Roadside Rumble


 * Imperial Thoroughfare - Interdistrict Carriage Hub '


 * The green-leafed branches of ancient biinwood trees twist and arch to form a canopy over the Imperial Thoroughfare, which is a narrow, uncobbled path in this region south of the Palace District.
 * A long, sprawling wood-and-timber building is tucked into a dense clump of dark-needled evergreens here. Gracious in proportion if not in line, it is visible only in glimpses over the high stone wall that surrounds its well-kept grounds or through the high fluted iron gates presided over by half-attentive guards.

Marisa is seated against a tree by the side of the road, her horse off to the side, eating some grass. The blonde teen is unarmored and appears to be unarmed, and is in her shiny clothes rather than her rags. And she's clean. She seems to be humming some sort of tune, but the notes are failing miserably. And she's also wrapped up in her cloak. It's cold.

Slowly walking his horse from the Carriage Hub, Godric Lomasa brings his mare on the causeway. He starts to ride west, and eventually spots a darkened figure lying at the roadside in the distance. As he approaches, the Baron tries to squint and make out whom it is by the moonlight. Cautiously, his hand falls on the pommel of his longsword. The clatter of iron-shod shoes noisily alerts anyone nearby to his presence; however, his features are partially obscured by the drawn cowl of his plush white cloak.

The girl is in her own little world. She either doesn't notice or doesn't care about the sound of iron-clad footsteps. Marisa's humming starts to take on words at points, but it's mumbly, as though she doesn't really know the words.

"The bandit," Godric whispers, almost a growl. He seems to encounter a sudden rush of excitement, and slowly draws his sword from its scabbard. It glints and flashes in the moonlight. Moving his horse forward, the Lomasa knight booms out in a commanding voice, "Get back from the roadway, villain! Try to make a move on me, and I shall offer that pretty little head a very close haircut!" For all purposes, the unknown mounted rider could look rather menacing at the moment!

"Lor' L'masa," Risa replies, recognizing the man's voice. She stands slowly, hands out to demonstrate that she has no weapon, and approaches her horse as way of getting away from the road, "I's nae gon' bite ye. Gots mehself a legit'mate job, aye."

Godric glances about the desolate and empty crossroads. "What has Fate offered me tonight, hmm? An empty road, and a filthy little criminal at my mercy. My, my," confidently muses the Baron, directing his horse as if he were ready to charge. "Is this not the pretty situation?" he adds. "Lying in wait to prey upon an unsuspecting traveller, yes? A pity you were not on the Western road."

"Got sumtin' 'n yer ears, L'masa?" Risa asks almost sweetly, "I's gots meh a legit'mate job. 'N I's alseh did meh time. So's I's jes' 'n 'onest cit'zen dese days." She leans against her horse, and attempts to sneak her dagger from the saddlebags behind her back without being noticed.

The nobleman completely misses the smuggled dirk. It is rather dark, after all. "Legitimate? I hardly believe it. Why, it is as likely as your birth being legitimate, you harlot!" scoffs Godric. "Moaning on your back at the Crescent Moon?" His glittering broadsword is held aside the horse in his right hand whilst the reins are tugging on his steed in the left. The Baron is still in a position to attack. "Get out of here, little girl. Or else I shall find a reason to break you to pieces."

"Please. Dat's 'n 'obbeh, nae a job," Risa replies, not caring that it was meant as an insult as she chuckles. She does not go into what her legitimate job is, merely starting to walk slowly towards the nobleman. Staying out of his reach, of course, "'N 's I's be recallin' 't, ye's treat'n'd te rape meh. So's I's nae wantin' te 'ear anehtin' from /yer/ mout' 'bout bein' a 'arlot." Oh, blatant disrespect of station!

"You will beg your pardon, scamp!" Godric growls, peering at her from horseback. As she steps toward him, he readies his sword. "Get away, villain. You have received your warning, and I will offer no other. If you value your pathetic little life, I suggest you leave - with haste!" The Baron does not seem to be bluffing. He sits poised to trample or disembowl - or both! - Marisa.

"'Ave it yer way, L'masa," Risa replies, unapologetic. The teen approaches her horse again, keeping the dagger hidden. Right about now might be a good time to mention that there's a bow strapped to the saddle and a quiver sticking out of one of the pockets.

Godric does not say a word. From this point, it is impossible to tell whether he knows that she has a weapon there or not. He does, but the Baron makes no action to reveal that he knows. He remains in the same, aggressive posture.

Marisa mounts Fearsome, patting the horse's neck. The dagger is slid back into its pocket inobtrusively and she rides a distance away from Godric... It seems as though she is making to leave.

The Baron keeps his eyes wearily trained on Marisa, and remains vigilant in his guard. He waits for her to disappear down the road.

Ah, but she doesn't. The girl turns her horse sideways a ways down and pulls out that bow, stringing an arrow and aiming the weapon Godric's way. Oh, yes, she knows he can see it. Not that she's trying to be sneaky this time, "Threat'n meh 'gain, L'masa! Ord'r meh 'roun', 'nsult meh! Gimmeh a reas'n te see if'n ye's kin dodge 'n arrah, yeh arrogant, pompous bast'rd!" And then a kissing motion, just to taunt the Baron.

Godric murmurs a light prayer. "If it is my time, I commend my soul to the Light!" He places his boots to the rear of Snowflake, and charges toward the mounted Freelander in a thundering clamour of hoofbeats and a loud war-cry!

"Shadah take ye, Godr'c L'masa!" Risa yells, before loosing her arrow at the charging Bull. She draws another, in hopes of being able to get off another shot before he gets too close. A calming breath as she works to aim...

Godric wheezes as an arrow plucks itself in his side, finding a small gap between the platemail and embedding itself in the nobleman. Though it greatly pains the Lomasa, it does nothing to stop the full crashing momentum of his charge toward Marisa. His sword is brought, gripped in both hands, down upon the woman as she sits in her saddle. The blow aims to cleave limbs and open flesh and bone!

Marisa drops her bow and lunges sideways away from that poorly aimed swing, grabbing her dagger from the saddlebags once again as she slides from the saddle and drops onto the ground.

Godric grunts, the pain of an embedded arrow jostling him as he misses the blow. The Baron rears his horse, and turns upon the dismounted Marisa. Dropping the reins, he grips the pommel of his sword with both hands and brings the sword swinging down in an effort to slash the cut-purse. "Die, ruffian!" he roars.

Marisa sidesteps that swing and lunges, taking a stab at the mounted Baron's horse in an attempt to take away his advantage, "Bite meh, arse-'ole!"

And from the carriages, a single man walks, leading his horse... before he pauses, catching sight of the nobleman and rogue girl fighting in the road. "What madness is this?" he asks, mostly to himself, letting go of his horse's reins and reaching a hand back to place on his halberd's shaft, in case it must be drawn. "Stop! What is going on here?"

Godric manages to block the dirk with the flat of his sword. Kicking his horse, he moves Snowflake a few steps ahead before wheeling her around to bear down again upon Marisa. Caught in the heat of battle, with his attention rivited to the combat, Godric either does not hear or ignores Gefrey. With the arrow still sticking out from his side, the Lomasa spurs foward and swings his broadsword down again upon Marisa.

Marisa is just not prepared for that one. The nobleman's sword slices through the flesh of her upper torso and leaves a nasty gash in her upper right arm as well. She curses loudly and makes back to her horse to flee. Gefrey is noticed, sort of, and she yells, "'E start'd 't, git 'im off meh!"

"Baron Godric Lomasa!" Gefrey roars. "Stand down. You've beaten her down - there's no need to kill her. If she has caused you harm, she will be judged by Imperial law." He starts heading that way.

"Yield, and I shall relinquish you to the Watch!" Godric commands from the saddle. He huffs loudly, wincing with the pain from the arrow-shaft. "Do not make me kill you, girl! Surrender and live!" Putting heels to his own horse, the Baron moves to intercept Marisa and cut off her escape. Iron-hooves clump across the ground as Godric manuevers Snowflake. The blood-smeared sword is lowered, and pointed at Marisa. "Submit, girl. Do not be a fool!

For practical reasons, the Lomasa does not - or rather cannot! - answer Gefrey at the moment.

"Don' trust ye 's far 's I's kin spit, L'masa!" Risa calls as she continues to run. Even though the Baron's horse is obviously faster than she is, she still tries to flee. If she can just get to her horse...

''Risa bolts for her horse, quicksilver - but Godric's more than ready for her - setting spurs to his beast, he cuts her off easily - he didn't have far to go, and the move was easily anticipated. To reach that horse, she'll have to get through him, as things stand. Worse, with his blade out...''

"You should have yielded," murmurs the Lomasa knight. With a barely perceptible sigh, Godric swings his sword down upon Marisa. The blow is directed toward her shoulder, a quick and circular swing. The animal follows underneath him as he directs it forward, releasing the reins only to steady the weapon with both hands.

A cry of pain this time as Godric's blade reaches its target. The sharp steel sinks into her right shoulder, and the girl drops to her knees in pain. She also drops the dagger, as her arm is no longer in any condition to grip things.

"Put up your blade, Baron," Gefrey says quietly as he approaches. "She cannot fight back. There's no reason to be attacking anymore." He finally approaches the scene of the crime, whatever crime it is, and reaches out to put his boot down on the dropped dagger. "Yield, Mistress," he says. "He could kill you where you lie, now. It's best to be safe."

Godric breathes heavily, and winces from the pain of the protruding arrow-shaft. It has yet to be broken, and the feathered end still flutters in the night air. He brings his mount around one more time, circling in upon Marisa. It is at this moment that he finally seems to notice Gefrey, and acknowledges him with a distant, "My Lord Seamel. Greetings." The Baron coughs loudly, and looks between his blood-dripping sword and the fallen Freelander. "Yield, woman. By my family's honour, I tell you are under arrest. I shall turn you over to the Watch for Assault on a Noble. May the Light have mercy upon you." His brow is covered in sweat, and it seems that only now - that the battle has ended - has the toil begun to make itself known. Without cleaning the blade, the sword is resheathed.

"Lord Seamel, I did not know you were in this country," Godric remarks, distantly. "Will you help me deliver this villain to the Watch?"

The blonde clutches her injuries as best she can with her left arm as pale green eyes look around, unseeing. There are no bandits here to save her, no business partners to buy her out of a scrape... No Swift with his stupid grin to swoop down and then lecture her for her foolishness later on. As Risa realizes that she is truly alone, she starts to shake, and looks up to Godric with an emotion she hasn't exhibited in a very long time: fear. She slowly pulls the dirk from her cleavage and tosses it aside as a sign of surrender, and concentrates her energies on keeping herself from crying. She is beaten, but she is determined not to give the Lomasa the satisfaction of seeing her quite that weak.

Gefrey Seamel nods approvingly, reaching down to pluck up the two daggers, tucking them away. "Go see to it that your injuries are treated, Baron Lomasa," he says quietly. "I'll see if I can't find a place around the Crescent Moon to store her until the Watch arrives. Can you walk, Mistress?"

"I thank your concern, Lord Seamel," Godric replies. "However, I shall deliver her to the Watch myself. Your company is appreciated, of course. Lomasa thanks Seamel," he adds. The Bull absently looks about his saddlebags. "I do not have any rope. No matter. I doubt, after those wounds, she is in any condition to flee." He shakes his head dismayingly. "Silly girl, you should have listened!" growls Godric, quietly, mostly to himself.

Unslinging his foot from the stirrup, Godric dismounts from Snowflake. He walks several steps toward Marisa and, roughly, grabs her left arm to hoist her to her feet. The girl is pushed in front of him. He holds the reins to lead the horse with his opposite hand, and gruffly orders her to "March!".

"Leggo o' meh, ye dick, I's kin walk on meh own," Risa snarls. She already knows how this is going to turn out, so she might as well get in a few more good jabs. "I's jes' been sittin' dere mindin' meh own 'n yeh 'ad te go 'n start wit meh... Shadah take ye, L'masa, 'n everehtin' ye's lovin' 's well." She aims to spit over her shoulder at Godric. Hopefully on him.

"Slow down," gefrey says, rubbing at his temple. "We'll bring her to the Crescent Moon and summon the watch. I really doubt she's actually going anywhere, and this is a job for them."

Marisa's the one that hears it first - Gefrey barely notices the horse until it's atop the three; a black river-trotter with a leather-clad fellow aboard, a freelander with blonde hair, decent dress, and curious look. He comes from the south, having passed the moon - and is dressed in velvet under that leather, /very/ good clothing for one who is no noble - perhaps a footman or house-servant.

"My Lords." A smooth, easy greeting. "Cold night for hunting, I daresay."

Marisa's the one that hears it first - Gefrey barely notices the horse until it's atop the three; a black river-trotter with a leather-clad fellow aboard, a freelander with blonde hair, decent dress, and curious look. He comes from the south, having passed the moon - and is dressed in velvet, /very/ good clothing for one who is no noble - perhaps a footman or house-servant.

"My Lords." A smooth, easy greeting. "Cold night for hunting, I daresay."

Godric raises his hand to backhand Marisa. "Mind your tongue, wretch!" he commands her, angrily. "You are lucky to be alive, whelp! Do not mix my honour and mercy for weakness that can be trodden upon!" As they continue to walk toward the Crescent Moon, the Lomasa looks over his shoulder at Gefrey. "Have you any rope, my Lord?" He looks about to say something else when his attention is caught by an approaching figure.

His sword is half-drawn, yet still in its sheath at the appraoch of an unknown rider in the night. Godric's eyes look up on the man suspiciously, trying to make out his intentions. "Who are you, fellow? I doubt I should have to remind you to give us the road," he adds. As a precautionary measure, the Bull reaches out and takes hold of a sizeable fist-full of Marisa's hair - in case she had further ideas of running - with his left hand. "State your business at once. If you are a friend, fetch the Emperor's Watch. If not, I warn you will not find a welcome reception here!"

Gefrey Seamel turns to look up at the approaching horseman, smiling a bit more kindly. "Could you fetch the watch for us, Master?" he asks, deciding to be a bit more diplomatic. "The Baron Lomasa here and this girl got into a fight. It... Well, you can see how it ended. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but the Watch may need to know, yes."

A newcomer! Marisa thinks quickly and does the only thing that comes to mind. She stops fighting back her tears (which is helped by Godric gripping her hair), and lets herself break down. "M-mas'r, ye's gots te 'elp meh," she starts wimpering, "I's t-tried te d'fend mehself 'n... 'n de L'masa, 'e... 'e's 'avin' meh 'rrest'd fer figh'in' back... I's din' do anehtin' fer dis, I's swearin', please, ye's got te..."

"The Watch?" The freelander seems startled at the idea - "I can say, your lordship, that the watch can be fetched, if that /is/ what you wish.." He bows, in his saddle - oh, he gives the pair plenty of room - but the fellow's eyes stay on the bleeding girl, there, speculative. "This close to the Moon, that's not a bad hunt at all, though." He utterly ignores what she says, it seems - looking to Gefrey. "In truth, I think there's watchmen /at/ the moon, there often are."

"Lying, duplicious knave!" growls Godric. He is obviously not impressed with Risa's efforts. "Shut your mouth, villain!" The Lomasa yanks forcibly on her hair, as if to reinforce the point, but keeps his eyes toward the other Freelander. Over his shoulder, the Baron calls to Gefrey. "My Lord, why do you not see if you can find any Watch officers there who are sober - and not presently /engaged/, yes?"

"What is your name, fellow? And precisely - what is it that you want? As you can see, I am not in a mood to receive petitions at the moment!"

Marisa just gets more pathetic as her hair is yanked. "Ye's de 'un w-wut's start'd, m'Lor', I's d-din' d-do anehtin' t-te ye..." she continues, and it gets pretty easy to let out that fear she was trying to bottle, "P-please, m-mas'r, I's do anehtin' fer ye, j-jes' please 'elp meh..." Weep, wimper, etc...

"Oh, hush, girl.." The fellow rolls his eyes and looks to the Lord. "Who I am matters far less than what I can do for you, your lordship. You've a valuable bit, there-" A nod to Marisa, still speculative. "Give her to the Watch, and what then? She sits in a cell, like as not dies from those cuts - and you'll feel better, aye - " He smiles, then. "Or, you can get a bit of wealth, and she'll be gone just the same. You've not much time, before his lordship finds himself a guardsman. You can be gone as fast as I - and no one but us would know. I've no idea of your name, you've no idea of mine - and I've twenty thousand imperials that says the girl won't remember either of us."

The fellow pauses, for a moment, drumming gloved fingers on his saddle. "Aye. Cleaned up - " He actually reaches back in his saddlebags, producing a rope - a coil that's tossed negligantly at the girl's feet. "Aye. I can turn a profit on her. So what say you, your lordship? Guards and revenge.. or a fair profit on a damaged wench?"

"Do you think I am so poor and beggarly of spirit that I will accept a few measely coins in exchange for this bandit? I would rather see her head on a chopping block, or watch her neck stretched from a tree branch! Get away from me, you wretch! The Law will deal with this one," booms Godric, his eyes narrowing at the mysterious slave-trader. The gauntlet still rests on the pommel of his sword.

Oh, the fellow a-horse sighs, and says simply - "Twenty-five then - better to the fellow that has an arrow through him than spending it in bribes to buy her from the watch-house." Shrewd, perhaps, he looks to Godric - "Or perhaps you'd wish something more than coin?"

"I's add a few 'undr'd coin, meh 'orse, 'n meh ringmail arm'r if'n ye's sell meh t' 'im," Risa states. She's still crying, yes, and she's still quite afraid, but she seems to think the mystery man is a better option than a chopping block, "Ye's knowin' 'ow dese sorts are, m'Lor', I's likeleh gon' git meh arse 'and'd te meh a righ' lot... ain' dat more sat'sfyin' den jes' 'avin' meh kill'd by de Watch?"

"You have your answer, rascal," retorts Godric. "And if you make another suggestion as to the corruption of men loyal to the Imperium, perhaps I shall /forget/ my manners in dealing with you. Get away with you!" Having finished with the Freelander, Marisa is forcibly shoved toward the Thoroughfare.

The freelander smiles, wryly - and turns. "As you wish, your lordship - " And under the pounding of hoofbeats, he rides away easily enough.

Remarkably, it's not long - oh, a few moments in passing - until from the Moon's way comes a few other hoofbeats, a group of watchmen riding on their own horses, giving the appearance of being hastily dressed.

"I's realleh be 'atin' yeh, L'masa," Risa grumbles defeatedly. She sighs, relaxes, and allows herself to be pushed wherever it is she's going to be pushed. Her eyes unfocus a little bit as she glances to her bleeding wounds, and she adds, "Let go o' meh 'air... I's don'... wan' a bald s-... spot..." The teen seems to be getting ready to pass out. Fighting it, but getting there.

Godric releases her hair, and allows her to fall to the ground - if that is what she intends to do. He reaches for the reins to Snowflake, and steadies himself against the horse. Though not as wounded as Marisa, the Baron is still in some considerable pain - and has the protruding shaft of an arrow, feathers and all, to show for it! He slowly raises a heavy, steel gauntlet in greeting to the arriving horsemen.

"Good night to you, Officers," huffs the Lomasa Baron, stifling a cough. "Rather cold, is it not?" He gestures to the bleeding and incredibly wounded Marisa. "This one was lying in wait on the roadside. I came across her, called her out, and told her to leave. As you can see, she shot me with an arrow before I was able to subdue her. I give her to the Watch."

"Aye, your lordship, it is - " The watch sergeant dismounts - waving to two of his men to do the same; they move quickly enough to tend to the wounded woman.

"A Seamel nobleman came into the Moon saying something about a fight on the road - seems he was right. Lying in wait, you say?"

"Lyin' 'n wait, my arse...," Risa mumbles as she drops to a knee. She blinks and has to focus rather hard to keep her eyes from wandering, "I's was jes' sittin' dere... meh weapons was on meh 'orse ov'r a ways off... 'e s-start'd 't... I's din' do anehtin' but... d'fend mehs-... self..."

"Mind the deceit from that one," adds Godric. "The Duke Lomasa and I caught her trying to escape East Leg several moons back. A confessed bandit and highwayman." He shakes his head. "Yes, I recognised her and called on the wretch to leave. She had mounted her horse, and made as if to ride away - until I saw that she had an arrow drawn upon me. What else was a man to do but charge in that situation?" questions the Baron, rhetorically, to the Watchman.

"If you would be so kind, Officer, to help me in the saddle. I believe I shall ride to Lightholder Tavern. Should you have any further questions, I reside at Riverhold Castle. Lord Godric Lomasa," he introduces himself, "Baron of Elkmont, and House Knight of the Silver Tankard."

"As you say, your lordship - " The watch sergeant blinks - "You charged her, you say?" He frowns - "So you say this girl here drew an arrow on you - the one in your side, I gather - and you charged her?"

The two watchmen tending to Marisa exchange words, then help her up and onto one of their horses, already starting to take her back in the direction of the Moon.

Godric looks at the soldier, unamused. "Yes, Sergeant. That bandit plucked an arrow in my side, and it took some pains for me to finally make her yield." He reaches for the arrow, as if to pull it out, but hesitates. The Baron contemplates breaking the shaft. "Have you a healer with your company?" he asks.

The teen goes without a fuss, as she's not much energy left to fuss with. The girl has gone rather pale, and her eyes will no longer focus. It is not long after Risa is situated in the saddle that she leans forward as though to hug the animal. It is a strange move, but when her pale green eyes roll up in their sockets and she passes out, it seems to make sense. As she's already leaned forward, the risk of falling from the horse is greatly reduced.

"No, milord, sad to say - " The sergeant frowns, looking back at the girl. "Lightholder's then? Lord Lomasa - aye, will likely be more questions - " The sergeant does his best to help the fellow mount. "You'll be wanting a healer indeed, for that."

The two watchmen steady her in that saddle, continuing on to the moon - a nearby source of warmth to sort things, most likely.

"Very well. I thank you for your speed and dedication, soldier," Godric says, as he is helped into the saddle. He looks down upon the man. "You best be on your guard, as well. Shortly before you arrived, a slave-trader of sorts tried to convince me to sell that wretched villain. I suspect that he may work for her, or in whatever band she may be associated with. Not that I think you will have any problems with her, as she currently sits, but who knows what else lurks around these parts?"

Sitting atop Snowflake, he raises his hand to salute the Watchman. "The Light keep and bless you, fellow. Have your superiors or the magistrate call upon me at Riverhold. I hope to be there in a few days." With a heavy sigh, and a groan, Godric puts spurs to the horse's flanks and prepares to trot northward.