Glancing at Salien, who had seemingly given his consent by producing the items in question, Tovrunn nodded. "We might as well, while we have the time," she said. "I am not particularly skilled at drawing forth secrets from worked iron, but perhaps together we can divine any traces of magic that may be found."
RP Session 3: "The Diemen Gambit"
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Jul 20, 2025 4:22 am
"Erik," Tovrunn gently re-corrects, using her own people's pronunciation. "He has many names, but among my people he's known as Erik."
Glancing at Salien, who had seemingly given his consent by producing the items in question, Tovrunn nodded. "We might as well, while we have the time," she said. "I am not particularly skilled at drawing forth secrets from worked iron, but perhaps together we can divine any traces of magic that may be found."
Glancing at Salien, who had seemingly given his consent by producing the items in question, Tovrunn nodded. "We might as well, while we have the time," she said. "I am not particularly skilled at drawing forth secrets from worked iron, but perhaps together we can divine any traces of magic that may be found."
Jul 20, 2025 4:23 am
While it was clear at a glance that the two hunks of metal were of a similar age, it took a few minutes of examination to determine that they were indeed two parts of a greater whole, and minutes more to guess at how the might have fitted together. Time and the elements had been unkind, but still the degradation must have been the work of more than a thousand years and though it proved to be bronze still any details the smith had wrought were gone.
Eventually though it became clear to Rjurik and Vos both that this was the headpiece and cross-guard of an Anuirean battle standard - its wooden pole and cloth banner centuries gone. To which house it might have belonged was impossible to say, but no other army to have marched this land would use such icons.
Eventually though it became clear to Rjurik and Vos both that this was the headpiece and cross-guard of an Anuirean battle standard - its wooden pole and cloth banner centuries gone. To which house it might have belonged was impossible to say, but no other army to have marched this land would use such icons.
Jul 20, 2025 4:24 am
Pavel and Tovrunn took turns looking at the relic and then compared notes. He shared his findings with her, confident he had unearthed what few secrets could be gleaned through a visual investigation. He then turned to the rest of the group to share their findings but a quick gesture from Tovrunn told him she had something to add to his apparently notso-100%-comprehensive investigative report.
A quick back and forth conversation ensued that ended with an expression on his face that landed somewhere between astonishment and admiration. "Bronze? Why, yes, I think you're right!"
Pavel turned to Lancaelad. "She's absolutely brilliant!" he said. "How lucky you must feel to soon belong to such a woman!" Back to Tovrunn, "If you were not already committed to becoming a Lady of the Knight, you could have had a fine life as a magician's assistant."
Pavel then took a few minutes to share their findings with the rest of the group.
As people begin to settle in to wait for a more appropriate time to go to the ferry, Pavel notices Corson casually leaning up against a wall and moves to stand beside him perhaps a half-dozen feet away. Pavel attempts to mimic Corson's casual stance.
"So, ah, Corson is it? You keep an eye on Salien for his own protection. Is this not so?" Pavel speaks softly, in a tone meant for Corson alone. He does not look at Corson as he speaks but does glance his way from time to time to see if he is able to match the man's casual stance.
"I saw no trace of magic on the relic or on Salien but in order to be certain, I would have to perform a small ritual of identification. I am uncomfortable using such magic without permission but if, somehow, he or the relic were, say, affected by some sort of curse, such magic would likely prevent him from giving me permission to take a closer look." Pavel frowns slightly, unable to match Corson's casual stance. He shifts his weight. He hooks his thumbs into his belt. Then he folds his arms in front of him. Awkward, awkward, awkward.
"Since the man's well-being appears to be under your purview, I think it best for you to decide the matter. If you see him behaving oddly in the days to come and wish for me to employ magic to rule out him being affected by a charm or curse, simply give the word and I will conduct the ritual. Is this a burden you can bear?"
Pavel waits to hear Corson's answer and then steps away to attend to his other guests. He paused briefly and turned around, addressing Corson directly. "You will have to teach me how you do that."
A quick back and forth conversation ensued that ended with an expression on his face that landed somewhere between astonishment and admiration. "Bronze? Why, yes, I think you're right!"
Pavel turned to Lancaelad. "She's absolutely brilliant!" he said. "How lucky you must feel to soon belong to such a woman!" Back to Tovrunn, "If you were not already committed to becoming a Lady of the Knight, you could have had a fine life as a magician's assistant."
Pavel then took a few minutes to share their findings with the rest of the group.
As people begin to settle in to wait for a more appropriate time to go to the ferry, Pavel notices Corson casually leaning up against a wall and moves to stand beside him perhaps a half-dozen feet away. Pavel attempts to mimic Corson's casual stance.
"So, ah, Corson is it? You keep an eye on Salien for his own protection. Is this not so?" Pavel speaks softly, in a tone meant for Corson alone. He does not look at Corson as he speaks but does glance his way from time to time to see if he is able to match the man's casual stance.
"I saw no trace of magic on the relic or on Salien but in order to be certain, I would have to perform a small ritual of identification. I am uncomfortable using such magic without permission but if, somehow, he or the relic were, say, affected by some sort of curse, such magic would likely prevent him from giving me permission to take a closer look." Pavel frowns slightly, unable to match Corson's casual stance. He shifts his weight. He hooks his thumbs into his belt. Then he folds his arms in front of him. Awkward, awkward, awkward.
"Since the man's well-being appears to be under your purview, I think it best for you to decide the matter. If you see him behaving oddly in the days to come and wish for me to employ magic to rule out him being affected by a charm or curse, simply give the word and I will conduct the ritual. Is this a burden you can bear?"
Pavel waits to hear Corson's answer and then steps away to attend to his other guests. He paused briefly and turned around, addressing Corson directly. "You will have to teach me how you do that."
Jul 20, 2025 4:26 am
Corson regarded the awkward young man carefully, then nodded. "He did act strangely, as if driven, but that passed quickly. After that, he seemed back to normal. I will continue to keep an eye on him, and if he acts beyond reason can do your ritual. Do you know if sufficiently powerful magicks could thwart your identification?"
Jul 20, 2025 4:27 am
Pavel considered the question.
"Yes. But that would not necessarily be a bad thing. Magic that would prevent identification would probably prevent another mage from using magic to locate him. Given the effort spent on finding your group, it is possible that enemies might resort to using magic to try to find him, especially if we slip past the range of their patrols."
"We should keep in mind the possibility of such magic being employed in the days to come."
Pavel thinks about it for a moment. "A wounded red hart being simultaneously killed and saved by a bird of prey such as an eagle or a hawk and men with no face. Do these things hold any meaning to you?"
"Yes. But that would not necessarily be a bad thing. Magic that would prevent identification would probably prevent another mage from using magic to locate him. Given the effort spent on finding your group, it is possible that enemies might resort to using magic to try to find him, especially if we slip past the range of their patrols."
"We should keep in mind the possibility of such magic being employed in the days to come."
Pavel thinks about it for a moment. "A wounded red hart being simultaneously killed and saved by a bird of prey such as an eagle or a hawk and men with no face. Do these things hold any meaning to you?"
Jul 20, 2025 4:28 am
Corson shook his head. "The hart was a symbol of my order, but it was green, not red. We came from a hunting lodge, where the nobles were hawking, if that means anything... Lancaelad seems to favor reds..."
Corson shrugged and shot Pavel an apologetic look. He hadn't had much experience with those with 'The Sight', but he remembered that some of the druids that they worked with were purported to have such gifts... This one could prove useful in getting Salien to safety.
Corson shrugged and shot Pavel an apologetic look. He hadn't had much experience with those with 'The Sight', but he remembered that some of the druids that they worked with were purported to have such gifts... This one could prove useful in getting Salien to safety.
Jul 20, 2025 4:29 am
Pavel weighed Corson's words against his vision and waved away Corson's look of apology. "A varsk does not hatch from its egg in full fur," he said, gifting Corson with a tiny silver of Vos wisdom.
"Come. It is time, I think."
Pavel glanced from Erron to Lancaelad and Tovrunn to Rhoderick to Goodman Salien, before he returned his gaze to Corson. "Shall we make our way to the river?" he asked of the group.
"Come. It is time, I think."
Pavel glanced from Erron to Lancaelad and Tovrunn to Rhoderick to Goodman Salien, before he returned his gaze to Corson. "Shall we make our way to the river?" he asked of the group.
Jul 20, 2025 4:29 am
With a sharp nod, Corson opened the door, leaving first in case of ambush and surveyed the street.
Jul 20, 2025 4:31 am
It had been a long day of travel, and their time in Pavel's Hovel had felt short, but the Roesonians found the streets outside dark. Farming folk rose before the sun, and evidently they slumbered with Avanalae too. Corson took a watchful lead - the way to the river was hardly a mystery - as they remounted their waiting horses and made the short ride by moonlight.
A single lantern burning by the water not quite seventy yards down the dusty street marked their destination, which emerged from the gloom as a broad, sturdy wharf and a large flat-bottomed barge with a winch larger than a man at its square prow. A long figure waited in the lantern light, hooded against the night and a couple of burly silhouettes busied themselves on the craft itself. They were the only souls who seemed to still be about, though to the south the lights of Proudglaive glittered against the horizon.
On the far bank many of the folk of Medoere would have just woken, but outside the nocturnal cities of the Moon God the folk of the towns and villages kept to the same hours as Anuireans did elsewhere, and had for generations and the far bank was quiet.
As they drew close the ferryman, hearing their horses, took down the lantern and waved it in greeting. "Hail travellers, come aboard, we're all eager for our blankets."
A single lantern burning by the water not quite seventy yards down the dusty street marked their destination, which emerged from the gloom as a broad, sturdy wharf and a large flat-bottomed barge with a winch larger than a man at its square prow. A long figure waited in the lantern light, hooded against the night and a couple of burly silhouettes busied themselves on the craft itself. They were the only souls who seemed to still be about, though to the south the lights of Proudglaive glittered against the horizon.
On the far bank many of the folk of Medoere would have just woken, but outside the nocturnal cities of the Moon God the folk of the towns and villages kept to the same hours as Anuireans did elsewhere, and had for generations and the far bank was quiet.
As they drew close the ferryman, hearing their horses, took down the lantern and waved it in greeting. "Hail travellers, come aboard, we're all eager for our blankets."
Jul 20, 2025 4:32 am
"Nesire’s Blessing on you and your craft ferrymaster." Rhoderick dismounted and carefully poured a drop of salt water from his flask to the deck. He looked around the ferry at the men moving around, his ancestry allowing him to see easily in the gloom. "Are we ready to shove off?"
Jul 20, 2025 4:33 am
The ferryman drew back his hood, revealing stone-grey mutton chops, a bare pate and deep creases at the corners of his eyes. "Aye, we've but to draw the rope taut and we'll be on the river" he replied, pointing out a pair of oxen grazing beside a large winch some way above. "The Spider's lazy tonight so she shouldn't give us much trouble."
Rhoderick looked out at the water, perhaps two hundred yards of sluggish river aping the black of the night sky. It would be the most exposed they'd been, alone in that empty dark expanse being slowly hauled across on a rope as thick as his arm that right now rested on the riverbed. But it was the river, and it was as close to the sea as he was likely to get in the near future. Were there some ambush it would be simple enough to cut the rope and take cover, and the river would take them away - no doubt Proudglaive would be barrier enough to find shore.
Rhoderick looked out at the water, perhaps two hundred yards of sluggish river aping the black of the night sky. It would be the most exposed they'd been, alone in that empty dark expanse being slowly hauled across on a rope as thick as his arm that right now rested on the riverbed. But it was the river, and it was as close to the sea as he was likely to get in the near future. Were there some ambush it would be simple enough to cut the rope and take cover, and the river would take them away - no doubt Proudglaive would be barrier enough to find shore.
Jul 20, 2025 4:34 am
Rhoderick clapped the man on the shoulder with a grin. "We should get going then, the sooner we cross the sooner we let you get to your bed."
Jul 20, 2025 4:53 am
Lancaelad watched the mage and priestess of Erik pore over the bronze icon with small interest, his gaze just as often wandering to the dried herbs, jars of pickled newts, tome-filled shelves and the inevitable stuffed Zhaïnge crocodile hanging from the ceiling. He started when Pavel enthused about Tovrunn's virtues, and gave a guilty smile. "Any man would be pleased to have her as his wife," he said evasively.
As Mhairie fussed over his armour, remarking that the mage's spell had one a decent job of removing the river muck but that it still needed a brisk steel brush and oil, Lancaelad instructed Paidrig to take the wagon north along the riverside road to Thoeren's Landing, in accordance with the deception they had planned. "Once there, wait until you receive word from me as to whether to take to the ferry and join us in Medoere, or return to Blacktower and make report to the Lord Castellan." Lan watched, amused, as Geremie tightened the harness Ogre's head. The warhorse snorted and shook his mighty frame, lifting the boy off the ground for a moment and raising a whoop of excitement from him. He reached over and ruffled the lad's hair.
"A big 'os like this needs 'is oats, m'lud, not just hay. And a good hard brushing of his shoulders and haunches where the weight of y' kit presses in."
"I know how to tend a warhorse, boy," Lan snapped, giving Geremie a flick around the ear. Geremie winced, and glanced at Mhairie. They both knew that their knight's armour and steed would be in poorly tended condition by the time they saw him again, requiring days of work to make right. As Lan mounted and joined the others, Geremie spat in his hand and ran his fingers through his hair. He'd just got it how he liked it, preruffle.
Lancaelad dismounted as they drew near the barge, squinting to make it out in the darkness. The ricketty dock creaked under the weight of several armoured men and horses, and Ogre snorted at the black, lapping water. A strong hand, Tovrunn had told him. Lan wound the reins around his fist to shorten the leash on the warhorse, and gave his mane a firm pat. "Surely you're not afraid of water, you great brute?" he said fondly. "You were keen enough to drop me in it."
"Gods grant both the river and its vile namesake stay that way," Lan answered the bargemen. "Though I would dearly wish to show those goblin fiends the meaning of battle. Bring our mounts aboard and let us be off."
As Mhairie fussed over his armour, remarking that the mage's spell had one a decent job of removing the river muck but that it still needed a brisk steel brush and oil, Lancaelad instructed Paidrig to take the wagon north along the riverside road to Thoeren's Landing, in accordance with the deception they had planned. "Once there, wait until you receive word from me as to whether to take to the ferry and join us in Medoere, or return to Blacktower and make report to the Lord Castellan." Lan watched, amused, as Geremie tightened the harness Ogre's head. The warhorse snorted and shook his mighty frame, lifting the boy off the ground for a moment and raising a whoop of excitement from him. He reached over and ruffled the lad's hair.
"A big 'os like this needs 'is oats, m'lud, not just hay. And a good hard brushing of his shoulders and haunches where the weight of y' kit presses in."
"I know how to tend a warhorse, boy," Lan snapped, giving Geremie a flick around the ear. Geremie winced, and glanced at Mhairie. They both knew that their knight's armour and steed would be in poorly tended condition by the time they saw him again, requiring days of work to make right. As Lan mounted and joined the others, Geremie spat in his hand and ran his fingers through his hair. He'd just got it how he liked it, preruffle.
Lancaelad dismounted as they drew near the barge, squinting to make it out in the darkness. The ricketty dock creaked under the weight of several armoured men and horses, and Ogre snorted at the black, lapping water. A strong hand, Tovrunn had told him. Lan wound the reins around his fist to shorten the leash on the warhorse, and gave his mane a firm pat. "Surely you're not afraid of water, you great brute?" he said fondly. "You were keen enough to drop me in it."
"Gods grant both the river and its vile namesake stay that way," Lan answered the bargemen. "Though I would dearly wish to show those goblin fiends the meaning of battle. Bring our mounts aboard and let us be off."
Jul 20, 2025 4:55 am
Not wishing to be any more conspicuous than their ate night arrival and departure might already make them, the party boarded swiftly but without the appearance of haste. As the last of the horses were settled the ferryman gave a signal to one of his labourers, who in turn stirred the oxen to life and the great winch began to turn with a terrible groan. Slowly a thick rope, slick with muck and weed, rose out of the water like a mighty constrictor and once a pair of fastenings emerged Sorrenson caught them with a hook and fed the rope through a series of cleats along the side of the ferry, then with sturdy poles he pushed out away from the wharf.
After a few minutes more the rope drew taut above the river, the oxman pulled some lever on the winch, and slowly the ferry began to move out onto the benighted water.
The Spider was indeed flowing slowly tonight, and though it slapped indignantly against the heavy craft they barely felt it. Instead, after the first few lurching dashes forward the ferry picked up its own momentum and before long only a gentle rocking reminded them that they were moving at all. And for a long while it seemed like they hung in the middle of the river, unmoving, unable to tell water from sky, crossing some impossible void on a length of rope that vanished back into Roesone, and forward into the unknown.
As the watery gulf between themselves and their pursuers grew each of the Roesonians (save for the newcomer Pavel) had a moment to consider the path that had led them here. The seemingly mundane tasks that had drawn them into a maelstrom that none of them truly understood. Already they felt sharpened by the constant peril of the past few days. lready two companions fates were unknown. And ahead lay that journey again and more, but through lands far more volatile and unfriendly than their home.
Casting a watchful eye over the eastern bank, Rhoderick thought he saw a half dozen figures on the wharf, but he couldn't be sure who they were, and without a boat of their own even an enemy could do little to them now.
Though the crossing seemed interminable it was only perhaps a quarter of an hour before the ferry drew up to another well-kept wharf the mirror of the opposite with its own winch. The ferryman took his hook, loosed the rope from the sides of the ferry and began to drag the craft into the wharf before leaping ashore with a spryness that spat in the face of his age, and began lashing ferry to wharf. Minutes later horses and riders took their first steps on the soil of Medoere.
The old man pointed up a gentle slope towards a cluster of distant lights. "Lews is about two miles that way - just farmers and such but there's an inn. Mill Landing lies about eight miles south. Travellers would be less remarkable there." He indicated a few yards up river. "I've a cottage here. I won't be going back tonight, so it will be cramped, but you're welcome." With that he returned to lashing the ferry securely to the wharf.
After a few minutes more the rope drew taut above the river, the oxman pulled some lever on the winch, and slowly the ferry began to move out onto the benighted water.
The Spider was indeed flowing slowly tonight, and though it slapped indignantly against the heavy craft they barely felt it. Instead, after the first few lurching dashes forward the ferry picked up its own momentum and before long only a gentle rocking reminded them that they were moving at all. And for a long while it seemed like they hung in the middle of the river, unmoving, unable to tell water from sky, crossing some impossible void on a length of rope that vanished back into Roesone, and forward into the unknown.
As the watery gulf between themselves and their pursuers grew each of the Roesonians (save for the newcomer Pavel) had a moment to consider the path that had led them here. The seemingly mundane tasks that had drawn them into a maelstrom that none of them truly understood. Already they felt sharpened by the constant peril of the past few days. lready two companions fates were unknown. And ahead lay that journey again and more, but through lands far more volatile and unfriendly than their home.
Casting a watchful eye over the eastern bank, Rhoderick thought he saw a half dozen figures on the wharf, but he couldn't be sure who they were, and without a boat of their own even an enemy could do little to them now.
Though the crossing seemed interminable it was only perhaps a quarter of an hour before the ferry drew up to another well-kept wharf the mirror of the opposite with its own winch. The ferryman took his hook, loosed the rope from the sides of the ferry and began to drag the craft into the wharf before leaping ashore with a spryness that spat in the face of his age, and began lashing ferry to wharf. Minutes later horses and riders took their first steps on the soil of Medoere.
The old man pointed up a gentle slope towards a cluster of distant lights. "Lews is about two miles that way - just farmers and such but there's an inn. Mill Landing lies about eight miles south. Travellers would be less remarkable there." He indicated a few yards up river. "I've a cottage here. I won't be going back tonight, so it will be cramped, but you're welcome." With that he returned to lashing the ferry securely to the wharf.
Jul 20, 2025 4:57 am
Lancaelad was not a man given much to introspection, but the slow crossing of the Spider gave him the chance for little else. He rested his hands on the railing of the barge, watching the shore of the Theocracy of Medoere grow closer, and chewed on the gristle of the past few days.
Things had not gone well. They could have gone much worse, granted; while the band that made the crossing was not the same that had begun the journey, none had fallen fatally. His thoughts turned briefly to dwell with concern on Aeric, hoping that the dark-eyed sidhe had been able to find him aid. Lancaelad had not acquitted himself with the standards he demanded. He reached up and touched his scalp, where one of the ruffians at the Abbadiel docks had cracked his skull, and winced. He had nearly fallen himself there. In Bardenhold he had walked into the waiting arms of this Prince of Rabbit's infiltrators without his arms or armour – rank carelessness! He had tumbled from Ogre's saddle and ended up wallowing in the mud...
Was he not up to the task before them? A look of uncertainty, of doubt, of fear crossed his features as he gazed into the dark waters. Then his hands clenched around the railing. No. He had not failed – he had been failed. Squire Corson had not done his duty to stay alert for threats to his companion Salien at the port. The guards of Bardenhold had allowed themselves to be suborned. Mhairie had not ensured his armour was to hand and Geremie had not been able to tame the warhorse. Tovrunn had kept her beast-lore to herself until he had been made a fool of. It was the lot of great men such as himself to be let down by the lacks of their lessers. He tore his eyes away from the river and cast a hard glance back at the Rjurik woman and the would-be knight of copses and streams. He would simply have to demonstrate his mettle twice as much to make up for everyone else's failings...
Medoere felt different, somehow. It was as if the night air here was softer, the cool less sharp, the darkness lessened by some diffuse radiance. Silver fireflies of a sort he had never seen in Roesone flitted amongst the reeds of the riverbank, and the moon hung strikingly bright and clear despite the clouds. The land on this side of the Spider was quite marshy, and a chorus of frogs whispered about the new arrivals.
Lancaelad lead his steed off the docks, glancing around at the pastoral peace an stifled a yawn with his fist. "Our thanks for your service, my good man," he said airily. "But we will not impose on your vulgar hospitality." He swept his arm to gesture for the others to step away from the barge, far enough that they could confer privately. "We should make haste away from the river, at least to the crest of the hill, then make camp under the stars. If Ruornil truly favours this land, then the night should be as safe here as anywhere."
Things had not gone well. They could have gone much worse, granted; while the band that made the crossing was not the same that had begun the journey, none had fallen fatally. His thoughts turned briefly to dwell with concern on Aeric, hoping that the dark-eyed sidhe had been able to find him aid. Lancaelad had not acquitted himself with the standards he demanded. He reached up and touched his scalp, where one of the ruffians at the Abbadiel docks had cracked his skull, and winced. He had nearly fallen himself there. In Bardenhold he had walked into the waiting arms of this Prince of Rabbit's infiltrators without his arms or armour – rank carelessness! He had tumbled from Ogre's saddle and ended up wallowing in the mud...
Was he not up to the task before them? A look of uncertainty, of doubt, of fear crossed his features as he gazed into the dark waters. Then his hands clenched around the railing. No. He had not failed – he had been failed. Squire Corson had not done his duty to stay alert for threats to his companion Salien at the port. The guards of Bardenhold had allowed themselves to be suborned. Mhairie had not ensured his armour was to hand and Geremie had not been able to tame the warhorse. Tovrunn had kept her beast-lore to herself until he had been made a fool of. It was the lot of great men such as himself to be let down by the lacks of their lessers. He tore his eyes away from the river and cast a hard glance back at the Rjurik woman and the would-be knight of copses and streams. He would simply have to demonstrate his mettle twice as much to make up for everyone else's failings...
Medoere felt different, somehow. It was as if the night air here was softer, the cool less sharp, the darkness lessened by some diffuse radiance. Silver fireflies of a sort he had never seen in Roesone flitted amongst the reeds of the riverbank, and the moon hung strikingly bright and clear despite the clouds. The land on this side of the Spider was quite marshy, and a chorus of frogs whispered about the new arrivals.
Lancaelad lead his steed off the docks, glancing around at the pastoral peace an stifled a yawn with his fist. "Our thanks for your service, my good man," he said airily. "But we will not impose on your vulgar hospitality." He swept his arm to gesture for the others to step away from the barge, far enough that they could confer privately. "We should make haste away from the river, at least to the crest of the hill, then make camp under the stars. If Ruornil truly favours this land, then the night should be as safe here as anywhere."
Jul 20, 2025 4:58 am
Rhoderick eyed the knight in slight askance at his haughty tone but stifling another jaw cracking yawn behind a gauntleted fist offered "let us away then if that is your suggestion, it has been a long day and tomorrow promises to be no shorter."
Jul 20, 2025 5:00 am
Though the crossing had gone well, Tovrunn had kept her vigilance about her. They might have slipped their pursuers for now, but they wouldn't abandon the chase. They had to move quickly through Medoere now, and trust in their fortune and each other. As difficult as that was for some among their band.
"I will find us a suitable place to pitch our tents," she volunteered, nodding in agreement. "One moment."
Stepping back slightly, the druid traced sigils in the air leaving behind streaks of softly glowing light that smelled of moss and earthscent, calling forth her connection with the very land itself as she does so. Or, more specifically, the sky, for once she completes her casting an owl swoops in from the edges of the night to land gracefully upon her outstretched arm. "Ira here will guide us, for a time at least. Let us be off."
Commanding the owl to find good flat hunting ground with wide open space beyond the ridge, Tovrunn let the conjured bird take flight and followed. The search would have to be done quickly, and suitable ground was a necessity. While she herself was comfortable enough beneath the stars, she doubted that all her companions were. The absence of Lan's entourage would be felt this night, she thought.
"I will find us a suitable place to pitch our tents," she volunteered, nodding in agreement. "One moment."
Stepping back slightly, the druid traced sigils in the air leaving behind streaks of softly glowing light that smelled of moss and earthscent, calling forth her connection with the very land itself as she does so. Or, more specifically, the sky, for once she completes her casting an owl swoops in from the edges of the night to land gracefully upon her outstretched arm. "Ira here will guide us, for a time at least. Let us be off."
Commanding the owl to find good flat hunting ground with wide open space beyond the ridge, Tovrunn let the conjured bird take flight and followed. The search would have to be done quickly, and suitable ground was a necessity. While she herself was comfortable enough beneath the stars, she doubted that all her companions were. The absence of Lan's entourage would be felt this night, she thought.
Jul 20, 2025 5:01 am
Having sent the wagon north the exhausted travellers were without tents or cooking utensils or many of the luxuries that those of a higher station might enjoy on the road. Even those amongst them more accustomed to sleeping rough were some distance from their last need to. Still, Medoere's fresh-tilled fields and winding dirt trails were hardly the brutal highlands of Rjurik, and a pillow of loam never hurt anyone.
It was true that Medoere felt different - night was somehow more idyllic and less menacing than elsewhere, and the moonlight seemed to linger in the shadows. Ira's birds-eye-view quickly presented a shallow gully near an old stone well that offered a pretty spot well hidden from the river with water and shelter aplenty, and a drooping willow offered a canopy of Erik's own design, but from the edge of the descent Tovrunn was quick to forestall the party - the telltale signs of nesting vipers were all over the place. Doubtless if they'd rested here then one of the horses, or even one of their number would certainly have felt the kiss of Azrai's faithful. No wonder the well seemed abandoned!
Eventually the owl circled down amongst a flock of sheep that seemed a better spot - the terrain was flat and the grass trodden down but the animals seemed accustomed to people, and even the horses looked as if they belonged amongst the livestock. A small lean-to in a verdant knoll suggested some shepherd's shelter, and a rough-spun blanket that smelled of dog only reinforced that impression. It was here that the Roesonians finally bedded down for the night, and beneath Ruornil's celestial majesty they slept with a peace that even the Bjornding lodge hadn't granted without even the need for sentries thanks to the softly bleating sheep.
In the deepest recesses of night a small party of riders, travelling by starlight, galloped by along the riverbank. The distant hammering of hooves was enough to stir the ever-vigilant Corson who kicked dirt onto the embers of their small fire from his sleeping roll, but glimpsed between the legs of sheep they never came near the camp, and their purpose remained uncertain.
When the Silver Prince finally surrendered his chosen lands to the light of morning all awoke better off for an untroubled night.
It was true that Medoere felt different - night was somehow more idyllic and less menacing than elsewhere, and the moonlight seemed to linger in the shadows. Ira's birds-eye-view quickly presented a shallow gully near an old stone well that offered a pretty spot well hidden from the river with water and shelter aplenty, and a drooping willow offered a canopy of Erik's own design, but from the edge of the descent Tovrunn was quick to forestall the party - the telltale signs of nesting vipers were all over the place. Doubtless if they'd rested here then one of the horses, or even one of their number would certainly have felt the kiss of Azrai's faithful. No wonder the well seemed abandoned!
Eventually the owl circled down amongst a flock of sheep that seemed a better spot - the terrain was flat and the grass trodden down but the animals seemed accustomed to people, and even the horses looked as if they belonged amongst the livestock. A small lean-to in a verdant knoll suggested some shepherd's shelter, and a rough-spun blanket that smelled of dog only reinforced that impression. It was here that the Roesonians finally bedded down for the night, and beneath Ruornil's celestial majesty they slept with a peace that even the Bjornding lodge hadn't granted without even the need for sentries thanks to the softly bleating sheep.
In the deepest recesses of night a small party of riders, travelling by starlight, galloped by along the riverbank. The distant hammering of hooves was enough to stir the ever-vigilant Corson who kicked dirt onto the embers of their small fire from his sleeping roll, but glimpsed between the legs of sheep they never came near the camp, and their purpose remained uncertain.
When the Silver Prince finally surrendered his chosen lands to the light of morning all awoke better off for an untroubled night.
Jul 20, 2025 5:04 am
"What is the timeframe we're working with in terms of getting Goodman Salien to his destination?" Pavel asks of the group.
"What is the timeframe we're working with in terms of getting Goodman Salien to his destination?" a second Pavel asked.
"Whatisthetimeframe.." another Pavel voiced the same question but it spoke too quickly to be human, the pitch of its voice absurdly high.
The three Pavels had spoken in unison. One Pavel -- clearly the real one -- stood motionless on the ground while the other two Pavels orbited around him like leaves blowing in the wind. Their flight lasted but a few moments before they winked out of existence, leaving a single, stoic Pavel standing just outside the perimeter of the campsite. He returned to his bedroll and sat down, then retrieved his spellbook that was perched atop his backpack within arm's reach, and scratched some notations onto one of the pages. He then firmly closed the tome and put it back in its place in his pack.
Wizards were known for their studious ways. They were in a constant state of striving to further their understanding of magic. Pavel was currently in the process of developing a new spell. He had no doubt he would eventually succeed and, when he did, the new spell would create mirror images of himself that would confound foes in battle. Some might view this attempt as a failure but Pavel considered it a success. After all, he had discovered yet another way not to cast the spell, had he not?
The sound of bleating caused the young mage to look up. "Thank you for the encouragement," he said to the sheep before shooing it away from himself and his belongings.
Images of a dying red hart flashed in his mind's eye, causing Pavel to blink. a sense of urgency and purpose arose within him.
His stomach growled.
Surely there was time to nibble on some granola while the group arose and made plans for the day.
"So, what is the timeframe.." he asked, once everyone was more fully awake.
"What is the timeframe we're working with in terms of getting Goodman Salien to his destination?" a second Pavel asked.
"Whatisthetimeframe.." another Pavel voiced the same question but it spoke too quickly to be human, the pitch of its voice absurdly high.
The three Pavels had spoken in unison. One Pavel -- clearly the real one -- stood motionless on the ground while the other two Pavels orbited around him like leaves blowing in the wind. Their flight lasted but a few moments before they winked out of existence, leaving a single, stoic Pavel standing just outside the perimeter of the campsite. He returned to his bedroll and sat down, then retrieved his spellbook that was perched atop his backpack within arm's reach, and scratched some notations onto one of the pages. He then firmly closed the tome and put it back in its place in his pack.
Wizards were known for their studious ways. They were in a constant state of striving to further their understanding of magic. Pavel was currently in the process of developing a new spell. He had no doubt he would eventually succeed and, when he did, the new spell would create mirror images of himself that would confound foes in battle. Some might view this attempt as a failure but Pavel considered it a success. After all, he had discovered yet another way not to cast the spell, had he not?
The sound of bleating caused the young mage to look up. "Thank you for the encouragement," he said to the sheep before shooing it away from himself and his belongings.
Images of a dying red hart flashed in his mind's eye, causing Pavel to blink. a sense of urgency and purpose arose within him.
His stomach growled.
Surely there was time to nibble on some granola while the group arose and made plans for the day.
"So, what is the timeframe.." he asked, once everyone was more fully awake.
Jul 20, 2025 5:05 am
Rhoderick grinned around a mouthful of dried fish. "I’m but a humble preacher, you need to speak to the courtiers." In contest to his words of peace he was oiling the flaring head of his mace.
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