“You want a say, eh?” growls the king, mocking Kem’s accent. “Lower taxes?? The taxes that keep you fed? That keep you clothed and protected? The taxes without which you would die??”
Kem stands firm in his place. “All I know, kingy, is that you ain’t being truthful with us, nay, not at all,” says Kem. “Your castle is adorned with riches while your subjects sink in the mud! By Winter’s Fury, even yer horse eats better than the best o’ us!”
And with that, the horse gives a loud, frightened neigh and a huge gallop, heading straight for its master.
What happens next is total pandemonium all at once.
The mighty, fully trained warhorse bears for its master, the king, in a battle charge. It is obviously responding to what it thinks is an oft-repeated drill, and is looking for its master to mount it from its side as part of its gallop.
The crowd that sees the horse shouts in alarm, praising the Unblighted, Father Harvest, at the sign from heaven. “The horse knows! The horse knows!!” they cry.
The other half the crowd scream their fury at the king, and their agreement with Kem.
Kem looks to the horse and, never one to miss an opportunity, screams out to the king, “Even your favorite pet rises up in anger, eh kingy!!”
The king draws his sword in anger, but, at Kem’s scream, looks to the side. With a frightened yelp, the king dives into a side roll to get out of the way, not quite recognizing what the horse is about.
The bodyguards, who were about to bear down on the halfling, Kem, instead dive out of the way as the horse bowls past its master and rears up.
There is a loud TWANG! of a crossbow and a fleshy thump as a quarrel lands squarely in the horse’s chest. Instantly, the noble beast, survivor and co-conqueror of dozens of battles, falls to the ground, dead, sending up a shockwave of dust.
A harsh gust of wind blows the black dust out of the way quickly, revealing the shocked look of Prince Casak as he lowers the crossbow clearly aimed and meant for Kem’s heart.
The horse@ThacoBell ?? You used the horse???
LOL
I never would have thought of doing something like that in a million years!!
Just when I think the story is going a certain way...
Leave it to the players to make it better!!.
Sus'Ann watches the evolving situation with some repugnance, she's not fond of either party.
*Kem, you foul, you are so committed in killing yourself.*
The mention of the Bloodeye clan however makes her worry, and when Kem starts to agitate the crowd she starts walking for the halfling to end the tirade with a well placed knock on the head, before the situation ends in a bloodshed.
Then events happen too fast however, and the dwarven women sees the horse thrumping then hears it neighing and wathes it falling. She changes her target and hurries to the animal to see if she can help the poor creature yet.
Colden stands idle, contemplating at the scene which is unfolding in front of him. On the one hand, he believe in the King and the just rule of taxing and conscription, on the other hand he understands Kem's and the rests irritation and frustration of having to pay and receive so little in tangible returns.. He chooses to not act in this situation of chaos and law and instead moves quickly to the King's side and help him get up on his feet.
Surprised by this sudden events, Nareth is stunned by surprise, but his skills acquired during the service help him to quickly pull himself together. He turns off from Kem and rushes towards the King, pulling his long sword out of its scabbard and handing out orders and shouting at the guards:
" Oi men! Protect the King! Build a phalanx! " - shouts Nareth. Confused guards around are trying to carry out an order, pushed back by King's bodyguards. He finds himself standing with a sword bald and gazing at the havoc around. He notices Colden and afterwards searches for Casak in the crowd.
" Damned son of a dog! .. What else are ya up to? - thinks Nareth"
" Coincidence? Oh, ye!.. There's no coincidences like that!.. You have seen coincidences, but that is for sure nor one of them. “ - thinks Nareth and recalls the King’s conversation with Colden. Their suspicion of Kassak’s treason together with a possible attempt to assassinate the King. At some point...
" Did he decide to do it here and now? So stupidly and recklessly? " - however, he has to protect the Monarch at any cost.
A deafening silence falls on everyone for a split second as all eyes rest on Prince Casak.
Then Kem cries out, “You were trying to kill me, eh??!!” he turns and runs back into the crowd.
And several things happen at once.
The crowd accepts Kem, now mostly united in their anger, with a roar of condemnation at Prince Casak. “He would have killed him!” they scream. Others in the crowd, though, shout out, “He defied the king, he deserved it!” though they are much fewer in number and their voices get drowned out. The crowd starts to look very threatening.
Nareth’s quick thinking rallies the guard around their king, who is staring at his beloved horse in disbelief and shock. The sudden movement sends Prince Casak’s guard into action, and they surround their leader, Casak, as well.
This, however, has a sort of enraging effect on the peasantry. “A bit defensive, are ye? You are the ones who tried to kill us!” Kem’s voice calls out invisibly from the crowd. Some of them take up makeshift weapons. “The real enemy is right in front of us, lads!” comes the scream of a few. “They’ve made that clear!” But they do not charge the stalwart soldiers headed by a quick-acting Nareth.
Sus’Ann approaches the horse and kneels down. She knows immediately that the horse is dead. The quarrel struck it square in the heart. The king recognizes the look on the dwarven priestess’ face, and his jaws set.
“Get off of me!” he shouts at Colden trying to help him up. He shoves him away.
Oblivious to the soldiers moving around him, he approaches the mighty horse carcass and tears fill his eyes. Luckily, the peasantry cannot see him, or they may have been enraged beyond reason to see his sorrow for a dead animal override his sorrow at almost slaying his very own subject, Kem.
He looks up at his son, fury burning in his tear-streaked eyes. 24 year old Casak gives a sort of guilty attempt at a comforting, nervous smile, very much like a teenager who just damaged his father’s most prized possession.
The king’s blazing fury almost bursts from his body in explosive rage. In fact, his hands grip his sword tightly. Then, in a sudden change of character that Colden has witnessed on several occasions, his expression changes from rageful to calculating, and coldly vengeful, and almost elated. It happens when he comes up with a particularly dastardly idea to get back at his opponents, and they are usually cruel.
Prince Casak has seen that clever grin on his father’s face before, as well, and his own nervous smile vanishes to be replaced with a slightly sickened color.
The king looks at the angry peasantry and realizes this is the perfect opportunity.
“Good people of Astorwind!” he cries, stepping out from the soldiers with his arms open and proud look on his face. “I, your noble, merciful king, have heard the arguments presented to me, and my heart had been moved!”
“What??” Casak mutters under his breath, but loudly enough to be heard.
“Good Kem’s brave words have not fallen on deaf ears!” continues Corak. “Knowing that the tax burden I have placed on you weighs heavily, therefore I will grant this boon by royal decree!
“Any who serve me at this time of need by accepting the draft into the army shall have their taxes lowered to 30%!!”
The announcement stuns the crowd into absolute silence. There is a loud crash behind the king as Prince Casak falls from his horse. “FATHER, YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS!” he screams in panic, trying to rush to his father’s side. He trips onto his face with another crash, however, as his foot catches in the stirrup.
“This boon shall be bestowed permanently upon your families whether or not you yourselves survive!” the king continues, ignoring his son, to raucous applause and cheering from the crowd.
Colden's mind race and he tries to make a quick assessment on the impact on the Crown's revenues from this reduced tax. Oh my, it will be substantial..
Colden, moves closer to Lagrord as well and looks at him with a puzzled face, as in "what is happening?".
Nareth frowns at the soldiers, who vigorously express their approval for the King.
" Silence, ye morons! .. Or since tonight your families will receive a 30% off from taxes for ye severed heads! " - he is trying to hide his astonishment behind the sergeant's rude speeches.
He, however, still fails it badly, as the soldiers continue to discuss the King’s decision in a whisper.
"Laggie", Colden use his more familiar nicname for Lagrord, "I think Casak aimed for Kem. I've tutored the boy for many years, I know he can be.. impulsive and rash. But I don't know for sure. I fear this will bring much turmoil to the kingdom and we must aid where we can to bring back stability, for the greater good."
After the royal decree, the conscripts veritably run into the ranks of the patrol.
The king directs Nareth to handle the conscripts. He ignores Sus’Ann. Then he takes Colden (and Lagrord) aside to where Gressick is standing with an amused look on his face. As the king arrives, Prince Casak approaches, his visage furious
“Father...!” he begins.
“Silence, little fool!” says the king. “You killed my horse!”
“I was aiming for the halfling!” the prince whines.
“Were you?” spits the king. “Had you been successful, you would have incited a riot! In fact, you nearly did!”
“You drew your sword!” counters Casak.
”I AM THE KING!!” shouts Corak, loud enough that the villagers look up. “You are just a boy in need of a wet nurse, primping yourself and whining like a child! No, go to your regiment! Away from me, I command it!”
Prince Casak’s face goes through a plethora of emotions, but finally he turns tail and runs. Public berating is a common occurrence for him, and he does not wish to give his father a chance to turn to his customary violence.
“30%?” grins Gressick. “What are you doing, Corak?”
“You must listen on the eve of battle,” says the king, looking to both of his advisors and ensuring no one else is around. “I expect us all to survive, but battle is fickle. If I do not, you must know my plan and use it to your advantage.”
“Well, then what is it?” asks Gressick.
“My son is a weakling,” says Corak, looking around again to make sure that no one but Colden and Gressick (and Lagrord) is within earshot. Nareth is taking in the conscripts, and Sus’Ann is not part of the royal retinue. Gressick’s daughter is on the other side of the square, waiting obediently. “He will not wish to be crowned king over a populace that has just been given a promise of lower taxes.”
“Ahh...” says Gressick. “So you believe this will prevent any... assassination attempt?”
“Certainly,” says Corak. “As I said, my son is weak, but he is also foolish. He would not honor my promise of a 30% tax and kill any who refuse to pay 50%. He might even raise it higher than that out of spite, further adding to the flames and the blood on his hands. The fool would spill the blood of his livestock for not giving enough milk, starving himself for winter. He acts like I have taught him nothing! He will not see a good way out of this, and so he will stay his hand on my life... for now.”
“And what will happen when you return?” asks Gressick. “You have promised lower taxes.”
“This halfling underground has become more of a nuisance than I had anticipated,” says the king. “I almost created a martyr. I have my horse to thank for saving me from that mistake. And you, Colden.
“I must find a way to flush the underground out. This will make them bold. They will begin to demand more. You heard them, Gressick! They want an actual say in the law! Can you believe the arrogance? This is a serious threat.
“I cannot stand for it. I doubt that Kem is their leader. No, he is probably just a foolish loud mouth parroting the words aloud that they only whisper amongst themselves. I must find their leader, and all his supporters and their thinkers. I can’t believe they were this bold! I was foolish to downplay the rumors.
“But they will come out of the woodwork once they believe they can actually sway my opinion... then I will reestablish order in my lands. And they will suffer for their defiance of my crown.”
Gressick nods in dawning comprehension. “You are a clever one, my king,” he says.
In meantime Nareth watches Sus'Ann and her attempts to cure the dying horse. His gaze dawns on a sudden guess, so he sheathes his sword and rubs his beard thoughtfully.
" Very right reaction in this situation. " - he watches her actions - “ Very right and timely, I say. Certainly, Sus'Ann is not the Head of the Clerics Order, but the gal's intentions and zeal can serve well in the subsequent quest. ”
He resolutely heads towards her, trying to through a row of soldiers, and looking back at His Majesty and Colden behind the soldiers and bodyguards. Coming closer, he crouches next to the priestess, inspecting the unfortunate animal:
“ How bad is everything, eh? ” - Nareth asks a meaningless question, trying not to interrupt her healing efforts - “ Can I help somehow? ” - then he looks back on soldiers: " Erb! Jackal! Some over here, me lads, and put off your capes! " - Nareth also removes his cloak, tearing it down with his dagger to make bandages. He is looking for a place on the horse's body where to put a harness: " I remember, how one hunter shot a cow down in me village. Did not want it though. I hope, horse is like a cow, right? "
His meaningless efforts are aimed just to make himself busy with something as without a doubt the horse will not live long. The Prince's bolt hit the animal deep and badly.
"My King, you know I trust more in my learning than in intuition, but I agree with your plan. It's a sound plan and we will all help you execute it, to the letter. And if new information comes to us in the future it would be my honor to help you decide on the next and best action to take. " Colden bows his head ever so slightly as a sign of respect.
Colden isn't completely sure about the plan, but he knows the King well enough to know he needs to praise it. Only by staying in Corak's good favor can he continue to try and gently nudge and guide the King towards the greater good.
Sus'Ann murmurs a thankful prayer to the Unblighted for losing only an animal life today.
"Be the light with you Nareth, hello. Could have gone worse. I feel more sorry for this animal than for that fool Kem, but this horse prevented bloodshed today more than likely.
Nothing to done here now."
The king nods his thanks at both his advisors, oblivious to Colden’s reservations.
He leads Colden and Lagrord to Gressick’s daughter.
“I have explained to Garta your mission, Master Colden,” says Gressick, indicating his daughter. She is a fairly tall woman with strange tattoos covering her face and body. She carries a sling and an assortment of fighting and throwing daggers strapped to her chest. Her black hair is kept up so as to keep out of her face. She wears strong bear-hide armor and is dressed for freezing temperatures.
“Master Colden,” she nods.
“I trust you are all in good hands!” says the king. “I will see you on the border. Good luck, though I still believe this is a waste of time. Come on, Gressick!”
He turns and heads for his drafted regiment.
Gressick gives his daughter a customary raider goodbye, which consists of holding each other’s shoulders. Then he nods curtly to you and follows the king.
Garta looks at Colden expectantly, but her eyes fall with frequent curiosity on Lagrord standing, nondescript, at the dwarf’s side.
"Hello Garta. It's a pleasure to meet you. " Colden tilts his head ever so briefly as a courteous greeting to the powerful woman.
"We have our mission, I expect you have the details already? We need to prepare for departure and would greatly appreciate your expertise in deciding what we should bring. We need to be agile, quick and unencumbered, yet prepared for any situation we might encounter. Clothes, armor, weapons, food and rations, maps, ink, paper, more ink and paper, scrolls, gloves, boots, cloaks, hats, packs, bags, ale, bread, dried jerky, spicy wine.. Ahem, I might have got carried away there. " Colden looks a little embarrassed, but he is getting a little hungry. Mm.. bread, roasted beef, melted butter and a strong ale! Yes, that's what he needs now after all this commotion. "That was just some suggestions.. I am open for your expertly advice in the matter."
“We do not bring horses,” she says. “Horses are highly prized prey of many hunter monsters in the Valley. Many monsters will throw caution to the wind if they can feast on horse flesh. Man flesh is not as sweet. We must bring only what we can carry.
“My Father has given me instructions to bring you to Warne-harsard Wast, or, in the words of my people, Death Fields. It is an ancient retreat of desperation for many raider clans. If the Bloodeye Clan were defeated, they would likely have gone there to recover.
“It is a 3 day journey from here, if we do not run into any problem. Then it is a 3 day journey to our rendezvous point with father on the border.
“I recommend carrying enough food for one weeks, and water for 3 days, in case we get lost or separated. We will supplement as much as possible with hunting and foraging. Also, you must dress warmly. It is freezing out at Warne-harsard Wast. We may be able light some fires, but I would not rely on it.”
"Expertly said!" Colden says with emphasis. "Me and Laggie here", Colden nods towards Lagrord, ".. will go back to our quarters and dress for the occasion, as well as bring any supplies we find. Do you want to accompany us or should we meet up when we are ready to leave?"
He gets up and tries not to interfere with the priestess in order to do her job, asking nonetheless furtively:
“ M'Lady Sus'Ann, ya have already offered aid for wounded, don't ya? With such talents on the battlefield ya will would be irreplaceable. ” - he is habitually scraping his beard, two soldiers put their capes under the wounded horse. One holds its head trying to help the priestess.
Nareth calmly continues the conversation further: " Our humble party needs a good priest for the King's quest. Please forgive me, M'Lady, for being rude. I understand that this is not the right moment, but if ya want to discuss it later - let me know. I wouldn't want the High Priest to appoint us an inexperienced green acolyte, who would just die outside his mother's robes... But, as said, these are just our problems... And the problems of the King, I say... " - his voice's tone express the badly hidden hope.
"Did you have to call me 'Laggie' in front of the humans? Its hard enough to get respect around here."
Despite his complaint, there is a faint smirk on Lagrord's face.
@mashedtaters How will getting supplies work? Would my character even be acknowledged by merchants?
"Well, no Laggie.. I don't have to call you Laggie in front of the other longlegs, but I like it, haha!" Colden smiles and laughs, the tension of the recent turmoil washing out of him in mere seconds after some friendly banter with his friend. His eyes are clearly signaling that he's just joking and mean nothing bad.
"Come now, we should probably get out of here and start to prepare. And please, don't lag behind. " Colden again laughs at his own joke.
Comments
Kem stands firm in his place. “All I know, kingy, is that you ain’t being truthful with us, nay, not at all,” says Kem. “Your castle is adorned with riches while your subjects sink in the mud! By Winter’s Fury, even yer horse eats better than the best o’ us!”
And with that, the horse gives a loud, frightened neigh and a huge gallop, heading straight for its master.
The mighty, fully trained warhorse bears for its master, the king, in a battle charge. It is obviously responding to what it thinks is an oft-repeated drill, and is looking for its master to mount it from its side as part of its gallop.
The crowd that sees the horse shouts in alarm, praising the Unblighted, Father Harvest, at the sign from heaven. “The horse knows! The horse knows!!” they cry.
The other half the crowd scream their fury at the king, and their agreement with Kem.
Kem looks to the horse and, never one to miss an opportunity, screams out to the king, “Even your favorite pet rises up in anger, eh kingy!!”
The king draws his sword in anger, but, at Kem’s scream, looks to the side. With a frightened yelp, the king dives into a side roll to get out of the way, not quite recognizing what the horse is about.
The bodyguards, who were about to bear down on the halfling, Kem, instead dive out of the way as the horse bowls past its master and rears up.
There is a loud TWANG! of a crossbow and a fleshy thump as a quarrel lands squarely in the horse’s chest. Instantly, the noble beast, survivor and co-conqueror of dozens of battles, falls to the ground, dead, sending up a shockwave of dust.
A harsh gust of wind blows the black dust out of the way quickly, revealing the shocked look of Prince Casak as he lowers the crossbow clearly aimed and meant for Kem’s heart.
LOL
I never would have thought of doing something like that in a million years!!
Just when I think the story is going a certain way...
Leave it to the players to make it better!!.
*Kem, you foul, you are so committed in killing yourself.*
The mention of the Bloodeye clan however makes her worry, and when Kem starts to agitate the crowd she starts walking for the halfling to end the tirade with a well placed knock on the head, before the situation ends in a bloodshed.
Then events happen too fast however, and the dwarven women sees the horse thrumping then hears it neighing and wathes it falling. She changes her target and hurries to the animal to see if she can help the poor creature yet.
"Are you allright, my King?"
" Oi men! Protect the King! Build a phalanx! " - shouts Nareth. Confused guards around are trying to carry out an order, pushed back by King's bodyguards. He finds himself standing with a sword bald and gazing at the havoc around. He notices Colden and afterwards searches for Casak in the crowd.
"Well Cram, I suugest we extricate ourselves from the situation."
" Did he decide to do it here and now? So stupidly and recklessly? " - however, he has to protect the Monarch at any cost.
Then Kem cries out, “You were trying to kill me, eh??!!” he turns and runs back into the crowd.
And several things happen at once.
The crowd accepts Kem, now mostly united in their anger, with a roar of condemnation at Prince Casak. “He would have killed him!” they scream. Others in the crowd, though, shout out, “He defied the king, he deserved it!” though they are much fewer in number and their voices get drowned out. The crowd starts to look very threatening.
Nareth’s quick thinking rallies the guard around their king, who is staring at his beloved horse in disbelief and shock. The sudden movement sends Prince Casak’s guard into action, and they surround their leader, Casak, as well.
This, however, has a sort of enraging effect on the peasantry. “A bit defensive, are ye? You are the ones who tried to kill us!” Kem’s voice calls out invisibly from the crowd. Some of them take up makeshift weapons. “The real enemy is right in front of us, lads!” comes the scream of a few. “They’ve made that clear!” But they do not charge the stalwart soldiers headed by a quick-acting Nareth.
“Get off of me!” he shouts at Colden trying to help him up. He shoves him away.
Oblivious to the soldiers moving around him, he approaches the mighty horse carcass and tears fill his eyes. Luckily, the peasantry cannot see him, or they may have been enraged beyond reason to see his sorrow for a dead animal override his sorrow at almost slaying his very own subject, Kem.
He looks up at his son, fury burning in his tear-streaked eyes. 24 year old Casak gives a sort of guilty attempt at a comforting, nervous smile, very much like a teenager who just damaged his father’s most prized possession.
The king’s blazing fury almost bursts from his body in explosive rage. In fact, his hands grip his sword tightly. Then, in a sudden change of character that Colden has witnessed on several occasions, his expression changes from rageful to calculating, and coldly vengeful, and almost elated. It happens when he comes up with a particularly dastardly idea to get back at his opponents, and they are usually cruel.
Prince Casak has seen that clever grin on his father’s face before, as well, and his own nervous smile vanishes to be replaced with a slightly sickened color.
“Good people of Astorwind!” he cries, stepping out from the soldiers with his arms open and proud look on his face. “I, your noble, merciful king, have heard the arguments presented to me, and my heart had been moved!”
“What??” Casak mutters under his breath, but loudly enough to be heard.
“Good Kem’s brave words have not fallen on deaf ears!” continues Corak. “Knowing that the tax burden I have placed on you weighs heavily, therefore I will grant this boon by royal decree!
“Any who serve me at this time of need by accepting the draft into the army shall have their taxes lowered to 30%!!”
The announcement stuns the crowd into absolute silence. There is a loud crash behind the king as Prince Casak falls from his horse. “FATHER, YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS!” he screams in panic, trying to rush to his father’s side. He trips onto his face with another crash, however, as his foot catches in the stirrup.
“This boon shall be bestowed permanently upon your families whether or not you yourselves survive!” the king continues, ignoring his son, to raucous applause and cheering from the crowd.
Colden, moves closer to Lagrord as well and looks at him with a puzzled face, as in "what is happening?".
" Silence, ye morons! .. Or since tonight your families will receive a 30% off from taxes for ye severed heads! " - he is trying to hide his astonishment behind the sergeant's rude speeches.
He, however, still fails it badly, as the soldiers continue to discuss the King’s decision in a whisper.
The king directs Nareth to handle the conscripts. He ignores Sus’Ann. Then he takes Colden (and Lagrord) aside to where Gressick is standing with an amused look on his face. As the king arrives, Prince Casak approaches, his visage furious
“Father...!” he begins.
“Silence, little fool!” says the king. “You killed my horse!”
“I was aiming for the halfling!” the prince whines.
“Were you?” spits the king. “Had you been successful, you would have incited a riot! In fact, you nearly did!”
“You drew your sword!” counters Casak.
”I AM THE KING!!” shouts Corak, loud enough that the villagers look up. “You are just a boy in need of a wet nurse, primping yourself and whining like a child! No, go to your regiment! Away from me, I command it!”
Prince Casak’s face goes through a plethora of emotions, but finally he turns tail and runs. Public berating is a common occurrence for him, and he does not wish to give his father a chance to turn to his customary violence.
“You must listen on the eve of battle,” says the king, looking to both of his advisors and ensuring no one else is around. “I expect us all to survive, but battle is fickle. If I do not, you must know my plan and use it to your advantage.”
“Well, then what is it?” asks Gressick.
“My son is a weakling,” says Corak, looking around again to make sure that no one but Colden and Gressick (and Lagrord) is within earshot. Nareth is taking in the conscripts, and Sus’Ann is not part of the royal retinue. Gressick’s daughter is on the other side of the square, waiting obediently. “He will not wish to be crowned king over a populace that has just been given a promise of lower taxes.”
“Ahh...” says Gressick. “So you believe this will prevent any... assassination attempt?”
“Certainly,” says Corak. “As I said, my son is weak, but he is also foolish. He would not honor my promise of a 30% tax and kill any who refuse to pay 50%. He might even raise it higher than that out of spite, further adding to the flames and the blood on his hands. The fool would spill the blood of his livestock for not giving enough milk, starving himself for winter. He acts like I have taught him nothing! He will not see a good way out of this, and so he will stay his hand on my life... for now.”
“And what will happen when you return?” asks Gressick. “You have promised lower taxes.”
“This halfling underground has become more of a nuisance than I had anticipated,” says the king. “I almost created a martyr. I have my horse to thank for saving me from that mistake. And you, Colden.
“I must find a way to flush the underground out. This will make them bold. They will begin to demand more. You heard them, Gressick! They want an actual say in the law! Can you believe the arrogance? This is a serious threat.
“I cannot stand for it. I doubt that Kem is their leader. No, he is probably just a foolish loud mouth parroting the words aloud that they only whisper amongst themselves. I must find their leader, and all his supporters and their thinkers. I can’t believe they were this bold! I was foolish to downplay the rumors.
“But they will come out of the woodwork once they believe they can actually sway my opinion... then I will reestablish order in my lands. And they will suffer for their defiance of my crown.”
Gressick nods in dawning comprehension. “You are a clever one, my king,” he says.
Corak looks to Colden for his praise.
He resolutely heads towards her, trying to through a row of soldiers, and looking back at His Majesty and Colden behind the soldiers and bodyguards. Coming closer, he crouches next to the priestess, inspecting the unfortunate animal:
“ How bad is everything, eh? ” - Nareth asks a meaningless question, trying not to interrupt her healing efforts - “ Can I help somehow? ” - then he looks back on soldiers: " Erb! Jackal! Some over here, me lads, and put off your capes! " - Nareth also removes his cloak, tearing it down with his dagger to make bandages. He is looking for a place on the horse's body where to put a harness: " I remember, how one hunter shot a cow down in me village. Did not want it though. I hope, horse is like a cow, right? "
His meaningless efforts are aimed just to make himself busy with something as without a doubt the horse will not live long. The Prince's bolt hit the animal deep and badly.
Lagrord is disgusted with himself.
Colden isn't completely sure about the plan, but he knows the King well enough to know he needs to praise it. Only by staying in Corak's good favor can he continue to try and gently nudge and guide the King towards the greater good.
"Be the light with you Nareth, hello. Could have gone worse. I feel more sorry for this animal than for that fool Kem, but this horse prevented bloodshed today more than likely.
Nothing to done here now."
He leads Colden and Lagrord to Gressick’s daughter.
“I have explained to Garta your mission, Master Colden,” says Gressick, indicating his daughter. She is a fairly tall woman with strange tattoos covering her face and body. She carries a sling and an assortment of fighting and throwing daggers strapped to her chest. Her black hair is kept up so as to keep out of her face. She wears strong bear-hide armor and is dressed for freezing temperatures.
“Master Colden,” she nods.
“I trust you are all in good hands!” says the king. “I will see you on the border. Good luck, though I still believe this is a waste of time. Come on, Gressick!”
He turns and heads for his drafted regiment.
Gressick gives his daughter a customary raider goodbye, which consists of holding each other’s shoulders. Then he nods curtly to you and follows the king.
Garta looks at Colden expectantly, but her eyes fall with frequent curiosity on Lagrord standing, nondescript, at the dwarf’s side.
"We have our mission, I expect you have the details already? We need to prepare for departure and would greatly appreciate your expertise in deciding what we should bring. We need to be agile, quick and unencumbered, yet prepared for any situation we might encounter. Clothes, armor, weapons, food and rations, maps, ink, paper, more ink and paper, scrolls, gloves, boots, cloaks, hats, packs, bags, ale, bread, dried jerky, spicy wine.. Ahem, I might have got carried away there. " Colden looks a little embarrassed, but he is getting a little hungry. Mm.. bread, roasted beef, melted butter and a strong ale! Yes, that's what he needs now after all this commotion. "That was just some suggestions.. I am open for your expertly advice in the matter."
“My Father has given me instructions to bring you to Warne-harsard Wast, or, in the words of my people, Death Fields. It is an ancient retreat of desperation for many raider clans. If the Bloodeye Clan were defeated, they would likely have gone there to recover.
“It is a 3 day journey from here, if we do not run into any problem. Then it is a 3 day journey to our rendezvous point with father on the border.
“I recommend carrying enough food for one weeks, and water for 3 days, in case we get lost or separated. We will supplement as much as possible with hunting and foraging. Also, you must dress warmly. It is freezing out at Warne-harsard Wast. We may be able light some fires, but I would not rely on it.”
He gets up and tries not to interfere with the priestess in order to do her job, asking nonetheless furtively:
“ M'Lady Sus'Ann, ya have already offered aid for wounded, don't ya? With such talents on the battlefield ya will would be irreplaceable. ” - he is habitually scraping his beard, two soldiers put their capes under the wounded horse. One holds its head trying to help the priestess.
Nareth calmly continues the conversation further: " Our humble party needs a good priest for the King's quest. Please forgive me, M'Lady, for being rude. I understand that this is not the right moment, but if ya want to discuss it later - let me know. I wouldn't want the High Priest to appoint us an inexperienced green acolyte, who would just die outside his mother's robes... But, as said, these are just our problems... And the problems of the King, I say... " - his voice's tone express the badly hidden hope.
"Did you have to call me 'Laggie' in front of the humans? Its hard enough to get respect around here."
Despite his complaint, there is a faint smirk on Lagrord's face.
"Come now, we should probably get out of here and start to prepare. And please, don't lag behind. " Colden again laughs at his own joke.