Tales of the Roving - City on Wheels

[DrowArchmage]

Rohan had often seen mad men being held, but the man in the cage didnt seem dangerous. Looks could be decieving however, so he approached with caution. He simply ignored the gaurds and dismounted when he got close enough to look into the cage.

Hey, you in there. Quit with the rattle and speak with me for a moment. You seem to have something to say, but no one to listen to it. he reached for his canteen. Drink?

[dplax]

He glances curiously at the figure standing outside of his cage, a canteen halfway between them. Is this an honest gesture to help a half-starving prisoner or is it some trick and what is in that canteen is something other than simple water. He doesn't and cannot know. But then one of his guards decides for him, stepping next to Rohan and knocking the canteen forcefully from his hands.

"No food or drink is to be given to the prisoner, except by his guards!"

Of course the guard has dual reasons. He doesn't want the prisoner to enjoy the comfort of a simple drink out of the spite he feels for him. And he does not want to see the prisoner poisoned either, for that would mean failure in his mission.

The prisoner just keeps looking at Rohan, curiosity still written on his face. But he does not speak, not while the guard is just next to him. He wonders whether this man is the one, who had crouched next to his cage and spoke to him earlier.

[DrowArchmage]

Rohan sighed and turned his head to look at the gaurd.

I hope you plan on picking that up. It was a gift from one of my uncles, see the Red Hand on the cap? he kept his voice neutral if not a little cold. And if you dont plan on picking it up, well, lets just say that your going to wish there was someone here with enough authority to put me in a cage.

The last was said coldy enough that the gaurd should have had ice coming from his nose, Rohan's hand was ready to draw his sword in an instant, there wasnt a chance in any hell that this man would beat him. Years of hard training under grizzled vetrans, plus honing his skills on bandits, had put him on top.

So, have you made your choice?

[dplax]

The guard defiantly glared back at Rohan, trying to quickly remember whether this was some young noble that he shouldn't insult, or whether it was someone that he could. He decided on the latter.

"We only take orders from our own lord. You are clearly not him." He made no move for the canteen, but motioned for one of his companions to be alert, in case this man tried something foolish.

"My orders are to take this piece of scum," he motioned at the prisoner, "to our destination...alive. Interfering with that would be a sure way for you to find out whether I actually have the authority to give him a cell mate or not." He put his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, ready for any trouble.

[DrowArchmage]

Rohan's stern face slowly broke into a smile. So, this man had some tough to him eh? Maybe this gaurd would be interested in a real job if he survived the trip.

"Well,i certainly am not your lord. My Uncles always told me that sometimes a nice gesture now may earn you an ally later. Prisoners sometimes make their destinations in better health when the gaurds dont act like sons of goats. But i guess that's how you were taught to do it here......?"

He ended it as a question, as if asking for a name. Rohan never took his eyes off the gaurd, but felt subconsiously for the empty space he found when in battle,just in case.

[dplax]

"It is unwise to call armed people names. It is also unwise to try to tell people how to do their job, when you have shown no proof of knowing how to do it better." The guard was obviously annoyed at Rohan.

"As to your question. No one needs this piece of filth as an ally. Once we arrive at our destination, he is going to spend the rest of his days in a dungeon, with no hope of release." He turned and walked back towards his companions, voluntarily ending the conversation.

[DrowArchmage]

Rest of his days eh? He mused to himself. You must have done something pretty bad then eh?

Rohan picked up his canteen and fastend it back to his belt. If the guards were so set that this man shouldnt be treated humanly, then he wasnt going to get into a rub with them over it. He was more about respect than anything, and obviously these guards had no respect except for their Lord, which was fine except that it meant they disrespected him, which was not alright with him.

Sorry to cause you more trouble.He said to the prisoner. Have faith.

With that, he returned to his horse.

[Legolas]

The droning of a quarter thousand hooves leads the dirt in its day-long dance. Accompanied by the creaking of the wheels and the axles driven through their hearts, it is a walz to whirl the moisture from the air, and mask the very colour of that old brown road.

Men grow mesmerized by the eternal repetition, the ghost-world where a lone and stunted tree becomes the most exceptional of landmarks, a totem of change in a world no different with every turning of the spokes.

The two lame mounts towards the back, keeping the thudding hoof tally below the quarter thousand and two, amble along with lowered heads.
Then, their ears perk up. Five carts to the fore the shrill voice of a young man cries out in alarm. He rides a wagon laden with carefully carved and oiled furniture, tables and chairs from a region where timber was plentiful enough to waste on the feeding of flames.
His father at the reins scowls, demanding he keep quiet, but the youth keeps glancing back and about, certain of something in the mists.

[dplax]

Well-trained guards are among the first to realise that the young man might be right in his fears. Ears used to the sounds before a battle pick up the familiar noises of steel against steel, noises which can hardly come from a caravan of merchants, unless the blacksmith were to practice his trade in a moving wagon.

Weapons are loosened in scabbards and a few tense orders given. Three of the Rattler's guards mount their horses and set off to the left of the caravan from where the noises come.

In his cage the Rattler slowly gets interested and gives the slightly loose bar a strong shove. It rattles in its socket, the sound echoing for a long time among the surroundings. When one of the guards gives him a stern look, he flashes him a wicked, almost knowing smile. Inwardly he hopes that the number of those guarding him would at least be halved before nightfall.

One can always hope...

[DrowArchmage]

Rohan watched as the Rattler's gaurds rode off toward his right, their left. He adjusted the hood of his cloak, its multi-colors shifting in the stale wind.

He thought about riding after them, maybe just to look after them, just in case there was something there. He slowly started foreward, then thought better of it and stopped. Instead he rode slowly toward the nearest caravan, which incidently, was the Rattler's cage.

He looked at the remaining gaurds with a face of perfect calm, like he was made of stone, no not stone stone could break, a face like steel. He slowly raised an eyebrow and pointed toward what was now his left.

You only sent three?