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Only the dead have seen the end of the war



As the dawn sun touched the ramparts of the castle, two seperate groups of young men took to the training grounds. One group, clad in armour both metalic and leather took to far side of the yard while the other group, garbed in fine red robes with leather boots and bracers, took the side nearest the gate they all had emerged from. Shortly afterwards, once both groups started their morning stretches, Viktor emerged from the passage that lead not to the baracks as the men had, but from the castle proper. He held his horned helm under his arm as he walked past the group of soldiers dressed in mail and plate, ignoring them completely as he approached his own forces. The ones dressed in gear meant for them to be able to move freely and quietly. The men stopped their stretches only momentarily so they could salute their General before returning to work once given permission.

Viktor remained in the yard for hours, mostly watching as his mage soldiers practised their magicks against one another. There were often screams of pain and horror when something would go wrong with a spell. The injured were either healed by one of the few at least vaguely proficient in the skill before returning to practice with a limp; or they were taken away to a properly trained healer if the injury called for it. Often, Viktor would interrupt a duel to instruct the participants or he would stop all the work entirely to give a demonstration and teach a thing or two to those who needed it. It wasn't often he was in the yard with his men, but the days he found the time to be he made sure they learned something new and useful in the art of magic and war.

Eventually, in the middle of a demonstrative duel with a talented up and comer, a young squire dashed through the yard from the castle proper and approached Viktor with a salute. "Royal summons ser, the King requests your presence immediately" Viktor waved the kid away with a nod.Time for a break. Go feed yourselves." With that, the men started heading back into the barracks to grab some grub while he headed back into the castle proper. It wasn't a long walk to the throne room, and he was let in immediately.

As the doors creaked and groaned while being opened, Viktor took the time to remove his helmet and tuck it under his arm, letting his short, damp, dark blue hair free of it's confines. He approached to Throne and took a knee a few paces away from the steps that lead to his seated king. "General. So kind of you to heed my summons.""Of course Your Grace." He spoke before standing at the small motion given by Arte. He was quick to see the mood of the king, the pleasant voice may fool many but it wouldn't fool him."How may I be of service?"

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Vel desparetly wanted to snap back about how he clearly did not know archery or arrows well, and so it would be stupid for him to remove the arrow, but managed to bite his tongue. Areyl clearly was under some stress, and it didn't do to cross the captain during an engagement. The hardest thing for Vel was learning that.

Before, on his father's ship, he had risen quickly to the rank of first mate and so became used to having loose lips with his superior. Here though he was just a low seadog. It was why he had been so quite his first weeks here, training himself to hold his tongue. Times like this showed he still needed practice.

The call of the scout shook him back to earth. While everyone ran to get into position, he seemed to pause for a moment, as if hearing something. He shook his head slightly before running back to what had been his tent to retrieve something. His tent was already most dismantled, but luckily his rucksack was still in place. He quickly dumped everything in it to find what he was looking for. He quickly picked it up, hiding it behind his back, and ran over to the small fire they had built to boil the bandages. He grabbed one of the smaller burning sticks and moved into position, climbing onto a fallen log.

He must have looked like ad idiot, standing there holding what looked like a metal ball with a bit of white sticking out of it in one hand, and burning stick in the other. After he had learned to trust her, he had told Areyl about this particular toy. Well, he had sort of told her...

What he had mentioned was that he only had one left on him, but applying fire to the wick would cause the ball to violently rip apart outward after seven seconds or so. Explaining an explosion had been hard, but he'd done his best. It would not be a large explosion, more dazing than wounding, but would do well against an armored foe or several. Still, he would have to gauge things, not ignite and toss if the other men were moving to swarm. If Areyl gave a retreat order, that would be his perfect time to use this. If she did though.

The knight approached, and after some banter between him and Areyl, with things progressively going from bad to worse. To make matters even more complicated, Areyl seemed to be losing her cool, and the other thieves seemed to be closing in, rending Vel's trick useless. With an internal sigh, the branch was dropped and snuffed, and the ball pocketed for another time. He did not have the archery skill yet to grab a bow and help, so he rested his hand on his sword and waited for things to play ou-

Bloody hell, the knight was a woman? It didn't seem like Vel was the only one thinking along those lines, as the words 'a woman?' were repeated by many of the group. This seemed to please the she-knight as she smirked and hooked her fingers into her belt.

“Well, that was unexpected.” one of the other men mentioned casually, causing several of the others to laugh; Vel's eyes just narrowed. Whether or not this knight was a woman was irrelevant. Areyl had proven time and again that a woman was every bit as capable as a man at innumerable things, including killing. Just because this knight was a female didn't mean everyone should drop their guard. So, while the rest of the men relaxed and laughed, Vel stayed on his perch and kept his hand on his sword.

“Pray tell, why is it you search for Areyl?” Vel spoke up, causing several of the laughing men to go quiet. It was not much, but the words reminded them that this knight might still be dangerous. Their foe was the local lord, a man who employed knights. Vel had no problem using Areyl's name as the knight had already mentioned it... and while she seemed trustworthy, Vel found himself in the same place the other thieves had been when he first arrived. This person was new and therefore unknown and therefore not to be trusted right away.

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                                                                    The lady knight cocked an eyebrow at the speaker. It was not Aryel, moreover it seemed that the young man behind her was speaking for her. The bandit queen drew herself up and gave Vel a sharp look. As he had stolen the words right out of her mouth. Although they probably would have been phrased a bit sharper. Despite the laughter and the taunts the foreign woman held her head high and proud.

                                                                    "That is for the queen's ears and eyes only." The she-knight said boisterously. "If she wishes to take my counseling. I caution her, it is of grave importance." Areyl looked the woman up and down as if she had grown a foot out of her forehead.
                                                                    Areyl had the upper hand. If she wanted to, she could kill this false knight in an instant. Even if she didn't have the opportunity to do it herself her men were close enough now to overpower her and bludgeon her to death.

                                                                    The bandit scratched her throat for a moment, regarding her with almost a lazy calm. Despite her laid back appearance her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. "My tent, alone as you wish. You will disarm yourself and be subjected to a search by my men. Your armor removed and placed with garments of my own choosing. Only then will I permit you to enter my tent. Two armed guards will hold the door. If this is a trick, a trap. You will die."

                                                                    The woman didn't object to this, she merely rolled her shoulders in a lack luster shrug. Not even to the search, which would be a rather insulting duty at least to the knight. Areyl was somewhat impressed. "Vel." She said tilting her head in his direction. "You will oversee the search. Mind." He was the most honorable amongst the thieves, and that wasn't saying much. At the very least the men wouldn't take advantage of the other woman or assault her. Remembering from experiences how unpleasant that could be the bandit queen's skin began to crawl.
                                                                    "One last thing before my, *ahem* men escort you to our camp."
                                                                    "Of course." The woman's voice was fluid and radiated a certain still calm.

                                                                    "What is your name?"
                                                                    The woman hesitated for a brief moment before replying carefully.

                                                                    "Quinn...My name is Quinn..."

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{The Thief with a Code}



Where: Clearing/Healers Cottage
With: Cai, Sir, Whiny, and Brat
Mood: Tired








Dominic was just about to tie up Scarlet when Marcus told him it would be safer to move closer. What he actually said was much more rude, but that was the basic principle. He hoped they didn't think he would take kindly to being ordered around so much. This was his forest. Well.. he didn't own it, but still. He dragged behind the others, leading Scarlet along, or he would have been if Scarlet hadn't been doing the leading... which she was. What in the name of insert deity here, was wrong with her? Following miss priss around like some kind of lost wolf pup. Thinking of Deities.. when was the last time he prayed? Had he ever? Who were the Deities? What was a Deity.. really? Were they powerful magic beings? Were they invisible stories passed through time? Invisible stories? How can a story be invisible? Well.. if passed by way of speech.. sound wasn't really visible.. was it? He had never seen it. Of course.. there were a lot of things he hadn't seen. He'd never seen... His thought process was sliced down the middle as John told him he could leave if he really wanted to. What he actually said was much more hateful, but that was the basic principle. Interesting... Dejavu... was that a word? Did that exist? Regardless... John had cut his thought! Rude.. ungrateful... He didn't know you were thinking. Well.. what if he did? Would it have made a difference? He saw Cai safely to the healer. He was done. Dominic would let them figure out how to travel with four people and one horse on their own. Look at him... smug little... SQUIRE! Loving up on the princess like he was some kind of knight in shining armor. He 'was' a knight in shining armor. No, he was a spoiled pup, wagging is newly found protrusion at the ebony fair. Leanna, herself, wasn't much of a catch anyway. Pretty black hair, but beneath it, a brain of pudding and the kindness of a hungry bear. Hell, they were perfect for each other. One whiny b***h and a spoiled brat equal a bratty, spoiled b***h.. who cries.. a lot... running out of ideas? Hell no! You done? ... Yeah... Good, it is time to go check in on Cai. Yeah-whoa, whoa, whoa. Nice try. It is time to leave. Cai is fine, or... he will be.

Dominic flipped onto Scarlet, who for once, was ready to leave. That was more like it. Okay.. where was I? At the cottage. No.. thinking... ghosts? No.. too creepy. Creepy.. magic.. all powerful.. Deities. Yes. Uh.. Invisible stories. That's where you got ghosts from. Understandable. What came after? Hm.. invisible.. things he had never seen before. Yes. Why do you keep switching between 'I' and 'he' and 'you'? It's confusing. We are getting off topic... That's the point isn't it? Well yes but.. Okay, okay. Where was he? If you really must know, just look up a bit. Dominic stared at the sky. No.. up.. like.. never mind. Continue from here: 'Things he had never seen before. Dominic had never seen a meteor shower. He had heard they were fantastic, but had always been aslee..aslee..Dominic fell asleep. Right there on Scarlet while heading into the forest again. He was out.

The thief's eyes fluttered open. How long had he been out? "Scarlet.. where did you take me?" Of course, his horse couldn't answer, so Dom had to figure it out for himself. There weren't any trees. Well.. there were trees.. just not really close. A blanket of grass covered the ground. A cottage sat right next to.. wait..."Did you really bring me back here?!" he spoke aloud to Scarlet. She neighed and nodded. "Oh, stop acting like you could understand what I asked." She shook her head side to side. "Don't give me that. You know.. if you want miss princess.. you can have her. I'll just leave you here." Scarlet stamped her hoof. "Do not think for a moment that I will not do so." he threatened. Scarlet shook her head side to side again. Dominic sighed as he brushed over her mane. "You are right.. I won't do it. Smartass." A loud whinny escaped her jowls. "I didn't call you a donkey. There is a difference you know." Dominic slid off of Scarlet, tying her to a post. If we are staying.. I might as well go inside." With a walk of defeat, he stepped his way into the cottage. Everyone was sitting down.. or laying down depending on their condition. "Happy to see me? I hope no one gets up to fast to hug me. I have two of the worst pains in my neck right now." What he hadn't vocalized, was that those two pains were Leanna and John.


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                                                                          Arte made it a point to tap the glass three more times, each with increasing intensity as his lips pursed nearly white before he released hi,. Viktor must understand, the king's frustrations did not rest with the newly minted general. But with the events that had unraveled only a few days before. He had been pondering what to do ever since the coupe and the few loyalists that remained (including the lovely princess) escaped from his grasp before he could give so much as an sincere 'apology'. That damned daft old dog and his silly little squire. Arte refused to acknowledge that rag tag knights existence one iota. One bug that had not been squished, a box that had remained unchecked and now he risks the potential spread and growth of another rebellion, another uprising. His seat on the throne at the moment was as fragile as a butterfly's wing.

                                                                          Arte held up a hand. "A moment, Dear Viktor. My second general has just arrived." Loud footsteps echoed outside the hall, and the vibrations seemed to travel through the floor and reach the other general and the king himself. Whereas Viktor had politely entered via one large door both were flung open with relative ease as a huge beast of a man lumbered down between the columns. His heavy mail ringing like bells and a fine sheen of sweat coating his face.

                                                                          A nasty predatory smile was visible through a well trimmed beard. "My lord." The voice wasn't quite dripping with sarcasm. Clearly it was polite enough for Arte to overlook. "Viktor, this is Ser Bartram. Captain of my Honor Guard and general of my armed forces." A great catch Arte's armed forces were truly. Marauders, thieves, cutthroats and killers. A rag tag band at first, it only made sense to give Bartram this position of leadership. He wasn't someone to toy with, or to really trust at all. His only loyalty remained to Arte, as the false king had claimed him from something (no one knows for sure) but in the end all that was known was that the murderer owed him a great debt. A debt that extended all the way up to quite possibly his death

                                                                          Arte acknowledged the general's presence with a simple nod before clearing his throat. "Gentlemen. I have a matter of dire importance for the both of you to attend to. The escape of the Princess and her honor guard has troubled me greatly." His glance over to Bartram was somewhat shrewd. It was he who allowed them to slip through his fingers. But the guards who had allowed them to pass at the gate without incident were well past dealt with and well past dead.

                                                                          "I have organized a neat solution for all of us to quell the rebellion rising against my rightful claim to throne." (an absolute and totally blunt lie)

                                                                          "Our spies have indicated that they last saw the princess not westward where we have been concentrating the majority of our searches, not south where our mounted patrols have been scouring the plains, and certainly not west where her escort would be slain or ransomed by the bandits plaguing Morwall. But northward, through the pines in the area of Ironwood." Arte paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Yes, we should have seen this before. But that old fool Marcus outfoxed us for the moment. Foolish on my part but the last mistake I will make. You two will take a force and ride out immediately for Ironwood. Find the princess and her escort, kill them but do not damage her. Upon closer consideration I find she is an excellent way to quell this storm against us. She is of marrying age is she not." He looked to both for what he already knew was the answer.

                                                                          Bartram managed to cut in front of Viktor and rumble out his response first. "She is Sir." The malicious spark that reflected in his eyes shone bright. If Viktor looked a bit closer at his mailed fists he would notice that the 'stain' was bits of dried blood from his mornings work. The knight looked down right pleased at the King's suggestion. It was not all that difficult to guess why.
                                                                          "Ah yes, wonderful. Once she returns we will wed within a fortnight. Peasants are terribly dull things and they don't know the difference between their women and their livestock. It shouldn't be that terribly hard to convince them."

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Leanna made a weak, fitful motion akin to that of a small child wanting to be set down, and John obeyed, if a bit hesitantly. He kept his hand under one arm to hold her steady, lest she lose her balance; couldn't very well have her fall and crack her head open on the floor now could they? He wouldn't allow for such a thing to happen. The princess attempted what might have been a curtsy but the physician waved it away, droplets of blood flinging from her hand, "None of that, none of that m'lady you are fatigued. I won't have you over exerting yourself." Marcus glanced up to look at her, his expression giving away nothing. He only spared her a moment before turning his attention back to Guinevere and Cai. Most of his leathers had been cut away, revealing his chest, which was thick with sweat and black blood. The injury was gruesome, the torn tissue blackened from the hounds poison and dark veins spider-webbed outwards from the lacerated flesh, showing the paths the poison had traveled to get through the rest of his body. They were lucky they'd gotten here when they had... Too much longer and Cai would have had no chance at all. The princess seemed to decide that she didn't want to see the sight of the sell-sword bleeding to death and turned her head to the side so fast that she nearly fell over; John was quick to support her so that she wouldn't collapse.

"Give Cai your bed please, Lady Guinevere," managed Leanna. It was an odd request, coming from royalty, but no one had a chance to reply because she said, "John..." and craned her neck in a crude gesture towards the washbin and he nodded, helping her walk towards it. Guinevere said, "It's very noble of you to want to put him on the bed, mi'lady, but he is going to need surgery to repair this wound. Marcus, if you could please take that fabric there and string it up along these hooks; I need a bit of privacy for surgery." The knight picked up the fabric in question and unfolded it, beginning to string it up on a series of hooks that divided the small cottage in half. As he did this, the door to the cottage opened and the thief entered. "Happy to see me? I hope no one gets up to fast to hug me. I have two of the worst pains in my neck right now." Marcus narrowed his eyes but said nothing, only continuing to hang the curtain that would hide Cai from view while the physician stitched the lacerated skin together again and relieved his body of the poison that plagued it. John only favored the thief with a glare but otherwise ignored him while attempting to keep Leanna from spilling face first into the basin. "You, Dominic, if you're going to be here, you're going to need to sit down and be quiet while I try to bring this young man back from the brink of death," snapped Guinevere as she picked up a tray full of what appeared to be many sharp implements, a type of flesh-colored thread, and several curved needles. "Marcus, the princess will be in good hands with your student. I'll need your help with this; I suspect that he may thrash a bit and I'm not strong enough to hold him down if he does."

Marcus nodded and moved over to the basin to wash his hands, just in case Gwen would need him to help with the more technical matters - not that he knew anything about healing or surgeries - and John helped Leanna onto the physicians bed. "Get some sleep," he said, helping her down. "We'll wake you when the Lady is done performing surgery so that Cai can be moved over here." Marcus looked over at the pair, taking in their closeness for a moment before saying, "You should get some sleep as well, John. We will be moving on as soon as Cai is stable and will likely not stop for some time, so it would be wise of you to get sleep when you can." The younger knight nodded as his teacher disappeared behind the curtain that separated the injured sellsword from the rest of the group. Lady Guinevere appeared briefly to wash her own hands, golden sparks snapping from her finger-tips. "It is likely that we will be in surgery for some time, so please try to get some rest, all of you. I'm sure you're quite exhausted." And with that, she disappeared behind the curtain to try and bring Cai back from Deaths door. John stared at the curtain for a moment before sinking to the floor and rubbing the back of his neck. How long would they be here? Why did Marcus care so much about a stranger? They didn't have time to hang around... The Red Army was sure to be on their trail. Gods he was tired. Why was the thief still here? He'd left... And was back? Was he staying just to get on everyone's nerves? Probably.

Regardless, John did his best to ignore him, taking off his sword belt and settling the weapon next to him, pulling his crossbow off his back and doing the same with that as well. Marcus was right. It was better to get the rest when they had a chance. Behind the curtain, Marcus and Guinevere went directly to work, sponging off blood and repairing torn flesh. In a low voice, he asked, "Gwen... I hate to ask but... Do you think you could teach Leanna some of what you know? You have a quite the arsenal and I know that she would benefit from your tutelage." The healer didn't look up from her work - she was quite busy coaxing some of the poison out of his body - but she said, "I would be honored Marcus. Her training will begin after this young man is healed and resting comfortably." He smiled, just a little, but said nothing. Now it was time to save Cai's life.

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ooc: ehhh

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Only the dead have seen the end of the war



Viktor ignored the sound of the heavy footfalls approaching the throne room from down the hall; footfalls so heavy the very ground seemed to shake. A few moments passed as the sound and vibrations grew before the large double doors were heavily thrown open and the beast of a man, Ser Bartram entered the hall. The hall grew silent for a few moments as the sound from the banging doors echoed almost in time with clanging steps of the large man fully attired in his plate-mail. Viktor had turned to look at the other General only after he had come to a stop beside himself and Arte introduced him. As the introductions hadn't gone the other way, it surely meant this man had already been made to know who Viktor was beforehand, or knew of him already. Viktor was known in many places as a 'devil wearing human flesh'. He had incredibly powerful magic at his disposal, not to mention he can do something only the 'masters' could do after decades of practice; which was the summoning of creatures and beings not of this world. Viktor hoped the other General knew of him through tales, rather than having just been told, it would hopefully keep this monstrous man from trying anything stupid. Vikor was not unaware of the dried blood on Bartrams plate mail fists, or the way he was borderline disrespectful towards the King just now.

Viktor soon returned his attention back to Arte, just as the king started to speak once more, this time of the reason why they were here before him. Viktor knew it was likely to result in this, him having to go and fetch the princess and return her to the castle, though he had not at all been expecting the next words the King spoke.. did Arte intend to marry the broad? Well, it would undoubtedly help in quelling any thoughts of a rebellion against the new throne. Viktor had been about to reply with an affirmation of the princess' age but Bartram beat him too the punch.. the brute was so pleased with himself, he looked like a starving mutt who just received a bone."May I voice a suggestion?" Viktor asked shortly after Arte confirmed what Viktor suspected about wedding the princess. The king gave a nod for Viktor to continue, "Word should be passed through the city of the upcoming marriage. It should sound as though the princess is in full awareness and consent. The people may be dull but they do still love her. Let them believe she is simply away on one last trip through the kingdom before she takes to her wifely duties. It will ensure order while we retrieve her."

Arte had agreed that Viktor's plan sounded suitable enough to keep the peasants happy while the princess was retrieved and Arte was without his two most valuable assets. Himself and Bartram were soon dismissed from the Throne room and Viktor headed straight for his new, rather lavish suite to prepare for his departure in the morning.




OoC: Sorry it's so short and lame ;u; I tried </3

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TIME SKIP

Roughly 4-5 days have passed as the King's men search for the princess and her escort.
Late Morning // Overcast
It seems as if a storm is brewing but shouldn't reach IronPine until late afternoon.

The Princess has been trained by Gwen in a few defensive and offensive magics.
Cai's wound is healing nicely and he is growing stronger every day. However it is apparent he hasn't fully healed and it still pains him.

Aryel and Quinn have met in secrecy and their talks have lasted many hours. It seems that the Lady Knight has risen into a position of authority amongst the bandit clan, and the ruffians respect her to an extent. Others are still skeptical.


Continue . . .

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User Image To say it had been a long set of days would be an understatement. While Cai had been brought back from the brink of death, it had not been an easy recovery. The first day he had been as weak as a newborn, unable to even get up from the bed, and with a fever that seemed to refuse to break. It left him a sweating, muttering mess. The one phrase that he seemed to repeat the most was "Mam, Tad ... peidiwch â gadael i mi," while he eyes tracked people who weren't there.The fever finally broke after the first day, and with it his mutterings stopped.

Once the fever broke, his recovery was able to truly progress, as he was lucid enough to at the very least eat and drink on his own. It was mostly broth, but day three brought the ability to eat solid foods, and with it, Cai began to have the strength to get up and move around. It was short and unsteady walks at first, but about five days after he was wounded, Cai could at least move around normally for bits at a time. The others restricted his movements, but he could walk around the hut for longer and longer without tiring. The entire experience was akin to learning to move again as he forced his body to listen. Marcus still had not let the merc near his weaponry yet though, fearing the heavy shield would be too much at this point.

At the moment, Cai was helping prepare gathered vegetables and fruits for the healer to eat later. He figured he had not the coin to repay her, but could at least offer his services while she helped him heal. They were currently in conversation in the same language Cai had been muttering; it was weird to find another who knew the tongue.

"Nid oes gennych unrhyw syniad pa mor hir y mae wedi bod ers i mi wedi cael sgwrs iawn yn fy mamiaith." Cai said as he he moved to place the plant products in front of the fire for drying. The others had asked a couple of time what language he had been speaking, but he tended to change the topic, or claim he was too tired to talk.

"Ni allwch osgoi hyn gyda'r lleill ar gyfer hir Calibor . Yn ymddiried ynddynt." she said, handing him another rack to place in front of the fire.

Cai opened his mouth to reply but stopped at the sound of the door opening; someone else was coming into the hut. "Perhaps, but in time m'lady." Cai conceded with a shallow bow; it was all he could manage without risking falling over right now. In a fight he was going to dead weight or a decoy at the moment, so hopefully nothing would come to confrontation until he was better.

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Princess Leanna Idaetas


Saying the door opened was an understatement. The heavy wooden door burst inwards. Signaling the presence of some not so graceful royalty at the moment. "Ow! Ow Ow Ow!" Leanna yelped quietly under her breath, wringing her hand painfully doing an impatient dance until the healer pointed her to a bucket of spring water where she promptly dunked her hand. Sloshing water over the wooden floor.

She had long abandoned her ruined traveling clothes for breeches and a vest of Gwen's. Although they were a bit frumpy and too big for her she wore them with grace. The first few days she had stumbled, tripped, itched, sweated not entirely used to wearing garb that freed her moments so she was a sight to see (Unfortunately she received the brunt of her teasing from Dominic who seemed to still be at odds with both her and John but held a mild respect for Marcus and Cai). Now that her strength has returned however, she has made herself busy learning the small arts that Gwen knew. She had learned little about her gift when she was at the capitol, in fact a great majority of it had been self taught, thus she seemed to be botching quite a bit of her actual lessons as of late.

Leanna sighed as the burning sensation in her hand melted away, dissolving as she swished her hand in the spring water. That particular spell was one she had yet to master, and hated it so.
"You musn't be afraid of the fire. 'Tis why it burns you so." Gwenivere teased, hiding her small smile by tucking her chin. Leanna didn't take their teasing well when she was at her wits end with stubborn spells and her pretty face was already growing dark with frustration as she dried her hand. Blotches of read spread across her palm where the spell had nipped, but not very deep.

"I was not afraid." The Princess said brashly.
"Oh? Well then why have you been burned?"

Leanna folded her arms and leaned against the wooden door, giving Gwen a look that almost made the woman burst at her seams from laughing so hard. "My dear child, one day you'll look at someone like that and they'll be the ones to burst into flame. Where have all your valiant men gone?"

Accustom to this type of teasing Leanna responded: "Marcus took John hunting for game, they are within the forest, but not far away...and Dominic..." Leanna wrinkled her nose a bit. As if the mere sound of his name repulsed her. She still did not trust him. He was too smooth, too shifty. But he had a fondness for Cai, and Marcus as well so he stayed. "...his horse is gone, he must have went into the village." As the least recognizable member of the party he was the best member to send in for supplies without drawing attention. Marcus had given him money, biding him not to steal anything (something Leanna highly doubted would deter him) and most likely sent him on his way this morning while everyone was still asleep.





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Most of a week had passed and it had consisted mostly of helping Cai recover, training Leanna in what little offensive and defensive magics that Lady Guinevere knew, and helping stock the healer's cottage up with food for when they left; no one had a lot of money - Marcus was the only one who had any coin on him, at least to John's knowledge - so they were trying to pay her back any way they could. Things had been calm, though were still a bit tense yet between the princess, the younger knight, and the thief and though Marcus had yet to really tackle the problem, he knew he'd need to if they were all going to continue traveling together. It was anyone's guess as to why Dominic was even still with them. Marcus, John, and Leanna could have left several days ago, as the men were capable of helping the princess practice her magics, but the senior knight would not leave when Cai was still so weak. He had great respect for the mercenary, even considered him a friend, and so had taken it upon himself to make sure that Cai didn't do anything that might hinder his healing. Thus, he'd not allowed the merc near his shield yet, as he felt that it would be too much for him until more of his strength returned. John had even pitched in, helping Lady Gwen wherever he could and being the one to catch Cai when he had begun trying to walk again; it was like watching a child learning to walk. All were thankful when Cai was up and walking on his own, even if he did get tired out rather quickly. Currently, Cai was helping Lady Gwen around the cottage as the two loyal knights headed into the forest to hunt up some game that could be later dried and stored away, while Leanna practiced magic in front of the cottage and Dominic had been sent into town. Marcus had given the thief all the coin he'd had left and told him not to steal anything - they couldn't afford to have any attention drawn to them and since the thief was the least-recognizable (aside from Cai but they couldn't very well send him into town) so it made sense to send him in - but the knight didn't really believe that the coin would stop Dominic from thieving.

"Why did you give that thief the rest of your gold? You don't know if we can trust him!" whispered John as they stalked through the depths of the forest after a small herd of deer. "Whether or not we can trust him, he's stuck around this long and might has well do something useful," responded Marcus quietly, pulling an arrow from his quiver and knocking it; he was a decent shot, not as good as others or as good as he was with a bladed weapon, but good enough to get a couple of deer for Lady Gwen. John did the same, knocking an arrow - it was a good thing they'd brought their long bows with them as well as their swords and the crossbow - and in one smooth motion, the knights had down two deer with well placed shots. The rest of the herd scattered and they broke cover to get their kills and bring it back to the cottage. "Why is he even still here? All he does is antagonize her Majesty and try to pick fights; that thief isn't worth keeping around," grouched the younger knight, retrieving his arrow from the deer he'd killed and cleaning it before placing it back into his quiver before preparing to carry the animal back to Gwen's. "You're sounding like a child," snapped Marcus. "We are one of very few still loyal to her ladyship and can use all the help we can get, even if we have to deal with those we'd rather not. He hasn't left or ratted us out-" yet "So we must trust that he will behave at least that much until he leaves us or until his horse decides that it doesn't like the princess anymore. I expect you to start behaving like a knight of the Royal Guard instead of a complaining child; if you can't, you will remain here with the Lady Guinevere until you can." John gaped at his mentor; he'd never heard Marcus speak to him in such a manner, no matter how poorly he behaved or for the things he'd said... So why now? "I apologize, Ser Greystone," muttered John, abashed, as they began to drag their kills back to the cottage. Marcus said nothing in response and the younger knight knew that he had crossed a line, though just what that line was... He wasn't a 100% certain.

When they got back, they found that Leanna was not outside but her voice was coming from within the cottage, which indicated that she was inside speaking with Lady Guinevere and Cai. Marcus and John said nothing as they went about stringing up their kills and beginning to skin and gut them; the faster they got this done, the faster they could set some of it to dry and the sooner they could go and get more. A couple of deer, perhaps some fish, and a couple of rabbits would be plenty to stock of the Lady's winter store and allow her to focus on her own magics and safety in such a dangerous location. Though Marcus did not look angry, there was an air about him that suggested it was best just to let him be while he expertly skinned the deer he had killed. John knew his mentor well enough to know this and so remained silent, blood staining the ground around them as they went about preparing the deer meat to be dried and stored.

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{The Thief with a Code}



Where: Iron Pine
With: his thoughts...
Mood: unusually calmed








Pre-skip:

Dominic's face drooped just a little, realizing that no one was in the mood for jokes. This should have been obvious. In fact, throughout their entire trip, it should have been obvious. It was. He knew they didn't hold him in the slightest regard. He should've left long before now... he had even tried. However, something strange was drawing him into this companionship. Scarlet was a good reason to stay, but the fact that she felt the need to surround herself with this lot isn't what turned his mind. It was her reason. Why? Why was she so persistent in dragging him on this journey? Sure, she seemed to like the princess, but there had to be more. It was like when a herd of cattle swarmed together before a storm. Scarlet was his life-long friend, but it wasn't normally something that would deter him from following his own path. He needed to know what was so special about this... herd of individuals. Where did he fit into all this? He held no relation to them. He held no trait that snuggly rested with the rest of the puzzle. He was the odd piece out. As he pondered, the thief sat calmly, remaining silent. The healer... she had called him by name. Had the others mentioned him? Surely not. They thought him unimportant enough that he was certain none even bothered to speak his name. So, how had it come to pass that Guinevere... Guinevere... he knew her name as well. Though, he recalled that one had said her name once before. So, maybe it wasn't so strange for him to know hers as it was for her to know his. He knew the cottage. He knew the clearing. Had he once...he had. It came back to him. Caught in a trap of his own design, Dominic had gashed his leg and been nearly mauled by a doe. Not a buck... a doe. Dangerous bastards they were. Now was not the time for a misplacement of thoughts. He focused as hard as he could, nearly entering a meditative state. Gwen had found him on a trip to pick herbs. She brought him back to this cottage. She healed him. She was a stern woman, with a gentle touch. He remembered now. It was nice to have an old memory in it's rightful place. What was he thinking? He had never forgotten about this helpful healer. How could he?

Post-skip:

Days later and Calibor seemed to be healing nicely. Though, still in pain, the merc would be fine. Dom's days had been spent in the most excruciating torture of his life... silence. The others did not force such torture upon him. Rather, he placed himself under a secret oath to keep from causing more issues than needed amongst the group. That, and while not speaking, he could focus on observing. Observing what? Everyone else. Their day to day routine. What they strived for. It was basic, or it seemed that way. For Marcus it was loyalty and care. For John it was approval and infatuation. For Cai, it was survival and honor. For Leanna... he was not so sure. At times her actions hinted at simply getting what she wanted. Other times she was more worried for others rather than herself. It was strange to see two sides of a spectrum revealed in one person. Like a coin with an open hand on one side, a closed fist on the other. All of this ran through his mind as he strolled through the streets of Iron Pine. He had been sent here for supplies. Once Cai was able to travel, they would be heading off again. To where, he was unsure. It's not as if they hadn't said. Dom had simply ignored. It wasn't out of disrespect. He would just rather not know. This way, if he decided to leave, he wouldn't be tempted to go back after Scarlet. Dominic halted as he came upon a kiosk selling fine jewelry. He eyed the rubies and emeralds. These precious stones had to have traveled from below the southern border. The desert badlands. It made him shiver for a moment... or was it the n** in the air. It was quite cloudy. A storm was brewing and he needed to hurry it along. He gave a smile and a nod to the merchant before walking away quietly. There was one last thing on his list: rope. Scarlet snorted. She was a desert horse and the cold temperature was possibly aggravating her nostrils. Either that, or she saw something he hadn't. Which was more likely, because some soldiers had just strolled into town. Well, they looked like soldiers. Their colors... their banner... it was a bit unknown to him. Was it... or was he forgetting again? Whichever the case, they seemed a bit untrained. More like town guards or mercs rather than soldiers. Their ranks were poorly uniformed. Many of them wandered about, putting their hands all over the merchandise as if they already owned it.

Surely these were not soldiers from Vallea. Red Castle? Much too far out of jurisdiction. They wouldn't have traveled so abroad without alarming the inlands. Besides, Red Castle would be riding crimson horses like Scarlet, and would be sporting scimitars rather than simple long blades and short swords. Silver Haven? No. The armour configuration didn't match. Besides, this small troop would make up a quarter their army. Dom was exaggerating, of course, but still. A troop this large... Silver Haven wouldn't risk their forces in such a dire time when kings were being overthrown. Yuck... Politics. It was time for him to leave... but he still needed rope.

Dominic approached the ropemaker's establishment. He cocked a brow at his own labeling. Ropemaker? Could it be any more obvious what the guy did for a living? It was the man's literal craftsman title. He did nothing but make rope. Dominic guessed it was for the best. If you did nothing but string rope your entire life-span, you were liable to be damn good at it. Still... Ropemaker? What about Roper, or Ropeman. Hell, even Rope Craftsman was far more attractive. Dominic was getting tired of the word, rope. It was making his head spin. From this point on, he would call it... a cable. That sounded snooty. He liked it. "Good morning to you sir." The man just looked at him in a daze, "You have gold?" Dominic's cheerful expression dropped. Arse. "Needing some cable. How much for fourteen cubits?" The man looked confused before finally flashing a toothless grin, "You mean rope. Depends on the material. Strong or decorative?" Dominic raised a brow, "Strong." An Iron Pine craftsmen selling decorative cable? That wasn't exactly something he expected. "You will be needing some of my hemp rope. Currently it is the strongest I hold. I must add that it is quite unusual for someone to order so little. Only fourteen cubits. For even a short trip in the mountains you would need at the very least, thirty cubits. Which I can give you for no less than thirty silver." Dominic laid a single gold piece on the table, "This is all I have. At one sliver a cubit, it should at the very least, buy me what I requested." The man smiled again, "You would be incorrect to assume such. One silver per cubit is a special price reserved for those who buy thirty in length or more. Fourteen cubits will cost you two gold." Dominic scoffed, That is nearly the same price of the thirty." The man frowned, finally hiding his rotten gums, "I told you it was a special deal. I'll even make you a better deal. Two gold for thirty cubits. You'll save a bit of extra silver." It was Dom's turn to smile. He had the man where he wanted him. Dominic leaned in and whispered to the man, "Look... old man... I know you're having trouble keeping this place running. Those soldiers outside... they show up often... don't they? I bet it scares away business. It's why you are trying to sell decorative cable. It's cheap to make, but sells nicely to those who can be swindled into buying it for it's beauty rather than it's hold. Your shop is in trouble. I am going to give you this gold piece... and in return you will give me forty cubits of your finest hemp cable. Either that... or you've lost my business as well. Take my offer... I might send other business your way." The old man was caught off guard. As Dom spoke, the cable craftsman seemed to melt into the floor. He nodded, "I apologize. New special, just for you. One gold piece, forty cubits." He went to the back of his establishment and came back with the order, thanking Dominic for his patronage in the most apologetic tone. Dominic had heard this same tone of voice throughout his morning in Iron Pine. He left the shop, lifting the cable over Scarlet's back.

Quite some time later, Dominic rode into the clearing, spotting Marcus and John. They were skinning fresh kill. That was nice. Soon, Lady Gwen would have plenty stored for the harsh winter to come. He recalled doing similar chores to repay Guinevere for stitching him up some time ago. He approached the cottage, tying up Scarlet. He was still amazed that the crimson horse had let him lead her away from the others. Perhaps she knew they would be returning? Either way, without her, he would not have been able to bring all of this back. So, he was happy she had complied. After finishing the knot, he strolled over to Marcus and John, who were preparing the meat to be laid out and dried. Seeing Marcus' hands free for a moment, Dominic tossed him the coin pouch. When he caught it, he looked at Dom quizzically. He hadn't expected there to be much if any left, which seemed to be putting him under the suspicion that, "Before you ask, no, I didn't steal anything. I am simply a proficient dealer." That was when John spoke up, asking why he hadn't bought more, "Scarlet is a Crimson War Horse, built for speed, not a pack-mule. Any more and it would have weighed her down too much for the trip back. Besides, that coin will do you good if we get in a bind later on. What we really need is another horse, but until we can get our hands on one..." Marcus shot him a glare, "I do not mean steal. You've made that pretty clear. Until we can get our hands on another horse, we need to find a seating arrangement. The lightest two on Scarlet, the next two lightest on Charlie, Cai's horse, who has a higher carrying capacity. We can split the supplies between the two so that neither is overburdened." he knew better at this point than to make demands so he added, "Thoughts?" If they expected to him to show any kind of respect, they wouldn't wave off his suggestion. He was in a... g...g...g... group... nearly made him vomit. Let's try that again. He was in a g... group now, so if they wanted cooperation, they would show some in return. He didn't think they wouldn't, but it was obvious he was the odd man out, so it sometimes put him on edge.


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                                                                          As the rider yanked his armored warhorse to a stop it let out a frothy garbled scream of protest, digging it's sharp hooves into the soft fertile soil of the outskirts of IronPine. Pine's Point, the very first of the jagged mountain range that loomed over the still glass waters of NorthPond lay just underneath and before that the lumber village of Iron Pine.

                                                                          "Where are my scouts?" Bartram the Bloody growled wheeling his anxious horse in impatient circles as he surveyed his surroundings. His company of riders waited stone faced behind him. The Knight Commanders temper was a powerful and often fatal thing. He was not to be trifled with when it reared it's ugly head. "SQUIRE!" A rat faced youth jumped to the commanders attention giving his mount a good kick in the ribs to join his master at the crest of the hill. "Sir!" The squire pipped with all the courage he could muster, attempting to sound as equally menacing and guttural as his superior. "The scouts are enroute they have infiltrated the village and are currently questioning locals. We shall know within the hour." For some forces the statement would sound quite optimistic. However, the Red Army's 'questioning' isn't exactly the most pleasant thing. It depends on which officer has the pleasure of doing the questioning. Bartram's 'questioning' was arguably the worst of all either way you were going to lose something; a hand, a limb, your life, or at best if he's in a particularly good mood your coin and a finger or two.

                                                                          "I will not settle for waiting like a meek house wife. We will meet them in the village." His predatory grin surfaced, his demenor was enough to make his own squire wet himself. With one twist of his powerful meaty hands he could probably rip the rat boy's head from his shoulders and throw it clear past Pine's Point.

                                                                          Bartram had yet to consult his fellow mage general for opinions or plans. In fact he didn't do much consulting at all. He simply just rushed bull headed into things and usually his immense aggression and superior swordsmanship carries him far. If not the ominous air of terror he kept about him. He kicked his horse sharply in the ribs and the creature balked and wheeled, nipping at the scouts nimble stallion. Viktor and his battle mages were to presumably follow as he cantered down the steep slope towards the village.

                                                                          Upon his approach shutters were drawn by the not so occupied residents of IronPine. Shop keepers stands were closed, or the ones that fled all together were being picked apart by his scouts. Two were fighting vigorously for the same piece of jewlery, until Bartram drew his great sword from it's scabbard and in one fell swoop beheaded them both as he rode by. Now that got quite the attention and caused a bit of a panic.

                                                                          "Hold! Or I will slay you all!" Not really a bartering coin, those in his company knew he would most likely slay the remaining witnesses anyways. Those that escape successfully have been granted the hard earned privileged of living to tell tales of his cruelty and blood lust.
                                                                          Blood had soaked the hard packed dirt of IronPine soaking the nearest villagers holey boots, as they were too paralyzed with fear to move.
                                                                          "Bring your witnesses! Search the town!" His marauders began to gin from ear to ear, joshing each other around and fiddling with their nervous mounts. Everyone in Bartram's company knew what 'search' entailed. Oh yes, the village was theirs, single handedly seized by the tales spread on the wind about Bartram the Bloody. Who would dare challenge him? Perhaps someone that wished to be slaughtered grotesquely, or harbored chronic depression and wished an alternative to suicide maybe?

                                                                          "My good friends and I are looking for someone very particular..." Bartram shouted his voice carrying over the village and well beyond the tree line. "Someone very special, and no doubt well known by you dirty urchins...and you will tell me where she resides...or things will get most....unpleasant..." A woman's screams could be heard from the second story of the inn, combined with the general disruption and chaos of Bartram's looters it provided the perfect atmosphere.

                                                                          "Where is the healer Gwenivere?"
                                                                          Silence. Bartram threw his reins over the saddle horn and dismounted, sword drawn. He abruptly slit the first villager thrust out to him, a youth of no more than twenty years. His cut was exquisite, leaving the boy just enough time to gargle horrifically and spray blood all over the soldier holding him captive, and over Bartram's leathers.
                                                                          "WHERE IS THE HEALER GWENIVERE?" Bartram roared, sending a whirlwind of panicked birds off into the dark sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

                                                                          He cut down another villager thrust upon him, and another before he finally got his answer.

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The princess slammed the door open with all the grace befitting a woodsman, not a princess. It became refreshing after a while to see this side of her; especially in comparison to her rude graces at their first meetings. Seeing this was like seeing a mask fall away. Graces were an annoying concept to Cai, who did not like seeing people use manners to try and show they were above someone else. Blame his past.

As Leanna dunked her hand in the water and bantered about spell work, Cai quietly finished getting the herbs set up in front of the fire. He was not a magic user by any stretch of the imagination, and so was not qualified to weigh in on this conversation. All he could say is Gwen seemed more confident in her skills, so it might do well for the Princess to listen to her. Normally, he would say something, but he owed them both quite a bit. That was enough to stay his tongue.

Both looked at as he let out a small groan of pain. He had bent down to retrieve a pot to bring outside, and his body has disagreed with it. The merc straightened up, holding the pot, and looked at both of them. “I'm fine, body is healing. Take it slow, I know.” he said with a smile as he headed out o the door.

Once outside, he set the pot just outside the door and leaned against the hut. The pain had been greater than he was willing to admit, and he rested a hand on where he had been hurt. While the wound was healed, it didn't feel like it. At the sound of the others being close to the hut, he rested his hands at his side and opened his eyes, looking out over the forest. It was as good a cover as any.

“Birds are acting strange...” he noted as the winged beasts all seemed to be taking flight. Perhaps a storm was coming, he wasn't too sure. He was well traveled, but he was not enough of a woodsman to know why certain creatures would act a certain way. Well, that and he was really only commenting as a distraction. Being coddled and weak was not something he enjoyed at all. Sure, he could put up with it, but even his patience could run out.

That was until the whiff of smoke hit him, different from Gwen's fire. Her fire released the smell of burning wood and herbs, and was really quite pleasant. This smoke... it smelt noxious and offending to the senses. Burning wood, pitch, and other smells... it brought back unpleasant childhood memories for him. Never was there ever good coming from this smell. He knew now though why the animals were fleeing, the smart ones always fled from a fire. Their group wasnot well tested... hopefully they proved smart

"Gwen! John!" he yelled at the group; when the healer came out, she had a look of concern, obviously thinking he had hurt himself some more. "Birds flying away, smells like a burning village. Something very very wrong is happening." he explained. She seemed to smell the air, confirming his theory. It wasn't just the birds now, other animals could be heard scurrying away. Away from the house... which meant something was coming towards them. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"We need to go, now." Cai said. There was no thoughts of saving the village, burning a village down meant a large force, larger than their band could overcome. He was still mending, which dragged them down even further. "No questioning, move!" he yelled. Any time they spent arguing or trying to figure out what to do ate into their chances to survive. They needed to get riding and get as far away as fast away as possible. A fight would not end well in their favor.

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Only the dead have seen the end of the war



Viktor came to a slow halt, bringing his lovely black horse with crimson mane, tail and eyes, to a stop beside Bartram, but a few good feet away. He’s already had more than enough of this man’s brutish attitude. The idiot was nothing more than a mounted ape at this point, spewing anger and spit as though that somehow brought him dominance. It apparently worked on those too weak willed to reign hold over their emotions. Even the brute’s own forces practically pissed themselves by simply having his eyes fall upon them. That was no way for any mans forces to behave.

Viktor’s own forces showed absolutely no fear of their General, rather they seemed to respect him greatly. He was a master of the arts, and one of the few Summoners in the world actually worth anything. So, they followed his orders without question, but would do nothing without permission… such as break ranks and start pillaging a village, which was bound to happen as soon as they made their way into it. Which, was apparently right at that moment, as Bartram suddenly jammed his horse in the ribs and started off towards the village. With a flick of the reins, Viktor’s horse started on it’s way once more, keeping easy pace with Bartrams while their forces followed them on, into the village. And, as Viktor and his forces suspected, it was instant chaos as Bartrams forces started their pillaging. Bartram stopped them, but only for a moment before unleashing them once more to search the city for their quarry. Viktor brought forward two of his scouts and spoke quietly to them before sending them off. One went deeper into the village while the other made for the outskirts.

The other general shouted to the village people who looked nothing more than sheep trapped by wolves, identifying who it was they were looking for, but no one seemed terribly eager to provide the information wanted by the group of mounted kingsmen who had just entered the town and instantly started to pillage. ”There are much simpler ways-“ Viktor tried to speak but Bartram, as per what Viktor was becoming accustomed too, completely ignored him and hopped off his horse and slit the throat of one of the villagers. Viktor simply rolled his eyes and remained mounted, waiting for the ape to finish it’s show of dominance. As he sat, one of his riders approached and leant over to deliver some information before turning his horse and getting back into rank. ”Bartram,” He rose his voice, forcing it to be heard above the screams and fire, though the one Viktor spoke to seemed oblivious to his voice, “We have the information. Let’s move on.” But he was ignored, as Bartram killed one after the other of sheep of this village before one of them gave the information the Ape was trying to get. With a small gesture of his hand, a few of Viktors swiftest men broke from the group of horsemen and raced out of the village, onward to the entire company’s destination.

I’m really going to enjoy killing you one of these days. Viktor thought as he glared at the brute as the man finally mounted once more and looked at Viktor with victorious bragging in his eyes. Viktor just stared with cold eyes at the man before clicking his horse into a trot that quickly turned to a gallop, leaving Bartram behind for the moment. That was sure to piss the stupid oaf off, Viktor thought with a smirk as he followed after the men he had sent just moment prior. He hadn’t given Bartram the chance to gloat while passing on the information [not that he was like to pass on the information gained], so he hoped the man would become at least somewhat infuriated to find Viktor already knew of their destination and was on his way to beating the idiotic brute there.

The Kingsmen arrived at the small cottage just as their prey were attempting to flee. Of course they saw the fire from the village. We’re lucky this idiot didn’t make us lose them completely. Viktor half scowled as he dropped his horses reins and spoke in a strange language, while drawing three misty blue runes in the air before him, “Mbuhudm yw bhumyr ert syrwurilird, pirt dy la zucc ert syrdeur la bhia. Irmrehi! The runes shimmered momentarily before they spun away, expanding at an exponential rate before they slammed to a halt just beyond the fleeing prey, forming a strange, curved, glowing wall that if, were they not to stop their horses, they would smash right into as if it were brick. Viktor calmly lowered his hands to the reins of his horse, which still ran without his guidance, and slowed it now that their prey was trapped, the only way out was through the small army that had come to a stop just short of passing the edges of the runic walls. “Give us Leanna and the rest may leave with their lives.” He called as he finally came to a stop about 50 feet away from the group. He had no intention of keeping the others alive, but if it got him the princess easily and without her becoming too injured one might as well try. It wasn’t likely to work but it would be a whole lot easier if it did.


OoC: If you need me to change anything, just let me know! biggrin
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