Medieval Fantasy: Rise of the Free Companies

[Raz_Fox]

Morrigan

Morrigan, a bit winded from the run, found a bit of ground out of the way to sit down for a piece, relatively dry at that. He had a little silver in his pocket, but not much. Still, he had his ways of earning money. Catching his breath for a moment, he caught sight of Raxila and sauntered over to her, a sly grin on his face.

By my father's beard, I'd never thought I'd see one o' your folk in tha flesh, much less out o' the home country. Still, yer folk are supposed to be fierce enough in a fight, so I suppose this is as likely a place as any fer ye ta be.

"Aye, highlunder - Morrigan, hyu saeed you name vas? Hyu're a lucky vun, sure enough. It's nize to see zumone vo recognizes vat Hy em, und nizer schtill to see a Rhodok-bred lad. Not gunna schtrike me down for beink a fey vitch, are ye?"

She gives him a sharp grin and winks. Then she gestures over to the ivy-coated tent.

"Mortal ale iz piss-veak, but it's betta ten noddink. Hyu veesh to go hef a drink or tree?"

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan gave a hearty laugh, picking up his kit and following the fae into the tent, nodding Aye, most of it's nae good fer anything but spillin' in a bar fight, but enough of it'll get ye drunk, though ye may have ta' drown in it first. Me Gram made a foine enough drop, though. Good strong Highland whiskey. One o' the things I miss most out a' home.

He sighed, then grinned even wider, his eyes sparkling

Yer' not fer plannin te work some mischief on me now, are ye? Me own dear mother always warned me about fae lasses and the enchantments they work on strappin' young lads in their cups. They do say more 'n one fella's woken up from such an encounter in tha altogether, missin' all o' their earthly goods and with a beard down to their belly, an' with none o' the pleasant memories that make such a wakin' worth while.

[Raz_Fox]

"Sadly, de only magic Hy hef plenty uf iz de herbcraft. Hy kould make hyu go to schleep for a day or so, but not a hundred years. Dat's real power, und Hy hef as much chance uf seeink dat as most folk hef uf seeink a fey. Hyu'd need a sorceress or, Bane forbeed, a dragon for dat kinda vitchcraft.

Und as for you mamma's viskey, Hy'd giff hennyddink to hef zum nize Rhodok viskey right now. If hyu mention it again viddout hevink henny in you possession, Hy'll hef to hit hyu.

Kome on, let's go see vat drinks dey's got."

And with that, Raxila strides off towards the ivy-covered tent, one arm across Morrigan's shoulders.

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

One habit that the road has taught him is to always be aware of his surroundings. Upon reaching the camp he moves casually through the camp, taking a mental inventory of items of value, looking for possible escape roots and scanning the men's faces.

[Snacs]

Olin Scott

Puffing out a long, relieved burst of air Olin gratefully crossed the last few feet into the company's massive encampment. The distance itself had not phased him too much, his lean frame able to keep up an easy, loping gait that ate up the miles. It had been the pace that the elder mercenaries had set that was grueling, and he arrived with the others eager to roll up in his cloak and sleep.

He felt a soft along trickle along his lower back, like ice water and chuckled softly to himself as he felt something small and wet nuzzled at his neck. he glanced around, seeing no one paying particular attention to him, and reached up, giving the small sprite clinging to a lock of his hair a quick pat.

The tiny creature was roughly humanoid, though it was translucent, its coloring that of half-frozen water. It had wide,deep eyes, no nose, and a small slit for a mouth, and from the top of its head water flowed out and down its back.

It was the first ever spirit he had bonded with, the tiny, half-frozen sprite that had made its home in his family's well. It wasn't particularly smart, or strong, but it was important to him, and he never wanted for water with it.

He smiled as it capered about his shoulders, peering around the camp with interest, and he glanced around with eyes he knew few, if any in the camp, possessed.

The camp was bustling,and in between legs and lurking in the shadows of tents were Brownies and Sprites that made their lives on the outskirts of the mortal races. He saw the spirits of weapons peering at him around the hafts of halberds and the rims of shields, and their gleaming eyes in the burnished reflection of helms.

He shook his head, too tired to explore and get familiar with them. He was an Ironclad now. The times for that would be many. For now he had to find a tent to sleep in, and a bucket to slew off the grime from the trail.

He took his time sauntering through the tent camp, and smiled as he stopped at one, seemingly at random. He crouched down, seeing a bright,industrious Brownie at work brushing mud off of one of the tents. he reached to a pouch on his belt, and offered up a portion of one of his trial ration's to the knee-high spirit.

It was decided. He would stay at this tent. He looked up, wondering whose it was in the first place, and to ask if he could stay. If the Brownie that worked so earnestly were proof, he knew he wouldn't be turned away.


[OOC: Whoever wants to be said tent's owner, feel free, if not DM's choice or NPC will be fine(though I'd prefer a player)]

[Adlan]

Lordsmoothe, I'll play it as if you asked Ioan and Aeryn, makes the Rp tighter knit.

Ioan and Aeryn were pitching the last few pegs and ropes of the tent when up walked the lordly looking man with the fine quality gear from the march.

"Good day, fellow. Would you like some aid getting that pitched?"

Ioan turned to Aeryn, as if to say Room for three? and back to the knight.
'What can I do for you good sir? We're just about finished in pitching the tent.

[Krrth]

*looking up at the voice*

I'm sorry, what? I was jus...

*eyes narrow slightly, then go back to normal*

Greetings. I imagine you're looking for a tent to sleep in? It will be a tight fit, but you are more than welcome to join us. After all, we have to stick together, don't we.

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan laughed and winked broadly at the fey-lass, grinning as he laced his arm around her shoulder like they were old comrades Aye, that's well enough. I've nothin' against magic, such as it goes, but such things are better left to those 'as understan' em'. With one hand , Morrigan brushed aside the entrance to the tent, looking to see what the night would hold.

[Destichado]

"A silver denar to the first person who can unpack my horse and set up the tent!"

Heinrich discovered that his first person was a tall, buxom soldier's wife with a disconcertingly large knife hanging from her belt.
"Half a day's pay for setting up a tent?" she asked without the slightest trace of deference, "You've a deal, m'lord."

With that she yelled for her children and threw the tent bundle over her shoulder with ease. With them, she set the center pole and hung the tentcloth, while her boy and little girl worked together pulling the slack out of the guy-ropes and drove stakes The tent was set inside ten minutes, and the children ferried bundles, boxes and baskets from the sumpter horse while the mother pulled the ropes taut on their stakes.

"Shush, run on to Jovanna now," said the camp follower, shooing her children off. When they were gone she straightened up, business-like. "I'll have that denar now, m'lord."

***

"Good day, fellow. Would you like some aid getting that pitched?"

The young man turned and set down the basket he was carrying. On top was an antique peaked helmet marked with dozens of scars half polished away and a patch riveted to hold the nasal in place. Inside, a patchwork maille shirt. A horseman by the weapons and armor lying about, he was obviously gently born, and just as obviously poor. He coughed and worked his mouth before speaking.

"Petros Meryovic, sir," he said, touching a lock of his hair in greeting, and naming himself as a Vaegir. "Yes, if you are not too well born to do it, I would welcome the help."

***

Inside the tall tent marked with the ivy wreaths was a long table and low benches half-filled with men and women draining a mug. When they finished, most got up and walked out, leaving their wood or clay cups on the table to be snatched up by a girl young enough to run around with her hair uncovered. She quickly wiped them out with a wet rag and took them to a pegged cupboard at the far end.

A round-looking man of middle years puttered around the back of a wagon at the open far end of the tent, looking over barrels and amphorae. There was an open half-barrel of frothing mash with an oar sitting in it, which he occasionally stirred. Seeing Morrigan and Raxila at the entrance, he bustled across to his daughter and sent her scurrying to greet the new recruits and new customers with a halfhearted swat.

"If ye be come well, ye be well come, be ye welcome." The little girl recited the greeting from memory, without really understanding the meaning of the old wordplay.

"Beer is a quarterpenny a cup," she went on, "And soldiers have to add water on duty, and daddy-- umm, the brewmaster has other things in the wagon, but you have to ask him."

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrgain chuckled, reaching out and placing a penny in the girl's hand in thanks for the tip. Smiling, he approached the brewmaster, a glint in his eye. Evenin' friend. Me companion and meself have just been on a bit o' a stroll, and we've worked up a good thirst. Might ye be havin' anythin' in yer wagon a bit more potent than beer? Whiskey fer' a preference, and Rhodok if'n ye've got it.

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

After taking stock of the camp, he decided it was time to relax. No one would find him hear, at least not for awhile.

He had heard the soldiers mention the tent, one marked with ivory wreaths, as a place to stop for a drink.

"A drink would do quite well," he murmured to himself and headed back towards where he had seen the tent.

He entered in time to see a girl speaking to two of the new recruits he had seen before. The northerners, both seemed to be soldiers. The man had a plaited beard and the woman was an Orc, or at least looked like like the stories he had heard of Orcs, but less fierce. Perhaps the stories, like most stories, had been exaggerated, or perhaps the female of the species was just smaller and less fierce.

"Beer is a quarterpenny a cup," he heard the girl say, "And soldiers have to add water on duty, and daddy-- umm, the brewmaster has other things in the wagon, but you have to ask him."

[LongVin]

Heinrich

The Knight watches the woman and the pair of children go to work on unpacking and assembling. Intently he stared, partially amazed at how quickly they operated and also making sure that their greedy little fingers did not take anything that did not belong to them.

"I'll have that denar now, m'lord."

Heinrich nodded, he had no need to check the tent to make sure it was assembled properly. The trio had done this many times before and will no doubt do it hundreds of times again. Opening up the coin purse he produced a shiny silver denar piece and handed it over to the camp follower "A fine job. When the company is ready to pack up and move, I will look for you."

[Destichado]

"Evenin' friend. Me companion and meself have just been on a bit o' a stroll, and we've worked up a good thirst. Might ye be havin' anythin' in yer wagon a bit more potent than beer? Whiskey fer' a preference, and Rhodok if'n ye've got it."


The brewmaster blinked.

"I, I have a full case of jenever, and frozen cider that I get through local sources, and there is rakija from Reyvadin if you can stomach it, but," he eyed the new recruits speculatively, "forgive me, but I doubt you have the coin for Rhodok grappa."

He leaned closer and whispered urgently, "It would be a fourth your day's wage for a glass!" He wrung his hands in his apron in distress and said, apologetically, "It has to come half way across Calradia to get here, you understand. I can't just give it away."

The Brewmaster looked past the hulking rhodok and blinked again at the quiet man standing almost beside him.

"Oh! I didn't see you there. Forgive me, be seated, be seated. What can I get you? Beer?"

[Raz_Fox]

"Evenin' friend. Me companion and meself have just been on a bit o' a stroll, and we've worked up a good thirst. Might ye be havin' anythin' in yer wagon a bit more potent than beer? Whiskey fer' a preference, and Rhodok if'n ye've got it."


The brewmaster blinked.

"I, I have a full case of jenever, and frozen cider that I get through local sources, and there is rakija from Reyvadin if you can stomach it, but," he eyed the new recruits speculatively, "forgive me, but I doubt you have the coin for Rhodok grappa."

He leaned closer and whispered urgently, "It would be a fourth your day's wage for a glass!" He wrung his hands in his apron in distress and said, apologetically, "It has to come half way across Calradia to get here, you understand. I can't just give it away."

The Brewmaster looked past the hulking rhodok and blinked again at the quiet man standing almost beside him.

"Oh! I didn't see you there. Forgive me, be seated, be seated. What can I get you? Beer?"

Raxila gives him what must be a grin, for all of her fangs are showing. She pulls one of her hide bottles from her belt and gives it a shake.

"Vell, how about a trade? Hy'll pour hyu zum real Fey drink from my bottle here, und ifin it's to you likink hyu'll giff us zum Rhodok viskey - ve hefn' hed de true schtuff in ages! Chust be kareful - it's a bit schtrong."

She spots the quiet one, and yells in his general direction, "Hey, hyu! Qviet vun! Kome und join us - ve'll pay for you first drink."

[Destichado]

At that the Brewmaster rocked back on his heels, deciding whether or not to be insulted or intimidated. He scowled in thought, puffing his jowls, and snatched the leather costrel from Raxila's hand. Pulling the wooden stopper, he sniffed.

"Phew!" he exclaimed, eyes watering, and stoppered the leather bottle. He thrust it back at her. "Almost pure aqua vitae! I can't serve that! Take it to the apothecary, he might know what to do with spirits like that."

The brewmaster turned back to his mash, stirring the oar to keep sediment from forming. "Fey brew indeed," he muttered to himself.

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Making sure that everything was squared away properly in his tent, Heinrich wandered around the camp being sure to watch where he steps so as not to soil his boots.

Coming upon the tavern wagon, he decided it was as good as a time as any to get something to drink. Entering the makeshift tavern, he heads directly towards the bar and announces "Barkeep, I'll have a glass of Swadian wine."

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan grinned broadly, pulling out a deck of cards and a pair of dice from a small leather pouch on his belt. What say you to laying it on a turn of the die? If you win, I'll be givin' ya this he said, plucking a coin-pouch full of silver coins from his belt and setting it on the table. And if you win, I'll be gettin' the bottle?

[Destichado]

The Brewmaster looked hard at the dice and the bag of coins.

"No, no, I couldn't," he said. But he did not stop looking at the coins.
"Oh, chalice," he muttered. "Fine and well enough. One roll for each of us."

They cast their dice and the brewmaster moaned as if stricken.

"Curse me for a fool," he wailed. "Thirty denars lost on a roll of the dice! Take it, take it," he said, waiving the offending bottle. But before the Rhodok highlander could reach, the brewmaster snatched it back and took a burning drink himself before surrendering the bottle.

"Oh," he shook his head sadly and turned away. "When my wife hears of this..."

He pulled a wooden bung from the neck of an amphora and decanted thick red wine into a glazed ceramic goblet. His daughter served it to the knight, wide-eyed and staring at his finery.

[LongVin]

*****EDITED**** New post coming.

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan grinned gleefully, taking the bottle with good graces. Still smirking, he counted out fifteen silver Dinars, accounting for a good portion of his pouch. Somethin' fer yer trouble, me good man, and perhaps that'll keep yer wife from chewin' ya a new one altogether.

With that he turned, returning to the table and setting up shots for himself and Raxila, and offering one to the newcomer as well.

[LongVin]

Heinrich

About time, Heinrich nodded and pushed some coin towards the girl. Lifting the glass to his nose he inhaled the aroma before taking a tentative sip. It was hardly the wine that would be served in the Praven Royal Court but it wasn't horrible, he had worse and he had better, it would do though. Looking around the room, he raises his glass in toast to the others present as courtesy would dictate.

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

The bearded northern offers him a drink.

"Thank you my good man," he says. Luck must be on your side tonight. Let us toast that it stays that way eh."

[Townopolis]

Gaille

"Petros Meryovic, sir," he said, touching a lock of his hair in greeting, and naming himself as a Vaegir. "Yes, if you are not too well born to do it, I would welcome the help."

Gaille smiled cheerfully and bent slightly at the waist in a half-bow.

"Any man who thinks himself too high born to pitch a tent should have stayed at the manor. No, I'm a soldier now, just like you, and I can do an honest soldier's work just as anyone else. Now, you know a place where the mud won't soak through?"

Gaille scanned the camp for a good location, keeping up with Petros should the Vaegir have a place in mind, or pointing out and heading for a place of his own choosing.

"I am Gaille du Cote, of the order of St. Gird. If you're cavalry, as you look to be, stick with me and we'll see many successful campaigns."

When they find and come to a good spot to pitch the tent, Gaille seeks out a place to hang or place his saddlebags where they won't get covered with mud and sets about the pitching of the tent.

[Krrth]

Once we get this tent set, what do you say about going to the Ale House? It would give us a chance to meet some of our fellows.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila sniffs at her drink, savoring the scent and faintly grinning.

Then she gulps down the entire cup.

"Ho yah! Dis iz de goot schtuff, alright! Beautiful!"

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan matched her shot, then poured them each another, nodding in agreement Aye... there''s nothin' like a little taste o' home, particularly when yer' far from it.

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

He throws back his drink, gags and coughs. Through watering he says "Now I am starting to see what makes you northerners so tough." He places the cup down to be refilled.

[Adlan]

Once we get this tent set, what do you say about going to the Ale House? It would give us a chance to meet some of our fellows.
Said Aeryn, as the finished sorting everything out, doing their best to ensure no mud, or wet, would enter the tent.

'Suits me well enough, I could do with a drink, I'm half parched, what of you friend?
Ioan Asked, turning to the latest tent mate.

[Snacs]

Olin Scott

"I'd be delighted"he said quite politely as he straightened, brushing a few crumbs casually off his hands.

He raised an eyebrow at his other tent-mate curiously at that cryptic sentence, but only gave a small, easy smile.

"Indeed, now, let's celebrate. We are Ironclads now, are we not?" He gave a broad grin this time, nodding in agreement with Aeryn.

He trailed a step or two behind the pair, and gestured with his hand. Two small tattoos on his left forearm warmed, and two small imps appeared.

The left one was short and rotund, the dull color of canvas. As it breathed its whole body expanded and shrunk like a small bellows. It gave Olin a rakish, lazy salute, and trundled into the tent to get to work. By the time his new campfellows would stumble back drunk they'd find the air inside warm and comfortable.

The other was thin and a tad taller, though it still stood only a hand's height tall. It bowed like a Lord's manservant, its head wreathed in candle flames like an old man's balding dome. It started circling the tent in a clockwise motion, its feet heating the ground, drying it. No mud either.

It was a casual use of his powers, but his new friends were offering him a place to sleep.

It's the least I could do He told himself with a smile as he followed the pair towards the 'alehouse'.

[Krrth]

*glancing back at the tent*
I imagine it will be fine. I just hope neither of you snore.

*sighs, moves his hair just enough to show his ears for a moment*

I don't care for ale myself, but this will be a good chance for us to meet those we are going to be depending on for our lives....and for them to meet us.