Theandric: Journeyman

Gorgamesh

The beast ment something Gorgamesh thinks to himself.
He turns to the other magus around him and tries to avoid any eye contact with the lady.
I guess each line represent a day, seven days till the beast will come again to avenge. he says in quite but firm voice.
Then he turns to organize his stuff before he attends the meeting Titus talked about.
 

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MummyKitty said:
When he reached the fallen lady, Titus took off his warm, fur-lined cloak and laid it gently over her. "Milady, I hope your wounds are not too grevious. I trust we have some bandages and salves to ease your pain. For now your ordeal is over, but I'm afraid ours is only beginning."
The woman is obviously in shock. She keeps looking at where the stag disappeared into the forest. "It... came out of nowhere. I was following you, going to your covenent when..." She looks at you with big, frightened eyes. "You have to protect me! You have to... take care of this!"

OOC: Titus has little or no experience in the matters of human health, but can he tell how serious her wounds are? Do we have anyone among the convent folk who has surgical or healing skills?
Mechanically, she is suffering from a Medium and a Light wound. As for having someone with Chirurgy (which is what you need) - I don't know, do you? I am trying to challenge you, YOU are running the turb.
Also, see the OOC thread.
 

Enter Old Magd

Old Magd approaches Titus and the prone redcap, having taking great pains to climb down from the back of the cart upon which she rode. She can be heard mumbling to herself as she approaches... "Oh, my aching back... damn these knees of mine.... likely to rain this week, if you ask me..."

Old Magd is suitably named, for she is old even by the standards of the elderly. Some feared it was foolish to allow her to leave Fengheld and make this journey, but few would dare voice such opinions in her presense. She was insistent upon coming. The northern climate would do her good, so she said; though few could see how the climate here was all that different from the climate near Fengheld. No one voiced a strong opposition, as more than one magus could recall having received a soul-wrenching scolding from crossing her in the past, and had little desire to earn another... for Old Magd had no fear of man nor magus.

Titus might hear the creaking and popping of her bones as the old woman nears.

"Lie still, girl, and let Old Magd have a looks at you," she says, grasping her walking staff with both hands as she struggles to lower herself to her knees. "My, my, what a pretty lass you are. You must have all the young men chasing you." The withered crone chuckles to herself as she begins to puruse the woman's wounds.

"You there!" she snaps, eyeing Titus. "Master magus... I need owl's egg and fox's urine to treat these wounds." She begins to look back upon the woman, then quickly looks up to Titus again. "If owl's egg cannot be found, then any fowl will do, but the urine must be that of the fox, and fresh." With a wrinkled hand, she becons toward the cart in which she rode. "In my chester I have twigs of hawthorne and alder. These, too, will I need. Seep them in boiling water, and fetch clean cloth that we may bandage these wounds."
 
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Titus Creperius

Titus listens to old Magd's diagnosis and can't help chuckling to himself. "Ah good old Magd. Of course, I'll rush off and find your egg and piss right away," he says, making only a half-hearted attempt to hide his sarcastic tone.

Titus wasn't irritated with Magd, he was more upset with the planning for this expedition. If she was the only healer they had, the convent could be in trouble if there were further attacks. Not that he doubted the old folk remedies could be effective, but how in the name of Hermes would anyone collect fox's urine? Just ask the creature to piss in a flagon? And what bird laid eggs in the winter?

He had better things to do. Perhaps he'd find a grog to try to gather an egg and trap a fox, but he couldn't spare a person now and he certainly didn't want anyone going into the woods this night. There were things to unpack and the site still needed to be properly scouted. Most of all he needed his books. They would have the answer to what the stag's message meant.

He stood and looked around. Grogs moved about unloading and setting up the camp. That was good.

"You there!" he called to a passing grog carrying some farming implements. "What's your name?"

"I'm Mattihus, master magus," he replied meekly. "The gardener."

"Well, you won't have much gardening to do in the snow. Find a couple of lads and move this woman into one of the less ruined of the shacks there."

"Oh, yes sir," he replied as he hurried off.

Titus shivered in the cold. "If you'll excuse me, I must assist with the unloading and organizing. Magd, please keep watch on our guest, the men will be here soon to move her to a drier and warmer place." He left to find his chest of clothes. His other cloak was in there, and he needed it to keep out the rapidly chilling twilight air.
 

The young redcap cooperates and is swiftly led to a makeshift shelter, barely walking and leaning against a well-muscled grog - but not so out of it, apparently, as she clutches on to her satchel and redcap.
In the meantime the covenfolk scurry about, following Titus's orders. The last rays of sunlight are quickly fading away, leaving you in the cold dark winter night.
 

Making Camp

Old Magd slowly trails behind the young men as they assist the redcap to the shack deemed most suitable to shelter her. Other servants assemble wood for a fire and a comfortable flame is soon buning, keeping the chilling air at bay. As instructed by the wise woman, small twigs of hawthorne and alder are obtained from her personal baggage. These are placed in a small pot of water which is brought to a boil.

Over the next few hours, Old Magd compassionately tends the wounded woman, first cleaning the blood and dirt from the gashes that mar her body, then wrapping them in strips of linen cloth which were first boiled in water.

Meanwhile, the rest of the camp is a flurry of activity, as grog and servant alike make haste to obey the commands of the magi and and tend to the comfort of their masters. The young warrior Heinrich scouts the area immediately surrounding the party, praying their will be no more surprises like that devil deer. Satisfied that nothing lurks in the thickening darkness, and having won first watch with a quick throw of the dice, Heinrich finds a comfortable spot some distance from the rest, in the direction from which the covenant site would most likely be approached, and settles in for the long hours of watch ahead.
 

New Arrivals

Some time later, after the activity in camp has settled down and many of the servants have already began to retire for the night, Heinrich comes hurriedly back, holding his sheathed sword close to his body and running in the manner of an armored man trying to maintain some sense of silence. Seeking the masters, he first sees Gorgamesh and involuntarily flinches... hesitant to speak with that one. Then he sees Titus, and with a quick sigh of relief, he rushes over.

"Master Titus, strangers approach," he states in hushed tones, gesturing in the direction from which he came.

No sooner has he spoken these words than a dark shadow is seen entering the periphery of the campfire's light. A large, massive shadow of... a man? Yes, as the shadow nears - growing larger - it definitely begins to take on the outward shape of a man. But this is no ordinary man. As the figure approaches, it becomes evident that this is a man of massive proportions, standing heads above most men, and with breadth to match.

As the stranger enters the full illumination of the campfire, you can see he is cloaked. Even in the darkness it is easy to see that the material is of high quality. Beneath the cloak one glimpses a hint of chain armor. Beneath his hood, firelight reflects from another metallic surface. It can't possibly be a helm... who would wear a hood over a helm? The long shaft of a greatsword rises over his right shoulder.

The figure stops a respectful distance from the magi. He holds his hands outward, palms up, and slighty bows in a display of deference.

In very good Latin, he speaks. "I am Volkmar, custos of Durenmar." Recovering from his bowed state, he gestures slighty behind him. "I am charged to deliver unto Teneo the maga Valeria Libidia of House Verditius."

From behind the giant of a man another figure - more lithe and graceful - emerges from the darkness. The glow of firelight easily illuminates her beautiful face, which is starkly offset agaist her dark, flowing hair. She, too, is wearing a cloak of exquisite quality, though she has lifted back her hood. One must assume that beneath that cloak she wears robes of equal, if not greater, quality.

She approaches next to Volkmar, who towers over her, and lightly touches his arm as she passes in front of him. In deference, he bows slightly and steps back and away.

Valeria looks over the magi before her; a curious grin upon her face. She gives Titus but a cursory glance... her eyes look upon Gorgamesh with a flicker of recognition, but quickly move on... upon Gasparius, her eyes lock. Her smile changes to one of delightful amusement.

She doesn't take her eyes off of Gasparius as she speaks. "Sodales," she says in a charming, though whimsical, voice, "I bid you good tidings." She holds up her hand, in which is grasped a piece of rolled parchment. A seal bearing the mark of Durenmar is clearly visible.

She looks Gasparius up and down before she continues... almost absent-mindedly. "It is the wish of the council of Durenmar that I join you in the establishment of the covenant of Teneo. Furthermore," she says, "it is the will of the council that Volkmar remain at Teneo as advisor and servant." She finally lifts her eyes from Gasparius, though by this time her desires are clear.

**********​

Gorgamesh, of course, recognizes Valeria. Like he, she just recently completed her Gauntlet. Though he has had little interaction with her, Valeria's reputation around Durenmar is well known. "The Whore of Durenmar" they call her. Judging by the way she is eyeing Gasparius, her reputation is well deserved. Still, he has heard that she is quite accomplished in the area of Hermetic theory, and her interests in Corpus and Mentem supposedly mimic his own.

Volkmar, too, he recognizes... and now knows that the metal glimpsed beneath the hood is indeed not a helm, but, in fact, a silver mask, beneath which is hidden flesh rumored to be burned beyond mortal endurance. Yes, he recalls that Vokmar was quite the subject off interest a few years back. Though always an excellent and faithful servant - a rising star, in fact... destined, perhaps, to one day command the turb of Durenmar - he suffered severe burns upon his entire body, reputedly at the whim of some infernal entity or another. This, of itself, was of little concern. It was remarkable that he had survived the attack, but more remarkable yet was that it was determined that the burns could not be healed with the current knowledge of Hermetic magic. This raised quite a stir amongst the Bonisagus magi, who held numerous debates regarding the fundamentals of essential nature. Still, like Gorgamesh, he bears a flesh burden which few - mundane and magus alike - can understand. Curious, however, that he goes to such lengths to hide his deformities.

Even more curious is that no one at Durenmar mentioned to Gorgamesh that another magus was being sent to Teneo.
 
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Titus is as surprised as anyone to see Volkmar and Valeria arrive, though his initial apprehension is replaced with a wry smile once he realizes who has come.

"Ah, lady Valeria, welcome to Teneo," he says with a courteous bow. "I am Titus Creperius of House Jerbiton, from the convent of Fengheld." He pauses a second to give emphasis to his convent of origin.

"Your arrival is indeed timely. We have recently met one of the denizens of the forest, a gigantic stag, by the look of it a faerie creature. It's handiwork can be seen in yonder shelter-- it severely gored a redcap. I believe she will make a recovery, in fact, I daresay it will be a certainty if your reputation as a master of Corpus is as they say."

Titus pauses, realizing he is being a bit long-winded. "But, you are just arriving and must be weary from your travels. After you have had a chance to settle in, we should tell you more of our encounter with the stag, and decide on a plan of action."

Titus looks at his fellow magi, Gorgamesh and Gasparius, but he is unable to read their reaction to Valeria's appearance.
 

Nzld said:
The figure stops a respectful distance from the magi. He holds his hands outward, palms up, and slighty bows in a display of deference.

In very good Latin, he speaks. "I am Volkmar, custos of Durenmar." Recovering from his bowed state, he gestures slighty behind him. "I am charged to deliver unto Teneo the maga Valeria Libidia of House Verditius."
Valeria... Gasparius thinks, where did I hear that name...

From behind the giant of a man another figure - more lithe and graceful - emerges from the darkness. The glow of firelight easily illuminates her beautiful face, which is starkly offset agaist her dark, flowing hair.
Upon seeing her, memories of young boys' stories come to mind. Oh. This Vleria.

For a moment their eyes lock, and her desire is so clear. He averts his eyes, but cannot deny the urges of his body. The ememory of another woman floats before him, innocent, pure. They are so different. So different.
He returns his gaze, but she is already finishing her little speech, and Titus is quick to reply. Too slow, always too slow in a crowed.
There is an awkward silence, and he realizes Titus is looking to him for something to say. What can I possibly have to say that he hasn't?
"Yes, well, I can only echo the esteemed Titus in welcoming you, fair Valeria." He bows his head slightly. "Gasparius Ex Miscellenea, of Fengheld. I am charmed to meet you. And you, Custos of Durenmar", he smiles at Volkmar, "are also welcome".

He returns his eyes to the campfire. "You should sit by the fire, in the warmth and light, before you can hear of the dark and cold".
 

Gorgamesh

The Whore of Durenmar Gorgamesh thinks to himself.
although it's too difficult for him, the hunchback bows slightly to Valeria and Volkmar.
Greetings is the only word the quite deformed man says, he eyes the other magus and the new comers and says nothing else.

"Words are for the restless, even magic suppose to be quite" That was his moto in life, he never been a much of a talker, prefering to be left alone in the library instead of being with the other magus back in Durenmar.

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Oh.... new arrivals says Rodolf, the Shef, we have few pieces of turkey and cheese for you, come sit by the fire. he hurry back to the camp and brings a plate with food.
 

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