First Few Steps

The man looks warily at the lot of you, before throwing a worried glare over his shoulder.


"I..." he runs his tongue over cracked lips, staring up at Abram's glowering face. "I am Darius Harriden, servant to House Van Forze. I was... stupid. I let myself be led from the path while delivering a message to the motherland, and..."


He went quiet for a moment, swallowing loudly. "I have been fleeing... them... for weeks, perhaps months now, eating what I could, where I could find it. Even my boots,"


There was a shrill bark of nervous laughter, more pained than in humor. "Even my goddamned boots,"


Scrawny arms are extended to the man before him, holding stick like forearms together.
 
Adelaide Auerstedt


"A lesson learned." With approval from Osric, she escorts the man towards Lyke and the waiting rope, keeping guard as he bound. "We may be able to provide you something only slightly more chew-able than boot leather, but it'll keep you alive." Once secured in the back of the caravan, two pillar ties on his hands and feet by Lyke, she hands him a little of the jerky. "Now, we can forgo a gag, provided we don't hear from you again, unless its' important."
 
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Lyke


Speaking of gag, Lyke's eyes go down to one of her pockets, a makeshift gag of old fabric tied into a ball sticking out slightly. With a slight wiggle of her body it falls down into the pouch, out of sight. Without waiting, she wraps up his hands and feet. Still unhappy with the arrangement she ties one more knot around the man's body and to the frame of the caravan. Once Adelaide moves off, Lyke tosses the gag in back as well. She makes eye contact and stitches her fingers across her lips in a warning to be silent before going back to keep watch with the others.
 
Abram


Abram watched Adelaide take their new traveling companion over to the caravan, where Lyke was waiting with the restraints. Once he was sure this Darius character was properly restrained he turned his attention back towards the woods, glancing into the dark. Darius had seen fit to wake them at a very late hour, and with all the commotion they had caused Abram doubted he'd be able to detect anything else until matters settled down some.


He began to walk backwards from the iron spikes, taking slow steps as he considered the leafy horizon. Once he figured he was far enough away he turned around and adressed those within earshot. "May be wise to double our watches 'till we're out of these woods."
 
Sam


He shakes his head sullenly at the goings on.


"Such unhappy" he mutters, before approaching our little resident Crone, "Have heart? Give blanket? Until of finding clothes?"


He gestures to the chill of the gloom around them.


I certainly hope the group's paranoia is unfounded. But... just in case...


He pricks his senses to beyond the stake fence again, nose held high, ear straining. If the God'Kin where following, then it would be like moths to a flame...

Rolling Intuition (3 +1 Dognose) and awareness (3) again... just to be sure nothings followed him.


[dice]16165[/dice]
 
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Osric Silkhand


"Aye, give the poor man something to wrap himself." Said Osric. It's funny, the things that keep a man from becoming a beast. Clothes are among them.


He nodded to Abram, and peered around the trees. "Doubled watches. It won't be for much longer, and perhaps we can camp on the far side."


And interrogate our captive - what in the blue fuck would Videme want all the way out here?
 
Adelaide Auerstedt


Coming back from caravan, Adelaide pauses along Osric. "Our "guest" has been secured and knows not to bother us without reason." Speaking softly and leaning in slightly, she continues. "And what a curious guest of Videme to find out in these parts." Afterwards, while walking away she announces that she'll join in with the next watch.
 
The crone clambers out of the caravan, wrapped in leathers much as she always is, but bereft of hat.


"Ah, Daegra Veen, wha' cha doin' pullin' naked bastard's outta th' woods fer?" she exclaims loudly, looking the new arrival up and down in aggravation.


Grumbling all the while, she disappears back inside and emerges moments later with a blanket in hand, draping it over the man.


"Leas' tha' solves th' naked part, bu' if he explodes, or turns into rats, or some o'er shite like tha', tha's all on yer heads," groans the old woman, limping back into the caravan. "Yer heads, no' mine,"

Would any further actions like to be taken, or do you guys just wanna continue with the journey? Answer in the OOC thread please.
 
The rest of the night passes in silence, save for the odd, pained mumble from your slumbering captive. But still, none of you can shake the uncomfortable, prickling sensation of being watched.


Sleep is some time in coming.


Morning is muted. Darius says little, only throwing fearful glances to the woods, remaining within the caravan. The crone finds the man a pair of breeches and a shirt, which he accepts gratefully.


Travel is slow, and the horses are skittish.


It is midday when you see them. A few at first, subtly visible at the corner of the eye. More appear, hidden amongst the trees. As time passes, their number increases. By the time you're all aware of them, there are dozens out in the woods around. Standing. Staring. Silent.


Their heads are white, birdlike skulls, soundlessly glaring with black hollow eyes. Long dark robes hide whatever bodies they possess, fluttering unheard despite the absence of even the meanest breeze.


None move from where they stand. Were it not for the fact that their heads slowly swivel to keep their gaze upon your convoy, you might have assumed they were garish totems of some heathen god.


The crowd peters off as the exit draws ever closer, down to a reappearing solitary figure, identical to all others before it.


And then, finally, you are out.


The sun shines brightly, almost painfully, despite cresting the horizon. The air tastes crisp with the scent of newly fallen rain. The horses whinny and nicker for the first time in days, and even the crone begins to speak up once more.
 
Abram


Abram's eyes had never strayed from those faces in the dark. The moment he saw them he'd been on alert, and had not dropped his guard until the woods began to thin and their goal was in sight. Abram feared an abush was at hand when a small army of the things had begun to line the path, staring silently as the caravan passed by. But as their numbers waned so did his fears, yet his senses remained sharp all the same. It wasn't until their numbers had dwindled to one that Abram found himself curious. This one figure seemed intent on following their movements until the very end, a silent sentinel of the lush darkness. Was this the being that had been hunting Darius as he had said? Were the many figures in the dark before simply tricks of the eye? Had this one watcher made himself appear as many? Was this being intent on hunting Darius indefinitely, but could not cross the iron? Was it perhaps ensuring the caravan left their woods in peace, taking a troublesome wanderer away from their sacred woods? Or was this watcher simply witnessing them as some sort of spectacle? A meager parade, strange and exotic to the eyes of a tree dweller such as this being?


Whatever the case, the end was in sight and the caravan left the woods without further incident. Abram kept his eyes trained behind the caravan, trailing near the rear to put a barrier between the woods and the rest of the party. It wasn't until Abram could no longer see the white bird skull that he took a deep breath of fresh air and relaxed his guard. All things considered, Abram hoped he wouldn't have to make that journey again. He'd take flesh and blood over shades and specters any day.


Abram urged Athos forward to catch up with the other riders. He rode up alongside the mute, who's name he was still unsure of. She was loathe to talk, and Abram couldn't blame her given her situation. But so far he hadn't needed to know her name to speak civily with her. When he caught up he cracked his neck to relieve some of the stress from looking backwards for so long. He exhaled slowly before turning his head and addressing the woman (@Teh Frixz) in a casual tone. "Glad that's over."
 
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Lyke


The horse that she had found that night so long after the battle hadn't been hers. That much was obvious. The beast projected a presence of nobility and bearing that contrasted the hardlined Lyke. Even through the Forest, one could have argued that the horse handled it with more grace than the bandit on his back but coming out of that horrid place, there was a little bond growing. Lyke enjoyed the confidence the horse projected, his attitude with the other horses in the Caravan and just the general demeanor.


Lyke wasn't sentimental but just as they left the woods a name came to her, Brutus. It made her smile just a bit.


Brutus opened up a little bit, speeding up after hitting the fresh air, taking a better pace. Only a few minutes had passed before Soldier came riding up beside her saying something obvious that everyone was feeling.


Lyke points at herself then back and him and nods. She felt the same way. Then she points at her eyes, then at his eyes then down the road. She'd always enjoyed hitting caravans right outside some sort of natural hazard, every would have their defenses down. Eyes on the road Soldier.


@KamiKahzy
 
Abram


The corner of Abram's mouth turned up when he saw that the woman seemed to bear the same sentiment as him. In truth he figured that everyone in their company felt the same way right now. But it was her next action that forced a deep barking chuckle from Abram's lungs. He had to agree, staying vigilant now would be a wise idea. But the thought of this lithe woman giving him orders was surprisingly funny, and coupled with his sudden sense of ease Abram couldn't help but play into the fantasy. He brought his right hand up and gave her as staunch a salute as he would any officer. "Aye aye ma'am," he stated with an easy smile playing on his face. He then urged Athos forward so he was closer to the caravan, as that was the most obvious target out of their group.


Abram kept his eyes peeled for trouble as he'd been 'instructed', but every so often he would look towards the caravan where Darius now sat. Abram wondered just what would happen with him now that they had left the woods. Hopefully some answers would be forthcoming once the company made camp tonight.


@Teh Frixz


@Silvertongued
 
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Adelaide Auerstedt


Tilting her head slight, glancing from beneath her red hair, Adelaide catches the little exchange. Turning to face forwards, still wary of threat that may be waiting outside of the woods, Auerstedt catches herself enjoying a wry grin. At least he has a sense of humour. A black sheep compared to his kind. Good to know.
 
Osric Silkhand





Osric sheathes the iron blade again once they're a half-mile down the road from the wood. Casts a weary and suspicious eye over his band. We were lucky to emerge in daylight, he thinks. There was every chance the Gatewood would release them in the dead of night.


"We make camp at the next crossroads," he announces. "Have a talk without passenger and prepare for the next leg."
 
Sam


He had stared at their new bird-like visitors with rapt fascination. A part of him even wanted to wave and talk to them out of sheer curious interest, but he was a wiser man than that.


The sheer paranoia of his team mates was starting to wear him thin. It was getting old now.


Emerging into the open and the light and fresh air made him as giddy as Blue beneath him as she whickered and gracelessly toddled about in the warmth.


"Hello, Sun!" he greets the newly returned sky orb with glee, "We missing you!"
 
It's another two hours ride to the nearest crossroads, and even then, the nearest village is still another few days away. By the time you arrive, the sun is a glowing half circle embedded in the far off hills, sinking deeper as you watch. The camping site is nothing but flatland, bereft of any sort of cover but the single sign post pointing back to the Gatewood, New Hope, Crowhaven, and Strassenburg.


Darius seems to relax a good deal more the further you move from the forest, though he seems to figet that much more as it begins to grow dark, asking the crone to light a torch or lantern before it fully falls.


He's spoken a little about himself, repeating that he's a messenger for House Van Forze, and has been sent through back from the frontier to speak with the Kingdom officials. He's been close mouthed about what his actual message is, and is still relatively quiet, as if he's still not entirely sure that you're real.
 
Lyke


It didn't take long for Lyke to dismount and start setting up her things for the night. The riding had been hard and the road even harder so the bandit wanted nothing more than to get out of the saddle and into a sleeping roll. Her things, much like her gear, were a collection of scrounged, stolen, and scrapped together items that functioned comfortably enough. After settling her horse in, she unravels her things, starting with a worn cloth tent.


It doesn't take long to stake it down, a good chunk of her time taken up by staring at the Van Forze guy with suspicion. She didn't like how much freedom he had, she didn't like him tagging along and she didn't like knowing that he ran around that long in the forest without perishing. Something wasn't right with him and Lyke wanted little to do with it except maybe tuning in his head to some sort of authority figure for a reward.


The last stake is driven in, Lyke taking off some of her heavier gear to lay down just inside it with her lower half sticking out.
 
Abram


Abram made sure the first thing he did was to take care of Athos' needs. The destrier was the closest thing he had to family out here, and the steed had stood by him loyally in more battles than he could count. Abram walked Athos to where the horses were being gathered, gave him water and then put on his feedbag. The warhorse nickered tiredly as Abram patted his flank in appreciation.


With Athos seen to, Abram grabbed his poleaxe and slung it over his shoulder as he walked casually back towards the others where a fire was being made. Unfortunately due to the chaos of the last battle Abram hadn't had time to collect his rucksack, so he was without a bedroll, blanket, or even his razor. He had borrowed some spare cloths from the caravan to make due, and truth be told they had been slightly comfier than the racks he'd been provided during his training. However, as he made his way to the old crone's caravan to ask for his bedding he couldn't help but stop a moment and watch the mute woman disappear into her tent. Normally this would be a normal event, completely mundane and unworthy of note, but the fact of the matter was that she had a very shapely posterior and it was currently on display with very little opportunity for her to catch him looking.


Abram stood and considered that posterior, raising an eyebrow as he appraised its shape and build. There was no lecherous look in his eye or wanton licking of lips, he was simply admiring something for what it was. And after a few moments he'd had his fill of the view, and continued on to the caravan to ask the old woman for his bedding.


@Teh Frixz
 
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Lyke


While growing up in the store rooms behind the whorehouses of her birth city, there had been many harsh lessons learned and adages forced. One that had recently gotten brought back up from the recesses of her mind was 'you've got two ears and one tongue so listen twice as much as your talk'. Then usually a good slap across the face from whatever woman was on child watch that day.


It made Lyke bury her head in a little deeper into the collection of cloth serving as both pillows and blanket. Opening her mouth for the cloth to enter, soaking the fabric while she bit down. It was a comfort thing, much like biting nails, it helped her unwind.


The trip through the woods had stirred up old memories like someone blowing dust off a missused wardrobe directly into her face.


Spitting out the cloth, Lyke rouses herself up. Not one to dwell in the past, she pulls in the rest of her limbs, rolling around to pull back on her gear and saunter out of the little pup tent.


The group was in various stages of setting up, Lyke surprised at how long they were taking but traveling through that place really did take it out of them.


Abram hadn't even gotten his bedding setup yet. Lyke snapping her fingers at him before pointing at his horse and gesturing in a way to imply if he'd be sleeping under Athos.


@KamiKahzy
 
Osric Silkhand





As the rest of the company assembles the campsite at the crossroads, Osric leans against the back of the wagon to speak quietly with Darius.


"I want to an explanation," he says, arms folded, back to the stranger, head turned just enough to betray his attention. "Everything you can tell me."


He idly taps the pommel of his sword.


"And perhaps some that you can't."
 
Abram


Abram was only mildly confused when he started to hear snapping sounds behind him as the old crone handed him his blankets. He turned around to see the mute standing before him, looking at him quizzically. He cocked his head to the side slightly in confusion, then watched as she began to communicate in her favored pantomime style. It took him two tries before he figured out she was asking where he was sleeping, and then smirked when she suggested he'd use Athos as his shelter. He shook his head once before answering. "Not likely, Athos makes a poor bunk mate." Abram leaned in closer so that he could whisper conspiratorially in the woman's ear. "'E kicks when 'e dreams, nearly broke my arm once."


Abram leaned back with a slight smile on his face before he gestured to where the fire was being built near the caravan. "I'll find a spot near the fire, stay near my gear in case we're attacked."


@Teh Frixz
 
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  • The Crone starts the beginnings of a campfire, putting up the beginnings of the evenings meal. It seems that cured meat is going to be the main part in a stew, with an accompaniment of increasingly stale bread.


    Beats the slightly less stale bread and cheese you've had to partake of in the last few days, for the lack of a fire.


    "'f you two kin stop playin' grab arse, I'd 'preciate it 'f ye could get me ou' me things fer makin' dinner," she yells to Lyke and Abram.


 
Osric Silkhand





Osric steps in front of the man, hand ready to draw, glaring him down.


"Do you think me some credulous fool? Van Forze was put to the sword for heresy a generation ago."
 
Darius stands up, his own eyes blazing with anger.


"I care not if you are my savior Sir, but I will not abandon my mission,"


"Regardless, if you are some House spy, or another vision of that hellish forest, I had assumed to hear a better lie than that," he sneered.
 
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Osric Silkhand





"The fair folk have addled your mind, Darius," Osric says, shaking his head. "Either they've filled your head with falsehoods, or... you have been trapped in their realm for a very long time."
 
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