Knights of Anathaeum For but a Penny More
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Threads open to all members of the Knights of Anathaeum group
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What was an ancient agreement to an ambitious young lord?
But an obstacle to be overcome.
And who were the Knights of Anatheaum, but a forgotten order of witches and warlocks, gone mad with the twisted tangles of the old world. Vagrants. Ragamuffins. An order of charlatan bush-hounds who sought to control the expansion of greater men. And for what? For the wilds.
Baron Dal Ransic spat on such notions. But, he would entertain their... request for an audience. Paltry fools that they were.
"Syr Galvanhad, of the Knights, Anathaeum!" the clerk called out and armored foot falls sounded metal chime as the old dog approached the Lord's seat of power.
Yes. Let him approach. Let him think that he could sway the great mind of the Baron of the Tenpence Barony.
The old crab came to a halt, and two poleaxes crossed to impede his approach.
"Galvanhad, is it?" Baron Dal Ransic began from behind his desk, charts of the area laid about, little figurines marked locals not far from his holds and stabbed in to the territories that were marked, Eldyr Wood. "Out with it then, why have you come to disturb my peace?" The man sneered, his eyes narrowed.
From within Galvanhad's mind came a ripple across his grey matter. The voice of a familiar knight echoed deep within the recesses of his memory. "The Link is frayed, Galvanhad, stretched thin." Syr Theros would warn. "I hold in the village," the last ripple would tell.
Haelyn Ravielle Syr Galvanhad Cato
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House Ransic, a lesser house of lesser lands. And more importantly, this 'Baron' of the Tenpence Barony was the lesser sons of greater sires. A man with ambition greater than he, a threat to the wylds. Three Knights and a squire had been sent for this task: stop the Baron and his logging.
Anitra, the Squire, had accompanied Galvanhad into the Barons home. Her armor bore the sigil of both the Order and House Bannorn. She was younger, eager to prove herself, but devoted to learning all she could from the elders of the Order.
Each of them had arrived unarmed, their weapons with their fellow Knights. They had arrived in peace, and though the followers of the good Baron jeered and taunted, they had proudly walked through the manor.
Once they reached the parlor before the.. seat of power (small as it was), the guards would begin to step between the pair.
"Oi.. just you, gray beard. Leave the girl outside." He said with a less than trustworthy grin, his hands already reaching for her shoulder.
"She will, but you will not invade her space." Galvanhad would reply, his tone stern, his eyes bearing the rare promise of death.
The guard seemed to stop, his hand floating where it was, before withdrawing with a gulp. "Uhh.. yes, Syr."
Galvanhad turned to Anitra, his voice lowered. "Stand near the window. I don't trust their motives."
"Yes, Syr Galvanhad." She would say with a determined nod, before taking a few backwards steps towards the wall. She then pretended to be gazing out the window, her senses alert.
"Your name?" A nearby clerk asked.
The old knight then turned to the clerk. "Syr Galvanhad, of the Knights of Anathaeum."
The portly man nodded, then headed out before him. A pair of guards would block Galvanhads way as they awaited his approval to enter.
Syr Galvanhad, of the Knights, Anathaeum!
Came the cry. Their halberds uncrossed, and Galvanhad advanced, only to be blocked by a second pair of halberds.
Galvanhad, is it? Out with it then, why have you come to disturb my peace?
The Master-At-Arms noticed the set of figurines and other markers upon the map, which would prompt a smile that did not quite reach his eyes, as he thought of the saplings within the Monastery. "Indeed it is, Baron Ransic." He said with a formal bow. At the completion of the bow, he returned to his full height, his eyes brushing gently over the map to deovte it to memory. "My lord, Baron, it has been some time since I have stood within these impressive halls. Greatly changed since the days of your grandfather. I have been dispatched here to mediate a problem, one that I am sure occurred by accident. It has come to our attention that you are logging wood that is being preserved within the Vale, wood protected by treaties that your forebears have continually re-signed and maintained, treaties that ensure the co-operation of your great house. If you have hired workers for a set contract, may I suggest you send them north to see if there are woods yet unclaimed upon the border you share with Baron Pinkrose?"
The Link is frayed, Galvanhad, stretched thin. I hold in the village.
Syr Theros' voice echoed in his mind. "Stay out of sight, if things go poorly, Anitra will be exiting the eastern side." He would think to himself, allowing the continual presence of Theros within his mind.
Cato | Haelyn Ravielle | Bebin Theros
Anitra, the Squire, had accompanied Galvanhad into the Barons home. Her armor bore the sigil of both the Order and House Bannorn. She was younger, eager to prove herself, but devoted to learning all she could from the elders of the Order.Each of them had arrived unarmed, their weapons with their fellow Knights. They had arrived in peace, and though the followers of the good Baron jeered and taunted, they had proudly walked through the manor.
Once they reached the parlor before the.. seat of power (small as it was), the guards would begin to step between the pair.
"Oi.. just you, gray beard. Leave the girl outside." He said with a less than trustworthy grin, his hands already reaching for her shoulder.
"She will, but you will not invade her space." Galvanhad would reply, his tone stern, his eyes bearing the rare promise of death.
The guard seemed to stop, his hand floating where it was, before withdrawing with a gulp. "Uhh.. yes, Syr."
Galvanhad turned to Anitra, his voice lowered. "Stand near the window. I don't trust their motives."
"Yes, Syr Galvanhad." She would say with a determined nod, before taking a few backwards steps towards the wall. She then pretended to be gazing out the window, her senses alert.
"Your name?" A nearby clerk asked.
The old knight then turned to the clerk. "Syr Galvanhad, of the Knights of Anathaeum."
The portly man nodded, then headed out before him. A pair of guards would block Galvanhads way as they awaited his approval to enter.
Syr Galvanhad, of the Knights, Anathaeum!
Came the cry. Their halberds uncrossed, and Galvanhad advanced, only to be blocked by a second pair of halberds.
Galvanhad, is it? Out with it then, why have you come to disturb my peace?
The Master-At-Arms noticed the set of figurines and other markers upon the map, which would prompt a smile that did not quite reach his eyes, as he thought of the saplings within the Monastery. "Indeed it is, Baron Ransic." He said with a formal bow. At the completion of the bow, he returned to his full height, his eyes brushing gently over the map to deovte it to memory. "My lord, Baron, it has been some time since I have stood within these impressive halls. Greatly changed since the days of your grandfather. I have been dispatched here to mediate a problem, one that I am sure occurred by accident. It has come to our attention that you are logging wood that is being preserved within the Vale, wood protected by treaties that your forebears have continually re-signed and maintained, treaties that ensure the co-operation of your great house. If you have hired workers for a set contract, may I suggest you send them north to see if there are woods yet unclaimed upon the border you share with Baron Pinkrose?"
The Link is frayed, Galvanhad, stretched thin. I hold in the village.
Syr Theros' voice echoed in his mind. "Stay out of sight, if things go poorly, Anitra will be exiting the eastern side." He would think to himself, allowing the continual presence of Theros within his mind.
Cato | Haelyn Ravielle | Bebin Theros
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Understood.
The word would drop like a single stone within the well that was the mind of the veteran knight, while Syr Theros himself rested outside the castle upon the hill, his eyes narrowed beneath the hood of his cloak.
"That's a funny hat you got on there," random passerby would say.
Bebin grunt, and looked over at the man, no word to spare the simpleton as his dark eyes scrutinized the intrusion.
"And a fancy sword," the curious villager went on. "You one of them... adventurin types?"
The Lord Baron, Dal Ransic, observed the salt bearded knight. Watched as he stood so tall and proud as he made mention of his grandfather. But the remark only served to thin the Baron's gaze, and at the mention of suggestions and treatises re-signed red flashed across his features. His clenched fist thumped hard against the old table and rattled those little pieces that were strewn about. One fell over with a soft knock.
"You may suggest nothing!" He barked, and bared his yellowed teeth. His eyes were wide and white with fury, and he swelled up like a toad ready to bite. "You come to my home, and you dare," he stopped, and he cleared his throat, smoothed his coat, and sat straighter in the seat of his office once more, casting his eyes down at the map before him. At the lay of the land, and the territories lineated and marked. To his north, Pinkrose's territory. Some room there between them and the border agreed upon by his wretched ancestors. Small minded fools that they were.
"Tell me, Dog of the Wilds," the Baron goaded. The guards who stood before Galvanhad stood straighter, their eyes, hard with a feigned determination. "For that is what I've heard many and more call your kind at court," the baron's eyes rose to meet the old knight's, judgement clear in them. "What benefit does the great and noble house of Dal Ransic gain from honoring these... archaic agreements?" his eyes gleamed hard and sharp as the point of spears. "Your lot harbor the most base of the peasantry. Brigands and outlaws find refuge in those woods you protect!" he barked a little louder, and he laughed some, the sound heavy and certain. "Yet you come, and dare suggest that I, The Just and honorable Lord of the Tenpence, send my woodsman elsewhere?"
A laugh erupted from the baron. Harsh and cruel. "No, no, I think not." he took up the white piece of ivory that lay upon the map. A flat disk, with a flower carved into its surface. He turned it in his fingers as he looked at it. "And I am not the only one who has this thought, Syr Galvanhad," a snarl flashed across his face and a threw the white flower at the old knight.
"Guards!" he called out. "Arrest this man! And throw him into the dungeon!"
The two guards looked at the older knight. One of them even looked doubtful. The older, larger of the two, beneath his barbut helm, glared at Galvanhad. "Well, Syr," the older man started, voice hoarse and grim. "Ye heard m'lord," he took heavy irons from his waist, one shackle already open. "Don't go and make this any harder than it needs to be,"
Syr Galvanhad Haelyn Ravielle Cato
The word would drop like a single stone within the well that was the mind of the veteran knight, while Syr Theros himself rested outside the castle upon the hill, his eyes narrowed beneath the hood of his cloak.
"That's a funny hat you got on there," random passerby would say.
Bebin grunt, and looked over at the man, no word to spare the simpleton as his dark eyes scrutinized the intrusion.
"And a fancy sword," the curious villager went on. "You one of them... adventurin types?"
The Lord Baron, Dal Ransic, observed the salt bearded knight. Watched as he stood so tall and proud as he made mention of his grandfather. But the remark only served to thin the Baron's gaze, and at the mention of suggestions and treatises re-signed red flashed across his features. His clenched fist thumped hard against the old table and rattled those little pieces that were strewn about. One fell over with a soft knock.
"You may suggest nothing!" He barked, and bared his yellowed teeth. His eyes were wide and white with fury, and he swelled up like a toad ready to bite. "You come to my home, and you dare," he stopped, and he cleared his throat, smoothed his coat, and sat straighter in the seat of his office once more, casting his eyes down at the map before him. At the lay of the land, and the territories lineated and marked. To his north, Pinkrose's territory. Some room there between them and the border agreed upon by his wretched ancestors. Small minded fools that they were.
"Tell me, Dog of the Wilds," the Baron goaded. The guards who stood before Galvanhad stood straighter, their eyes, hard with a feigned determination. "For that is what I've heard many and more call your kind at court," the baron's eyes rose to meet the old knight's, judgement clear in them. "What benefit does the great and noble house of Dal Ransic gain from honoring these... archaic agreements?" his eyes gleamed hard and sharp as the point of spears. "Your lot harbor the most base of the peasantry. Brigands and outlaws find refuge in those woods you protect!" he barked a little louder, and he laughed some, the sound heavy and certain. "Yet you come, and dare suggest that I, The Just and honorable Lord of the Tenpence, send my woodsman elsewhere?"
A laugh erupted from the baron. Harsh and cruel. "No, no, I think not." he took up the white piece of ivory that lay upon the map. A flat disk, with a flower carved into its surface. He turned it in his fingers as he looked at it. "And I am not the only one who has this thought, Syr Galvanhad," a snarl flashed across his face and a threw the white flower at the old knight.
"Guards!" he called out. "Arrest this man! And throw him into the dungeon!"
The two guards looked at the older knight. One of them even looked doubtful. The older, larger of the two, beneath his barbut helm, glared at Galvanhad. "Well, Syr," the older man started, voice hoarse and grim. "Ye heard m'lord," he took heavy irons from his waist, one shackle already open. "Don't go and make this any harder than it needs to be,"
Syr Galvanhad Haelyn Ravielle Cato
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Galvanhad watched the fury build upon the 'Barons' face. He was a man with more ambition than he deserved to carry. Pride. It would one-day be his undoing. At 'Dog of the Wilds', Galvanhad stood even straighter, his gaze still gentle, almost bearing pity for the guards before him.
"The benefit is peace, Baron of the Tenpence. Peace, that has dominated the Vale for some time. Peace, that your forebears were eager for. Humans are not the only ones with claim to the Vale, for where you are logging his home to the others. The elves, gnomes, others.. that some hunt for sport." Peace with House Bannorn, whose outpost to the North loomed over the other northern houses. He felt no need to voice it, for one of the guards seemed to link that thought as Galvanhad spoke.
"I suggested you log on the shared lands.. not that you risk becoming the man." This would be the first time a harshness seeped into his voice. So, Alon was building an alliance of sort. His gaze dropped to the flat disk. Alon. The poison of the Borderlords. "It is good your grandfather is not here to bear witness."
Guards! Arrest this man! And throw him into the dungeon!
The Master-At-Arms turned his cool gaze to the guards. One didn't even dare to move, yet an older guard would at least try to speak, even if it was accompanied by a glare.
"I will submit," he paused, hearing Anitra curse at a guard followed by the sound of her smacking him. "But only once she is safe, until that time, I'm sorry." As he grabbed his irons from his waist, the older knight would turn, driving a boot into the unsuspecting chest of one of the halberdiers and sending him clattering to the floor.
The next guard would swing his halberd only for it to stop as the Master-At-Arms stepped into the swing, catching it by the haft and driving an armored elbow into guards face. He could feel the nose break beneath the impact. The halberd was yanked free from the owners grasp before swung half-heartedly for clearance at the two guards before him.
The haft of the halberd would then be broken in half over Galvanhads plated knee, with the head of the weapon discarded. "Anitra!" He tossed the remnant to the Squire, before turning to block the doorway.
Anitra would smack the 'creepy guard' in the knees with a sickening pop before throwing him back into the other guards. With a final look to the back of the Master-At-Arms, she would swing down from the window and disappear into the brush. She knew the plan, she knew where to meet up with Syr Theros.
Once she was gone, Galvanhad would weather the fists and crudgels used to attempt to move him from their path, buying her as much time as he could. Only once he was sure she had escaped, he dropped to a knee, his gauntlets leaving their perch on the portal before lifting to be clasped. "I now submit to your sentencing. You couldn't be trusted to let the girl go, oathbreaker."
A final blow to the head caused his vision to go blurry before the irons were clasped around his wrists and he was hauled to his feet. The guards would drag him past the table, where Galvanhad would put up a fleeting resistance to grab another disk, this one bearing the sigil of House Bannorn, the giant eagle. He then tossed it at the Barons feet. "Keep your eyes to the North, Baron." It was his turn to laugh, the sound disappearing as he was forced away and guided to the dungeons.
She's out, my friend. As you called it, he would arrest whoever showed up. It appears I owe you a pint at Eth Tikund.
Bebin Theros | Haelyn Ravielle | Cato
"The benefit is peace, Baron of the Tenpence. Peace, that has dominated the Vale for some time. Peace, that your forebears were eager for. Humans are not the only ones with claim to the Vale, for where you are logging his home to the others. The elves, gnomes, others.. that some hunt for sport." Peace with House Bannorn, whose outpost to the North loomed over the other northern houses. He felt no need to voice it, for one of the guards seemed to link that thought as Galvanhad spoke.
"I suggested you log on the shared lands.. not that you risk becoming the man." This would be the first time a harshness seeped into his voice. So, Alon was building an alliance of sort. His gaze dropped to the flat disk. Alon. The poison of the Borderlords. "It is good your grandfather is not here to bear witness."
Guards! Arrest this man! And throw him into the dungeon!
The Master-At-Arms turned his cool gaze to the guards. One didn't even dare to move, yet an older guard would at least try to speak, even if it was accompanied by a glare.
"I will submit," he paused, hearing Anitra curse at a guard followed by the sound of her smacking him. "But only once she is safe, until that time, I'm sorry." As he grabbed his irons from his waist, the older knight would turn, driving a boot into the unsuspecting chest of one of the halberdiers and sending him clattering to the floor.
The next guard would swing his halberd only for it to stop as the Master-At-Arms stepped into the swing, catching it by the haft and driving an armored elbow into guards face. He could feel the nose break beneath the impact. The halberd was yanked free from the owners grasp before swung half-heartedly for clearance at the two guards before him.
The haft of the halberd would then be broken in half over Galvanhads plated knee, with the head of the weapon discarded. "Anitra!" He tossed the remnant to the Squire, before turning to block the doorway.
Anitra would smack the 'creepy guard' in the knees with a sickening pop before throwing him back into the other guards. With a final look to the back of the Master-At-Arms, she would swing down from the window and disappear into the brush. She knew the plan, she knew where to meet up with Syr Theros.
Once she was gone, Galvanhad would weather the fists and crudgels used to attempt to move him from their path, buying her as much time as he could. Only once he was sure she had escaped, he dropped to a knee, his gauntlets leaving their perch on the portal before lifting to be clasped. "I now submit to your sentencing. You couldn't be trusted to let the girl go, oathbreaker."
A final blow to the head caused his vision to go blurry before the irons were clasped around his wrists and he was hauled to his feet. The guards would drag him past the table, where Galvanhad would put up a fleeting resistance to grab another disk, this one bearing the sigil of House Bannorn, the giant eagle. He then tossed it at the Barons feet. "Keep your eyes to the North, Baron." It was his turn to laugh, the sound disappearing as he was forced away and guided to the dungeons.
She's out, my friend. As you called it, he would arrest whoever showed up. It appears I owe you a pint at Eth Tikund.
Bebin Theros | Haelyn Ravielle | Cato
Haelyn Ravielle lay on her back on the wooden bench that served as her chair and bed. As far as cells went, this was not the worst she had resided in. They were nice enough to have a decent sized bench, hay, a bucket for relieving ones self, and a bucket of water for drinking or bathing or drowning yourself. The bucket of water could be taken in several different directions. Haelyn was sure that she was not the only one who had considered the drowning aspect.
She had no idea how long she had been down in the dark, dank dungeon but she declared her innocence every time a guard brought her food. Innocent, framed, tricked, bamboozled...she changed the wording sometimes to spice up her pleas.
They were false pleas but she had to try.
She could not recall the exact words that left the Baron's lips but there was something about a hanging offense or some shit. Haelyn did not have time to be hung. She had a war that still needed a warrior.
There was a commotion from the entryway that caused Haelyn to sit up and prepare for her next I am innocent please believe me speech. It seemed a little early but who was she to question the will of her jailers. What she saw though is not what she was expecting.
She was surprised to find that she was no longer alone in the dungeon. Surprised and welcoming of the company. One could only entertain themselves for so long. The man was some sort of knight and she wondered what he had done to anger the Baron.
After her shenanigans...he could have just showed up and politely asked the Baron to do something.
Oops.
Syr Galvanhad Bebin Theros Cato
She had no idea how long she had been down in the dark, dank dungeon but she declared her innocence every time a guard brought her food. Innocent, framed, tricked, bamboozled...she changed the wording sometimes to spice up her pleas.
They were false pleas but she had to try.
She could not recall the exact words that left the Baron's lips but there was something about a hanging offense or some shit. Haelyn did not have time to be hung. She had a war that still needed a warrior.
There was a commotion from the entryway that caused Haelyn to sit up and prepare for her next I am innocent please believe me speech. It seemed a little early but who was she to question the will of her jailers. What she saw though is not what she was expecting.
She was surprised to find that she was no longer alone in the dungeon. Surprised and welcoming of the company. One could only entertain themselves for so long. The man was some sort of knight and she wondered what he had done to anger the Baron.
After her shenanigans...he could have just showed up and politely asked the Baron to do something.
Oops.
Syr Galvanhad Bebin Theros Cato
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The Baron's lips turned down and his nose twitched in anger as he stared at disc the old knight had thrown at his feet. "Proud fool," he hissed. "That you would think my eyes have not looked to find those wretched eagles that roost so high above us." He spat upon the token as the guards dragged the upstart out.
"When you hang," he said, voice like smoke as poison dripped from his words and his eyes looked up at the old knights defiant struggle. "I would ask you do the same, Syr Galvanhad!" The portal was freed open, and they dragged Galvanhad out. "Look to the North!" he called out, gleeful and with a mad and toothy smile.
"Bloody dog of the wilds," the lord huffed as he strode about his desk, his eyes studying the map, and all the territory that would belong to the Tenpence Barony soon enough. "And we will go on ridding ourselves of any such fool, or upstart who dare defy us," he said, voice tight with excitement. "Not but vagrants and criminals, the discarded proginy of lesser houses," he went on, and would go on as he thought of the future so near.
Bebin grunt, and huffed, his displeasure growing ever deeper. He closed his eyes, and sank into the depth of the waters there in his own mind.
Like we have till morning.
He took in another deep breath through his nose as the local stared at him wide eyed. "You alright there, mister?" he probed as he watched the big turbaned man breath, in and out, as he stood near statue still. "Mister?"
I will see you freed, if only to get my drink.
The corner of Bebin's lip turned up, and his eyes came open, to bare witness upon the local.
"Uh..." the local said, wide eyed. He licked his lips, to help him calm down some. "I take you are alright then?"
Bebin nodded. "I will need a place of lodging," he finally said. "Do you recommend any?"
The local bobbed his head quickly. "Ye-yes sir, the Ten Penny Pig is got the best mead in all the town, and a mighty fine roast on most nights, beds are comfy too from what I can remember,"
Another nod from the be-turbaned knight. "Very good, it will do," he moved off.
"You... you don't want me to tell you where it is?" The local called out.
"You already have," Bebin called back.
The local just stared at him wide eyed as he walked away. "But I didn't... say nothing about it,"
Syr Galvanhad Haelyn Ravielle
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"You should make that day sooner than later, Baron. Wait too long, and it will be the eagles I see in the North." Galvanhad laughed at the man. "And you will know how short your reach is, respectfully." A taunt. The guards pushed and shoved and soon, he would find himself taken to a small dungeon, likely a personal one. It was small, damp, and already had a tenant. The guards forced him into a cell and slammed the door behind him.
His eyes would take a moment to adjust in the candlelight, before finally focusing on the other patron. She was a woman, an elf if the ears were to be trusted. That meant she could have been arrested on the very grounds of what she was. "Afternoon. What did they get you for?" He asked, a small grin forming. "Got me for loitering."
His eyes would take a moment to adjust in the candlelight, before finally focusing on the other patron. She was a woman, an elf if the ears were to be trusted. That meant she could have been arrested on the very grounds of what she was. "Afternoon. What did they get you for?" He asked, a small grin forming. "Got me for loitering."
Haelyn studied that man as he acclimated to the low light of this hellhole. His question immediately set her on edge and she wondered if he was perhaps a plant in order to get her to finally confess to her crimes.
She did not think the Baron was smart enough to think of that but she preferred to not take that chance.
"I am accused of trying to burn down the Baron's manor. Attempted arson and attempted murder. I hang at some point soon. I have lost track of time in here. They will not listen to my pleas of innocence."
There was a small, sad smile on her face as she answered.
"You shouldn't be in here very long for loitering. He is probably just in a foul mood because a hair is out of place or something," her words were punctuated with a roll of her eyes.
"The food is shit but the bed isn't too terrible," Haelyn tried to joke but it was half-hearted.
Cato Syr Galvanhad Bebin Theros
She did not think the Baron was smart enough to think of that but she preferred to not take that chance.
"I am accused of trying to burn down the Baron's manor. Attempted arson and attempted murder. I hang at some point soon. I have lost track of time in here. They will not listen to my pleas of innocence."
There was a small, sad smile on her face as she answered.
"You shouldn't be in here very long for loitering. He is probably just in a foul mood because a hair is out of place or something," her words were punctuated with a roll of her eyes.
"The food is shit but the bed isn't too terrible," Haelyn tried to joke but it was half-hearted.
Cato Syr Galvanhad Bebin Theros
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Cloaked and hooded, the turbaned knight strode through the town at a sure clip. His breathing strong, his eyes cast to the horizon. He drew in one deep breath between steps.
A pulse from the grey depths.
Squire Tarid the voice of Bebin would ripple through the bones of the young man, should he allow the flow of thought in. Secure the steeds in the woods, I will collect Anitra and we shall rendezvous at the Ten Penny Pig. Dusk cloak you, Squire.
The current would dissipate, and Bebin felt full his next foot fall. The press of his weight down on the ground, the spread of his toes against the earth, the flex of his muscles as he went on, the sound of the townsfolks stirring around him. How blissful and ignorant they were to all that stirred within the walls of the Baron's keep.
Guards patrolled, the heads of their pole-axes gleaming in the sun, as if to show the world all their edge and the threat of their weight. A huff was pushed out of Bebin's nose. Did they know? He wondered. He veered into an alleyway, avoiding the line of the guard's projected path. The Pursuant's eyes shut as he let out a long smooth breath. He dove into the Loch. That upside down world of absence punctuated by the color of auras. All who thought could be seen, and a singular ghost of Bebin stood there above the mirror's surface of the waking world, his corporeal form still and calm.
The blue shadow that was Bebin in the Loch moved, almost adrift, steps more like bounds that sent him sailing across the ground as most others seemed still. The town folk, their glowing figures, sprouted from their rooted forms that hung beneath them like stalactites along the ceiling of a cave, heads pointed straight down to the ground. They moved, yes, but imperceptibly slow. For time, that perceived construct, bent and flowed in different currents beneath the depth of the Loch.
The Pursuant of Loch, projected as he was in that ephemeral space between the consciousness of all that could think, came to a halt between the guards. Their forms, rippled and ebbed with the stirring abyss, inched every onward as Bebin linked his mana with theirs.
With the next pull of breath, Bebin of the waking world opened his eyes. No, he surmised, they knew nothing yet. He moved with certainty as he left the shadows of the alleyway, and linked his mind with Anitra's trace. Felt the pounding of her worried heart.
Calm. We are here. He would let her know. We prepared for this.
Tarid Ra’leem Syr Galvanhad Haelyn Ravielle
A pulse from the grey depths.
Squire Tarid the voice of Bebin would ripple through the bones of the young man, should he allow the flow of thought in. Secure the steeds in the woods, I will collect Anitra and we shall rendezvous at the Ten Penny Pig. Dusk cloak you, Squire.
The current would dissipate, and Bebin felt full his next foot fall. The press of his weight down on the ground, the spread of his toes against the earth, the flex of his muscles as he went on, the sound of the townsfolks stirring around him. How blissful and ignorant they were to all that stirred within the walls of the Baron's keep.
Guards patrolled, the heads of their pole-axes gleaming in the sun, as if to show the world all their edge and the threat of their weight. A huff was pushed out of Bebin's nose. Did they know? He wondered. He veered into an alleyway, avoiding the line of the guard's projected path. The Pursuant's eyes shut as he let out a long smooth breath. He dove into the Loch. That upside down world of absence punctuated by the color of auras. All who thought could be seen, and a singular ghost of Bebin stood there above the mirror's surface of the waking world, his corporeal form still and calm.
The blue shadow that was Bebin in the Loch moved, almost adrift, steps more like bounds that sent him sailing across the ground as most others seemed still. The town folk, their glowing figures, sprouted from their rooted forms that hung beneath them like stalactites along the ceiling of a cave, heads pointed straight down to the ground. They moved, yes, but imperceptibly slow. For time, that perceived construct, bent and flowed in different currents beneath the depth of the Loch.
The Pursuant of Loch, projected as he was in that ephemeral space between the consciousness of all that could think, came to a halt between the guards. Their forms, rippled and ebbed with the stirring abyss, inched every onward as Bebin linked his mana with theirs.
With the next pull of breath, Bebin of the waking world opened his eyes. No, he surmised, they knew nothing yet. He moved with certainty as he left the shadows of the alleyway, and linked his mind with Anitra's trace. Felt the pounding of her worried heart.
Calm. We are here. He would let her know. We prepared for this.
Tarid Ra’leem Syr Galvanhad Haelyn Ravielle
- Messages
- 27
- Character Biography
- Link
Secure the steeds in the woods, I will collect Anitra and we shall rendezvous at the Ten Penny Pig. Dusk cloak you, Squire.
Tarid had settled in for the evening after a lengthy travel. Water was boiling for a cup of tea when the telepathic call for help came to his mind. As ready as he was for a moment of respite, a call from Bebin could not go unheeded. The flame beneath the pot of warmed water was quickly doused by a splash of the contents within it, before the remainder was emptied onto the ground. Ever ready to depart at a moment's notice, packing took mere minutes. Once he was ready, he led the horses into the woods, eyes scanning his surroundings in search of landmarks that might help him locate the chosen location when needed.
Tarid paused at the edge of the woods to survey the surrounding landscape, with his map and charcoal in hand. Mountain tops were noted and identified, and once he held confidence that he could retrace his steps and return to his location, he tucked the marked map away and trekked into the woods. Tarid traveled far enough that the steeds should not be easily found by anyone else, yet close enough to the forest’s perimeter that it would be simple with knowledge of the location.
Once the horses had been tethered, Tarid began to work obscuring magic over the area. A wide circle was marked into the ground with a stick, roughly a dozen feet in radius. He dusted the circle with contents from a pouch, containing the crushed rusted-red reagent with which the spell was empowered. The tethered horses became unnoticeable to any beyond the circle Tarid had marked. Only on crossing it would their steeds within be exposed to mundane eyesight.
Content in the security the magic provided, he climbed onto his own personal steed and set off towards the Ten Penny Pig. There was no doubt the matter was of high importance for a message such as Bebin had sent, though Tarid didn’t know what task would await him. Perhaps there would be a battle, or perhaps a comrade was in dire need of help. Whatever the purpose he had been summoned for, Tarid was prepared. Wonder over what the given task might be continued to run through his mind, the steed he rode upon galloping over the soft grassy ground.
The travel was brief, completed at the greatest speed his horse could maintain. The steed was exhausted by the time of arrival, but had done well in making the journey so quick. Once he’d secured his horse at the stables with ample food and water to recover from the brisk pace of travel, Tarid ventured towards the Ten Penny Pig.
As he entered, he kept an eye open for Bebin, if he had arrived first.
Bebin Theros Syr Galvanhad Haelyn Ravielle
Tarid had settled in for the evening after a lengthy travel. Water was boiling for a cup of tea when the telepathic call for help came to his mind. As ready as he was for a moment of respite, a call from Bebin could not go unheeded. The flame beneath the pot of warmed water was quickly doused by a splash of the contents within it, before the remainder was emptied onto the ground. Ever ready to depart at a moment's notice, packing took mere minutes. Once he was ready, he led the horses into the woods, eyes scanning his surroundings in search of landmarks that might help him locate the chosen location when needed.
Tarid paused at the edge of the woods to survey the surrounding landscape, with his map and charcoal in hand. Mountain tops were noted and identified, and once he held confidence that he could retrace his steps and return to his location, he tucked the marked map away and trekked into the woods. Tarid traveled far enough that the steeds should not be easily found by anyone else, yet close enough to the forest’s perimeter that it would be simple with knowledge of the location.
Once the horses had been tethered, Tarid began to work obscuring magic over the area. A wide circle was marked into the ground with a stick, roughly a dozen feet in radius. He dusted the circle with contents from a pouch, containing the crushed rusted-red reagent with which the spell was empowered. The tethered horses became unnoticeable to any beyond the circle Tarid had marked. Only on crossing it would their steeds within be exposed to mundane eyesight.
Content in the security the magic provided, he climbed onto his own personal steed and set off towards the Ten Penny Pig. There was no doubt the matter was of high importance for a message such as Bebin had sent, though Tarid didn’t know what task would await him. Perhaps there would be a battle, or perhaps a comrade was in dire need of help. Whatever the purpose he had been summoned for, Tarid was prepared. Wonder over what the given task might be continued to run through his mind, the steed he rode upon galloping over the soft grassy ground.
The travel was brief, completed at the greatest speed his horse could maintain. The steed was exhausted by the time of arrival, but had done well in making the journey so quick. Once he’d secured his horse at the stables with ample food and water to recover from the brisk pace of travel, Tarid ventured towards the Ten Penny Pig.
As he entered, he kept an eye open for Bebin, if he had arrived first.
Bebin Theros Syr Galvanhad Haelyn Ravielle
- Messages
- 50
- Character Biography
- Link
I am accused of trying to burn down the Baron's manor. Attempted arson and attempted murder. I hang at some point soon. I have lost track of time in here. They will not listen to my pleas of innocence.
Galvanhad listened as the young Elf spun her narrative. To any, it would seem vastly believable. This region was not friendly to her kind, and that alone would be a marketable offense. But Galvanhad was not like just anyone. He could sense intent. And something within her had wanted to burn down every inch of this place.
"Since we are both destined to hang, why don't you tell me why you wished to bring this place down?" He would sit on straw mattress, his gauntlets clasped as he focused on her. "Was it the logging into the Vale? Their stance on your kind? Or something else?" There was no judgement in his voice, nor disdain, only certainty with each word. Their world was unkind to the Elves, whether it was in distant Aniria or so close as the lands around the Vale.
"I loitered to try to stop the logging. Those lands are not his." All things considered, there seemed to be little concern for his current predicament. He trusted Bebin would succeed, and he knew that young Anitra would be fine.
Haelyn Ravielle | Bebin Theros | Tarid Ra’leem
Galvanhad listened as the young Elf spun her narrative. To any, it would seem vastly believable. This region was not friendly to her kind, and that alone would be a marketable offense. But Galvanhad was not like just anyone. He could sense intent. And something within her had wanted to burn down every inch of this place.
"Since we are both destined to hang, why don't you tell me why you wished to bring this place down?" He would sit on straw mattress, his gauntlets clasped as he focused on her. "Was it the logging into the Vale? Their stance on your kind? Or something else?" There was no judgement in his voice, nor disdain, only certainty with each word. Their world was unkind to the Elves, whether it was in distant Aniria or so close as the lands around the Vale.
"I loitered to try to stop the logging. Those lands are not his." All things considered, there seemed to be little concern for his current predicament. He trusted Bebin would succeed, and he knew that young Anitra would be fine.
Haelyn Ravielle | Bebin Theros | Tarid Ra’leem
Haelyn eyed the man with suspicion. She would answer his question, of course, but it would be in that hypothetical way that innocent people used.
"If I had wished to bring this place down," she paused for a moment to make sure there were no guards loitering (ha loitering). "It would be because he is a monster intent on destroying the land for his own pleasure..." Her voice had rose slightly so she took a second to bring it back down. "His stance on elves would just be a little extra fuel to the fire," she continued. "If I was guilty of what they say, of course."
Loitering because he tried to stop the logging. He had gone through the right channels to try and stop the Baron, yet he ended up in here. Yes...burning this place down was the best option.
"Why do you care about the land?" Haelyn asked with genuine curiosity.
She knew why she cared but he seemed to be some sort of knight. Didn't they care about damsels in distress and shit like that?
Syr Galvanhad Bebin Theros Tarid Ra’leem
"If I had wished to bring this place down," she paused for a moment to make sure there were no guards loitering (ha loitering). "It would be because he is a monster intent on destroying the land for his own pleasure..." Her voice had rose slightly so she took a second to bring it back down. "His stance on elves would just be a little extra fuel to the fire," she continued. "If I was guilty of what they say, of course."
Loitering because he tried to stop the logging. He had gone through the right channels to try and stop the Baron, yet he ended up in here. Yes...burning this place down was the best option.
"Why do you care about the land?" Haelyn asked with genuine curiosity.
She knew why she cared but he seemed to be some sort of knight. Didn't they care about damsels in distress and shit like that?
Syr Galvanhad Bebin Theros Tarid Ra’leem
- Messages
- 193
- Character Biography
- Link
Open came the door of the Ten Penny Pig, and beneath its frame stood a broad and hoded figure, and another beside them.
"Welcome, welcome!" came the voice of the inn keep, tired and stretched their chords trembled, yet there was some cheer still in them, a thing practiced and rehearsed, and wielded as any warrior might their own sword.
The taller of the two hooded figures strode to the counter. "Have any rooms available?" came a gruff voice, dry and arid.
"Umm, why yes, we do sir, can I have a name?"
"Pentes"
"Very good, very good," the inn keep opened a fat ledger which rested on his tabled, took his pen and scribed the name, the date, and licked the quill before he looked up past his bulbous nose at the bearded stranger. "That'll be two gold, fair traveler,"
The cloaked man reached into his coin purse and put two gold upon the counter.
"Thank you!" the old inkeep said proudly and scooped the coins up before he went on scribbling in the ledger. "Room 203, up the stairs and to your left."
"My thanks," the cloaked man said, then walked over to the young man who stood watch in the lobby. "Squire," the squire would know the cloaked man to be Bebin, and Bebin jerked his head. "Come, we will discuss behind closed doors," He lead Tarid and the other up to the room.
When the door came shut, Bebin removed the hood of his cloak, and moved over to a desk that was near the window. His eyes studied the movement of the people outside a moment, then he drew the blinds shut. He dragged the desk across the floor to the center of the room, then revealed a map he had tucked beneath his cloak. When it unfolded, there was a map of the Baron's Manor.
"They have imprisoned Syr Galvanhad," he looked to Tarid and Anitra. "We will be breaking in to the manor under the cover of darkness," he pointed at the two of them. "You two," he said with a wild smile. "Will play the part of the Baron's men, and I shall be your prisoner,"
From outside the room, footsteps rushed at quick pace. Orders called out across the air and the citizenry hurried about.
"It sounds like they are on the lookout," Bebin left the map, and moved toward the window, pressed his back against the wall and peaked out as he saw guardsmen moving about. "They'll like spread their search out to the woods," Bebin looked back at Tarid and Anitra. "We do this job bloodless," he huffed. "Less we are left with no other option," he nod and moved over to one of the beds. "Prepare yourselves," he said as he sat upon the mat. "Tonight will be a real test of all your training,"
He laid down, and closed his eyes to rest.
Tarid Ra’leem Syr Galvanhad Haelyn Ravielle
"Welcome, welcome!" came the voice of the inn keep, tired and stretched their chords trembled, yet there was some cheer still in them, a thing practiced and rehearsed, and wielded as any warrior might their own sword.
The taller of the two hooded figures strode to the counter. "Have any rooms available?" came a gruff voice, dry and arid.
"Umm, why yes, we do sir, can I have a name?"
"Pentes"
"Very good, very good," the inn keep opened a fat ledger which rested on his tabled, took his pen and scribed the name, the date, and licked the quill before he looked up past his bulbous nose at the bearded stranger. "That'll be two gold, fair traveler,"
The cloaked man reached into his coin purse and put two gold upon the counter.
"Thank you!" the old inkeep said proudly and scooped the coins up before he went on scribbling in the ledger. "Room 203, up the stairs and to your left."
"My thanks," the cloaked man said, then walked over to the young man who stood watch in the lobby. "Squire," the squire would know the cloaked man to be Bebin, and Bebin jerked his head. "Come, we will discuss behind closed doors," He lead Tarid and the other up to the room.
When the door came shut, Bebin removed the hood of his cloak, and moved over to a desk that was near the window. His eyes studied the movement of the people outside a moment, then he drew the blinds shut. He dragged the desk across the floor to the center of the room, then revealed a map he had tucked beneath his cloak. When it unfolded, there was a map of the Baron's Manor.
"They have imprisoned Syr Galvanhad," he looked to Tarid and Anitra. "We will be breaking in to the manor under the cover of darkness," he pointed at the two of them. "You two," he said with a wild smile. "Will play the part of the Baron's men, and I shall be your prisoner,"
From outside the room, footsteps rushed at quick pace. Orders called out across the air and the citizenry hurried about.
"It sounds like they are on the lookout," Bebin left the map, and moved toward the window, pressed his back against the wall and peaked out as he saw guardsmen moving about. "They'll like spread their search out to the woods," Bebin looked back at Tarid and Anitra. "We do this job bloodless," he huffed. "Less we are left with no other option," he nod and moved over to one of the beds. "Prepare yourselves," he said as he sat upon the mat. "Tonight will be a real test of all your training,"
He laid down, and closed his eyes to rest.
Tarid Ra’leem Syr Galvanhad Haelyn Ravielle
- Messages
- 27
- Character Biography
- Link
Bebin had not arrived yet, and Tarid stood waiting for him. Most of the others in the establishment were busy dining or drinking, but Tarid continued to scan the crowd from the lobby in search. Other patrons entered and left, and he must have appeared a touch conspicuous, for a barmaid soon departed from the seating area to arrive to him with a server's inquiry.
“Hi! Can I get you anything? Drink, food, or are you looking for a room for the night?” She asked in a chipper tone, and with a friendly smile.
“Well, actually I’m just waiting for someone.” Tarid replied. Preferring not to state his business, he left it at that.
“Oh? Well what do they look like?” The barmaid responded.
“I’ll know him when I see him.” Tarid added, hoping she would turn her attention to the next customer.
“Why don’t you grab a drink and wait, I’ll send them right your way. I see everyone on the way in, y’know.” She persisted. The efforts she made were an innocent attempt to be helpful, but truly it made the situation more awkward. He didn’t want to describe Bebin, not to a barmaid who had stake in neither their mission, nor the order. To shut down her attempts again would surely appear suspicious. Attention was the last thing he needed. Even worse, he might get tossed out before he could find Bebin, bringing failure to the mission he’d been entrusted to.
He didn’t come all this way just to screw things up, but he didn’t prepare an alibi either. Tarid just had to wing it.
“Uh...well he has a light complexion. Red hair, and blue eyes. Around my age, and a little shorter than me.” He responded, careful to describe a man who appeared nothing like Bebin.
“I'll keep an eye out for him, why don't you go grab yourself a seat?” She replied, finally departing to tend to other matters. Bebin approached soon after.
"Squire, come, we will discuss behind closed doors" Announced one whom Tarid knew could be none but Bebin.
“I'm right behind you.” Tarid responded, following Bebin and Amitra. On their way, they all passed the now confused barmaid on their way.
“I....are you sure that's him?” She asked, with confusion in both her tone and expression.
“...Yep.” Was the only sheepish response Tarid could give, before both disappeared behind the closed door of the rented room.
* * *
Once inside, Tarid waited, allowing the senior knight to listen and watch for any sign that they might be spied upon. Once he closed the blinds, Tarid helped him moved the desk to the room's centre. Once so, Bebin procured a map which Tarid immediately began to study.
Galvinhad had been taken prisoner, and the three of them would have to come to his rescue. Bebin had the plan laid out, where Tarid and Amitra would feign different identities in order to infiltrate the prison he was kept in. The mission was to be one without violence, or of minimal violence, at least. It was honestly, a touch disappointing for the young squire. He imagined a swashbuckling adventure, planning on swings of his scimitar to see him through. This was not that sort of mission, and Tarid understood well enough. To mark the knights as a band of murderers would do them no good, though he could neither stand by while another was captive.
“Get in, get him, and get out. Without casualties.” Tarid responded. Bebin was right, this would surely be a true test.
“The plans are sound, and understood. I shall see them through, Syr Bebin.” Tarid affirmed, pledging himself to the duty.
Syr Galvanhad Haelyn Ravielle Bebin Theros
“Hi! Can I get you anything? Drink, food, or are you looking for a room for the night?” She asked in a chipper tone, and with a friendly smile.
“Well, actually I’m just waiting for someone.” Tarid replied. Preferring not to state his business, he left it at that.
“Oh? Well what do they look like?” The barmaid responded.
“I’ll know him when I see him.” Tarid added, hoping she would turn her attention to the next customer.
“Why don’t you grab a drink and wait, I’ll send them right your way. I see everyone on the way in, y’know.” She persisted. The efforts she made were an innocent attempt to be helpful, but truly it made the situation more awkward. He didn’t want to describe Bebin, not to a barmaid who had stake in neither their mission, nor the order. To shut down her attempts again would surely appear suspicious. Attention was the last thing he needed. Even worse, he might get tossed out before he could find Bebin, bringing failure to the mission he’d been entrusted to.
He didn’t come all this way just to screw things up, but he didn’t prepare an alibi either. Tarid just had to wing it.
“Uh...well he has a light complexion. Red hair, and blue eyes. Around my age, and a little shorter than me.” He responded, careful to describe a man who appeared nothing like Bebin.
“I'll keep an eye out for him, why don't you go grab yourself a seat?” She replied, finally departing to tend to other matters. Bebin approached soon after.
"Squire, come, we will discuss behind closed doors" Announced one whom Tarid knew could be none but Bebin.
“I'm right behind you.” Tarid responded, following Bebin and Amitra. On their way, they all passed the now confused barmaid on their way.
“I....are you sure that's him?” She asked, with confusion in both her tone and expression.
“...Yep.” Was the only sheepish response Tarid could give, before both disappeared behind the closed door of the rented room.
* * *
Once inside, Tarid waited, allowing the senior knight to listen and watch for any sign that they might be spied upon. Once he closed the blinds, Tarid helped him moved the desk to the room's centre. Once so, Bebin procured a map which Tarid immediately began to study.
Galvinhad had been taken prisoner, and the three of them would have to come to his rescue. Bebin had the plan laid out, where Tarid and Amitra would feign different identities in order to infiltrate the prison he was kept in. The mission was to be one without violence, or of minimal violence, at least. It was honestly, a touch disappointing for the young squire. He imagined a swashbuckling adventure, planning on swings of his scimitar to see him through. This was not that sort of mission, and Tarid understood well enough. To mark the knights as a band of murderers would do them no good, though he could neither stand by while another was captive.
“Get in, get him, and get out. Without casualties.” Tarid responded. Bebin was right, this would surely be a true test.
“The plans are sound, and understood. I shall see them through, Syr Bebin.” Tarid affirmed, pledging himself to the duty.
Syr Galvanhad Haelyn Ravielle Bebin Theros
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