Notices


Chapter 6 - South to Saerloon

   
Grenessel nodded in response to the thanks, eyes looking to the skies with longing.

It had taken him a while to get used to the winds and the height, but by now the sky felt as safe to him as the woods had, only the skies were everywhere, even places the woods could not touch. True freedom. He wanted nothing more than to take wing again and avoid dealing with any more people than was necessary.

Despite that, he would not let himself hinder the group in anyway, and if their was dastardly intent, he didn't intend to be the one to give them away. Instead, he let his mind wander.


Kesendaran watches as Joachim, the strange armoured fellow, drifted with both horses to the road's side. Why? Just because something is coming? Hell with them. With his raptor sniffing the air in front of him, the shaman remains right in the middle of the road, absently looking around as if he was but taking a leisure walk. He begins chanting a tribal song, with no discernible words, clapping his saddle and clicking his fingers as instruments. Is the man insane?

Martin shot a look at the shaman who had begun what looked like a merry caper in the saddle of his beast. This seemed like trouble... the travelers on the road ahead would most likely be unaware just what kind of fearsome creature the man rode, and may attack unprovoked just out of fear of the unknown.

A seasoned soldier, Martin is aware of just how fights can ensue out of what seemed like almost nothing and he smelled a possible one now. The archer left the cart he was riding in and took cover behind a convenient tree.

When Gren reports the news, each of the party acts according to his nature, whether they know it or not. Garak, ever the loner, runs into the forest and disappears from sight, no trace of him remaining. Gren lands his mount and takes position where Garak used to be, off to the side of the path to guard their flank. Lucifer, however, moves to the middle of the convoy, protected on all sides by those bigger and stronger than him.

Joachim moves to the side as well, but maintains his position at the front of the group, allowing the approaching caravan free room to maneuver. Kesendaran seems interested in something else entirely, maintaining his place in the middle of the road, and breaks into some odd tribal song. Ser Martin, seeing this odd behavior, decides to follow Garak's example and ducks into the foliage aside the road...


A few minutes pass, and soon the approaching Caravan comes into view. As Gren had relayed, two armored horsemen led up front, followed by a trio of horses pulling a large cart, and finally a single armored rider in the back. The lead guards are dressed to maintain maximum protection while mobile, garbed in chainmail and leathers, swords tucked into scabbards across their waists. Behind them, a small wiry fellow mans the horse-team, sitting atop the front-most edge of the cart. He seems to be carrying no weapons, but that is far from rare among merchants travelling with an escort of guards. Behind the cart, the third guard, this one dressed in studded-leather armor and carrying a crossbow across his back, as well as a blade across his waist.

Upon seeing the motley group gathered on the road before them, the Guards direct their horses to stop, halting the caravan in its tracks.

"Hello there!" one of them exclaims, still atop his mount. Looking around at the group, his eyes wander from the huge Paladin in front, to the odd collection of fellows behind him, as well as the odd Hippogriph off to the side of the path. Finally, his gaze settles on Kesendaran in the center of the path, sitting atop a frightful beast and chanting odd words.

"Who are you folk?" he shouts, one hand leaving his reigns and edging closer to his sword. "Whatever your answer, I advise you to disperse immediately!"
"We have important business in Saerb, and cannot be delayed!"

Ghar'ra still gives two or three steps after the caravan's horses stop, the delay being due to the slowed awareness of its rider. Kesendaran doesn't seem phased by meeting these guards, as his stare at them is as curious as when he finds a strange bug in his random wanderings. He studies them for a minute, appraising the armours and the face of the wiry man and then shrugs. His lips are back to that sardonic grin of his, which seems to be the normal state of his facial expression.

Da road be large. Dere be plenty o'space ta pass. He gestures to his sides, showing the remaining space around him that probably would oblige the horses to pass closer to the dinosaur than they're willing to.

Lucifer lifted his head slightly to examine the Caravan ahead of him, and the men who asked that they move aside. He watched the others he was traveling with, choosing to follow their lead at this juncture. The face of his familiar poked through from his left shoulder to watch curiously as well. The Ghostly Visage was eager to simply kill, though it's master was hesitant to take action without cause.

All the same, he made ready to cast a spell if the situation warranted. He assumed that the Paladin would attempt to take the role of defending the party, and he was suited for it. The Necromancer however, despite his competence at melee, preferred to use his dark gift from a distance. For that, his Spectral Hand spell would be perfectly suited. He did not cast of yet, but would he moment it became apparent that there would be battle.

He let his eyes wander in search of the assassin, then smirked. That would be the one to watch for, he could kill any one of them from the shadows. Lucifer was unsure whether he was friend or foe, but he understood the man to an extent.

He took a deep breath, then gazed back towards those of the other caravan. The man was impatient, and rude. The necromancer moved himself on Dusk Taker closer to the lead, then said, "Important or not, that does not excuse a lack of decorum. I am not fond of demands, and I am certain there are those that travel at my side who feel the same. You had but to ask, and I would gladly step aside without protest, but I do not cater to demands."

Gren swallowed uneasily. It would have been far simpler to just let this other caravan go by without so much as a nod or a wave. Instead, the Necromancer and the Shaman insisted on interaction, almost hostile in intent. He slid his hands over the pommel of his saddle nervously, unconsciously close to his bow.

If combat broke out, he wasn't sure if he would take to the sky, or take part in the fray. Rudeness aside, they had no quarrel with these men.

Joachim lifted his free left arm in greeting "Well met travellers. We just came from Saerb, we are a group of travellers. some of us stood sole against the invading army at the gates of Saerb and fended them off." He paused to see the others reaction, from behind him he had heard some protest to the man's rudeness and urging to move aside. However the man was in a hurry so he might have forgotten his manners some miles behind in all his haste. Then again it was not the wisest thing to threaten a group as big as theirs, but Joachim sought no quarrel so he remained calm.

"This business you speak of, is no secret I take by your fanfare, would you be so kind as to let us know more. Share with us, who have Saerbs best interest, and even had a hand in it's politics?" Joachim asked cordially. His hands lay relaxed, although one of them had a lance in hand and was ready to pierce anything that did a bit more threatening move his way.

To his right side Gerwin was thinking gloom thoughts that involved stripping the man of his armor and hanging him upside down from a tree and leaving him there for some peasants mercy to take him down or not. Insolent fool to go about as if he himself were king or the lackey of such, and even if he indeed were he had no moral fundamental to act as he was. Good for nothing ...

And only after the man's reply, the paladin turned back to the two that had made their stand in the midst of the road, the necromancer and the madman, well the madman on a dinosaur anyhow. "I ask you, for the demonstration of the goodwill of our group, to forgive this man his rudeness and step aside, for the cart driver might not be the best to manoeuvre around both cart and beast, besides, singing one you have to admit that the will to bite of your companion is one of a nature hard to foresee and control, and you Bone Singer" Joachim had forgotten the others nickname already, he had wanted to say Morning Boner, but thought that that ought not be the name of the other, although related to rising and bones. "Can't you see that their cart is bigger than yours."

Martin stepped forward from the foliage, relaxing and lowering his bow as he did so. If this group proved diplomatic enough to avoid trouble, there would be none. Thank the yew and the straight shot for the paladin. It was as if the man was the only sane one in the group, and the rest of them were only looking for an excuse to demonstrate their capabilities in combat.

"Hail and well met," the former Knight said, and left it at that. He wasn't gifted in the tongue, and reticence was ever his way.

Kesendaran stares at Joachim who so eloquently spoke, his expression unreadable for a while. But at least he has stopped singing.

From deep within his chest comes a giggle. Then the giggle becomes a grin. Then the grin becomes an all-out laughter. The crazy man doubles himself laughing, tears coming to his eyes for something really funny he must've seen to react like this. Guiding his giant lizard to the side, the wave of laughter begins to fade after a minute, though the smile never leaves his face.

He doesn't give an explanation, simply grinning to the caravan guard, waiting for them to pass.





Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.8
Copyright ©2000 - 2014, vBulletin Solutions, Inc.
Myth-Weavers Status