The Elfblood Wanderers--New Story Hour!!
- Thread starter Bob Aberton
- Start date
Bob Aberton
First Post
Thank you, Aurora, and here it is:After two days of beaurocratic wrangling, Nystyra was beginning to realize why there weren't more castles in Avalon.
It had taken her two days just to get an audience with the Mayor of the Free Township of Urglath. Now, the fifteen minute audience was nearly at an end, and almost nothing had been resolved.
"I would like to obtain a charter for the construction of a keep on the hill known as Greytop Knoll," Nystyra had said, after cordial formalities had been exchanged.
"Miss, look around you," the mayor said, almost pleadingly. "the Free Township is about to go to war. We can't afford to go building more castles. Besides, we are a Free Township. We have no nobles and we want none."
"I will provide the labor for the building," Nystyra said patiently. "And I am no noble. My mother was a woodcutter's daughter."
"Be that as it may, a License to Crenellate may only be sponsored by the reigning king," the mayor said. "And, as you know, Avalon hasn't had a king for over a century."
"The Council of Lords acts as Regent, as you surely know," Nystyra said. She had read a good deal on the law of the realm, suspecting this was going to be a hard fight. She had been right. It was.
"Then go to the Council of Lords, for all I care," the mayor said. Thinking he had won, he returned to ruffling his papers.
"I notice you seem to be making ready for war," Nystyra commented casually.
"Yes, yes," the mayor said distractedly. "Our neighbor to the north, Lord Meiron ap Dwllynm, is making incursion on our borders."
"I could be a valuable ally," Nystyra said. "Greytop Knoll would stand between you and any invading army."
"That...that is true..." the mayor said. He looked up from his papers, peering at her intently.
"I have many connections within the Sor...the Brotherhood of Merlin, you know," Nystyra said. The mayor looked interested. He didn't know that the Brotherhood, or the Sorceror's Guild, as it was more often called, never involved itself in any events not directly related to the good of Avalon, and a petty border dispute was certainly not such a matter.
"All you have to do is sign a License," Nystyra said confidentially.
"Well...I..." but even as the mayor spoke, he was already signing a large, official-looking document. "You will have to swear an oath of alliance to the Free Township of Urglath, you know."
"I do not mind," Nystyra said, reaching eagerly for the License. The mayor drew back, holding the coveted parchment just out of Nystyra's reach.
"But you'll have to do a small service for me first," he said, with a satisfied grin.
Another Quest, Nystyra thought with a weary sigh.
"As I said, our neighbor to the north, Lord Meiron, has been raising an army and making incursions on our borders. In the good old days, when there was a strong King, this sort of thing would never have been stood for, but the Council of Lords is weak and divided. I have a friend in the Captain of the Dwllyn Guard. If you should meet him, he will ask about my health. Tell him, Never better, where the air is Free. He will know you for a friend, and he will protect you. It is up to you, however, to find out what Lord Mieron intends to do, whatever methods you use. He is a very crafty gentleman, Lord Meiron, and he is always up to some plot or another. I suspect it is rather a hobby of his, making up these plots. Tell me about his plans, and you will get your License," he said. He seemed very smug that he had managed to turn an annoying and unwanted visitor into a useful spy.
So it was that Nystyra went back to the Leaky Keg, where the Wanderers were staying, and told them of what had transpired. The reactions were mixed. Math and Mathonwy clearly wanted nothing, or at least very little, to do with adventure, after Math's near death experience. Eliad was happy to have something to do, as was his Tankard, which he was amusing himself with by using Gnomic magic to make it talk, often scaring random passersby half to death. Damara was disappointed that it would involve little fighting, and while Diesa said she would go, she also warned them that she had to return to the home of Clan Swifthammer, for news had to be brought of Ulfgar's death and Smedir, their Clan's oldest relic, had to be presented to a new Clan Champion.
But Nystyra managed to cajole, plead, and otherwise entice all the Wanderers to join her on her mission of espionage. Thus it was that, after putting the grey man in care of the Church, they found themselves once more trudging down a long, rocky road. This time, in the rain.
"So, tell me again," Diesa grumbled, "Why we are running errands for a petty official in a backwater town."
"You said you'd come along," Nystyra said, somewhat more sharply than she had intended.
"I don't know why I did," Diesa said. "Here I am, trudging in the rain, to some place that I care not a whit about, to spy for the mayor of another place I care not a whit about, so that you can get your little piece of paper and use Dwarven labor to build yourself a castle. Huzzah for you."
Diesa had been in a foul mood ever since the rain had started. Having lived her life underground, she didn't even know what it was, and Nystyra suspected that this whole business was an unpleasant irritant to the dwarf woman.
Soon enough, however, they reached the gates of Dwllyn. It was a small, cramped-looking town, crammed into a tiny space between a crescent of walls and a huge castle, which seemed to speak of Lord Meiron's delusions of grandeur. In front of the gate was an armed camp. A sprawling tent city had been set up, and it was teeming with soldiers, weaponsmiths, and camp followers. Nystyra was reminded of the state of Urglath, but on a larger scale.
Like in Urglath, a seemingly endless chain of wagons brimming with all sorts of supplies; iron ore, leather, cloth, dry goods, medecines, and foodstuffs, was rumbling through the village gates, straight into a scene of chaos.
People were everywhere. Hawkers hawking their wares, peasants in carts full of provisions, children laughing and yelling, soldiers arguing, and the occasional brawl made for a din almost too much to bear. As they reached the front gates, they were stopped by a squad of scruffy-looking soldiers. They were all dirty, unkempt, and wearing poorly maintained armor, all except for one.
Tall and handsome, he wore a halfhelm and a brightly burnished breastplate over shining chainmail. a spear was in his hand and a sword hung at his side. His eyes were keen and piercing.
"Who are you and where do you hail from?" he demanded imperiously.
"We...we hail from Urglath," Nystyra said, a bit timidly, to the imposing figure before her.
"Ah, Urglath. I used to know the mayor there. How is his health? I trust he is well," the captain said, although he didn't alter the frigid tone of his voice any.
"Never...Never," Nystyra started to say. She could feel a cold lump in her chest. If she had been led false, this keen-eyed swordsman could have her hung as a spy. What if he had changed allegiances? "Never better...where the air is Free."
The man looked at her sternly, and Nystyra almost quailed at his stony gaze. But then she hardened her heart. She had faced outlaws and even a demon on her travels. She was a hardened adventurer, and Elf-friend, a former apprentice of an Adept of the Sor - the Brotherhood of Merlin, and soon-to-be noble. What did she have to fear?
"You may pass," the Captain of the Guard said, waving her on with his spear. Nystyra breathed an inward sigh of relief. She had passed the first test of her career as a spy.
Some hours later, when the Wanderers were in the common room of an inn (oddly enough, it was named 'The Leaky Keg' as well), the Captain of the Guard came in. He wasn't wearing his armor or his uniform, but Nystyra could tell him by the piercing gaze of his eyes and the disgust evident in his face at the den of thievery, murder, and assorted other crimes the Wanderers were sitting in. It was an unsettling thought. If I can recognize him, Nystyra thought, then what about the learned and experienced rogues and spies in evidence?
Regardless, the Captain meandered furtively over to where the Wanderers were sitting, and struck up a conversation.
"So," he said, "You are the spies of Urglath that the mayor has sent."
"Thats r - " Nystyra started to say, but the Captain cut her off.
"I don't have much time here before I'm recognized. I'm already under suspicion. But, here is what I can do: for a start, I can get your dangerous-looking friend here -" he gestured at Damara. "- a position in the Watch. As for yourself, you look to be a mystical type. Lord Meiron is quite superstitious. He would appreciate the support of a Witch like yourself. But be warned. He is very dangerous. He is wise, clever, and ruthless, and, more importantly, he trusts no one. So watch yourself. I can send word to him that a..."
"A fortuen-teller," Nystyra said. She was beginning to get the germ of an idea.
"...right, a Witch and a Seeress named..."
"Sindell the Portent," Nystyra said, without missing a beat.
"...name Sindell the Portent seeks him out and would favor him with her services. Does that sound to your liking?"
Nystyra said that it was, and the Captain rose to leave.
"One more thing," he said. "Be very careful. If you get caught, not only will you be hung, but they will torture you and then I and my fellow spies will be hung as well. If ever again you want to meet, ask the bartender for the 'Royal Room.' It is a safe room, and the bartender is very trusty, as true as steel. Good luck, Miss...no, don't tell, me, it's better that I do not know your name. Safer that way."
****************************************************
Thus began Nystyra's career as a spy. Hopefully, I'll be caught up to where the campaign is at in another 4 or 5 updates...
It had taken her two days just to get an audience with the Mayor of the Free Township of Urglath. Now, the fifteen minute audience was nearly at an end, and almost nothing had been resolved.
"I would like to obtain a charter for the construction of a keep on the hill known as Greytop Knoll," Nystyra had said, after cordial formalities had been exchanged.
"Miss, look around you," the mayor said, almost pleadingly. "the Free Township is about to go to war. We can't afford to go building more castles. Besides, we are a Free Township. We have no nobles and we want none."
"I will provide the labor for the building," Nystyra said patiently. "And I am no noble. My mother was a woodcutter's daughter."
"Be that as it may, a License to Crenellate may only be sponsored by the reigning king," the mayor said. "And, as you know, Avalon hasn't had a king for over a century."
"The Council of Lords acts as Regent, as you surely know," Nystyra said. She had read a good deal on the law of the realm, suspecting this was going to be a hard fight. She had been right. It was.
"Then go to the Council of Lords, for all I care," the mayor said. Thinking he had won, he returned to ruffling his papers.
"I notice you seem to be making ready for war," Nystyra commented casually.
"Yes, yes," the mayor said distractedly. "Our neighbor to the north, Lord Meiron ap Dwllynm, is making incursion on our borders."
"I could be a valuable ally," Nystyra said. "Greytop Knoll would stand between you and any invading army."
"That...that is true..." the mayor said. He looked up from his papers, peering at her intently.
"I have many connections within the Sor...the Brotherhood of Merlin, you know," Nystyra said. The mayor looked interested. He didn't know that the Brotherhood, or the Sorceror's Guild, as it was more often called, never involved itself in any events not directly related to the good of Avalon, and a petty border dispute was certainly not such a matter.
"All you have to do is sign a License," Nystyra said confidentially.
"Well...I..." but even as the mayor spoke, he was already signing a large, official-looking document. "You will have to swear an oath of alliance to the Free Township of Urglath, you know."
"I do not mind," Nystyra said, reaching eagerly for the License. The mayor drew back, holding the coveted parchment just out of Nystyra's reach.
"But you'll have to do a small service for me first," he said, with a satisfied grin.
Another Quest, Nystyra thought with a weary sigh.
"As I said, our neighbor to the north, Lord Meiron, has been raising an army and making incursions on our borders. In the good old days, when there was a strong King, this sort of thing would never have been stood for, but the Council of Lords is weak and divided. I have a friend in the Captain of the Dwllyn Guard. If you should meet him, he will ask about my health. Tell him, Never better, where the air is Free. He will know you for a friend, and he will protect you. It is up to you, however, to find out what Lord Mieron intends to do, whatever methods you use. He is a very crafty gentleman, Lord Meiron, and he is always up to some plot or another. I suspect it is rather a hobby of his, making up these plots. Tell me about his plans, and you will get your License," he said. He seemed very smug that he had managed to turn an annoying and unwanted visitor into a useful spy.
So it was that Nystyra went back to the Leaky Keg, where the Wanderers were staying, and told them of what had transpired. The reactions were mixed. Math and Mathonwy clearly wanted nothing, or at least very little, to do with adventure, after Math's near death experience. Eliad was happy to have something to do, as was his Tankard, which he was amusing himself with by using Gnomic magic to make it talk, often scaring random passersby half to death. Damara was disappointed that it would involve little fighting, and while Diesa said she would go, she also warned them that she had to return to the home of Clan Swifthammer, for news had to be brought of Ulfgar's death and Smedir, their Clan's oldest relic, had to be presented to a new Clan Champion.
But Nystyra managed to cajole, plead, and otherwise entice all the Wanderers to join her on her mission of espionage. Thus it was that, after putting the grey man in care of the Church, they found themselves once more trudging down a long, rocky road. This time, in the rain.
"So, tell me again," Diesa grumbled, "Why we are running errands for a petty official in a backwater town."
"You said you'd come along," Nystyra said, somewhat more sharply than she had intended.
"I don't know why I did," Diesa said. "Here I am, trudging in the rain, to some place that I care not a whit about, to spy for the mayor of another place I care not a whit about, so that you can get your little piece of paper and use Dwarven labor to build yourself a castle. Huzzah for you."
Diesa had been in a foul mood ever since the rain had started. Having lived her life underground, she didn't even know what it was, and Nystyra suspected that this whole business was an unpleasant irritant to the dwarf woman.
Soon enough, however, they reached the gates of Dwllyn. It was a small, cramped-looking town, crammed into a tiny space between a crescent of walls and a huge castle, which seemed to speak of Lord Meiron's delusions of grandeur. In front of the gate was an armed camp. A sprawling tent city had been set up, and it was teeming with soldiers, weaponsmiths, and camp followers. Nystyra was reminded of the state of Urglath, but on a larger scale.
Like in Urglath, a seemingly endless chain of wagons brimming with all sorts of supplies; iron ore, leather, cloth, dry goods, medecines, and foodstuffs, was rumbling through the village gates, straight into a scene of chaos.
People were everywhere. Hawkers hawking their wares, peasants in carts full of provisions, children laughing and yelling, soldiers arguing, and the occasional brawl made for a din almost too much to bear. As they reached the front gates, they were stopped by a squad of scruffy-looking soldiers. They were all dirty, unkempt, and wearing poorly maintained armor, all except for one.
Tall and handsome, he wore a halfhelm and a brightly burnished breastplate over shining chainmail. a spear was in his hand and a sword hung at his side. His eyes were keen and piercing.
"Who are you and where do you hail from?" he demanded imperiously.
"We...we hail from Urglath," Nystyra said, a bit timidly, to the imposing figure before her.
"Ah, Urglath. I used to know the mayor there. How is his health? I trust he is well," the captain said, although he didn't alter the frigid tone of his voice any.
"Never...Never," Nystyra started to say. She could feel a cold lump in her chest. If she had been led false, this keen-eyed swordsman could have her hung as a spy. What if he had changed allegiances? "Never better...where the air is Free."
The man looked at her sternly, and Nystyra almost quailed at his stony gaze. But then she hardened her heart. She had faced outlaws and even a demon on her travels. She was a hardened adventurer, and Elf-friend, a former apprentice of an Adept of the Sor - the Brotherhood of Merlin, and soon-to-be noble. What did she have to fear?
"You may pass," the Captain of the Guard said, waving her on with his spear. Nystyra breathed an inward sigh of relief. She had passed the first test of her career as a spy.
Some hours later, when the Wanderers were in the common room of an inn (oddly enough, it was named 'The Leaky Keg' as well), the Captain of the Guard came in. He wasn't wearing his armor or his uniform, but Nystyra could tell him by the piercing gaze of his eyes and the disgust evident in his face at the den of thievery, murder, and assorted other crimes the Wanderers were sitting in. It was an unsettling thought. If I can recognize him, Nystyra thought, then what about the learned and experienced rogues and spies in evidence?
Regardless, the Captain meandered furtively over to where the Wanderers were sitting, and struck up a conversation.
"So," he said, "You are the spies of Urglath that the mayor has sent."
"Thats r - " Nystyra started to say, but the Captain cut her off.
"I don't have much time here before I'm recognized. I'm already under suspicion. But, here is what I can do: for a start, I can get your dangerous-looking friend here -" he gestured at Damara. "- a position in the Watch. As for yourself, you look to be a mystical type. Lord Meiron is quite superstitious. He would appreciate the support of a Witch like yourself. But be warned. He is very dangerous. He is wise, clever, and ruthless, and, more importantly, he trusts no one. So watch yourself. I can send word to him that a..."
"A fortuen-teller," Nystyra said. She was beginning to get the germ of an idea.
"...right, a Witch and a Seeress named..."
"Sindell the Portent," Nystyra said, without missing a beat.
"...name Sindell the Portent seeks him out and would favor him with her services. Does that sound to your liking?"
Nystyra said that it was, and the Captain rose to leave.
"One more thing," he said. "Be very careful. If you get caught, not only will you be hung, but they will torture you and then I and my fellow spies will be hung as well. If ever again you want to meet, ask the bartender for the 'Royal Room.' It is a safe room, and the bartender is very trusty, as true as steel. Good luck, Miss...no, don't tell, me, it's better that I do not know your name. Safer that way."
****************************************************
Thus began Nystyra's career as a spy. Hopefully, I'll be caught up to where the campaign is at in another 4 or 5 updates...
Bob Aberton
First Post
Wednesday Night *BUMP *
[edit] And I'm glad you like it, Horacio
[edit] And I'm glad you like it, Horacio
Last edited:
Bob Aberton
First Post
Oh...
An apology to my readers....
An apology to my readers....
Bob Aberton
First Post
alright...
check your Storyhour in about 4 hours...I am going away right now and cannot post yet...
check your Storyhour in about 4 hours...I am going away right now and cannot post yet...
Bob Aberton
First Post
Nope, never
I was gonna post an update now, but I got lazy and didn't write it...
So instead, I post this:
I will be on vacation for the next week or so. All you friendly readers (I know you're out there somewhere ) I trust you to keep this beloved storyhour on the first page...
I was gonna post an update now, but I got lazy and didn't write it...
So instead, I post this:
I will be on vacation for the next week or so. All you friendly readers (I know you're out there somewhere
) I trust you to keep this beloved storyhour on the first page...Similar Threads
