The Bold Adventures of Poins--On the Town


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Faulker nods. "Well, spend it well," he says with a chuckle. He gestures to the front yard. "The barracks are over there."

OOC: You each get one coin, RR.
 

Rhialto said:
Faulker nods. "Well, spend it well," he says with a chuckle. He gestures to the front yard. "The barracks are over there."

OOC: You each get one coin, RR.

Weel bows his head, then backs away, moving in the direction Faulker points.

"Well, then, I suppose we should find ourselves some quarters. A good day to you, Sir Faulker."

Weel stops once he's in the yard again, waiting for the others before actually proceeding.
 




"All right then. Let's get rid of some of the road gear, then maybe we'll have time to head back into town. We still have the goblin's sword and wand to sell. Maybe that'll net us enough money for some of those shiny amulets, eh? We could use a little luck I'd say."

With that, Weel heads over to the barracks, looking for where, exactly, he'll be resting his head.
 

The barracks are a walled-in area, filled with tents, one of them a large one with gold trimming. About a hundred or so soldiers are keeping themselves busy there, cooking, sleeping and the like. Many of them are wounded. A large group of them are listening to an attractive Ulheru woman playing on the lute, and singing. The men are cheerfully stamping to her tune.

"Oh, bravely went forth Alamor, into the jaws of his foes--To save the life of his son, beset on all side by woes! With sword and spear ready, the Emperor did cut through their fearsome line, as Prince Accolon kept fighting though suppine! Alamor took his son up, and placed him on Enemy's Rue. 'I will not leave you here!' shouted that valiant prince so true. Alamor shook his mighty head, and put his blade in his son's hand. "I die as I live, my boy, making a desperate stand." And then the stallion charged off, and as Accolon did see,
Alamor with only spear fought the enemy. He fought until his spear broke--he fought til body tired--he fought until finally, from grim wounds he expired."


The men are growing silent as the song reaches its climax. "Oh, Alamor was the Black Lion! And Accolon he was the Red! And all brave men of Syra revere the field where the Black for the Red Lion bled!" Raucous cheering begins. "So all hail Alamor! A true emperor he! He went into hardship and he went into death willingly! Yes, hail, hail, hail to the Black Lion! Hail, hail, hail--"

"What is the meaning of this?" says a strong dark voice. It belongs to a man standing in the entryway of the tent with gold lining. He is clad in fine, but tattered and stained clothes, a battered cloth-of-silver cape slung over his shoulders. His face is handsome, but heavily lined, with an eyepatch over his left eye. He seems tired, and perhaps a little ill. "Why are you singing--THAT song?"

"Sir," says the Ulheru, hesitatingly. "It is the Lay of the Black Lion. A well-loved song for Syran soldiers."

The man grits his teeth. "It is not well-loved by me." He glances at two of the soldiers near the front of the crowd, who were showing especial enjoyment of the song. "You two! Grab this Ulheru!"

The pair scramble to their feet and do so. The man regards her coldly. "Now, Ulheru, I have done you a great favor by allowing you to stay in this camp, and sing to my men. And this is how you repay me? By treachery?"

The Ulheru begins to stutter and stammer, incoherant.

Faulker rushes up from behind the recruits, holding out his hand. "Sir--Lord Guy--you know this song! I sang it for you during the Khuldeshian campaign. It is no treason--it is a monument to the nobility of the Syran Empire!"

Guy glares at the stately old man. "Faulker, do not seek to counsel me in these matters. The songs I loved in my youth have become the songs I hate in my manhood." He turns to regard the Ulheru coldly. "As I said, treachery. And treachery is a debt that must be paid. I am a man who pays his debts."

Faulker falls to his knees. "Sir--I beg you--the song is suspect, I admit, but--she could not know. It is such a well-loved song elsewhere--she could not know."

Guy's hand is going back to his cloak. "Ignorance is no excuse before MY law." He draws out a crossbow, and points it at the Ulheru. "Seldina Cadu, I, Emperor Guy the First, True Emperor of Syra, Sitting in Defiance, do judge you a traitor and caitiff, and sentence you to death." With that he fires his crossbow cleanly into the Ulheru's belly. She shrieks, convorts, then falls over dead. The two soldiers release her body, somber. Guy glances over his men. "The next man I hear singing traitorous songs of Alamor the Bastard, or any of his sons--no, of any of the Alamorian line--will recieve forty lashes. So I decree." He turns to Faulker, glaring. "To your feet, old man. Do not humiliate yourself further."

Faulker rises, unsteadily. "Indeed, sir. As you wish." He gives a stately bow. "Always--as you wish."
 
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