Closed Avenge my dog! (Alexander Hamish Moore)

[Adelaide Sitai]

56th Summer 514 AV
Just after Lunch

The day had started, oddly calm and unstressful. That morning, Adelaide had finally provided her grandmother with the breakfast whisky which she had been hankering after since the beginning of the season, and the old woman had found nothing more to complain about. Breakfast over, the young Sitai had arranged the evening meal with the cook and returned to her room, ready to tackle the question as to whether there was money available to redecorate the upper floor bedrooms, including three which had not been occupied in years. Still, she had grown distracted and found herself writing a little rhyme on the subject of her grandmother. While she was trying to work out what rhymed with 'tough as old boots' and 'cause old women get to say what they like', when the very subject of the rhyme came bursting into her room. Adelaide immediately scrunched up the piece of paper, brushed it onto the floor and stood up respectfully.

"Grandmother! I..."

"They ate my dog."

"Sorry?"

"They ate my dog!" the old woman didn't look her usual confident and abrasive self. Rather, her face was crestfallen and her hand was trembling on her walking stick - the walking stick she usually only used for effect, to hit slaves with and because it was silver-tipped, rather than because she needed it at all.

"They ate your dog?" Adelaide looked blankly at her grandmother and walked over with a small smile. She was tempted to ask if the old woman was sure, but Yatmina Sitai was far from having a brain addled by age, even if she was eccentric, and Adelaide decided that questioning her would only succeed in earning herself a whack with the stick. Instead, she tried to gather more information, "Who ate your dog?"

"The fowlers. The nasty little beasts leapt on poor Genevieve and devoured her while one of the slaves was taking her for a walk. They made one mouthful of her!" Adelaide started to doubt the story a little less. She had heard of a fowler infestation on the fringes of the plantation and Genevieve would certainly be no more than a mouthful - the little dog was a frail thing accustomed to sitting in laps most of the time rather than going for walks. It was a wonder the dog had lived as long as it had, not to mention a happy chance for it that death had come so swiftly.

"Oh Grandmother! That's awful!"

"Tell me something I don't know." the old woman tapped her stick impatiently, "Now tell me what you're going to do about it."

"Well, I will make it known that the Fowlers should be dealt with in the next few days."

"No!" Adelaide stepped back in surprise at the old woman's angry exclamation, "Not in the next few days! You will deal with this today!"

"Today? But grandmother..."

"No Adelaide! No buts! You must avenge my dog! Avenge Genevieve!"

"Avenge..?" then seeing the old woman would not negotiate and would not rest until her granddaughter had carried out her wishes, Adelaide nodded wearily, "Of course Grandmother. I'm only sorry I had not dealt with it when I first heard of it and..."

"As you should be! Without your negligence, those flying beasts would not have eaten Genevieve!"

"Naturally."

And so, a bell later and having had it known that she needed someone as soon as possible, Adelaide was waiting on the porch, dressed practically but appropriate for the hot day in a red linen dress and knee-high leather boots (so as to be able to navigate the terrain) ready to talk with somebody about the problem. She had no idea who would be called to deal with the fowler issue, but only hoped that whoever he or she was would arrive quickly. Yatmina Sitai was not the type to be kept waiting. At least, though, the day got slightly cooler with every chime that passed.

[Alexander Hamish Moore]

Timestamp.

Alex had not slept well. Not in days. Not since he brutally killed Amanda, and buried her in the swamp. Each night he was plagued with nightmares, her eyes staring back at him through the muck of the bog. Every night was the same, he watched her die again and again. He ate only sparingly, he just hadn’t been very hungry. The deep scratches on his arms had slowly healed, and he washed them when ever he had the chance. And in the recent days, he had not had much work to do. Occasionally he would watch over slaves while they worked in one of the further fields. But he had done nothing important or pressing in some time. In fact he had become increasingly bored and restless, while fighting the insomnia that had plagued him for days.

While returning a plate of half eaten food to the kitchen slaves, he heard the call that the caretaker had sent out. He was tapped by Varya to answer the summons of the very influential caretaker of the estate. “Her name is ‘Miss Sitai’.” Varya growled, “That’s all you need to know about her. Be on your best behavior or I’ll gut you.”

Alex nodded mirthlessly, he was not in the mood for banter, nor her attempts of intimidation. He would answer the call, he had no choice in the matter, though he was glad for it. Maybe it would get the thoughts of the woman who had been called Amanda out of his mind. But every time he closed his eyes, she was there, staring back. He sighed and quietly returned to his little bungalow to gather his gear for the venture he knew very about.

He strapped his bag to his back, the bag that held essentially everything he owned. How easy it would be for him to just leave, and start over somewhere else. But he couldn’t leave Amanda, not just yet. He wanted to make it right somehow. In the meantime, he would have to do what he was ordered. He adjusted the gear lashed to the sides of the bag, and balanced the pack to carefully distribute the weight evenly on his shoulders, and waist.

He picked up his longsword, and untied the peace tie before fastening it to his weapon harness. The sword was light, and hung comfortable off his belt. He strung his short bow quickly but carefully. His quiver was securely fastened, and the arrows were held snuggly within. Alex rubbed his finger over the faded stitching, remember quieter times, when he lived in Syliras with his mother, and father. He squeezed his eyes shut, partly to keep a tear from sliding out, and partly to stop them from hurting from sleeplessness.

Alex closed the door to his little hut, and quickly walked towards the Estate House, where the caretaker would be waiting. He found her standing impatiently on the porch. Alex had seen her around on occasion, but he had never had reason to talk to her. He didn’t know what exactly she did around the plantation, though that was the case with the majority of the Sitai that Alex had spotted coming and going around the plantation. He approached quickly, but left her enough room to prevent offending her sensibilities. “Good afternoon Miss Sitai, I was sent to see you.” he said quietly, just over the sound of working slaves, and hands.

[Adelaide Sitai]

The sky was completely clear of clouds, the sun high in the sky. Adelaide tied her hair back and looked out to the fields, watching the slaves work. She liked to see people active, to see people toiling, even if those people were slaves - it made her feel like the world was working the way it should, and in an organised fashion.

"Good afternoon," she said with a little smile before looking down to see who had addressed her. There was a rugged-looking man, the portrait of a hired man if ever there was one - a talented painter might have wanted to capture such an evident example, "I'm hoping it isn't wrong of me to assume that you are the one who has agreed to help with the fowler infestation... and your name is...?" It was not a mercenary she had ever seen before, and she assumed that he must have been hired within the last season or less. Still, it was a show of good breeding to enquire about people's names, no matter what their station in life was, and it showed that one was gracious and polite.

"I also hope you know of the state of things. I've heard about this fowler colony, but I only have the vaguest notion of where it is and its size. You must therefore lead."

He might not have expected her to want to accompany him but, every so often, she liked to take an interest in what was going on with the plantation itself - even though there was another Sitai family member whose job it was to oversee while she tended more to the affairs of the House itself. Even in her own eyes, it was a little idiosyncratic. Still, she needed to get out of the house, to feel the fresh air, before she became stir crazy and it seemed like an excellent opportunity. Not to mention, that she saw no reason why fowlers would be particularly dangerous... even if they had eaten her grandmother's dog. She was armed with the Scimitar she knew not how to use, tucked into her leather belt in the improbable case where something dangerous might come up (at least she'd be able to brandish it) and she wasn't wearing a particularly expensive dress so it did not matter if it got a little muddy. Someone would clean it less than three bells after she had asked for it to be cleaned, and she could set a valet to make the boots shine.

"Shall we set off?" then, in an attempt to lighten the mood ever so slightly, she said with feigned seriousness, "You see, I'm on a mission to avenge a lapdog called Genevieve."

With that, the young woman smiled and crossed over the porch with a little leap in her step, happy to be able to have an excuse to go on a walk, and for it not to be called a break from her duties. She looked back at the mercenary after a couple of ticks, indicating that he should pass in front of her.

[Alexander Hamish Moore]

Alex had little experience with the highborn of Kenash. He could count those he had met on one hand. To say each one acted exactly how he thought they would, was an erroneous statement. He nodded his head briefly and politely, “My name is Alex, Miss.” he answered quietly. Had Alex been in a better mood, he might have found the job slightly comical. The idea of a tiny dog, being mercilessly attacked by fowlers would tickle the most veteran of mercenaries. Though, to be fair, Alex knew very little of fowlers. He had heard of them, and could probably point one out if he saw it. But he didn’t really know what its nest look liked, or what they ate- though it would appear that little lap dogs were certainly high on that list. Would he be able to find the nest on his own? He didn’t think that he could. “No, I reckon it wouldn’t be wrong to assume that, though I only have a rough idea of what a fowler is.”

Alex looked over the highborn Sitai, she was dressed practically, but the outfit was still very clean, and very refined. Even in the swamp, it looked like fashion would matter. She had no gear with her other than a very crisp leather scabbard holding a curved sword. He wondered if she knew how to use that, or if it was just for show. She didn’t look like she got into much trouble, and he reckoned that was a good thing. Who would be around to pay him if she were to end up dead in the swamp? Though it was becoming more and more evident that she would be coming along, and more and more evident that she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He wondered if the other highborn acted with such confidence, and panache.

He didn’t like his lack of knowledge on the wildlife of the area, it made him feel week- and it would certainly make him look weak in the eye of the natives. He didn’t want to be a braggart, but he at least wanted to look competent in the eyes of those that employed him. And since Miss Sitai would be coming along, it put him in an awkward spot, if he couldn’t do this task, he most likely wouldn’t be able to keep functioning as mercenary in Kenash, and he couldn’t afford to leave yet, and slavery wouldn’t suit him very well. “Indeed, Miss, I am eager to get underway. Just point the way where the attack occurred, and we’ll see what we can scrounge up. For Genevieve.”

Alex gathered up his gear, he wondered if he was over doing it. Bringing everything he owned seemed rather silly for some fowlers. But, he supposed it was better to be have something and not need it, than need it and be dead. “What can you tell me about the attack. How many were there?” He had heard that they lived in groups, though he didn’t know how big those groups could get. He wanted to get them all, this was an important task if a person of status was going to tag along. Alex adjusted his wide brimmed hat, today was going to drag on.

[Adelaide Sitai]

Date

Maybe this was not the right mercenary for the job, if he only had a 'rough' idea of what a fowler was. Adelaide was about to tell him that it was a sort of bird, with the body of an owl and the head of a cat, but stopped herself. Instead, she turned her mind to the question of 'Where?'

"Near the woodland area by the river to the West of the Plantation. And no, I don't know how many there are."

Adelaide looked at the man with curiosity out of the corner of her eye, her mouth pursing a little (though not unkindly) as she wondered how he would deal with the situation. Certainly, she had very little inkling of how this sort of pest control was carried out, but maybe he did not either. Such a thing worried her, for she had after all given word of the nature of the task before sending for someone. Was he the best Varya could provide, or was he just making sure that everything was clear before he proceeded with taking action? After all, pest control was not always straight-forward. Did it just take killing a few for the rest to fly away and never come back, or did they have to destroy the whole 'nest', so to speak? And how was that to be done? Shooting them out of the sky could take ages. Adelaide had heard that, in the past, a technique was used on trees, one at a time, involving lots of smoke and a large net, so that the fowlers would run from their hiding places and, blinded by the smoke, fly up into the net. Of course, she believed she had picked that up in a rather old book and she imagined it possible any number of more suitable techniques had been invented since then. Yes, on balance, she felt she could trust the man to know what he was doing since, after all, he certainly looked capable of such a task.

"Yes, for Genevieve." Adelaide said finally with a smile and, realising that he was being slow to take the lead, pushed forward.

Just as Adelaide and the mercenary started making their way down a small path through the plantation, there was a shout from the house. Adelaide turned back to see her grandmother, Yatmina Sitai, standing under the porch waving her stick furiously in the air (and thus proving that she had absolutely no need for it) shouting after them. Adelaide took a few steps back and cupped her hand around her ear.

"Grandmother?" she called, a confused expression on her face.

"Don't come back until all those little shykes are dead!"

"Sorry?"

"I said, don't come back until all those little shykes are dead! Or you'll rue the day you were born."

Adelaide made a gesture of comprehension and turned back, a grin wide on her face. Her grandmother certainly had a taste for the melodramatic. Tomorrow, the young woman decided for she knew that for her own peace of mind, it had to be soon rather than later, she would go into Kenash and buy a new lapdog for her grandmother. Even if (in being the one to pick it) she would be dooming the poor thing to a life of over-pampered misery.

The river was not so far away from the main house, only five chimes, but then they would have to walk up it until they had practically reached the boundaries with the Whitesnake plantation. Not caring about the mercenary accompanying her, the young Sitai started humming to herself as she did when alone.

[Alexander Hamish Moore]

It was a short walk down the bank of the river. It wasn’t unpleasant, Alex had spent more time in the company of others, the world was a dangerous place. Even for pampered lap dogs. His thoughts were briefly interrupted by the shouting from the manor house of the Sitai’s. The brief exchange that took place between the old woman leaning out the window, and the woman who was accompanying him was no concern to him. He slowly receded into his thoughts. He really didn’t know how he was going to handle this problem. It was something out of the scope of his experience. He had only briefly hunted in his childhood, and never on his own. There were many odd creatures in the Bronze Woods, but none of them like the fowlers. He thought that he could shoot them down, one at a time. But he didn’t know how many there were, nor did the Dynast.

He took a moment to consider his skills. What did he bring to the swamp that set him apart from the others. A strong will of survival? He proved that with the murder of the woman in the swamp. He had a grasp of shooting with his bow, though he knew he was out of practice. He didn’t know just how easy it would be for him to shoot a flying cat owl out of the sky. He hadn’t seen one up close, but he had heard their calls at night. He wondered if they were beasts that were active at night. That seemed to be a common period of activity for many creatures in the swamp, and it would help to combat the sweltering heat. It was still rather early in the evening, with several bells before the sun would sink under the horizon.

He could see the tree line, several hundred yards ahead. He wasn’t sure what to look for in terms of a nest. It would probably have to be large, from the stories he had heard they would hunt in groups, though none of the stories gave him an clue as to the usual size of a group. But, if the nest as similar in anyway to the nest of a bird, it would be rather flammable. And he imagine that the animals themselves wouldn’t be too fond of fire. He had several torches with him, and those would certainly do the trick of getting fire into the nest. But there would be no control if the blaze got out of hand. It seemed a little excessive for a pack of birds that prayed upon small dogs, but to be honest he had few ideas on how else to destroy them.

Under the shadow of the trees, the day was much cooler. Though the bugs were still rampant, and the humidity was still suffocating. Alex had enjoyed the humming from the Dynast lady, even if it had only just barely penetrated through his thoughts while they walked. But under the canopy of the trees, he had forgotten that she was even here. His eyes were peering into the soft green light of leaves. He had felt as though he had walked through here before, but the Sitai plantation was vast. He kept his eyes glued to the upper branches of the trees, as they walked deeper into the woody and overgrown patch of land.

When Alex spotted the colony, he wondered how anyone could miss such a thing. It was large, one of the biggest nests that Alex had seen. A large collection of sticks, leaves, and refuse was built into a crook in tree. Alex could see one small opening on the side of the nest, but he couldn’t see any sort of activity. “I was thinking fire could destroy the nest. I’ve got a couple torches that would do the trick, any survivors I could pick off with my bow.” He said softly, while keeping his eyes on the nest, he wasn’t really sure how Miss Sitai would react. He wasn’t even sure if it would work, or if he would burn a large swath of forest down with it. He wasn’t too sure of his plan, and made no attempt to sound sure of it. He was slowly coming to the realization that he may have bitten off more than he could chew. Maybe Varya wanted to give him a trial by fire- perhaps she thought the fire would be much less literal.

[Adelaide Sitai]

Adelaide was just starting to come up with words to compliment the tune she was humming, searching for a word that rhymed aptly with fair or squirrels, when the mercenary - Alex, she remembered - stopped walking. With a start, the young woman looked up and saw what seemed a rather large nest in one of the trees. It was bigger than she had expected it to be and reminded her completely of the time when, as a little girl, she had tried to build her own treehouse and only succeeded in making a mess of odds and ends out of leaves, sticks and other items stolen from the bedrooms of family members (for some reason, she had been sure they would not miss them) falling out of the tree, leaving large green stains on the front of her dress before being consequently punished by her step-mother for her misdeed with no dessert for a week. Somehow, she had expected fowlers to be neater than most birds, though she had no idea why.

As she smiled lightly at the memory, the pain of which had dulled with time and now only amused her, she realised with a start that Alex was talking. She forced herself to stop making a noise and to pay attention to his words.


"You were thinking..?" Somehow, Adelaide didn't get the impression that he was entirely sure of himself and that worried her more than she cared to stay. Still, she wasn't a good judge of that sort of thing. With a smile, she nodded, "Of course. Do proceed how you feel best. I should like to observe your method in practice."

She was about to add that he should be careful not to burn down anything other than the nest, including the tree, the trees around it or, worst still, the plantation itself (In the heat, fire could spread very quickly) but checked herself in time. After all, it was rather self-explanatory and could possibly mean a lot more to him than to her. If the worst really did come to the worst and a some of the plantation fields were burnt to a crisp, her family would lose some money. He, on the other hand, would lose his freedom or even pay forfeit with his life.

Fowlers were odd things and, as one stray one flew out of the nest and to a nearby branch, Adelaide was struck by both how harmless the thing look and how dangerous such things must be in numbers, especially if they were able to eat a dog, leaving not a trace (in spite of how sickly and small that dog was)

"Of course," the Sitai ventured slyly as the man stood still, looking up at the tree, "If you believe such a task to be beyond you, no-one would think less of you for finding someone else more competent. At least, I wouldn't. I'm not so sure about Varya... if you hadn't noticed, she has a temper on her."

The last utterance left Adelaide wondering idly, for a moment, which she would rather face: a colony of carnivorous birds with the ability to snatch hapless lapdogs out of the air or an angry Myrian. She hoped Alex would choose the former. After all, Adelaide had better things to do than wait around for another mercenary to be provided.

[Alexander Hamish Moore]

Alex paused, the woman was right. Alex wasn’t the most competent mercenary that presided on the Bloodflower Plantation. Perhaps he had been sent as a joke, an unskilled and untested mercenary sent to eradicate a nest of birds that had ate an old, and tiny lap dog who’s entire existence had amounted to more use than Alex. He snorted quietly to himself, he would just have to prove them wrong. He quietly set his kit down on the slightly muddy and damp ground. It wouldn’t matter at this point if his gear got dirty. It was already filthy from years of travel and use. He fished around one of the small outer pockets, pulling out a worn flint, and a tarnished chunk of steel. It still made spark, and that was after all, the most important thing about this particular tool. He just hoped that the torches were dry enough to light, he had been in the swamp for many days now, and he didn’t know if the wetness of the air had ruined them yet. Worst case he would have to build a small fire to light a couple torches. One for him, and one for Miss Sitai.

He smiled to himself briefly as he worked. His mind wandered away from the murder of the young girl in the swamp. A moment he had relived many times over, one that continued to stalk his dreams. It was good to be working. He almost missed the fowler that had left the shelter of the nest. It wouldn’t be long until the rest of the group would be waking soon, and they would be hungry. He didn’t know how many there were, but he wanted to kill as many as he could while they were still in their nest, and sleeping. Every moment the nest wasn’t in flame was one more moment closer to the entire group waking. He turned to the dynast accompanying him and mustered as much confidence as he could, “I don’t know much about fowlers, but I imagine they don’t like fire. It would be on my head if you were to get hurt, so I’m going to light a torch for you, try to keep it between you and any of the fowlers should they decide to swarm. If you could light a second torch while I kill this bird on the branch, it would be rather helpful.”


He tucked the torch under his left arm, and snaked it around until his hand was over the linen wrapped tip. He held the flint firmly between his thumb, and index finger. Similarly, he held the steel in his right hand. He firmly and deliberately scraped the steel along the flint, with enough speed and force to shower the torch in sparks. The sparks settled and cooled on the torch, unable to light it. He tried again, this time, the sparks smoldered briefly, before the rag wrapped stick caught fire. The dark greens of the forested swamp gleamed with a dull orange of the sputtering torch. He handed it to the dynast, and picked up his bow. With his eyes on the fowler sitting on the branch, Alex knocked an arrow. He was fairly confident that he could hit the strange bird, but it was the events that might unfold after the shot that had him worried.

He pulled the bow string back, the muscles in his shoulders and arms protested slightly, but obeyed, as the Alex pulled the string back to just under his eye. He looked down the shaft of the arrow, and lined it up with the bird, the head of the arrow aimed slightly above the creature’s head. Alex took a deep breath, trying his best to still his body and clear his mind. His arms still quaked, and his mind still turned, but they were slower, more subdued. He released the arrow with purpose, it lurched forward, then sailed through the air, striking the creature just right of where he was aiming, between its chest and shoulder. It squawked loudly, and flopped to the ground, screaming and mewing. It would die in short order, but in its death throes, alerted the rest of the nest.

[Orin Fenix]

Grades are Served

 

Adelaide Sitai

]

Skill	XP
Planning	2
Socialization	3
Mathematics	1
Composition	1
Poetry	1
Interrogation	1
Investigation	1
Observation	2
Politics	1
Rhetoric	1
Tactics	1
Leadership	2
Music Composition	1
Persuasion	1

Lores

• Planning: Arranging Household Meals
• Mathematics: Basic Accounting
• The Fowlers Ate Genevieve
• Yatmina Sitai: Eccentric but Sharp
• Alexander: Rugged Mercenary
• Fowlers: Monstrous Cat Owls

Extras :

Definitely not the usual situation I see Adelaide in and I'm sorry we didn't get to see more! I'm assuming the paper you used belonged to the Bloodflower House, correct me if I'm wrong.

 

Alexander Hamish Moore

Alexander, if you ever return to Mizahar, PM me and I will happily award you your grades.

Don't forget to edit or delete your grade request in the grade request thread.

If you have any questions or concerns about your grade please feel free to send me a message.