Birthright: Tuornen Chapter Five

[RocEter]

"Still got what ever is trying to get through this hatch.." Foerde says and then moves over to it.

He starts to clear away the dirt and what ever else maybe on the floor with his boot, by sweeping it aside. He wants to get a better look at this door. "Think we should open it? Could always just stab at what ever tries to come up.."

[ewancummins]

STANDOFF IN RIVERSIDE

The swarthy man presses the glittering edge of his knife harder against Meg's neck, drawing a thin trickle of blood. The big woman goes deathly pale and freezes in place, eyes wide and lips pressed into a tight line.

"Clyde! Stop!", yells the dwarf to the bear, hoping the ursine does stop. Torthur's eyes flitter from Meg's to Fez'. "Time I put me foot down" he says as he looks at Meg, then Fez again. "Awright. We kin talk all nice like, or not. Up to ye. Jest 'member, yer next actions is
gonna dictate if ye live or die. Ball's in yer court. Fez, I presume?"

Clyde rumbles to a halt about ten feet short of Meg and her captor. The bear sits back on its haunches and yawns.

The man with the knife flicks his eyes back and forth between the dwarf and Roald.
"Ball? Court? What?"
He jerks the blade again, drawing more blood, and begins to walk Meg towards the doorway of a nearby building.

A squat man wrapped in a dirty gray cloak, wearing a scarf twisted around the lower part of his face, darts out of the doorway to join the hostage-taker. The newcomer sticks his hand into Meg’s apron and yanks out the coin purse.

The cloaked man says,"We got what we came for. Let’s get out while we can."

The greasy little man with the knife at Meg’s neck laughs, spitting over the alewife's shoulder at Roald and Torthur.

“You fools should have stayed in the walls. We rule the streets out here.”

[VAN]

CROAKER NORGE

Filbert has drawn his own sword as well and paying attention at his footing tries to indicate the slippery ground to Devlin and Root. The halfling gasps at the sight of the fungus, he looks at them from distance hoping they will not spit any seeds to them. When the croaking gets suddenly lower Filbert looks around as expecting someone to appear, someone that was responsible for the noise, but he is unable to spot anyone.

[ewancummins]

CROAKER NORGE

Filbert has drawn his own sword as well and paying attention at his footing tries to indicate the slippery ground to Devlin and Root. The halfling gasps at the sight of the fungus, he looks at them from distance hoping they will not spit any seeds to them. When the croaking gets suddenly lower Filbert looks around as expecting someone to appear, someone that was responsible for the noise, but he is unable to spot anyone.

Filbert hears faint splashing, a sound which seems to be getting closer to his position. Could be frogs hopping into the water, but he can't see what's making the noise.

[VAN]

Filbert takes couple steps back so he is closer at the source of light and gets ready to attack in case whatever is approaching isn't a frog but a threat.

"I heard something Your Grace, it might be a frog, but better be careful."

[ewancummins]

CROAKER NORGE

Filbert takes couple steps back so he is closer at the source of light and gets ready to attack in case whatever is approaching isn't a frog but a threat.

"I heard something Your Grace, it might be a frog, but better be careful."

''Ribbet."
Not a frog, that sound; it was a voice like that of a human being...


A figure shorter than Devlin but head and shoulders taller than Filbert steps out of the mists just inches from the halfing's left side!


http://www.waouo.com/wp-content/uploads ... eripad.jpg


The woman, clad in a black dress trimmed with damp and mouldering lace, leans over Filbert and stares at him.

Root drops the lantern on the soft ground at the base of the stairway and scrambles up the steps on his hands and knees, cursing and slipping.

[Varrus the Ethical]

Riverside

“You fools should have stayed in the walls. We rule the streets out here.”

"You rule the streets? If that's true, then why do you need to hide behind a fat woman? Coward." Roald sneers at Fez.

[Adam]

Cormac kneels, panting to look at the hatch.

"Looks like the gobs wanted to keep whatever is down here locked in." He looks up to Foerde. "Could be yer brothers. I'll open the hatch, you have yer weapon ready in case I'm wrong."

So long as Foerde concurs, he waits for the big man to get ready and then opens the trap door.

[JMaytr]

Croaker Norge-

Devlin takes a step closer to the woman, his weapons slightly raaised, ready to strike should she attack Filbert.

"Not so close there woman. I am Devlin Flaertes, Duke of Tuornen. Who are you? Why are you here in the Norge?"

[ewancummins]

CROAKER NORGE

Croaker Norge-

Devlin takes a step closer to the woman, his weapons slightly raaised, ready to strike should she attack Filbert.

"Not so close there woman. I am Devlin Flaertes, Duke of Tuornen. Who are you? Why are you here in the Norge?"

The strange woman spins away from Filbert and Devlin, laughing as she vanishes in the mists.

Devlin hears her voice calling to him from some spot further from the stairway's base,

"Let the red dawn surmise

What we shall do,

When this blue starlight dies

And all is through"

[VAN]

Filbert gasps and barely holds himself of not striking the odd woman. However he keeps his sword up and is ready to defend himself if needed. Really grateful that Devlin speaks up and the woman moved away from his left side he whispers trying to control the tremble at his voice:

"Your..Your Grace I think she said the same phrases that were written at the wall. She should be the Mad Meave."

[RocEter]

Cormac kneels, panting to look at the hatch.

"Looks like the gobs wanted to keep whatever is down here locked in." He looks up to Foerde. "Could be yer brothers. I'll open the hatch, you have yer weapon ready in case I'm wrong."

So long as Foerde concurs, he waits for the big man to get ready and then opens the trap door.

"Right, lets do this.." Foerde says getting ready to strike at what ever may come out of that trap door if it isn't human.

[Brock Marsh Runoff]

GRIFFIN CASTLE

Rennault dips his head and touches one end of his unstrung bow to his forelock. "You do us honor, my lord." He remains standing until the count takes a seat, and then he finds a chair of his own and gladly takes a goblet. "We're riding to meet His Grace near Croaker," Renn says, by way of explanation for why he and his men have arrived at Castle Griffin. "I'm hoping that you might have a place for us before we set out in the morning."

He takes a sip and nods. "I appreciated your support at the War Council. Though I'm yet new to Haes, it's good to know there are men in Tuornen who know what kind of work we must to do ensure that the realm not only endures, but thrives."

[ewancummins]

CROAKER NORGE

Filbert gasps and barely holds himself of not striking the odd woman. However he keeps his sword up and is ready to defend himself if needed. Really grateful that Devlin speaks up and the woman moved away from his left side he whispers trying to control the tremble at his voice:

"Your..Your Grace I think she said the same phrases that were written at the wall. She should be the Mad Meave."

''The Shadow-spawn mistakes a borrowed mummer’s rhyme for my rustic verse, but no matter....’’

The weird woman steps out of the mists in front of Devlin and Filbert, out of sword’s reach. She smiles at Devlin and his fool, stroking her long hair with slender, pale fingers.
‘’Call me Maeve. Or Mab. Or Queen of your Heart’s Desire. But don’t call me Mad, or else I may do something….crazy.’’

[ewancummins]

GRIFFIN CASTLE

GRIFFIN CASTLE

Rennault dips his head and touches one end of his unstrung bow to his forelock. "You do us honor, my lord." He remains standing until the count takes a seat, and then he finds a chair of his own and gladly takes a goblet. "We're riding to meet His Grace near Croaker," Renn says, by way of explanation for why he and his men have arrived at Castle Griffin. "I'm hoping that you might have a place for us before we set out in the morning."

He takes a sip and nods. "I appreciated your support at the War Council. Though I'm yet new to Haes, it's good to know there are men in Tuornen who know what kind of work we must to do ensure that the realm not only endures, but thrives."

Count Montros takes his wine in feeble little sips, like a small child allowed a cup by the indulgence of his elders.
The old man’s watery blue eyes glaze over. He mumbles,

"We are related, you know. My great-great-great grandfather Boreom wedded your mother's ancestor--I forget the exact relation, but it was in the maternal line-- Onwen the Fair. Their wedding portrait survives, although it is so dim with age Onwen's famed golden locks are now brown as dead leaves.''

He sips more wine and his eyes sharpen, focusing on Rennault.

“Croaker Norge, yes…He mentioned that in the War Council.
Monsedge ought to have been mine. I petitioned the Young Duke’s father for control of the province; the Emberils are all gone and we Haesriens have the best claim. Don’t think me greedy—I proposed to share a portion of the rents and duties with the other lords, including your father. Duke Gilgaed thought it better to leave the land in the charge of a mere sheriff, one of the small folk. Such are the merry whimsies of dukes.

When you reach Croaker Norge, give my regards to our illustrious duke. And whatever service he asks of you, I advise that you perform it cheerfully. House Flaertes is a good bit younger than our families, my kinsman. Young families often wear the character of many young men, lusty and proud and yet not quite sure of themselves. You must keep Duke Devlin’s friendship if you are to convince him to stop the war with Alamie on favorable terms, at least buy a truce till the planting season has passed. If he insists on fighting until Carilon is dead or in chains, then he must be ready to destroy both duchies. Duke Carilon would sooner see us all burn than bend the knee to a Flaertes. My niece assures me of that. ”