First Few Steps

Osric Silkhand





Osric frowns at the at the growing noise, hand paranoically on the iron dagger. He speaks as loud as he dares; just enough to carry to the company.


"Away from that side," he points, "and hands on your weapons."
 
Abram


After being awakened by the sounds of movement, Abram had begun to listen to his surroundings as he readied his gear. Unfortunately the strangeness of the woods seemed to absorb any sound and reflect it from every trunk, twig and leaf, greatly confusing Abram's senses. Thankfully there were others in the company that seemed to fare better in their search, Sam in particular showing a disturbed look in a singular direction past the barricade.


Abram heard Osric's command and immediately thought back to his training. If yer bein' charged, get outta the way if you can. If not, set yerself firm and ready. Let their force slide past yer hide like water off a duck.


His straps were secured, helmet donned, and the long poleax was firmly in his grasp. Abram walked forward to the front of the group, giving himself as much distance from the iron hedge as he could while mainting the point of their formation. He planted his feet firmly in the ground and outstretched his poleax, relaxed but steady. Abram was ready to redirect whatever force came out of the woods, or if need be plant his poleax in the ground and skewer the thing with it's own momentum.


A passing thought of a boar hunt came to mind, and in spite of himself Abram let out a small chuckle at the irony.
 
Sam


As everyone scurries and whispers frantically, the young man finally and inexplicably calmly gets to his feet, the only one currently not scrambling for a weapon.


"I smell a something, that is like people," he peers into the darkness where he caught the scent, "Someone not washing many. Like street beggar,"


His nose might be keen, but his eyes were proving more than useless.


"Have light?" he motions to the group, for flint, tinder, anything to tie to the shaft of an arrow, "I shoot high? In tree? Lighting under?"


There was no way anyone was leaving the path afterall, and if we could all hear the oncoming threat, it was pretty certain they could hear them in turn. No use in hiding anymore if they were onto them. Might as well best to see what they were up against.
 
Adelaide Auerstedt


With confirmation of something moving among the shadows, and as far as she could fell, the one one side of the road, Adelaide raised herself from the warm bedding. We are standing ready; at least we are capable of rousing and not put to endless slumber from some foul Fae dust. Drawing her rapier, Auerstedt stood ready alongside the troupe, tensing in preparation for whatever may come from the darkness enveloped woods and passing some kindling to Sam. "You might as well illuminate our unsolicited guest."
 
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Sam


He takes the kindling from "Ade" - his inability to vocalize her eloquent name has resulted in this abbreviation, much to his apologies - and thanks her, removing an arrow from his quiver and setting it to string.


"Yes...?" he looks to and asks the group in permission for his actions.


Even now old habits died hard.
 
Adelaide Auerstedt


"Ade," how quaint. Even in these desperate moments they try to be polite. If we survive this I'll have to let them know that Ada is fine for them to use. Not so much the others, they haven't made the same effort regarding etiquette, nor have the same language barrier. Huh. I guess you can take the woman out of Kelene, but not the Kelene out of her so easily...
 
Sam


Nodding, he ties the kindling to his arrow, sets it alight, and lets it fly, high and far overhead as he could manage amongst the treeline, hoping to at least hit a tree branch to steady the light, brief as it may be.


They already know we're here, this won't make much of difference. I hope.


He peers into the darkness curiously, nose following the scent.


You out there, friend? Say hello.
 
The lighted taper gnaws feebly at the edges of the gloom as it sails through the air, hitting a tree with a solid thunk. A man cries out, and with the timid illumination, his form is revealed, bumbling through the underbrush.


He's naked and fearful looking, hands and feet filthy, and bearing countless bumps and scrapes.


Squinting carefully past his raised arms, he stammers out a reply.


"P-please! Don't hurt me!"
 
Abram


Abram couldn't help but cock his head to the side at the strange sight. A lone man, naked and marked after running through the foliage, had staggered out of the woods into their sights. There could be any number of reasons why he had shown up here and now, but the fact that they were the only souls using the trail that he knew of didn't sit well with Abram. So Abram kept his poleax ready as before, taking a step forward to deny this man room to maneuver if he chose to do something stupid.


However Abram said nothing as he stood there, fully armed and ready to defend. He figured the 'big scary guard' would be a good mask for now, give Osric or Adelaide some leeway while they do the talking.
 
Osric Silkhand





Osric narrows his eyes and watches the man's every motion. He draws the iron blade and uses it to point at one of the stakes alongside the road.


"Touch the iron." He says, voice hard.


There's no taking chances, in this place.
 
Lyke


Standing beside Abram, Lyke kept up her guard. She wasn't inclined to take this fellow in even if he was just some fool wandering about in the nude.


Her eyes wander about his cuts, scrapes and bumps. Each one could be ripe with plague or some Fae disease. She wished she'd drawn her bow instead. All their problems solved by an arrow to this strangers heart.


Lyke readjusts her stance, keeping inside Abrams guard and keeping a good deal of focus on the woods.
 
Ealhstan held the phial of iron filings out towards the man, bung removed, as though trying to ward him away even as he leaned on his crutch at Lyke's other side. He threw a sidelong glance at Osric.


"Good precaution," he said, "Just remember that even if this man is truly human, he may still be under a Fay enchantment. Best be careful."


Ealhstan studied the man carefully. The Fay were not his area of expertise, but he had read and heard a few things about them. He hoped enough to identify any trace of fairy that might linger on the man.
 
Adelaide Auerstedt


It came as something of a surprise, to see the skinny frame of a man emerge from the shadows. The hairy form of their physique disturbed Adelaide, their messy long hair a mockery of her own, and her past. At best, they were victim to a Fae attack and escaped, at worst, they are the product of said Fae attack. Disgusting. Her blue eyes traced along their body, comparing memory and sensation. Are you a man, is there... "Art", at work here?
 
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Shakily, the man nods, licking his lips as he slowly shambles to the path. One quivering hand curls around an iron stake, and he looks up with a worried smile.


"S-see!?" he squeaks, jerking to his feet. "I did it! Now please, let me in!"
 
Lyke


The tip of her sword sways and shifts over towards the man. She gulps down her spit audibly and raises her free hand up to her throat and gestures across her neck.


She points, shaking her head in a negatory fashion. He wasn't worth keeping around or even worth keeping alive. Even if the iron didn't bother him. He was worth more dead than alive.


Lykes eyes darken and tighten. She wanted out of these woods alive and he was a threat to it. Lyke waits for the affirmation, sword lining up with his neck.
 
Adelaide Auerstedt


Moving closer to Osric, she leans in, whispering without taking her eyes off the man. "We can't leave him here. Give him mercy; either out of his misery or tie him up and throw him into the caravan. We could let him out after Gatewood and have him repay a debt of honour to us; having him join out of loyalty could make for a useful recruiter in the future, assuming he in not some trick against us." A quick death from Lyke is probably better than whatever the Fae would do to him if we leave him wander out here, assuming he hasn't already been hexed.
 
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Sam


He rolls his dark eyes as swords are drawn and harsh plans whispered, "Rudes!"


His bow is now sheathed. No retrieving the leased arrow now afterall. It's over there.


He decides, instead, to address the poor bedraggled man himself, "Friend? Why lost? Please, story,"
 
Lyke


She pulls the sword back a bit, grim look remaining on her face. There wasn't sense to this but if they wanted to spare him she wasn't about to go upset the apple cart.


Her finger goes out again, pointing at him before miming eating. She points at herself, mimes eating again and shakes her head. He was going to take up supplies and she wasn't giving her share up.


She waits till *Marmalade* is done speaking before signing again. She points at the caravan, twisting an imaginary rope around her body.
 
Abram


Abram's eyes focused on the man after he touched the iron spike, looking him over once again as he approached. There was no way to know what had happened to him to put him in this state, but Abram had seen the look in this man's eyes before. He saw it on the battlefield sometimes, particularly with younger adversaries that hadn't experienced conflict yet. This was a look of abject fear, and the trail of urine running down the man's leg was just the sweaty icing on that fact.


He made no move to look less intimidating, even going so far as to keep his eyes locked on the man as he stood shaking in his skin. But Abram barked over his shoulder towards where he thought Osric had situated himself amongst the others. "Osric, can't say I know this man's story. But 'e's right scared for 'is skin, that much is clear." He cocked his head slightly before he continued. "Makes sense, seein' as that's all 'e has to 'is name right now."


Abram noticed some kind of pantomime off to his left where Lyke stood, and his best guess at interpreting it was something about rope or restraints. Abram could get behind that idea, at least until they were clear of the woods. "If we restrain 'im in the cart we can deal with 'im after we're past this damned wood."
 
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Osric Silkhand





Osric nods at Adelaide's counsel, that of the other mercenaries. Annoying - to seem as if he has bowed to pressure.


"Aye," he says aloud. "Come closer, tell us your name and your story, friend. We might yet take you back in bonds, but you understand..." He allows the thought to hang, and waits for the man to react.
 
Bavric Ulricsson





This newcomer was not welcome, though Bavric held his tongue on the matter. it was not the man himself that Bavric despised, but what he could possibly be influenced by, those malicious fiends known as Fae. His fear began to well up in his throat, he swallowed hard in an attempt to rid himself of the growing lump of unease that had taken nest there. All the tales of his village had pointed to Fae as beings of ill-intent, and rightfully so, and many a wandering hunter had been lost due to their trickeries. Yet, here was different, the others seemed to be more open to assisting this man, and they had yet to stray from the marked path, as long as there was no immediate threat to them, the man could stay, as long as it was far away from Bavric, at least. Still, he did not ease his suspicions, and kept a constant eye on the darkened wood around them, his large, weathered hand never straying from the comfort of the smooth-wooded handle of his stout axe.
 
The man starts to move forward with a relieved smile, but stops abruptly, a clear look of deep set suspicion slowly twisting his features. Instead, he takes a step back, eyes frantically flicking between all of those assembled.


"...first, one of you touch the stakes," he says suddenly, chewing his bottom lip, hastily adding. "And- and recite the Venic Blessing,"
 
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Abram


A heavy sigh came from Abram's lungs as he saw the man recoil and start looking at their group accusingly. Truth be told Abram couldn't blame him, rumors hung thick over this wood like a stormcloud. But frankly, Abram wasn't in the mood for more silly back and forth with an unknown quantity. So, of his own initiative, Abram began to advance towards the newcomer, his poleax still leveled at his chest. He strode with purpose, but not so fast as to be considered 'charging' towards the man.


When he reached the barricade Abram stood at least a head taller than the naked man, and glared down at him menacingly. Then, very casually, he released his left hand from the handle of his poleax, but kept the weapon firmly grasped in his right. He wedged his left gauntlet into his right armpit, then tugged his hand free of the armored glove. Without any pomp or ceremony Abram gripped the iron bar, then stared pointedly at the man before he spoke in a deep, menacing tone. "...Now are ye gonna come quietly, or am I gonna 'ave to scruff ye?"
 
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Lyke


The only effort given to appease the man is a pair of harsh throaty barks.


Still wary of anything else approaching, Lyke starts edging down the path towards the wagon to fetch some rope.


She does give a quick few gestures she picked up from the patrons of her mothers whorehouse, demonstrating her utter and complete support of the situation.
 
Adelaide Auerstedt


"Do you really think the spirits here would need conjure an entire caravan of people in order to ensnare you, when you have already crossed over the cold iron?" Adelaide states matter-of-factly to the man. "Are you going to tell us how you ended up in this sorry state... or would you rather return to you pilgrim ways?" Realising that she was the least hostile towards the stranger, Adelaide decided to play along and try to coax the man to come calmly, for all their sakes, gesturing with an open hand, while the other clenched the long knife behind her. Disgusting... Though he may be of use...
 
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