CRIMSON CHAINS Chapter One: The Festival

[JMaytr]

Bright decorations and streamers flap in the soft wind while laughter flits through the air. The village of Clemmonton is in a festive mood as the annual Spring Cheese Festival begins. Tables line the center road beginning at Mama Cass’s Inn and ending at the front doors of the rowdy Wanton Wench tavern. Townsfolk place spicy, homemade dishes upon each for a breakfast feast. A ring of maidens dances nearby singing while a group of youths throws powdered paint at each other creating a kaleidoscope of colors.

[ewancummins]

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(I will edit or remove this if we aren't supposed to post yet.)

Walleran marches downs the road into the village, leading his mule. His armor is stowed in a sack on the beast's back, his shield slung over the bundle, but he wears his sword at his hip.
The fighting-man casts an amused look about at the the young people dancing and fooling about with colored dust, then heads for Mama Cass's Inn.

Inside, he looks for the proprietor. If he's able and the price is fair, he'll secure lodging for himself and a stall for his mule.

And the the whole while, he keeps his eyes open for other armed men. Anybody walking about with a sword but him? Anyone in armor?

[JMaytr]

As the old warrior enters the inn, he almost bumps against a boy, aged maybe 13 years, rushing out holding a pot with a red cloth.

"Excuse me, milord," the boy says, "If you seek a room, I'll be right back. I have to rush this stew to me mum. The festivals soon to start and the first event is the reserves feast. You've come at a good time as everyone's invited to eat."

He moves towards the line of food tables and places the pot before a comely woman in her mid-years, perhaps 40 winters. She has a warm smile but sad eyes. She whispers something to the boy who nods an affirmative and speeds towards the Wanton Wench Tavern. He takes the porch steps two at a time and then pounds on the door.

Walleran sees no obviously armored folk yet, but his trained eyes spies a woman wearing a green cloak with a longbow unstung across her back. She holds a basket-sized egg in two rough leather gloves. There are almost a dozen villagers lining up at the tables for the multi-dish buffet. They make no progress down the line, stalled at the first table. Mama Cass-presumably the woman the boy brought the pot to calls up to Walleran with an authoritative tone.

"I'll be serving hot stew down 'ere luv, not checking folk in. Come grab a bowl, well, when that damn fool Horvath wakes up and brings em out. Every year it's something else with that man."

[kintire]

A young woman in a low cut high slit dress swiftly emerges from the Wanton Wench, and views the scene briefly, eyes lingering on the armed stranger for a moment before addressing the lad

"Don't break your hand there, will you? Or did the door call you a name? What's the crisis?"

Her sharp words are softened by her amused teasing tone.

[ewancummins]

As the old warrior enters the inn, he almost bumps against a boy, aged maybe 13 years, rushing out holding a pot with a red cloth.

"Excuse me, milord," the boy says, "If you seek a room, I'll be right back. I have to rush this stew to me mum. The festivals soon to start and the first event is the reserves feast. You've come at a good time as everyone's invited to eat."

He moves towards the line of food tables and places the pot before a comely woman in her mid-years, perhaps 40 winters. She has a warm smile but sad eyes. She whispers something to the boy who nods an affirmative and speeds towards the Wanton Wench Tavern. He takes the porch steps two at a time and then pounds on the door.

Walleran sees no obviously armored folk yet, but his trained eyes spies a woman wearing a green cloak with a longbow unstung across her back. She holds a basket-sized egg in two rough leather gloves. There are almost a dozen villagers lining up at the tables for the multi-dish buffet. They make no progress down the line, stalled at the first table. Mama Cass-presumably the woman the boy brought the pot to calls up to Walleran with an authoritative tone.

"I'll be serving hot stew down 'ere luv, not checking folk in. Come grab a bowl, well, when that damn fool Horvath wakes up and brings em out. Every year it's something else with that man."

Walleran grins.

"A bowl of stew sounds just grand, marm. I'll just see to my mule first and then come right back. Thank you."

He steps back outside, relieves the mule of its burden, ties the animal to a post, and gives it some water by hand and after that a carrot. ''The servants will be about giving you more water and a proper feed shortly." He scratches the animal affectionately behind the ear, then heads back in carrying his shield, armor, and other kit.

Walleran sets down his load under the edge of an empty table and takes a seat. When the line unjams a bit, he'll join it. In the meantime, he again looks about the room and takes note of anybody who seems unusual. The woman with the bow gets a bit of his attention, and so does that big egg. He makes no secret of his observation of the room, and if anyone meets his gaze, he smiles and nods.

[JMaytr]

The interior of Mama Cassandras Bed and Breakfast is clean and smells of lemon oil. It is silent and empty as the main street outside fills with more citizens and travelers. The line still doesn't progress and Mama Cass is starting to wear an expression of anger.

The woman with the egg stands near a large steel shield that has been turned into a massive skillet. She catches Wallerans eye as she sets the egg nearby and sets fire to the wood beneath the blackened shield. She doesn't smile as her eyes narrow to slits. The morning sun catches a badge on her belt as she stands and cracks open the enormous egg, spilling golden fluid onto the shileld like milk from a pail.

[JMaytr]

Caitlin sees Ezraa Elwood standing before her. The youth flushes as always when he spied her.

"Um...good morn Caitlin," he says, voice quivering. "I've come for the plate ware that Mister Horvath promised my mam last night for the mornin' feast. There folk a' linin up already and stew'll go cold soon."

Having only arrived herself within the past two-hour, Caitlin realizes that she hasn't yet seen her boisterous boss, Horvath "the Hammer" Magnae all morning. She'd spent her time as always each day: preparing the iron stove for shift-long pretzel cooking and cleaning the main floor of peanut shells, spilled ale, and vomit. The only room on the tavern's small second floor was Horvath's. A window he'd had cut to overlook the work floor still had its maroon curtains drawn closed.

[ewancummins]

MAMA CASSANDRA'S INN

The interior of Mama Cassandras Bed and Breakfast is clean and smells of lemon oil. It is silent and empty as the main street outside fills with more citizens and travelers. The line still doesn't progress and Mama Cass is starting to wear an expression of anger.

The woman with the egg stands near a large steel shield that has been turned into a massive skillet. She catches Wallerans eye as she sets the egg nearby and sets fire to the wood beneath the blackened shield. She doesn't smile as her eyes narrow to slits. The morning sun catches a badge on her belt as she stands and cracks open the enormous egg, spilling golden fluid onto the shield like milk from a pail.

Walleran pins on his rank insignia where it shows plainly

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soldier background

before walking over.
''Big egg."

[JMaytr]

The woman watches as Walleran walks over. She sees his insignia pin and gives him a nod of acknowledgment as he speaks.

"Aye- a Roc's. Unfertilized. I trek into the Ninkini forest north of here every winter to procure one for the feast. No secret 'ere. Soldier, I see. You've got the stubble of a man no longer in service to the king. Hopefully, you left your duties honorably. I'm warden Saraa Rawell, commander of Lord Mayor Volaarae's guard. Come for the festival?"

[Wolfglide of the Fraternity]

An impromptu game of darts in the Wanton Wench freezes as an older gentleman, caught right in the act of throwing his third dart toward the wooden board, stares transfixed through the open doorway, his pupils crowding out his irises.

When another player asks if he is alright, he scrunches his eyes tightly shut, saying "The glare from the open door is throwing off my shot."

Not that there is much out there to cause a glare. All he has is an obstructed view of townsfolk gathering and children playing, including a boy marked with a large splash of red paint.

[JMaytr]

A dwarf, who introduced himself as Lupo as the pair began their darts game, hands Rodrigue all of the flights.

"Good game, but if Horvath cannae be roused to pour ale, I'll be movin' past this outdoor frivolity and go to the Wharf Rat. The Kaen's mebbe thieves, but they'll have spirits flowin'." His heavy, stale breath smells as if he's never drank anything else. Lupo combs his black beard with his fingers and then slaps the crown of his bald head before leaving the Wench.

No other patrons lurk within the tavern, having all gone to join the buffet line.

[kintire]

Caitlin nods.

"No worries, Ezraa, I'll get it for you."

She heads back into the inn, giving the lone remaining customer a welcoming smile, before heading into the cooking area and fetching out a pile of the promised deep cut plates. She carries these to Ezraa with a cheery

"Remember, you break them, you bought them so walk careful!"

She then looks up at the maroon curtains and after the Dwarf. She pauses for a moment, uncertain, then heads up the stairs and raps on the door above.

"You awake master Magnae? Are we opening for drinks? They're serving the feast..."

[ewancummins]

AT THE INN OF 'MAMA CASS'

The woman watches as Walleran walks over. She sees his insignia pin and gives him a nod of acknowledgment as he speaks.

"Aye- a Roc's. Unfertilized. I trek into the Ninkini forest north of here every winter to procure one for the feast. No secret 'ere. Soldier, I see. You've got the stubble of a man no longer in service to the king. Hopefully, you left your duties honorably. I'm warden Saraa Rawell, commander of Lord Mayor Volaarae's guard. Come for the festival?"

''I hadn't even heard of the festival, Warden. I've come down from the Dunswolds. I'm called Walleran, marm. Retired most honorable from the guards of my lord, the Baron of the Dunswolds. Got no pressing duties now--daughters married off, and my son 'prenticed to a redsmith.I fancied I'd see a bit of the world beyond home, maybe sign on as a caravan guard or go looking for buried treasure."
He looks down again at the cooking egg.
"A rock's egg, huh? I'd have guessed a huge bird."
His expression, a slight smile and a squint, may not make it clear whether he's just made a pun or has indeed mistaken the woman's meaning.

[JMaytr]

As Caitlin climbs the stairs she notices a sweet smell, like flowers and baked sugar bread, as she gets closer to her employers' bedroom door. Rapping on the wood panel causes it to vibrate. A low hum creeps out before the door goes still.

Something on the floor catches her eye: ash. Then movement draws her gaze as a fly crawls out from under the door.

[kintire]

Caitlin looks puzzled for a moment and sniffs briefly, then eyes the fly. She mutters to herself.

"Snacking in bed?"

And knocks a little harder. If there is no reply she pauses again and glances down the stairs. But the festival is starting, the customers need ale: her boss is needed. She tries the door cautiously, calling out.

"Mr Horvath? Theyre starting!"

If the door opens she takes a quick glance inside