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<blockquote data-quote="Scotley" data-source="post: 5486244" data-attributes="member: 11520">Spring was in the air. The weather was warming and clear. Several of the Hounds jumped at the chance to take a group of tired old horses from the stable out to a horse farm belonging to the order. A group of young horses was ready to be added to the stable. After the hard winter the countryside was said to be restive and it would not do to have the horses lost to yokels turned bandit. The journey to the farm was uneventful and the afternoon was spent in a successful bit of fowling. Tales of the hunt grew as the evening's drinking wore on. Though a bit cramped the farm provided adequate lodging. After a hearty breakfast the Hounds set off for the city with half a dozen grooms and two dozen fresh horses. The cold pheasant, some soft ripened cheese and a few bottles of wine from the farm would make a welcome picnic for the return trip. Even the Horsebread from the farm, a peasant bread made with oats and legumes as well wheat and rye, was a pleasant change from the Baguettes supplied daily to the Hounds by the Royal bakery. The sun was mild and warm and roadside flowers were beginning to bloom. The Hounds fell to companionable banter as they rode. Except for the some rather muddy stretches, the journey was one worthy of setting to verse. Alas, all good things must come to an end. As the amiable companions topped a rise the sounds of a barking dog could be heard ahead. Then more alarmingly, a feminine voice crying out for help reached your ears. A moment later a plump young woman in a torn dress with her disheveled hair trailing behind ran into view. &quot;Mesdame! Messieurs! The barbarians, they are pillaging the Roadhouse, please help us!&quot; She points back down the road. &quot;Please, quickly!&quot;</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Scotley, post: 5486244, member: 11520"] Spring was in the air. The weather was warming and clear. Several of the Hounds jumped at the chance to take a group of tired old horses from the stable out to a horse farm belonging to the order. A group of young horses was ready to be added to the stable. After the hard winter the countryside was said to be restive and it would not do to have the horses lost to yokels turned bandit. The journey to the farm was uneventful and the afternoon was spent in a successful bit of fowling. Tales of the hunt grew as the evening's drinking wore on. Though a bit cramped the farm provided adequate lodging. After a hearty breakfast the Hounds set off for the city with half a dozen grooms and two dozen fresh horses. The cold pheasant, some soft ripened cheese and a few bottles of wine from the farm would make a welcome picnic for the return trip. Even the Horsebread from the farm, a peasant bread made with oats and legumes as well wheat and rye, was a pleasant change from the Baguettes supplied daily to the Hounds by the Royal bakery. The sun was mild and warm and roadside flowers were beginning to bloom. The Hounds fell to companionable banter as they rode. Except for the some rather muddy stretches, the journey was one worthy of setting to verse. Alas, all good things must come to an end. As the amiable companions topped a rise the sounds of a barking dog could be heard ahead. Then more alarmingly, a feminine voice crying out for help reached your ears. A moment later a plump young woman in a torn dress with her disheveled hair trailing behind ran into view. [COLOR="Yellow"]"Mesdame! Messieurs! The barbarians, they are pillaging the Roadhouse, please help us!"[/COLOR] She points back down the road. [COLOR="Yellow"]"Please, quickly!"[/COLOR] [/QUOTE]

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