It’s near dusk and Luthor emerges from a dockside tavern beside a bald headed man with the gait of sailor and rich fineries of the Free Cities. Luthor in his black leather and steel looks plain beside him, like the crow beside the parrot. Behind them follows Barion Smallwood, looking grim. The merchant laughs loudly as they step onto the street to part ways. “Very well, you shall ride the Foreign Mistress to find your missing wife,” he says with a shake of his head before extending his hand. “Come find us before the dawn tide, and we shall make our way.”
“I will,” Luthor says, sharing little of the enthusiasm of the captain.
With that the captain is off in a swirl of color and leaves Luthor and his squire to make their way towards the stables on their own. As they walk the tall youth says. “I don’t see why I can’t go,” he says.
“There must be a Smallwood at court,” Luthor replies with the tone of a man tired of repeating himself. “Besides, Tyrosh is a long way off. Now come on, we must find Farin and Alek, and let them know they will be commanding the company for a time longer than expected.”
It just so happens that Farin and his bride to be have been out riding today, perhaps as part of their most recent make-up. They come clop-clop-clopping through through the streets, Farin on his palfrey, Aurana on her indistinguishably grey horse. They are joking casually, every so often chuckling at a comment that the other makes, until they spot Luthor. “Ho, coz!” he hails his Warden, “How fares the day, ser?”
Aurana chuckles softly and shakes her head. “No wonder Urron wants to throttle you half the time,” she murmurs with amusement. As Farin calls out to Luthor, the lady’s gaze follows and immediately softens. Sympathy floods her face and worry as well as she follows her betrothed’s lead.
Luthor glances back over his shoulder as his horse is brought forth. He spies the couple and frowns before he pulls himself into the saddle. “About as well as can be expected,” Luthor answers his cousin’s hail with courtesy more customary from Ethos than Luthor. A second’s pause passes as the bastard knight controls himself. “But I had been meaning to speak with you about your command of the Kingswood. It will be longer than expected.” He turns then to Aurana and nods his head. “My lady.”
Farin frowns himself at all that. “Worse than expected, then. As you say, coz,” he murmurs, not always content with offending /everyone/. “Forgive me, ser, I forgot myself,” he adds moment later, douring all the more.
A hand reaches out to touch Farin’s arm gently, a small bit of support and comfort for him as he speaks. “Of course it will be,” she murmurs, inclining her head in return. “Farin will stay as long as you do have need of him, Ser Luthor. Has there been any news at all? I have lit candles for you and the lady at each prayer. Of course, if there is anything that you need from me, you have but to ask it.”
Luthor looks at the couple for a long moment, then nods to Farin. “No need to ask forgiveness, you’ve ample reason for good cheer,” his eyes flick to Aurana. The bastard knight looks ragged, dark circles having etched themselves under eyes that burn with an almost feral desperation. Still he bows at the lady’s kind words and promised aid. “The search of the ships has found nothing, I believe she’s already sailed for Tyrosh. I will follow in the morning.” He glances back to Farin. “You will have command of the company naturally,” then to Aurana again. “You would aid me best if you give him your every support.”
“If you need to take the Black Ram with you, coz, the Company can do without them. And I have but three men-at-arms stationed in the keep, but they are yours as well. You will not want for blades in your search,” Farin offers, trying not to add oil to the fire, though he does let the bit about good cheer go.
“He always has that,” Aurana replies with a small grin to her betrothed. “But truly, Ser Luthor, if you think of anything at all… I can tend to your servants in your absence or… Anything. I cannot imagine what you must be going through. Gods, but you must be… Tyrosh?”
Luthor nods behind him to Barion who has just mounted. “Up to the keep,” he says “Tell Leon, he will needs be ready before dawn. No drinking.” The boy gives his master a sullen look but kicks his horse into a quick trot all the same. Luthor looks back to the couple and his expression softens some. “Thank you both. It’s been a dark few days and it does not look to brighten soon. Pennei’s servant Tycella was seen about the docks the night Pennei vanished the next morning a ship bound for Tyrosh sailed. It seems likely that Pennei and her tutor were on it as well, the three are seldom apart.”
Luthor considers the offers for a moment. “My servants I’d forgotten, yes if you’d look in on them Aurana I would be pleased, thank you. And yes, I’ll take six of the Ram’s plus your men Farin…” he begins but trails off as he catches a flash of green among those making their way towards the River Gate and with a swift kick to the flank of his horse he is pushing past the couple into the press. “You!” he calls as people leap clear of the horse surging through their midst.
The focus of his call whirls about with eyes wide, her green tresses half hidden beneath a shall. For a moment, she freezes, then with the blink of her eyes she rushes towards him. “Ser, they have her, you must come quickly,” she calls out breathlessly, as she makes her way towards him in the crowd. It is Tycella, Pennei’s maid, who is by the bastard’s own account should be sailing to Tyrosh.
Farin spurs his horse forward a bit more cautiously, though it is easy enough to travel through the wake that Luthor’s steed makes through the crowd. He reaches his cousin not long after Tycella says her piece, though he does turn to watch Aurana, to see if she has followed since.
Aurana wheels her horse about, trying to follow Luthor, her own eyes widened with surprise. Hardly one to be left far behind, she follows behind Farin, bewildered and, oddly enough, apologetic to the smallfolk as they pass. “Very sorry. No harm meant, honestly…” she explains as she offers a gentle smile.
The Tyroshi woman produces a piece of parchment as she draws near Ser Luthor, and the bastard knight reaches out his hand. Though it’s not the parchment he takes hold of but her wrist. His other hand goes for his dagger. “Where is she?” he snarls, as his free hand gropes for the hilt of his dagger.
Tycella blanches and struggles to get free of his grip. “What is this!” she demands. “I bring word of her safety and demand for ransom!” her eyes flick upwards at the parchment she holds.
Around them angry murmurs break out, but as yet nobody moves to help the Tyroshi.
At the sound of the angry murmurs, Farin switches to damage control mode. “Pipe down, you lot,” he calls out. “The man’s wife is taken, and all relevant evidence points to this woman. Who had better begind speaking soon,” he directs towards the Tyroshi, “Lest she find out what it is like at the bottom of the Traitor’s tower!”
Aurana’s eyes close for a moment at Farin’s last attempt to ‘help’. She nudges her horse forward, eyes turning to Luthor. “There is no one who would fault you your anger, Ser Luthor. No one in the wide world.” Her gaze flicks to the girl, cooling ever so slightly as she continues with her gentle mien. “Of course you are frightened. You should be,” she warns. “You bring word of her safety from her kidnappers and yet you are unscathed? That means that they are either very considerate and gentle creatures or that you are in with their plans. Either way, it would go far better for you to simply tell good Ser Luthor where his wife is for my betrothed does not threaten idly.”
Tears run down the Tyroshi’s woman’s face, as she regards the pale haired lady. “I have no part in their plans m’lady, I am just their chosen messenger, released at the edge of the Kingswood.” She waves the parchment in her hand.
Luthor snatches it and gives it a look. “You should have left me more gold, if they expect me to pay this sum,” he says looking hard at Tycella. “Where is Pennei!” he bends her wrist back far enough the women lets out a cry. Favoring the crowd with more tears.
“In the Kingswood. I know not where. We were blindfolded,” she sobs.
There are more grumbles from the crowd, at the back someone shouts. “Let her go!” a fist full of mud is dung splatters against Ser Luthor’s armor.
Luthor glances out angrily to find its source and in that moment the Tyroshi strikes. A little dagger barely longer than a woman’s finger flashes in the twilight and Luthor lets out a cry of pain, his hand releasing Tycella’s wrist as he grips his own blood staining his fingers. The Tyroshi doesn’t look back to examine her work, but runs full on into the crowd, bloody dagger clutched in her hand. “Seize her,” Luthor snarls.
“Nay!” cries a voice form the crowd, and it is joined by another. “Get the /Warden/!” No third voice is called, but three men do brush past the rest of the crowd, and soon draw blades, each in tandem with the order, giving a neat and orderly military look about them. “Sorry, Warden,” the one in front calls, the bald one with the hoofprint on one side of his head, “But we did promise her you were already dead.” And with the they leap forward, all three blades raised to fall on Luthor.
“Coz!” Farin bellows, kicking his palfrey into a leap. Unfortunately for Farin, palfreys are not fantastic combat beasts, and it rears back before it makes its run, bellowing a neigh into the air that steikes fear into the hearts of…well, everything around it. Farin’s charge is successful in knocking one of the armed men clear out of the way, but the other two? The other two he merely absorbs the blows of.
As the attack begins, Aurana has the good sense to begin wheeling her horse out of the way, calling out to the crowd, “Call the guard! For gods’ sake get the children back. Stand ba-” Her words are cut off, turned into a startled cry as her trusty mare reacts to the battlecry of Farin’s beast. The horrible death-whinny combined with the crowd and the sudden rush of adrenaline sends the poor animal into panic and she rears abruptly. Years of horseback riding experience takes a hit as her concern for the smallfolk has skewed her attention. Unprepared, the Buckler lady’s hands are unable to hold onto the reins as the mount rears and then darts. She falls to the ground, her head making a resounding crack upon the hard surface.
“After her!” Luthor shouts and kicks his horse into a mad pursuit of Tycella. The bandits’ blades catch him by surprise and he reaches for his own blade as they close.
Edryck attacks Luthor with his sword…
...and misses by a narrow margin!
Marbo attacks Luthor with his mass weapon…
...and strikes him with a hard blow!
Farin’s morningstar is out, and as if blades weren’t enough to scare the smallfolk, anti armor being drawn certainly isn’t a joke. “Ten dragons to the man who brings us that bitch!” he cries out, and one or two of the common folk begin to stop and look for her. The Prester lordling manages to get in the way of one of them in time to protect Luthor, raising his shield and catching the blow just in time. He wheels around, looking for Aurana, in time with her fall. “No!!!” he bellows, the bull’s rage welling within him. The crowd is too large, and there are too many swords between him and his bride to be, and so he takes it out on the nearest swordsman instead. “Die, you worthless swine fucking dirt lord! /Get out of my way!/”
Farin attacks Edryck with his mass weapon…
...and strikes him with a powerful blow!
The bandits react as bandits do. Marbo leaps forward and strikes at Luthor, hitting him hard with an axe, but it skids off without causing much damage. Jasen has his blow blocked by Farin’s shield, and Edryck misses Luthor completely. However, none of them seem phased by this, nor the Prester lordling’s ensuing berserk rage. Edryck takes the morningstar on the chin, and keeps on trucking, though he does aim at Farin. The other two concentrate on Luthor, for the time being.
A blade whistles by his head, and second hits him hard across the stomach, nearly bending him in half as his armor absorbs the blow. Then his sword of free of his scabbard and with a speed born of desperation he swings it out in a wild underhand blow at the man who struck him.
A blade whistles by Luthor’s head, and second hits him hard across the stomach, nearly bending him in half as his armor absorbs the blow. Then his sword of free of his scabbard and with a speed born of desperation he swings it out in a wild underhand blow at the man who struck him.
Pain burns through Edryck where the ‘star hit home. The man brushes tears from his eyes and with an angry cry throws himself at the Prester knight eager to return the favor.
Luthor attacks Marbo with his sword…
...and strikes him with a swift blow!
Edryck attacks Farin with his sword…
...with no result as the two warriors battle!
Jasen attacks Luthor with his mass weapon…
...and strikes him with a shattering blow!
Luthor is driven from the saddle!
The Prester lordling’s luck just isn’t there today; already injured from a terrible duel, his lady falling before him, and unseen in his peripheral, his boss and cousin takes a hefty blow…“Boot licking pox ridden grime eyed yellow bellied whoresons!” Farin rages, wheeling about, looking for a clear route to Aurana. With none there, he simply attacks again.
Farin attacks Edryck with his mass weapon…
...and strikes him with a swift blow!
The bandits do their dirty work alright. The one called Jasen slams forward into Luthor, with just the blunt end of his axe, after he misses on a swing with the blade. Edryck takes another blow from Farin, faster than it is hard, and Marbo bobs and weaves for no, ready to strike…
Luthor feels his blade strike true, but then from out of nowhere, a flash of light, pain, and the feeling of falling. The cobble muck and stone of the street rush up to meet him and before a crash of body and steel meeting the ground fills his ears before he blacks out entirely.
Edryck’s blade meets the haft of Farin’s morning star and the bandit draws his blade back to strike again only to be kissed by the ‘star again. The man staggers back, his jerken of boiled leather, ripped by the points of the weapon. He snarls and comes at Farin again, blade flashing.
Edryck attacks Farin with his sword…
...and merely strikes a glancing blow!
Marbo attacks Farin with his mass weapon…
...with no result as the two warriors battle!
Jasen attacks Farin with his sword…
...and strikes him with a powerful blow!
A man chances upon this scene. Sat astride a black destrier, fully armoured in training plate, was Ser Alek Reyne. Having came straight this way from the training yards to speak to Farin, the man hadn’t changed his garb, but his axe wasn’t a blunted tourney weapon. He snarls, spotting the scene, Farin bravely fending off three bandits, and kicks the sides of his horse to force it to gallop towards them. He roars, his axe swinging for the nearest bandit in range.
Alek attacks Jasen with his mass weapon…
...and strikes him with a swift blow!
The bandits give a whoop and a holler as Luthor goes down, before turning thier attentions on the remaining knight. “The little nancy thinks he can take us, eh?” Marbo calls, swinging forward, and missing as Farin wheels about to deny the attack. This brings him just within range of Edryck, who snarls, “Everyone knows the dep’dy tain’t's grand as th’ ward’n! Give up, you miserable fop!” he cries out, swinging…and barely clipping Farin as he wheels about further, trying desperately to sustain himself. “Just shut up and kill the runt!” Jasen bellows, leaping forward towards Farin at the end, and smashing him with the blunt end of his axe again, finally dealing some damage.
“Cowards! Cravens! Mongrel filth!” Farin continues to yell, fully charged on adrenaline now. “I will cut you all nose to cock for this! /You will rue this day!/” ...it really doesn’t sound as heroic as he thinks it does, but really, who manages that while they’re being ganged on this badly?
Farin attacks Edryck with his mass weapon…
...and strikes him with a swift blow!
Jasen’s victory is short lived, as his axe smashes home on Farin, Alex’s axe smashes home on him. The man twists with the force of the blow and swings wildly with his weapon trying to knock the new attack from his mount.
Another love tap from the morning star sends Edryck skittering back cursing the bloody weapon for all it’s worth. He slashes at Farin’s face in reply ducking back into range.
Jasen attacks Alek with his sword…
...and strikes him with a shattering blow!
Edryck attacks Farin with his sword…
...and has his blow intercepted by Farin’s shield.
Again, the bandits are giddy as their prey taunts them. Marbo laughs as Edryck continues to be beaten in inches by the Prester lordling, and leaps forward to show him how it’s done.
Marbo attacks Farin with his mass weapon…
...and strikes him with a swift blow!
Alek is winded as the bandit’s counterstrike strikes true. “Craven filth!” The old lion roars, Jasen’s actions seem to have incensed the Reyne knight’s rage. He brings his axe back down once again for Jasen once his seat is secured again.
Alek attacks Jasen with his mass weapon…
...with no result as the two warriors battle!
Another round of blows, and all are still ahorse. Farin is saved by Alek, at least for the moment, and concetrates on the two before him. “Bleed!” he cries again, “Bleed or get out of my way!”
Farin attacks Edryck with his mass weapon…
...and strikes him with a shattering blow!
Edryck is driven from the saddle!
Marbo ceases his laughing as his friend is struck down before him, a quarter of his head splattering open in a short font of blood and brain matter. It sprays him and Farin both, who gains a wilder look about him. “By the fucking Father,” Marbo chokes out, falling back an inch. “You bloody bastard! You killed Edryck!” he growls, leaping forward to attack Farin anew. On the other side, Jasen dances away from Alek. “Pity, old man. You won’t be as fun to kill as the warden was,” he grins, darting forward to deliver a slice.
There is the sickening impact of metal meeting flesh and blood splatters across Farin’s face as Edryck falls not to rise again.
Marbo attacks Farin with his mass weapon…
...and strikes him with a hard blow!
Farin is driven from the saddle!
Jasen attacks Alek with his sword…
...and strikes him with a hard blow!
Alek is rocked back in the saddle by Jasen’s blow, but manages to keep his seat!
Weathering the bandit’s axe, Alek swings his in return desperate to even up the odds.
Alek attacks Jasen with his mass weapon…
...and strikes him with a hard blow!
Jasen is driven from the saddle!
Marbo attacks Alek with his mass weapon…
...and strikes him with a hard blow!
Alek is rocked back in the saddle by Marbo’s blow, but manages to keep his seat!
Marbo, failing to finish off the man who needlessly slaughtered his friends, retreats, bathed in blood.
Jasen rears back, and launches himself again after rocking Alek like a skiff in a storm. But just before his blow connects, Alek Reyne brings his axe down with terrifying precision, cracking Jasen’s skull in twain.
Alek gets rocked to the side by the bandits blow. “Such a shame. I wouldn’t want my life’s blood wasted on scum like you!” Alek growls, trying to shake feeling into his arm. He trots backwards some before charging one last time, his axe swinging and lodging in Jasen’s skull. The knight grunts, not looking pleased.
Shouts arise from the back of the horrified crowd that has formed around the fight as they are shoved aside by the men of the River Gate, who storm towards the bloodied street in black mail and golden cloaks. Their sergeant quickly spies the downed noblewoman and sends two of his men to aid her. The rest press forward to make a perimeter around the men strewn about the ground, keeping back the crowd with the hafts of their spears.
Name set.
Farin, reeling from having detroyed a quarter of a man’s head, turns around in time to - witness the sky, in all of its beautiful glory, as his reigns are stripped from his hands by the powerful blow from Marbo’s axe, which digs into his palfrey’s neck. The horse is ripped forward, and Farin falls from it as well, thudding painfully on the cobblestone street. He lands on his wounded side, and for a moment, his field of vision is wiped by a searing red and white pain, and it is a good few minutes before the suffering subsides long enough for him to find his feet.
Tagging along with the goldcloaks is Luthor’s man, Leon. He immediately shoves the watchmen aside to run to his master’s side. “Ser…?” He says, kneeling and grabbing Luthor by the shoulders, grabbing his waterskin.
Alek dismounts his horse, scowling at the mess left by the man’s brains, wiping it clean on his corpse. The Reyne knight then goes to assist Farin. “Ser, do you need a hand?” He asks, voice devoid of any noticeable emotion.
Aurana isn’t moving. The goldcloaks that attempt to assist her find her still bleeding but blood stains her pale tresses and her snowy complexion seems even more wan.
Farin drags himself up by Alek’s hands, casting his eyes about in all directions. “Where is she?” he chokes out, as a decent amount of blood had filled his mouth. “Get me to he-” he begins, until he spots her. “Gods,” he breathes, “GUARDS! I need a MAESTER! Is she alive? RUN, you daft fools!” he cries out, sinking to his knees around her as a man whose world is crushed might.
Luthor comes around as his man attends to him, his vision clearing. A moment passes before he finds his thoughts. “Where is that Tyroshi bitch?” he demands struggling to his feet pushing Leon aside. The bastard knight takes a step towards the line of goldcloaks intent on pushing past them and pursuing the Tyroshi woman. His vision swims and his legs threaten to give way. He reaches out for Leon to steady him, and when he does he spies Aurana and his eyes go wide. “Seven bloody hells,” he says. When Farin calls for a maester he turns to Leon. “Bring Watty here, and a wagon.” He leans against a wall to allow the man the chance to depart for his duty.
Leon nods. “Aye, my lord.” He says, running off, shoving past people, yelling at them to clear the way or he’d run them through. Subtle as always. Alek stands by Farin before going to assist Luthor. “Ser, lean on me.” He offers his shoulder.
Farin checks her pulse and breathing personally, wrapping her head in an undershirt of his that has been spared most of the blood. “She yet lives,” he calls out, to any that care. “But we must act quickly, or…”
The sergeant kneels beside Farin. “We can commandeer a wagon my lord, take her to the keep,” he offers gently, but by his look he holds out little hope.
Luthor stands torn a moment as he takes the offered shoulder, his eyes turning between Aurana and the direction of Tycella’s retreat. Finally he says. “I’m no maester, help me on my horse. Stay here, help Farin.”
Alek nods. “Aye, Warden.” He helps Luthor towards and onto his mount, handing the warden his sword. “Ride safe, we need no more casualties, ser.” The old lion says seriously.
Farin glances up, watching Luthor escape, and Alek not following. “Are you daft, Reyne?” Farin murmurs. “Do not let that man go by himself. He may fall from his horse, and then what will we gain? Follow him if you have to; this is an order from the Acting Warden. ...what are you waiting for, man? Go!” he calls out, before turning back to Aurana. He is on his knees, kneeling over her protectively, waiting for help, sweat dripping from his brow as he rocks back and forth, careful not to rock her with him, lest it upset her blood flow.
“Oh, by the seven hells, fuckin’ move your bloody arses! Can’t you see this is an emergency?! Shift or you’ll have my steel for innards!” The harsh voice of the northron sellsword calls out as well as the creek of a wagon. The crowd parts at his barking command, Leon hopping down and running to Farin. “My lord, a wagon and I have brought Watty.” He says, deadly serious.
Alek sighs, looking to Farin. “Do not think I intended to , ser.” He says as he strides to his destrier. “I merely wish to give him a headstart.” He mounts. “I hope your beloved will survive, ser.” Alek mutters, sincere. “Don’t talk like that, Reyne!” Leon growls. “Of course she’s going to live!”
Luthor takes his sword from Alek and slides it into its sheath as he settles into the saddle. The world turns violently and he almost retches, but he keeps his seat and once he’s swallowed down the bile, he manages to croak out. “You men,” looking at some of the goldcloaks. “With me.” He rides forward his eyes sweeping the crowd.
Farin ignores Alek, but gives a curt nod to Leon. To Watty, he looks to, and begins spouting off what had happened immediately. “She fell from her mare, not a strong kick, but a hard fall. She remained there for some time, and bled a little without bandage. This cloth is the only impediment around the wound for now. She yet breathes, and her pulse is weakened, trying not to hemmorage more blood,” he sputs off, moving aside for the healer.
Alek moves off and takes his position. “You’re mad, Luthor.” Alek comments, “And rightly so. I am accompanying you. No order can sway me from that.” He says with a type of finality. “If you wish to punish me for disobeying an order, you are right to say so. I may be old, but I am also no maester.”
The Dornishman wastes no words before he sets himself to the task of examining Aurana. He checks head, neck and back before he meets Farin’s gaze. “She is not so bad as some I’ve seen. But I cannot help her in the street, we shall chance moving her,” he looks to the sergeant, bring board and means to bind her to it. We will move her to the wagon and then the Keep.”
Luthor nods absently to the elder knight. “Just find me that woman, Alek, or that bandit.” With that he rides on in silence searching.
Luthor, Alek, and the goldcloaks go hunting for their prey, hopeful that they either didn’t get far, or that some enterprising smallfolk decided that today was a good day to earn ten dragons. Aurana, Farin, Watty, and Leon all manage to move some deadweight into a wagon, whereupon it is lited and carried back to the keep, to await further medical treatment. The corpses are almost left for the guards to clean up, before Farin orders them both to be thouroughly looted, and the contents delivered to the Kingswood compound.