(Casual D&D IV) A Knight for a Pawn

[Guilt Puppy]

Heading north, the first's day's travel passes without incident, and so too does much of the second. As the sky begins to redden with evening, however, you sight a trio of riders cutting across the road. All three are dressed in kind, dark brown, well fit cloth underneath a heavy armor made from ruddy leather, bearing the golden tower (or, in this case, yellow) on both chest and shield. It is the mark of Tourne.

They stop, apparently sighting you as well. The two in the lead march forward a few paces, heads cocked; the third stays in place, only turning his horse sideways, keeping his head trained in your direction.

 

[Festy_Dog]

He looks at Nurthk sadly, "I don't weigh much, you can ride with me and Whistler. I think we might both have to pack our armor onto Bastrop. Might not be the best idea."

Nurthk follows Oliver's gaze to the rocks below. Gale was the second of three animals he had gotten killed since the journey's beginning. They weren't just any animals, but ones that had trusted him. It felt bad, and he couldn't help remembering the failed rescue.

Before he had the chance to ask himself any bothersome questions he responded to Oliver.

"Kind of you to offer, but knowing us we'll need our armour before too long. It's about time I started using my own legs anyway," Nurthk replies.


* * * * * *


Upon sighting the horsemen Nurthk fiddles with his scarf.

"I suppose these are the guys who don't like scarves?"

 

[DrZombie]

OOC : Raven was scouting ahead. If he spotted them before they spotted him, he'll go back, warn the others and try to hide about 30 feet away from the road, so he can attack them from the flank if things go nasty.
If they spotted him first (at a distance) he'll wait with an arrow nocked but not drawn or aimed. (yeah, he's a bit paranoid after being ambushed a few times )

 

[dpdx]

"I suppose these are the guys who don't like scarves?"

"I would not suppose it differently, my good friend. Everyone! Scarves off!" Fendric offers urgently from behind Hiritus.

Hiritus, whose scarf is already off, eases Justice into a slow walk. "Welcome to Tourne..."

 

[Guilt Puppy]

Raven moves into hiding, apparently unseen by the riders. As they move to encounter the rest, the lead among them raises a hand rigd -- whether it is meant as "hello" or "halt" is unclear -- and then begins to approach. The second rider follows, keeping pace about six feet behid; the third maintains his position, horse standing perpendicular to the road.

"Hail," the lead mutters, flatly, barely audible above the hoofbeats of his approach. "You cross now into the Tourne. State your reason."

 

[dpdx]

Fendric dismounts from behind Hiritus, and calls out to the border personnel, "I am Brother Fendric of Hedrogura, and our purpose in Tourne is for delivery of messages to Lord Kildre Vemaunt, and to Sir Rienne Vaustus. These are my companions, and we travel together."

 

[Sparky]

Oliver hadn't ever worn the scarf, a suspicious old coot, and hadn't needed prompting to put it away when they were headed into Tourne. He notes that the rider calls it 'The' Tourne. Like a Tourne was a kingdom or a steppe or something like that. He cocks his head to study them as they approach.

The wind, the grass, the calls of birds and bugs all seem suddenly loud. Oliver's attention is riveted by some clumps of grass that have grown up in ruts in the road. Grown there despite the passage of wagons and people and beasts of burden. He looks up at the rider, his thick bushy eyebrows raised.

 

[Guilt Puppy]

"Lord Vemaunt and Sir Vaustus?" The question is almost rhetorical, and it is unclear whether he is doubtful or simply curious. After considering it for a moment, he merely shrugs, nods, and continues.

He surveys the group, dull but wide eyes peering out from beneath his leather cap. "Have you Crown's consent?" He looks, and seeing a lack of recognition, continues. "Arm and armor are fine on open road out here, but in the cities and through Hyronne you'll need to forfeit, or get a note of consent."

He reaches into his saddlebags, pulling forth an olive-green sash. The cloth is thinning and frayed, and stained with many subtle hues (perhaps it wasn't quite so olive to begin with?). It is laced briefly through a plain copper medallion, which bears the mark of Tourne as well.

"The Crest and Crown of Tourne extend permission to travel our dominion," he says, with the steady monotone of too-practiced recitation, "on condition that you abide its laws, and commit no ill act upon it, nor advance the interest of its enemies, and that you pursue your stated purpose expeditiously, and linger not after its ends have been achieved."

"Have you any question?" he asks, finally, holding out the sash in offer toward Fendric.

 

[Sparky]

Oliver watches Fendric for his response. Trouble has followed in our wake - or we're keeping just one step ahead of it - no matter what our intentions. Hope that's good enough.

 

[dpdx]

Fendric walks calmly toward the border patrolman, holding his hand out to accept the sash, and Hiritus watching closely. "Light Be With You, stalwart defender! If we are attacked while upon Tournean soil, and if we defend ourselves in a manner commensurate with the threat, I expect this is within the bounds of acceptable conduct, is it not?"