First Few Steps

At this, Darius narrowed his eyes.


"...I am in full possession of my wits. Scarred and scared perhaps, but I remain as mentally able as I was when I entered the wood," he said slowly.
 
There's a pained minute of staring at you, Darius still wearing that suspicious stare.


"...no," he said finally, shaking his head. "No, I don't believe you. You're obviously not real. I'm still in that goddamned forest,"


The man continues shaking his head, glaring past you, as if addressing someone else.


"You will not break me monsters! Your visions are insidious, but I am stronger!" snarls the messenger. "You may hound me and taunt me, show me these cruel mockeries, but my spirit is of the stone of Daegra Veen,"
 
Osric Silkhand





Downcast, Osric turns away to assist in setting up camp.


"You need not believe me. The first town we reach will be proof enough. The first priest, even."
 
"I will not break," repeats Darius solemnly after you. "I won't!"


The Crone looks you askance as you approach.


"Tha' boy don' soun' too happy," she remarked casually, handing a hang of meat at you. "'ere, cut this up,"
 
Abram


Abram cocked a brow and turned towards the old crone as she hollered at himself and the mute in frustration. He admitted she had a point, but couldn't help but let out a low chuckle as he shook his head at the irony. He looked at the mute and shrugged slightly before setting his blankets and his poleaxe against the caravan side. He then hopped inside, casting a curious look at their angry captive as he sifted through the meager belongings for the cooking kettle the crone had requested.


@Silvertongued
 
Lyke


Having just come up with a comeback for Abram, Lyke with no little resentment began crashing around the cart, retrieving a few rough metal bowls for the caravan to eat from.


Though her contact with the crone had been cordial for the most part, Lyke gave her a closed fist with her thumb poking out through her fingers.


Meandering over from person to person, Lyke tosses a bowl to each, thumbing over to fire.
 
Adelaide Auerstedt


Having braced herself against the side of the cart, eavesdropping in on the conversation between Darius and Osric. She sighs after Osric leaves, as he is returning to the burgeoning campfire, and rounds the corner to face Darius. "The others wanted to gut you, thinking your are a foul emissary of the Fae, however I think it is rather that case that they cruelly made you a plaything of their's for some time. Whether you can fulfill that writ remains to be seen. Regardless, we'll get you safely to the nearest town. We may not appear it, but there is honour among a few of us still. You'll be feed later, as well"


Joining the others, as camp is set up, she takes in stock of the menagerie she has found herself amongst. Adelaide graciously accepts the bowl from Lyke. Abram's could do with a shave. Might have to help him with that... Adelaide runs her hand across her chin, having long learnt to maintain her regime whilst on horseback.
 
Sam


"Please of no fighting, friends..." he had offered, though his words were drowned out in the heated debate.


Anger and raised voices made him shrink, and suddenly a shadow of his former self showed up, quietly taking a bowl from Lyke with a bowed head and meek nod, watching their new member and the Sir verbally duke it out.


He sat nearby, huddled to the fire, watching like a paranoid cat.
 
"Aye, bu's bigger th'n yers, guttersnipe," snapped the crone coolly in Lyte's direction, continuing to stir the stew pot with a sneer.


Darius remains quiet despite repeated attempts to address him, though he eats ravenously.


The night soon descends proper, and for the first time in three days, you see starlight. Two of the three moons hang in the sky, a pair of crescents cutting through the darkness. It is chill, but welcome, so much different from the stifled mugginess within the forest.
 
Abram


Abram sat near the fire, letting the flames and warm stew stave off the impending chill. He was oddly content considering what they had just endured, then again a warm meal on the road is more than enough comfort for most travelers. He patted his stomach once, listening to his breastplate chime against his calloused hand. Abram looked up to the sky and took in the stars for the first time in days. Regardless of how many days he had seen them, they never failed to impress the young hedge knight. A canvas of light and wonder he could never comprehend, but could still appreciate in his own way.


Abram then looked around at those gathered around the fire and his eyes strayed towards the mute woman once again. He saw her glaring murderously at the old woman, understandably so as they had been bickering in their own way throughout the entire journey. He smirked slightly at their antics, wondering for a moment if they'd ever come to tolerate one another.


As he thought about this Abram became lost in thought over the mute. A thought had hit him and it refused to leave his mind until something was done. And Abram, being a man of action, decided to do something about it. He hauled himself up from his spot walked over to where Lyke sat by the fire before setting himself down next to her with a soft 'thud'.


Abram decided to get right to the point. "I never learned your name before."


@Teh Frixz
 
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Lyke


Bowl in hand and without a good nonverbal comeback, Lyke takes her food out of sight of the wizzened quartermaster but the chill quickly became too much as she slowly migrated beside the fire.


Lyke truly did enjoy being social with people. Having them around, joking, japing, all sorts of fun was to be had with other people but as her but as the others in the Caravan knew, she usually ate alone.


Having no tongue, the procedure for food was a messy one that didn't lend itself to company. The hot bowl had to be set down while she fished out cool parts to put in her mouth. After setting it in, a finger was used to position any lumps by her teeth. After that, she had to push the mush to her throat.


It worked but it wasn't pleasant to look at or even listen too. For most the meal, Lyke made sure to hunker down and not look at anyone else. With the lumps gone, she sucked down the rest of the broth, wiping her face and setting the bowl aside.


Taking a moment before getting ready for a nap, Lyke leans back only to be greeted with a thwump next to her. Abram once again. She gives a little look of questioning intent before he spoke, asking her name.


That was odd, thinking about the trip so far, she really hadn't shared much of her name other than an X on the contract. Hells, she wasn't even sure how she'd communicate her name.


Looking up, she bites her lip in thought, kicking aside the dirt before her into a usable surface.


A sharpened piece of kindling later, she starts on writing her name.


She'd never had schooling but back home there was a teacher who whored on the side. She didn't live in the brothel so Lyke didn't see her a whole lot but the woman was very pretty, wore leather and seemed to be mean to her clients. Despite all that though, the woman was kind to Lyke, their longest interaction a slow night where she taught Lyke a few letters and symbols.


First the lazy L, going straight down then right to the hells. That one was easy. An L being drawn in the dirt with a little pride in the execution evident.


Then came something, Lyke trying to mouth the 'why' sound subconsciously. She starts with a W, not remembering what that one sounded like before erasing half and leaving it a V. Close enough.


An easy one was next. A harsh sound that people barked out and was even on a rune enscribed piece of wood in the brother. K.


Following it up, she does her very best, remembering the little lines of an E but backwards, making a nice 3 on the ground.


She looks up, tapping the ground and trying to get him to sound it out for her.


@KamiKahzy
 
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Abram


Abram watched patiently as the mute slowly but surely started to write her name in the ground. Given the cautious movements and silent sounds she mouthed out it was evident the woman was largely illiterate. That was fine, Abram was barely literate as it was. He only knew enough to sound out words and write basic notes if he had need of it. And it was a good thing he knew that much or else what she wrote might as well have been ancient runes to him.


Abram began to sound out the word as best he could, and silently thanked God that there were so few letters to battle with. The beginning didn't seem right at first, "Liv-" didn't feel right in his mouth. The "L" and "K" were very obvious, and the last bit resembled a backwards "E", so that was three out of four. Abram thought over his letters and thought that perhaps the "V" was something else entirely. He sounded out what he thought her name was softly to himself, seeing how it felt on his tongue. It seemed to fit, so he looked over at the woman and spoke louder so she could hear. "Lyke?"


@Teh Frixz
 
Sam


His paranoia had settled as the voices did too. Dinner... or at least what there was of it, was eaten with restrained vigor. Trying to savour any remote taste it had, rather than wolfing it down like a starving hound. He hands back the bowl - having been licked clean of even sticky residue - back to the Crone, pathetic with gratitude. He mutters a prayer in thanks. To whatever god was kind enough to listen.


He then simply digs himself a trough out of the earth next to the fire, making a torso sized bowl of soft, upturned topsoil, and huddles down into it and wraps his hides and cowl and cape around and over him, eventually resembling a mound of cloth with eyes.


The eyes watch Lyke and Abram talk, and what Lyke draws in the dirt. Though that was not of much help. She could have been writing in ancient tongue for all he knew of writing.


Eventually the eyes droop, and the mound snuffles sleepily.
 
Lyke


She snaps her fingers and inadvertently smiles. It was nice to just be understood without the song and dance of her hands. She covers her mouth, still smiling and points down at her name.


That was it. Her name. She memorized the symbols drawn in the ground for a few moments. She'd have to ask the Silkhand to edit her signature now.


Calming herself from the excitement of finally locking down her name, like inhales a bit, finally looking up to see the slave staring at them both before pretending to nod off.


Somewhat noisily, she tosses her bowl against the collected pile to make enough noise to cause the little one to wake up. It was a spiteful move but being stared at was irksome, especially in such a judgemental manner.


Putting a little distance down between her and Abram, she sits back down with a what now expression


@KamiKahzy @PixelWitch
 
Abram


Abram looked down at Lyke's name in the ground and said it aloud once more, just to help him remember it. After that he looked back at Lyke and smiled with a slight nod. "That's a good name."


Abram looked back at the shaky scribbles in the ground and thought for a moment. After a few quiet seconds passed he slowly reached for the stick Lyke had used before and began to write beneath the letters she had written before. His penmanship wasn't ideal, but at the very least he knew the correct shape the letters should be. First was the "L", much sharper in angle but still similar in shape. Then came the "Y", which Abram took a bit longer to write for Lyke's benefit. He started with the "V" shape as she had, then looked at her to ensure she was watching before giving it its tail. Then came the "K", which Abram found he could not improve upon from Lyke's example. And finally the "E", which Abram slowed down on as well so Lyke could see which way the 'arms' (as he'd been taught) were supposed to face.


When he was done Abram placed the stick next to the writing and admired his work for a few moments. He looked towards Lyke and spoke with complete sincerity and absolutely no hint of ridicule as he asked, "Letters aren't your strength, aye?"


@Teh Frixz
 
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Lyke


She shrugs and shakes her head. The symbols down on the ground were just things that didn't like to stick in her head. It wasn't hard to memorize the letters that made her name but beyond that the rules and all the symbols with the hundreds of sounds. It was too much to care about. She had better men and women than Abram try and fail to teach her, it wasn't going to happen.


She taps him on the shoulder twice, pointing at his eyes then pointing out at the woods.


Time to get their minds out of nonsense in the dirt and back on the situation at hand.


@KamiKahzy
 
Osric Silkhand





Osric watched the business of the camp with dispassionate eye, first from his place at the crone's side, cutting with a practiced and deft motion, then from the far side of the fire. He watches Darius, scanning his face for hints of deception, for the moment he relaxes or the mask falls.


Nothing but fear beneath stoicism. I could approve of this man in my employ, he thinks, and moves to join Adelaide.


On his way past, he offers Sam a wineskin and a smile.

tfw no alerts.


Also, Silver, is it cool to use a secret-seeking spell?


[dice]17701[/dice]
 
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Abram


Abram looked out at the woods where Lyke had pointed, then smirked and cocked his head slightly in agreement. "Aye, true." He hoisted himself up from the dirt and looked towards the wagon where he'd left his poleax. But before he left he looked down at Lyke, speaking again with that quiet confidence from before. "I don't know much, but I can teach some if ye like." He gestured towards Lyke's name on the ground, her version and his. "Might make speakin' a bit simpler."


With that said Abram walked calmly over to the cart and retrieved his poleaxe. He hiked it up on his shoulder and carried it to a slightly elevated patch of grass near the camp. It would give him a better vantage point, and it also gave him a good view of the camp. The second part would be especially helpful tonight, as Abram was wary of Darius and his constitution. He had a lot to process tonight, and would be unpredictable over the coming days.


Abram sat on his perch and leaned the poleaxe against his shoulder, settling in for the next few hours of his watch.


@Teh Frixz @Silvertongued


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Lyke


The scrawled runes seem to stare up at her, Lyke staring back in an equally dismissive fashion. It was a kind offer but not one she was keen on taking.


Might make speakin' a bit simpler her left tit. She could learn all the runes and symbols of all the worlds and hells and it wouldn't make a bit of difference without a tongue to form them.


The point is emphasized by Lyke spitting out an ample wad of saliva onto the etched dirt before wiping away both renditions with her boot and standing up. She dusts herself off and waltzes over to the small tent she erected earlier to nap and await her shift.
 
The Crone danders about for a few hours into Abram's watch, setting things up for the next days travel, seeing to the animals, and generally being surprisingly productive. Eventually though, she complains about the chill of the late hour and shuffles off to her bunk within the caravan.


Darisu sleeps where he has sat all night, a look of discomfort on his face. He mumbles from time to time, fidgeting sluggishly as he does so. His slumber is terse and fitful, his voice small and timid, but he does not wake.

After that comes the quiet associated with the watch, which held a symphony of sounds all of its own. The susurrus of the wind gently winding through the leaves and the long grasses. The hiss and crackle of the dying fire. The chorus of breath of those around the camp. But there is another sound, one that seems at odds with the familiarity of the others.


It's low, barely noticeable, a consistent rumble, like a constant footstep, punctuated by the occasional click of pebbles.


There is no sign of movement outside the light of the fire, and no thing lopes out in the flatlands, lit by the light of the twin moons.
 
Abram


The sound was faint on the wind, but Abram had heard it. Some queer pattering on the grass that he couldn't quite pick out. Abram swiveled his head away from the fire and towards the direction he thought it was coming from. He focused his senses, trying to discern the source of the disturbance.


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Lyke


A bucket sat before her eyes. A wooden thing, inlaid with a dark metal. Although she was standing up, the counter the bucket was placed on just out of reach.


She extends her reach, balancing on her toes just as a huge hand descended from on high to turn the crank in the middle of the bucket. The appendage wasn't attached to anything, just hovering in air and turning the crank.


Though visibly surprised, Lyke just wanted to look in the bucket! Stepping back a few feet, she takes a running jump and lifts off into the air, landing with a ker-plop. Looking around, she realizes why she wanted in.


Its Creamed Ice. As a child, a stall opened up outside the red district selling it. The monger in his white hat used to give some to the children gathering around him, much to the chagrin of the Madame trying to advertise outside.


It was soft and cold, sweet and just the perfect thing for the hot summers. The continual cranking of his freezers a wonderful summer lullaby.


Quickly making a snow demon, Lyke waves her arms up and down for the wings before rolling over and attempting to lick the ice cream.


Then came shock and pain. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get a single lick of the heavenly surface. Her heart rate raises, panic setting in as the same figures from the woods started rising up from the ambrosia. Their hollow eyes staring her down as they reach down, grabbing handfuls and reaching their hands out.


Powerless to stop them, her mouth is filled with sharp, red hot, pain! It flows down her throat, gagging her. No air, no air, no air!!


Back in the world, Lyke's pleasant snoring becomes a gagging cough as she made the mistake of sleeping on her back and her spit pooled up.


"Ack! Waalk! Phughh!" Lyke nearly screams, gasping for breath as she came to her senses inside her small tent. The cold air was seeping in from outside making her skin bump up like a goose. Quickly she puts on her tunic, strapping it in place before throwing back on her thick coat and shoving the dream out of her mind.


It felt later and Abram hadn't come to wake her yet. She doubted he'd have strayed a minute off schedule, the man had a clock inside him. Rearing up, she peeks outside.
 
Abram


Looking into the dark Abram had a hard time understanding what it was that he saw. They looked like tracks but nothing that he was familiar with from his days back home. Abram looked back to the camp to ensure everything was alright and noticed Lyke poking her head out of her tent. He made eye contact with her and slowly motioned for her to come to him with his hand. He then put his finger to his lips to indicate she should remain quiet as she did so.


Abram waited patiently for Lyke to come to him, noticing that she was in fact very silent on her way over to him. A useful skill to be sure. Once she was close enough Abram pointed quietly to the tracks he noticed. They appeared to be shallow furrows in the ground, ranging in size from his finger width to the whole of his fist. He couldn't see any footprints that would indicate an animal dragging a meal somewhere, so the tracks were strange to him at best.


Abram began to look out into the dark again as he spoke quietly to Lyke, making sure there was at least one set of eyes on watch. "What do ye make of this?"


@Teh Frixz
 
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Lyke


Though she was a bit early for her shift, Lyke didn't mind too much. Abram was a bit of a character, too nice for one of the hedge Knights. Yawning and rubbing shallow sleep from her eyes, she made her way over toward his lookout.


Making sure she didn't disturb the sleep of whoever was next up, Lyke moved slowly and carefully before leaning down to inspect whatever Abram was pointing out. She'd lived in the woods for a time, knowing enough to get by and track a deer but it was nothing special. They ought to get the southerner out here, scroungey beast looked like he'd know his way around the dirt.


She grins to herself while tracing the tracks. Little lengthy grooves like the ones by the shore as the tide came and went.


Lyke looks up, waving her hand to grab his attention for one of her gesture attempts.


She makes a little > with her hand, wiggling her arm before hooking two fingers down and 'biting' her thigh. She grasps at her neck and turns her head to the side, mining death.


It was still too early in the year and they were too far north for any of the larger vipers and asps to be about but they were known to stir. Lyke looks back over at her tent, considering circling it with some rope.


She stands up, shrugging. Whatever it was didn't seem like it was bothering them.


@KamiKahzy
 
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