Birthright 3: The Worm's Supper , Chapter 2

[Brock Marsh Runoff]

SEARCHERS

Renn would just as likely have said "sod it" to the horses, but once Roald plunges in after them he has little choice. Blades in hand, he heads with Roald after the spooked mounts.

[ewancummins]

BLOOD IN THE SNOW

ROALD

Sir Roald sees the horses’ hindquarters ahead of him, vanishing into the blizzard.
He chases after the beasts with Sir Boarhort coming up on his left side. For a fat man, the hedge-knight can move when he must.
The high screams of horses and elves break above the noise of the wind.
A few seconds pass with only white snow and the indistinct shapes of trees and boulders in view ahead.
And then Roald smashes into an elf, knocking his enemy down flat. Before the knife-ear can rise up, Roald brings his sword down full on the elf’s skull. The savage slumps into the snow, motionless.
In another heartbeat, a pair of elves appear from the swirling snowfall and stab Roald with glass-tipped spears. His armor holds but he feels something shift inside from the shock of their strikes. He knocks their spear points aside with a broad sweep of his sword and steps past the foe on his right, bringing his blade back around for a strike with the other edge…

RENNAULT

The snow flurries grow thicker and thicker as Rennault runs behind the other men. He loses sight of the horses first, and then of his companions.
But he can hear the fight ahead; thuds, shrieks, wet crunches.
He sees a flash of green and white cloth just before him, long black hair in a topknot, a pointed ear.
Swinging his broadsword down, he craves a bloody rent in the elf’s back.
More elves come out of the blizzard…

---------------------------------------------



CORMAC

Covered from the worst of the wind in the shelter of tumbled stones, the druid kneels next to the fallen squire. He squeezes the juice from an enchanted berry into the boy’s mouth.
Reese cough, moans, and stirs a little.
Nevil crawls closer. ‘’Please, help me.” The injured huntsman holds one hand pressed firmly against his thigh where an arrow has pierced him. The broken shaft sticks up between two fingers.
Once Cormac has tended to Nevil, he snatches up his bow and arrows and looks for enemies.
Six elves burst into view, running over frosted boulders and gnarled pine roots without tripping or slowing. They come straight for Cormac and his friends, spears raised to strike overhand.
He stands and shoots at them, but the wind blowing in his face knocks his arrows off the mark.
As he drops down behind a boulder for cover, he hears one of the oncoming elves shouting ‘‘I see more of them!”


THE BARD OF THE SIELWODE

Having put away her violin and completed her incantations, the Bard sees a half dozen of the Manslayer’s fanatics bearing down on Cormac and the injured men.
Cormac shoots but the wind blowing from the heights down the lip of the pass fouls his fire.
One of the attackers looks past the humans to where the Bard stands. He shouts in Sidheilen language "I see more of them!”

[ewancummins]

ATLI'S OFFICE

ATLI



"If I knew that information, I would have already tried to sell it to you, Red."
He pushes his chair back and stands.
"But I can think of a couple people who might want to kill the Duke or spoil his wedding. Carillon Alam, for one. He is exiled to the mountains, cursed to fight goblins, the last anyone heard of him. Maybe dead now."
The dwarf paces, floorboards creaking under his weight.
"Or Carillon's son. Maybe he's changed his mind about his only living sister marrying his family's old enemy? Dwarves aren't the only people who holds grudges. But I don't know enough to yet about the factions here to offer more advice. Maybe foreign nobles?"

"Hmm, yes, that seems about right, Atli," comes the reply as she watches him pace. Standing herself, she does much of the same. Pacing helped her think.

Looking at him, she recounts her encounter at the Inn. Perhaps another insight into that afternoon might clear up what she thought.

After hearing what Dominica has to say, Atli sits down again.


''I don't know much about this fat nobleman. Except they say his county makes good beer. Good for humans stuff. Even the stouts here are a bit thin for my liking."
The dwarf scratches his chin, his blunt fingers thrusting through the wiry tangle of his beard.
''You said the girl told you this count's beer had spoiled? I heard the same about other brewers in the city. Maybe they are using rotted grain or dirty water."

[ewancummins]

Filbert

Filbert is a bit surprised that the boss isn't present but fingured that he might have other business to attend. He gets a chair and sits down near the cloaked man. He decides that he has to sound a little more tough than he used to. Tilting his head slightly to the barzier as he points it he says:

"You have a cosy atmosphere here pal. Any news for me or I should come back later?"

''No news yet."
The thin man in the tattered cloak crouches and extends his hand for Perry to clasp.
"I'm Milo."

[RocEter]

The Bard of the Sielwode

Stepping out of cover she and her images, move closer to Cormac bow ready to fire. "If this blizzard doesn't over take us, these Elves will. There is no shame in retreat..." She says, then fires a shot from her bow.

[RocEter]

[dice]0[/dice]

Attack roll.

+2 to hit.

Not sure of weather adjustments.

[steveflam]

ATLI'S OFFICE

ATLI



"If I knew that information, I would have already tried to sell it to you, Red."
He pushes his chair back and stands.
"But I can think of a couple people who might want to kill the Duke or spoil his wedding. Carillon Alam, for one. He is exiled to the mountains, cursed to fight goblins, the last anyone heard of him. Maybe dead now."
The dwarf paces, floorboards creaking under his weight.
"Or Carillon's son. Maybe he's changed his mind about his only living sister marrying his family's old enemy? Dwarves aren't the only people who holds grudges. But I don't know enough to yet about the factions here to offer more advice. Maybe foreign nobles?"

"Hmm, yes, that seems about right, Atli," comes the reply as she watches him pace. Standing herself, she does much of the same. Pacing helped her think.

Looking at him, she recounts her encounter at the Inn. Perhaps another insight into that afternoon might clear up what she thought.

After hearing what Dominica has to say, Atli sits down again.


''I don't know much about this fat nobleman. Except they say his county makes good beer. Good for humans stuff. Even the stouts here are a bit thin for my liking."
The dwarf scratches his chin, his blunt fingers thrusting through the wiry tangle of his beard.
''You said the girl told you this count's beer had spoiled? I heard the same about other brewers in the city. Maybe they are using rotted grain or dirty water."

"So, who would do this? I mean it is only brewers after all. Ale in itself is not something that could really affect the Duke, for his wedding or even to attack him."

She rubs the bridge of her nose, sighing inwardly. This really didn't appear like something that was an attempt on the Duke's life. Nice to check things out, but this
appeared to be a dead end.


"Atli, It appears that this might be just that, someone trying to ruin the ale trade. I am looking for more than that, an attempt on his grace's life itself or a culprit trying to ruin the ducal wedding."

[VAN]

Filbert

"I see, well no problem."

He shakes Milo's hand.

"I'm Perry. Do you like it here Milo? I mean with the group. The boss does't talk much right? What's his name?"

[ewancummins]

FILBERT

BACKROOM OF THE THREE PENNY

Filbert

"I see, well no problem."

He shakes Milo's hand.

"I'm Perry. Do you like it here Milo? I mean with the group. The boss does't talk much right? What's his name?"

''Terem, his name is Terem."

Milo sits down at the makeshift table.

"I like it alright. I'd like it more if we were all seeing more profit. As it stands, we do a job and then Terem takes his cut, the Watch takes its cut, the Crone takes her cut for letting us stay here, and the rest of us get what's left. Which isn't usually much."

[ewancummins]

CORMAC AND THE BARD

The Bard of the Sielwode

Stepping out of cover she and her images, move closer to Cormac bow ready to fire. "If this blizzard doesn't over take us, these Elves will. There is no shame in retreat..." She says, then fires a shot from her bow.

The elves are almost upon the little group when the Bard fires. Her arrow strikes on in the right shoulder. He stumbles, screaming

And then neither she nor Cormac have any further opportunities for archery; the zealots swarm their position, attacking with spears. But the shifting, blurred images the Bard has conjured do their part, taking hits and then blinking out.

Cormac chops down an elf with his hatchet. Blood sprays on the snow and the elf gives up its spirit with a rattling groan.
An elf's outthrust spear tip grazes Cormac's cheek-- but the wielder falls a second later, stabbed in the back by Nevil. The pale, bloody man steps over the fallen elf and moves up to strike at the nearest standing foe.

The remaining elves focus their rage on the Bard and her duplicate images, screaming ''Traitor bitch! Impure one!"The elves strike out all the false images and one of them grazes the Bard with his bronze sword.
But Cormac and Nevil rush to aid the embattled minstrel and fighting together, the three of them push the elves back. Nevil parries a bronze blade and then slashes an elf across the belly with his poniard. Cormac ducks under a thrusting spearhead, drives his shoulder into an elf's chest, and knocks the elf to the snow. Before his enemy can get up, the druid brains him with a savage downward hatchet stroke.


The last one turns to flee, but the Bard steps out into a long lunge, sliding her rapier point between his ribs in the back. Steel grates on bone and the elf's body goes slack.

Nevil falls down, panting.

Reese crawls closer to the others.

Cormac and the Bard stand victorious, enemies dead or dying all around them. The storm wind blows blinding sheets of snow over their position, and carries with it the distant thunder of hooves, screams, and the clash of arms.

[ewancummins]

RENNAULT, ROALD, AND BOARHORT


The three battle their way through a tangle of elves, leaving dead and gravely wounded foes in their wake.

Up ahead , a light flares in the falling snow. A few more paces and the men see the source: an elf waving a torch. The knife-ear shrieks what sounds like a call for help.

Roald breaks into a run, headed for the elf making the fire signal. The others must stay close by him or they'll lose sight of him in the rising blizzard.


As Roald gets near his target, the torch-elf jumps back.

Knife-ears lurch out of the snow on either side. The elves clamber all over the three men, grabbing at Roald's sword arm, tugging on Boarhort's shield rim, kicking Rennault in the shins.

Roald goes down under a knot of foes, kicking and cursing as one wraps a cloak around his sword blade, fouling it.

Boarhort smashes his shield into the face of the elf trying to tear it from him. That elf staggers back, blood pouring from his mashed nose and lips, tripping over his comrades coming up behind him.


Renn fights off the sudden rush of a pair of elves, beating them back with sword and long knife, Twice he nearly drops his weapons--his fingers are getting stiff from the cold..


And the elf with the torch keeps waving the fire over his head, screaming for more of his comrades to join him...

[Varrus the Ethical]

Roald struggles against his attackers, trying to pull his sword free to kill more elves.

"I'll kill every one of you pointy-eared bastards!" He shouts into the blizzard.

[ewancummins]

Roald struggles against his attackers, trying to pull his sword free to kill more elves.

"I'll kill every one of you pointy-eared bastards!" He shouts into the blizzard.

He can hardly hear himself over the screaming wind.

The storm grows worse even as the elves beat him against the ground and grab at his sword hilt.
The wind picks up, blowing so hard it almost knocks an elf off Roald.

[Adam]

Cormac stands panting over the dead elves, looking to the bard and the wounded men.

"If ye' can fight, follow me," he points towards the sounds of combat, "If not, hunker down here so we can find ye when we're leaving."

Without another word, he grimly hefts his hatchet and stalks towards the sound of combat, murder in his eyes.

[VAN]

Filbert, the back room of Three Penny

"That's too bad indeed. But you said the Watch gets a cut? Why? Does Terem have any men there to help you out in case something goes wrong? Anyway bigger job means bigger cut for all. I would try something big if I were you especially if Terem has friends in the Watch."