Open Chronicles Night at the Wayward Rest

[Kristen Pirian]

OUTSIDE THE WAYWARD REST​

Rain poured in relentless sheets, silvery against the light of the pale moons. In defiance of the night slim orange lights from inside the Wayward Rest issued forth. The inn was one of many of its kind in the vicinity of the thin arms of land to the west and east of Alliria and its surrounding towns, situated along the well-trodden roads and servicing travelers going to and from the grand city.

But the Wayward Rest was dreadfully alone this night.

"There ain't no reason to hide," called Lorick Gamon with a smug, even gay, surety. Indeed his cheerfulness belied many things. The fact that, just behind him, one of his men held an innocent girl hostage. The fact that the entire Wayward Rest was surrounded by his large band of raiders.

"Them doors? Them windows? Those walls and that roof? They ain't gonna shelter ye for long. And there ain't nowhere to go. You're gonna have to deal with me sooner or later."

Lorick smiled wide, his teeth pressing into his lower lip. The rain fell and it bothered him not a whit.

"But I'm a nice guy. Nice and reasonable, so I tell you what! I tell...you...what. You bring all that gold and them valuables you got outside and drop it at my feet. Do that and we all walk away happy from this. Don't do that...and she dies. And not only does she die, but you all die too!"

Thunder rolled just as he said that. Lorick laughed heartily.

"Hear that? Arethil her-fuckin-self agrees with me." Lorick raked his teeth along his lip and then called out, "You all got fifteen minutes to decide."

* * * * *

INSIDE THE WAYWARD REST​

Kristen knelt in a huddle with the other patrons and the innkeep of the Rest in the (once) cozy common room. One of the windows of the common room was broken, shards of glass on the floor, rain sprinkling in through the violent opening. A dead man lay near it, crossbow bolt in the back of his head—the unfortunate man had been standing near the window, and Lorick and his band of raiders had decided to announce their presence by shooting him from the outside.

There weren't many of them, patrons of the Rest. Not many at all, for among the Rest's patrons and including the innkeep himself there counted no more souls inside than one could track with the fingers of both hands. They were outnumbered no less than three-to-one by the raiders.

"We cannot give him what he wants," said Kristen.

The innkeep, a man named Robert, said frightfully, "He has my daughter! My Morgan! She's seen but her fourteenth winter!"

"I do not intend to imperil your daughter."

Robert, beside himself and near hysterics with fear, said, "Then what can we do!?"

Kristen looked among the small gathering of patrons. Some were not fighters, this much was clear. But a number, like herself, were.

"What say you?" she said, turning her gaze to one such person.

 

[Aurelia Dunn]

Aurelia sat very still. Her breaths came slow and measured, and she stared ahead with verdant, seemingly unfocused eyes. Her heartbeat was a steady metronome against the air of fear and panic around her.

But Aurelia was afraid. She was afraid of the large, horrible man outside and the large group of equally horrible men behind him. She was afraid of what they would do to these people if they didn't get what they wanted. She was afraid of what they would try to do to her.

She had not been at the inn more than three minutes before the window had shattered, killing that poor man. She had not even lowered the hood of her traveling cloak, which was still heavy with rain. Her fire-red hair hung in wet tresses down the sides of her face, dripping to the worn rug beneath her feet. The long points of her ears were not visible.

Fourteen. That little girl was fourteen years old. Aurelia felt anger under her fear, and then anger at her fear. She clenched the fists she held in her lap, making her leather gloves squeak under the pressure.

"What say you?"

Aurelia was pulled out of her thoughts by Pirian's piercing stare. Her hair was similar in shade to Aurelia's own, but her eyes were cold and grey. Her face looked similarly icy. "Me?" She did have a large hunting knife on her belt, and had entered with a bow and quiver of arrows. But those were for animals... for food and pelts. They weren't... she had never...

Aurelia clenched her jaw, letting her anger at the bandits flare. Maybe if it burned bright enough, she would not be afraid. "I will help."

 

[John Wellington Wells]

It was John Wellington Well's luck that he had to be saddled in an inn in the city of Aillira where the place was being overrun by bandits. He could never understand why these bandits can not take the profession of being a merchant like himself. A dealer in magic and spells, blessings, curses, prophecies, witches, and knells, he had come back to Aillira to catch a break, and sell a few of his wares or two. But it would seem that the turn of events got him thinking. He would have to defend himself, and possibly others (for a small fee) with his own magic.

"What say you?" she said, turning her gaze to one such person.

He stood up, beginning to take his stance.

"If you wouldn't mind me, I got a few tricks up my sleeve". He puts on his white gloves to get ready to fight. "I won't ask much. But... No, perhaps later".

Kristen Pirian Aurelia Dunn

 

[Zahlan Amberblade]

Just when he found a spot to rest his weary feet, someone had to muck it up for everyone else. Zahlan didn’t know all of the details that led up to this point such as why was the fourteen year old daughter out in the storm anyways? His damp platinum blonde hair clung to his forehead as he had been traveling quite a ways for some time. No real destination in mind other than moving to another city or perhaps a town and seeing what needs to be done there. Little did Zahlan know that he’d find himself in need to bear arms so soon.

Fortunately, one such person rose up to the challenge against the brigands, and as her eyes turned to one of the newly arrived. A rally of arms so to speak as it inspired another individual who looked more like a merchant than a fighter, but Zahlan was not to judge of character in these circumstances. It didn’t sit well with him either that an innocent life was swept in the ruffian’s conquest for greed.

“I’m all for the heroics, love. But how do you suppose we get to the lass before they execute Plan B?” Zahlan directed the question over to Kristen as he raised a tankard of ale to his lips. Truthfully he had some ideas brewing, but he opted to leave it to someone who had already earned the people’s trust so to speak. At the very least her confidence was infectious as evident already. If nothing else, he was only voicing what crossed many fearful patrons’ minds. Particularly Robert’s.

It was without a doubt a delicate matter as not only were they likely surrounded and outnumbered. But the bandits even had a secondary safety measure of a hostage to break the wills of the common folk. A simple rush into the fray would likely end in the deaths of many, including the young girl. A crafty plan would be needed to turn the tides. Or so he thought at any rate.

Zahlan’s hand rested on the pommel of a short blade at his hip, and a leather belt strapped across his chest contained an assortment of small knives that were clearly meant to pierce rather than to cut. Beside his feet was a soaked bag that likely contained his essential gear. His hazel eyes flitted to the other two and to the outdoors before settling back to Kristen.

Kristen Pirian , Aurelia Dunn , John Wellington Wells

 

[Kristen Pirian]

I will help, said Aurelia.

And a firm nod from Kristen. "Good." In her Kristen believed she saw a similar ember, whose radiance was quiet but growing hot. That these raiders would capture and use a fourteen year old girl to achieve their end! Kristen's own ire was stoked heavily from her own dire experience, having been kidnapped in similar fashion when she was but nine years of age. Now it was that she could do for Morgan what so many brave men and women did for her at the Battle of the Blades. That Aurelia would be with her was heartening.

Better news still would come, and the will to oppose the raiders would not be limited to Kristen and Aurelia alone. The merchant (whose name was John) revealed that he was more than merely that, and with a cool confidence he suggested that he had "a few tricks" of his own. He alluded that his help wouldn't come free, but that was something which was better discussed when all was well—and Kristen had little doubt that Robert would be grateful.

Another man, Zahlan, of more silvery blond hair than the merchant, spoke then, getting right to the true heart of the matter.

"You are right. Here, we must take the utmost care in our approach. For Morgan's sake."

"But they have her!" said Robert, eyes bulging. "Listen...I've...I've got my savings stashed away. All my gold. In a chest. I-I can bring it up from the basement. We can all just...do as he says...appease the man."

Kristen had no intention of giving over her gold, even what little traveling gold she happened to have on her person. But, building off of what Robert said, though not quite in the manner he was suggesting, she said: "Feigning compliance could be an effective tactic."

She took off an insignia pinned to her cloak then. The Dreadlord insignia, signifying that she was one of Vel Anir's fearsome corps of battle-mages. Perhaps the insignia would be recognized, perhaps not, but it would be better if Lorick and his crew knew nothing of the sort about her. She pocketed the insignia.

"I have some magic at my command," Kristen said, looking from Aurelia to John to Zahlan. "Nothing which may directly protect Morgan, unfortunately, but two things which may prove useful. I can inspire fear in the raiders, perhaps paralyzing them with terror for a crucial moment. Or, I may be able to...pull Morgan to safety."

Robert looked nervous—even more so than before, it that were possible. "I-I don't know..."

Kristen paid him no heed. Not out of callousness, but because the man, overwhelmed with fear and worry, was not helpful. Instead, it would be herself, Aurelia, John, and Zahlan who could possibly extricate Morgan from her plight and ultimately fend off the raiders.

And to that end, they had to conjure a plan together, and determine everyone's place in it.

Aurelia Dunn John Wellington Wells Zahlan Amberblade

 

[Aurelia Dunn]

Aurelia felt heartened by the additional voices. One clearly of means and great confidence, the other cutting down to practicality and signaling experience.

The innkeeper’s fear was understandable. He had everything to lose if things went wrong. For a moment Aurelia wondered if they weren’t being selfish, for what was good next to a young girl’s life? Pride wouldn’t bring his daughter back if they failed.

So they couldn’t fail. Aurelia reached out and rested a gloves hand atop Robert’s arm. She could not promise Morgan’s safety. She could not promise his own safety. Aurelia abhorred liars, and she would not become one today. Yet she looked at him with such warmth, and paradoxical coolness, that she hoped he would understand. She would do everything in her power to protect the child.

He ears pricked at Kristen’s mention of magic, and she looked back in time to see her place something in her pocket.

“I am a good shot.” If they were explaining how each of them could best contribute, sharp-shooting was where Aurelia could help the most. “I can strike him from here, though with the rain and wind I would not try it while he holds the girl. Get her away from him… or bring him within thirty paces.” She pondered for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, thirty paces.”