Campfire Tales: Stowynne

Forest


 * Blue flowers blossom on bushes that flourish around the gray trunks of shardwood trees. The ground is covered in a carpet of leaves and grass. A large, ancient shardwood is here, majestic and tall. A broken tree has toppled to lean against another, angling above the trail as it winds through a gulley.

Someone passing by might miss the camp, if the fire were out - it blends in to the surroundings, a part of the natural order of things, a lean-to in the lee of the fallen shardwood, carefully crafted to seem just so much underbrush, a den, of sorts. Off to the side, near a low rock - a cache of carefully angled stones - near the den, a carefully raised circle of rock has a small fire burning merrily, a certain Marked man sitting nearby, working carefully on a long strip of leather with a worn knife.

The irritable snort of a horse is audible long before it is visible. The lazy sounds of hooves on forest softened floor are almost as easy to hear. The image of the horse and rider, fog swirling around them both, is etched in moonlight. Clear and bright.

The young man - pauses, peering up and squinting into the moonlight... that long wildlander's knife drawn quietly and held under the cloak, the tool laid aside. Fire-dazzled, it's debatable what he sees, but his hearing isn't harmed by firelight.

From Thorn's saddle, The reins are tightened on the horse, denying it the enterance into the camp but keeping it dancing just outside the circle of the firelight. "I'm not sure of what courtesy demands. Do I ask permission to enter the camp?" The voice may or may not be recognized. But the sheer good humor, outright joy in it, is likely very clear indeed.

Quietly, the young man resheathes that knife - ".. mm. Yer welcome. Allus, if y' come without meanin' t' try 'n kill me." Kael flashes a grin and resumes the worn tool, still idly stripping that leather. "Nae much b' way o' seats, but yer welcome t' whate'er patch o' ground suits yer fancy."

From Thorn's saddle, "Ah, so you've heard of my brand new dire reputation!" Stowe's voice continues to carry laughter. She dismounts from the horse and walks the beast over to the closest tree. It only takes a moment to tie the reins up and she murmurs quietly to the animal as she does so. A bit of hay is slipped to it as well.

"... aye? Well, fallin' in th' sewer changes a person." Kael swallows. "I.. donnae hae much t' offer b'yond firelight, though ... I kin catch sommat, if yer hungry." well, he's /trying/ to be a good host, at least.

Stowynne laughs and shakes her head, "No. I'm forgetting that. Convienantly, in fact." She walks over and, teasing aside, her expression remains joyous. Blue eyes bright. "I have a horse, you know. Lady Celeste in her generousity gave her. That does not suit me completely, to be honest. I don't like being /given/ something. But? Oh, I've got some food in the saddle bag. I can offer that to you if you are hungry." She diverts for a moment.

"... sommat hae ye excited." The mage smiles.. looking at this rude place, then to her. "n' m' guessin' 's nae me. Y' goin' t' tell me, o' make m' guess?"

"Well, no," Stowe says slightly apologetic. Then she grins sharply at him, "But we could spar, I could beat you, and then it would be you. If you really wanted." She walks over and sits, back straight and chin held in partially mocking pride. She grins anew.

Kael snorts. "spar.." He offers the bit of leather. "'ere. S' nae much." Thoughtful.. "Well, y' talked t' Duhnen. 'es a good fellow, mostly. So.. 'e likes ye?"

Stowynne draws up her knees and her nose wrinkles slightly, "He...I could not tell," she admits, sobering, "I needed to go bath and Lady Mikin needed to speak with him. I thought it best that I let them do so."

Kael waves that bit of leather at her - intending, it seems, for her to take it. "So what has y' smilin', then?" He grins, "Y' hae t' say, o' I wi' take y' up on that sparrin' t' find out."

Stowynne absently reaches out for the leather, not quite looking yet. "Sparring would be fun. And, while I'd not meant to be so capricious about it, you've done it now." She grins, "You've introduced the concept." She winks and then, finally looks to the leather, curiousity crossing her face.

Kael shrugs. ".. I did nae any such thing - /ye/ did. I heard ye afore. Fishin' fer.. sommat. Beatin' up on Freelanders, aye?" He chuckles, softly - "s' nae a bow.. but, 't wi' keep ye in rabbits, anyroad."

Stowynne looks up to Kael in surprise then down to the sling. Then back up. Her smile loses the triumphant edge for something a little softer. "Thank you, Master Firelight. Though I may need to trouble you by asking you to teach me how to properly use it." Her tone isn't formal, but has lost the playfulness for seriousness.

Kael shrugs, looking down at that knife, wiping it on the leg of his trousers. "S' nothin'. Nae like 's e'en very good. An' aye, I suppose - 'm nae very good 't usin' 'em myself. Nae much reason." He hmphs. "so, now y' owe me. What's got y' smilin' so?"

Stowynne's smile widens, "Tricky," she accuses him and then straightens, "The full story then. In approve style." She tosses her head, black braid flipping. "So. There I am. Riding north with my trusty lovely and beautiful horse, thinking of the possibilities ahead of me and convincing myself that my hair did not and does not yet smell of things best left unmentioned." She gestures extravegantly, "When I feel the need to stop at a tavern to make sure I've got apples for said nobel steed."

"... 'es nae so much noble.. but... a'right." Kael grins. "An' 't does nae, by th' by. "

"Hush," Stowe chides in sotto tones. Then a wink, "Thank you, but hush." She clears her throat to continue. "So. In this tavern was a weedy looking man of dubious manners. I merely remarked on said manners to the bartender. Nothing more. A simple and non-offensive comment on wit being best shown by silence. I should have taken my own advice, one might say, because the gentleman over heard and challenged me to a duel." Another gesture, "Never mind that I had no blade. Never mind that, sad to say, the ill excuse for manhood was a man of my own House. A duel it was and I could not refuse and still pretend to have a shred of dignity left." Her chin raises slightly. "So I accepted. Simple as that."

Kael blinks. "Y... got 'n a fight? Wi' Duhnen?" He seems incredulous at the thought.

Stowynne leans in and murmurs the grave aside, "Different man. My lord Pimple Artus Seamel."

"... a'right. S' an odd name, fer a noble." His grin is wide, expectant, regardless - the young man's curiosity certainly piqued.

Stowynne laughs, "Artus. The additional title is a descriptor he has earned, but one that I doubt he is often called to his face." She clears her throat again. "'My lord,' I protested, 'I do not have a blade. Cease this madness!'" Her tones ring expansively, horror conveyed, "Quick as a whip, he had a retainer toss me this old hand and a half. I could scarse raise it! The rust alone had added a good pound to its weight." She's grinning now, "But? Though the battle was epic. Clash. Ring. Thrust parry and the scent of steel on steel...? I saw my chance."

She leans in, right arm gesturing as if to mimic the flourish of a cut. "He parried high and I swept low. First blood to me and honor on all sides appeased. As well as skill's reward given." Upon her finger a glint of gold shimmers in the firelight. She waggles her finger as if to enhance the sparkle from the signet ring. "Though, God knows I'll likely fall down another sewer and get it stolen, eh?"

Kael grins, ".. y' whipped yer cousin 'n took 's ring? M' right proud." He winks. "s' right well told, too."

Stowynne laughs and gives him a reproachful look, "He could not have been a cousin. Cousin thrice removed, perhaps. But yes, I whipped my cousin in a duel he called for and as /recognition/ for that fact? He gave me the ring." She is beaming again, eyes glinting.

"... aye, then I am proud o' ye, Stow - sounds t' me like 'e deserved it." The young man nods at that ring - "s' a trophy worth keepin', at th' very least." He chuckles, softly - "We need t' get ye a sword s' ye kin whip up on more o' yer cousins without havin' t' borrow any."

Stowynne returns her hand to her lap, "That would be good." She is still smiling, "I know it is silly. But..." She shrugs a shoulder. "At any rate. This has been a full enough day, has it not?"

".. are y' happy?" The question is an earnest, quiet one.

"That is quite a question, Master Firelight," Stowe says, seeming a little surprised. But then she is smiling, "Yes. I think I am. And you?"

".. aye. I am. S' much 's I deserve t' be." Kael chuckles... "I got a home.." He waves around himself, then offers Stowe a wry smile. "a friend o' two. S' nice."

Stowynne nods then, drawing knees up again. "Then everything is in its place, isn't it?"

"N' really. When 't all gets comfortable.. s' when I start wonderin' what 's o'er th' next hill, o' behind th' next tree." The mage smiles. "S' how I find folks like ye." He leans back, looking to the dying fire. "An'.. s' allus sommat else t' do. Sommat else t' find. S' th' way o' things."

"So what are you doing? What are you trying to find now?" Stowe asks, tilting her head slightly.

Kael answers, promptly and seriously - "Meanin'. S' th' most important think any o' us kin find, an' nae many o' us lookin' fer it."

Stowynne seems to consider that, "Do we make our own meaning, do you think? Or is it out there waiting for us?"

Kael chuckles, softly. "s' fer us t' decide. Allus has been. Allus will be." He touches his cheek - "Everythin' from this.." He nods to her ring - "t' that - s' up t' us, aye?"

''Return to Season 6 (2007)