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"The Promised Land" - An Aquerra Campaign (Last Updated 1/23/04)
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<blockquote data-quote="Rastfar" data-source="post: 1043616" data-attributes="member: 9596"><p><strong>session #6</strong></p><p></p><p><strong>session #6</strong></p><p></p><p>“I, erm, just wanted to tell you how I feel.” Adair felt stupid. He was sure he must’ve looked it too. Only the dark of night could save him from witnessing the embarrassment that was surely exhibited on Hazel’s face.</p><p></p><p>The cooper gave chase, but was too many steps behind. The ornery man grumbled as he raced off after his nemesis. Malchiah seem pleased with quelling the debacle and returned inside.</p><p></p><p>Adair turned to realize he was alone with Hazel.</p><p></p><p>“Really?” She asked, aflutter with romance.</p><p></p><p>“Uh, yeah,” he stumbled. “I have for quite some time.” His shirt was suddenly itchy. He wriggled in place.</p><p></p><p>“Ohh, Adair,” she mused. “I, I….”</p><p></p><p>He hoped. ‘Oh, please,’ he hoped. If Jonas had messed up all these years of wonderful friendship he would kill him. But, what if? What if, somehow the fool had opened a portal through which access would now be granted him: entry to her heart. ‘Oh, please,’ he hoped.</p><p> </p><p>“…You’re so…so sweet.” She finished.</p><p></p><p>And there it was. Jonas was a dead man. Adair bowed his head, and drew invisible lines in the dirt with the toe of his boot. “Thanks.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, it’s late. I should get to bed and you should get outta here. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble. C’mere.” She beckoned.</p><p></p><p>He came.</p><p></p><p>She gave him a warm embrace. He closed his eyes; he did dearly enjoy this exchange. She let him go and closed the shutters. Adair heard the latch slip shut softly. He turned for home.</p><p></p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>Jebediah could hear the clamor outside. He could tell that it was coming from town, though he had no idea where. He could not help but wonder what was happening. He remained vigilant. Even after the ruckus died down and dissipated, he stayed alert. When he could last no longer in the wee hours of the morn, he rose from his post and sought out Gravis. The manservant had agreed to watch for the rest of the evening and took his turn in the comfortable chair. He flopped his feet up onto the Neergaardian. He set comfortably, the loaded crossbow laid across his lap. He was asleep before Jebediah’s door closed upstairs.</p><p></p><p>Jebediah retired to bed. There he wilted onto the covers not bothering to remove his armor. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.</p><p> </p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><strong>Anulem, 28th of Syet – 564 H.E. (Welcome Winter; Day One: The Great Fast)</strong></span></p><p></p><p></p><p>A gurgling, choking cough startled the ‘elder’ Adair awake. Laboriously, Wrenchard stirred. His caregiver was quick to wipe is brow. Aided, Wrenchard was able to sit up a bit, receiving a potable medicine. Swallowing hard, the manor’s lord clutched his chest.</p><p></p><p>“Who…found…me?”</p><p></p><p>‘First’ Adair did his best to provide a rough update, “Jonas.”</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard recalled the last of the prior day’s action. “Did he come…” he coughed, “…with the militia?”</p><p></p><p>Unable to provide all of the details that Wrenchard was anxious to hear, the healer summoned Jebediah.</p><p></p><p>The pilgrim Wrenchard knew as Jebediah was not the man who arrived. The man that now stood beside him was much taller in his full and natural height, seemingly younger, broader, and more full-figured. He was dressed in his finer armour, studded leather grieves and an ornate breastplate.</p><p> </p><p>Whatever he might have thought of the change, Wrenchard listened closely to the newcomer as he was briefed on what had transpired over the last few days.</p><p></p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>As usual ‘black’ Adair rose with the dawn to take the sheep to pasture. He knew that he would not be doing it for too much longer, so the lack of sleep from the night before did not bother him much. As he brought the flock out of town, he noticed that he was a few head short. (1)</p><p></p><p>Out in the fields he chatted a while with Van Feicht. Despite it being Welcome Winter, all seemed as normal as possible. He couldn’t help but wonder if Jebediah had been wrong.</p><p></p><p>Jonas had awoken earlier than usual, still expecting the worst. With no sign of trouble afoot, he too began to doubt the validity of Jebediah’s paranoid assumptions. The dilettante spent the earlier part of the morning practicing in the barn. He then headed out to the pastures to look for ‘black’ Adair.</p><p></p><p>Jonas found the shepherd boy there along with his good friend Van Feicht, who was eager to chat. Jonas begged off. Explaining that he had more important things to attend to, Jonas turned back towards town with Adair, leaving the older shepherd in the field.</p><p></p><p>“How’d things go with Hazel last night?” Jonas had to ask.</p><p></p><p>“Eh?” Adair was always a bit coy, or flighty, Jonas couldn’t decide.</p><p></p><p> “You know,” he pursued, “I softened her up for you with that song. Did you at least get a kiss or whatever?”</p><p></p><p>“Eh?” Jonas thought maybe Adair was hard of hearing. “She seemed okay. I don’t know…” Adair offered.</p><p></p><p>“Don’t squander this chance I tried to give you. Look, we’re either going to be killed by Menovians or about to go off on a dangerous journey, and I know for my part I plan to try to…<em>you know…</em>” He insinuated with a raised eyebrow. “…before I go, not that I haven’t before (2)…I mean. I want to do it again. You know, before I go.”</p><p></p><p>Adair just nodded his head knowingly, “Uh-huh. Yeah, I know.”</p><p></p><p>The two teenagers, continued through town. Jonas did most of the talking. As they neared the commons they parted. Adair headed towards the pub; Jonas had spotted something that peaked his interest. Motie, always a suspicious character in Jonas’ mind, was out and about. It appeared as if he was headed out of town. Jonas decided to investigate.</p><p></p><p>Being certain to stay back a bit, Jonas used the houses as cover as he tailed Motie to the edge of the hamlet and out into the surrounding hills north of town. As he pursued, it proved a harder task than he initially had suspected. Motie proved to be somewhat crafty himself. The diminutive Kendrit had heard a suspicious cracking of twigs behind him and began to duck and run for cover. Jonas afraid of being spotted also hid. The two of them engaged in a quiet battle of wits and subterfuge as they attempted to sneak up on, hide from, and follow one another. Ultimately, Jonas lost track of the sneaky little man. All attempts at recovering the trail failed. The fact that he was alone out in the hills did little to assuage his defeat. He quickly hustled back to town.</p><p></p><p>Adair was still curious about the Menovian situation. He first decided to pass by the alderman’s house but couldn’t hear any sign of the captain or sergeant there. Not wanting to push his luck too much, he instead continued on to the pub, where he was sure he would find some action.</p><p></p><p>Entering the long hall, he moved directly to the bar, using the pretense of getting a snack for lunch to observe the four remaining Irregulars. Sure enough they were here, and it appeared as if they were fully suited up and preparing to leave. From their rumblings he was able to derive that they had indeed been given the order to do so.</p><p></p><p>At the bar, Adair sat next to Lee Hoeberg who was busy warming his hands on a cup of steeped herbs. The two chatted idle Kendrit chat for a while. Gus kept himself busy in the back.</p><p></p><p>Minutes later, Adair had what he’d come for and left to mitigate the rest of his concerns about the present Menovian menace. He figured that if he could find Sterling and Malchiah, then he would be well-informed as to how the rest of the day may play out. Passing by the Commons once more, he found that all ten of the Irregulars horses had been saddled, and packed. They stood waiting, tethered in the commons, unguarded. Adair briefly entertained the idea of approaching, mischief on his mind, but quickly thought better of it and moved on.</p><p></p><p>He found them, eventually, leaving the alderman’s home. Nonchalantly, he stayed away, wanting to investigate the home as they left it and headed towards the pub.</p><p></p><p>He entered the house. He had never been inside before so he did not exactly know what to expect. The interior was not unusual: comfortable, neat, clean; all looked to be in order. No nefarious dealings, shady dais with altar for sacrifice or blood-soaked walls; Adair now had to assume that although Sterling and Malchiah were dislikable, they were not the omnipotent evil Setites that Jebediah made them out to be. He involuntarily chuckled to himself. He exited, pulling the door closed behind him.</p><p></p><p>Adair decide to follow them to the pub. Upon re-entering, Lee was still there, he quickly ascertained that the Menovians would indeed be riding out that day. It became clear that their Captain saw no need to linger around a hamlet where the plague was present. </p><p></p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>“That long,” Wrenchard asked. “How could I have been unconscious for so long?”</p><p></p><p>“You were on the brink of Anubis’ Realm.” Jebediah explained. Nodding toward the herbalist he continued. “You owe this man a great debt. He nary left your side for days.”</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard twisted his head slightly; his neck was sore. He saw that his benefactor was tired, haggard, and nearly emaciated. Yet the grim visage was softened by his smile, a beaming mask of success. He had never known the spirit of this man to be so strong; forcing life to grow from where there was little or no hope. It made Wrenchard realize the strength of his people; of Kendrits; of their sheer hard fought willpower.</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard nodded towards the healer, who was now drifting off to sleep.</p><p></p><p>“I can also tell you that your family is safe and well.” Jebediah assured. “And I want you to promise me that you’ll stay in bed and rest. Though we need you, you can do no good to anyone now, not in this condition.”</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard nodded agreement and smirked, “Where am I going to go?” </p><p></p><p>Jebediah explained a bit more about what he knew to be going on in the town.</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard, strained by the effort of remaining awake, realized the gravity of the situation that he’d narrowly escaped. He admitted, “I did not expect to awake.”</p><p></p><p>Jebediah recognized that he had stayed too long. “Would you like to see your wife?”</p><p></p><p>“Uh,…” Wrenchard paused. He knew he was not yet fit enough to endure the verbal assault he knew he had coming, “…I need my rest.”</p><p></p><p>“Very well,” Jebediah understood full well Wrenchard’s hesitation. “Before I go, one last thing. You have also lost something that I am sure was very precious to you; but like I said your family is safe and I’m sure that you will take solace in that.”</p><p></p><p>“What have I lost?” Wrenchard asked unenthusiastically.</p><p></p><p>Jebediah explained the incident involving the brandy.</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard nodded, “I understand, it’s for the good of the town. Probably wouldn’t have been able to transport it anyway.” He dozed off.</p><p></p><p>Jebediah left the two men to their rest, gently pulling the door closed behind him.</p><p></p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>Leaving the pub after the soldiers, Adair watched them head toward the Commons. He paralleled their path, heading toward the Valinson manor himself. Before long he heard the tell-tale sign of riders, thunderous hooves pounding the ground in dissonant rhythm. The earth trembled below his feet. He was reminded of the power of the band riding down the hill into Kendrick for the first time. His arm hairs prickled.</p><p></p><p>Not far away, Jonas was near re-entering the hamlet and also heard the exit of the Menovian threat.</p><p></p><p>Inside the Valinson home, Jebediah heard the commotion. He briskly walked to the kitchen and peered out the rear window. To his pleasure, he monitored the exit of the Irregular posse.</p><p></p><p>Adair drew near the Stilwell home, still watching the roiling dust whose locus was somewhere on the other side of the butcher’s house. As he passed by, the shepherd noticed the door was open. Smoke issued forth from the slender chimney, warmth invited from inside. He saw no sign of the huntsman.</p><p></p><p>Slightly curious he approached the doorway. Inside he saw the man’s belongings, including his pack, was left half open. At this proximity he could tell that Canton was nowhere inside.</p><p></p><p>Adair paused, ogling the backpack. It was full. The straps for the bedroll still lay unbuckled. The top flap was only buckled on the one side. He thought to himself how easy it would be just to slip in and grab it, or at least undo the remaining strap and just look inside.</p><p></p><p>After a few long seconds he shook his head and moved on.</p><p></p><p>It took Adair a few minutes to get Jebediah’s attention, drawing the refugee away from his post. After a bit of an exchange at the front door, he managed to get pulled in through the back door. The pretense of the plague was markedly diminished.</p><p></p><p>Once inside Adair told Jebediah of the Menovians egress. Excited, Jebediah conveyed that he knew and asked Adair for more information on the tracker.</p><p></p><p>Adair explained all that he knew, adding the names Pritchard, Horatio and Minerva as an after thought. This did little to appease the larger man’s thirst for knowledge. Jebediah, quickly learning to cope with the shepherd’s questionable memory, merely grunted with disappointment. </p><p></p><p>“When did you last see him?” Jebediah asked, wondering if perhaps the bulky man had left with the Irregular troop.</p><p></p><p>“Yesterday,” Adair replied.</p><p></p><p>The pilgrim’s spirits lifted. Adair thought that he might have even seen an unfamiliar smile beginning to eke its way across Jebediah’s lips. “Well, okay then.”</p><p></p><p>Adair smiled too. “Yeah, his stuff is still there. I could have taken his pack on my way in here, but decided not to.”</p><p></p><p>The inkling of relief vanished. “What?” Jebediah moaned.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, I have no idea where he is…” Adair continued, still smiling broadly.</p><p></p><p>“Ergh. I hope he’s not hiding somewhere.” Jebediah interjected, contemptuous of the short-sighted boy.</p><p> </p><p>“Look,” he added, “if he knows about you coming in and out of here, then it might be dangerous for you. So you have to decide if you want to stay here, and we’ll say that you got too close, or you can go out and take your chances.”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, I think I’ll take my chances.” Adair was quick with the reply.</p><p></p><p>“Very well then. You should get going before he comes back around.” Jebediah, disappointed, ushered the boy out.</p><p></p><p>Adair left unceremoniously, and circled the house as if returning from the pastures. As he passed the Stilwell’s he couldn’t help but notice the figure dominating the open doorway. Canton flashed his teeth.</p><p></p><p>He called out to the young man. “How do they fare with the <em>plague</em>?”</p><p></p><p>Adair waved, trying to ignore the sarcastic tone. “Uh, as well as can be expected.” It was a question as much as a statement. Not wishing to linger any longer, he hurried off to tend to the rest of his chores for the afternoon. </p><p></p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>Not far away, Jonas had wound his way back into town. It was good to know that the Menovians had finally gone. He found himself bopping along with an involuntary spring in his step. Jonas wound up at the most unlikely of places. He rapped at the door of the Tatum house. Realizing that he had never come calling before, he didn’t quite know what to expect.</p><p></p><p>Mrs. Tatum opened the door. Jonas knew that this was not it. Not to be discouraged, he gained his full stature and composed himself.</p><p></p><p>“Hello, Jonas.” She greeted the young man, standing in the doorway.</p><p></p><p>“Hello,” he attempted to sound authoritative, “I just wanted to let you know that the Menovians have left and things should be returning to normal.” He attempted to peer over her shoulder nonchalantly, scanning the sitting room beyond for Hazel.</p><p></p><p>Her eyes never left his. “Thank you for the update, Jonas.” Hazel’s mother emphasized the last word, calling him back to attention. “That’s very good to know. And why are you telling me this?”</p><p></p><p>“I’m in the militia, ma’am.” Jonas proudly declared, “It’s my duty.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh, really?” She looked at him in amazement. “I didn’t know.”</p><p></p><p>“Yup.” Jonas lingered awkwardly in the doorway.</p><p></p><p>“Well, shouldn’t you be going to tell everyone else?” </p><p></p><p>Jonas, always quick with wit replied, “Nope. This is my last stop.” In the room beyond he could see Hazel poking her head around a corner to investigate.</p><p></p><p>“Mother…?” Hazel called out, coming into the room.</p><p></p><p>As if she had forgotten her manners, she stood aside somewhat and gestured to Jonas, “Well, I guess we should invite you in. You must be tired and all.” She gave him the once over.</p><p></p><p>Jonas felt her scouring glare.</p><p></p><p>“Thank you, thank you,” he obliged and brushed past quickly.</p><p></p><p>Hazel eagerly motioned for him to sit down on a comfortable couch. Jonas did so leaving plenty of room next to him. He looked from her to the space and back again. She started across the room.</p><p></p><p>Mrs. Tatum closed the door and crossed the floor. “Hazel, dear, Jonas must be thirsty from all the work. Why don’t you bring us drinks?”</p><p></p><p>Hazel doubled back. Mrs. Tatum took the empty seat next to Jonas on the couch. “So Jonas,” to him it almost sounded as if his name was a curse on her lips, “I heard all that commotion last night.”</p><p></p><p>“Uh…”</p><p></p><p>Hazel was quick to return with the beverages. She offered steeped herbs around.</p><p></p><p>Jonas took his graciously and stood up. “Well, I do still have duty on the Breach. I shouldn’t stay too long. There is of course still the matter of Dralmohir, lest we forget.” He could feel Mrs. Tatum’s glare upon him. “So it might not be safe to, I don’t know,” he met Hazel’s stare, giving her a surreptitious look, “hang around a barn after sundown.”</p><p></p><p>Hazel smiled.</p><p></p><p>Mrs. Tatum stood now too. “Well, thanks for stopping by.” She said as she practically shoved him out the door.</p><p></p><p>Jonas wore a crescent moon smile all the way home as he raced to his barn to wait. </p><p></p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p> Jebediah’s mood grew graver. This turn of events did not bode well. He realized that he now had to confide in Wrenchard: the only other man of ostensible intelligence in this hamlet. He proceeded upstairs to seek an audience with the cartographer.</p><p></p><p>As per Jebediah’s request, ‘elder’ Adair exited the room, trusting the stranger’s best intentions. Behind closed doors the two discussed plans and speculation at length. The healer waited just outside. He could hear not more than low tones from inside.</p><p></p><p>When finally Jebediah emerged, Adair could see that Wrenchard was still awake, a look of consternation upon his face. He only caught the tale end of what Wrenchard had said, aloud as much to himself as anyone else.</p><p></p><p>“This is something that I’ll have to muse.”</p><p></p><p>Jebediah brushed by the man waiting in the hall, and without explanation or recognition continued downstairs.</p><p> </p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>Sometime later, a call came through the cracked barn doors. “Hello…?” It was Hazel.</p><p></p><p>Jonas jumped up with anticipation. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for. Surprisingly, his stomach was all-aflutter.</p><p></p><p>“Hello! Come on in!” He called from the loft eagerly, not wanting her to go away. He quickly tried to brush the hay from his hair.</p><p></p><p>Hazel slipped through the crack in the oversized doors and peered about for her admirer. </p><p></p><p>Jonas crossed the loft to the ladder and waved to catch her attention. Noticing that she saw him, he decided to attempt an impressive move. Continuing to hold her attention with his gaze, he slid down the ladder. In an effort to do so quickly, he rapped his knuckles on every rung going down. Jonas bit his lip to stymie the pain.</p><p></p><p>“Hey,” She said as she drew near.</p><p></p><p>Jonas tucked his hands behind his back. He dared not venture a look, sure that his fingers were broken.</p><p></p><p>“You’re a pretty good musician,” admired Hazel.</p><p></p><p>“Thanks.” The pain began to fade. “I have a song I’d like to play for you.”</p><p></p><p>“Really? You wrote a song for me?”</p><p></p><p>“Um,” Jonas hesitated. It was evident that Hazel had expected him to have one prepared already. Jonas again became suddenly aware of the pain in his fingers.</p><p></p><p>“Here, let me play it,” he floundered.</p><p></p><p>Given the familiarity of his lute, and his creative nature, Jonas did a fair job of creating an impromptu tune dedicated to the young woman. Sitting atop a hay bail, she looked on longingly. Jonas was encouraged. He finished the tune and scooted closer to her on the seat.</p><p></p><p>“You’re really good,” she offered. She tilted her head a bit to the side.</p><p></p><p>Jonas leaned in a bit closer, expectantly. His heart raced.</p><p></p><p>“And you don’t smell like sheep sh*t like everyone says,” Hazel continued.</p><p></p><p>“Huh?” Jonas’ heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. He reeled back with the involuntary reflex of the smack.</p><p></p><p>“Patty Boy. That’s what we, uh… <em>they</em> all call you,” she added.</p><p></p><p>Deflated, Jonas didn’t know if he could salvage the situation. “Really? Uh, thanks, I guess.”</p><p></p><p>As Hazel stood to leave, Jonas did little to prevent her from going. He was disenchanted.</p><p></p><p>“Well, I don’t wanna stay too long. Mother will be wondering after me. Thanks, you’re really sweet.” In a glimmer of hope she leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on his cheek.</p><p></p><p>As she ran off, Jonas thought to himself. ‘Well, it was a start.’</p><p> </p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>That night Kendrick was calm. More lights filled the valley almost as if an ominous shadow had finally passed. The Kendrits, though always aware of the creeping presence of Dralmohir, slept well. A soft snow drifted from the sky, raw fleece that padded softly to the ground. </p><p> </p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><strong>Ralem, 1st of Oche – 564 H.E.</strong></span></p><p></p><p></p><p>Most of the snow had melted before dawn, what little remained served only as a reminder of the weather to come. </p><p></p><p>‘Black’ Adair awoke with the sun. If not for his routine, he would have considered attending services at the Glory. For some reason he had never gone, and was now curious as to what exactly happened there. What was so appealing to the pious of Ra?</p><p></p><p>Instead he took out his wards for their final days in the meadows. He knew that the snow would come hard and fast soon. Winter cracked like a whip across the small valley. Soon the sheep would be cooped up in the barn for most of the season. He decided to remain the day, mulling over his own thoughts. </p><p></p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>When Jonas awoke, later than usual, which was usual, he headed right to the Valinson manor. Entering via the servants’ door, he found the house in disarray. Kelize apparently just had discovered the same thing. She appeared to be adding to the confusion. Obviously news of the Menovians passage had spread throughout the house, allowing its denizens to once again roam free.</p><p></p><p>Jonas entered the kitchen where Jebediah and Kelize were already arguing about the need for maintained secrecy. Constance chased by in a blur, pursuing Annabelle who relished the chaos, taking the opportunity to decorate the walls with a coal pencil.</p><p></p><p>Kelize turned on the young militiaman as he came in. As it this was the event that finally resulted in her loss of patience. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but only huffed and stormed out. Jonas felt the tension follow her from the room.</p><p></p><p>Upstairs, Wrenchard awoke from all the commotion. Feeling a bit better, he dressed. He then proceeded to the end of the hall towards the stairs, anxious to hear what all the hullabaloo was about.</p><p></p><p>Jonas noted the open cellar door. With one quick look at Jebediah, he could tell that the man was in no mood to talk. Rather than engage the surly pilgrim, he decided to just poke his head downstairs. An odd grunting noise seemed to be coming from below.</p><p></p><p>Jonas descended halfway down the rickety old wooden stairs. Below him he saw a makeshift living quarters. Lanterns suspended from floor joyces, cast a dim light throughout the entirety of the cellar. A few cots lay cast about, as well as some strewn children’s clothes. A well-worn rocking chair rested near a low-burning brazier in one of the corners. A comfortable looking, shabby, blanket lay crumpled on the seat. He caught the distinct odor of feces in the air. The grunt came again, from directly below him.</p><p></p><p>He continued to the bottom. Here he found an old man, squatting over a bedpan that had been positioned away from everything else, beneath the steps. With sweat on his brow, the man looked up at Jonas and winked.</p><p></p><p>Jonas cringed, “Uh, er,…” </p><p></p><p>The old man nly looked back at him and replied with another grunt.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah,” Jonas said, “I’ll be going now.” And he bounded up the steps two at a time.</p><p></p><p>Suddenly, Jonas cared little for what sort of mood Jebediah was in. “Do you know that there’s an old man down there? He’s taking a crap…”</p><p></p><p>Jebediah turned to him, “Uh, yeah. Listen, that’s not important right now. What is important is what’s going on outside.”</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard descended the staircase. He was shocked to find his living room in shambles. It looked nothing like what he’d expected. Dread curtains darkened the whole house. The furniture was a mess. The man of the house eyed the wine rack, or rather the outline of where it had been. He noticed piles of wood and a bucket brimming with some mysterious liquid. The acidic smell left him suspicious. Drawn to the noise in the kitchen, he continued down the hall, ignoring the barracks state of his dining room.</p><p></p><p>“Who is that guy?” Wrenchard heard Jonas ask as he entered the conversation.</p><p></p><p>“That’s Wrenchard’s father.” Jebediah answered. “Wrenchard, hello. Good to see you up and about.” He addressed his host.</p><p></p><p>“Wrenchard keeps his father in the basement?” Jonas continued the questioning, while looking around for something to nibble on. Seeing Wrenchard he turned to him, “You keep your father in the basement?”</p><p></p><p>“What happened to my wine collection?” Wrenchard asked Jonas.</p><p></p><p>“Well, what’s his name?” Jonas continued the line of questioning.</p><p></p><p>“What happened to my wine collection,” Wrenchard turned and asked Jebediah.</p><p></p><p>“I told you, some sacrifices were made for the good of the plans,” Jebediah offered as explanation.</p><p></p><p>This did not seem to satisfy Wrenchard as an excuse. Nor did it please Kelize to hear as she re-entered the kitchen, also drawn by the rising noise level. “Will you just look at the state of my house, Wrenchard?”</p><p></p><p>“What matters now is that the Menovians have left town, yes, but that tracker is still skulking about.” Jebediah thought to make his point.</p><p></p><p>Jonas waved off the past, “Listen, never mind, it’s getting late in the season…”</p><p></p><p>“What? Sacrifices? What are you talking about? What’d you do get ‘em drunk the whole time?!” Wrenchard’s familial inheritance was vanished. Twenty years of collecting was gone. </p><p></p><p>“Wrenchard?” Kelize tugged at her husband.</p><p></p><p>“…and I think that we ought to get going soon. Winter will be coming up soon, very soon.”</p><p></p><p>“What? Going where? Wrenchard?” Kelize badgered her husband.</p><p></p><p>“Did you know that a 13 year-old girl was raped and murdered?” Jebediah drove a stake into Wrenchard with his words. “Some people had more important things to worry about than alcohol.”</p><p></p><p>“I’m not talking about alcohol, I’m talking about…” Wrenchard became livid at such disrespect.</p><p></p><p>“I’m talking about getting our things prepared for our trip,” Jonas added, picking up on Wrenchard’s cue. He raised his voice audibly so as to not be ignored any longer.</p><p></p><p>“Wrenchard!” Kelize demanded her husband’s attention.</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard lashed back at Jebediah. “Winter is coming. My family will need…”</p><p></p><p>“EXACTLY! Winter <em>is</em> coming, and <em>we</em> need to get out of here,” Jonas added, stepping in front of Kelize, trying to drown her out.</p><p></p><p>Jebediah seemed to hear Jonas for the first time, “We’re still being watched by the hunter.”</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard, not quite finished, hesitated, “… and I…”</p><p></p><p>Jonas tried to appease his host, “Oh, just ignore him. That’s what I do.” He half jested, gesturing to Jebediah.</p><p></p><p>Kelize refused to be bullied aside, especially in her own house. “Wrenchard! This house is a mess! What do you plan to do about it!?” Her voice grated in his ears, clawed at the inside of his skull.</p><p></p><p>Jebediah was losing composure. He turned on Jonas, “What do you mean, <em>ignore me</em>!? I do not appreciate you being snide.”</p><p></p><p>Jonas changed tact, addressing both men now that he had their attention. “All I am saying is that instead of arguing about what you have already done, and instead worry about what we still have to do…”</p><p></p><p>“<em>Wrenchard!</em>” Kelize was infuriated.</p><p></p><p>Jonas lost his patience with Kelize, “Ma’am, <em>please</em>!?” He begged.</p><p></p><p>If there was one thing that Kelize could not stand it was being sassed, “Don’t you <em>‘Ma’am’</em> me!”</p><p></p><p><strong><em>”EVERYBODY QUIET!”</em></strong></p><p></p><p>The house went still as Wrenchard licked the foam from his lips. He was shaking with fury. He pulsed up and down with hard, labored breathing. The blood had run to his cheeks and his eyes were bloodshot.</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard flicked the foam from his mouth and pointed to his wife. Some fell on her shirt. She paid it no mind. “You!” He commanded. “Begin cleaning. Put everything back the way it was. Get the servants to help you. If you need anything, tell me.”</p><p></p><p>“You two,” he pointed at Jonas and Jebediah. “Continue preparations for the expedition. We’re leaving. Tomorrow.”</p><p></p><p>Jonas had suggested that the ‘plague’ curtains stay up. Kelize overruled him.</p><p></p><p>--------------------------------------------- </p><p></p><p>Jonas decided that the rest of his chores could be conducted outside of the now crowded Valinson home. He explained that he would secure the foodstuffs from the butcher and notify Adair of the cabal’s intentions. Exiting the rear of the house, he passed the Stilwell’s and saw firelight flickered on the walls within. Jonas took the opportunity to have a chat with Canton Myle.</p><p></p><p>Quickly crossing the ground between the two houses, Jonas gave a hearty knock at the door. Expectedly, the hunter answered, graciously inviting the young militiaman in. Jonas was obliged.</p><p></p><p>“Hello.” Canton opened the door. Jonas realized how handsome the young man truly was. “How are you?” </p><p></p><p>Jonas frowned and introduced himself. They shook hands.</p><p></p><p>“Herm, is something wrong?” Myle had noticed the expression. “Ah, yes, I remember you. The minstrel from the pub a few nights back. You’re fairly good. Though that frown won’t do, you should smile more. I’m Canton Myle.”</p><p></p><p>“Eh?” Jonas was not comfortable with the man’s openness and hospitality. It did not help what he was trying to accomplish.</p><p></p><p>“I’m just saying that you have a pretty smile. You have nice dimples.”</p><p></p><p>“Eh?” Jonas was caught off-guard.</p><p></p><p>“Well, I’m being so rude. Here,” he gestured behind him, stepping sideways and back into the room to allow Jonas to enter. “Won’t you come in?”</p><p></p><p>“Um, yes.” Jonas entered and paced about a bit.</p><p></p><p>The two engaged in a brief conversation where Jonas disguised his visit as militia duty; explaining to the newcomer that he would certainly need to speak to the sheriff about squatting in the Stilwell home. He also insinuated that he knew what Myle was ‘up to’. For all Jonas’ pretense and implication, Canton seemed unaffected and only genuinely responsive to the company. The Menovian’s reactions further agitated the young Fawkes.</p><p></p><p>“Well, would you like to sit?” Canton offered.</p><p></p><p>Jonas crossed the room to the table, briefly looking about for any weapons. He noticed a curious looking crossbow that was propped against the wall just behind his left arm. The conversation became more cryptic as Jonas began to make threats and veiled comments to the man, suggesting that ill would befall him if their group were to be followed. The Kendrit suspected that Canton feigned ignorance, nodding his head, smiling in a way that looked like a leer. </p><p></p><p>The two sat down and shared a cup of steeped herbs, Jonas noticing a tall branchlike stand of some sort, erected in the corner of the main room. A long leather thong was draped over one end of the thickest, top-most bar. Canton had obviously noticed him, noticing it.</p><p></p><p>“Ah!” He exclaimed, almost as afterthought, giving Jonas a start.</p><p></p><p>“That reminds me, I have yet to feed my falcon.” Canton stood up and crossed to the stand, his back to Jonas. He removed the leather.</p><p></p><p>“Would you like to see?” Canton asked, and gestured Jonas toward the door.</p><p></p><p>Jonas stood and exited first, suspicious.</p><p></p><p>Canton closed the door behind him as he exited. He pulled the leather thong at length, and loaded a sling-like cup with something that Jonas was unable to identify. The larger man began to slowly, andmethodically spin the cord, gradually expanding the circumference of the circle. Jonas found the low whooshing sound of the leather in the air discomforting. He stepped back as Canton continued to require more area for the procedure. All the while the hunter explained.</p><p></p><p>“Ah! Such magnificent birds. I do love them. Osiris’ purest hunter, if you ask me. Solitary, fast, quick-witted, precise.” Canton admired.</p><p></p><p>Jonas couldn’t help but think that he didn’t ask, but listened anyway. “Where’d you get a hawk?” He figured he’d play along politely. There was no reason to upset the man.</p><p></p><p>Canton winced and looked at the lad, offended. “A <em>falcon</em>,” he enunciated, “is not to be confused with a hawk.”</p><p></p><p>“Ooohh, <em>sorry</em>.” Jonas did little to hide his sarcasm.</p><p></p><p>“You see,” Canton decided to explain. “When hawks hunt they attack their prey on the ground. Falcons, however, will actually attack and kill their prey while still in mid-air.”</p><p></p><p>Jonas yawned.</p><p></p><p>The whooshing was lower, slower. Jonas stepped back three more paces. </p><p></p><p>“Watch now…” Canton had forgotten the offense. “Any minute now…”</p><p></p><p>Sure enough, a small brown bird had appeared high in the sky, circling overhead.</p><p></p><p>Jonas craned his neck, occasionally losing sight of the predator in the sun. As it descended rapidly, disappearing and reappearing in intervals blocked by Matet, the militiaman was almost left with the impression that the bird was approaching at an exponential rate. It loomed above, large now; still high in the air, Jonas half-ducked, reflexively.</p><p></p><p>The whooshing built into a crescendo that broke with a smack like that of a whip. Jonas watched as the leather lariat snaked upward from Canton’s hand, shooting some small hunk of dense material into the air. With a high screech, the falcon dropped like a rock, instantly smacking into the foreign matter, eclipsing it from Jonas’ view. The minstrel began to see the significance in this relationship. The bird continued its descent to light aloft the large hunter’s upraised hand. Even at this distance, Jonas could tell that had Canton not worn a thick leather glove, the birds claws would be digging deep in to his flesh.</p><p></p><p>“Say,” Jonas asked drawing a bit closer, “So you could use that thing to hunt?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” Canton preened proudly.</p><p></p><p>“Or say, track something. From way up there that bird could see everything, huh?”</p><p></p><p>Canton stroked the back of the bird’s neck. It was now finishing choking down something. “Jonas, say hello to my friend Reed.” He gestured Jonas over.</p><p></p><p>“Erm, hello, uh…Reed.” Jonas awkwardly obliged. “You talk to him?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, of course. He’s my friend.” Canton answered, turning back to admire his companion.</p><p></p><p>Jonas was skeptical, “…and, uh…he talks back?”</p><p></p><p>“Well, no, of course not,” Canton looked at the teenager quizzically. “He’s a bird.”</p><p></p><p>“Right,” closed Jonas.” Well, I should be going.”</p><p></p><p>“Alright,” Canton chased as Jonas began to meander off. “Thanks for stopping by. Come again anytime.”</p><p></p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard hunted down Annabelle. After seeking solitude in his study, he found many of his maps improved upon. Crude likenesses of kitties were molded from mountains, snakes were once rivers, and hills became sheep. Valinson was exasperated. </p><p></p><p>“Annabelle!” He called out. His paternal tone rang throughout the house. The soft pitter-pat of small feet ceased suspiciously upstairs.</p><p></p><p>“Annabelle, do you have any idea who may have drawn all over the walls of the house?” Wrenchard tried to coax the truth from his oldest daughter upstairs in the children’s bedroom.</p><p></p><p>“Uh…?” She hesitated, obviously ashamed, tracing with her feet on the floorboards.</p><p></p><p>“It’s okay, I’m not gonna yell. I just wanna know the truth,” Wrenchard encouraged.</p><p></p><p>“It was…” Annabelle paused. “It was Constance!”</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard shook his head. “Noooo…” he drawled.</p><p></p><p>“It was…” Annabelle paused. “It was Dian!”</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard shook his head again. He made droopy eyes like a sad puppy and lowered himself onto one knee, looking up into Annabelle’s face as she fidgeted on the bed. “I’m a very sad daddy. You don’t want daddy to be sad do you?”</p><p></p><p>Annabelle shook her head. “No daddy, don’t be sad. I told Dian not to do it.” She beamed hoping her father was convinced.</p><p></p><p>“Well, Annabelle, if I knew the truth then I wouldn’t be sad…”</p><p></p><p>“Um, it was the kitty! Yeah, the kitty did it!” She averted his gaze, and fumbled about with the bedspread.</p><p></p><p>“Annabelle…” Wrenchard lured, and stuck out his lower lip. “Now you know that’s not true. I just want to make sure that this will never happen again. That was naughty. Do you understand?”</p><p></p><p>“It won’t, daddy. I’ll make sure!” Annabelle stood on the bed, elated that she didn’t have to confess.</p><p></p><p>“Well, alright. Will you help to clean it up then?” Wrenchard asked as Annabelle nodded and bounced towards him. “Good. Well, give daddy a hug.”</p><p></p><p>His daughter flopped into his arms, reaching up to grasp fingers behind his neck. Wrenchard hugged her back, warmly, wondering when his next moment like this might be. </p><p></p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>Once he left the tracker, Jonas sought out Adair in the pastures. Van Feicht momentarily waylaid him. The latter man was rather quickly shooed away, looking nettled, and Jonas proceeded to talk to his peer in hushed tones. After quickly explaining to the Bannon of the resumption of expedition preparations, he diverged from Adair who was off to find Tyrus. In the meanwhile, Jonas would retrieve the smoked meats fro Edwin. </p><p></p><p>Fawkes found the butcher in his smokehouse with his little baby girl, Corley, ‘breathing in the progress.’ With the aid of the Valinson wheelbarrow, he loaded up the rations and paid for the smoker’s efforts with a couple hundred Herman-Land silvers drawn from the Valinson coffers. While there, Jonas had an idea. He suggested to the Kerswills, mainly Bette, that they go and welcome Canton to the hamlet. She seemed receptive, thanking him for the suggestion as he left.</p><p></p><p> Uplifted, Jonas continued about his tasks to the Tatum house. Maybe he could steal a few minutes with Hazel again. He knocked on the door. Again her mother answered barring the entryway with her body, a protective badger guarding the lair. She smiled at him politely. </p><p></p><p>“So Jonas,” There was the curse again. “I wasn’t aware that you and Hazel were friends?” It was a rhetorical question.</p><p></p><p>He answered it anyway. “Yup.”</p><p></p><p>The interrogation continued, “Well how come you’ve never been around before?” </p><p></p><p>He had no time to answer as she continued before he could start. “You do know that Adair and Hazel are close don’t you?”</p><p></p><p>“Yup.”</p><p></p><p>“Does Adair know you’re here?” She prodded.</p><p></p><p>“Uh…”</p><p></p><p>“You and he <em>are</em> friends aren’t you?” Mrs. Tatum was ruthless.</p><p></p><p>Jonas thought that he would rather be dispatching fiends from the Breach right about now.</p><p></p><p>Backpedaling he made a suggestion. “Actually, I was coming to see you.”</p><p></p><p>The statement caught her unawares. “Really?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, I was thinking that since we’re welcoming all these newcomers to town, it would be nice of you to stop by and say ‘hello’. The new man is staying at the old Stilwell house.” He was certain that she would be much more charitable now.</p><p></p><p>She grinned, he saw her guard lower somewhat, just long enough to glimpse Hazel silently waving at him from inside the house.</p><p></p><p>“Oooooh, and we could have a party. At the pub. We could invite those other two staying at Wrenchard’s and everyone could meet, mingle, and talk. What a great idea, Jonas! I’ll bake a pie.”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah.” It took a minute for Jonas to register fully the implications of what Mrs. Tatum had just suggested. She didn’t seem to be paying him any mind. The opening was there, as she turned to head back into the house and presumably towards the kitchen. Hazel smiled at him. He drifted closer.</p><p></p><p>“Uh, er, no, wait!” He called after the elder woman. “That’s no good,” he added, realizing what he’d committed the Groomers to.</p><p></p><p>“Oh?” Mrs. Tatum turned back, eclipsing Hazel from view. “Why not?” She bore down on him swiftly. He took a few involuntary steps backward, recoiling from her tone.</p><p></p><p>“Well, uh….” He was in the doorway again. “The pilgrims are in the house with Wrenchard. Y’know, plague and all. We don’t want to get the whole town sick.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh. You’re right,” conceded Mrs. Tatum. “Well I guess you’d best be running along now. You must be busy with your militia duty and all.”</p><p></p><p>Jonas cringed. “Yeah.” </p><p></p><p>He left, unable to see Hazel. </p><p></p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>While Jonas was conniving behind his back, Adair dutifully humped out to Tyrus’ hut and updated the woodsman on the situation with the Menovians and the resumption of preparations for the expedition. The shepherd took an inventory of the confiscated gear that had been stripped of the dead Irregulars and headed back to the hamlet to complete an errand for the hillman. Besides that, he didn’t want to get caught up in the hills after sun down. Tyrus might be able to handle himself, but he wasn’t so sure.</p><p></p><p>On his way back to the Valinson manor, Adair stopped by Gerald’s to find out the price of the paddles and arrow shafts that Tyrus had commissioned, coming away with a figure of 30 coppers. The shepherd took this figure with him to the manor, entering via the front door. He entered the sitting room where he spoke with Wrenchard who was taking down the last of the heavy black drapery.</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard had an unusual spring in his step; he was full of vim and vigor. “Sometimes you need to be brought to the brink of death to know what you are truly made of. I am eager for this journey.”</p><p></p><p>Adair nodded. “I guess you decided to drop the plague façade.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes.” Wrenchard thought of Kelize’s incessant nagging.</p><p></p><p>“Well, the oars and arrow shafts are ready. Gerald just needs 3 silvers.” Adair notified their benefactor.</p><p></p><p>“Surely, let’s just go to the study.” Wrenchard led the boy down the hall.</p><p></p><p>From the study they heard a knock on the door. Gravis responded.</p><p></p><p>“You have a visitor, sir.” Gravis called from the hall.</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard and Adair moved to the sitting room where Canton Myle had already been seated, making himself comfortable in Wrenchard’s favorite chair. With their appearance, Gravis bowed and took his leave. Canton rose as the master of the house entered the room.</p><p></p><p>With an outstretched hand he took Wrenchard’s, who could tell that the larger foreigner was trying to gauge his strength. He nodded at Adair. </p><p></p><p>“You’re looking well.” He beamed at Valinson, not letting go of the firm grasp. His teeth caught the firelight, gleaming. “You’ve done a good job getting rid of the smell of plague.”</p><p></p><p>Both men stared at him. Canton sat down, not seeming to mind.</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” Wrenchard finally spoke up, not knowing what to make of the situation. He had no weapons near at hand. “The ole zombie rot.”</p><p></p><p>Outside the room, Gravis secretly slipped up the stairs.</p><p></p><p>“Zombie rot? I’ve never heard of that.” Canton eyed him quizzically, surveying his face.</p><p></p><p>Adair sat away from the older men, at the far end of the couch. He watched the interplay.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, I got it during the last undead attack.” Wrenchard added.</p><p></p><p>The manservant slipped into the room where Constance had been staying. Both of the pilgrims were here now, quietly speculating as to the noise that they’d heard downstairs. Gravis confirmed their suspicions.</p><p></p><p>“Well,” Canton gave a hearty laugh. “Good thing for you. I heard that you had the Red Wasting disease; and that’s fatal.”</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard continued to engage the hunter in a contrived story involving the intricacies of attacks staged by the living dead, and the missing Menovian Irregulars. All the while Canton listened in rapt attention.</p><p></p><p>“Don’t try to open this door until I come to get you, not for anyone. Not even me. Arm yourself.” Jebediah crossed the hall after sealing in Constance with a turn of the key.</p><p></p><p>He quickly began to make preparations of his own, beginning by affixing his antiquated breastplate to the studded leather underlay and securing his sword-belt. He sat vigil at the foot of the bed.</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard seemed to realize that he’d been droning on. “Who said I had the Red Wasting disease?”</p><p></p><p>Canton sat up on the couch and leaned forward. The smile vanished, unnerving Adair. The large silky-blonde man looked Wrenchard dead in the eye. “Everyone but you.” He stood up abruptly.</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard recoiled slightly, using the momentum to spring to his feet from the couch. </p><p></p><p> “Heh,” He sounded unaffected. “Rumors…”</p><p></p><p>Canton proceeded towards the door. “Well, I should be going. Just wanted to see how things were faring over here. Now with the curtains down and all.”</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard and Adair exchanged genuine pleasantries and close the door behind him. They watched through the shutters as he took refuge from the drawing night sky in the old Stilwell home.</p><p></p><p>Adair took his winter cloak from the wall lined with hooks. It was starting to get much chillier at night. “Why don’t we bring him along with us? He’s got a falcon and everything.”</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard opened the door and looked down into the young man’s innocent face. “That’s an interesting idea.”</p><p></p><p>Wrenchard closed the door behind the young shepherd, who proceeded to retrieve the paddles and arrow shafts. He took them home with him, arriving just in time for dinner.</p><p></p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>Upstairs Jebediah absorbed every word. He was agog. He waited to hear the front door close down below. As the sounds of movement carried further back into the belly of the house, Jebediah slowly, methodically rose. As quietly as possible he crossed the hallway and unlocked Constance’s door. He entered, pulled the door closed behind him and locked it again. She looked at him quizzically.</p><p></p><p>“Pack your things and be ready, then get to bed as soon as possible. You may need all your rest later tonight. We may be getting out of here.”</p><p></p><p>Dawning comprehension registered on her face. Instantly, she did as instructed.</p><p></p><p>---------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p> <strong>Notes:</strong></p><p></p><p>(1) – The Bannons pay tribute to the Valinsons on the first day of winter and the first day of summer. This includes wool and head of sheep in exchange for the use of the Valinson fields and properties.</p><p></p><p>(2) – He hasn’t before.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Rastfar, post: 1043616, member: 9596"] [b]session #6[/b] [b]session #6[/b] “I, erm, just wanted to tell you how I feel.” Adair felt stupid. He was sure he must’ve looked it too. Only the dark of night could save him from witnessing the embarrassment that was surely exhibited on Hazel’s face. The cooper gave chase, but was too many steps behind. The ornery man grumbled as he raced off after his nemesis. Malchiah seem pleased with quelling the debacle and returned inside. Adair turned to realize he was alone with Hazel. “Really?” She asked, aflutter with romance. “Uh, yeah,” he stumbled. “I have for quite some time.” His shirt was suddenly itchy. He wriggled in place. “Ohh, Adair,” she mused. “I, I….” He hoped. ‘Oh, please,’ he hoped. If Jonas had messed up all these years of wonderful friendship he would kill him. But, what if? What if, somehow the fool had opened a portal through which access would now be granted him: entry to her heart. ‘Oh, please,’ he hoped. “…You’re so…so sweet.” She finished. And there it was. Jonas was a dead man. Adair bowed his head, and drew invisible lines in the dirt with the toe of his boot. “Thanks.” “Well, it’s late. I should get to bed and you should get outta here. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble. C’mere.” She beckoned. He came. She gave him a warm embrace. He closed his eyes; he did dearly enjoy this exchange. She let him go and closed the shutters. Adair heard the latch slip shut softly. He turned for home. --------------------------------------------- Jebediah could hear the clamor outside. He could tell that it was coming from town, though he had no idea where. He could not help but wonder what was happening. He remained vigilant. Even after the ruckus died down and dissipated, he stayed alert. When he could last no longer in the wee hours of the morn, he rose from his post and sought out Gravis. The manservant had agreed to watch for the rest of the evening and took his turn in the comfortable chair. He flopped his feet up onto the Neergaardian. He set comfortably, the loaded crossbow laid across his lap. He was asleep before Jebediah’s door closed upstairs. Jebediah retired to bed. There he wilted onto the covers not bothering to remove his armor. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow. [size=3][b]Anulem, 28th of Syet – 564 H.E. (Welcome Winter; Day One: The Great Fast)[/b][/size] A gurgling, choking cough startled the ‘elder’ Adair awake. Laboriously, Wrenchard stirred. His caregiver was quick to wipe is brow. Aided, Wrenchard was able to sit up a bit, receiving a potable medicine. Swallowing hard, the manor’s lord clutched his chest. “Who…found…me?” ‘First’ Adair did his best to provide a rough update, “Jonas.” Wrenchard recalled the last of the prior day’s action. “Did he come…” he coughed, “…with the militia?” Unable to provide all of the details that Wrenchard was anxious to hear, the healer summoned Jebediah. The pilgrim Wrenchard knew as Jebediah was not the man who arrived. The man that now stood beside him was much taller in his full and natural height, seemingly younger, broader, and more full-figured. He was dressed in his finer armour, studded leather grieves and an ornate breastplate. Whatever he might have thought of the change, Wrenchard listened closely to the newcomer as he was briefed on what had transpired over the last few days. --------------------------------------------- As usual ‘black’ Adair rose with the dawn to take the sheep to pasture. He knew that he would not be doing it for too much longer, so the lack of sleep from the night before did not bother him much. As he brought the flock out of town, he noticed that he was a few head short. (1) Out in the fields he chatted a while with Van Feicht. Despite it being Welcome Winter, all seemed as normal as possible. He couldn’t help but wonder if Jebediah had been wrong. Jonas had awoken earlier than usual, still expecting the worst. With no sign of trouble afoot, he too began to doubt the validity of Jebediah’s paranoid assumptions. The dilettante spent the earlier part of the morning practicing in the barn. He then headed out to the pastures to look for ‘black’ Adair. Jonas found the shepherd boy there along with his good friend Van Feicht, who was eager to chat. Jonas begged off. Explaining that he had more important things to attend to, Jonas turned back towards town with Adair, leaving the older shepherd in the field. “How’d things go with Hazel last night?” Jonas had to ask. “Eh?” Adair was always a bit coy, or flighty, Jonas couldn’t decide. “You know,” he pursued, “I softened her up for you with that song. Did you at least get a kiss or whatever?” “Eh?” Jonas thought maybe Adair was hard of hearing. “She seemed okay. I don’t know…” Adair offered. “Don’t squander this chance I tried to give you. Look, we’re either going to be killed by Menovians or about to go off on a dangerous journey, and I know for my part I plan to try to…[I]you know…[/I]” He insinuated with a raised eyebrow. “…before I go, not that I haven’t before (2)…I mean. I want to do it again. You know, before I go.” Adair just nodded his head knowingly, “Uh-huh. Yeah, I know.” The two teenagers, continued through town. Jonas did most of the talking. As they neared the commons they parted. Adair headed towards the pub; Jonas had spotted something that peaked his interest. Motie, always a suspicious character in Jonas’ mind, was out and about. It appeared as if he was headed out of town. Jonas decided to investigate. Being certain to stay back a bit, Jonas used the houses as cover as he tailed Motie to the edge of the hamlet and out into the surrounding hills north of town. As he pursued, it proved a harder task than he initially had suspected. Motie proved to be somewhat crafty himself. The diminutive Kendrit had heard a suspicious cracking of twigs behind him and began to duck and run for cover. Jonas afraid of being spotted also hid. The two of them engaged in a quiet battle of wits and subterfuge as they attempted to sneak up on, hide from, and follow one another. Ultimately, Jonas lost track of the sneaky little man. All attempts at recovering the trail failed. The fact that he was alone out in the hills did little to assuage his defeat. He quickly hustled back to town. Adair was still curious about the Menovian situation. He first decided to pass by the alderman’s house but couldn’t hear any sign of the captain or sergeant there. Not wanting to push his luck too much, he instead continued on to the pub, where he was sure he would find some action. Entering the long hall, he moved directly to the bar, using the pretense of getting a snack for lunch to observe the four remaining Irregulars. Sure enough they were here, and it appeared as if they were fully suited up and preparing to leave. From their rumblings he was able to derive that they had indeed been given the order to do so. At the bar, Adair sat next to Lee Hoeberg who was busy warming his hands on a cup of steeped herbs. The two chatted idle Kendrit chat for a while. Gus kept himself busy in the back. Minutes later, Adair had what he’d come for and left to mitigate the rest of his concerns about the present Menovian menace. He figured that if he could find Sterling and Malchiah, then he would be well-informed as to how the rest of the day may play out. Passing by the Commons once more, he found that all ten of the Irregulars horses had been saddled, and packed. They stood waiting, tethered in the commons, unguarded. Adair briefly entertained the idea of approaching, mischief on his mind, but quickly thought better of it and moved on. He found them, eventually, leaving the alderman’s home. Nonchalantly, he stayed away, wanting to investigate the home as they left it and headed towards the pub. He entered the house. He had never been inside before so he did not exactly know what to expect. The interior was not unusual: comfortable, neat, clean; all looked to be in order. No nefarious dealings, shady dais with altar for sacrifice or blood-soaked walls; Adair now had to assume that although Sterling and Malchiah were dislikable, they were not the omnipotent evil Setites that Jebediah made them out to be. He involuntarily chuckled to himself. He exited, pulling the door closed behind him. Adair decide to follow them to the pub. Upon re-entering, Lee was still there, he quickly ascertained that the Menovians would indeed be riding out that day. It became clear that their Captain saw no need to linger around a hamlet where the plague was present. --------------------------------------------- “That long,” Wrenchard asked. “How could I have been unconscious for so long?” “You were on the brink of Anubis’ Realm.” Jebediah explained. Nodding toward the herbalist he continued. “You owe this man a great debt. He nary left your side for days.” Wrenchard twisted his head slightly; his neck was sore. He saw that his benefactor was tired, haggard, and nearly emaciated. Yet the grim visage was softened by his smile, a beaming mask of success. He had never known the spirit of this man to be so strong; forcing life to grow from where there was little or no hope. It made Wrenchard realize the strength of his people; of Kendrits; of their sheer hard fought willpower. Wrenchard nodded towards the healer, who was now drifting off to sleep. “I can also tell you that your family is safe and well.” Jebediah assured. “And I want you to promise me that you’ll stay in bed and rest. Though we need you, you can do no good to anyone now, not in this condition.” Wrenchard nodded agreement and smirked, “Where am I going to go?” Jebediah explained a bit more about what he knew to be going on in the town. Wrenchard, strained by the effort of remaining awake, realized the gravity of the situation that he’d narrowly escaped. He admitted, “I did not expect to awake.” Jebediah recognized that he had stayed too long. “Would you like to see your wife?” “Uh,…” Wrenchard paused. He knew he was not yet fit enough to endure the verbal assault he knew he had coming, “…I need my rest.” “Very well,” Jebediah understood full well Wrenchard’s hesitation. “Before I go, one last thing. You have also lost something that I am sure was very precious to you; but like I said your family is safe and I’m sure that you will take solace in that.” “What have I lost?” Wrenchard asked unenthusiastically. Jebediah explained the incident involving the brandy. Wrenchard nodded, “I understand, it’s for the good of the town. Probably wouldn’t have been able to transport it anyway.” He dozed off. Jebediah left the two men to their rest, gently pulling the door closed behind him. --------------------------------------------- Leaving the pub after the soldiers, Adair watched them head toward the Commons. He paralleled their path, heading toward the Valinson manor himself. Before long he heard the tell-tale sign of riders, thunderous hooves pounding the ground in dissonant rhythm. The earth trembled below his feet. He was reminded of the power of the band riding down the hill into Kendrick for the first time. His arm hairs prickled. Not far away, Jonas was near re-entering the hamlet and also heard the exit of the Menovian threat. Inside the Valinson home, Jebediah heard the commotion. He briskly walked to the kitchen and peered out the rear window. To his pleasure, he monitored the exit of the Irregular posse. Adair drew near the Stilwell home, still watching the roiling dust whose locus was somewhere on the other side of the butcher’s house. As he passed by, the shepherd noticed the door was open. Smoke issued forth from the slender chimney, warmth invited from inside. He saw no sign of the huntsman. Slightly curious he approached the doorway. Inside he saw the man’s belongings, including his pack, was left half open. At this proximity he could tell that Canton was nowhere inside. Adair paused, ogling the backpack. It was full. The straps for the bedroll still lay unbuckled. The top flap was only buckled on the one side. He thought to himself how easy it would be just to slip in and grab it, or at least undo the remaining strap and just look inside. After a few long seconds he shook his head and moved on. It took Adair a few minutes to get Jebediah’s attention, drawing the refugee away from his post. After a bit of an exchange at the front door, he managed to get pulled in through the back door. The pretense of the plague was markedly diminished. Once inside Adair told Jebediah of the Menovians egress. Excited, Jebediah conveyed that he knew and asked Adair for more information on the tracker. Adair explained all that he knew, adding the names Pritchard, Horatio and Minerva as an after thought. This did little to appease the larger man’s thirst for knowledge. Jebediah, quickly learning to cope with the shepherd’s questionable memory, merely grunted with disappointment. “When did you last see him?” Jebediah asked, wondering if perhaps the bulky man had left with the Irregular troop. “Yesterday,” Adair replied. The pilgrim’s spirits lifted. Adair thought that he might have even seen an unfamiliar smile beginning to eke its way across Jebediah’s lips. “Well, okay then.” Adair smiled too. “Yeah, his stuff is still there. I could have taken his pack on my way in here, but decided not to.” The inkling of relief vanished. “What?” Jebediah moaned. “Yeah, I have no idea where he is…” Adair continued, still smiling broadly. “Ergh. I hope he’s not hiding somewhere.” Jebediah interjected, contemptuous of the short-sighted boy. “Look,” he added, “if he knows about you coming in and out of here, then it might be dangerous for you. So you have to decide if you want to stay here, and we’ll say that you got too close, or you can go out and take your chances.” “Yeah, I think I’ll take my chances.” Adair was quick with the reply. “Very well then. You should get going before he comes back around.” Jebediah, disappointed, ushered the boy out. Adair left unceremoniously, and circled the house as if returning from the pastures. As he passed the Stilwell’s he couldn’t help but notice the figure dominating the open doorway. Canton flashed his teeth. He called out to the young man. “How do they fare with the [i]plague[/i]?” Adair waved, trying to ignore the sarcastic tone. “Uh, as well as can be expected.” It was a question as much as a statement. Not wishing to linger any longer, he hurried off to tend to the rest of his chores for the afternoon. --------------------------------------------- Not far away, Jonas had wound his way back into town. It was good to know that the Menovians had finally gone. He found himself bopping along with an involuntary spring in his step. Jonas wound up at the most unlikely of places. He rapped at the door of the Tatum house. Realizing that he had never come calling before, he didn’t quite know what to expect. Mrs. Tatum opened the door. Jonas knew that this was not it. Not to be discouraged, he gained his full stature and composed himself. “Hello, Jonas.” She greeted the young man, standing in the doorway. “Hello,” he attempted to sound authoritative, “I just wanted to let you know that the Menovians have left and things should be returning to normal.” He attempted to peer over her shoulder nonchalantly, scanning the sitting room beyond for Hazel. Her eyes never left his. “Thank you for the update, Jonas.” Hazel’s mother emphasized the last word, calling him back to attention. “That’s very good to know. And why are you telling me this?” “I’m in the militia, ma’am.” Jonas proudly declared, “It’s my duty.” “Oh, really?” She looked at him in amazement. “I didn’t know.” “Yup.” Jonas lingered awkwardly in the doorway. “Well, shouldn’t you be going to tell everyone else?” Jonas, always quick with wit replied, “Nope. This is my last stop.” In the room beyond he could see Hazel poking her head around a corner to investigate. “Mother…?” Hazel called out, coming into the room. As if she had forgotten her manners, she stood aside somewhat and gestured to Jonas, “Well, I guess we should invite you in. You must be tired and all.” She gave him the once over. Jonas felt her scouring glare. “Thank you, thank you,” he obliged and brushed past quickly. Hazel eagerly motioned for him to sit down on a comfortable couch. Jonas did so leaving plenty of room next to him. He looked from her to the space and back again. She started across the room. Mrs. Tatum closed the door and crossed the floor. “Hazel, dear, Jonas must be thirsty from all the work. Why don’t you bring us drinks?” Hazel doubled back. Mrs. Tatum took the empty seat next to Jonas on the couch. “So Jonas,” to him it almost sounded as if his name was a curse on her lips, “I heard all that commotion last night.” “Uh…” Hazel was quick to return with the beverages. She offered steeped herbs around. Jonas took his graciously and stood up. “Well, I do still have duty on the Breach. I shouldn’t stay too long. There is of course still the matter of Dralmohir, lest we forget.” He could feel Mrs. Tatum’s glare upon him. “So it might not be safe to, I don’t know,” he met Hazel’s stare, giving her a surreptitious look, “hang around a barn after sundown.” Hazel smiled. Mrs. Tatum stood now too. “Well, thanks for stopping by.” She said as she practically shoved him out the door. Jonas wore a crescent moon smile all the way home as he raced to his barn to wait. --------------------------------------------- Jebediah’s mood grew graver. This turn of events did not bode well. He realized that he now had to confide in Wrenchard: the only other man of ostensible intelligence in this hamlet. He proceeded upstairs to seek an audience with the cartographer. As per Jebediah’s request, ‘elder’ Adair exited the room, trusting the stranger’s best intentions. Behind closed doors the two discussed plans and speculation at length. The healer waited just outside. He could hear not more than low tones from inside. When finally Jebediah emerged, Adair could see that Wrenchard was still awake, a look of consternation upon his face. He only caught the tale end of what Wrenchard had said, aloud as much to himself as anyone else. “This is something that I’ll have to muse.” Jebediah brushed by the man waiting in the hall, and without explanation or recognition continued downstairs. --------------------------------------------- Sometime later, a call came through the cracked barn doors. “Hello…?” It was Hazel. Jonas jumped up with anticipation. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for. Surprisingly, his stomach was all-aflutter. “Hello! Come on in!” He called from the loft eagerly, not wanting her to go away. He quickly tried to brush the hay from his hair. Hazel slipped through the crack in the oversized doors and peered about for her admirer. Jonas crossed the loft to the ladder and waved to catch her attention. Noticing that she saw him, he decided to attempt an impressive move. Continuing to hold her attention with his gaze, he slid down the ladder. In an effort to do so quickly, he rapped his knuckles on every rung going down. Jonas bit his lip to stymie the pain. “Hey,” She said as she drew near. Jonas tucked his hands behind his back. He dared not venture a look, sure that his fingers were broken. “You’re a pretty good musician,” admired Hazel. “Thanks.” The pain began to fade. “I have a song I’d like to play for you.” “Really? You wrote a song for me?” “Um,” Jonas hesitated. It was evident that Hazel had expected him to have one prepared already. Jonas again became suddenly aware of the pain in his fingers. “Here, let me play it,” he floundered. Given the familiarity of his lute, and his creative nature, Jonas did a fair job of creating an impromptu tune dedicated to the young woman. Sitting atop a hay bail, she looked on longingly. Jonas was encouraged. He finished the tune and scooted closer to her on the seat. “You’re really good,” she offered. She tilted her head a bit to the side. Jonas leaned in a bit closer, expectantly. His heart raced. “And you don’t smell like sheep sh*t like everyone says,” Hazel continued. “Huh?” Jonas’ heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. He reeled back with the involuntary reflex of the smack. “Patty Boy. That’s what we, uh… [I]they[/I] all call you,” she added. Deflated, Jonas didn’t know if he could salvage the situation. “Really? Uh, thanks, I guess.” As Hazel stood to leave, Jonas did little to prevent her from going. He was disenchanted. “Well, I don’t wanna stay too long. Mother will be wondering after me. Thanks, you’re really sweet.” In a glimmer of hope she leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. As she ran off, Jonas thought to himself. ‘Well, it was a start.’ --------------------------------------------- That night Kendrick was calm. More lights filled the valley almost as if an ominous shadow had finally passed. The Kendrits, though always aware of the creeping presence of Dralmohir, slept well. A soft snow drifted from the sky, raw fleece that padded softly to the ground. [size=3][b]Ralem, 1st of Oche – 564 H.E.[/b][/size] Most of the snow had melted before dawn, what little remained served only as a reminder of the weather to come. ‘Black’ Adair awoke with the sun. If not for his routine, he would have considered attending services at the Glory. For some reason he had never gone, and was now curious as to what exactly happened there. What was so appealing to the pious of Ra? Instead he took out his wards for their final days in the meadows. He knew that the snow would come hard and fast soon. Winter cracked like a whip across the small valley. Soon the sheep would be cooped up in the barn for most of the season. He decided to remain the day, mulling over his own thoughts. --------------------------------------------- When Jonas awoke, later than usual, which was usual, he headed right to the Valinson manor. Entering via the servants’ door, he found the house in disarray. Kelize apparently just had discovered the same thing. She appeared to be adding to the confusion. Obviously news of the Menovians passage had spread throughout the house, allowing its denizens to once again roam free. Jonas entered the kitchen where Jebediah and Kelize were already arguing about the need for maintained secrecy. Constance chased by in a blur, pursuing Annabelle who relished the chaos, taking the opportunity to decorate the walls with a coal pencil. Kelize turned on the young militiaman as he came in. As it this was the event that finally resulted in her loss of patience. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but only huffed and stormed out. Jonas felt the tension follow her from the room. Upstairs, Wrenchard awoke from all the commotion. Feeling a bit better, he dressed. He then proceeded to the end of the hall towards the stairs, anxious to hear what all the hullabaloo was about. Jonas noted the open cellar door. With one quick look at Jebediah, he could tell that the man was in no mood to talk. Rather than engage the surly pilgrim, he decided to just poke his head downstairs. An odd grunting noise seemed to be coming from below. Jonas descended halfway down the rickety old wooden stairs. Below him he saw a makeshift living quarters. Lanterns suspended from floor joyces, cast a dim light throughout the entirety of the cellar. A few cots lay cast about, as well as some strewn children’s clothes. A well-worn rocking chair rested near a low-burning brazier in one of the corners. A comfortable looking, shabby, blanket lay crumpled on the seat. He caught the distinct odor of feces in the air. The grunt came again, from directly below him. He continued to the bottom. Here he found an old man, squatting over a bedpan that had been positioned away from everything else, beneath the steps. With sweat on his brow, the man looked up at Jonas and winked. Jonas cringed, “Uh, er,…” The old man nly looked back at him and replied with another grunt. “Yeah,” Jonas said, “I’ll be going now.” And he bounded up the steps two at a time. Suddenly, Jonas cared little for what sort of mood Jebediah was in. “Do you know that there’s an old man down there? He’s taking a crap…” Jebediah turned to him, “Uh, yeah. Listen, that’s not important right now. What is important is what’s going on outside.” Wrenchard descended the staircase. He was shocked to find his living room in shambles. It looked nothing like what he’d expected. Dread curtains darkened the whole house. The furniture was a mess. The man of the house eyed the wine rack, or rather the outline of where it had been. He noticed piles of wood and a bucket brimming with some mysterious liquid. The acidic smell left him suspicious. Drawn to the noise in the kitchen, he continued down the hall, ignoring the barracks state of his dining room. “Who is that guy?” Wrenchard heard Jonas ask as he entered the conversation. “That’s Wrenchard’s father.” Jebediah answered. “Wrenchard, hello. Good to see you up and about.” He addressed his host. “Wrenchard keeps his father in the basement?” Jonas continued the questioning, while looking around for something to nibble on. Seeing Wrenchard he turned to him, “You keep your father in the basement?” “What happened to my wine collection?” Wrenchard asked Jonas. “Well, what’s his name?” Jonas continued the line of questioning. “What happened to my wine collection,” Wrenchard turned and asked Jebediah. “I told you, some sacrifices were made for the good of the plans,” Jebediah offered as explanation. This did not seem to satisfy Wrenchard as an excuse. Nor did it please Kelize to hear as she re-entered the kitchen, also drawn by the rising noise level. “Will you just look at the state of my house, Wrenchard?” “What matters now is that the Menovians have left town, yes, but that tracker is still skulking about.” Jebediah thought to make his point. Jonas waved off the past, “Listen, never mind, it’s getting late in the season…” “What? Sacrifices? What are you talking about? What’d you do get ‘em drunk the whole time?!” Wrenchard’s familial inheritance was vanished. Twenty years of collecting was gone. “Wrenchard?” Kelize tugged at her husband. “…and I think that we ought to get going soon. Winter will be coming up soon, very soon.” “What? Going where? Wrenchard?” Kelize badgered her husband. “Did you know that a 13 year-old girl was raped and murdered?” Jebediah drove a stake into Wrenchard with his words. “Some people had more important things to worry about than alcohol.” “I’m not talking about alcohol, I’m talking about…” Wrenchard became livid at such disrespect. “I’m talking about getting our things prepared for our trip,” Jonas added, picking up on Wrenchard’s cue. He raised his voice audibly so as to not be ignored any longer. “Wrenchard!” Kelize demanded her husband’s attention. Wrenchard lashed back at Jebediah. “Winter is coming. My family will need…” “EXACTLY! Winter [i]is[/i] coming, and [i]we[/i] need to get out of here,” Jonas added, stepping in front of Kelize, trying to drown her out. Jebediah seemed to hear Jonas for the first time, “We’re still being watched by the hunter.” Wrenchard, not quite finished, hesitated, “… and I…” Jonas tried to appease his host, “Oh, just ignore him. That’s what I do.” He half jested, gesturing to Jebediah. Kelize refused to be bullied aside, especially in her own house. “Wrenchard! This house is a mess! What do you plan to do about it!?” Her voice grated in his ears, clawed at the inside of his skull. Jebediah was losing composure. He turned on Jonas, “What do you mean, [i]ignore me[/i]!? I do not appreciate you being snide.” Jonas changed tact, addressing both men now that he had their attention. “All I am saying is that instead of arguing about what you have already done, and instead worry about what we still have to do…” “[i]Wrenchard![/i]” Kelize was infuriated. Jonas lost his patience with Kelize, “Ma’am, [i]please[/i]!?” He begged. If there was one thing that Kelize could not stand it was being sassed, “Don’t you [i]‘Ma’am’[/i] me!” [b][i]”EVERYBODY QUIET!”[/i][/b] The house went still as Wrenchard licked the foam from his lips. He was shaking with fury. He pulsed up and down with hard, labored breathing. The blood had run to his cheeks and his eyes were bloodshot. Wrenchard flicked the foam from his mouth and pointed to his wife. Some fell on her shirt. She paid it no mind. “You!” He commanded. “Begin cleaning. Put everything back the way it was. Get the servants to help you. If you need anything, tell me.” “You two,” he pointed at Jonas and Jebediah. “Continue preparations for the expedition. We’re leaving. Tomorrow.” Jonas had suggested that the ‘plague’ curtains stay up. Kelize overruled him. --------------------------------------------- Jonas decided that the rest of his chores could be conducted outside of the now crowded Valinson home. He explained that he would secure the foodstuffs from the butcher and notify Adair of the cabal’s intentions. Exiting the rear of the house, he passed the Stilwell’s and saw firelight flickered on the walls within. Jonas took the opportunity to have a chat with Canton Myle. Quickly crossing the ground between the two houses, Jonas gave a hearty knock at the door. Expectedly, the hunter answered, graciously inviting the young militiaman in. Jonas was obliged. “Hello.” Canton opened the door. Jonas realized how handsome the young man truly was. “How are you?” Jonas frowned and introduced himself. They shook hands. “Herm, is something wrong?” Myle had noticed the expression. “Ah, yes, I remember you. The minstrel from the pub a few nights back. You’re fairly good. Though that frown won’t do, you should smile more. I’m Canton Myle.” “Eh?” Jonas was not comfortable with the man’s openness and hospitality. It did not help what he was trying to accomplish. “I’m just saying that you have a pretty smile. You have nice dimples.” “Eh?” Jonas was caught off-guard. “Well, I’m being so rude. Here,” he gestured behind him, stepping sideways and back into the room to allow Jonas to enter. “Won’t you come in?” “Um, yes.” Jonas entered and paced about a bit. The two engaged in a brief conversation where Jonas disguised his visit as militia duty; explaining to the newcomer that he would certainly need to speak to the sheriff about squatting in the Stilwell home. He also insinuated that he knew what Myle was ‘up to’. For all Jonas’ pretense and implication, Canton seemed unaffected and only genuinely responsive to the company. The Menovian’s reactions further agitated the young Fawkes. “Well, would you like to sit?” Canton offered. Jonas crossed the room to the table, briefly looking about for any weapons. He noticed a curious looking crossbow that was propped against the wall just behind his left arm. The conversation became more cryptic as Jonas began to make threats and veiled comments to the man, suggesting that ill would befall him if their group were to be followed. The Kendrit suspected that Canton feigned ignorance, nodding his head, smiling in a way that looked like a leer. The two sat down and shared a cup of steeped herbs, Jonas noticing a tall branchlike stand of some sort, erected in the corner of the main room. A long leather thong was draped over one end of the thickest, top-most bar. Canton had obviously noticed him, noticing it. “Ah!” He exclaimed, almost as afterthought, giving Jonas a start. “That reminds me, I have yet to feed my falcon.” Canton stood up and crossed to the stand, his back to Jonas. He removed the leather. “Would you like to see?” Canton asked, and gestured Jonas toward the door. Jonas stood and exited first, suspicious. Canton closed the door behind him as he exited. He pulled the leather thong at length, and loaded a sling-like cup with something that Jonas was unable to identify. The larger man began to slowly, andmethodically spin the cord, gradually expanding the circumference of the circle. Jonas found the low whooshing sound of the leather in the air discomforting. He stepped back as Canton continued to require more area for the procedure. All the while the hunter explained. “Ah! Such magnificent birds. I do love them. Osiris’ purest hunter, if you ask me. Solitary, fast, quick-witted, precise.” Canton admired. Jonas couldn’t help but think that he didn’t ask, but listened anyway. “Where’d you get a hawk?” He figured he’d play along politely. There was no reason to upset the man. Canton winced and looked at the lad, offended. “A [i]falcon[/i],” he enunciated, “is not to be confused with a hawk.” “Ooohh, [i]sorry[/i].” Jonas did little to hide his sarcasm. “You see,” Canton decided to explain. “When hawks hunt they attack their prey on the ground. Falcons, however, will actually attack and kill their prey while still in mid-air.” Jonas yawned. The whooshing was lower, slower. Jonas stepped back three more paces. “Watch now…” Canton had forgotten the offense. “Any minute now…” Sure enough, a small brown bird had appeared high in the sky, circling overhead. Jonas craned his neck, occasionally losing sight of the predator in the sun. As it descended rapidly, disappearing and reappearing in intervals blocked by Matet, the militiaman was almost left with the impression that the bird was approaching at an exponential rate. It loomed above, large now; still high in the air, Jonas half-ducked, reflexively. The whooshing built into a crescendo that broke with a smack like that of a whip. Jonas watched as the leather lariat snaked upward from Canton’s hand, shooting some small hunk of dense material into the air. With a high screech, the falcon dropped like a rock, instantly smacking into the foreign matter, eclipsing it from Jonas’ view. The minstrel began to see the significance in this relationship. The bird continued its descent to light aloft the large hunter’s upraised hand. Even at this distance, Jonas could tell that had Canton not worn a thick leather glove, the birds claws would be digging deep in to his flesh. “Say,” Jonas asked drawing a bit closer, “So you could use that thing to hunt?” “Yes,” Canton preened proudly. “Or say, track something. From way up there that bird could see everything, huh?” Canton stroked the back of the bird’s neck. It was now finishing choking down something. “Jonas, say hello to my friend Reed.” He gestured Jonas over. “Erm, hello, uh…Reed.” Jonas awkwardly obliged. “You talk to him?” “Yes, of course. He’s my friend.” Canton answered, turning back to admire his companion. Jonas was skeptical, “…and, uh…he talks back?” “Well, no, of course not,” Canton looked at the teenager quizzically. “He’s a bird.” “Right,” closed Jonas.” Well, I should be going.” “Alright,” Canton chased as Jonas began to meander off. “Thanks for stopping by. Come again anytime.” --------------------------------------------- Wrenchard hunted down Annabelle. After seeking solitude in his study, he found many of his maps improved upon. Crude likenesses of kitties were molded from mountains, snakes were once rivers, and hills became sheep. Valinson was exasperated. “Annabelle!” He called out. His paternal tone rang throughout the house. The soft pitter-pat of small feet ceased suspiciously upstairs. “Annabelle, do you have any idea who may have drawn all over the walls of the house?” Wrenchard tried to coax the truth from his oldest daughter upstairs in the children’s bedroom. “Uh…?” She hesitated, obviously ashamed, tracing with her feet on the floorboards. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna yell. I just wanna know the truth,” Wrenchard encouraged. “It was…” Annabelle paused. “It was Constance!” Wrenchard shook his head. “Noooo…” he drawled. “It was…” Annabelle paused. “It was Dian!” Wrenchard shook his head again. He made droopy eyes like a sad puppy and lowered himself onto one knee, looking up into Annabelle’s face as she fidgeted on the bed. “I’m a very sad daddy. You don’t want daddy to be sad do you?” Annabelle shook her head. “No daddy, don’t be sad. I told Dian not to do it.” She beamed hoping her father was convinced. “Well, Annabelle, if I knew the truth then I wouldn’t be sad…” “Um, it was the kitty! Yeah, the kitty did it!” She averted his gaze, and fumbled about with the bedspread. “Annabelle…” Wrenchard lured, and stuck out his lower lip. “Now you know that’s not true. I just want to make sure that this will never happen again. That was naughty. Do you understand?” “It won’t, daddy. I’ll make sure!” Annabelle stood on the bed, elated that she didn’t have to confess. “Well, alright. Will you help to clean it up then?” Wrenchard asked as Annabelle nodded and bounced towards him. “Good. Well, give daddy a hug.” His daughter flopped into his arms, reaching up to grasp fingers behind his neck. Wrenchard hugged her back, warmly, wondering when his next moment like this might be. --------------------------------------------- Once he left the tracker, Jonas sought out Adair in the pastures. Van Feicht momentarily waylaid him. The latter man was rather quickly shooed away, looking nettled, and Jonas proceeded to talk to his peer in hushed tones. After quickly explaining to the Bannon of the resumption of expedition preparations, he diverged from Adair who was off to find Tyrus. In the meanwhile, Jonas would retrieve the smoked meats fro Edwin. Fawkes found the butcher in his smokehouse with his little baby girl, Corley, ‘breathing in the progress.’ With the aid of the Valinson wheelbarrow, he loaded up the rations and paid for the smoker’s efforts with a couple hundred Herman-Land silvers drawn from the Valinson coffers. While there, Jonas had an idea. He suggested to the Kerswills, mainly Bette, that they go and welcome Canton to the hamlet. She seemed receptive, thanking him for the suggestion as he left. Uplifted, Jonas continued about his tasks to the Tatum house. Maybe he could steal a few minutes with Hazel again. He knocked on the door. Again her mother answered barring the entryway with her body, a protective badger guarding the lair. She smiled at him politely. “So Jonas,” There was the curse again. “I wasn’t aware that you and Hazel were friends?” It was a rhetorical question. He answered it anyway. “Yup.” The interrogation continued, “Well how come you’ve never been around before?” He had no time to answer as she continued before he could start. “You do know that Adair and Hazel are close don’t you?” “Yup.” “Does Adair know you’re here?” She prodded. “Uh…” “You and he [i]are[/i] friends aren’t you?” Mrs. Tatum was ruthless. Jonas thought that he would rather be dispatching fiends from the Breach right about now. Backpedaling he made a suggestion. “Actually, I was coming to see you.” The statement caught her unawares. “Really?” “Yes, I was thinking that since we’re welcoming all these newcomers to town, it would be nice of you to stop by and say ‘hello’. The new man is staying at the old Stilwell house.” He was certain that she would be much more charitable now. She grinned, he saw her guard lower somewhat, just long enough to glimpse Hazel silently waving at him from inside the house. “Oooooh, and we could have a party. At the pub. We could invite those other two staying at Wrenchard’s and everyone could meet, mingle, and talk. What a great idea, Jonas! I’ll bake a pie.” “Yeah.” It took a minute for Jonas to register fully the implications of what Mrs. Tatum had just suggested. She didn’t seem to be paying him any mind. The opening was there, as she turned to head back into the house and presumably towards the kitchen. Hazel smiled at him. He drifted closer. “Uh, er, no, wait!” He called after the elder woman. “That’s no good,” he added, realizing what he’d committed the Groomers to. “Oh?” Mrs. Tatum turned back, eclipsing Hazel from view. “Why not?” She bore down on him swiftly. He took a few involuntary steps backward, recoiling from her tone. “Well, uh….” He was in the doorway again. “The pilgrims are in the house with Wrenchard. Y’know, plague and all. We don’t want to get the whole town sick.” “Oh. You’re right,” conceded Mrs. Tatum. “Well I guess you’d best be running along now. You must be busy with your militia duty and all.” Jonas cringed. “Yeah.” He left, unable to see Hazel. --------------------------------------------- While Jonas was conniving behind his back, Adair dutifully humped out to Tyrus’ hut and updated the woodsman on the situation with the Menovians and the resumption of preparations for the expedition. The shepherd took an inventory of the confiscated gear that had been stripped of the dead Irregulars and headed back to the hamlet to complete an errand for the hillman. Besides that, he didn’t want to get caught up in the hills after sun down. Tyrus might be able to handle himself, but he wasn’t so sure. On his way back to the Valinson manor, Adair stopped by Gerald’s to find out the price of the paddles and arrow shafts that Tyrus had commissioned, coming away with a figure of 30 coppers. The shepherd took this figure with him to the manor, entering via the front door. He entered the sitting room where he spoke with Wrenchard who was taking down the last of the heavy black drapery. Wrenchard had an unusual spring in his step; he was full of vim and vigor. “Sometimes you need to be brought to the brink of death to know what you are truly made of. I am eager for this journey.” Adair nodded. “I guess you decided to drop the plague façade.” “Yes.” Wrenchard thought of Kelize’s incessant nagging. “Well, the oars and arrow shafts are ready. Gerald just needs 3 silvers.” Adair notified their benefactor. “Surely, let’s just go to the study.” Wrenchard led the boy down the hall. From the study they heard a knock on the door. Gravis responded. “You have a visitor, sir.” Gravis called from the hall. Wrenchard and Adair moved to the sitting room where Canton Myle had already been seated, making himself comfortable in Wrenchard’s favorite chair. With their appearance, Gravis bowed and took his leave. Canton rose as the master of the house entered the room. With an outstretched hand he took Wrenchard’s, who could tell that the larger foreigner was trying to gauge his strength. He nodded at Adair. “You’re looking well.” He beamed at Valinson, not letting go of the firm grasp. His teeth caught the firelight, gleaming. “You’ve done a good job getting rid of the smell of plague.” Both men stared at him. Canton sat down, not seeming to mind. “Yes,” Wrenchard finally spoke up, not knowing what to make of the situation. He had no weapons near at hand. “The ole zombie rot.” Outside the room, Gravis secretly slipped up the stairs. “Zombie rot? I’ve never heard of that.” Canton eyed him quizzically, surveying his face. Adair sat away from the older men, at the far end of the couch. He watched the interplay. “Yes, I got it during the last undead attack.” Wrenchard added. The manservant slipped into the room where Constance had been staying. Both of the pilgrims were here now, quietly speculating as to the noise that they’d heard downstairs. Gravis confirmed their suspicions. “Well,” Canton gave a hearty laugh. “Good thing for you. I heard that you had the Red Wasting disease; and that’s fatal.” Wrenchard continued to engage the hunter in a contrived story involving the intricacies of attacks staged by the living dead, and the missing Menovian Irregulars. All the while Canton listened in rapt attention. “Don’t try to open this door until I come to get you, not for anyone. Not even me. Arm yourself.” Jebediah crossed the hall after sealing in Constance with a turn of the key. He quickly began to make preparations of his own, beginning by affixing his antiquated breastplate to the studded leather underlay and securing his sword-belt. He sat vigil at the foot of the bed. Wrenchard seemed to realize that he’d been droning on. “Who said I had the Red Wasting disease?” Canton sat up on the couch and leaned forward. The smile vanished, unnerving Adair. The large silky-blonde man looked Wrenchard dead in the eye. “Everyone but you.” He stood up abruptly. Wrenchard recoiled slightly, using the momentum to spring to his feet from the couch. “Heh,” He sounded unaffected. “Rumors…” Canton proceeded towards the door. “Well, I should be going. Just wanted to see how things were faring over here. Now with the curtains down and all.” Wrenchard and Adair exchanged genuine pleasantries and close the door behind him. They watched through the shutters as he took refuge from the drawing night sky in the old Stilwell home. Adair took his winter cloak from the wall lined with hooks. It was starting to get much chillier at night. “Why don’t we bring him along with us? He’s got a falcon and everything.” Wrenchard opened the door and looked down into the young man’s innocent face. “That’s an interesting idea.” Wrenchard closed the door behind the young shepherd, who proceeded to retrieve the paddles and arrow shafts. He took them home with him, arriving just in time for dinner. --------------------------------------------- Upstairs Jebediah absorbed every word. He was agog. He waited to hear the front door close down below. As the sounds of movement carried further back into the belly of the house, Jebediah slowly, methodically rose. As quietly as possible he crossed the hallway and unlocked Constance’s door. He entered, pulled the door closed behind him and locked it again. She looked at him quizzically. “Pack your things and be ready, then get to bed as soon as possible. You may need all your rest later tonight. We may be getting out of here.” Dawning comprehension registered on her face. Instantly, she did as instructed. --------------------------------------------- [b]Notes:[/b] (1) – The Bannons pay tribute to the Valinsons on the first day of winter and the first day of summer. This includes wool and head of sheep in exchange for the use of the Valinson fields and properties. (2) – He hasn’t before. [/QUOTE]
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"The Promised Land" - An Aquerra Campaign (Last Updated 1/23/04)
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