Childrens Crusade: IC

[rweird]

You meet in the woods in the predawn light. Birds chirp, oblivious to Tegtwiby's betrayal.

First Group: Two other groups just have stumbled in, the first also looks tired and worried, the other is bringing fresh caught game and, though surprised to find you, doesn't seem worried.

Hunters: You see three kids in a clearing, tired and bloody, another group is entering the clearing across from you. They seem tired, though unhurt, everyone seems worried and on edge.

Second wave escapees: You see three kids in a clearing, tired and bloody and worried, another group is entering the clearing across from you. They are bringing fresh caught game. They don't seem worried, though the do seem surprised.

Spoiler

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OoC Topic: http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showt...8#post13842658

[Worlok]

Both of these plans are... not sound enough...

Reynsfarn startled, someone having somehow just said something somewhere in some less-than-frequently frequented recess of his memory. They were out of the city. They'd made it. He'd made it, and that was all that counted, now, wasn't it? But they weren't alone.

Not anymore. Then again, when is a group ever really alone?

That from the kid with the voice in his head.

Let's not get philosophical. They have meat. Been a while.

A few hours, tops. I basically really just ate.

Also more than one voice, if I must be precise. My own, several times. And keep in mind I've been running and bluffing and generally surviving for quite some time.

Don't you retards get smart with me. They have meat.

One in their favor. Then, though, they also have mouths.

One to their detriment. They have meat, I have hunger, so have they, and I'm -hells- more superior than them.

Looks like easy math. Superior, I am.

Third in line.

Third to last.

To the throne.

Adric's throne.

Not anymore.

Not their meat. Not for long at least. Hunger. Mine.

Could you just shut up? A true duke always keeps his countenance.

That's nerd-talk, don't give me -that- again!

I'm not a nerd. I'll show them the knife and ask them to state their purpose, and then take control. Over the group.

Man in charge. Countenance and food.

Control over their meat.

My meat.

Hunger.

Quiet, now.

Focus. State their purpose.

Giving me their meat.

That is one.

To their detriment.

In my favor.

I'm most important now.

Third in line.

Wearily eying the newcomers, the prospective Duke of Wyther went to some lengths to not let on what was happening in his head - he always seemed to get these disjointed, seemingly highly quarrelsome thoughts into it, much like holding counsel with a number of even worse Reynsfarns from otherwhere. But for now, he was right once again. Of course. He could use a bite to eat, for one, and after Tegtwiby and the reactions he had drawn, he wouldn't trust these people easily. Even though he did recognise some of them. And seeing how he would most likely not get any chances to see things done his way from here on out...

Yeah, I would. I am the trueborn future duke of Wyther, after all!

Alright then. But this is the -best- chance that I'm going to get.

Anytime soon, that is, at any rate.

Agreed then. And nice save.

I know. I'm awesome, after all.

And smart.

"Heh. You, there. With the meat. And you, other kids. Who are you? What are you doing here?"

But don't let on just who I am just now, momentum of surprise.

I'm smart. Did I ever tell me that?

"And what do you want? State your purpose!" Trying to look as menacing as he could with his feeble frame, he ruffled up his sheep-skin-overcoat and led one hand to the half-hidden knife he carried through his belt.

[Virtue]

They were gone.

Elijah sat huddled over the makeshift campfire, that Edward had created for them. They were all that was left. Well, and Reynsfarn. The young half-elf looked up at their third companion, and contemplated silently. The young noble was close in line to the throne now, wasn't he? With the heirs gone...

Elijah curled up tighter against himself. He hadn't been able to save anyone. He was still the meek child his father had always told him he was. Even when their party had been betrayed, he had not stood up against him.

He sighed softly, and poked at the fire, lost in his thoughts. This morning, he had been comfortable in a bed, and now they were lost to the woods. The only survivors it seemed of the royal youth. What would happen now? Was the king dead? Was there hope for the empire? Was his father gone?

Did he care?

That was the part that both worried and frightened Elijah. He knew in his heart, he didn't truly care if his family had succumbed to the treachery of Tegwiby. They had never been a warm, and comforting family, even at the best of times.

The only part he regretted was never having enough power to show his father, that he was capable and worthy of living up to the Roarke honor.

Or did that really matter anymore?

Elijah rummaged in the few belongs he had left and took out his journal. Here and there, were writings that hinted at the lost arts of the elves. Some, considerably more powerful than others. He had always been nervous about applying their trade, but perhaps here in this forest clearing, he was meant to choose his path, towards a more deeper destiny.

He set down the journal again, and let his hands hover over the odd new sword he had picked up. He had already had to leave behind his weapons, lost to an earlier skirmish. This new greatsword seemed more unwieldy than his Courtblade, but he was still more comfortable with it, than naught. He sighed again, and could only imagine what new moments the next day would brin--

*snap*

Hmm? A sound came from the forest woods, and Elijah gripped the greatsword slowly. Had the armies tracked them here?

*snap*

Another sound, from the opposite direction.

"We're surrounded. Elijah whispered softly, and stood up facing what seemed to be two groups of children, the same as them.

For a moment, curiosity overtook Elijah, as the groups seems stunned to find the others in this spot. Only when Reynsfarn broke the silence, did Elijah compose himself and respond as well. Some of them looked familiar, but in the dark light, illuminated only by the fire, Elijah could not be sure completely.

I agree. Who are you, are you with Tegtwiby?

[Worlok]

"Verily, Elf, I would not have noticed that if not for you." Reynsfarn whispered, no, hissed back at him, fixating the bounty of the hunting group - and the groups themselves, in that order - with a most greedy and frightening stare.

He gave fair warning, though, why am I hissing at him?

Because he's annoying.

And felt the need to point something out that my brilliant tactical mind had already ascertained that much earlier.

Yeah, sure, let's go with that.

'We're surrounded'. Seriously.

...

Being a duke means you never have to thank anyone or apologise, after all.

... right?

Of course. Dad said so, after all.

I kinda feel like doing it, though...

He will forgive me once I have won the day. Once more. They should have listened to me back there, anyhow!

The sewers... Instead of letting me handle the guards with my Wythernian silver tongue, they'd rather crawl through the dirt like commoners. Serves them right, is what it does.

...

But does it, now?

...

Yeah, it does! No time for that though, concentrate!

...

I'm -not- missing Adric. Nor anyone.

And certainly not that servant girl.

Ironic, actually. When in such a situation, one only noticed how dark it actually was once one realised that a new dawn was approaching fast. He had actually been up all night. To think that he might as well have been lying in his bed in Uncle Majesty's brightly-lit castle right this moment... or even back in Wyther, in his room, to stand up early at the first call of the crows and swagger through the hallways insisting the staff get up right this instant to make breakfast, only to then go right back to sleep and only wake up in the afternoon... or possibly even in some tavern at which the caravan that transported him when travelling from one of those locations to the other would make rest, staying up with the guards like a big boy and gathering... "jokes he was just too young and too sheltered to understand"...

Oh, snap out of it. Stop thinking about that, that's over now, and I will only get it back once back in Wyther. Which is where I'll make these people go. How thankful they will be once they are behind seven feet of stone and out of traitors' reach...

One never is.

Traitors are everywhere.

So are assassins.

Dad said so.

Good going snapping out of it. Murderers. Traitors. Spies. -That- is the problem at hand right now!

I just hope Elf leaves the talking to me. And Huntsman in the Wythers*, please let them not be assassins, now.

Spoiler

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* Huntsman in the Wythers, the: Traditional Wythernian nomenclature for the deity more commonly known (and not commonly worshipped) throughout the realm as... "Karaan".

[tuesdayscoming]

Sessaire is tired. Exhausted, even. The group she was with had forced a march since emerging from the horrid, dank tunnel leading out from the castle's kitchens. At first, she had not fully comprehended what was going on. No explanation had been afforded her at the palace – she was told to escape, effectively dragged into the kitchens, and forced to flee through that... that pit!

She had not understood. She couldn't have – a sheltered noble, trained for the intrigues of courtly life, she had no idea of the horrors of bloodshed and war. But when they had emerged from the passageway – when they had seen the fires and the bodies, smelled the blood and burning pitch in the air.... It had all been too much. She had broken down. Her face had drained of what little color it held; she had stared out on the destruction, and she had lost herself. Breaking down, weeping, she had sat there for she knew not how long, until the others had practically dragged her up, forcing her to continue on the way.

Now, caught unawares by these sets of newcomers, the adrenaline has brought her back to the moment. Breathe. Breathe. Just keep breathing. Submitting a silent prayer that they haven't been noticed yet, she folds out the thin needle on the ornate silver ring she wears around the finger of her right hand.

Breathe.

But then she recognized one of the bloodied boys. He looked worse for the wear, but there was no doubt. This was the one who had performed so well at the tourney only days before. Oh, how she had cheered for him...

A lifetime ago... The boy who had bested him, was he still alive? She wondered...

She takes a step into the clearing. The girl is so skinny. So frail, it seems like a strong gust of wind might blow her over. But she calls out, and her voice is calm, firm, somehow more confident than she herself feels. "Lord Elijah! I am so relieved you are well!"

The girl's blonde hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, tied back with a braid of red-stained leather. She wears an elegant green dress – not having had time to change in the heat of the escape. She looks every bit a noble child – save for the crossbow on her back and the dagger at her belt, which she wears awkwardly. This child, it is clear, is no warrior.

Just noticing those with him, she gives a shallow curtsy. She catches herself, and blushes almost imperceptibly. "I am Sessaire Telaen. My mother and I came to attend Lord Tegtwiby's celebration. Pray, have you any news from the palace?"

[Erik Vale]

Morn was surprised.
She was surprised that she was surprised.
But then, these were children not her hunters.
Royalty?
Well, yes or no, she was already on her horse.
Just as long as she doesn't have to say that word again, her throught was getting sore.
And there was no need to remove her weapon from its slot, hopefully it wouldn't come down to this.

A moment had passed feeling like eternity before she realised no one from her group spoke.
'Why Am I not surprised I am the most aware of us? That's right, not using myself as much...'

When Morn spoke, her voice rung clear, if with a rough undercut.

"I am Morn Brightsheen of the Brightsheen line, those blessed with the eternal pressence of she- A name comes out in Draconic followed by a few short titles, deep and grutal. "- We simply seek rest. As for Tegtwiby, no...."

She, like the others in the party had fled durring an attempted capture when comming back in... To say they knew to little was an understatement, they only could recognise the garb of some of the guards that tried, and then, thats assuming they had worn their own colours.

"I take it he is the one who has caused... This."
If words could be bottled, the last word would have been then sold for gasseous spite.
She then turns to her companions, she would let them utter their own names. She had done most of what was needed, and her throat... 'Damn... Don't cry, hold your bearing girl.'

[Worlok]

Having not been adressed by name, and hence obviously not recognised, all in accordance with his perfect plan of course, Reynsfarn chose to ignore Elijah being adressed before himself. For once. But another whisper to the side sure was in order, he presumed: "Careful now, elf and... kid. This could be anyone. We don't have news, they can't rest here unless they give me a good reason to allow it, and they could have Skaloonie*-knows-what kind of plans. It is important to have a cunning and diplomatic mind handle this - and as such, you will leave the talking to me." And without giving his companions the time to respond on his own, he spoke up, a little more insistently this time around: "Why should we trust you, Miss Brightsheen and Miss... you-over-there, to mean your words, and to have spoken truth? These are difficult times, you see."

And with that, he pulled the knife halfway out, slowly looking about the assembled, surrounding groups and pressing his back against Elijah's side in an effort to have his back protected.

Daddy says elves never come from behind with -knives-. I still don't get why he had to laugh so hard about strategic intel like that. And this one could have killed me now, already, once or twice. Probably trying to win my trust. Maybe deserves it, though. Should stay alert. For now, use means at hand. Vigilance. Countenance. Threat. And, naturally, a whisper again: "Any of you two know these people, though, men?"

Spoiler

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* Skaloonie: The hag-godess Cegilune goes by this name in parts of the kingdom's West (the variation "Saggy Loona" being equally common, but considered even less polite), and is commonly understood to be a particularly vicious trickster deity that demands at least a measure of respect even where she is not revered, with her honorifics including such titles as "Mother of Schemes", "Black Bitch of Trickery" (a title, in turn, often used by rebellious elements to refer to Brulthan's Queen from Endar-ha herself) and "She Who Knows". Hags, as a race and whole, are likewise often referred to as "Skaloonie's Maiden Host" in folk- and fairy tales, which are most of what still remains of Old Wyther's druidic faiths.

[Erik Vale]

"What, need proof we won't kill you now when we could already? That we tell the truth? We're still in hunting clothes for the sake of Glathar, and our horses-"

Spoilt brat. I'll prove it, and...
Humans, proof that spite wasn't restricted to dragons. And that they could use reason for all sort of nasty things.

"I will prove I am who I say, safely, then you can prove yourself. Hold up a rock."

[JelloCat]

"Put the knife away kid, hardly look like you could lift it let alone take on a couple of us who actually know which end to hold. We won't hurt ya and I don't think you're gonna hurt us, not scared pissless like you all seem to be. I don't know what's goin' on but why don't we sit down an' you fill us in hmm?"

Giving a short whistle to the hunting dogs at his side the tall boy walks into the clearing and sits down by the fire.

"My name is Andal by the way."

[Virtue]

"..."

Elijah knew he had seen the young girl before. She and her noble family had once visited them at his home, near the elven lands. It would make sense that she would be among the royals at court. But how had she escaped?

With these others?

Elijah could not place the other children so readily, though from an assortment of clothing here or there, he could guess that everyone was among the future generations of royalty.

The young half-elf had been about to respond, when another of the newcomers spoke up, mentioning her title and that they were not with Tegtwiby.

Having already been betrayed once, Aelijah was less than eager to trust newcomers, be they children or not.

And then Reynsfarn happened again.

Elijah chose to ignore the less-than-accurate label of his race. If only he truly were an elf, he would have not had to deal with this.

But still, he subsided. If Reynsfarn wanted to be their voice, than he would back down and allow it. For the moment, at least.

It was not until the newcomers challenged Reynsfarn, did Elijah himself feel threatened. Newcomers or not, Reynsfarn was part of his group, and though he may not be the most diplomatic of sorts, he would stand behind him, before letting these newcomers challenge them.

Whispering to Reynsfarn. "I only recognize one or two. Noble children, perhaps of most. In similar situations as us, yet we should be wary."

Turning to the other groups, Elijah spoke louder.

"Please, we can settle this without weapons or ...rocks. You must understand that given our current situation, we are hesitant to so easily trust strangers."

Elijah glanced over to the young girl who had addressed him before.

"Even with those we have known before. We have been betrayed this day, by those we have trusted. In more sense than the word. This is our campfire, and you are the ones who have come here. It would prove considerate that you would answer to us, first."

With that, Elijah bowed slightly, his hand gripping harder on his greatsword.

[Erik Vale]

Morn nodded. Reason was comming back. She wouldn't be so rude as Andal, and she understood their fear.
She had had fear hammering through her for a while.

"I... I understand. I knew not till now who caused this, and I can tell you that my family wouldn't have been apart of this, and neither have I... I cannot prove to you that I mean you no harm other than to offer you my presence in a non threatening way, but as proof of myself."

Morn reached to her left hand, looked down, and removed her signet ring.
She then threw it to the Elijah. It was the signit ring all Brightsheen's wore, but it was only used as a proof in truth as to prove acknowledgement, or in letters.

"Permission to aproach."

Spoiler

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Those with Knowledge: Royalty, History, Local or those whose characters are more on the outs or attention paying, know that the Brightsheen family are a somewhat low ranked but ambitious family, with draconic features due to a recent interbreeding with blue dragons. It is known that some members have sorcerous powers, both identicle and different to a sorcerer, and it is rummered that all do.

[Snowfire]

Elaine brushes back the hood of her cloak, allowing black hair to fall around her heart shaped face. "Whoever is behind the betrayal - be it Tegtwiby or any other - I know I am not with them. And neither is my family." She drops easily from the saddle, pulling a waterskin from one of the saddlebags. Unstoppering it, she takes a swift sip, swallows, and then replaces the stopper.

"I am Elaine Sorcha, next Sword of my House." She says calmly, golden eyes glinting in the rising dawn. "If you were forced to escape from the palace itself, then you must be thirsty. A name for water, would be fair, yes?" She tosses the waterskin to the already named Lord Elijah. "Who are your companions, my lord?"

[Worlok]

"Truly, el... ijah, I should agree. Let us proceed with cautious care." Reynsfarn whispered back - Name recognition, bothering with remembering such, raises morale, helps loyalty, will pay off once it's us against them - and made a number of decisions.

Deal: Name for water. Am thirsty. Sounds worthwhile enough, and she -did- drink from it herself. Should thus allow, for now.

"Alright, Miss Sorcha. You might come over here. Slowly, mind. Be our guest-of-camp."

Detail: Likely blue dragonspawn. Sorcerous. May not trust, but might keep in control by pretense. Could well be useful later on.

"And you, Miss Brightsheen, permission granted, and I must apologise. Had I seen your signet ring earlier, I would not have reacted in the way I did. My companion with the greatsword has the right of it, however, and I bid you to not take it personally that I did. No need for anyone to cast the first stone, here."

Last point of order, insult: Ignoring my orders, approaching without permission, belittling the future Wythernian duke - if unwittingly - in a crass display of perceived entitlement. Should keep an eye on him, better establish some superiority.

Don't do anything stupid now. He might just be provoking us to get my name and take a strike at me.

So what? The laws of hospitality apply. This is my campfire. If I let these people stay, they will also have to defend me from here on out. He won't move against all of them.

Yeah, but assassins don't typically... do hospitality. Besides, a trained murderer against a bunch of kids?

Means he'll be carving flesh up while I run. And he did insult me, at any rate. I can't let that stand!

But...

STAND!

Alright. Alright, do what you gotta do then. Idiot.

No, seriously. Watch me scare my respect right out of him.

You mean -into- him.

Focus, now.

"Yet as for you... Your name will have been Andal, if it truly is, and should you ever dare to act like that again! Know that you are not welcome, and that you are talking to Reynsfarn of Wyther, future duke of the Borderhold and-" A realisation dawned, much like the sun beyond, and he, in turn, did now present his signet ring, the duchy's heraldry inscribed in gold. "- with affairs of the royal house as they are, most likely your future king! I will not suffer your disobedience, and that meat your group is carrying will be the only fee I shall accept to allow your stay. Is this understood? Lest you accept these terms, do back away." The knife slipped out as he stalked away from Elijah and closer toward this respectless, fire-squatting lout, gleaming in the splendor of the flames. "For after all, no dog would save you from the blade of a Wythernian knife, and know that not only am I... holding it right, but that we are, in fact, quite good at... putting these away. With great precision and at range... I take it that you catch my drift?" That, topped off with the tried-and-true charm of the Reynsfarn grin, should likely do some frightening, alright. "I really hope you do, you see, I'd rather not have you... I mean -this-... end in violence. Not out of mercy, but simply because I'm the better man. So do choose your answer well."

[JelloCat]

"Look, like I said we won't hurt ya. We were attacked same as you by the looks of it," as he glances around the group Andal makes sure to make eye contact with everyone who is looking his way.

Looking back to the boy with the knife he gives a predatory grin, showing his teeth, "Reynsfarn was it? Can't speak for my friends but I won't be playin' any o' these court games neither. We'll pay no fee for sittin down with you. We will however share our meat if you share your fire, none of us are in a condition to be headin' off on our own right now, you included."

Without getting up he flashes that grin one more time, "Won't be no King if you die in the night cause you ran off the only help you was likely t' find."

[Snowfire]

"Peace, Reynsfarn." Elaine's voice cuts through the rising tension as she positions herself between the two boys, one hand drawing from her belt an elegant hand harp.

"A better man would not threaten his peers. That is the manner of a tyrant, nothing more." Her eyes, now hard, flick to meet his. Then they shift back to Andal. "Andal is one of us." His branch a bit different but that scarcely matters now she adds silently. "If Tegtwiby has cleaned house here as cleanly as he did Rews', then we all must survive - if for no other reason than to bring him to justice. Surely not all will have fallen to his betrayal, there are those who did not make the Palace for the celebration. For varying reasons perhaps, but safety and succor is still safety and succor - regardless of source."

Spoiler

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Those with ranks in Knowledge Religion or Nobility will know the Sorcha family reputation as...well...do-gooders. Surprisingly effective ones too, considering how naive they can sometimes act. Acting to betray a fellow isn't a concept that exists in their universe.

Swords - like what Elaine introduced herself as - are those who are touched by the light in a more concrete manner than the rest of the family and from that light draw forth a power unlike any other. The reasons for the birth of these 'Swords' into the Sorcha family are unknown - as is the reason behind their unswerving morality - however there are rumours (3-4 ranks needed for this I think would be fair, or 2 ranks in Knowledge Planes) that at some point in the family's past their blood was imbued with the latent power of the angels. And that that is the power behind the Sword's strength.

[Virtue]

"In this matter of peace, I must agree. However, please if you will Sir Andal, you must temper your own response, if it is your wish for us to temper ours. This day we have been attacked by an army that had once been on our side, we have been bloodied and scattered to the winds, have seen multiple deaths of our comrades, have seen the prince and princess lost to the world, and have been forced from the security we knew to a campfire on the edge of dangerous times. Perhaps you yourself, may not claim to the titles of court, but at the moment, it may be all that is left to preserve the sanctity of what's left of our empire, our home."

Elijah pauses for a moment to catch his breath before speaking again.

"And please, refrain from addressing me as Lord. It is not a title I have ever earned, nor one I could inherit due to my lineage. Simply, Elijah will do. If you all are of good mind and character, then as Reynsfarn said, you may share our fire, and we would in turn ask for some food and protection in return. Our own rations having been lost or consumed in our escape."

The young half-elf sat back down again and sighed softly.

[Worlok]

Threaten me, huh? Oh, Andal, what fun we'll have with you...

Sorchal raises a good point, though. There's safety in numbers, and all.

Can't take her seriously, though. Daddy always says they're only oh-so-peaceful and nice all the time because those ain't -their- soldiers dying to hold Pao'e at bay.

Yeah, but the pows ain't here, and neither are our soldiers. Let's play along.

Then again, tyrants -are- better men if I am one, really. The best kind, in fact, just look at me.

...

Stop that, now.

"You are right, Miss Sorcha... May I say 'Elaine'? We're in this together. Regardless of birth, name, or whether we're cowardly wood-dwelling brutes or not." That last one went with a superior, affected grin at guess-who. "What you just witnessed was merely a test. A test of character, as a matter of fact. You passed. Now, say thanks to her like a good boy, dog-bringer, and let's eat." While he had to debate the merits of turning away and just sitting down, he figured he'd stare into Andal's face, grinningly, for as long as it would take the other to stop meeting his glare. And then turn away and sit down and eat.

Pride over hunger, like a duke!

Speaking of, by the way...

"And it is true that some of the royalty yet remain. Hence why I had initially suggested setting course for the duchy itself, where the Borderhold will shelter us. Eventually. It's quite a bit of distance between here and there."

[tuesdayscoming]

Through the ups and downs of the interchange, Sessaire stands at the opposite edge of the camp, eyeing the action warily. The emergence of the hunting party – armed, horsed, and bearing dogs, of all things – had been alarming, and she had almost thought to run, for fear that Tegtwiby's men had set upon the camp.

But as she listens, she is pleased to find that these newcomers seem rather to be voices of reason... at least when compared to the needlessly biting words of the one calling himself Reynsfarn.

Her caution waning, she slips her hands behind her back and surreptitiously folds the needle back into the ring.

As the conversation comes to talk of sharing a fire, Sessaire both feels and hears her stomach rumble. How long has it been? She takes a step forward.

"I'm afraid that we have no promise of spoils to share by fire's edge. And yet I would ask, might we, too, share your fire for a time? We've nowhere else to go, no place to rest, and no smiling face to turn to in all of this. And I fear that this is a plight we might all share. At the very least," she beams a perfect smile, glancing to each of the others,"we might benefit from each other's knowledge of the events at the palace. Please, for whatever love our families might have born, might we sit with you for a time?"

[Worlok]

Without backing down from the stare-off with Andal, and hence missing her fetching smile, Reynsfarn felt like being lenient just there: "Yeah. Sure. Of course you may. But as you do not bring a lot into the fold, yourselves, I'd say my two comrades here and I get first pick of the good stuff, the hunters second pick, as they surely have already helped themselves some here and there, then come you, and what's left goes to the... dog. Sound fair?" Not like I really care. Makes me sound "harsh but just" or something, though, I guess. That is always good. Even allowing them in with what little we have is already a massive favor, here, after all. And they can start their own damn fire and then try surviving on their lonesome if they still must bitch and moan. I -really- was born for leadership.

[JelloCat]

Getting up with a grunt, Andal walks over to his companions and grabs one of the carcasses from their hunt.

Snorting at the insult directed his way he drags it back and begins cleaning the meat to be cooked, ignoring the loud mouthed "duke".

[Erik Vale]

Morn laughs, she hadn't expected to, but she did. Loud and long.
And painful, but that was beside the point.

"Self intitled much? Well Reynsfarn , you can have first choice from the days waiting and dirt smeered rabbits and other bits of meat we have collected. My father was always one to say 'overprepare, and you will survive a suprise', and I am overprepared. The food that make up my trail rations will be better, and I will be happy to share with the other newcommers. Any information we can get will be a... Huge help."

Well, someone needs to knock some wind out of him. And Morn was happy to.

As she approached she dismounted, and recolected her signet ring, the tell-tale blue tinge to her skin was present, she was no imposter at least.

[Worlok]

To see him toil, as befits his lot... To see him wordlessly and worthlessly turn tail... What is this taste? Must be sweetest victory! Already feeling a whole lot better about himself after his outburst of nauseating clemency back there, Reynsfarn turned towards the group at large, his smirk making way for a less intimidating smile, as he drew in the sensation of having just more or less established his undeniable - and natural - authority over this merry band. "In case any of you have questions, Elijah here will be my second-in-command from here on out. Further functions and hierarchy will be determined as time goes on. And as concerns your trail rations, Miss Brightsheen... provided we will see sufficient sense of countenance from you to approach this matter with the appropriate earnesty... 'the good stuff' does include 'better stuff', and I had made myself clear about that. You will leave those rations of yours to my comrade's supervision, and we determine who gets what pieces, there. All... due respect, but to withhold possessions from the personnel of royalty is technically embezzlement, after all, and I won't have the ranks of this realm's noble blood fall to the lows of common banditry." A chuckle. He would not have any trouble getting used to this. Notice me styling on them all smart-like, though. I am -so- a trueborn duke! "All the more since I already afforded you the privilege of sharing in the warmth of this here fireplace, and your unnecessary disrespect does not make me feel any better about that choice. Now, let me be the better man - again - and just forget about this incident. You need aforementioned warmth, after all, seeing how you are already quite... blue in the face."

And with that, it was his turn to laugh a bit, if of course not as loudly and more in a manner befitting royalty. Mess with the best, that is me, and he'll put you down. In your place. Let's see whether she'll turn -purple- now.

[JelloCat]

"This isn't the bleedin' court anymore you fool! There is no hierarchy! There is no royalty!" Stabbing his knife into the ground and standing up Andal turns toward Reynsfarn fuming, "If what it sounds like has happened, has actually happened we need friends. You need friends. You are not making friends."

[Erik Vale]

Morn shakes her head, agreeing mentally with Andal.
"Oh calm down and leave him a moment to be self entitled before he notices. It might take a day by I have always found ignoring people of the inner court to be the easiest method, especially when they find they need you."

And true to what she has just said, for the moment, she doesn't beother responding to the 'duke to be'. She does however ask Andal a question.

"However as to food, our meats will need to be cooked and cleaned, or have the dirtier bits... excercised from the rest. Might I borrow your knife... I've never actually lived in the wild, but it couldn't be to hard to cook a couple of rabbits with a spit, if we could find sticks good enough to make one over the fire, however I doupt we will be able to preserve it as well as trail rations..."

And then, taking a moment, she turns to the person she has decided to be most... rational of the group that started the fire. This person was Elijah.

"Elijah... As much as I am a 'Sheen, I have never much been one to live in the noble circles. I understand that nobility isn't everything, and it looks like your realising that or have realised that. Would you mind if we shared you fire, we can bring resources, and they might be able to bring a litle more news. And then, there is safety in numbers."

[JelloCat]

"I guess you're right."

Turning away from the boy Andal walks back to the fire and pulls his knife out of the ground where he stuck it. Handing it Morn he turns back to the fire.

"Once we cook the meat we can dry any of it we don't eat. That way it'll last for quite a while."

[Worlok]

And there he's doing it -again-! With the abomination backing him, at that. Why, I think they haven't been put into place quite enough of yet. I shall not have such -disrespect-! Concentrating a great deal to remain calm, Reynsfarn merely raised an eyebrow there, speaking in a voice as pointedly calm as it sounded dangerous. "Now, now, now... What an... interesting sentiment. This is no court. In that, at least, you're right. You speak of things to last, of preparation, yet you would endanger our very survival for your own vanity. What a... most noble trait of soul." Folding his arms behind his back and puffing his chest out ever so slightly, he then made to pace towards Andal, looking him straight in the eyes like some feral beast ambushing prey, and surrounding him to that end as he turned away.

"Per chance, you haven't yet understood. And I certainly wouldn't expect someone who would rather take to the woods than attend to his duties as royalty - if you are, in fact, one of us, which I must admit seems a dubious claim at best - to understand. Yet I am afraid that it is not I who should, no, must be called a fool in this affair."

Making an effective pause, or so he hoped, the future duke-king-master-of-the-hierarchy took his time with this. Project control. He's not worth an answer, but -they- do need this display. And I -am- in charge. Give it your all, I'm good with words, if little else, after all. This is some big-word-case, and I do know big words. "What you believe has happened has, in fact, occured. Our prince, our princess, perhaps our very king... lie dead." Here's hoping for some gasps, I sure spoke loud enough. "My cousins, and your future king among them, their mother my mother's sister and their father as a brother to my own, are of this world... no more. So do not, for one second, presume that your grasp of this situation exceeds my own, or that any of it has hit you harder than me. I am aware that this is no court, for were it one, the world would still be in order, and we would not even be having this... 'conversation' now."

And yes, there was some genuine anger resounding now, the tell-tale tuft of hair of Wyther popping up above his brow. "Yet the world is no longer in order, and I cannot be the only one who is given to wondering why. As in, how, why has this... catastrophe occured, and in so violent a way as this? Yes. Why indeed. Yet again, how would you know, or comprehend? This is a matter of royalty, after all." Dramatic pause, volume two.

Let that sink in again, for me -
rebellious rabble though you be.

"It has happened because one of the common ranks, a soldier, a glorified grunt, whom some have called a hero once... forgot his place. It has happened because one man's ambition to topple this natural, and this holymost hierarchy that is the rule of kings was successful for ourselves once letting his... freak perversion get out of hand. For our celebrations in his name. And for allowing the undeserving-of-trust within our halls." An affected sigh, and a shrug. "Now, you have proven yourself one of a terribly little and narrow mind. Incapable of even basic interaction, you claimed for yourself the rights that would, by rights, have been but mine to grant. So, once again, I can not expect you to understand." He was close now, just beyond arm's reach. Just far enough away to not yet make the size difference all that obvious. "But even you, who you presume yourself a hunter, or so I was led to believe, should possess the perceptive acumen to process this most basic of truths: Even beyond courts, there must be hierarchy! Even without a king, nobility! There must be order, if there shall be life! Some are destined to rule! And some, the majority, to be ruled! And it has always been this way. The very thought that such should change, the idea of one man rising above the entitlements of his station by any manner of achievement, or the loyalty of the good friends those we now call traitors must be to him, is what empowered, emboldened Tegtwiby!" And that's precisely what I think you are, Andal. His spawn, in mind if not in blood, and revolutionary scum. "It is not for myself that I deign to assume control. It is for your own good benefit. I bid you see it for yourself: What would we be, where could we go, if not for one to lead the way? It means me no enjoyment to command. It is my duty as the heir to, and lone rightful owner of the throne. This may not be a court, but it's the REALM! And as such, I would recommend none of you forget their places, lest they be put into them by force. The fall of the mighty is always the time of the vulture. And scavengers, pilferers, is what you would become by opposing me, who I mean so well with you. See there the corpse-eaters carving up the dead carcass in front of them, exchanging pleasantries in sweet unity..."

One last pause. "See here proud Brightsheen biting the hand that was feeding her, extended in friendship bar prejudice of any kind. And already, she's making it clear that in character, she is every bit the serpent with which her forebears lay. No, Andal, Morn, this will not do. To restore the rightful order is our quest, our duty, as I understand these terms. And you should be aware that I'm trying here!" Were those tears? They sure felt like them. One, two, welling up at the corners of his eyes. Just as planned. The art is to cry on command. "For all of you. But you meet my... leniency... with ingratitude. And have in your hearts long become traitors the likes of Tegtwiby. Saddening, it truly is, to me. Friends. You speak of friends to me. I would not call a traitor knave a friend when I so clearly know and see the enemy!" Extending his arms, and adressing them all, he ventured on: "So choose. If this kingdom, this people, the love which your families heretoforth held, still mean a thing to you, do not let the tragedy, grave as it is, cloud your minds. Understand that I volunteer to do the chores noone else would do, and nothing else. And that I do mean well. That I will see you through, for such is the calling of trueborn royalty. If you would still question me, challenge my authority, take this convenient chance to increase the mere commercial value of the titles that you claim by such... self-righteous REGICIDE... Then go ahead. But Andal, Andal, other than the serpent traitoress... you surely aren't. making. any. friends." And spitting onto the ground before the bastard's feet, he ruffled his cape, tipped his nonexistent hat, and turned to leave. "All here who still know loyalty, follow me. We have come until here, we can go on on our very own. Leave the fire to them, per chance it will claim their black hearts in their sleep. A good night to all that would choose to be left behind."

And thus, he strapped on his backpack more tightly than it had sat before, and wandered towards the forest front. Let's see whom they will follow. Wyther shall not stray from our destiny, and I will not forego my claim of royalty. This 'Andal' is an assassin, a blackguard, if nothing else. Yet if they want to lay with the uppity, let them. They will know the revenge of -KING REYNSFARN I.-, whom I agree should be called the Just, if they do.

And boy, I sure know 'em big words, alright.

[Erik Vale]

Morn is obviously trying very hard to keep her composure throughout the speech, and, true to Reynsfarn's thoughts, she actually can turn purple, her cheacks do a little... They also turn a pale blue at the mention of the death of the crown prince and princess, as well as the probable death of the king.

But her heart boiled with rage near the end of his speach, 'How dare he.' ringing through her head, for reasons varying slightly and all a little childish.
And then he walked.
As far as she was concerned, she would be able to make it on her own, at the moment at least, and she didn't care who walked. She did however, vent her rage in one of the... better ways available.

With a tightly bound word of dark speech, dripping with arcane bindings, all of this unknown to her other than that it worked, a largish barkchip exploded into a puff of powder, scattering some of the nearby chips.

When she spoke, it was in a rough whisper, mostly born of a dieing voice.

"None should improve their station... I doupt you could purify anything to create the stupidity of those words. That we should all be ruled or that I play at politics here... scrapling."
The last words are said with a very honest sneer, as she moves to her sadlebags, straight past the peices of meat in need of working.
She needed water. And wanted something better tasting than what would probably be burned rabit.

[Snowfire]

Elaine blinked at Reynsfarn's monologue of spite and twisting words, the same golden eyes flying wide as the confirmations of the death of the King - and his immediate heirs - filtered through. But even with that, even then...

"That is quite enough." She said finally, crossing the space between her and the 'Duke' with a few quick strides. She yanked him around, using the backpack to aid her leverage, and delivered a sharp slap to the petulant boy's face.

"You are not the only one who will have lost much today, Reynsfarn of Wyther. And it would suit one of your stature better if you acted such. Far more importantly, we need each other. It matters not that there might be disagreements or differing opinions amongst us - all that can be brought to compromise in time - but that we stick together. Because you won't get home ahead of Reynsfarn's men acting like you are right now." She shook her head, stepping back a pace, and the harp in her hand twisted - light shimmering around it as it lengthened smoothly into a bow almost as tall as Elaine herself.

"You say that you have been 'lenient'. You have been lenient only in so much as a tyrant is lenient. And a tyrant is not what will win this kingdom back." She hesitated for a brief moment, considering if the card was a worthy one to play.
Hell, it can't make the situation much worse.

"You are not the only heir to a duchy. Not in the Kingdom - not even among this group. So cease your posturing, or by the light I breathe I will make you, if only for long enough for us to have reasonable introductions."

Spoiler

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Apologies if any of this is railroading here, if there are objections please tell me and I'll change things.

[al'Lan Mandrag]

Kallen was cold, cold and exhausted, so much so that when he'd joined up with that girl who smelled as though she'd been through a cess pit (and looked like it to boot) he'd only mumbled a greeting and fallen into step. The arguements between the others had largely passed him by, but as he began to take notice of them, and recognised more and more as hailing from the branches of nobility he ventured to ask:
"Has anyone seen the prince? It was madness in there but I'm sure we'd know if he had been taken."

Spoiler

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I'm under the impression that Rising Phoenix was the Prince, so with him and and his sister possibly dead who's next in line? (I assume Kallen can't inherit as he's illegitimate). Anyone else related to the royal line and thus related to Kallen?

[Virtue]

"...stop. Everyone. It has been too long of a night to argue at this point. It will be daybreak soon, and though some of us still are tired, we may have to move soon already. Tegtwiby and his armies will not hesitate to investigate smoke from the trees, in the light of dawn."

Elijah sighs softly, but stands again beside Reynsfarn.

"If indeed we are all allies here, we will table all discussions of royalty for another time, as it seems there are multiple opinions here. Though my opinion is allied with Reynsfarn, it is simply the one I wield, due to respecting the Dynasty I find home in. However, I understand that in every kingdom there will be dissension. There is safety in numbers however, and if we are to arrive to the safety of anyone's crest, then we must work together."

Elijah paused to look to every one of the assembled children.

"The princess was slain, and the prince as well, for what we believe. We need a plan. Our original task was to head far south, to the islands where our Queen once called home. There we would have sought shelter and protection. We will still have to pass through much land to reach them. If anyone has a more proficient alternative to this path however, now would be the time to voice. However, understand that it is one of my duties now, to ensure that something of the royal line is still saved, and in that direct succession is Reynsfarn. So, I ask you all please to not start flames that could become wildfire."

And with that Elijah bows respectfully to the assembled newcomers, and hefts his sword to his shoulder to balance it.