| Heartwood Logs |
2000-02-11
| Heartwood |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
Morning Tales
It is Brisa who wakes first, reminded of just how cold and harsh the
tavern floor is by the ache of a crick in her back. What woke her was
the scrape of steel against steel. A start, of course, but the noise
was harmless. It was just the courier, crouched at the hearth ladling
out a bowl of stew. His gear is already packed, sitting by the door,
and his heavy cloak is already wrapped upon his shoulders.
Beneath a single roof is the commons hall of the ramshackle tavern, if indeed it can be called such. It is little more than a large room, its floor cold, hard packed earth. In one corner there is a bar, or at least a couple wooden planks set atop an old barrel. Behind it is a closed door leading to the small house structure. A couple of bottles are stacked upon the wooden planks, as well as a pair of crockery jugs. To the left there is a fireplace. It has a small fire within, which provides most of the light in the room. In the hearth is a big black pot. It gurgles. And the smell of stew comes from within. Thin stew but hot stew none the least. A small lamp sputters in another corner, valiantly attempting to banish the shadows. From the cracks between the door and frame soft yellow light streams, letting in the snap of a cold storm season breeze.
Brisa sits up and rubs her face once, then nods to the courier and murmurs softly, "Mornin'." She stretches and yawns, then rises, throws on her cloak and pulls on her boots, collects a handful of grain from her pack, and heads out to check on Khari before breakfast.
Roxanna wakes suddenly as the folks around her begin to stir, but sits up slowly and stretches. "And a proper morning it is, at least. Not like yesterday's, eh?"
Benedict snorts a little, and blinks open his eyes at the commotion. He yawns a little, and stretches, forcing himself to not be lazy as he sits up. He crosses his legs, takes in a deep breath, and closes his eyes. Silent morning prayers to Hastur might not be the usual form in the Temples, but after yesterday's little 'fun' he should be thankful for seeing something few have ever seen before... and, oh, yes, being thankful for living to tell the tale!
"Mornin'... brisk today, isn't it?" The Courier simply nods to Brisa as she heads to the door, as he takes a sip from his thin breakfast. Walking outside, Brisa first sees the Courier's sturdy horse standing quietly outside the tavern door, ground tied. It whuffles and stomps its black hoof once. A bit further south a solitary figure can be seen, making its way towards the tavern.
Aram rounds the curve of the road, and grins at the sight of the ramshackle little tavern. Drawing his still damp chrys about him he shivers, and hurries down towards the inn, little bits of moss and leaves dropping off his clothes as he moves. As he draws near, he blinks in surprised recognition at the woman who's just stepped out of the inn.
Inside, the courier sits on the edge of the hearth, holding his bowl in both hands, warming them. "Morning, mi'lady. And da, She decided to once again look down at us. One can't complain."
Brisa is greeted by Khari's impatient nudge. She opens her hand, watching the approaching figure as Khari whuffles up the grain, then carefully licks Brisa's hand clean so no rogue bits of grain escape... she grins, "Well, Aram! What brings you here? Just at meal time again, I see!"
Aram's eyes crinkle up and he grins cheerily, if a bit damply. "Brisa! Well met! I could say I was blown in by a passing gust, and that wouldn't be far off... headed towards Cragside, actually." He looks longingly at the inn. "Wood and bones, food and warmth sound wonderful. What brings you to this... place?"
Brisa heads for the barn when Khari's finished forlornly inspecting her hands for just a nibble more... she pulls down some hay for her mare, then heads for the stream to wash up. As she works she calls out to Aram, "Khari, of course... who else? So, spent the night on the side of the road? I can loan you a curry brush for your chrys if you need?"
Absentmindedly Aram glances at the horse to make sure his repairs held true. Satisfied, he sneezes and shakes out his chrys some more. He chuckles at Brisa, "I'm surprised, I thought you'd ride the moon down here." His eyes crinkle a bit. "Didn't mean to presume." He half-waves a hand. "Eh... I don't need a brush as much as a good warm hearth, but many thanks for the offer." He nods g'day to Brisa and hurries inside, rubbing his hands.
Brisa grins and washes up in the icy water... then pauses, using her cloak as an impromptu towel, and sings softly to herself, watching the sun rise. She heads indoors once she's sure Khari's contentedly breakfasting, and the Sun has properly risen.
Benedict opens his eyes and yawns again, stretching a little as he stands. Well, it beats being stuck in a novice house, where it's even colder and the bed, such as it is, is harder than wood.
Roxanna gets herself a bit of stew from the hearth, nodding to Benedict as she does. "Want any?"
Benedict's back goes crick and he lets out a sigh. "Oh!" he retrieves his bowl from his bedroll, and nods, heading over to the fire. "Yes, please, Roxanna..."
Slowly savoring each warm spoonful, the courier takes his time working through his first meal. As Benedict stirs, he nods a good morning before returning to his meal. His eyes, however, narrow for just the briefest moment as this new stranger enters... but then he judges, considers and returns to his breakfast.
Roxanna dishes Benedict a bowl of stew as well, handing it to him just as the new arrival enters. She nods good morning.
Benedict accepts the bowl of thin stew, settling himself beside the hearth. He sees Brisa's movement and looks over to the doorway, nods to the new arrival, tilting his head to the side. He smiles to Aram, and nods. "'Morning," he says simply. "Stew?"
Aram smiles at him gratefully. "Morn to you. Thank you... Brisa, are these comrades of yours?" He huddles near the hearth, sipping his soup and looking damp, bedraggled and a bit leafy.
Brisa nods quietly, "Good morning, all. This is Aram. Aram, the dama Roxanna, Benedict, and gospodin, I don't have your name?" The last is addressed to the courier.
Aram barely restrains himself from wolfing the stew down and scalding his mouth.
Brisa is humming quietly and contentedly to herself. Her hair is damp and she's using one side of her cloak to dry her hands... then she helps herself to some stew.
Benedict says, "Is it raining out, Brisa?"
Brisa says, "No... just washed up thoroughly, Benedict." She grins, "You don't have to wash up that much if you don't want..." she eyes Aram amusedly, "-although brushing off your clothes might be um... tidy..."
Looking up from his stew, the red haired courier nods. "Rhys Liykasson."
Aram eyes Brisa tolerantly. "I've tried, my dear... but my clothes are just a tad too damp for proper brushing. I'm hoping that if I sit over here, either I'll dry off enough to brush properly, or the leaves will catch fire and warm my scorched bones."
Brisa nods, "Pleased to meet you, Rhys." She goes back to eating.
Aram picks off a leaf here and there, in between hungry bites of stew.
Roxanna says, "So, where are we bound this morning, Brisa? Any suggestions?"
Brisa gives Roxanna a thoughtful glance, "Well... where were you headed originally, lady? What were your goals?" She thinks a moment, then glances at Benedict, "You too, Benedict... where do you want to head for?"
Roxanna says, "I was originally bound away from Trundle. Toward was not a major factor at that point. Where would you recommend I could find some of my fellows?"
"And whom might your fellows be mi'lady. I'm pretty well traveled." Rhys pauses in his meal, looking back to Roxanna.
Roxanna nods to the Courier. "I am Roxanna, late of Trundle."
Brisa says, "By 'fellows' do you mean other Atterans, lady? If so there's supposed to be a nice temple in Cragside... that's the largest one I know of in this area."
Roxanna says, "That's as good a place as any then."
Brisa grins amusedly at Roxanna, "All right then... it would seem we were all headed in that general direction." She gives Roxanna a curious glance, but politely doesn't ask any questions.
Benedict listens quietly, finishing off the meager stew.
Aram shifts from his place near the hearth. "If you're going that way, might I accompany you? The roads are always safer traveled in numbers. And mayhap this night, I can avoid sleeping in the damp wood far off the road."
Brisa nods to Aram, "Sure, one more's no problem. Just... use a curry brush next time, eh?" She grins teasingly. Aram grins back at her, ducking his head.
The courier blinks. "Cor, Trundle-on-the-Hill? That's a far travel mi'lady, and one beyond my ken. But the dama's right. Father Perrin runs the Temple out of Cragside, and I believe it's Lady Maris' hospice. It's a decent place, I'd wager. Or at least they've always been fair to me."
Roxanna raises an eyebrow at this exchange. "An old friend of yours, I take it?"
Brisa grins at Roxanna, "We've met on the road. Aram's a good hand with tack repairs."
Roxanna nods to the courier. "A long way indeed. My mentor persuaded me a change of scenery was desirable."
Aram tilts his head at Rox. "What's your trade, lass?"
Giving Roxanna a long look, the courier nods again. "I've heard tell of that..."
Roxanna grins. "Healer sometimes... and other times, a bard, of sorts."
Brisa smiles quietly at Rox's words and neatly packs up her bedroll.
Roxanna nods grimly to the courier. "There is... little respect for the Gods there."
Benedict looks moderately uncomfortable, and finds great fascination with the dregs of stew in his bowl.
Aram smiles quietly at Rox. "Of sorts? Music or verse -- or both?"
Brisa sits on her bedroll and murmurs, "Little respect... I wonder why the Fair Folk were plaiting manes on the pack horses? and why they fear the Dirkwood?"
Roxanna smiles at Aram. "I play and sing. I'm not a true bard, I don't write my own songs, mostly."
Aram rubs his chin. "I've heard it said that some of the best bards simply excelled at carrying on the traditions and worlds of others. No shame in that. Just don't ever ask me to sing chorus, you'll have people wasting their last meal to pelt ye with it."
Roxanna says, "Well, one of us they will, nyeh?"
Aram snorts and shakes his head, a few more leafy bits falling out of his hair. "Aye."
"Everyone..." Rhys takes a sip of his stew, "...is afraid of the Dirkwood."
Benedict looks up a little at that, glancing at Rhys.
Aram turns towards Brisa, brow creased, "You ran afoul of the Fey folk?"
Brisa says, "Da, but why? Even the Fair Folk fear the Dirkwood... even the East. I wonder what's in there..."
Rhys smiles ruefully. "Besides the dead Prince and the bones of my horse? I'm sure there's a tale there... but the trick is living long enough to tell it."
Brisa starts to nod to Aram, then goes still, thinking, "I wonder... what if... what if it was because that's the last lair of the Coveners? Isn't Nature supposed to be one of the elemental forces?"
Aram blinks and stills at the mention of the Coveners. He puts down his stew bowl.
Roxanna says, "Indeed..."
Brisa glances around and smiles, "Wouldn't it be something if... if Jeminy's Hill, or if Caer Maiyin were in there?"
Benedict says, "If... I'm sorry, if what were there?"
Reaching up to scratch the back of his head, Rys slowly nods. "Now that's a thought I had not heard before. Though if it's true, I'd think most folks would then just wish them a fare thee well. You can have the carnivorous trees."
Brisa says, "Well, wouldn't it make sense for uh... what do they call it, mother nature? Wouldn't it make sense for her to have her trees eat intruders, if she's protecting her last people? And... and that would account for the wolves too -- wouldn't that be the um... horned god of the animals at work?"
Roxanna looks at Brisa oddly. "I'm pretty sure wolves don't have horns. Isn't that elk or deer or something?"
Brisa grins a little wistfully at Benedict, "Lost places, Benny... First Age things that live on only in ballads now." She grins at Roxanna, "Sure, but if mother nature um... I don't know, like controls or something? the earth, wouldn't the animals be the province of the horned god perhaps?" She looks at Benedict hopefully, "Do you know?"
Benedict frowns slightly, and shakes his head. "I wish I did, Brisa. I'm afraid they didn't teach us novices much about... other beliefs. That's sort of left to us to discover on our own, usually, and I haven't learned anything more than what I've picked up from talking with you and Roxanna."
"And whatever they might have been, if they do survive they are..." Rhys looks down and ladles out another bowl of soup, "...they are right quiet about what they Believe. It's... not what folks talk about. Especially if they've run across them."
Aram softly murmurs, "I think that they would, depending on who you're talking to."
Brisa says, "Ah, too bad, Benedict." She grins, "Wouldn't it be something though... in the First Age, weren't there supposed to be fewer gods? Law, Chaos, and Nature... if the Coveners are Nature, are the Fair Folk Chaos? and are the three constantly at odds? That might explain the Dirkwood...?"
Roxanna says, "But then what is the East?"
Benedict tilts his head to the side. "The gods of that time were also... wilder. More primal. There might be reasons why city-dwellers and more recent folk shy away from their worship."
Brisa smiles at Benedict, "Really?" She ponders, then adds, "Hm... well... another pantheon? Maybe... maybe deities are um... tied to locations, or to species? The Easterners certainly aren't human..."
Benedict gives a slight shrug. Now is not the time to get into theological discussions with your travelling companions, squib! "Well," he says wryly, "I confess that what I've learned has been sort of tilted in favor of Hastur, Brisa."
Roxanna snorts. "And what a surprise that is."
Rhys notes quietly, "Are you even sure the Fair Folk have deities?"
Benedict looks to Roxanna, and says mildly, "No less so than it would be for any other priest of any other deity."
Roxanna says, "A point. They are Elsewhere, aren't they? Maybe the East is Chaos and the Fey are their own."
Rhys laughs, "Elsewhere is a very good way of describing them, yes."
Brisa leans her chin on her fist, staring into the fire and thinking. "Hm... if the East is Chaos then... then I'm guessing the Fair Folk really are from Elsewhere... because Nature sure seems to hate Chaos as much as she hates the Fey. I wonder how she feels about Law?" She gets a very speculative look... then looks up suddenly, "Have any of you seen Easterners? I wonder if the Fey are associated with them somehow?"
Aram shakes his head. "No... everyone's grandfather's brother has seen them though, and each and every one looks different and more frightening than the last. How did we get on such an esoteric topic? Did you encounter the Fey?"
Benedict blinks, looking to Brisa. "Easterners? I can't say I have..."
Roxanna grins rather sardonically. "If you really want some information on the Easterners, why not ask someone who's been to Trundle?"
Brisa grins cheerfully back, "I was... sort of round-aboutly, so you didn't have to answer if you didn't want to, lady."
Roxanna says, "Depends which ones you're asking about, nyeh?"
Brisa looks surprised, "There's more than one kind?" She nods to Aram, "Yes, we did."
Aram leans on his staff. "What happened? What was that about braids in the horses manes?"
Roxanna says, "Several. We mostly saw the ones who come with the caravans from the East back in Trundle. The fighters are tall, pale, and have pointed ears. They dress in loose clothing, mostly. The sorcerers..." Roxanna nods to herself. "Yes, they must be Chaos. Their sorcerers can't decide what they want to drink and still want it by the time their orders arrive."
Benedict blinks, listening with wide eyes and ears.
Brisa grins at Aram, "Hang on, one subject at a time, please?" She looks at Roxanna in fascination, "So... do they all look different then? Like the Fey are supposed to?"
Roxanna thinks about it. "Well...no, they all look similar, just like humans do. They tend to be tall, and pale, and they have pointed ears. Bunch of decadent nasties they are, though. Dangerous, and you never know what'll strike their fancies next. The sorcerers dress like they deliberately want to clash... like their powers would fail if they actually had a matching robe and tunic, y'know?" Brisa laughs! Roxanna snorts. "Laugh, then, but it's true nonetheless."
Benedict blinks. "Chaos, indeed..."
Aram snorts and mutters sotto voce, "Mysteries of the universe. Chaos or Just Bad Dressers."
Brisa grins at Roxanna's words, "That's funny... huh. I wonder if my imaginings are true..." she muses a few moments, then looks up at Aram with a smile, "We were part of a caravan. The mule-skinner tried to kill something like a small bat that was plaiting elf locks in the horses' manes. When we woke up the next morning we... were elsewhere." Brisa adds a little proudly, "Khari, the lady Roxanna, and Benedict here got us safely back."
Roxanna blushes a little. "And you didn't exactly do nothing yourself. A joint effort, I'd say. We made a good team, I think."
Aram's eyebrows go up at the mention of the mule-skinner's actions, and he absentmindedly touches the stone hanging around his neck. "Ah. Dear." He regards them gravely. "I'm glad you made it back unchanged and hale."
Benedict straightens a little at Brisa's praise. "Roxanna is right, Brisa..."
Brisa chuckles a little wryly, "Well... I'm not really sure what I did, but if it helped then I'm glad."
Roxanna says, "You're the one who had the presence of mind to retrieve our supplies from the wreckage and get us moving. Benedict provided some information, and I sang to the Fey to keep them off guard."
Brisa says, "Hm. All right, I guess that was useful..." she grins, "-if... disgustingly pragmatic..."
Benedict laughs softly.
Roxanna says, "Nothing wrong with a dash of pragmatic now and again. Keeps us lofty artistic and intellectual types connected to reality, eh?"
Brisa laughs again! then turns to Aram, still grinning, "So... what did you mean by unchanged?"
Rhys laughs, slowly finishing his stew. "And alive too, I might wager." Brisa grins quietly at Rhys.
Aram shakes his head ruefully. "I've heard all sorts of stories late at night on the roads, of travelers and the unwary encountering the fae, and emerging changed out of the bargain -- if they're heard from at all, again. They have their own ways, and woe betide those who trespass even unknowingly upon them." he leans on his staff. "Changed... tails, horns... no eyes or ears..." He grimaces in disgust. "And other things not fit for polite company."
Benedict blinks. In a very quiet voice, he says, "I... guess we got off easy." Aram nods solemnly. Brisa nods slowly at Benedict's words, watching Aram.
Roxanna says, "And we kept our wits about us."
Brisa says, "Da, that surely didn't hurt any. And we greeted the water lady courteously." Brisa casually runs one hand through her hair, across her forehead.
Aram smiles at Brisa. "Courtesy... very important. All the small things matter. I know not why, but it seems that in certain ways, they are bound by them."
Brisa says, "It was... the right thing to do."
Aram huffs softly, almost amused. "And that it was."
Roxanna says, "Apparently, righter than we even knew at the time."
Brisa smiles at Roxanna, "Courtesy in another's home is always the right thing."
Aram shakes out his chrys, now finally fully dry. The last few leaves crinkle and fall away.
Roxanna says, "And she accepted my ballad as a gift, too, I think. Very curious, they are."
Brisa murmurs thoughtfully, "I wonder where they come from... if they come from the same place the deities come from..."
Aram says, "What ballad was that, Roxanna?"
Roxanna says, "Jeminy Hill was the one she liked the most."
Brisa looks up, "Wouldn't it be... odd if the Fey were Law, and we just couldn't see the laws they followed?"
Aram shrugs. "Not particularly. Makes a strange sort of sense as it is... if they can be divided so neatly."
Roxanna says, "Well...they may be Law where they live. Although some of them... perhaps the concepts themselves are different there."
Brisa says, "Hm... that's an interesting thought. How could a basic truth about a world be... different? Or... are you saying that each world has its own basic truths? Maybe they come from the same place the centauri come from?"
Benedict listens, keeping his mouth shut and listening with ears wide open. In fact, 'shut up and listen' was a common command from his master.
Roxanna says, "The latter, I think. Basic truths are slippery things, after all..."
Brisa says, "Huh... but how can truth be slippery, if a Hasturian can just bespell for it? Benedict... how do you know what truth is?"
Aram moves his belt pouches away from the hearth, and starts organizing his things for the coming journey.
Roxanna says, "Ah, but there's truth, and there's Truth. It's the latter that are slippery."
Brisa blinks blankly, "Um... what? what's the difference?"
Roxanna says, "Little truths are just facts. What you had for breakfast, what's the purpose of a Faerie Ring, what are the Easterners. The Big Truths are the ultimates -- and they can be slippery. What's right? Why? For example... is stealing wrong?" Brisa looks at Benedict expectantly. Roxanna waits expectantly for an indignant yes from the Hasturian...
Benedict says, "Well... from my point of view, yes... but I'd seen enough before I got taken into the priesthood to know that there're gray areas."
Brisa gets a surprised look, "Wait... a Hasturian is... is possibly condoning stealing?!"
Roxanna looks faintly surprised to hear that from a Hasturian, too...but she's not had Brisa's direct experience.
Roxanna says, "Exactly. Which is why we have to intervene in Judgement sometimes, y'know. What if the stealing was to keep your kids from starving? Is that wrong?"
Brisa still looks surprised, "But why steal? Ask! It's the right thing to do, to help others out!"
Roxanna says, "It is. But not everyone knows that. Bright Lady knows that it happened all to seldom in Trundle..."
Brisa huhs softly... "Well, I knew I didn't want to visit cities for a reason..."
Benedict sighs almost tiredly, and looks over to Brisa. "I'm not condoning stealing, Brisa. Stealing itself is wrong. But at the same time, what is stealing? Ask a merchant -- he'll say taxes and tariffs are stealing. Ask a heath- well, someone who doesn't follow the local faith, whatever that faith might be, and yet the community is centered around that faith. Any tithes they must pay could be considered stealing..."
Brisa gives Benedict a curious look, "So... what's 'right' for Hastur then? Tithes support your lord, so he or she can defend you, Benedict. That's not stealing."
Roxanna says, "He's talking about tithes to a church which you are not a member of, I think. In addition to the lord's share."
Brisa says, "Oh!" She looks a bit doubtful, "But... why would a church do that? Wouldn't that be wrong?"
Benedict shrugs a little. "What if you don't want to be defended by someone in particular, for whatever reason? You'd rather die at a bandit's blade than accept that lord's help."
Roxanna says, "Yes, which wouldn't always stop them. Sometimes, the Churches don't follow what the Gods teach."
Brisa gives Benedict a startled look, "How... insane!" She looks at Roxanna, still a little bemused looking, "So... don't their gods talk to them any more? The poor things!"
Benedict looks mildly irritated, but sighs. "That's true for any faith, unfortunately."
Brisa gives Benedict and Roxanna puzzled and sympathetic looks, "So... is this why the two of you have left your home keeps? I'm so sorry... I had no idea."
Roxanna says, "Well, I suspect that the ones who go adrift like that don't hear their God anymore... but how can someone else be sure?"
Benedict shakes his head, looking into the depths of his now-empty bowl. "No, I... well, maybe. I asked my master to make me an Eye of Hastur so I could see the world how it is. Books are fine, I learned a lot from the chapter house, but I know there's more to things than that. There are other truths than are written in the books. I needed to see them, learn them, write them down, if not for the sake of my order, then for the sake of myself and Hastur.
Roxanna looks around and lowers her voice still farther. "Brisa... as far as I know, I was the last Atteran in Trundle after my lady mentor passed away. And I didn't have the power to keep myself safe without her aid. The East... has infected them."
"Bright Lady!" Brisa sounds shocked, then horrified, "There are nogodsleft in Trundle?! Who cares for the poor people?!"
Roxanna sighs, looking bereaved. "We tried... she made me promise to leave, though, after she died... she knew what would happen."
Brisa stares in shock at Roxanna for a few seconds... then impulsively gets up and sits down next to her, hugging her gently, "You did the right thing, Roxanna... mentorsknowthings..."
Roxanna says, "The poor... care for each other, as best as they can. The Gods -- are not there. And the rulers are too much infected by the East to care." She accepts the hug, glad to be able to havesaidthat aloud, finally.
Benedict remains quiet, listening. This is beyond his ken, for now, at least. Maybe someday...
Brisa smiles a little bleakly at Benedict over Roxanna's head, still hugging gently, "I guess... we'll findsometruth..."
Trystan steps in quietly from the cold of the morning outside, the soles of his boots scraping softly against the flooring. He stands by the door, a gentle, approachable look on his face as he looks around the room.
Brisa studies Trystan silently... then nods calmly, "Enter, and warm yourself."
Trystan steps quietly over to the fireplace, squatting to rub his hands before the flame. He turns to the woman who spoke, "Thank ye, m'lady." He punctuates this with a quiet, warm bowing if his head. "'Tis a bit crisp this morn." He coos softly to no one in particular, "Oooh... this is pleasant."
Brisa settles quietly next to Roxanna, "So it is. Where are you headed, traveler, if you mind not my asking?"
Benedict looks up from his bowl to the new arrival, and smiles and nods to him in greeting.
Trystan smiles, his face lighting as he does so, "Nowhere in particular..." He grins, "I just sort of," gesturing with his hands, "Collect stories... songs..."
Roxanna grins back. "And 'tis stories ye're collecting, is it?"
Trystan's grin broadens, "There's so much to see out there... I do my best to see as much of it as I can..." And punctuating this with a friendly point, "and to bring as much of it as I can to those who can't travel themselves... gayly to the hunt!"
Brisa says, "Mm." She grins, "You should talk to Roxanna here then." Her gesture indicates the lady sitting next to her, "-ask for a cheery song, eh?"
Rhys leans back against the hearth, greeting the newcomer with a curt nod. As he looks at his empty bowl he glances towards the door, noticing how far the morning light is now streaking in.
Trystan nods, "That sounds like a wonderful idea!" warmly gazing at Roxanna, "You're a musician, a singer?"
Roxanna is a little surprised that the courier is here this late... "Among other things, yes."
Trystan tilts his head softly, "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you." He rises warmly to his full height, certainly not imposing, but more... um... proper. "I'm called Trystan."
Laughing quietly Rhys nods, "Then you are keep-town bound? Because... " He looks about the poor commons hall, "I don't think anyone reallystayshere."
Trystan lilts, "Oh... not in particular... travels take me... and not the other way around." He smiles, "And yourselves? Do you travel together?"
Brisa smiles from where she's sitting, "Spacebo, Trystan. I am Brisa, and these are Roxanna, Benedict, Aram, and Rhys."
Trystan nods to each in turn, "It's a wonderful pleasure to have made your acquaintance... May I join you?" He finishes quickly, "...to sit with you?"
Brisa grins, "Be comfortable. We travel to Cragside."
Trystan mulls the name as he does just that... he murmurs, "...Cragside..." He looks around the party, "and you travel there... together?"
Roxanna says, "Well...we might as well, since we all seem to be bound that way."
Benedict nods quietly.
Brisa says, "I'm guessing gospodin Rhys the courier will be traveling alone, but the rest of us... yes, we travel together. Is that the direction you're headed in?"
The courier shakes his head. "No. I'm Dawnview bound, actually. I'll be heading east from here."
Trystan smiles a winning, lopsided smile, "You have quite a wonderful diversity to your company... What brings you together?"
Brisa murmurs dryly, "The Fair Folk."
Trystan looks the courier up and down thoughtfully, then looks back to Brisa, brightly chuckling, "...The fair folk?"
Brisa nods, "Indeed." She grins at Roxanna, "You're the story teller, dama."
Trystan arches a friendly eyebrow to Roxanna... "...you've gone in search of a... a first meeting? Or a second?"
Rhys answers back Trystan's inquiring glance. "No, lad, you don't want to follow my path."
Roxanna says, "Ach, but I haven't had time to put that into a proper story yet. No, we arenotlooking for another meeting. The first one was quite enough."
Trystan nodnods... "ahhh... so youhaveseen them... what were they like?" He quickly follows, "...if you don't mind me askin'?" He settles himself, sluffing his packs carefully near to him.
Roxanna says, "They were... interesting."
Trystan smiles softly, "...I imagine..." with a warm sigh... "I'd love to hear about it sometime... if'n ye feel fine to tell about it."
Roxanna looks to Brisa. "Perhaps we should tell the story on the road? Or are we planning to stay a day here to recover?"
Trystan jerks his head toward the stew... "D'ya mind if'n I grab some? I can add a dash of this'n that to it if ya like..." He looks to Roxanna... ".On the road... is that an invite to travel wi' ya?" He beams warmly.
Roxanna says, "That, I suspect, will depend on how the last of our group feels about you."
Trystan chuckles, "... on whether I can share your stew... or share paths for a while?"
Benedict blinks, giving a start as if broken from his thoughts. "Oh! I'm not minding at all, please, feel free..."
Trystan smiles, looking longingly over to the fire, "I wouldn't mind traveling wi' ya for a while... can't promise how long I'll be wi' ya... but I've found that if you walk with someone who looks liketheyknow where they're goin' you often find yourself in some quite wonderful times."
Brisa gives Trystan an amused glance, "This is an inn... um, of sorts, Trystan. You're welcome to stew, so long as you repay the innkeep somehow."
Trystan cranes his neck around, "...now where d'ya s'pose he's gotten to... didn't seen anyone else when I came in..." He ambles over to the stew, "This smells mighty good..."
Benedict scoots over to the side a little, to give Trystan room to get to the stew-pot. The courier sets a handful of pennies down on the hearth. "Tommy will find them when he awakens. He's very old..."
Trystan says, as he ladles stew into his bowl, "'Tis amazing how much of an appetite one can build so early in the day." He nods his thanks to Benedict.
Roxanna says, "Depends on how long the day before you were building it, I'd think."
Trystan looks to the Courier... "Oh... that isn't for..." He smiles, "if you're offering to pay for me, I very much appreciate it... I'm in your debt." He smiles, "...that is if those pennies weren't meant for someone else," then chuckles brightly to Roxanna, "Very true... very true." He ends with a knowing wink.
Rhys laughs, "I don't have much else to spend my coin on."
Brisa smiles quietly, "Eh, spend it on Thorn... I spend most of mine on my Khari."
Trystan nods warmly, "well, I'm much obliged... and..." he lightly steps back to where he was sitting, nibbling as he goes, "...this really is good stew..." He sits, "I can always repay you with a song... or a story... which," around another mouthful, "often times, is as important to the soul as is a good meal." He looks between Rhys and Brisa... "...Thorn... Khari? You two got sweet'arts?"
The courier blinks, "I hope not. Thorn is a gelding." Brisa chuckles quietly at Trystan's comment about the horses.
Trystan laughs heartily, "Well now! If you've got enough money for a horse, then Icanunderstand your generosity, even for the likes of a stranger... thank you again kind lord," bowing his head warmly, "I am indebted to your generosity." He finds the bottom of his bowl, and looks up to Brisa... "Someday... someday i hope to have a horse. Nice, fine bay... though... sometimes I worry that I'll get lazy if I ever can afford one... walkin' builds character... wouldn't you say?"
Brisa raises an eyebrow and smiles, "I'd have to agree that Khari has a lot of character, da."
Roxanna snickers at the fast-talking lutist. "Well, I'd say you're certainly a character, so it must."
Trystan fishes around in his pack, pulling a half of a flat-ish bread, "Anyone care for some bread?" He breaks the loaf, then offers it around. Brisa accepts some with quiet thanks. Rhys accepts the bread with a nod, and uses it to clean out the last of the stew from his bowl. Trystan chuckles warmly to Roxanna, "You got me there... but... it's kind-of my job." He beams, "What good would a boring bard be?"
Brisa laughs delightedly again! Roxanna takes a small piece of bread as well. "True."
Trystan also uses his bread to clean his bowl, downing the bread with satisfaction, "That hit the spot. And thank you, my gentle lord," nodding to Rhys.
Brisa smiles quietly at Trystan, "Will you be needing rest before travel?"
Trystan smiles, setting his bowl down to massage his calves lightly, "Nope. Far be it for me to hold you up on your own travels, if'n ye're kind enough to let me walk with you for a while."
Benedict accepts the bread, listening to the conversation, and smiling a bit. His mood seems to have improved significantly in the past few minutes.
Chuckling quietly, Rhys says, "You are welcome. Though I am not a lord, just a carrier of messages."
Trystan chuckles brightly to Rhys, "Anyone with grace enough to help out a fellow traveler merits respect in my book."
Brisa eyes Rhys curiously... then nods to Trystan, "Well enough then." Trystan nods softly... Brisa murmurs thoughtfully, "Where... what path do you carry them, Rhys?"
Trystan stows his bowl in his pack quietly. Benedict tilts his head, looking over to Rhys the courier as Brisa asks him her question.
Rhys slips his bowl into his bedroll. "Out to Dawnview, straight east from here to Corliss." His words are quietly serious.
Trystan regards Rhys reflectively. Brisa sighs softly, and politely doesn't press it then. Trystan looks to Brisa, softly mulling, then to Roxanna and then to Benedict. Then Brisa blinks, looking faintly startled again, "Er...straighteast?!" Trystan studies the others quietly.
Rhys nods, "It's the fastest route between here and Dawnview. It cuts at least a month off the travel time."
Brisa studies Rhys thoughtfully, "Pardon my saying so, but... isn't that suicide?"
Roxanna says, "Good luck, then."
Benedict blinks, glancing around. The courier must have something incredibly important, if he's been told to takethatroute! Trystan just watches, quietly engrossed.
The courier just shrugs his shoulders. "It's never certain death. The old road still runs from Geoffrey's Town to Pathside Inn to Corliss. I'm one rider, fast, and I don't stop. But I don't recommended it. I've been lucky. I've never metHim. The one who commands the hordes he looses upon Bordertown."
Trystan nodds softly, almost imperceptibly... his arm folded across his chest, supporting an elbow that in turn supports a hand that covers his mouth thoughtfully.
Brisa says, "Um... Him?"
Benedict blinks, and for some reason, just...shiverswhen he hears Rhys use that pronoun in that tone of voice.
Looking back to Brisa, Rhy's gaze is quiet and still. "Some folks say that all the bands that live in the Forest's shadow, that they aren't just gangs, but lead by a single brigand Captain."
Brisa blinks again, dawning realization on her face, "Ooooh...Him..." She's silent for a moment... then gets a sudden, sharp gleam in her eyes, "On...Bordertown... do you know why, Rhys? Is there a... a um, poisoned well there?"
Trystan snuffs a quiet sound of interest. Rhys blinks quietly, "A poisoned well in Bordertown? There is a well in the town itself, marked with the runes of water, time and horse. But it's the town well, and the water there is cool and fresh. But you know who might know... Lord Random. He lives in a tower just outside the Bordertown walls, on a huge pile of stone and rubble. He has the oddest library there."
Trystan's eyes narrow slightly, listening... Brisa nods quietly, her gaze intent, "Spacebo, Rhys. May your ride be crowns for stars."
Benedict frowns slightly, but perks his ears at that. A library! A library that isn't a Temple one! And a library that's called 'odd,' of all things! Oh, the hoary, dry tomes of the chapter-house surely wouldn't be found there! He inclines his head to Rhys. "A safe trip, sir..."
Trystan nods softly, "...a safe journey."
Gathering up his gear, Rhys nods, "Thank you. And you too. There are worse places in the world than Cragside. You never know quite who is going to show up there. Especially now."
Roxanna listens with interest. Brisa mutters softly under her breath, shaking her head disgustedly, "Nyet, I'm an idiot! I meant Brementown... is there a poisoned well in Brementown, do you know?"
Pausing at the door, Rhys just shakes his head. "A sad and empty town, yes. A spooky watchtower, yes. A stream and a mill, yes. But a poisoned well, no."
Trystan nods softly at the departing courier. Brisa sighs softly, looking faintly disappointed, "Ah well. Thank you anyways, Rhys." She frowns thoughtfully to herself as he leaves, gathering her own equipment.
Benedict perks up again. A watchtower referred to as 'spooky?' Good thing we're going in the other direction! He blinks then, and consults a map of the region in his head. Oh, blast... and he mentally adds a few more choice phrases he hadn't learned in the novicery. They will be passing through Brementown. Nuts.