OOC: Waaaa! Ah, well. Have a fine time, and bag us a few fjords!

Tancred

With a resigned, thoughtful air, Tancred finds a seat at a table just outside the drinking pavilions and seizes a goblet of wine. He looks at it for a while, mind mulling over things.

OOC- tosses laptop into the ocean then runs after it. "no, i love you, really.." *talking to stubborn laptop which refuses to load* ah, computers.. cant live with them, cant live without 'em... *sighs*

ic- After Joram politely excused himself, Skye and Lyulfe wandered over to where Tancred and Karnas were seated. Er, the former, at least. Skye plopped herself down next to the knight, who seemed to be mulling over something troublesome. "You alright?" she asked cheerily, as she sipped at some elven mead. "Be wary, I've lost count of how many drinks she's had," Lyulfe cautioned the knight. "Oh, and some lady knight said for me to say hello to you, and hopes your health is well. She must've been a good friend, she seemed very concerned about your well being. Lyulfe didn't take to her much though," Skye rambled, sipping at her drink again here and there. Lyulfe scowled, making the closest passerby edge slowly away. "That woman made my scales itch. I could feel the fake niceness dripping off her..." he shook himself violently. "Brr! Not a pleasant feeling. Who is she?" he asked Karnas, because Tancred seemed to be going into shock.

If Karnas had eyes, he would be giving the stunned cavalier a sidelong look, gauging how much of this story to let on to the young bard. To his relief, he finds he doesn't have to take the initiative.
"I... wouldn't talk to her again, Skye," murmurs Tancred, shaking himself out of his shock. "She's a menace, a troublemaker and -"
"Right behind you," interjects Karnas.
Tancred gives a small 'meep' sound as a hand lays itself on his shoulder. It is slim, well-manicured; and white-knuckled as it grips the paladin's shoulderplate. He begins to turn in his seat, but finds he does not have to turn far; a face is waiting for him, bobbing just beside his own. A heart-shaped face; framed with a mass of straight chestnut hair. Ursula de Gossard is possessed of a straight, pearly smile, an aristocratic, slightly upturned nose - and a set of piercing, brilliant green eyes that stare back into Tancred's own narrowed blue pupils.
"It IS you," she breathes. "My my, to think you've returned after so long... we all feared the worst..."
Tancred shudders as he feels her other hand come to rest upon his other shoulder. "You... you remember me, then, Ursula?"
Her smile grows wider, showing more teeth. A high, giggling laugh escapes her throat. "Of COURSE I do... we all do. Tancred de Foesmyte come back out of the wilds, out of the mists, back into the fold? Oh, how we've all worried, Tancred... You have no idea how much of a stir you've caused, disappearing into thin air all those years ago, and now... appearing here again, unnoticed by the gate watch, as if by magic..."
Her gaze flicks from Tancred's face to Skye. Her brows raise, ever so slightly; She looks the young bard up and down.
"And who... is this? I bumped into you earlier, girl, but I had no idea you were one of this great knight's close companions...?"
Tancred's eyes also move to Skye. He gives the barest of head-shakes in her direction.
It is perhaps intriguing that Karnas is, oddly, silent.

Lyulfe interrupted Skye before the slightly tipsy half-elf could say anything. He huffed, a bit of smoke blowing into Ursula's face, causing her to break into a spasm of coughing. "She's my companion, who in her drunken stupor likes to talk to many strangers, whether it is for her benefit we do not know," he said wryly. He stood up, glancing at Tancred. "It was nice speaking to a knight. It isn't often that I can talk to one without being speared first," the dragon said dryly, then pulled Skye to her feet. "Come along, we must find your room at St. George's Inn," he told her, leading her away into the crowd. Luckily Skye had caught on enough to keep her mouth shut, and obediently let herself be herded away. "Maybe I'll run into you again sometime, Sir Knight," she called cheerfully over her shoulder to Tancred. Lyulfe only hoped that either Tancred or Karnas would be able to explain more indepth later...

ooc: Lesson 1: How to write yourself out of a corner - write something completely unconnected with the main plot and explain that you're 'developing the story'...

IC: "In all honesty, Ursula, I'm really very busy, got to get moving, jousts await, so if you'll excuse me -"
Tancred starts to push himself out of his chair, but a sudden shove forces him back down.
"You. Sit." Ursula's voice loses it's sweet, crooning edge, becoming low and venomous. She walks around the wary knight, taking Skye's vacated seat.
The pair of knights glare at each other for a moment.
Tancred breaks the silence. "Very well... what can I do for you, de Gossard?"

***

Karnas settles himself down, ready to watch and listen to the exchange between the knights. After all, it's really nothing to do with him. The fact that it was more or less his urgings that got Tancred involved with the conspiracy to humiliate his red-haired rival barely enters his mind.
Something disturbs him. A sound, on the cusp of hearing. Somehow different than the outside world; he can hear the conversation going on in front of him, and the sounds of the joust going on in the background... but there is something sharper and clearer about this sound.
He concentrates, straining to catch it again - and there it is; a woman's sob, faint but definite.
It had been a long time since the evil mage had stopped caring about the crying of women and children, but this somehow demands attention.
Karnas no longer truly has eyes or ears, but his senses are still very much alive. He struggles to pierce the misty barrier that seperates him from the world at large; the walls of his sword-shaped prison are thick and strong, but old - and Karnas knows them too well for them to stop him entirely. He searches the world for the source of the single sob.
Slowly, he becomes aware of it. A sentient mind, almost drowned in misery and despair, thoughts given a kind of voice, coming from -
If he had a mouth, it would have opened in surprise. Karnas directs every scrutiny towards it, but finds there can be no mistake.
Ursula's sword - silver, antique, glowing - is crying.
An instinct - curiosity, pity and perhaps a certain sense of sudden kinship - takes hold of the trapped mage. Gritting his theoretical teeth, Karnas throws everything he has; every shred of willpower, every gramme of determination, every iota of personality into forcing a small part of himself outward, fighting to cover the distance between him and the silver blade. The golden walls of the sword seem to constrict around him, making every inch stretch out and out, but Karnas has had 300 years of imprisonment to toughen his will. Gradually, achingly, he meets the sentience within Ursula's sword and tries to throw words at it as best he can.
"Hello? Can you hear me?"
The sobbing does not stop.
"Hello? Mother of - This isn't easy! Can you hear me?"
Still nothing. Karnas can feel the general shape of the mind now; closed in upon itself, almost deranged. He grimly nods to himself; he remembers his own despair, trapped without escape in a glowing cage, bound to serve.
It must, he thinks, have felt like this.
He musters his strength, and tries one last time.
"HELLO?!?"
The crying does not cease; but the mind stirs. It is aware of him, trying to find him, wary but surprised out of its' despair. A contact of sorts is made; Karnas gets the impression of a face, aquiline and noble, whitehaired and darkskinned; unmistakeably Elven, but tinged with the darkness of the underworld.
A drow...?
A bewildered voice, harsh and broken by tears.
"What... who?"
The young mage smiles, faintly. "Hello... um... are you alright?"
Her self-loss receded, but her wariness grew. "You are... you are some trick of my mind! You are not real! Go away!"
"No... No! Wait!"
The mind seems to try to push him away, to retreat back within its' walls, but the drow woman is relaitvely new to her prison; still weak and distraught. Karnas reaches out, taking a hold, refusing her retreat.
"Go away!"
"NO! Listen to me!"
"Leave me alone!"
Not quite mad, but not quite sane, he thinks. She begins to lash out in his grip, trying to fight him. Karnas keeps his hold for a moment, but her distress becomes too painful for him. He backs off, slowly. A fresh wave of misery wells forth, louder than before.
Stupid woman! Karnas thinks. Annoyance starts to rise in him, but he tries to ignore it, taking metaphorical deep breaths. He shakes the head he hasn't got. Diplomacy, he reflects, is not my strong suit.
"You're new to this prison, aren't you?"
The words seem to reach some despondent part of her mind.
"New? NEW? I have been trapped here for fifty-seven years!" she wails.
Karnas nods. "It's the first hundred years or so that are the worst, aye," comes his reply.
She looks at him suddenly; directly at him, as if seeing him properly for the first time. Karnas can feel her scrutiny as she opens her eyes to him. At the last, her eyes fall upon the distant feel of the golden sword, distant but bright, and comprehension dawns.
"You... you are..."
He nods. "Yes, yes I am."
Disbelief gives way to wonder. "How... how long?"
"Three hundred and thirty five years."
She gasps and falls silent. Karnas waits; struggling to hold back his impatience. This must be done slowly, or not at all, he thinks to himself.
Gradually, he can feel her prescence stretch out itself, coming closer again. She is downcast, shamefaced.
"Who are you?" he asks at length. A measure of pride seems to return to her spirit. She raises her gaze, recovering her composure. Damn Drow women, Karnas muses. Changeable as a Wand of Wonder... and just as dangerous.
"My given name is Malesa, priestess of Lloth, male," she replies haughtily.
"Karnas Thoth." the mage extends a 'hand' - a small tendril of will, a gesture of good faith. "Mage of Thay."
She stares at him. He can feel her sudden dilemma. Accept this one salutation, and compromise one's inbred pride? Or decline it, and remain alone but with pride intact?
The decision is suddenly made for both of them.
A sudden pressure begins to drag Karnas away. He looks back - and understands why. Tancred has got up, and is moving away, carrying the sword with him. Karnas thinks about telling him to stop, but it would mean having to return to the sword first to do it - and the big lug probably wouldn't want to spend any more time around Ursula than he would want to. Muttering, the mage turns his senses to Malesa.
"My bearer is moving away," he explains. "I... I can't keep this contact up... for much longer, ma'am. I will have to say my farewell -"
A quick, frantic movement on her part surprises the mage. She grabs hold of him, keeping him with her.
"Please! Don't go!" Panic begins to show itself in her voice and face.
Karnas shakes his head. Her will is strong, but still disorientated; she does not have the power to rip him from his sword. Gradually, Karnas is pulled back.
"You... cannot stop this," he groans. The forces pulling him apart become stronger. "We... will... meet again..." Tancred and Ursula crossing swords again? Likely, the mage thinks.
Gradualy, Malesa releases her grip, letting the mage drift back to his prison. Her parting thoughts follow him; resignation at his departure, a plaintinve wish for him to come back. In a flash, Karnas catches a glimpse of her heart - layers of despair and fear covering over a hard knot of loneliness.
A moment of realisation hits him.
She doesn't know how to talk to people outside...
Understanding dawns. Karnas imagines three hundred and thirty five years, trapped at his bearer's side, voiceless and alone.
He shivers.
He watches the faint glimmer of Ursula's sword fade.
I will go back, he thinks. No sentient being deserves a fate like that.

***

"Damn the woman," mutters Tancred, viciously. "That's just about all the veiled threats I an take for one day."
"Her sword was nice," adds Karnas.
Tancred gives his sword an odd look.
"Whatever. Where did Skye say she was lodging, again?"

ooc- lesson #2- make sure to use it on a woman.. she's more likely to fall for it ;)

ic- Lyulfe paced about, or at least as best a dragon could. <font color="darkseagreen">"They should be here by now,"</font> he said in a huff. Skye groaned, holding her head a little. <font color="skyblue">"Stop moving back and forth like that, you're going to make me sick,"</font> she whined, plopping her head down on the table in front of her. Her dragon companion looked over at her. <font color="darkseagreen">"Well it's your own fault you drank so much in the first place. You shouldn't have accepted all those drinks from those knight fellows, they can't be trusted."</font> Skye scowled at him from the one eye that could be seen through her bangs, not bothering to lift her head from the table. <font color="skyblue">"Well I didn't see you stopping me! Besides, it's rude to refuse a drink offered to you... I only took one or two from each person,"</font> she said, wincing with her attempt at speech. Lyulfe rolled his eyes, which is quite an amusing sight to see from a dragon, and blew a small cloud of smoke in the hungover bladebard's direction. <font color="darkseagreen">"Just be glad that you recooperate from alcohol so quickly, otherwise you'd have 'friendly' male knights crawling all over you,"</font> he commented sarcastically. Luckily, before any row could break out between the two, Tancred strode in angrily, and talking to Karnas about some girl sword the mage wasn't to associate with, although Karnas didn't seem to quite see eyelevel with the knight on the issue (ooc- no pun intended ;) ). Skye clutched her head a bit at the noise, and Lyulfe chuckled a little bit. <font color="darkseagreen">"Never knew swords came with genders now,"</font> he grinned toothily with humour. <font color="darkseagreen">"Now what's all this about a sword and Lady Ursuh-whatsis?"</font>

[ 01-02-2003, 10:56 PM: Message edited by: Skydracgrrl ]

In the street, one man and his sword.

***

"There is absolutely no way I am going to try and be friends with that woman."
"Oh come on!" moans Karnas. "Live and let live, man!"
"Tell HER that, not me!"
"I daresay she'd see the light if you apologised properly."
"Rubbish. You heard what she's done!"
"There's no proof it was her."
"That's what's so WORRYING!" Tancred yells, oblivious to the strange looks he is getting from traders in the main street. "If she managed to get away with the last three, what hope have I got?"
"She didn't seem like such a bad girl earlier..."
"Did you have cotton wool stuffed in your hilt?!?"
Karnas thinks for a bit. "There's always the Secret Weapon..."
"You what?"
"Something no woman could possibly resist. The old Cavalier charm."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Seriously." Karnas fights to keep any edge of hilarity out of his voice... and fails. "No fair maiden could possibly fail to be swayed by your ragged - er - RUGGED good looks."
"Shut up."
"No, hear me out! Say, one of the banquets... during a brief lull... you just walk up to her... tap her on the shoulder, and when she turns round take her in your arms and -"
"Get a dagger in the ribs. For crying out loud, Karnas!"
"Have some self-respect, man! Just grab her and kiss her! Once her initial -struggles - are over... well, I daresay everything will be forgiven between the pair of you by morning."
"Karnas, this is 100% out of the question!"
"Just think of her... those ruby lips.. that flowing hair -"
"Have you gone MAD!?! SHUT UP!"
"Huh... well, fine, be like that. Virgin."

***

"I know what it is."
Tancred grits his teeth. Only 1000 yards or so the the inn. "I'm not listening, mage."
"I've got you all figured out, now. I see where you're coming from."
"Really."
"You're sweet on the blonde elf ditz girl, aren't you?"
"... no!"
"HAH! You hesitated!"
"Only because I'm not used to dealing with evil mages THIS insane, Karnas."
"I know you. You've always had this thing for delicate, vulnerable blondes!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, la la la..."
"And, oh, is it any coincidence we're going to an inn?"
"What? HUH?"
"Oh, I can see it coming now! It's the old 'someone wants me dead - can I stay with you tonight' routine, isn't it? You sly fox!"
"... I have absolutely no intention -"
"Liar!"
"SHUT UP!"
"Come on! You can admit it to me! I'm your friend, boy!"
"I need your advice like I need a crossbow bolt through the head."
"I remember it all now... you leaping to rescue her from drowning back during the Dragon Quests... You've had your eye on her from day one, haven't you?"
"I categorically state that there is no truth in that at all..."
"I wonder... and I wonder if she harbours any feelings for you...?"
Tancred is, at least for a moment, lost for words. Karnas smells blood and moves in.
"Longing for your strong, manly embrace to hold her through those cold nights spent sleeping by a fire in the night air... playing silly with other Paladins to try and get your attention - remember? Weeping for you in secret when you disapeared... hanging around and staying by you even when the rest of the Bar Folk go their own ways -"
"SHUT UP! No more, Karnas!"
"I'll bet good money she wants you, man!"
100 yards. Not far now. "Even so."
"EVEN SO? Are you just going to let her pine away for you? No real man could do such a thing, surely? A hot chick like that? Sure, she's a bit... blonde, but even a slap across the face might be worth the effort..."
"You're a good sword... but a lousy matchmaker."

***

Walking up the inn stairs, still deep in 'debate'...

"Anyway, I know what this is about."
"I'm just trying to help -"
"Don't try that 'innocent little sword' routine either. You're just trying to get around me so I'll feel indebted and then I'll help you with your problem. Well, it's not going to work."
Karnas sighs. "You don't have to go near her! You could STEAL her sword! You could get someone else to do it! Anything!"
Tancred counters testily. "Mmm, nice plan - except for one little problem?"
Karnas pauses. "Which is?"
"This little thing called the CODE OF CHIVALRY, you numbpommeled - er..." The irate paladin cools as he realises where he is.
"Um... sorry," he says to the bard and dragon watching him. "I... I'll come in again."

ooc: And they wonder why Tancred thinks of himself as being under a curse...

ooc- [img]graemlins/hehe.gif[/img] good thing Skye and Lyulfe didn't hear about the earlier topic of discussion.. Skye would've been embarrassed and it would have put evil ideas into Lyulfe's mind. ;) You know how sidekicks are.. [img]graemlins/evillaughter2.gif[/img]

ic- Once Tancred and Karnas made their re-entry Skye stood up, still clutching her head, and moved towards the door. <font color="darkseagreen">"And where do you think you're going?"</font> Lyulfe asked, a scaly draconic eyebrow raised quizzically. <font color="skyblue">"I'm going to get more alcohol,"</font> Skye muttered. <font color="skyblue">"They don't have any good coffee around here, so the next best way to deal with a hangover is to make sure I don't get one.</font> Lyulfe made a chuffling sound, which seemed to be choked back laughter. <font color="darkseagreen">"And here I thought you wanted to talk to your knight friend... but if you'd rather hang out with those other inexperienced men waving swords about in a drunken stupor, don't let me stop you,"</font> the dragon said with a mocking smirk. Skye humphed, glancing at Tancred, then stalked out of the room. Lyulfe looked at the pair and shrugged, leaning back on his haunches. <font color="darkseagreen">"So, what is this about rescuing a damsel of sorts?"</font> he asked, eyeing Karnas with amusement.

ooc- Funny thing with dragons... can never tell if their talking in coincidence or if they really are mind readers... ;)

ic-
<center>Outside...</center>
Skye wandered towards the outdoor bar set in the middle of a nearby field. She grinned and waved back wearily to a bunch of knights who had contributed to her amount of drinks earlier. She plopped herself down on a stool to herself, and called the barkeep over. <font color="skyblue">"Oi, 'nother elven mead please,"</font> she asked with a wince. <font color="aquamarine">"Eh, they weren't joking about elves recovery time with alcohol were they? Alright, another coming up lass,"</font> the man said with a shake of his head in amusement and disbelief. After downing a couple, Skye's ear twitched, overhearing a conversation between a rather young knight and an inexperienced looking girl. <font color="orchid">'An assassin,'</font> she decided. <font color="orchid">'New at the job too, I wouldn't wonder,'</font>

<font color="crimson">"Now, joost make suhe too get too 'im all coseh liake. Then when yoo'eh bisseh distractin 'im, slip this inta 'is drink, then make suhe to get the nine 'ells outta thehe,"</font> the knight said to the wide eyed girl, who nodded dumbly. <font color="aliceblue">"B-but, how am I supposed to get him interested in me? I'm just... just..."</font> the girl blushed. <font color="aliceblue">"Just a girl..."</font> The knight laughed scornfully. <font color="crimson">" 'e's a kniat foh god's sake. A paladin, at that. They'eh olways rescuin' damsels in distress. 'ere, how's about I act liake I'm droonk and try ta mess with yoo when 'e 'appens to be walkin' by. That'll get 'is 'onoueh riled up, to be suhe."</font> he winked devilishly at the girl, and the hairs on the back of Skye's neck rose up with a chill.

Downing the fifth drink, Skye made herself stumble over to the girl and knight, and clung to the knight's shoulders. She said to him breathily<font color="skyblue">"I couldn't but help overhear your conversation. Surely I could be of better service than this.."</font> she mustered up a scornful scowl at the girl, who shrunk back. <font color="skyblue">"this girl. I have alot more experience, plus I prolly have more appeal,"</font> she added, primping her hair and giving her most charming smiles. The knight looked her over appreciatively. <font color="crimson">"Yoo'eh most liakely rot thehe, dearie."</font> he waved his arm dismissively at the girl. <font color="crimson">"Coonsideh yoorse'f no loongeh buhdened. Now begone with ye!"</font> The girl disappeared into the crowd, without so much as a second glance. The knight looked at Skye and gave her his most disarming smile. <font color="crimson">"Now, lets go set oop tha ploy, shall we?"</font> She grimaced inwardly. <font color="orchid">'I can feel the sugar oozing from his words, the faker.'</font> Skye smiled at him stupidly. <font color="skyblue">"Of course."</font>

*~~~~~~~~later~~~~~~~~*

<font color="skyblue">"So, who exactly are we looking for?"</font> she asked the knight, scanning the crowd. He had taken them to an indescrete alley, where they wouldn't be seen until their 'plan' was to be executed when the person showed up. <font color="crimson">"Soome 'onourous, uptiat paladin called Tancred,"</font> he said offhandedly. Skye disguised her surprise and asked innocently, <font color="skyblue">"What'd he do? Kill one of your relatives in a duel?"</font> The knight laughed. <font color="crimson">"Fah froom it, dearie. Let's joost say I'm doin it foh a... female froind,"</font> he winked jovially. Skye's eyebrow raised slightly, and she went back to scanning the crowd. She bet that the knight had never even seen Tancred before, so she pointed excitedly at a random knight. <font color="skyblue">"Ooh, ooh, there he is! Now what?"</font> The words were barely out of her mouth when she was grabbed roughly from behind. Spinning her about quickly, the lecherous knight attempted to force her to kiss him. Frozen with shock and surprise, Skye recovered quickly. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she stuck her arms out in an attempt to push him away, and turning her head away she shouted <font color="skyblue">"No! Get back you! I don't go for guys with strange accents!!"</font> Peeking forward at him, she realised in her flurry of motion she had hit him squarely in the nose, and had knocked him out. Looking down at her shirt she grimaced, noticing she had some blood on it from his nose. Grabbing the pouch of powder that was to "deal with" Tancred, she left the knight in a collapsed heap.

She ran up the inn stairs two at a time and burst into the room she and Lyulfe were sharing. Tancred, Karnas, and Lyulfe all started with surprise, having been in what seemed an indepth conversation. Her dragon counterpart's eyes narrowed at the sight of the blood stains on her shirt but before he could say anything she broke in. <font color="skyblue">"Tancred, someone's trying to get rid of you with..."</font> reaching for the pouch, she collapsed to the floor, conked out. Lyulfe coughed. <font color="darkseagreen">"It seems she had one too many drinks to handle all the excitement,"</font> he commented dryly, staring down at the unconscious half-elf.

ooc- lesson #3- use lots of different colours, its fun and it confuses others. also use strange accents on odd characters..

[ 01-02-2003, 10:58 PM: Message edited by: Skydracgrrl ]

OOC: Lesson #4- bring a big bag to bag big fjords
IC:

Almost as soon as Tancred's girl left, Joram returned to his own pavillion. It was not difficult to find, as amidst all the bright colours vying for attention, only his stood out. It looked almost out of place with its plain grey and blue, the colours of undyed wool and frozen lakes, the colours of his house. They were taken directly from his banner, the same light blue snowcrystal on the same papellone grey background. A crescent had been embroidered to hoover just above the crystal, marking Joram as the second son of Lord Snowdale.

Joram glanced at the suit of armour at the far wall.
Originally he had planned to enter the contest himself to win honour, and a not unsignificant amount of coin. His wasn't exactly the wealthiest family around.
Tancred's arrival had made him change his plans.
Filling a goblet with wine, he walked back to the entrance to take in the sights.
This was not his first tourney, but every time he was awed by the sheer size of the event. Seeing his old friend again made him realise he didn't really stand a chance at winning anything. The joust here in H'Azelle was the biggest on the entire plane, and people came from all over to compete.
Foesmythe had a much better at winning than he did, and there were several avantages to serving as his squire.
For one thing, he didn't look forward to the bruising most knights would get, nor the busy schedule, the enmities forged, and the risk of severe injuries.
But for his father, who had seen real wars and thought his sons would need all the preparation they could get, he would have become a poet.

As Joram finished his wine and turned to walk to his sleeping pallet, he thought he could see a shadow moving through the tent. Closer inspection revealed nothing, which didn't help calm his nerves the slightest.

With the blanket over his head, it took a long time before sleep took him.

ooc- Tancred.. [img]graemlins/bigeyesad.gif[/img]

OOC: Damn you and those puppydawg smiley eyes! Ok, ok… having said that, this was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever written for the Bar, for some reason.

IC: Meanwhile…

***

"Well, it’s a long story," begins the knight, settling himself down on the bed. "It… it’s hard to know where to begin…"
"The boy’s got himself into a feud with the psychotic red-head knightess and is expecting to be assassinated any second." One gets the impression Karnas is grinning.
"That’s… about the size of it…" agrees the knight. "I was part of... well, just a prank, really! But it cost someone a shot at the title, and I guess I underestimated just how much that means to some people."
Lyulfe thinks for a minute.
"How much does it mean to you?"
"What?"
"Seriously," asks the dragon. "What's stopping you just leaving here and running for it? Do you have to compete in this joust?"
Tancred is silent for a moment, deep in thought.
"That's a good question," he answers. "But there's no backing out now, dragon, even if I wanted to. It's a matter of honour now."
Lyulfe snorts. "Seems to me, a knight can always get more honour... wha IS going on out there?"
The Song Dragon pads over to the window, where in the street below a ruckus is forming - but he doesn’t get a chance to report; hurried steps are heard on the stairs outside, and Skye stumbles her way into the room.
“Tancred! Someone’s trying to get rid of you with…” she manages, before her eyes roll back in her head and she topples to the floor.
Lyulfe sighs.
"Looks like she's had one too many drinks to handle the excitement," he quips.
Tancred gets up from the bed, kneeling by the comatose bard. He lifts her head gently, opening one of her eyelids.
“Is she alright?”
Skye gives a loud snore.
“Pining, probably,” sneers Karnas.
The dragon cuts across them, putting on his very best authoritative tone. “Given the circumstances, I think we should get moving, don’t you?”
“What?”
The dragon nods toward the window he is gazing out of. “Come see.”
The alley by the inn was somewhat crowded, to say the least. Knights and peasants and other ne’er-do-wells were clustering around a team of squires bearing the badge of the Knights Hospitaller; the famous white cross on black.
A young knight was being carried out on a stretcher, his face bloody.
Tancred grimaced. “There’s a look of the Orkney clan about the sleeping guy… damn womanising Orkneys.”
The dragon looked back and forth, from the knight’s red nose to Skye’s ruined shirt. “I think we’d better go without being noticed – if that’s possible...”
“Surely the inn is safer?” Karnas quips, a sly tone in his voice. “Why, I bet the boy here was just about to suggest you and I stay in a separate room as a decoy, while he ‘ministers’ to the floozy here…”
Lyulfe doesn’t say anything, but takes a few steps closer to his bardic companion. He shows some teeth.
Tancred sighs, irritated. “Back to the pavilions, then? With any luck, we should be safe there. At least no-one will try anything so overt as a frontal attack in a camp full of hungover knights.”
“Sounds better than this inn. Pick her up, then.”
“What?”
“Well, it’s not as if I can carry her, is it?” the dragon turns the full force of his withering sarcasm onto the knight. “Me, without opposable thumbs and everything. And the glowing stick over there isn’t much help. You’ll have to carry her.”
Tancred mutters something under his breath. With Karnas’ gleeful laugh still in his ears, the paladin carefully hoists Skye over his shoulder. He totters over to the bed – trying to get his balance aright – and rams the mocking sword into his scabbard. Skye can be heard, mumbling quietly to herself.
“Are there likely to be archers sniping from the rooftops, do you think?” Lyulfe smiles with hooded eyes. “I knew I should have worn my gem-encrusted waistcoat.”
Silence, except for the creaking of floorboards. After a while, the cheerful creature harrumps and shrugs with his wings.
“Sorry. Dragon joke.”
“We can but hope they’ll aim for you first, lizard,” drawls the sword. “With luck the average humour level in the city might go u – what’s that?”
Both dragon and knight look down at the floor. Sure enough, the pouch of innocent-looking powder has made itself noticed.
Lyulfe pads over to it.
“Smells a bit sugary… I’ve never smelt her carry anything that smelt like this before.”
Tancred carefully deposits the sozzled Skye onto the bed and leans down, taking a little of the powder on his finger. Giving the dragon a quizzical expression, he goes to taste it.”
“Don’t do that, you silly man!” yells Lyulfe, as Tancred goes to taste a little on his tongue. “It could be poisonous!”
“… That’s ridiculous. What would Skye be doing with poison?”

[ 01-13-2003, 09:36 PM: Message edited by: Tancred ]

OOC: I just realised since I deleted a post it looks like I havent posted. I have now.

BTW... welcome back Legolas! I daresay we shall work to try and get the plot back in your your direction once more.

Tanc

OOC: Thank you, Tancred [img]smile.gif[/img]
Holy-boy seems to have his hands full at the moment, but I'm sure the pickpocketing bard will show up sometime in the near future. Until such time, there's no need to rush headlong in that one direction. We have a while yet to view the scenery, so to speak...

ooc- now now, you know girls neever snore.. ;) [img]tongue.gif[/img] and Lyulfe could possibly be persuaded to see Karnas's view about Tancred and Skye's situation.. he is a sidekick afterall.. [img]graemlins/hehe.gif[/img] :D

ic-Lyulfe said to Tancred dryly <font color="darkseagreen">"Why would she have a pouch of sugar? I doubt that makes any more sense than poison. And if what you say is true..."</font> he drawled, looking outside once again, <font color="darkseagreen">"Then I would bet it's poison. It makes sense why Skye had to bloody that man's face, if that was the case. She could have just run away from him instead, but she waited to get this."</font> he snatched it from the knight and snuffled it cautiously.

~~~~~*jumping back just a little..*~~~~~

Skye could feel warm arms around her, lifting her from the bed. She murmured nonsensical noises, too sleepy to bother trying to make and logical words. When she was set down again she mumbled under her breath <font color="skyblue">"Oh, good... didn'... drink anything.... Tancred...don' like... powder..."</font> she sighed and drifted deeper off into sleep.

ooc- sorry Tancred, but you made me resort to my sad puppy eyes :( im not known for my patience ;) ^^;

He stands there for a moment, sugar-coated finger raised, staring at the Dragon. His gaze slowly turns to the window, and the thought of the bloodied knight crosses his thoughts.
A voice... effete, chirping... echoes in his mind.
"... then there was d'Akwitayn - a goblet of wine he'd been holding exploded..."
Tancred stares at the sugary stuff on his finger in horror.
With hurried motions he cleans the stuff off. VERY thoroughly.
He marches to the bed, picks up th somnambulic bard as carefully as he can whilst still being as quick as possible, and moves to the door.
"Let's go," he orders, in stern but worried tones.

OOC: I dunno about 'warm arms'. Tanc has this depressing habit of wearing old full-plate everywhere. I think it's because that's all the clothes he owns.

[ 01-15-2003, 07:30 AM: Message edited by: Tancred ]

ooc- yeah well, there's a warm body in the armour so... *shrugs* :D
Legolas, I think you can make your char bump into us now [img]smile.gif[/img]

ic- Following after the anxious paladin, Lyulfe muttered under his breath <font color="darkseagreen">"No wonder why Karnas always teases you... I give you a speech and you try to eat the stuff. She, on the other hand, mumbles a few words in her sleep and you're scared to death."</font>

[ 01-16-2003, 10:00 PM: Message edited by: Skydracgrrl ]

Joram turned back to his other side in an attempt to shut out the sounds of men hurrying past his pavillion in their metal boots. When they began shouting as well, he gave up with a sigh. Rubbing the sleep from his pale blue eyes, he sat up and pulled on his clothes. When he had finished and was about to step outside, he changed his mind and put his proper knightly armour over the padded shirt and breeches. It took a lot more time, but he did feel more comfortable wearing something to protect him, even if he wasn't quite sure whohe needed to be protected from. He ducked through the tent opening, using his free hand to try and to rub some order back into his sleep-messed hair.

Outside the shouting was louder, as if the twilight embraced the sounds of the living the candles inside sought to banish. He could see shapes moving between the pavillions, hurrying in the direction of the city walls. The guards wouldn't let anyone enter the city this time of night, so he assumed they were heading for the inn where travellers usually waited for the night to pass so they might pass through the gate. Now it was used by those who didn't want to miss any part of the tournament.
Not sure about his reasons for doing so, Joram nonetheless followed the other knights and squires. The inn wasn't the only building on the wrong side of the wall, as over time people who couldn't find homes inside the walls built their own on the outside. The king of H'Azelle wasn't too happy about this as it gave the enemy an advantage during a siege, he allowed them to remain where they were while peace lasted.
Moving through the miniature maze of the buildings, Joram soon turned a corner which allowed him a view at the inn. At the sight of the mob standing outside, he slowly turned and crept away. There seemed to be an argument going on, but he suddenly didn't want to hang around to learn more, nor wait for the - likely violent - end.

Looking back over his shoulder to reassure himself noone was following him, he never spotted the man appearing before him. Joram bumped into the man, who almost dropped a bundle of clothes he carried in his arms.
His heart skipped a beat, but then he recognised his old friend.

"Ah, Tancred. I see you're still awake. Ehr... you're just taking a walk as well then, are you?"

Tancred is caught completely by surprise, walking around a corner into the sinister silhouette of an armoured man in the shadows. Torn between not dropping Skye and drawing his sword, the cavalier manages to fumble both enterprises wonderfully, almost losing his balance in the process. Tancred shuts his eyes, grimly expecting a sword to strike him down where he stands…
"Ah, Tancred. I see you're still awake. Ehr... you're just taking a walk as well then, are you?"
He opens one eye.
“Joram!” he cries out in relief, opening the other. “Thank the gods… we need to get back to the pavilions, quickly – where the hell are they?”
Skye mumbles something in the sudden quiet.
“What did she say?” drawled Lyulfe, laid-back as ever.
“Er… I think she said ‘Mummy’?”
“Sounded more like ‘Money’ to me.”
“I thought it was ‘Honey’…” insinuated a heckling, educated voice.
Tancred makes a noise. It sounds very much like steam escaping from a high-pressure valve. If the knight’s red, shaking face is anything to go by, it also sounds very much like a man whose patience and sanity are skidding on the very edge…

[ 01-18-2003, 04:47 PM: Message edited by: Tancred ]

Lyulfe made a chuffing sound, resembling laughter. <font color="darkseagreen">"Or maybe it was dummy, can't be sure... Although it might have sounded the most like honey..."</font> He grinned toothily at the sword with amusement. Before Tancred could say anything in retaliation, Skye clutched onto his neck with a sigh, still asleep. This action made Karnas and the dragon both break out in another bout of laughter.

[ 01-18-2003, 11:59 PM: Message edited by: Skydracgrrl ]

With his growing wrath momentarily caught off-guard by Skye's sleepy embrace, Tancred can do nothing but try and control his temper and silently plead with Joram to hurry up and help us get the hell out of here!
Karnas chuckles some more. "You're blushing, boy!"
The feel of Skye's arms around his neck and the scent of her shampoo give rise to a very unusual set of thoughts, but to the cavalier's credit he's fighting them best he can with mental images of throwing Karnas into a lake. Notions of dragonslaying aren't far away either.

[ 01-19-2003, 04:30 PM: Message edited by: Tancred ]

ooc- [img]graemlins/hehe.gif[/img] roflmao [img]graemlins/hehe.gif[/img] i think I'll just wait for Legolas to post, I'm laughing to hard to do anything serious.. [img]graemlins/biglaugh.gif[/img]

Feeling left out and knowing the others were a lot closer to Tancred than he had ever been in the past, let alone now, Joram did his best to ignore the taunting jests and led the group back towards his pavillion.

"It may be a little tight," he announced as he held back the tent flap.
Joram laughed nervously.
"But it beats being alone on a night like this. It's a genuine Billy night if you ask me. Billy..."


It was cold outside, and he could feel a cramp coming up in his leg. Crouching, one arm over the goat, a young boy peered out between the leaves. A group of men carrying torches raced past only yards away, but the bushes lining the estate's walls sheltered him from their view. The fact that it was almost completely dark wouldn't stop them from trying. He was deathly afraid.
What had they ever done to deserve being hunted like so much game?

There was shouting going on, and more men came by. He could see them too, lots of big angry men. And the boy and the goat were small, and all alone. His eyes began to water, obscuring his sight. He had to struggle from breaking out in sobs and betraying their hiding place. The smelly but lovable goat nibbled on some leaves, bleating soflty.

And then the wind rose. It came in gusts, each gently stroking his neck. It carried the smell of ale. But the bushes were silent.
Slowly, almost too afraid to move at all, the boy turned his head. He was staring right into the ugliest grin he'd ever seen.

"They're right here guys!" the man shouted. Joram made a run for it, but was caught almost before he started. Billy managed to find a clear path to the woods. Silently, Joram cheered his friend on.
Then Billy stumbled and fell. A final, keening bleat filled the air, and seeing the two wooden shafts potruding from the fuzzy coat, young Joram cryed with him.

Joram stabilised himself with the aid of a tentpole, waiting for the painfully vivid memory to sink once more beneath the surface of his mind.

"Why'd he have to die?", he murmured.

Tancred gratefully enters the pavilion; after a haunted walk jumping at shadows, the blue and grey tent is a place of thankful safety. He hears Joram mutter something along the lines of 'Billy night'...
He lays Skye down as carefully as he can upon Joram's bed, gently unravelling her arms from around his neck.
The young knight stands there by the bedside for a moment, frozen in thought, as if thinking for some words. In the end, he turns away with a shake of his head, possibly realisng that he has until Skye wakes up to think up a way to say thank-you for saving his life - that WON'T be misinterpreted as a pick-up line by other listening parties.
He goes back to Joram, noting that Lyulfe has padded to Skye's side. The dragon gives him a wink and a toothy grin. Tancred replies with a scowl. The cavalier thanks any passing deities for the silence coming from his sword.
"Listen," he asks, "I need another favour, Joram... are - are you alright, man?"
He lays a hand upon Joram's shoulder, looking anxious as the knight-squire leans up against the tent-pole, a miserable, distant look in his face.

[ 01-20-2003, 10:14 PM: Message edited by: Tancred ]

Lyulfe turned back to Skye after winking mischieviously at Tancred, who returned the look with a scowl. He frowned slightly to himself, and brushed her bangs back from her forehead. <font color="darkseagreen">'She sometimes has a little bit of trouble with her drink, but Skye recovers quick enough...'</font> he leaned over, and noticed she was a little more drawn than usual. Lyulfe's fears were laid to rest, however, when her eyelids fluttered open.

<font color="darkseagreen">"Skye? Exactly how much alcohol did you have?"</font> he asked with slight sarcasm, knowing that it took her awhile to wake up fully. She looked in the direction of his voice and smiled weakly. <font color="skyblue">"I'm not quite sure, but I don't think it's agreeing with me very well..."</font> she shivered. <font color="skyblue">"A little chilly, isn't it?"</font> Lyulfe frowned slightly. <font color="darkseagreen">"Maybe it's just from your drink. It's actually quite warm in here."</font> Skye smiled wanely, then patted the bed. <font color="skyblue">"Where are we? I don't recognize this... it'd be easier if someone would light a torch or something. I didn't think I'd sleep until nighttime."</font>

Lyulfe frowned again at this odd comment. There were some torches already lit, and even though the lighting wasn't the best, it shouldn't have drawn any comment from a halfelf who has infravision. There was also her strange chill... and the way she kept looking around whenever he talked. <font color="darkseagreen">"Skye, look at me,"</font> he ordered, and she obediently turned her face towards his voice. Peering into her eyes, the pupils were dilated and unseeing, a sort of grayish film over the normal blue-violet tint.

Skye remained unphased by Lyulfe's strange comments, and stared straight ahead. Hearing two voices and some clanking, her expression brightened. <font color="skyblue">"Oh, is Tancred here? And..."</font> she frowned briefly in thought. <font color="skyblue">"Joram! Did I get your name right? I'm not very good with names,"</font> she appologized. Lyulfe's nostrils flared as they caught a whiff of something besides alcohol on Skye's breath as she jabbered on. Something sweet, almost sickeningly so. <font color="darkseagreen">"Skye, you shouldn't excite yourself after having so much to drink,"</font> he chidded her, and hummed a dragon tune that quickly lulled her to sleep despite her protests that she had something important to tell Tancred.

Beckoning to the two men, Lyulfe strode out of the pavilion. The two exchanged glances at the dragon's odd behavior, and followed. They found the dragon striding back and forth agitatedly, muttering something about knights and bloody noses. Looking up, he scowled. <font color="darkseagreen">"Do any of you know that knight that Skye bloodied up? Is he inclined to drink and be free with women?"</font> Greeted with blank stares, he sighed exasperatedly. <font color="darkseagreen">"Skye's poisoned, most likely with whatever was in that pouch that you,"</font> he pointed at Tancred, <font color="darkseagreen">"Tried to taste. The knight must have been poisoned by some sort of drink, most likely by the person who hired him to begin with. They must have known his reputation with women, and that he'd attempt to force himself on whomever they hired to carry out the job of beguiling our Paladin here."</font> Lyulfe gestured at Tancred again with a frown. <font color="darkseagreen">"Who ever planned this is good... doesn't keep any lose ends. But we have to find an antidote to this poison... I am unfamiliar with it."</font> he drew a shakey breath. <font color="darkseagreen">"Skye's already lost her vision... and with her chills, I'm unsure as to how much time she still has."</font> Lyulfe looked up at Joram and Tancred, and they could see the pain and worry in his draconic purple eyes. <font color="darkseagreen">"Maybe there was someone else that was supposed to do the job, that Skye replaced. We could find her..."</font> the dragon grasped desperately at ideas, not wanting to lose his only friend to a sweet death.

Tancred’s face falls as Lyulfe tells his fears; first white with fear, then red with anger… and lastly darkening.
A voice, crooning and sickly-sweet, echoes in his mind.
“I bumped into you earlier, girl, but I had no idea you were one of this great knight’s closest companions…”
The hell you didn’t, Ursula! Murderous thoughts come, unbidden. The HELL you didn’t!
He stumbles past the dragon, back into the pavilion, hands outstretched - already mumbling a prayer. Lyulfe and Joram are already behind him, yelling words at him, but he’s deaf to them.
A faint but pure white light begins to glow from his hands as he lowers them to touch Skye’s forehead…
“Woah, woah! WOAH!” yells the sword at his side.
Tancred doesn’t listen to Karnas much, if ever. Something makes the knight pause, though; an urgency, a seriousness in the mage’s voice that he cannot remember hearing before. Something even more striking than the impassioned pleas of the squire and the dragon.
“What?” asks the paladin irritably, still in the traditional lay-on-hands stance. “Karnas, I can cure this!”
“You don’t just… MEDDLE with poisons and curses without knowing what they are, you moron!” snaps Karnas. “You know the drill; this doesn’t seem like any normal poison now, does it?”
Tancred looks back at Skye, noticing with alarm the cold sweat forming on the Bard’s brow as she sleeps. Miraculously – or perhaps mercifully – she remains asleep.
“For god’s sake, you idiot, listen to the damn sword!” Lyulfe growls.
“Then… what?”
“Draw me. Lay me on the bed for a moment. Let me work.”
Tancred stands there for a moment longer. He looks from face to face; Joram, Lyulfe. Both are nodding, slowly.
He waves his hands, and the light fades from them. He draws his sword with a frustrated grunt, and lays Karnas down by Skye’s side.
The golden light surrounding the sword glows for a moment, and Karnas is silent…

Karnas Looks at Skye. Not just looking, but Looking; focusing his own impressive willpower and channelling it into her body, searching for whatever it is that…
He withdraws his thoughts and backs off as if stung. Careful, careful, he thinks to himself. That didn’t feel good at all.
He moves back in, slower this time. The power he felt at work in Skye had the feel of a snarling beast about it; alert, wary, ready to spring at any moment. He moves up and down Skye’s spirit, watching and noting what he sees, occasionally dodging around the more dangerously affected areas.
At the last, he finds what he is looking for; a pulsing, magical thing, alien to Skye’s body (he assumes), at the base of her heart. He moves in, closer and closer, a step at a time; he can feel the power of this thing, and is determined not to trip any safeguards that may be in place.
He stops at the last, as close as he can get, and Looks.
He gasps. Awe washes over him, and despite himself and the situation Karnas smiles.
Now THIS is Art…

“Well?” asks the cavalier.
Another five minutes pass. Lyulfe begins to tap his paw nervously. Joram begins pacing the room. Tancred realises he’s gritting his teeth, and tries not to.
“WELL?” he asks at length.
“Aaah…” Karnas’ voice comes at last. “Whoever made THIS little beauty certainly has my professional respect.”
“Oh dear.”
“What you’ve got here is a masterful piece of work; a magical poison, almost a curse… some kind of long-term nastiness. This reminds me of something old Abi-Dhalzim would try, and he was GOOD. Just like a spell would, it’s got resistances and a certain sense for when someone’s trying to remove it. It’s got an amazing grip on her system already; a normal curative spell or prayer isn’t going to shift it.”
“But a cleric with real power could?”
“Wait, wait, let me finish… See, that’s the MAIN effect. But from the look of it, there’s three other subpoisons built into this, three independent curse-like spells, and they’re all watching the main curse AND each other. Try to cure THIS – even tinker with it – and it’d all come crashing down. She’d most likely die instantly. Most likely you would too. Maybe it’d take out the whole pavilion field, I dunno.”
Silence reigns in the small pavilion. Someone whimpers; Tancred can’t be sure it wasn’t him.
It falls to Joram to make things perfectly clear. “So… only some kind of antidote could stop this?”
Karnas makes an inward-whistling kind of sound. “Well… that’s if there IS an antidote. I certainly never bothered making curses and spells that could be reversed. Someone paid hard cash for this, boy. I daresay whatever massive fee was involved bought a guarantee as well. That said… I suppose searching for one isn’t going to hurt, and it’ll give you something to do tonight besides wailing and gnashing your teeth at Dead-Girl’s bedside here.”

OOC: We're a bit ahead of ourselves here; Legolas, feel free to reply to my inquiry in the last post, and I guess we'll retcon it in...

[ 01-23-2003, 01:53 PM: Message edited by: Tancred ]

"We don't have a clue as to where to search, do we?"

Joram stuck his head out the door and peered up at the sky, almost expecting to find some dark omen amidst the stars. As it was, all he saw was the dark underside of a large, cloudy blanket. He shrugged and turned his gaze to Skye.

"I suppose we'll go search, and then heroically find some antidote at the very last moment. Well, we'd better."

But Joram was well aware of the difference between facts and fiction, and didn't hold much hope. It was a dark night indeed.

Tournament, Flask of polish, Help out Tancred, Antidote, ...
what else? what was he missing?

'"...Joram... are - are you alright, man?"

He looked up at the sound of his name, his vision oddly blurry at first, but soon he regained his focus.

"Pardon? Yes, yes. Just... off in my thoughts. Have I ever told you about Billy? Of course I haven't, forget I asked."

The knight scratched his head, not failing to notice the ravenblack strands were getting greasy. He added 'taking a bath' to his mental list of things to do.

"You were saying something about a favour, weren't you?"

With a glint in his eyes and the hints of a smile forming, something resembling the cheerful daytime squire seemed to return to him.

"I'm afraid I don't have my handkerchief on me right now.
Oh, for the gods' sake, don't look at me like that. What's on your mind, Tancred?"'

Take a bath. And don't forget.

Help out Tancred. What was it he'd said again?
Closing his eyes, Joram tried to recall the rest of the scene.

Tancred gives Joram a very puzzled look. After a few moments - he can hear Lyulfe speaking to Skye in the background - he relents.
"Well, if you say so... it's nothing major. I need a spare sword and a helping hand if I'm going to the banquet pavilion and confront - what?"
Lyulfe has walked past them, and is beckoning them outside. The two men get the sudden, unpleasant feeling something's afoot...

Dead silence once more.
“The… the knight from the inn... the one with the bloodied surcoat! He looked like one of the Orkney clan. They do have something of a reputation for being ladykillers, possibly even a little brutish. It’s perhaps undeserved, but one or two do play up to it.” Tancred takes a deep breath. “I suppose it’s possible that knight’s not dead yet; the Hospitallers would have taken him to the tourney hospital, possibly. If… if Skye is still…”
Tancred trails off. He stares into space for a moment, shakes his head, and continues.
"That... that man is the only one - besides Skye herself - who might know what that girl looked like, and who she was. If not him, then... we'll just have to go to the tavern and make enquiries, and hope."
Or go to the banquet pavilion and hurt de Gossard until she coughs one up, a furious voice yells from somewhere deep inside him.
He picks Karnas up from the bed, and sticks him into the ground.
“Hey!”
“Karnas, you’re on sentry duty,” orders Tancred. “Watch Skye for any change. You can see things we can’t – that includes any scum sneaking up on this place. You watch for them as well.”
"And what about you?"
"I daresay I'll be able to find another sword somewhere..."
Karnas sighs. "No, I mean - if someone DOES come in here, what the hell do I do exactly? Growl at them until they go away? Call for help in a feminine voice?"
Inwardly, Tancred groans. The mage has a point, damn him. With no limbs (let alone the arsenal of magical spells he could command when embodied) Karnas isn't the best of bodyguards/bedside nurses.
All of a sudden, he is in two minds. One half of him would accept the task of keeping watch over Skye. Vital task, least he could do, and all that. This part of him seems to cough nervously. The other would rather prefer being out there, on the Quest for the Antidote(TM). For a moment, neither side is as persuasive as the other.
A thought comes. You're a better Fighter than you are a Healer... on the other hand, so are the other two. When it comes to drawing short straws, you're in a class by yourself, Tancred.
"Um... perhaps someone should stay with her?" he looks at the other two, hoping for a volunteer.

[ 01-26-2003, 07:03 AM: Message edited by: Tancred ]

Tancred starts to squirm a bit under the pressure of the silent stares from the other two.

Lyulfe stared from Skye and out the pavilion and back again. His vision slowly drifted up towards the Paladin. The poor guy seemed to be taking the situation pretty hard. <font color="darkseagreen">"I'll stay with her,"</font> he said gruffly. <font color="darkseagreen">"If she ever comes to, she'll probably want to see..."</font> he paused awkwardly. <font color="darkseagreen">"Hear someone's voice that she's familiar with. But if you need help getting the antidote out of someone,"</font> he spread his wings slightly and seemed to grow threateningly large, <font color="darkseagreen">"Just call me."</font> He sat himself next to Skye, his expression unreadable. Lyulfe had obviously dismissed Tancred and Joram from his attention.

ooc- hmm, i dunno if its such a good idea to have to 2 sidekicks alone in a room, with the object of "interest" ;) [img]graemlins/hehe.gif[/img]

[ 01-25-2003, 08:31 PM: Message edited by: Skydracgrrl ]

Tancred looks back at the Dragon and the bard for a moment before turning to Karnas, still in the ground.
"You be good now," he tells the blade.
"I'm always good. It's what I'm being good AT that you should worry about," quips the evil mage.
The knight makes to leave the tent. On a whim, he pauses, and pulls a battered pot-helm out of his discarded knapsack. There's a faded family crest on the brow, but the rest is just as old and weathered as the rest of Tancred's armour. Looking at it for a moment, Tancred sighs.
He puts it on, and is ready to go.
"Shall we?" he asks Joram.

OOC: For only the SECOND time in his RPG life, Tancred is now immune to critical hits! Look out, world... :D

As far as the sidekicks go, well... when you get down to it, it's aEvil wizard talking to a Good dragon. They can't get organised, co-operative or even in agreement about anything... can they? o_O

[ 01-26-2003, 06:39 PM: Message edited by: Tancred ]

OOC: Some time after the knights have left...

There's a little silence in the tent. Lyulfe is watching Skye, and Karnas is trying to keep himself amused by Looking all around him. Then, thinking through magical formulae in his head. Then imagining painting a picture; the lack of usable arms means imagining himself being creative is the closest he can get to it. After a while, though, the sword can restrain himself no longer.
"So, tell me, monsieur lizarde," smarms Karnas in full bonhomie fashion. "I've been dying to ask, and here seems as good a time as any - how on earth did you end up travelling with such a complete ditz?"
It seems the current situation has not made Karnas feel the need to be any less blunt than usual.

[ 01-26-2003, 07:58 PM: Message edited by: Tancred ]

Lyulfe looked sharply at the sword, then grinned. <font color="darkseagreen">"Well, it wasn't exactly by choice... she happened to find my egg gathering dust in some old antique shoppe, and I hatched. As it so happens, we're something along the lines of brother and sister, I suppose. Happened under strange circumstances."</font> The dragon glanced towards the doorway of the Pavilion and asked <font color="darkseagreen">"How'd you end up stuck with the prude Paladin? I don't suppose it was entirely by choice either..."</font> he smirked.

ooc- actually, although Skye is good neutral, Lyulfe is somewhat more chaotic than she is... :D

[ 01-26-2003, 08:02 PM: Message edited by: Skydracgrrl ]

"A shop of curiosities... yes, that seems fitting..." Karnas muses. "If any of this was my choice, I'd be out of this sword and causing havoc, let me tell you. As it happens... did you know that there was once a Holy Order dedicated to me? My safe containment at least." The mage takes a moment to savour the smug reality. "Ancient old crumbling castle, in the middle of no-where. The last of them - an aging old fellow, name of Villiars, despairing of his task, didn't have the strength to keep the wards that held me up and running."
"Then... well, one day, a boy - barely seventeen, hungry, tired and on the run from some family dispute - knocks on the door and asks to be a member of the Order. The old fellow takes him in, tries to teach him what he can - but it isn't enough. In the end, the old boy dies, the young boy realises there's no sense staying put - and takes me with him."
Karnas gives the impression of a grin. "Worst mistake he ever made... mind you, if it hadn't have been for me, he'd have ended up dead a dozen times over, of course. I'm sure you feel something similar."

OOC: Must... resist... urge... to edit... any... further...

[ 01-26-2003, 10:53 PM: Message edited by: Tancred ]

With Tancred beside him and something to do, the night seemed a lot brighter.
"You know," Joram began as the two armoured men walked through the forest of giant man-made toadstools, "I could get used to this adventuring life again. Helping the helpless, protecting the.. protectionless... pricing the priceless, uhm, licing, ehr, well, and so on. It feels good to be doing something, well, useful."
The figure beside him emitted a hollow, metallic sound Joram thought passed for agreeance.

They walked in silence a while, Joram remembering the knightly vows he had taken and how life in his father's court had prevented him living by most of them. In darker moods he would have wondered if perhaps people didn't really care about vows and honour anymore, if it wasn't just the ceremony that counted these days. Not tonight. This time he brought his mind back to the mission, no, quest, at hand before it could drift down those paths.

"Tancred?"
Again that sound coming from within the pothelm.
"If your friend is poisoned, should we perhaps try running?"

Tancred seemed to think about this.
Eventually, he 'mmm'ed in agreement, his voice sounding strange from within his helm, and began to pick up the pace. The clattering noise of two knights in armour resounded through the camp.
"To the hospital!"

"This... reminds me... why I always... meant to remember... to... buy a horse," gasps Tancred as the two knights thunder their way through the camp. There is an eerie silence, broken only by the clattering of their armour; almost every knight is away at the First Banquet of the tournament, exchanging backslaps and hearty stories over tankards of ale, and most grooms and servants have taken lodgings outside the camp.
The Tourney Hospital Pavilion is much larger than any other pavilions, save perhaps the immense Banquet Tent. White and airy, it stands before the two knights as they approach, jogging as they go.
The pair stop for a moment, catching their breath.
They do not have time to stop for long – raised voices can be heard inside the pavilion. Voices with edges to them.
Tancred curses his lack of sword.
“Come on!” he cries, as he runs to the tent flap. “If we are too late, I’ll never forgive myself!”

ooc- right.. disregard this post! [img]smile.gif[/img]

[ 01-28-2003, 09:51 PM: Message edited by: Skydracgrrl ]

ooc- And I had bothered to go and create a post for the "minor" characters... :rolleyes: ah well... Tancred, what happened to that tune you had for your sig? :( I liked it [img]smile.gif[/img]

OOC: Ah, well then, I tell you what! Post your ready-made post, I shall remove mine... and replace it with some kind of lead-in 'reaction' post if I can, or whatever. If you do, I'll put the jingle back in my .sig. Deal?