Quest [Seasonal Quest] Blood in the water (Closed)

[Dalavesta Stalinsa]

Dalavesta Stalinsa

She ran towards the slumped figure, her breathing starting to go beyond the deep breaths of the exerted and into he more ragged breaths of one who was pushing themselves a bit further than they could handle – she had no choice really, not many were left who were able bodied. That wasn’t quite correct though, she had a choice…she could choose to leave them to suffer, and die, in their heaped positions. Despite her years in Sunberth taking the shine off of her Squire training though she just wasn’t that heartless just yet. Besides, she reflected, as one foot rolled in front of the other, heel to toe and becoming less fluid by the stride, dragging the crappy stretcher behind her, what else was she supposed to do?

“Can’t get anywhere anyway,” he panted, coming to a stop and bending down to roll the figure over – a young woman it turned out to be – and onto their back, feeling her brow with the back of her hand and finding the familiar heat of fever and the sweat of the sickness before slipping one arm under the legs and the other the arms, heaving with a strained series of grunts as she took several tries to get the woman onto the stretcher, “I swear this felt easier years ago…need to get back into training. At least they had one thing right in the ranks…physical exercise. I used to be stronger” she told the feverish new patient as if she could even hear Ves at all.

It was as she knelt down, grabbing the handles before tired, pained legs strained to push her back up to her feet that she noticed the gathering crowd. She eyed it for a while with some suspicion, wondering what other madness was about to be visited upon the Tent City, but as it seemed to remain without much conflict she shrugged and began the half-jog, half-trudge back to the medical tents. She made it eventually, though took far longer than the last trip and even the would-be medicine man there simply took the stretcher and sent her away, telling her to get some rest before she tried to help any more, before she got sick too. She had nodded dumbly and walked off after another sip from her flask, still noting the throng was still thronged.

She pursed her lips, watched for another chime or two and then wandered over slowly, pricking her ears to try to hear what was going on before getting so close as to be considered ‘part of the gathering’. She arrived within earshot just in time to hear the blustering speech from the man with the club. She crossed her arms across her chest and listened, he was passionate if crude.

Her eyes looked him up and down, taking in both the way he held the club and his easy stance…a fighter’s stance with one foot slightly ahead of the other, which was back and to the side. It was a solid stance she knew well, which meant that he knew how to survive a scrap or two at least. She wasn’t sure about the whole ‘it is being done by so and so’ part of his talking, she suspected sickness could spread just fine without help from people, but she had to concede that he was right about being shut in – if nothing got in or out for long enough then if the sickness didn’t get them then starvation and dehydration would.

Water, warmth, shelter, food…the rest. Basic requirements are basic requirements, I remember that well enough. And we’re going to be getting low after a while. Even with those that decided to go for tunnel suicide leaving their stuff behind…the survival maths don’t look good she frowned to herself, weighing her options and deciding to tag along – she could always just not turn up for this dawn raid the figure had planned. When he started holding court, she smirked to herself, it was like he was trying to be a drill master like the Knights were, but not really possessed of the same gravitas as her memories of the plate-clad ultimate authorities had seemed so many years ago.

“Any good in a fight?” he asked.

“I wear this armour and sword just for fun, but sure…I know how to fight. Looks like we need more” she said, eyeing the much smaller group of the martially adept compared to the other one for ‘supply carrying’.

If he heard her, he showed no acknowledgement, instead vanishing once everyone had been asked the question with one last portion of orders that got her back up, leaving her scowling at his back. She didn’t really need anything in terms of supplies, if it was raiding then travelling light was a good idea, but she would eventually go and fetch her backpack for looting her own things – she didn’t need anything personally, but whatever the sick could get the better. Her mind wandered and she found herself worrying about Bron, they were set to be separated for some time it seemed, even if raids and breakthroughs could happen…unless she slipped away into the city instead of heading back to the Tent City. Even as she went over that moral puzzle she hoped her partner was okay, wondering what she was up to.

“Hope you’re having a better time than me Rowen” she told herself.

“What you say?” one of the other fighter types half-grunted at her.

“I said I hope there’s more to the plan than rushing at possible weak spot…I like living”

“Don’t think we can do it?” another sneered.

“I think that getting there and back in one piece is better than losing half of everyone through shyke planning…or as much of one piece as we can get anyway. Fighting always has…collateral damage”

“Scared are ye?”

“Only of your breath” she snorted, to which a couple of the others laughed and slapped them both of the back, causing her to jerk forwards in surprise before tugging her clothing and armour back into place.

She went about checking herself, making sure everything was where she wanted it to be and that she hadn’t forgotten anything that might be needed. The wait for the next Bell or so would be a nightmare, she hated the feeling in the stomach before a fight, when you knew one was coming.


Words - 1063

[Bronwen]

Bronwen was unsure how to feel about her father's sudden appearance nor his equally as sudden departure. His words..'you should have known I wouldn’t let you go so easily,' played over and over in her mind, and Bron didn't like the way those words made her feel. Trapped. Caught. Contained. Especially now, when she needed to get to Ves. Gods, Ves!

Bron ran several steps forward, calling out her father's name. When Matrim pulled at his horse's reins, twisting in his saddle to look back at her, she said, "I have a...friend in Tent City. Ves. Dalavesta. She's a very good friend and father, I need her...I need to get to her, or can you send for her?"

Ser Matrim's jaw worked quietly as if he were biting back a different kind of reply. "No. You're better off going with Kylan right now. We will talk more about this in the morning."

Bron stared angrily at her father's armored back as his horse turned and began trotting away. Molars grinding, she spun around to see Kylan and the two other guards watching her, no doubt having heard her father's command. Bron had a sneaking realization that that command had been directed at Kylan and not her.

"Well," Bron said, marching up to Kylan, "looks like I won't be getting any type of explanation from my father now, will I?"

Bron begrudgingly followed the three knights, feeling her compliance was less a choice and more an order. Undoubtedly, if Bron were to try and leave, she would be stopped, and she couldn't help but wonder by how much force. The bigger question, though, was the why.

Bron gave Kylan an incredulous glare, "Hannah? Seriously?" Bron scoffed, shaking her head, "only if you're going to answer my questions and not just cut me off again with enough gab nonsense."

Bron waited for the Knight to reply, but after a tick of hearing nothing but the return sounds of four sets of booted feet, she sighed, "Tell me about what's going on in Tent City. Brega has had me working round the clock for days, and I've heard nothing." Bron paused, then tact on a "please" for good measure.

Kylan crinkled his nose and spat on the ground. "An infection of some sort is raging through the tent city. They're not allowing anyone out of it, and I'd recommend you stay as far away from there as possible until it has run its course. There is nothing more we can do at the moment."

Yeah, fat chance that would happen. Kylan's words only fueled Bron's desire to get to Ves faster. She'd devise a way to get free of her father's watchful servants and get to Ves. Bron only needed the right time to present itself.

"Is that why you're here?, she asked, "Why my father's here?" Bron paused, then added, "and why the aliases?"

"No, we're here because.. well, that's not really for me to say. It's for Matrim to say if he decides to say anything at all." Kylan said, sounding frustrated. "If you really must know, we received a letter from someone claiming to be Sam."

Bron stopped walking. Stopped breathing.

She turned slowly to glare at the young Knight, her storm-colored eyes narrowing to slits, hands balling into fists by her side.

"If I must know?" Bron growled, seething, "If. I. Must. Petching. Know?"

Bron launched herself at Kylan, fists already swinging, but the Knight was too fast, ducking low and stepping back out of her reach. The other two guards rushed at Bron, both grabbing an arm and holding her fast. Bron didn't fight or struggle against the hold, but she didn't lose sight of the arsehole Kylan either.

"She's my sister, you son of a whore," Bron yelled, "Yes, I must know! Tell me!"

"Know what? I just told you." Kylan snapped back. "You're lucky I even dragged you out of that brothel. If it wasn't for...you know what, never mind. You'll see for yourself shortly, and as for Sam, your father is taking care of it. Something you couldn't do in three summers." Kylan said, quickly regretting the words as they left his mouth.

The Knight's remark had Bron's lips parting on a tiny gasp that stirred the loose hair around her mouth and her eyes flaring wide. The truth in those words had the fight draining out of Bronwen as quickly as if Kylan had laid her out. Bron wished he would have. Maybe then she wouldn't have been slapped so soundly upside the head by the truth of it. Sure, Bron had thought it. She'd accused herself of it. Felt guilt over it, but to hear how badly she had failed her sister from someone else..her father's man.. was a bitter dose to swallow.

Bron jerked her arms free of the two men flanking her, giving Kylan a long, hard look until the Knight turned away to continue in the same direction they had been heading. Bron followed, scowling at herself when the other two waited until she started walking before they fell in behind her.

If there had been word from Sam, why didn't her father just say so? Why all the subterfuge and caution? And what in Rhysol's worst nightmare did this have to do with a sickness in the Tent City? Bron sighed. She needed to get to Ves. She needed some dust, too, but she shoved that thought away and walked in silence.

The further they trekked, the more pungent the familiar stench of the slag heaps became. By the time Kylan handed over his handkerchief, Bronwen's eyes had started watering from the smell. Reluctantly, she conceded to the kind gesture, snatched the cloth from the Knight's hand, pressed it to her face, and promptly staggard with a gag. She didn't know what smelled worse, burning shyke or onion and garlic scented burning shyke, but it gave the guard an idea that made her grin beneath the cloth.

As they walked, Bron gagged -loudly- several more times and let out a groan or two for good measure. By the time they reached the old tower and stood before its black splintered door, Bron thought she had played her ailing belly well enough, pretending to sway when her steps halted. Just as Kylan turned to her, she lurched forward as if to vomit, then hurried off to the side of the tower, just out of the sight of the Knights and whoever had just opened the door, coughing and gagging and making retching noises.

She continued the farse until she had moved into the dark shadows of the tower, threw down the handkerchief, and was just about to bolt when a figure stepped around the side of the tower, calling out to her. Bron took off at a full sprint toward the burning slag heap, her long legs carrying her further into darkness. She ran for all she was worth until she failed to see a limb dragged out from the underbrush of a line of trees. Bron tried to jump over the thick tree limb at the last tick but came down too soon, turned her ankle, and landed with a splat belly first in something she prayed was mud.

Climbing to her feet, Bron scanned the area behind her and, seeing no pursuit, loped off in a slower jog. Covered in mud, her ankle burning, she crouched low and tried to stay within the dark treeline when she could, especially when passing by a campsite or burning barrel. The second barrel Bron passed by, turned back, and snatched a dark brown fedora hat from the top of a shovel that had been stabbed into the dirt. Pulling her chin-length hair up, she slid the hat onto her head and took off again at a jog. With her height and now the hat, Bron looked like a man, a slightly safer way for a female to travel in Sunberth at night. Well, as safe as one could be in the lawless city.

By the time Bronwen had rounded the hot springs and ducked out of sight on the edges of Tent City, she was out of breath, covered in scratches and more mud. However, she still managed to smile when she spotted Dalavesta standing with a group of people that looked a lot like a horseless posse. As soon as those around Ves turned their attention elsewhere, Bron slid out of the shadowed tree line and stalked toward Ves, whisper yelling her name just before she slid up behind her and slipped a hand around to cover the woman's mouth. Bron wasn't sure if she needed to be so cautious, but with the way her father and his Knights had been acting, she thought it prudent.

"Shhhhhh, Esteva. It's me, it's me," she said, dropping her hand from the other woman's mouth and tugging at Ves's leather-clad shoulder until she turned enough to see Bron's finger press over her lips for quiet.

Bron nodded and motioned for her to follow, then led the way back into the treeline. As soon as they stepped into shadow, Bron grabbed Ves's face with both hands, looking her lover over carefully.

"You okay?" she said, "you're not sick, are you? I was so worried."

She didn't wait for a reply before throwing her arms around the other woman's shoulders and squeezing. Bron stepped back a moment later with a sigh and told Dalavesta all that had transpired between the time she had cleared out Brega's, including Brega's odd behavior, Kylan, reuniting with her father, his abrupt departure, her flight from the tower, and ended it with the stolen hat and seeing Ves decked out for a village raid from the treeline.

"So, yeah," Bron concluded, "Do you think we should go back to where I left Kylan and the other two Knights at the tower near the slag heaps? My father said he'd return in about," she glanced up at the moonlit sky, calculating the time, "a couple bells."

Bron watched the other woman expectantly before her eyes widened as if she had just remembered something important.

"Precious! We have to get her!" Bron said, already charging off in the direction of Ves's tent.

[Wrenlo Gravence]

Wrenlo fiddled with a candle, bringing it back to life. It was a low light but enough for him to take in the room. Every now and then he’d look behind him past the dark, out towards the light of the front of shop, where Nate and the man with the bow kept view of him. Poor Karos dead sleeping with all this mayhem surrounding. Wrenlo fully enjoyed his work here, even had praise for the Isur. There was never a cross in his mind that something like this could happen under Karos’ watch, and now Wrenlo was was being forced involvement to something he had no idea what was to come. ‘What the petch is this anyway?’ He gazed idly at the bag of chalked up dust on the work table, his hands and movement where on autopilot stirring the forge with a hot poker while the embers from today’s business where still hot and willing to fuel more. His heart sank deep in his chest fondling the idea of secretive betrayal to his boss. ‘I want to do to things right, I want my life to lack chaos.. but what choice do I have if I don’t follow these bizarre orders from these assholes? Petch..’ He didn’t have to take another glance behind him to know he still had an arrow pointed at him, ready to kill him if he didn’t obey. It was a familiar feeling in the least, one that brought him hopelessness. Too familiar to his Uncle’s death and what came of Wrenlo after. Was this his burden now? Did his luck run out after escaping the last scenario?

But there was no escaping now, he knew this. Whatever force was pulling him into this bad business, Wrenlo knew there was an end plan for him. But what? Soon he would have to leave this shitehole city. If he wanted a better life than this, he’d have to plan for it. But right now, he had to take his chances for survival. The bag caressed his palm as he held it over the embers, it wanted to sink between his fingers. With the other hand he pinched a bit of the gray dust between his fingers and flicked it into the forge, testing the reaction of the product. He noticed a small hue to the flame, but not much of a difference or smell. Wrenlo ripped the bag open wide with both hands this time and chalked dust spewed out. It immediately ignited, almost scorching the palms of his hands. He took a large step back from the heat of the forge, and it flickered odd colors at him, almost taunting him in his bitter mind.

”Its done.” Wrenlo came out from the darkness of the back room, empty bag held out for Nate to inspect. The wild fool looked pleased and turned to scamper the alley boys out of the building before taking Karos’ keys off his sleeping body. Wrenlo was quick to follow Nate and the man out, deeply praying the gods Karos would forgive his lack of power to fight against these men who where holding him hostage, even with his battleaxe held close. Once the Armory’s door was locked shut Wrenlo did what he was best at; turning numb and cold to the world around him. At least the grumpy Isur was unharmed.

The streets at night where dead yet craving, compared to the masses of the bustling daylight. There was no safe time or place in Sunberth, but the nightlife was generally drug fueled and even more haphazardly. Wrenlo did everything he could to drown out Nate’s constant rambling while they crossed through the Seaside Market, almost admiring the unknown man for being so silent in his cause. Casinors where floating about the Western bend, still celebrating and drunken with pride. Nate, who always seemed so oblivious of his own weaknesses but covered it in cockiness with lack of common smarts, was bringing the wrong attention to the three of them by calling out the booze-fueled Svefra during their low time of business. Wrenlo shook his head, almost laughing with a very low tone, ”We’re really getting places with your mouth running about,” the man was side by side with him and Wrenlo had no doubt he heard his sarcastic remark, but Nate didn’t and kept rambling insults about the sailors while leading them ahead.

And just as Wrenlo dreamt it to himself, one of the Svefra crew played ‘here fishy fishy’ with the mouthy shitehead, throwing a lead of rope around Nate and started dragging him out to murky waters. He was shocked, almost, with mouth slightly gapped as he watched Nate wrangle tirelessly to escape with no prevail. The more he screamed, the more Wrenlo’s smile appeared in pleasure. His only despairing thought was that he was not quick enough to take the blade from off his body during the kidnap. He was oogling the scene in awe before the man grabbed him by the elbow and led him off the opposite way. “But I was enjoying the show!” Wrenlo gave a hearty cackle before trailing off with the man and his new plan for the two of them.

[Anomaly]

It was towards twilight when it started raining over the tent city. People cursed and hustled to get under what cover they could, knowing this shower wouldn’t last long. They never did during the summer. Just enough to get the ground muddy and slick underfoot. Many of those whom had been gathered were concerened about what this meant for their plan of attack, but quietly assurances were made that the plan was still on, and that the rain changed nothing.

Despite this, the group that would be supposedly doing the attacking got smaller with its members drifting off a few at a time until there were perhaps ten of them left. Strangely the de-facto leader of this group didn’t seem to be discouraged about this, and didn’t even try to keep any of them from leaving. Neither did he call it off, even when one woman dragged another away from the group leaving the attacking group at nine.

The tent city itself was a mess on a good day. Tonight it was positively chaotic with more than a few people stretched out on the narrow paths that wound between the tents. In an odd way they were reminiscent of the streets within Sunberth, with little rhyme or reason to them, often leading to dead ends or looping about endlessly for those not use to navigating this ever changing cluster of humanity. It was surprising to the average Sunberthian living in the city how people managed to live hear for so long without cutting each other’s throats or getting everything stolen out from under them and the bitter truth was that did happen, but not nearly as often as they might expect. This was because the residents of the tent city over the years had formed a quasi gang of their own, and neighbors tended to look out for one another because that was the only way such a community could survive for this long. Egregious crimes tended to get punished severely by the community as a whole if they threatened the fabric of what they had created here with their little society on the edge of the city. At least, that was the case until tonight.

Fortunately for Bronwen and Dalavesta, no one had tried to loot the tent city yet, but it was only a matter of time before someone decided that it was worth the risk. An chance blew something a little extra their way. A tiny scrap of paper that practically fluttered into their tent moments before they returned to it to retrieve Precious. It landed open to a small drawing that looked to have been made on the corner of a piece of parchment before it had been summarily ripped off.





Aside from the scrap of paper, their tent was mostly undisturbed and Precious bound for the scrap of paper, only to be caught before it could reach its prize. Mewling pitifully, it made a futile attempt at escape before taking to nibbling fingers while Bronwen and Dalvesta decided what to do next.

* * * * *

Elsewhere, the man now guiding Wrenlo along remained silent as he lead them back towards the river much further north than their initial crossing. He didn’t bother trying to hail a Svefra this time, instead he walked down the steep muddy bank with Wrenlo in to until they were standing about ankle deep in muddy river water. It was dark, darker than it had even been moments ago as a cloud drifted in front of the silver moon, obscuring them on the bank and making the river black as pitch.

“I don’t suppose you can swim.” The man joked before cupping a hand around his mouth. He made a rudimentary bird call that was answered ticks later on the far bank by what sounded like a warble that continued as it drifted closer to them. Then Wrenlo would see it as the small boat drifted out of the gloom over the water towards them, slowly being pushed along by a man wielding a long pole.

Together they boarded silently, the man making Wrenlo get in first before taking a seat behind him. He had put away his bow in favor of drawing a long dagger that he let rest idly across his lap, the threat obvious. Of course neither men said a word as they made their way quickly across the river, eventually pulling up onto the far bank. Again the man made Wrenlo be the first to depart before walking up onto the bank himself and climbing up it until they were between two wooden shacks that were slightly raised off of the ground.

Grabbing Wrenlo by the elbow, he walked them between the houses until they came out onto a narrow lane that opened up towards the outskirts on their right while to their left the houses piled against one another. He took them to the left, although he remained near the sparser edge of the northwestern side of the city. Not only was it easier to maneuver with the wider lanes this section of the city afforded, there were also not that many people about at this hour with most of the popular establishments on the other side of the river or behind the walls of the gated community. Walls that could be seen even now if Wrenlo looked over to his left to see them just barely peaking over the rows of tenements.

The man lead Wrenlo along at a swift pace, confidently taking one lane after another down mostly quiet streets. Eventually after a few more chimes they neared their goal, and the smell of the burning slag heap grew even stronger as they did. Here the houses were almost as poorly constructed as the ones you found stacked on top of each other in the Sunset Quarter because the residents that gave a petch had long since moved away from the stench which was particularly concentrated in this area. Those that remained were those too poor or too stubborn to move, and absolutely no one was lingering outside to have a chat.

They took a right out onto a narrow lane that opened out towards a small stone tower in the distance, glimmering darkly from torch light within. Quickly they headed straight for it, and for the first time the man faltered as he spotted three cloaked figures at the tower’s base. Hesitantly, he started pulling Wrenlo back towards the tower with him while he hid flipped the dagger so that he was now holding it underhanded. If they took notice of their approach, the three figures didn’t let on about it as Wrenlo would soon come to see that it was a man and two women loitering about at the base of the tower. All of them were armed with longswords, and underneath their dark cloaks they clearly wore studded leather armor.

Then the door to the tower opened, drawing a look from everyone present as a slim figure beckoned them into the tower. The three figures went in first, followed by the man and Wrenlo. At the door, the man pulled out his necklace that had a small coin hanging off of it, and held it out briefly for inspection by the woman at the door who quickly welcomed them inside, shutting the door behind them. Within two long wooden benches hand been arranged in front of a hearth that was crackling away merrily, suffusing the room with plenty of light to see by.

The room itself was remarkably plain and rather small with the heart across from the door they had just entered through. To the right of the hearth was another door, and to the right of that was a small staircase that lead further up into the tower. The walls of this room were unadorned, the stone unremarkable save for the even gaps in the hearth wall that were spaced in a neat row directly above the crackling fire. Because of the light from the hearth it was difficult to see anything through those gaps aside from inky darkness which seemed to make the trio uncomfortable as they took their seats on one of the benches.

Nudging Wrenlo, the man guided them over to the bench across from the trio before disappearing with the woman upstairs. Each of the trio gave him a strange look as he sat down but said nothing as they waited for the woman to come back down the stairs.

[Wrenlo Gravence]

The pungent stench of Slag Heap was catching up to his long and deep breathing even if this man pulled faster on Wrenlo’s elbow. He could feel his lungs wanting to collapse inside his chest, the fumes where heavy and his nose was on fire with lingering rancid smells. Gods forbid what this chemical shite might actually do to his body after airborne ingestion. He’d lived here his whole life as he knew it and never found any good reason to be on this side of the city, all for the sake of the smell of this heaping pile of eternally burning fuel. He never slowed his pace though, keeping up footing with the man as they edged closer towards the West Tower.

In a fleeting moment the man was hesitant, the two of them bordering close with three figures standing out front of the entry all armored under their cloaks and carrying longswords. Wrenlo pulled his elbow from the man’s grip in that moment, and adjusted his axe from right shoulder to his left and proceeded ahead of him. The door opened and he stopped short just before the group, allowing the man to give entry for them both. Observing the significance of the coin he carried around his neck as he pulled it out from hiding to specifically show the woman who stood in the doorway, the other three where waiting entry as well. A brunette in gray cloak who had brown eyes behind slits that stared at him distantly before beckoning them all in. He felt out of place, and it was very prominent that he was the outcast of this initiation. The three entered in, followed by Wrenlo and the man.

Inside, Wrenlo considered cozy even in it’s unadorned and bleak stone walls. The hearth still attached and funneling warmth throughout. There, two wood benches parallel from each other in front of the fire. The trio found their seats together on one, and Wrenlo was nudged to sit on the other across. Thighs spanned out in adjustment when he sat, laying the axe across the tops of them while forearms rested against the long handle of his weapon, Leaning over slightly in a hunch. More uncomfortable looks from the three that he could not turn away from so he gave his best indifferent glare with a stiff lined lip while waiting for the man that brought him here to come back down the stairs with the brunette woman. All was silent on the bottom floor of the tower but the crackling from the hearth and soft ruffling of their cloaks during bits of fidgeting here and there. Time seemed to stand still in this closed room while Wrenlo sat guarding his expression of emotions, quite curious what he had been dragged into. No gang in Sunberth is worth a reckoning with, but the Night Eyes where very quiet and secretive compared to the rest. It was confusing as to why they’d need a Weaponsmith to dig up a rock. He let his mind trail even though his eyes never stopped taking in the room and the people around him.

[Bronwen]

Precious batted at the torn edges of the small piece of parchment Bron held in her hand while she tried to make out the crude drawing etched onto it. Frowning, she glanced up at Ves standing over her and held up the small piece of paper for her scrutiny.

"What do you think it means," she asked, straightening to her feet, smiling when the kitten's back bowed, and her tail fluffed, bristling at Bron's unexpected movement. "It looks kind of like a map," Bron said, tracing the rudimentary outline of what looked to be a tent over to what may have been a pile of large rocks drawn on the paper, "that surely can't be this tent," she frowned, "maybe it represents Tent City? I have an idea of what a crank is, but, "she pointed to the words written on the bottom edge of the parchment, "what do you suppose 'in the thrushes' means. What's a thrush, anyway?"

Bron had no clue what 'thrushes' could mean. She knew of a bird called a thrush, but aside from that, she was at a loss.

"These lines.' Bron pointed to the three lines separating the tent from the rocks, "looks a lot like these lines," her finger traced over the paper's surface to similar lines drawn beneath the words. "Could they mean different distances?"

Bron let out a long, frustrated sigh and scrubbed a hand down her face, "only one way to find out," she said, plucking the paper from Ves's fingers, "let's see if we can find this crank in the thrushes."

Precious made a horrible noise of protest -something like a meow, growl, and hiss all mixed together- when Bron picked her up and sat her on a shoulder. The tiny white kitten had taken a liking to ride on Bron or Dalavesta's shoulder, and she would surprisingly stay put, barring neither one of them making any sudden movement, or gods forbid, faceplanting...again.

Bron led the way from the tent, with Ves trailing after and Precious perched on a shoulder. Pulling the flap down, Bron tied it closed, then stood and glanced around, seeing nothing but tents piled on top of tents. So, to Bron, not seeing anything resembling the rock formation meant the crank had to be outside Tent City and not too far if she was reading the drawing correctly.

They traced back the way the guard had come, rounding burning barrels and several cook fires. Stepping from the line of dirty, collapsed tents, Bron glanced down at the paper, then out to her left, then to the paper again. Mumbling something intelligible, she huffed resignedly, turned left, and started walking.

After passing what had to have been the third heap of old clothes, discarded bedrolls, food containers, and rotten food buzzing with thousands of flies, Bron turned a disgusted look on Ves.

"You don't reckon 'thrushes' is another word for trash pile, do you?" Bron said, "I don't think I want to dig around in that." she added, nose wrinkling when she nodded at the obvious place everyone dumped their household waste. She scowled. Bodily waste, too. Bron let her gaze stray to the area behind the small mountain of trash nearly hidden by a cloud of black flies. Through a break in all the buzzing insects, she spotted what might be the rough surface of a large rock and rounded the trash for a better look.

It was, in fact, a big rock that had been nearly overtaken by weeds and a sizeable thorny bush. Handing over Precious to Ves, Bron pulled her way through the large splinters and scaled the rock, going to hands and knees once on the top to peer over its side.

Bron could just make out something hidden beneath a nest of thorns, slightly wedged under a smaller rock. She reached for it and promptly toppled off the rock.

"Shyke! Petching petch!" Bron cursed as thorns sunk into her arms and the palms of her hands.

Righting herself, she gently divested her wrist of one rather large briar that more resembled a blasted spike and slowly took stock of her condition. Aside from the stinging in her arms and hands, something very sharp was poking her asscheek. Grabbing hold of the side of the rock she had abruptly vacated, Bron pulled herself up enough to spin around and frowned at a barely noticeable drawing of what looked to be two birds...petching. Two thrushes were petching each other!!

Bron scowled at the drawing.

"I think I found the crank. If it's a well pulley crank thing we're looking for," she called out, wincing as she rubbed a hand down her backside, "and one of its nails found my ass."

[Anomaly]

Bronwen & Dalavesta


The crank was an ugly piece of pitted black metal and rusted to shite to boot. Once the thorny bush was cleared away, the mechanism still resisted mightily, making an odd sort of grinding noise that carried past the large rock in front of them. It would take both of them holding onto its handle and giving it a sharp twist to eventually get it to slide forwards which only made the grinding noise grow even louder as a large iron wagon wheel turned to emerge from the thin layer of dirt and grass near the top of the crank. As it turned the rock moved as well, slowly dragging its way across the ground as they drew it in. It made a sound like heavy stone dragging on stone and pretty soon the why of that would become clear as the more they twisted the crank, the further the rock moved until finally a square hole was revealed with a wooden ladder leading down into the darkness.

It appeared to be a well built hole at first glance, although all they could see initially were the border stones that framed the hole that was big enough for a large man to go down into. Over the top of said hole was a metal grate which was likewise rusted over. There had also been a padlock there to secure it, except now it was scattered in pieces across the top of the grate, the movement of the rock having ripped it apart. With a little bit of light they would be able to easily see within, and make out that the hole lead into a small stone room, roughly rectangular in shape. The ladder was a little over fifteen feet long, and standing in the room it might feel a little cramped for someone as tall as Bronwen was as the ceiling was a mere seven feet off of the ground while the room itself was roughly twenty feet long, and ten feet wide. The walls and floor were all made of mortared stone giving a general sense of conformity to the walls, celling and floor.

Towards the far back of the room there was a medium sized cot complete with a thatched stuffed mattress and two similarly stuffed pillows, covered in a light gray fabric that looked mostly clean. As did the small wool blanket laid across the cot, and the rest of the room for that matter. On the right side, hugging the walls was a line of shelves carrying neatly labeled goods, mostly dried food stuff and travel necessities. On the top row were small bricks of pemmican, followed by small clay discus that supposedly contained preserved fruits. Underneath that row were camping supplies, a rolled up one person tent, a bedroll, and everything one would need to start a fire. That equipment took up most of the rest of the space on the shelves not used by the food. Beside these shelves where two water barrels, with a couple of tankards and a ladle on top of them. In the corners of the room if they looked carefully they could see slanted ducts lead out to the surface. They were too small to get anything but a hand through, or maybe an ambitious kitten.

All in all the small room was tidy, and well kept, but a bit cramped for two people to move comfortably within it. Bronwen would be constantly stepping around each other to get anywhere within the room which didn’t have anything adorning the walls except for a small map above the cot that appeared to be a rough drawing of Sunberth. Outside, a horn sounded off distantly, barely heard from within the hole they were in.

* * * * *


Wrenlo

The woman from before came down the stairs with a man clad in full plate, his tabard bearing the insignia of an old oak stitched in silver thread on a black background. Like the trio, he wore a longsword on his belt, and carried a iron buckler in his left hand. He had a plain, squashed face set with small black eyes and a wide mouth. His hair was black, cut short with a sharply defined widow’s peak. His eyes where hard when they looked over Wrenlo but softened immediately when they reached the trio.

For their part, the trio hastily stood at attention as the turned as one to see who was coming down the steps. After bowing slightly, the man in the middle cleared his throat. “Ser Flint, I can’t stress enough how good it is to see a friendly face in these parts.” The man said quickly.

Flint smiled, and greeted each of the trio with a brusque handshake. “Its good to see you all, especially you Kylan. I hope to be out of this wretched hole as soon as possible.” He said quickly, his friendly expression giving way to slight confusion as he realized something. “Where’s Matrim’s daughter? I thought she was supposed to be here.”

Kylan looked down at his feet briefly and shook his head. “I’m afraid she insisted on taking care of business in the tent city. She ran away from us, and I had orders from Matrim to not chase her too far if she attempted such a thing.” Kylan admitted.

Flint took that in for a moment taking in a deep breath before forcing a smile. “No matter, me and Matrim figured she might do such a thing. We’ve got a few men in the tent city that will look after her. You did what you were supposed to do Kylan.” Flint said, giving Kylan’s shoulder a little squeeze before looking at the other two then beyond them towards Wrenlo whom he studied for a long moment before looking over at the small brown haired woman who had let them all in.

“Are we ready?” Flint asked in a tone that seemed a little too nonchalant given their circumstances. The woman gave a small nod and gestured towards the door in the back of the room. “Well we don’t have all night so we better get to it. Follow me.” He said, leading the way through the door that opened out onto a spiral staircase that wrapped around a stone pillar. It was fairly dark here, but only for a short while before light from the room below filled the staircase and they walked out into a small room with a dirt floor but stone walls and ceiling. Towards the back of this room as a hearth that was busy crackling away, filling the room with a warm ruddy glow. Taking up most of the space in the room was a long wooden table with several chairs along either side.

Along the left hand wall were two wooden doors while on the right hand side there were three, one emanating light from underneath it. The room itself of course smelled mostly like smoke but was apparently well ventilated because no one had trouble breathing, not even Ser Flint in his heavy plate. Ser Flint sat on the right side of the table along with the trio that had come in before Wrenlo. Wrenlo was guided to sit beside the woman whom had let them in, while the man who had brought him sat on the other side of Wrenlo.

When they were all seated, Flint stood up. “Okay Tabree. Bring him in. Lets get this over with. Matrim will be here any moment.” The woman beside Wrenlo nodded, but didn’t get up as a door behind the night opened and a lanky man with long brown hair shambled out with a tray of drinks along with a large loaf of bread. Flint rolled his eyes but sat down as the man went around the table placing tankards in front of everyone before setting the loaf of bread down in the middle of the table. The tankards were filled with a sweet smelling ale while the bread looked like it had been left out for a day too long. Despite this fact Flint was the first to reach for the bread, tearing off a piece of the heel before handing it down to Kylan who gave him an odd look.

“Just do it.” Flint said, stuffing his mouth with the piece of bread and hastily swallowing it down. Down the line it went with everyone breaking off a piece and struggling to swallow the really dry, and strangely salty piece of bread until it reached Wrenlo. As it did the man beside him leaned over slightly as Flint started ribbing Kylan loudly for still not finishing his piece of bread.

“Eat the bread, but do not drink from the tankard. Just pretend to do so.” He advised softly as he leaned back to sit in his chair and take his own piece of bread when Wrenlo had picked off his. When everyone had taken their part, the lanky man with long hair sat down at the end of the table. He seemed to be a particularly nervous sort with pale blue eyes that constantly darted about the room, as his hands fidgeted furtively in his lap. The man looked everywhere but at the people assembled in the room, almost as if he were trying to pointedly ignore they were even there. This seemed to frustrate Ser Flint who pounded the table with his fist, nearly knocking over the tankard he hadn’t touched yet. The man nearly jumped out of his skin at this action and froze as he looked at Ser Flint who was staring daggers.

“Out with it Graelyn. We haven’t got all night.” Flint groused.

“O-O-O-okay. Well I went to the drag-g-g-goons just as you asked and-d-d.. And well um, I- I’m pretty sure she’s there.” Graelyn stumbled.

“She’s where Graelyn? I asked you to check quite a few places last I recall.”

“Und-d-d-d- under the barracks ser. They’ve got her in the tunnels.” Graelyn said quietly, looking down at his lap.

Flint nodded and stood up. “Ferri.”

“Yes ser?” One of the women asked as she stood up. With her hood no longer up, Wrenlo could see that she was a short woman with her blond hair tied into a bun.

“I need you to meet Matrim with this news on the run. Here this will aid you. Celine prepared it.” Ser Flint said as he held out a small glass vial towards the woman. It appeared to be filled with a small amount of amber liquid that glittered darkly off the light from the fireplace. Ferri nodded seriously as she took the vial from him, then turned to the two others nodding slight before she set off for the stairs with haste. As she left Flint sat back down, turning as he did towards Wrenlo whom he fixed with the same stare he’d favored him with earlier.

The lanky man stood up from his end of the table to gather the empty tankards from Kylan and the other woman before going around the room to collect the rest and depart though the door he had come in from. Meanwhile the man beside Wrenlo cleared his throat.

“Satisfied Flint?” He asked in a low voice.

“That’s Ser Flint to you guttershite.” Kylan said abruptly before covering a cough into his elbow.

“Mind your tongue Ser Kylan.” Ser Flint said sourly, his eyes finally leaving Wrenlo as they flicked over to the man that sat across from him. “Who cares what these locals have to say anyways.” As he said that a hint of a smile played on his face that quickly disappeared as he looked over at Kylan who was still coughing. “You alright boy? Go over and get some water.”

Chagrined Kylan did just that, standing up and wavering for a moment before he started walking over towards a small water barrel that sat in the corner. The woman beside Kylan looked up at him concerned then over at Flint, opening her mouth to say something but Flint spoke over whatever she said.

“I’ll be satisfied when they find Ser Matrim’s daughter and not a moment before. You sure Graelyn is the best man for the job?” Ser Flint said loudly to speak over Kylan continuing to cough in the corner. The woman anxious and tense stood up to go check on him. Before she reached him however, Kylan slumped over the barrel slurring something. Perturbed, the woman drew her longsword then staggered as a bolt hit her in the side causing her to fall into the wall beside the hearth as she gasped to catch her breath. Kylan twisted around to look over at her in horror before he started slurring something intelligible and fell onto the ground as he walked away from the barrel.

Ser Flint just sighed heavily as he looked at the man who had shot her. The man who happened to be standing beside Wrenlo. Standing up slowly, Ser Flint turned towards the pair in the corner shaking his head as he clenched his fists. “I told you I didn’t want either of them killed.” Ser Flint said.

“Your lady over there poured out her drink. The man should be fine in the morning, though he did eat quite a bit of that bread.” The man said, chuckling and a spasm of annoyance passed over Ser Flint’s features.

“I- I don’t understand. Why even do this?” Ser Flint asked, frustrated and with a hint of fear in his tone.

“You ask a lot of questions for someone with a meeting to get to.” The man replied in an even tone as he winched his crossbow back, and set a new bolt in place. “Go on. Run on little Ser.”

For a moment Ser Flint looked like he was about to draw that longsword of his and take a swing at the three left standing in the room, but then his shoulders sagged in defeat as he continued to look upon the woman whom was now starting to cough up blood as she tried to say something to Ser Flint. He shook his head sadly and then stormed out of the room, his heavy plated boots echoing up the stairs as Tabree walked over to the woman gurgling on the ground. The woman for her part tried to take a weak swing at Tabree but the longsword fell out of her hands when Tabree caught her wrist. Shushing her with a quiet whispered, Tabree pulled out a long dagger and cut open the woman’s neck. There was a brief gasp as the woman shuddered then lay very still where she was slumped against the wall. Tabree slowly closed her eyes, and then standing up started to drag the woman by her heels towards a door that was behind Wrenlo.

While that was happening the door across from him opened and Graelyn walked through, smiling confidently. He looked over at Kylan curled in the corner on the floor, then over at the man beside Wrenlo, then finally at Wrenlo himself.

“Sorry to keep you waiting Wrenlo. Its been a busy night as you can imagine.” Graelyn said, then looking at the man beside Wrenlo. “Where is Nate by the way?”

The man chuckled. “Got himself hooked by a Svefra. We won’t be seeing anymore of him fortunately.”

Graelyn sighed, looking seemingly distraught for a moment before smiling slightly. “Suppose he got off light compared to what I was going to do to him for almost botching everything.” Graelyn looked back at Wrenlo. “Nate was a useful fool, but more the fool in the end. His little visit to the armory was unsanctioned, and to be honest you weren’t supposed to be brought in for another few seasons and certainly not in so crude a fashion. To think we spent years getting you that position, then biding our time for the right moment only for Nate to go and petch it up. Alas, at least the solution is an easy one.” Graelyn said as he walked around the table slowly and took a seat beside Wrenlo. Tabree came back into the room and started dragging Kylan into the room she had taken the other woman.

“You see Wrenlo, we need an asset in the Knights Armory for obvious reasons, but we don’t need you now if you catch my meaning. I mean it would be great to have you one board with everything, but I would hardly expect such commitment and honestly would be a little suspicious if you tried. So I want you to undo the damage Nate has done, which fortunately for us both is an easy fix. First, you are going to clean out that forge, and I mean properly clean it out, shut it down for a little while and scrape it clean. If you do that Karos should have no problems fulfilling that order of longswords he got from the Sun’s Birth, and he’ll be none the wiser to your complicity in tonights events. In return for you doing this small favor for us, I promise you are cut free of any obligation to our organization, and indeed we will never contact you again unless you approach us through the Rookery.

I prefer my members to be voluntary and competent you see, and well, I can’t trust someone who has been pressed into service the way you have. We had a rather long game at work to eventually draw you in, but that’s all moot now after what Nate has done. So, well, that’s it. You’re free to live your life as you see fit, but I suppose it goes without saying if anything about what happens tonight leaks that Karos might suddenly become informed about the dubious origins of your employment.” Graelyn said, patting the top of Wrenlo’s hand as his face twisted into a grin.

“So our friend- Karos here will take you back to wherever you wish to go to make sure you make it safely. After that, our business is done. You don’t have to worry about us running into you ever again, unless that is I can convince you to come work for us.” Graelyn said, trading an amused look with Karos. “Though that is all in the future. For now, I’ve got business to attend to, and guests to host. Best of luck on your journey Wrenlo.” At that Graelyn stood up from the table and walked over to the hearth to stand in front of it while Karos tugged on his elbow.

“Lets get going Wrenlo. It’ll be morning soon and I suppose you’ll want to catch some sleep.” Karos said, guiding Wrenlo from the room and up the staircase.

[Wrenlo Gravence]

The tower was quite large compared to his imagination of it. Wrenlo noted all the details of the first floor, Glancing behind him to the exit out before following in a shuffled line down the stairwell. It seemed very odd in circumstances for him to be surrounded by knights within Night Eyes territory.

Wrenlo was stationed at the table among the three outsiders from across while in between the man who had brought him here and the woman who guided them in. He felt parried as a silent and observant doll while the two parties went about conduct in a demeanor that made Wrenlo wary from every angle. He had many questions and none of which he was willing to ask, while making notes of how to not be the stupid bull corralling in for slaughter much like Ser Flint and Kylan where reaching quickly to find. Maybe it was the Sunberthian lifestyle Wrenlo had grown to know well, to think twice and never trust first. When bread and ale where served out as favor from a timid and shaken up man it only brought his gut feelings to life. The personality felt much too out of place for the setting that was crumbling before him. Wrenlo toyed with the passing loaf before the man beside him while heeding to his whispers of warning unnoticed from the trio across the table, then ripped a small piece off and gave the man the last bit. He chewed the bread and swallowed dryly before bringing the mug up to just barely press against his lips, the sweet smell not as pleasant as he would imagine a fresh drink before him after work. He truly wanted a beer for the stress and not a poisonous death.

The nervousness of Graelyn irritated Flint and his hand slammed down to shake the table. They discussed more about the Matrim’s daughter and Wrenlo wondered what was so important about this poor girl who probably wanted nothing more than long distance from her so-called militant father. These people where demanding and self righteous to Matrim’s cause, much like he would expect from the call of knightlyhood subordinates. Flint was now narrowing his beady eyes and Wrenlo met his with a cold stare, still as silent and unmoved since he first wandered into this situation. The man beside Wrenlo broke the small silence there and quickly received a nip from Flint’s head hound Kylan. The coughing cued next and Wrenlo was positive whatever was roofied into the ale surely caught up by now. He waited for Flint to start a reaction but never noticed him take a swig during tonight’s meeting. The womanly knight was completely leery, in good right, and paced to her sick counterpart. It took only a few chimes before he was mostly slump and she wrangled her sword from her belt in pivot only to be met with an arrow in the side.

The show was quite theatrical as he watched both Flint’s men fall and he was left to walk alone in shame. Was the Information worth all the hassle? Wrenlo’s arms now crossed when his mind wandered the thought, idly watching the female who was once sitting next to him now drag the dead female around the table and through the door behind him. Graelyn came out from the door ahead of him in a whole new attitude, walking and talking like a boss of sorts. Wrenlo raised his brow but kept an indifferent expression as he spoke, not wanting to waver his feelings before the group. He spoke often of Wrenlo as a planted forthcoming member and it was very difficult for him to wrap his head around. The small niceties of his work and life coming short like that of a breeded pet. Since when did he make this step in his livelihood? He only had the love to create with his hands and saw nothing more than his own choices and determination to get where he was. It was a scary place to be talked about for so long and never knowing who was puppeteering behind the masses. It was hard to swallow the information and his mouth was still dry and tacky from the bit of bread.

When Graelyn was finished, the man with the bow stood up with a hand out to take Wrenlo’s arm and guide him back home. He had been silent for so long he forgot he had a voice of his own. “I appreciate the courtesy, thank you again for the grub and entertainment,” Granted he worried the amount of bread he’d eaten would come to knock him off his feet soon, his mind worked hard to manifest the odds of walking out of here unscathed and well breathing. When he stood to take a walk with the same man, he gave a lighthearted gesture to Graelyn on his way out. ”I’m only saddened Nate gave word there was bit of coin involved for a treasure hunt, obviously that was not the case. Hopefully next time I’m requested there’s more value to my time and efforts.”

　 ✗ 　853 words

[Bronwen]

With Dalavesta's help, Bronwen was able to turn the crank, and slowly, a rock that the guard thought looked to be firmly planted into the dirt began to move. She looked curiously at Ves when the grinding noise escalated, filling the air around them. The rusted old crank came to a grinding halt, and the two females were left staring down at an equally rusted grate laying across a hole, with nothing but a wooden latter, disappearing into the blackness beyond the pit's opening. Bron frowned and glanced up at Ves.

"I can't see anything. Can you?" Bron asked, then, standing abruptly, said, "Be right back."

Bron picked her way around several smaller rocks to avoid the briars and rounded the large bolder, walking back toward a line of tents they had passed by earlier where there had been a lone barrel burning. Bron remembered that there had been at least three unlit torches propped against the barrel, and thankfully they were still there. The outskirts of Tent City was oddly quiet, even for it being late evening, making the guard feel uneasy.

Grabbing the closest torch, Bron dipped its end into the fire until she was sure the flame caught, then hurried back in a crouched run the way she had come. It was never a bad idea to be cautious in Sunberth, but Kylan's earlier careful and alert behavior had Bron doubling her efforts. Something was amiss. Bronwen could nearly taste it in the air.

Following her path back around the boulder, Bron slid back in beside Ves and grinned, "Remembered passing by it earlier."

Lifting the grate, Bron thrust the end of the torch into the mouth of the hole and gasped when a small, stocked bunker was illuminated. Bron turned wide eyes back to Ves, both eyebrows shooting up, "What do you make of this?" Turning her gaze to the underground room, Bron waved the light back and forth, squinting to make out the corners and walls hidden in shadow. "It looks stocked for days, maybe even a week," she shook her head and stood, passing Ves the torch, "hand this to me when I climb down."

Bron descended the latter slowly, jumping the last couple of rungs, and landed on the bunker's floor in a dust cloud. Lifting her hand, she caught the torch when Ves tossed it down to her, then spun about to inspect the nearest wall of cans, boxes, and small barrels as Ves descended the stairs and squeezed in behind her. The small space made for a dangerous torch when Bron turned and nearly caught her lover's hair aflame.

"Sorry," Bron said sheepishly, guiltily patting down Ves's singed tresses, "do you see any lanterns or candles? It's too small of an area for torches, I think." she grinned, "or for me to have a torch, anyway."

They ended up finding a small oil lamp and lit it with the flames of the torch, then doused the torch. Precious, in the meantime, had found a small burlap sack on a low table and was currently pulling out a small piece of what looked to be jerky. Perhaps beef, hopefully, beef, but in Sunberth, it very well could have been brat meat. Bron wrinkled her nose down at the kitten, reaching for the mystery meat, and got a hiss and a scratch across the top of her hand for her trouble. She let Precious keep her prize.

"Either this place is stocked fairly recently, or someone has been living down here recently," Bron pointed out, plucking a jar of green beans off a dusty shelf, examining it dubiously, before replacing it and turning toward the map above the cot.

"It almost reminds you of a place where an escaping slave might take refuge and stock up for their flight, doesn't it?" Just then, the dull sound of a horn blast sounded off in the distance outside the bunker. Bron turned to look up at the hole and to the dark, star-spotted sky beyond before glancing at Ves with a frown, "Would that be that group you were joining amassing for a charge?"

Bron crossed the small distance to the latter and climbed up, stepping back into the night, peering around for any sign of what the horn meant. Nothing. The area they were in was as still as death. Squatting, she squinted back down into the hole.

"I don't like this, Asteva," Bron called, "Something's going on. Maybe I should head back to the tower and see if my father is back."

Bron stood, glancing in that direction, thinking hard. Could they have found Sam? Was that why someone blew the horn? It didn't sound like any horns Bronwen had ever heard in Syliras, but that wasn't saying much.

Bron squatted back down by the hole, "I'll be right back," she said and was gone before Ves could protest, skirting along the edge of the forest that butted up against the back end of Tent City, trailing the path she had thought maybe the blast of the horn had come from. Bron wouldn't leave Ves and go back to the tower without her, but if she could just get a close enough look through an opening in the tents, maybe she could figure out what the petch was going on.

[Anomaly]

While Wrenlo was being escorted from the West tower, and Bron was simultaneously investigating the commotion back at the safe house things were decidedly not going to plan as an iron grate slapped over the opening, and then before Ves could even look at the top of the hole a large, heavy object was slid into place over the grate, plunging the room into darkness save for anything Ves had lit. Then there was nothing, a virtual absence of sound save for the faint whisper of wind through the small vents that had been build into the corners of the room. It wasn’t a lot for such a confined space, but it was enough for Ves and the kitten to subsist on provided she didn’t try to do anything strenuous.

Meanwhile, Wrenlo was brought back to the forge where he found Karos more or less how he had been left although he required the man to open the door for him in order to get in. The stranger didn’t say much on the journey, and left Wrenlo to his own devices without so much as another word, perhaps eager to put this night behind them. Of course Karos would wake up the next morning with a splitting headache and have his own questions about that night, but how that was handled depended entirely on what Wrenlo chose to share with him.

For Bronwen, creeping in the bush, the night had something else in store for her. For the Eyes this night were many, and more than a few were watching her. Keeping tabs on her activity, and they had been very interested with the choices she had made so far. Unfortunately, this latest one couldn’t be allowed to come to fruition so something had to be done before the girl strayed too far from the path that had been set out for her.

There was a creak, the faint snap of a twig then something hard hit the base of her skull, pitching her forward in the grass. Then she saw him, out of the corner of her eyes, standing resplendent in plate metal. Matrim Druva. His expression was pained. Sad even as he knelt beside Bronwen, and brushed a few locks of hair out of her face. “I’m sorry, but this is no place for a squire. Rest now Bronwen. Your time will come.” As he said these words Bronwen realized that she couldn’t move, and indeed she was struggling to maintain consciousness as the world darkened around her. Matrim remained until finally, the world winked out of existence.

When Bronwen woke up again it would be in her own bed at Bregas with a splitting headache that would subside after a bell or so. Later, if she thought to check, she would find a note in her pockets from Matrim. It read, “I’m sorry Bronwen. There are those in Sunberth that would use you to hurt me and I cannot have that right now. Not when I’m so close to saving Sam. Please forgive me, but I must keep you at a distance until I see this mission through. There is no other way. Love, Matrim. P.S. Burn this note when you have read it dear. We don’t want this falling into the wrong hands.” An with that the letter was finished though as she unfolded the paper a small locket slipped out of it, bouncing onto the ground. It was a plain little thing, made of copper and fashioned in such a way that it opened up to reveal a lock of hair trapped behind a small pane of glass. Blond hair, like spun gold. Etched on the other side was the symbol of the wind oak.


oocAlright this wraps up the first part of the quest! First of all, thank you all for participating, it was a joy to write with you all, and I’m glad we managed to get all of the pieces in play together. The next stage is going to be more personal and individually tailored. For starters, I have a sheet of storyseeds to follow up on if any of you are interested on working on these angles together so you can message me about following up on a storyseed anytime you want.. Further more I am willing to moderate a individual thread for any interested parties seeking to take part in future events so pm me how you would like your character to get involved, I.e. how much risk you are willing to take. Also as an aside, Ves if you do return, please pm me and I’ll give you your personal story seed for how things were left off in this thread. Thanks again for participating folks!