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Turn 171.0: Riding to Daltford

Posted: 1/27/02

"That was a hell of a ride," Emma comments. She busies herself with helping Storm prepare the fire. They could all certainly use the extra warmth. Her fingers feel so cold inside her gloves that her arms are shaking. Or is that just the adrenaline finally wearing off from the dangerous encounter with the Caerloon soldiers and the Red Dragon wizard? She mentally shrugs. It should wear off soon, or so she hopes.

"Crayne?" she asks, "How are you eyes? " She comes close to her friend and examines him. "Total blackout? No dimness or blurred vision instead?"

From a short distance away from the campsite, Skandor carefully looks over each horse, preparing them for their break. If their mounts should falter, it would make traversing the hostile enemy territory all the more difficult.

He pauses as Emma speaks to Crayne, wanting to hear the answer from the mage. His concern for the mage surprised him: he had been the one Skandor had trusted the least, all this time, but they had been together long enough now that he had become concerned with all of them. He cast a glance towards El, as well, and was pleased to see the hardy elf hanging onto life.

"It's as I feared," Emma explains to Crayne, "The condition will last for sometime, I'm afraid, unless I can prepare a special prayer and divine favor from Anhur. Don't worry, Highbrow. I think Anhur rather approved of how you decimated those soldiers back there. He'll cure your blindness in the morning. Just have faith in that, okay?"

She smiles, knowing that Crayne will wrestle with that concept. He still sees magic as springing from the same source. So Anhur's power to him is still nothing more than an different way of tapping the same energy he used to send a lightning bolt into their enemies. The priestess disagrees with that view, but understands his reasoning well enough. It feels rather invigorating to know that she could perform another miracle on Anhur's behalf that might help open the wizard's eyes to the divine. She smiles again and looks at Skandor. "Everything's going to be okay," she says.

From his position away from the group and amongst the horses, Skandor's chuckle most likely went unheard. Crayne, have "faith" in any sort of divine power? Ha!

Crayne grunts at Emma. He rubs his hands and then warms them by the fire. He pauses a moment and then says quietly, "You must excuse my poor manners Emma. This blindness has rendered me pretty much useless and totally dependant on you and the rest of the Six. It is a feeling I have spent most of my life trying to avoid after what happened to my parents. I t always brings back haunting memories.

"Anyhow!" Crayne says, "I do not wish to depress you with my problems. How is Elloharin? I feel that I let him down a lot during the last battle. As we agreed back at El-Balans, he would be in my care for the moment, until we could shed some more light on his background, and free a little of that burden that weighs so heavily upon his shoulders. Well, I fear that so far I have done a poor job. In future I will be more wary and make sure that I am there for him both as a friend to confide in and as a partner in battle.

"The struggle for these rings is getting harder all the time Emma. That last mage we faced was so strong in magic. My magic had no effect on him and neither did the ring. I fear for us Emma! I fear for us a lot this night! We must proceed with a great deal of caution in future. Caerloon will be alerted to our presence now, and I fear the full might of the Red Dragon School will be on our trail." Crayne lets out a deep breath. He picks up on the breeze whistling through the trees and shudders for a moment.

"Wonderful," Hannibal mutters in disgust. "So far I'm 0-2 in fights with mages." The thought of lightning bolts and flaming attacks still haunts Hannibal. Quietly the thief moves off and locates his bedroll, ready to turn in until his watch comes up.

Storm is still rather antsy around camp, though his weariness seems to calm his nerves. He walks up to Emma and gets her attention by tapping her on the shoulder (a good nine inches or so above his head) with a bony finger. "Hey Emma, uh...er, when ye be castin' yer spell ta make Crayne's eyes better, can ye get me in there too? I's don't know what weird curse that stinkin' mage be puttin' on me head." He pauses for a moment, then continues, softer, so only Emma can hear. "I's never been hit by no magic like that before. It was...eh...creepy. I'd ain't likin' it one bit."

Storm's eyes betray a worry, and the worst kind: a kind of worry that is completely beyond one's understanding. Storm wanting nothing more than have someone knowledgeable in something like this to ensure he would return to complete normalcy. The sooner Emma could cast a dispel magic on him the better...

Before going to bed, Storm spends a little while inspecting his dagger and armor, asking Canter's advice on the quality of his leather. He also makes sure to get his dagger back from Hannibal. He spends extra time inspecting his new, magical blade, simply admiring its perfection and beauty. Then, whenever the watches are set and people begin heading off for the night, Storm settles into a nice, deep sleep, awaiting his own turn on the watch.

When he is done prepping the horses for the evening, Skandor feeds their fire a few more sticks as he prepares to take the first watch. "I shall wake you in a few hour's time, Emma. Sleep well until then," he says softly as the others prepare to bed down for the night. The cold, crisp night breeze is more than enough to keep him awake, but to make sure he remains alert and aware, while the others sleep, Skandor slowly walks through various battle routines on the outskirts of the camp, well within sight of the camp. When the fire shows any signs of burning low, he adds another log or two to keep the flames warm and bright.

Quite often, he stares out into the darkness, and wonders what foes might lurk there.

Elloharin passes a terrifying night. Wounded and weak, he sinks in and out of consciousness while a terrible fever begins to consume him. He remembers little of the discussion. He remembers Emma's cool hand on his brow, and Crayne's watchful glare. But little else. In his tortured sleep, faces slip in and out of his mind. He can see her clearly now, she's his sister, and she's in terrible danger, but more than that he cannot remember. A demonic laughing fills his ears, and he keeps murmuring aloud, "She needs my help. They all need my help. I need to go help them. My people need me. Let me go! LET ME GO!"

He struggles, sweating and crying as Crayne holds him down. At one point, the Dimmed wakes up enough to recognize the mage sitting over him. "Crayne," he whispers. "Crayne, my people are in danger--" he breaks off, coughing, "the elves, Crayne. The elves. The elves need our help." Coughing fitfully, he returns to his semi-conscious stupor.

At some point during the night and the trading of watches, Emma stands guard and pokes at the fire, keeping the flames going. She looks around at the sleeping faces of her comrades, bundled up in their blankets and bedrolls against the fierce cold. 'At least we're heading south,' Emma thinks to herself, 'Maybe it'll get warmer by the time we reach the coast?'

Finally, the time arrives to go and wake Hannibal, next in line to stand watch. She pads softly toward the bedroll. The thief stirs as he hears her coming, his senses too attuned for survival to miss her approach. She drops down to one knee and touches his shoulder. "It's time," she whispers, "Are you okay? If you want, I can go another watch. You look like you could use the extra sleep." Indeed the priestess looks worn out too, but her concern for everyone's safety seems to keep driving her onward.

Hannibal smiles wearily and shakes his head. "I wouldn't think of depriving you of your beauty rest, priestess." Sitting up Hannibal rubs his eyes before taking a drink of water. Looking back up at the priestess he hesitates, letting his gaze fall on her for several moments. "Get your rest Emma, tomorrow is another exciting day."

In the morning, Emma awakens bright and early, poking the coals back into life so they can have a hot breakfast for once. As the others begin to stir, she checks their wounds once more. And, after preparing the appropriate rituals and prayers, she blesses Elloharin, Storm, and Crayne.

(OOC: Cast Cure Moderate Wounds on El, restoring 8 hp; Cure Light Wounds on Storm, restoring 3 hp; and Cure Blindness on Crayne.)

The healing spell passes over Elloharin's frayed body, like a cool shower. His fever gone, leaves his legs shaking, and his head rapidly clearing in the cold winter morning. After the others have explained to him what happened, the elf bows his head. "Once again, once again, not there when I was needed."

Crayne awakes from his slumber, savouring the smells of a cooked breakfast. Rubbing his eyes, Crayne quickly acknowledges the fact that he was still blind. Reaching for his staff he looks about for some assistance. It is not long before Canter comes to his aid, tapping the mage on his arm, and telling him a joke to try and lift his spirits. Crayne appreciates Canter's regard and lets him know it.

As the two of them make there way towards the fire, they are approached by Emma, the priestess. Crayne speaks up, "Breakfast smells delicious!" Crayne says, "It has been a while since I have smelt such appealing scents. Probably, the last time was when I was back in Halen with Melli."

After the group has enjoyed fulfillment from the early breakfast Emma proceeds in casting Cure Blindness on him. Much to her disappointment, the spell fails to remove the curse, so she tries again, this time with Dispel Magic. Thankfully, that attempt is successful.

Crayne slowly opens his eyes, blinking at first, and then adjusting them to the bright light. His eyes immediately begin to water and sting. However, Crayne ignores the pain and a big smile sweeps across his face. In fact he jumps in the air dropping his staff behind him. He runs up to Emma and hugs her, "I don't think that I have ever been so pleased to see you!" he says as he hugs her again. He then turns to Canter and shakes his hand warmly and then taps Storm on the head. Storm looks up at the mage with horror. Crayne quickly realises his mistake and apologises to the dwarf, who grunts and mutters under his breath. Crayne, though, is to jubilant to worry over the dwarf's complaints. He stretches his aching muscles as a massive burden is lifted from his shoulders.

As Emma casts her dispel blindness on Crayne, Storm makes sure he gets as close as he can to Crayne, also hoping to receive the spell's healing effects. He is, of course, oblivious to the fact that the spell will specifically only cure blindness, but that's hardly important to Storm. He just needs the dispelling for superstitious reasons. He also thanks Emma for her healing spell.

"Well?" the Shield Maiden addresses the group, "Let's work our way further south and then swing a little more westward over time so that we come back onto the road. It'll be easier traveling that way and the time we spend off the road should fool our pursuers...if there are any."

"Sound advice, Shield Maiden," Skandor says as he prepares the mounts for departure.

Crayne nods in agreement, "That sounds good to me! Perhaps it may be worth sending one of us a little ahead to act as a scout. I could cast them invisible if you like!" Crayne suggests raising an eyebrow, looking to the warriors in the group, particularly Storm and Skandor for approval.

"Crap on a stick!" Hannibal curses. "I guess I would be best suited for such a role eh?" Hannibal begins to gather his things and pack his horse as Crayne and Emma's conversation turns to the scroll. When they finish he speaks up. "I'll take a one mile lead. If you see my arrow hit the ground in your vicinity that means I am in trouble. Otherwise just watch our rear to make sure we aren't followed. Agreed?"

At the suggestion of an advanced scout, Hannibal offers to do so before Storm can, but another idea occurs to Storm. He clears his throat. "Ahem...er...uh, if they's be followin' us, we's probably be good at keeping a back scout, too. I's can do that, in case them bastards be chasin' us from the rearrrr..." He trails off, scratches his head in thought, then spits to the side and shrugs, waiting for an opinion.

"Oh! I almost forgot," Emma says, rummaging into her pack and pulling forth the scrolls she had stolen from the Caerloon barracks, "I found this on my way to rescue you guys. What do you make of it?" She hands the papers to Crayne first, as a small test to see how his eyesight has improved.

Crayne smiles at Emma. His eyesight was still adjusting, but he could still, just about, make out the writing upon the scrolls. He carefully reads through the small passage, occasionally grunting and scratching his chin.

The scroll reads: "Rendhuran Klest -- Andoran forces continue to advance on Cahra Outpost. Captured and interrogated messengers reveal the Andorans have deciphered his majesty's code and will continue their offensive beyond just Cahra. I fear they will pursue my men and I in our retreat back across the sea. I fear they have the means by which to continue to threaten the King's lands. I fear the Central Kingdom, itself will come under direct attack within weeks, certainly before the dawn of spring. In your last message you alluded to the great power of the Rings of Damacht, and the newly available means to acquiring them. I implore you, Rendhuran, to seize whatever opportunity Nesfharu has granted you, for I fear the power of the Rings of Damacht, yet I fear more that their power may one day be our only means of defeating the Andorans."

As he concludes the scroll, Emma then hands Crayne the thin piece of black wood with a small ring of red painted on each end. 'What was this?' Crayne wondered to himself. He takes a closer look at the piece of wood. At first he lifts it to his nose and smells it seeing if he can identify any sort of scent coming from it. He then examines its full length by running his index finger along it looking for any sort clue as to what it might be.

After a few moments Crayne turns to Emma, "You have done well here Emma. Although vague, this message could be most important. It seems as though another party has been dragged into this conflict. The Andorans, whoever they may be. Thus, Caerloon are fighting a war on two fronts. That is never a wise course. From this information I believe Caerloon could well be in some disarray. Perhaps this explains why it has been so quiet along the border recently between Rinder and Caerloon. Their attention has been diverted by these Andorans.

"I fear though that this will do our quest for the Ring of Fire Command little good as it seems to me that we'll be walking into a battle field when we head south. I can only presume that Cahra is some outpost off the southern coast near the city of Cahren. This is just a hunch, but it could well mean that as we head further south we will cross paths with more of the Caerloon army."

Crayne then turns his attention to the piece of wood, "As to this!" Crayne says, "I have little idea as to what this could be. Perhaps some symbol of authenticity - I don't know. Was there anything else you found? Was it just the scroll and the piece of wood?" Crayne asks raising his brow. Emma holds up one measly coin.

"I see. Well then, I will see if this here shows any signs of magic." Crayne then concentrates as he attempts to sense any magical emanations from the small cylindrical piece of wood. As his eyes adjust to the hues of the auras around him, he can quickly and clearly see a magical one in this item. What kind of magic, exactly, is difficult to tell.

As Crayne finishes and Hannibal mounts his steed, ready to ride ahead, they turn toward the river, with its cold currents, flowing before them. Emma is just about to cast a spell on her horse (Endure Cold) to help it wade through the waters, when Crayne stops her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Allow me," he says, fingering the Ring of Water Command on his hand. "Waters, I command you to part!" he shouts.

Nothing happens.

"Part! I command thee!" he shouts again, his robe billowing in the cold breeze.

Nothing happens.

"Crayne?" Elloharin says, his voice hoarse but stronger than last night, "perhaps try ice? It worked in the battle against those Blood Clan..."

Crayne nods as he listen to the elf and then turns back to the river, pointing to the water. He is about to speak, but before he can even get the words out, the river's surface begins to solidify in solid ice. Within moments it is hard as rock, strong enough for the horses to cross.

"Well done, Crayne," Emma says, patting him on the shoulder with a smile from atop her mount. And so off they ride, with Hannibal scouting ahead and Storm behind, heading south through the Caerloon wilderness on a cool winter's morning.

The day's ride is uneventful, save a stop for lunch, and dinner. By evening, camp is made, watches are set, and Rinder's Six rests in preparation for the following day's continued journey. In the morning, the day proceeds much the same. The landscape begins to shift away from wooded forest and into rolling hills. And when the clouds part, Rinder's Six can see the top of a lone, tall mountain to the east, with two smaller mounts at its side.

On the following day, just before dusk, the party reaches a road, which runs northeast-southwest. Looking at the map, Emma nods. By the light of the campfire (camp is made a few hundred yards from the road, far enough to stay out of trouble from highway bandits and the like), Emma plots their travels with Canter, following their river crossing and journey through the Turt Hills.

"Riding on the road, it will likely take us another day and a half to reach this town," she says to the others, tracing the road southwest to where it intersects with the main north-south road. There are the crossroads is a red dot on the canvas, indicating some sort of settlement. "We'll want to stock up on rations, since we're getting low, and maybe gather some intelligence."

Crayne nods, as he looks up from the small wooden rod he continues to be fascinated with, "a good idea! I could use a real meal and a night inside, not camping in this wilderness!"

"Information could be valuable, especially if we can tell where the Caerloon troops are massing," Skandor says, ever thinking strategy.

Night falls and they rest. The following day the ride is easier, as they are now on the road, heading southwest into the area marked on the map as the "Kingdom of Sinele." The whole day is spent on the road, where they pass very few other riders. At nightfall, camp is made once again. The following day the journey continues once more, and around noon the small city appears in the distance.

The group rides into town, taking in the sights. It has been quite a few days since they've seen civilization! It is a moderately bustling city, nowhere near the size of Parton, Seden, or Merriam. But larger than a small town like Nickton. There are a number of bakers, candlestick-makers, armorers, taverns, and other small shops. Children play in the street with a small ball of cloth, filled with seeds. A mild breeze rolls through the streets, seeming downright warm compared to the frigid winds of north.

By late afternoon Rinder's Six has made it to the small city's central square, where the northeast-southwest road meets the north-south road. There stand a collection of tall stone buildings, five in total. Some appear similar to the one in which Rendhuran Klest captured the party, but larger. Others appear more like temples of various kinds. The street is quite busy by now, with shopkeepers, maids, children, men, and soldiers. A large number of soldiers. They don't appear to be marching in any kind of formation, it's more like soldiers on leave, mingling with the crowds, seeing the local sights, biding their time.

The group ties up the mounts at the nearest tavern and inn, the "Ye Daltford Tavern" as the sign above the door says. It is a large place, with three fireplaces along the various walls and a sizeable bar. The many tables are scattered around the room, and there are two staircases leading upwards to the second floor, presumably to rooms for those staying the night. The patrons are a mix of local folk, artisans, soldiers, and other travelers.

At one table appears to be a party of travelers. There are five of them in total: a human woman, two human men, an elven woman and a halfling male. One of the men wears a sword on his back, over his shoulder much like Storm's and Skandor's swords. The other human man is robed, with lean features and a pale face, but a short-trimmed red beard. Canter smiles as his eyes fall upon them. They appeared just like Rinder's Six must sometimes appear: travelers, weary from the road, but in good spirits, happy to indoors drinking good mead.

At another table is a collection of dwarves, complete with their long beards and empty goblets of ale. They are loud and rowdy. A stack of axes sits on the floor nearby.

At another table is a group of elves, six in total. They are quiet, observing the rest of the room. A few narrow their eyes as the table of dwarves erupts in disturbingly loud laughter. A few others watch the patrons sitting at the bar--at least fifteen of them, of various types--while one looks over Rider's Six as they slowly make their way in the door.

"Welcome to Daltford, mates!" the barkeep shouts from behind his bar, over the noise of the room.

As the barkeep speaks, Skandor can't help but notice the human man sitting with the table of travelers. He is looking Skandor's way, with a curiously familiar expression on his face. As their eyes meet, this man looks back to his friends, smiling as he rejoins the conversation.

Hannibal looks over to him and smiles, nodding.

"What can I get ye? Good ale? Wine and cheese? Dinner fer yer party? Lodgings for the night?"

---

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