Completed [The Kabrin Road] The Dark Messenger

[Marrick Corvis]

OOC : Now that we've had a round of posts. I'd like to establish a posting order After Radiant, Danough, Rodistair, I'll follow up. I'm leaving the thread as PM for now. Otherwise I'm loving it so far, lets keep it rolling. Winter 1st, 513AV Marrick felt sick from the random wobble of the cart as his cage swung too and fro. It had been a long morning and they had fallen into line with other travellers as they made their way. The wind had not let up much as their rickety cart had travelled the road. The endless sway left the little Kelvic wishing for some tea leaves, or something else to fill his empty stomach. Kimp had riden ahead early on in the morning and returned with news of the patrols. Marrick had watched Grun and Traull as they packed their more human looking cargo in with the rest of their goods. They had bound them and gagged them. Though in their haste, they had let him alone. The other poor souls in the cart were trapped beneath a mound of furs, Iron, and other chuck they intended to sell. For once, Marrick was grateful for being in Raven form for he would be hard pressed to hide the look of disgust on his face. The sun was high in the sky, yet the warmth still seemed to sap from the little Kelvic. Even though he was fluffed out as far as he could manage, he still could feel a certain painful ache from the cold. Marrick was just about to try and shut his eyes and sleep away a portion of his nightmarish day, when he was rousted by a stir in the air. He could almost feel the unmistakable drum of a large troop of shod horses, before he heard it. It was a soft rumble in the chest, almost like the very air was being shaken by thunder. He unruffled his feathers and craned his little neck to try and see where it was coming from. Kimp rode ahead of a large column of knights, a look of terror on his cowardly and sadistic face. Seeing the thief in such an uncomfortable position secretly delighted the Kelvic. These men, if such a term could be applied to his captors, deserved to get caught. As the thief brought his brown Destrier in along-side the cart he whispered words of warning to the slaver. “Eight men all on horseback.” Kimp said hurriedly as he eyed the oncoming soldiers. “Say the word and I’ll lead them away.” With that the thief parted and headed to the back of their caravan. Marrick made note that Kimp had strung his bow, and an arrow waited against the hand notch. The little raven hopped about on his perch looking for Grun. He needed to know where that big cruel oaf was lurking. He was a real danger to anyone coming close to the wagon. That was when he spotted him following the wagon on his swaybacked old Pinto. His scar made him look unusually menacing in the cold, and the little Kelvic took notice of where his axe hand was resting. He could see he had unbuckled the weapon from its leather cast on his back, and it rested conveniently over the horn on his saddle. Marrick was beginning to get worried, though eight men surely could take these fools. In a nervous twitch he ran his beak along a couple of the tines of his cage making a soft rattling sound. Kraul looked over his shoulder at him, and Marrick could see a realization had dawned upon his captor. Though by then it was too late, the soldiers of Sylira were upon them. The Kelvic could almost envision the cogs in the slavers head turning over and over scheming up a convincing lie to tell. Marrick looked from Kraul to the incoming knights, and back again. He was conflicted. I have to warn them. I have to get free! How do I do it? The Raven thought furiously. Marrick tried to calm himself and focus. He had to make contact with them somehow. Tell them what was going on. The little Kelvic tried to frantically remember how to say certain words in mimicry. He focussed on their commander as he lead the troop. He seemed tall in the saddle, his winter cloak made his figure longer though so Marrick could not be sure how large this man was. He had blue piercing eyes, and as they passed over the Caravan Marrick could almost feel their gaze. Though when they had lingered long enough and moved on the little Kelvic was surprised and panicked. He didn’t see it! Of course he didn’t see it you little bird brain! You’re a Raven and these scum have hidden their cargo. You have to do it! You have to tell them! Merrick sidestepped frantically in his cage silently. He must have looked a tizzy of agitation as he moved about his tight cage. Though he made little noise, apart from the ruffle of feathers against metal, Marrick felt he was exuding panick. After what seemed an age of waiting, the lead Knight motioned for a pair of his fellows to investigate the wagons they had joined that morning. Marrick bobbed his head side to side trying to see them both as they rode forward. An older knight lead, what appeared to be, a squire forward with him on horseback. The two split off and Marrick cursed himself for not paying closer attention to the squire. He would have to wait till he circled around. So there he was, little black raven, watching the older approaching knight with clever eyes. Dark hair and cool blue eyes framed handsome features, and Marrick pondered how in the world he could be rescued by people who seemed so beautiful. Did everyone in Syliras appear this way? Regardless the man seemed a true knight. Marrick tried to understand what it was that made this man appear knightly. The concept escaped him and he was at a loss as to what it was. Marrick tried to put his thoughts behind him and he stared at the knight as he passed. Switching his head from side to side to try and give him some dimension. He tried to see the colors of his armor, and clothes. The little Raven tried to bore a hole into the man as he rode past looking over the wagon. Marrick was desperate. Though as the knight past he realized he had not thought to try and say something, even if it were just a broken croaking of a word. With all the commotion, he could barely remember how to force his ravenous tongue to mimic. He had to say something! He heard the other Syliran call out to his comrade. “What sort of things are we looking for Ser?” and Marrick desperately wanted to say ‘me’ though he had never tried to imitate it before, he wasn’t sure how to make his throat make the sound. In desperation he tried to force his throat to speak as he did in human form, but all that came out was a gurgling cackle. Marrick gibbered in a panic until he watched this, Ser go beyond his reach. Fear gripped his little heart, and he began to flap in his cage. His wings buffeted the tight quarters, which caused the metal tines to ping musically.

[Radiant]

It was the first day of Winter as the watchtowers turned green, marking the reign of Morwen's authority. The first signs of frozen white drops couldn't be seen yet, but from the cold air breezing through the Fortress City and its surrounding area, one that was not a simpleton could see Winter had arrived. Even in these cold days, the swords of Sylir stayed strong as a patrolling group of knights rode through the Kabrin Road aboard their majestic Tiaden steed. The group consisted of about five knights and three squires, with their leader being Sergeant Knight Caelin Verellin, the quiet knight rode in front of his comrades, his sharp blue eyes taking notice of everything around them.

Then, they came across a caravan. A rather common occurrence as the Kabrin Road was the only functional road in all of Mizahar. It was often used by traders and travellers to travel from city to city. As usual with caravans, standard procedures apply. They needed to check for the identity and goods of the caravan. Ser Caelin gestured to Ser Danough, basically telling him 'go check that one, standard procedure'. The quiet knight also motioned for squire Rodistair to accompany Danough, while the rest of the patrol group stayed slightly behind.

[Danough Trema]

Code: Select all

Danough Trema 1st of Winter, 513 AV Syliras. The Quest is Joined. Danough took a deep breath to clear his head. Today had already been a long day and the patrol still had quite a ways to go. He supposed it was the season change that did it; some used any excuse for a holiday or a chance to try new things; today he had already encountered a singing buckster, a lost sailor girl, and a neurotic and overconfident squire. And a traveling bard. All in all, a very eventful day. But now he had to focus on the present. He took another deep breath and focused on the world around him. He gave a glance at the Sergeant Knight and nodded at the leader of .. he wasn't sure, but he thought it was 1st wing of the Orange Company. Might be 2nd. Definitely under the command of Stewart Knight Ightest Riloth, though. Ever since that terrible day when he was a Squire and had been unable to name the Captain Knight and Warden Knight of his Patron, Ser Danough had made it his mission to know all he could about the chain of command. Clearly there were still many gaps in his memory, though, as he had really no idea what Wing was commanded by Ser Caelin Verellin. But he did like and respect the man, from what he knew of him. He was good at his job and he kept quiet about it. In many ways he was an inspiration to Ser Danough, who had started a new, more focused regiment of combat training, running and bodybuilding after having seen the other man in action. (Later, perhaps in the spring, Ser Danough also planned to work on some of the more social and mental attributes that he himself felt a knight needed to have, such as leadership and tactics, but for now he was focused on praying to Yahal and in improving his body and physical strength.) After Ser Danough scanned the immediate area and deemed that all the knights and squires were free from any sudden danger of being eaten by cougars, he motioned for Squire Rodistair Mooring to join him. He himself had petitioned the squire's patron Ser Iros into letting the lad accompany them on this patrol after watching the squire in action on the Antinous Training Fields. Rodistair might be young, but he was twice the squire that Danough had been at that age, and he might very well someday be one of the finest knights ever, so far as martial prowess went. Once the Squire was at the ready, Ser Danough took point and galloped forward towards the caravan. It was nothing he had not done before, either on gate duty, guard duty or patrol duty, and so he went forward looking for the wagon master. Whether the caravan had 3 carts or a dozen or more carriages and wagons, the protocol was always the same: head to the front and identify yourself to the Master and any rowdys and roustabouts that were with him or her. And then ask if any help or assistance was needed. Regardless of the answer, wagons and people would still get checked for contraband and disease, but the first rule was to first and foremost offer help in any way required. As he rode forward, Ser Danough attempted to look in and at the various carts and wagons, looking at wheels-- a broken axle could spell disaster in the wilderness-- and looking to see that all ropes and lines were properly tied and secured, all goods properly stowed for the long ride between cities. While riding forward, Ser Danough would greet any he drivers and passengers he met in a hale and hearty voice, as he felt the sight of Syliran Knights always made travelers feel better about traveling on the Kabrin Road. He bade Squire Mooring to take the other side of the caravan so as to check the wheels on that side; once they met up with the Caravan Master (or someone functioning in a similar capacity) they would reverse sides when heading back to Ser Caelin, performing a more detailed inspection of the people and goods.

[Rodistair]

The squire had been given permission, very reluctantly to go on patrol with Ser Trema. It was an exciting prospect for the squire, he didn’t get the chance to go on many patrols, and getting out of the city sounded like something he really needed. He had been allowed to borrow a mount from the stables, a war horse that was very stable. He clumsily checked the tack to the best of his ability. All the leather was well cared for by the stable hands, and the buckles were free of rust and worked wonderfully. Rodistair patted his horse, as it stamped its hoof impatiently. “Ah, what a good horse.” He mounted it on the left, and swayed in the saddle as he turned the horse towards the gate, where he was meeting a patrol schedualed for the Kabrin Road.

The boy hadn’t had much experience with Sergeant Knight Verellin, but had heard about his quiet demeanor. It didn’t matter to the squire, he enjoyed quiet, especially on patrol where he could enjoy the sights on the road. He knew he should be paying attention but he didn’t have much chance to enjoy the wilderness. He followed Ser Trema, several paces behind the knight. As the patrol happened upon a caravan, the squire became excited.

He rode his horse up with Ser Trema rode to meet the caravan. Rodistair pulled on the reigns and steered his horse to the other side of the caravan. He didn’t really know what he was looking for- it was only his second real patrol, and he had little experience in this matter. “What sort of things are we looking for, Ser?” he called to Danough. He looked over the carts, filled with what seemed a random collection of goods.

[Danough Trema]

Ser Danough quickly repeated himself. He didn't mind. The squire was probably nervous and eager to please, and such tractable traits were to be encouraged. And Eyris would be pleased with the boy's inquisitive mind.

And truth be told-- as Tyveth was his witness-- he should have waited to make sure Rod understood this earlier. It was how he knew he was not yet the leader that Sergeant Knight Caellin Verillin was: Danough still had much to learn about delegating authority and explaining things to subordinates.

Even so, he was humble enough to admit his error, and he was quick to attempt to rectify it.

Looking around carefully, he waited for a moment when they were between wagons and could talk freely. "What sort of things are we looking for, you ask? I'll tell you: just check to make sure there are no broken axles on the wheels, no frayed ropes or torn leads and lashings on the wagons. Make a note of any horses or people that look distressed and I'll double back to check on them once I've rounded on the caravan master and made sure that there are no signs of trouble. Once we do the full inspection, I'll show you how to check people for disease and how to check the goods to make sure everything is above board and accounted for."

[Marrick Corvis]

OOC : Now that we've had a round of posts. I'd like to establish a posting order After Radiant, Danough, Rodistair, I'll follow up. I'm leaving the thread as PM for now. Otherwise I'm loving it so far, lets keep it rolling. Marrick felt sick from the random wobble of the cart as his cage swung too and fro. It had been a long morning and they had fallen into line with other travellers as they made their way. The wind had not let up much as their rickety cart had travelled the road. The endless sway left the little Kelvic wishing for some tea leaves, or something else to fill his empty stomach. Kimp had riden ahead early on in the morning and returned with news of the patrols. Marrick had watched Grun and Traull as they packed their more human looking cargo in with the rest of their goods. They had bound them and gagged them. Though in their haste, they had let him alone. The other poor souls in the cart were trapped beneath a mound of furs, Iron, and other chuck they intended to sell. For once, Marrick was grateful for being in Raven form for he would be hard pressed to hide the look of disgust on his face. The sun was high in the sky, yet the warmth still seemed to sap from the little Kelvic. Even though he was fluffed out as far as he could manage, he still could feel a certain painful ache from the cold. Marrick was just about to try and shut his eyes and sleep away a portion of his nightmarish day, when he was rousted by a stir in the air. He could almost feel the unmistakable drum of a large troop of shod horses, before he heard it. It was a soft rumble in the chest, almost like the very air was being shaken by thunder. He unruffled his feathers and craned his little neck to try and see where it was coming from. Kimp rode ahead of a large column of knights, a look of terror on his cowardly and sadistic face. Seeing the thief in such an uncomfortable position secretly delighted the Kelvic. These men, if such a term could be applied to his captors, deserved to get caught. As the thief brought his brown Destrier in along-side the cart he whispered words of warning to the slaver. “Eight men all on horseback.” Kimp said hurriedly as he eyed the oncoming soldiers. “Say the word and I’ll lead them away.” With that the thief parted and headed to the back of their caravan. Marrick made note that Kimp had strung his bow, and an arrow waited against the hand notch. The little raven hopped about on his perch looking for Grun. He needed to know where that big cruel oaf was lurking. He was a real danger to anyone coming close to the wagon. That was when he spotted him following the wagon on his swaybacked old Pinto. His scar made him look unusually menacing in the cold, and the little Kelvic took notice of where his axe hand was resting. He could see he had unbuckled the weapon from its leather cast on his back, and it rested conveniently over the horn on his saddle. Marrick was beginning to get worried, though eight men surely could take these fools. In a nervous twitch he ran his beak along a couple of the tines of his cage making a soft rattling sound. Kraul looked over his shoulder at him, and Marrick could see a realization had dawned upon his captor. Though by then it was too late, the soldiers of Sylira were upon them. The Kelvic could almost envision the cogs in the slavers head turning over and over scheming up a convincing lie to tell. Marrick looked from Kraul to the incoming knights, and back again. He was conflicted. I have to warn them. I have to get free! How do I do it? The Raven thought furiously. Marrick tried to calm himself and focus. He had to make contact with them somehow. Tell them what was going on. The little Kelvic tried to frantically remember how to say certain words in mimicry. He focussed on their commander as he lead the troop. He seemed tall in the saddle, his winter cloak made his figure longer though so Marrick could not be sure how large this man was. He had blue piercing eyes, and as they passed over the Caravan Marrick could almost feel their gaze. Though when they had lingered long enough and moved on the little Kelvic was surprised and panicked. He didn’t see it! Of course he didn’t see it you little bird brain! You’re a Raven and these scum have hidden their cargo. You have to do it! You have to tell them! Merrick sidestepped frantically in his cage silently. He must have looked a tizzy of agitation as he moved about his tight cage. Though he made little noise, apart from the ruffle of feathers against metal, Marrick felt he was exuding panick. After what seemed an age of waiting, the lead Knight motioned for a pair of his fellows to investigate the wagons they had joined that morning. Marrick bobbed his head side to side trying to see them both as they rode forward. An older knight lead, what appeared to be, a squire forward with him on horseback. The two split off and Marrick cursed himself for not paying closer attention to the squire. He would have to wait till he circled around. So there he was, little black raven, watching the older approaching knight with clever eyes. Dark hair and cool blue eyes framed handsome features, and Marrick pondered how in the world he could be rescued by people who seemed so beautiful. Did everyone in Syliras appear this way? Regardless the man seemed a true knight. Marrick tried to understand what it was that made this man appear knightly. The concept escaped him and he was at a loss as to what it was. Marrick tried to put his thoughts behind him and he stared at the knight as he passed. Switching his head from side to side to try and give him some dimension. He tried to see the colors of his armor, and clothes. The little Raven tried to bore a hole into the man as he rode past looking over the wagon. Marrick was desperate. Though as the knight past he realized he had not thought to try and say something, even if it were just a broken croaking of a word. With all the commotion, he could barely remember how to force his ravenous tongue to mimic. He had to say something! He heard the other Syliran call out to his comrade. “What sort of things are we looking for Ser?” and Marrick desperately wanted to say ‘me’ though he had never tried to imitate it before, he wasn’t sure how to make his throat make the sound. In desperation he tried to force his throat to speak as he did in human form, but all that came out was a gurgling cackle. Marrick gibbered in a panic until he watched this, Ser go beyond his reach. Fear gripped his little heart, and he began to flap in his cage. His wings buffeted the tight quarters, which caused the metal tines to ping musically.

[Radiant]

The quiet sharp-eyed Knight narrowed his eyes, there was something odd with the merchant's behaviour. The knight decided to help Ser Danough and Squire Rodistair himself. He motioned for the remaining four knights and two squires to follow him, the patrol group moved closer to the caravan. Ser Caelin immediately took notice of the covered wagon, dark fabric blocking the contents. If these merchants had nothing to hide, they wouldn't need it, it would only attract attention. Hmmm... maybe they carry valuable goods and doesn't want bandits to see them? There was a possibility, but since they were here, it wouldn't hurt to check.

"Ser Danough, Squire Rodistair, open that wagon." The knight gestured to the covered cart, his voice calm and piercingly deep. If the merchants tried anything funny or acted suspicious, the Sergeant Knight would command the company to arrest them for questioning. He glanced briefly at the squawking loud bird, probably spooked by the unknown presence. However, when Caelin's sharp ears heard the muffled moans of... something or someone from inside the wagon, his right hand moved to his sword. "Check it. Now."

Two knights approached the caravan leader, their hands on their sheathed longsword's hilt. "Sir, please explain. Who are you? Where are you heading? And what are you carrying?"

[Marrick Corvis]

The little Kelvic had heard the muffled cry of the slaves in the cart, as had the knights. The spark of their bravery lit the Ravens own urgent desires like a torch. And before Kraul could even speak, he found himself uncontrollably mimicking the words of his captor’s victims. “Slav-ers! Mur-der-ers! Bri-gands!” His voice croaked out, mimicking the terrified shrill cries of a woman. He continued to spout damning phrases at them while he flapped in his cage. The tines rang out like the wires of a broken piano as he struggled against them to get free. The next few precious moments happened as if in a dream or a nightmare. From behind the Caravan, Marrick heard the twang of a bowstring followed by the pained shout of the young squire. Kimp rode for the tree line on his Destrier like the wind carried him. While Grun charged forward on his scruffy swaybacked Pinto, axe raised and ready to strike. The heavy hooves of the horse filled the little Kelvics lungs with their drumming, while Marrick flopped about his cage awkwardly desperate for space. As Grun rode past, the scruffy Pinto struck his cage with its shoulder, knocking it loose with the Kelvic inside. The world seemed to flip over on itself as Marrick and his cage were thrown end over end. Sky, land, and forest seemed a blurred mess, while the little raven felt gravity tugging at his guts. As the bruisers axe met with the knights Syliran steel, Marrick’s cage met with a rough landing, shattering into poorly welded bits of metal. The little Raven felt as though he’d been thrown into the maelstrom his head a cacophony of shouting, the sound of steel, and heavy horse. From the frost covered ground where he had landed, The Kelvic did have a good view of Kraul. As Kemp and Grun drew the knights attention away from the slaver, he lashed his horses. The whip spurred them into motion, each of the massive beasts hauling as quickly as they could manage. The sheer force, almost made the cart jump with their exertion. Desperate to get out of harm’s way, the little Raven shimmied free of the smashed cage and immediately took flight. As he sailed through the cool winter air, only one thought dominated his mind. ‘These pechin scum are nae gettin away.’

[Radiant]

It was not the caravan leaders who answered the knights' inquiry, it was a black avian with strange human-like caws. The bird's voice became a harbinger of conflict as it shattered the fragile masquerade of the slavers. At the first released arrow, the knights immediately brandished their weapons, Sir Caelin didn't need to tell his men that these "merchants" were criminals, they attacked one of the order. "Bevil, Rodistair, help Rodrend." He gestured with his head for the two squires to help the arrow-stricken squire named Rodrend.

The Sergeant Knight himself readied his longsword and charged forward together with two other knights, all wielding sharp steel longswords, to meet with Grun's axe. The other two knights each wielded crossbows to return fire at Kimp, the battle was in clear favor of the knights, with their superior equipments, numbers, and skills. It was only a matter of time before Grun and Kimp fell to Sylir's sword. Caelin used his agility to evade a brute strike from Grun and this was the only chance he needed. With great synchronicity, the knight spurred his horse and aimed a slash at Grun's left arm, followed by two strikes from each of his comrade. The sharp steel cut through Grun's leather armor and flesh, the slaver grunted in pain but the knights didn't relent, the three of them continued with stabs directed to his chest, belly, and waist.

As for the crossbowman slaver, he was facing against two experienced knights each wielding crossbows, one knight circled around the slaver scout while the other one kept his aim, the knights were planning to surround Kimp. There were two paths for the thief, surrender or return to Dira.

"...I'm going." Confident his two knights would finish off Grun, Caelin broke away from combat to chase after the slaver wagon, none of these scums would escape justice. That bird... The quiet knight's sharp mind figured out something, the large black raven was no ordinary bird, it was far too intelligent. As he gave chase, Caelin looked to his right, finding the black raven also giving chase. Interesting, indeed.

[Marrick Corvis]

As Marrick’s wings beat the cold air wildly, he sped forward. Each stroke of his feathers closed the gap between his talons and that scums face. The exhilaration of the chase raced through his heart like an arrow from a bow. The anticipation of justice, so near to fruition, was palpable. The Kelvic could almost taste it, and yes, it would be sweet. Off of his left side the Kelvic’s widened view could see the lead knight galloping forward on his massive steed. ‘Good!’ He thought. ‘Oi’ll need his arm.’ Though the Kelvic knew that Kraul would likely try to cut the wagon and run if pressed just as Kimp was trying to do. Grun was the fool of the bunch. Their odds were never favored on this route. Marrick had always known that. He banked slightly maintaining his speed with the Knight as they rode down Kraul together. When he had drawn close enough for the knight to hear him, he croaked out a message. “De-lay, de-lay!” he called. “Foil! Foil!” When he was sure the knight had gotten the message he pushed as hard as his wings could manage, gaining altitude and speed. The cart drew close, until at last he passed it, over the curses of Kraul. The man seemed to struggle to keep control, as the horses of his cart ran in fear of his whip. Marrick knew all too well that fear. The Raven knew what he had to do. With a great righteousness in his heart, he made a hard bank, and dove. Marrick knew he wasn’t swift enough in a dive, like a falcon or an eagle, to kill Kraul. Though, what the Kelvic knew he lacked in speed, he made up for in talent. He sped downward as he adjusted his wings with each buffet of wind, or turn of the cart. When he was within a meter of the racing wagon he opened his wings and awkwardly adjusted his primary and tail feathers, aiming a clawed strike at the Slavers face. Kraul was too late to block, and Marrick felt his claws as they drew along the Slavers face. As he wheeled about, he was just in time to see the cart bounce as it hit a large pothole in the road. Kraul was thrown bodily from the driver’s bench to land awkwardly on the cold hard dirt. While the horses, at last, realized they no longer had a driver. Their relief was plain as the cart slowed to a stop, and it veered slightly from the road. Marrick followed it to its resting place and wheeled back for Kraul. The Knight though, had gotten to him first. The Raven watched as the soldier dismounted, and drew his blade. Marrick descended from the heavens like a little black vengeful god, to delicately land on the Saddle horn of the lead Knight’s warhorse. “Jus-tice!” His voice croaked out in imitation of an angry man, whos accent was clearly Drykas. His pale blue eyes fixed on the scum who lay bent and broken on the ground. “Jus-tice!” He repeated this time in the voice of a woman who’s accent was clearly shiber. “Jus-tice!” he heard his own voice ring out.