Distant shores: Chapter 1 - The voyage North

[Kazilan]

Machaon

Machaon shook his head at the offer to go visit the blacksmith.

"I could use a few moments to prepare my things, if that is ok. You can leave me here while I do so. I didn't take the usual care with my pack last night as I went to bed, and could use a moment to sort everything to its usual order."

Machaon pushed his half-eaten breakfast to the side and then hefted his pack and gently placed it on the table. He pulled open the top flap and begin rummaging around inside of it, taking a moment to remove a large tome.

"My recipe book," he announced, before he dove back into the pack. "Go ahead," his muffled voice drifted out from inside the container. "This will take a few minutes. I'll be here when you return."

[dplax]

For Rastheme and Aneuhl:

Jonas led the way as he guided Aneuhl and Rastheme to the armoury Armus had mentioned. From the outside the outside the building did not look like much, the shutters on the second floor hanging loose in their frames, and several of the windows cracked or broken. But on the inside, the ground floor showed the loving care of its occupant.

William Grings was a giant of a man, measuring close to seven feet in height. He wore but a simple tunic, which hinted at the massive muscles under it. He looked to be in his late fourties, possibly early fifties, with a thick black beard reaching down to his chest, and with the same colour hair let loose onto his shoulders.

The ground floor, which must have been his shop and workplace was neatly ranged, the different types of weapons seperated along the walls. All of the weapons looked as if they had been made in the last two weeks and never used before. Knowing that William Grings was the largest weapon supplier in Dosrothon, it was not surprising that most of what he had in his shop was new.

Three younger men, possibly apprentices were also in the shop. Two of them were sorting out a large pile of used weapons and armour towards the back of the shop into two piles. William Grings and the third apprentice were kneeling next to a large furnace at one of the side walls, a red hot large sword in the hands of the former and a bellows moving rhytmically up and down in the hands of the latter.

Hearing the door to the armoury open, William Grings looked up. He recognized Jonas, who visited the smithy often on Council business. He motioned to one of the two apprentices in the back of the smithy to take over his place at the furnace and came to greet Jonas and the two with him.

"Welcome, welcome. You'll excuse me if I don't shake your hands, but mine bear the marks of hard labour." He held up his large palms which were covered with dirt and sweat. "How may I help you?"

"These two gentlemen wish to be outfitted with weapons and armour," Jonas said motioning to Rastheme and Aneuhl.

"Gary! Come over here you lazy slob!" the smith shouted. The third apprentice, who was still at the back of the shop came running. "You see to the needs of this young lad here, will I'll see what I can get for Master Dwarf."

"One more thing," Jonas said, interrupting before the smith could continue "the Council shall be paying."

"Very well. Now Master Dwarf. What do you need?"

A few feet away Gary looked unsurely at Aneuhl, then followed his master's example. "What do you need, sir?" he asked the half-elf-half-goblin.

[dplax]

Armus

After Jonas had left with Aneuhl and Rastheme, Armus was left alone with Machaon and two more guards. Armus hefted up his pack, in which that morning he had packed all of his belongings.

"I'll see to the horses are prepared, and then I have a bit of personal business to take care of before we leave. I shall be around midday at the Eastern Gate. The others shall most likely have finished by then. Could you tell them also that we should meet around midday there? If you have any questions or anything you need, don't hesitate to ask either Seph or Asal here." Armus pointed out the two guards.

Armus started leaving, but turned back. "I nearly forgot. The stables are at the back of the council buildings. There shall probably be several horses you shall be able to choose from."

Armus lifted his pack to his shoulder, and left the hall through a side exit.

[Calaethis Dragonsbane]

Aneuhl had hung back until Gary addressed him, suddenly feeling a bout of overwhelming shyness. For once, his curiosity held no place and although in his mind, he could feel all the various minerals and metals, he blocked all but the most interesting out.

“Well,” Aneuhl glanced around helplessly, “A sword would be nice. Maybe some armour?” The half elf-half goblin sighed, “This could take a while… mind if I try a few things?”

At the apprentice’s go ahead, Aneuhl walked over to the nearest weapon rack…

“Oof. Far too heavy. definitely not this one.” Aneuhl discarded the claymore, having barely been able to lift it, let along swing it and set it down with a dull ‘clang’. Aneuhl sighed; that was the fifth sword he’d been through. He had not even attempted to lift a mace or morning star. Far too heavy. The spiked ball and chain just scared him. Too afraid he’d hit himself with it, he had moved onto single bladed weapons. A spear might be nice, but again, it was too much weight…

…Eventually he reached the shorter swords and immediately, his eyes fell on one and instantly, he had to have it. It was slightly curved and somewhat long, but not too long. A very graceful weapon - “What is this called?” the half elf-goblin asked staring intently at it as he gingerly picked it up. “A what? A fal-chion?” he shrugged, “A good a name as any. Falchion it is then.” Aneuhl hefted it a couple of times and nodded, “Nice weight – just right. I like its swing.” He was beaming and placed the blade at his side, not exactly modelling it, but trying to establish its weight. “Now… a few daggers might be nice…”

Moving on to the dagger rack, Aneuhl selected a brace of throwing knives and a couple of long dirks, one of which he stuck in his boot and the other in his belt. The combination of blades actually suited him. Neither were overly heavy and they fitted his frame well. “Let’s take a look at the armour, shall we? Then onto the bows!”

Well, the next twenty minutes were… interesting if not fun. The breastplate Aneuhl tried succeeded in not only making him fall over with a louder clang than the smith beating the latest metal object, but actually succeeded in giving him a slight concussion. It cleared after a few moments, but it put the youth off metal armour entirely. He would not even touch the scale mail. Instead he settled for soft leather with metal studs and ringlets. The greaves he wore were practically a second skin and clung to him so that they may as well have been. It did however; actually compliment his appearance, the soft browns suiting him. Taking a pair of darker leather shin-high travellers boots, these were reinforced and made stiff at the shin, effectively guarding it. While it would not fend off a lot of weapon blows, it would at least protect his legs from brambles and the like. For his torso, Aneuhl picked out a leather jerkin which was reinforced with ringlets and a fine chain-mail weave to wear atop of it. It was not heavy but it would serve for now. As Aneuhl had insisted earlier, he had no intentions of going toe-to-toe with a warrior packing full plate. His gauntlets were joined to bracers and archer’s wrist guards, and again were leather and ringed. He also picked out a fur-lined cloak to compliment his jerkin from the shop down the street, as well as three green tunics of varying colours. Taking a light blue and a grey tunic for variety, he picked up two sets of socks and a white silk shirt for good measure. Finally, he picked up some soft fur-lined leather gloves for when he wasn’t wearing his gauntlets. Grabbing a rucksack to hold everything in, he thanked the tailor and the smiths before heading across to the last couple of stores.
“You don’t think this will be too much, do you?” he asked the bowmaker in concern, as he glanced at the number of arrows in the quiver, “I wouldn’t need more than ten would I? Maybe fifteen?” he had been voicing his issues with the man for the past three or four minutes and had haggled on the number of arrows the young man wished to take. “All right – ” Anuehl agreed finally, “Twenty it is – and some arrowheads and feathers.” He had already purchased (thanks to the council) a short elegant bow which somehow matched his falchion so rightly, Aneuhl could have sworn they were sold together as ‘brother and sister’. He wasn’t sure which was which though and hadn’t decided either. The case and quiver hung from his side neatly, and with his falchion on his left, he felt ready to leave.

The last store he stopped at was a herbalist’s where he picked up a few travellers biscuits and a few herbal salves. Aneuhl had the foresight to know that journeying through a forest, particularly one away from civilisation – would no doubt hold all manner of itchy, annoying beasties. From bugs to plant rashes – Aneuhl wanted no part of it. Usually his skin was quite good, but he did not trust it to chance. So instead, he purchased half a dozen of the best anti-itch and anti-rash lotions he could, getting a couple of strange looks in the process. He just smiled sheepishly and with his awkward charm, managed to wheedle out a couple of smiles in return.

Checking his waterflask, he checked his pack one last time, ensured his bedroll was wrapped up tightly and bound, his silken blanket was also wrapped up tightly, and his fur-lined cloak (Aneuhl got cold easily at nights), and his belt purses were secure and all the itty bitty things needed for such a journey – before heading back to the smithy. With a smile, he greeted Gary and Jonas and thanked them again and contented himself to wait for the dwarf to finish up – if he had not already.

[Morgeruat]

Rastheme

The dwarf examined the goods, most of what he needed he carried. While most outfitters would arm their guards they usually wanted it back at the end of the trip, which made preparing himself more important given the corners some employers were willing to take with substandard arms (which quickly led to dead caravan guards). After a few the first bad experiences with a cheap employer he had returned to his homeland and purchased weapons and armor that were to his own standards, not what a caravan master might be willing to settle on. As such he had a very critical eye for flaws, weight and balance issues, and any sort of weakness he could determine. He selected a half dozen light hand axes (weighted for throwing) and three large daggers, weapons emphasizing speed and skill for their death dealing capabilities rather than brawn or large cutting edges. He also selected a small hammer and chisel, looked over the rest of the goods, and complimented the smith on the high quality of his goods. He glanced over the armor, but dismissed it, his own was more than sufficient. Then he thanked the man, put four of the axes into his pack, and tucked the other two into his girdle, and returned to the room the counsel had prepared.

[dplax]

For Rastheme, Aneuhl and Machaon:

Newly armed and outfitted, Aneuhl (struggling to carry all of his new equipment) and Rastheme returned to the vast halls of the Council, where they met with Machaon, who told them where Armus was meeting them.

~~~~half an hour later~~~~

"Ah! There you are!" Armus greeted them just inside the city gates. "So, ready to..." he cut off noticing Rastheme sitting uneasily on top of his horse, who seemed as uneasy as the dwarf on top of him. "Are you sure that you want to come on a horse, Rastheme? I'm sure that we could find a pony or a younger horse for you." Armus glanced at his other companions. "Incidentally, if you have anything else you want to take care of while we are still here, then now is the time."

[ 05-07-2006, 07:32 PM: Message edited by: dplax ]

[Morgeruat]

Rastheme

Rastheme glanced about trying to hide his nervousness, "I'll be alright, I prefer to be closer to the earth, but travel is faster this way, and if we're all trying to race about somewhere I'd rather not be on a horse that can't keep up." He clucked softly and urged the horse forward with some light pressure from his heels and practised to see how much the horse knew, whether he could turn it with just his knees, or if he'd need to hold the reigns as well.

[Kazilan]

Machaon

Machaon sat uneasily on his horse, gripping the reins slightly too tight. He had some experience riding the animals, but had never achieved a sense of proficiency. It was as if horses could sense his unease and refused to allow him control. At the moment, however, the horse and rider were coexisting admirably.

"I am as ready as ever. My pack," Machaon gestured at the thick bag resting on his shoulders, "is organized and ready for travel. Lead the way, Armus, and rest assured that all the benefits of modern alchemical knowledge are at your disposal."

[dplax]

For Rastheme, Aneuhl and Machaon:

No fanfare bade farewell to those whose task it was to save the world. No dignitaries came out to wish them luck and a hasty return. Indeed, if something had to be said of the departure of Rastheme, Aneuhl, Machaon and Armus then quiet would have described it best. Not even the about half a dozen guards at the Western Gate said a single word as the four riders left the city of Dosrothon behind them.

The birds and beasts in these parts were still oblivious to what was happening barely five days riding to the north, where their kind fell in masses to the deathly hand of this mysterious disease. It was a hot summer day, the early afternoon sun beating down heavily on any who travelled across the open plains.

Our four heroes chatted amicably, getting to know each other, for they would most probably be travelling partners for long weeks, possibly months. They cared not of the perils they would come to face for they seemed to be still far away, several leagues to the north.

The miles seemed to fly past and slowly the landscape changed, groves of trees, forebearers of the forests to come, began appearing, breaking the monotony of the grassland. The heat was starting to lessen and the sun two-thirds of the way on its journey towards the horizon, when Machaon spotted a group of riders rapidly moving towards a group who seemed to be travelling on foot.

Moving at their current speed the group of four will most likely reach these two groups in about fifteen minutes, maybe ten if they pushed their horses slightly.

[ 05-14-2006, 06:44 PM: Message edited by: dplax ]

[dplax]

For Nytia:

Gweanna's brow creased, indicating that she was deep in thought.

"Yes, now that you have said it, I can also recognise the patterns in the movements of our feathered friends, although their flight still seems strange to my eyes. It's lucky we have someone who was born here with us. Your help was appreciated, young one."

It was the closest to a praise Nytia had ever heard from her elder. It was not that Gweanna did not appreciate what initiates accomplished, but rarely did she voice praise, not wanting her students to become overconfident.

"If you see the danger approaching us, then there is nothing we can do to evade it. Running away from it would not be a solution, that much I can see from the flight of the birds myself. We shall then meet it bravely, and try our best at preserving our values."

They lifted camp and continued their journey slowly northwards, covering four miles before they spotted the riders coming straight towards them. Just as they could make out the faces of the riders a crow landed on a flat stone not twenty feet away with a glint of menace in its eye and let out an angry squawk.

All druids knew that this was a bad omen, and they steeled their resolve.

"Let me do the talking," Gweanna said, speaking mostly to the initiates.

The group of six riders, clad in ring mail and bearing naked swords bore down at them, riding hard. Four of the riders came to a halt in front of the group, while one rode past on each side, circling the group. One of the four at the front, clearly the leader, looking a good twenty years the senior of his companions adressed Gweanna.

"These lands belong to the Baron Monsza. You have to pay for your passage through here or face the consequences."

Despite claiming to be the servants of a baron, the rider bore no visible sign of allegiance and their armour wasn't as well kept as could have been expected from a baronial guard.

"Do you have some official paper about this fee?" Faldorn, one of the other full druids asked.

"Let me put it differently then." Suddenly the sword came as if from nowhere and left a gaping wound in Faldorn's shoulder. "There might not even be a Baron Monsza, but the important thing is that the eight of you will pay us or pay with your lives." The look in the bandit's eyes left no question as to whether he would kill them or not.

"But we are simple travellers! We only have the money needed for our bare sustenance!" Gweanna pleaded while two of the initiates comforted Faldorn.

"Money, valuables, anything you have. And if we are not satisfied with the yield, then..." the finger drawn across the bandit's throat indicated clearer than any words could what he intended.

For the first time since Nytia knew her, Gweanna looked utterly hopeless.

[ 05-14-2006, 07:38 PM: Message edited by: dplax ]