Book 1 - Chapter 1: Under the Harvest Moons

[Asta]

Location: Telan
Date: Sehstam 22, Mittdey, 795
Time: 13:00


It is the first day of the Harvest Festival, the last tepid days of Sehstam will soon give way to Oaeksaber and the crispness of autumn. Thus, after several days earlier in the week spent harvesting crops it's now time for the community to gather together and celebrate the harvest and relax for the last few days of warmer weather. Before long it will be time to turn to foraging and hunting to build up the last stocks of food for winter, and after that the dreaded Dark Time.

The village has spent the better part of the morning setting up tents and stalls and bringing out large barrels of Brewer MacKerrig's famous Sommer ale. You can practically taste the bright hoppy brew already, and anticipate the drinking competition that happens every year. In another few hours the village square will be alive with the sounds of celebration and the smells of delicious foods. A handful of travelers that stopped in town specifically for the festival are all sitting outside the local tavern, "The Cock's Tail", watching the commotion from its porch. There are a handful of stalls that still need setting up and could use some help, but it's not required.

[pringerbeam]

     "How quaint."  Remarked Thedrin as he lounged at a table that had been set up outside.  "Dear uncle, what did you say the festival was called? The harvest festival?  How low class. What a shame I'm here drinking the local... wine. If you could call it such." He looked at the dregs of his drink in it's simple wooden cup before letting out a long sigh. "To think, right about now Witching Eve preparations are beginning back home. Food, magic, feasts, costumes... oh Sehdra Greebough, she always had the most scandalous costumes. Just enough for the imagination to fill out what her most plentiful bosom did not, and so easily removed too..."  Thedrin trailed off as his eyes, fixed on the horizon, glazed over.

[Throndir]

Rhenri's Home
Earlier

The reflection that stared back at her was someone Rhenri came to recognize. The neat hair, the tidy clothes, the slight amount of makeup; all serving to draw one's attention to the red piercing eyes that usually found itself darting back and forth paying close attention to her surroundings. It had been years since she first stumbled into town, fairly disheveled, wrapped up in a heavy cloak, having no place of her own. And years before that her life was even more completely different. She would have never guessed that she would end up laying low in the village of Telan.

"You're lookin' awful fine Ri." Rhenri said, throwing herself a wink and emphasizing the accent she was using. She paused as she thoughtfully considered her words. "... Or should I say 'mighty fine'?" Rhenri asked the mirror. She wasn't at all a very good actor, and she wasn't completely sure either if anyone actually bought her accent either, after all, it was just something she heard from back in the city and was simply emulating it to the best of her abilities. But that was all just mighty fine for her. As long as she separated herself from who she used to be, that was all she wanted.

She still had some reservations of course. This was the first year she would be participating in the Harvest Festival. The first few years of her life in the village, she instead would simply hole herself up in her home. But because she was trying to output a cheerful personality and even got to know townsfolk in the village, it would be even more strange if she didn't show up in any fashion. Still though, she at least hoped Scathach would be there. They weren't particularly close, but at least among the rest of the villagers, she felt more at ease around the village's local ranger, perhaps due to the fact that they've spent some time already hunting together, and making her own meager living through that. Either way, she had already made the decision to participate in the festival, and once a decision made, a decision to follow through. Plus things were starting to get comfortable living here in Telan.

Straightening the heavy cloak on her back, hiding her black wings, Rhenri grabbed her longbow and quiver. The feel of the bow was comforting in her hands.

She could be comfortable, sure. But that didn't mean she would go defenseless.

Village Square
Present

A wide-brimmed hat and a heavy cloak, Rhenri might have looked out of place in the village. The weather was still warm of course, so the cloak would have really stood out more. More often than not, it was a choice of wear for travelers for any potential weather or rain. But for Rhenri, the cloak was always part of her identity. Even when she lived in the city mastering the martial arts and honing her skills as a future assassin, she wore a similar cloak to hide her wings, which arguably, was an easier way to identify her.

Right now however, she wasn't Lisra, an outcast of Valtz Zitadelle trained in assassination arts. At this moment, she was Rhenri. A simple but friendly villager living in the outskirts of Telan. With that in mind, Rhenri took a deep breath and focused her attention to the villagers around her.

"Afternoon!" Rhenri would say, tipping her hat, grinning wide, and winking whenever she would notice someone stare.

[info]Rhenri scans the crowd or stalls for Scathach, to see if the ranger has her own stall that she could help in.[/info]

[Asta]

Thedrin:

Bregan cocked an eyebrow at his nephew. "Yet you're drinking it anyway, aren't you?"

He took a pull from his own mug, filled with a cloudy wheat ale, then smacked his lips in satisfaction. "This is an important event Thed," he said setting the mug back down, "The people here work hard all year to provide for their community, the sweat of their labor goes into everything they make. This festival is as much a chance to relax as it is a chance to take pride in their work."

"It may not have the elegance, or refinement of an Albion gala... But it is an honest celebration for an honest folk. Not a chance to stab another in the back for small gains, or lord your opulence over another in spite." As he spoke he made it clear he found the grand galas of his homeland to be anything but "elegant" or "refined". "Perhaps one day you might come to see this for yourself."

He finished the rest of his ale in a single large swallow, as if to punctuate his opinions on refinement, then stood and dusted his noticeably calloused hands on his trousers. "Come with me though, we're showing off that big black destrier tonight before we send him off as a gift to the Righ. I'll need your help keeping him under control." Bregan made a motion indicating you should follow. "Won't take long, the festival should be underway by the time we get back. Maybe you'll meet a nice girl dancing in the square?" He gave a mischievous wink and a sly smile as he started to walk.



Rhenri:

"Oi! What's the craic!?"

The woman's voice, thick with brogue, came from behind you. Scathach had managed to sneak up on you somehow and was now less than three paces away. "Been lookin' al' over for yer!" The slender girl rested her hands on her hips, head cocked at an angle, and smiled wide. "Tart yer might miss it again this year, but oi'm glad ter see yeh show up!"

Scathach, in your experience, was an animated and unflappable woman. She rattled on a moment in her inscrutable accent about the stalls and the food she thought you should try, as her auburn hair bobbed about with every exaggerated mannerism. She wore it in a braid today, which left her slightly pointed ears, a clear indicator of her mixed bloodline, exposed.

"So anyway, as oi wus sayin'... Tanner MacBreid 'as somethin' for yer. Towl me ter brin' yer raun if oi saw yer about." She reached to take your hand, ignoring your personal space as she so often did, to drag you off to the tanner's stall. "C'mon, we 'enny got al' day or we'll miss the best grub!"

[pringerbeam]

     "I drink the wine because I will not stoop to crude beer like some peasant. I don't know how you manage to drink that stuff by the mug like it's water."  He said, standing as he finished his wine and passing the empty vessel off to his tail to set it down on the counter the tavern that had been set up to serve the festival goers. "I've only been here a few months but I've had enough time to realize that the women of this town are too rustic for one such as myself." He said with a quick looking over of one such rustic girl that they passed. His eyes lingering on a shapely bosom that would have posed an upstart challenge to even Sehdra Greenbough's and an impressive derriere that could only have been produced by work that couldn't be found on the cushion of a regal salon. " Ahem, not to say there isn't a wild charm to the local women. Much like your horses, they have... well developed assets.  Must be something in the local well water."He straightened his doublet and rested a hand on his sword pommel before continuing. "I do hope the Righ takes notice of this horse though. It could be my ticket out of this village. Perhaps a knighthood could be arranged. Once they get an idea of my noble lineage, I'm sure they would take notice and grant me an appropriate title."

[Oath]

Cecilia had decided to take a break from her research and wander about the town, taking in the sights of the harvest festival with an ale in hand. She had seen similar sights back home, but this festival had a bit of a different feeling. She could see the pride and hard work that resulted in each stall. She stuck around each stall for a while, admiring the goods and listening to the stories that the people had to tell about what they do or what went into the harvest festival. Her thrush, Chester perched on her shoulder cocking his head and looking around at each passerby but holding his tongue.

Sure are a lot of odd folk around. Guess they must be here for the festival. A bunch of them probably have some interesting stories or may know something about ruins. With that, Cecilia decided her primary goal for the festival would be to find a new lead.

[Throndir]

Village Square
Present

[info]What does Rhenri know about Tanner MacBreid?

[blockquote]Intelligence 1d20-1 : 16 - 1, total 15[/blockquote][/info]

[Asta]

Rhenri:

[info]
Int 15:
MacBreid is a tanner and leather-worker that makes his home in Telan. He's a burly, balding middle aged man with an agreeable personality. In your stint hunting with Scathach you have sold him hides obtained from your kills before. He always pays a fair price for what you bring him.[/info]



Thedrin:

Bregan shrugged and sighed. "You stay that picky and you'll miss out on some nice things in life Thed."

It was a short walk to where a pair of your uncle's horses were hitched; as you walked along Bregan didn't try to press his opinions on the finer parts of humble living, though he did smile slightly at your not-so-subtly veiled admission of finding the village girls attractive. The horses, a pair of bay geldings were munching on tufts of grass where they had been tied up. One raised its head slowly to whicker when the pair of you approached. Bregan didn't waste much time untying the one he road into town, and swung himself up in the saddle with an ease implying years of practice.

"I think it might take more than a strong horse to gain a knighthood... Things are... Very different from Albion here, and yet in many ways quite the same. Perhaps when we head north after the festival I can introduce you to some people I'm acquainted with in the Foirbeiseach clan; they're close with the ruling family and the Righ." As he spoke you could see Bregan's expression begin to droop some, a hint of sadness finding its way into his brow. "We'll discuss it later though, we've a quarter mile ride back to the estate and I'd like to ensure we return here before the sun sets."



Cecilia:

The enticing smell of roasting mutton and other festival foods seemed to envelope you as you made your way through the stalls. On occasion you'd spot a vendor proffering something that looked interesting but on closer inspection you'd find the displayed "magic" artifacts and treasure maps to be no more than forgeries. It seems even in a town like Telan a festival would draw its fair share of charlatans.

As you passed by one particular stall however, a peddler you'd not noticed before called out to you.

"Miss! Miss! Yes! You, with the bird on her shoulder! Come, come! I have something you may find of interest!"

The merchant, dressed distinctly different from the usual garb of a Thuinich peddler was waving in your direction. More than his odd clothes, you noted that his eyebrows had an... abnormal length to them, long enough to have them pulled back and hooked over his ears. His stall, was overcrowded with an impressive array of leather bound books of various sizes and colors.

"You seem the scholarly sort Young Miss, I have here some very rare books, incredibly rare, quite precious! Tomes of knowledge most ancient you see! Geographies, histories, knowledge arcane and mundane!" The merchant cast a furtive glance up and down the row of stalls before looking back at you with a wink. "Local landmarks. Including certain... ruins...?"

[pringerbeam]

     "Hm? Oh yes, what kind of title fits this Foirbeiseach family?"  Replied Thedrin somewhat absentmindedly as he watched another village girl bend over as she tied down a stall canopy to a stake in the ground. He looked over to his uncle waiting on his horse. "Ah yes, let's ride. Hopefully we can get back soon enough that there's still some of that wine left from that the merchant who brought it in from out of town. The local vintage is just so paltry.  Maybe sample some of the local... desserts."  He said as he pulled himself onto his own horse, his eyes drifting back to the village girl as she stood to pull a stray lock of hair back, her chest puffing in and out from her work setting up the stall.

[Oath]

Looking over the books, Cecilia wanted them all. She knew it wasn't practical but she couldn't help it. The man running the stall, as peculiar as he was made the decision easier for her.

"A book about this particular region you say? Do you know anything more about it?"

[Throndir]

Village Square
Present

"Hold your horses Scathach!" Rhenri started to complain, "Ya know Ah caint keep up." She said jokingly as she firmly pressed down on her hat to prevent it from falling off as she was dragged away. Rhenri was rather flummoxed, but grinned anyways when the ranger came to get her. Such was the case whenever she would be around the local ranger, though she supposed that she should have gotten used to it by now.

"Didya find out what he wanted to fetch me?" Rhenri asked curiously, keeping pace with the ranger.

[Asta]

Thedrin:

"Title? You should have paid more attention to your studies, than ladies backsides." Bregan softened the jab with a playful smile. "The leading families of Thuinich don't dole out grandiose and largely meaningless titles the way they do in Albion. A handful of powerful families, or clans as they prefer, steward the different regions of the Steppe. The person in charge is simply the head of the clan. They all swear fealty to the Righ, Lachlann Marr, and the Marr's hold sway over all the others; in theory anyway."

He paused to pat his horse as you rode out of Telan proper, heading for the estate and its stables.

"The Foirbeiseach's are probably the third most powerful clan on the Steppe, but they are very close to the Righ's due to their assistance in the War of the Wolves some 200 years ago." He pondered a moment before continuing, "I suppose, if you had to, you'd call anyone that was part of the main family of a clan a noble. They don't use the distinction themselves that though, too posh a word."

With that, he spurred his horse into a gallop once you'd cleared the last of the paved road out of town.



Cecilia:

"Do I ever young miss!" The peddler said with a grin, tugging the tome in question from a stack of other books which teetered precariously before settling. The book was bound in leather, dyed dark green, and was rather unassuming. It had no mark on the outer cover to indicate what it was about, and if you had to guess you would think it no more special than the last hundred manuscripts you'd seen.

"This here..." he paused for effect, "Is an original copy of Aodhan Cuairt's Observations on the Tombs and Runic Monoliths of Ancient Thuinich! Remarkably well preserved for being around 200 years old wouldn't you say? Hardly a scratch upon the cover, though the pages are just a tad worn. Within this manuscript are the descriptions and locations of scores of sites scattered about the Steppe; all neatly categorized and annotated. A one in a million find for one interested in such things."

He gingerly flipped the book open, to show you its contents. Within, on parchment yellowed with age were indeed drawings of monoliths and small maps indicating their locations. Before you could commit any of it to memory though he snapped the tome shut with a flourish before brushing a single finger along one of his extraordinarily long eyebrows. "All this precious knowledge, for the mere price of a single gold mark. A steal I assure you, I cannot go a copper lower. Really though, who could put a price on knowledge?"



Rhenri:

Scathach stopped a moment and put a finger to her lip and furrowed her brow in a pensive expression. "Ter tell yer the truth... Oi canny recall. Somethin' aboyt a token av appreciashun or some-such tin'."

She shrugged, again with some exaggeration. "Yer know me, I'd lose me 'ed if it weren't attached. Anyway, he could explain it better 'imself so enoof gabbin' an' let's gie 'im a visit!"

[pringerbeam]

     "No real titles? How barbaric. How then are these steppe clans supposed to gauge their relative power and influence if not for the granting of titles?"  Asked Thedrin as they rode along, "Though I guess it was King Ackur the Resplendent who said: nobility is universal and absolute. I'm sure there is some title that could be granted. If not, there could surely be an exception made for one of such distinction as myself."  He looked to the side of the road where the fields, less than a week ago golden and ripe with produce, were now barren and trampled after the harvest. "The War of the Wolves, it didn't happen to be a literal war against wolves did it? I would think that it was a properly metaphorical title as the wars back home but in a land as untamed and disorganized as this one I'm not so sure they wouldn't be faced with a crisis should a pack of worg manage to eat a flock or two of sheep."

[Oath]

Cecilia was skeptical about the authenticity of the tome, but even if it was a reproduction the information could prove to be most valuable. "I'll take it!" She smiled and flipped a gold coin deftly towards the shopkeep.

[Throndir]

Village Square
Present

There was a strange feeling deep inside Rhenri that she couldn't quite place. She let out a continued grin towards Scathach never betraying what she was actually thinking, but inward, she was far from smiling. It felt akin butterflies in your stomach, or the fleeting feeling of anxiousness. She of course couldn't help but feel suspicious as well, mainly due to the fact that if something was not in her direct control, it was something she had to carefully consider, examine, and verify that there'd be no harm to her in the end. Not that there would be something wrong with something like a 'token of appreciation', but old habits wasn't something so easily forgotten or changed.

"And if ya lost it, Ah might could be the one to help ya find it too?" Rhenri continued the joking personality as she followed Scathach to MacBreid.