Blood for the Fields: Day 5 - The Wrong Emissary

August 24th, 2007

Freehaven Square 


 * ''Freehaven: A city of industry and commerce, unique within Fastheld as being the only township that is under Imperial authority, having been gifted to the Empire by House Kahar in 627 ATA. Straddling three trade routes at the Aegis' major eastern gate, rolling hillocks and loamy plains, give way to dense urban quarters and a skyline populated by brick smokestacks. Hundreds of stone chalets dot the rural lowlands, centered amid the great farm-estates of the landed gentry. The Eastwatch canal, a broad, glittering waterway, feeds surrounding fields with irrigable water and descends into the very heart of the city itself. Narrow cobblestone streets coil through the cramped city districts, yet inevitably lead to the expansive central square: the living heart of Freehaven.


 * ''The sprawling marketplace is filled with carts and shanties; shops and stores; brightly coloured tarpaulins and independent merchantmen. Yet all are dwarfed under the two great industries of the region, embodied in their monolithic facades of stone and glass: the iron works and textile consortiums. Like sentinels, these twin foundries flank the square at either end. Broad cobblestone avenues expand in all directions. To the west, a chain of forested mountains mark the provincial border; to the east, the Aegis itself, gargantuan and imposing. Silver Bear Road - the financial trade link between Freehaven and Nillu's Lode - leads south out of the city. A large sword stands outside the Loom and Spindle, melded into the ground.


 * ''It is a mildly warm night. The air is stagnant, not stirring with the slightest breeze. The skies are perfectly clear. The sky is moonless, a portent of Shadow strength.

"It's easy to be impatient." Sahna replies, locating an inkwell and stoppper in her satchel. "Let me get this out of the way, at least, because I'm impatient by nature as well. Anyways, he'd never be satisfied with that. Farrel.. Is entirely too like me, Varal." She scrawls out the slip on the parchment, then reaches for a small bit of sealing wax.

Varal laughs, "Of course, Y'Grace, of course." He shakes his head. "I wish I could say I knew people who were entirely too like me. Might expedite my road to self discovery," he adds in jest, though perhaps it's not all a joke. "Are you sure we're not getting to far ahead of ourselves?"

"Just Sahna is fine." The Nillu noblewoman muses, smile twisting wryly. She presses her signet ring against the small oval of wax, before handing it over in a matter-of-fact-manner. "Ahead of ourselves? How do you mean?"

Varal doesn't seem particularly eager to take the parchment, but he does. "I haven't given the man my money yet. This collateral is preemptive. Makes me uncomfortable. Sahna." He shrugs. "But then again, I assume this is worthless if he doesn't take my money, is that correct?"

Rampart has arrived.

She shoves the slip at him, laughing delightedly. "It's done and over with, so take it. It's worth exactly what I've written." Sahna offers a dry smile, adding, "Use it however you see fit. I expect you to become a knight, Varal. That's where you belong, and I despise seeing things out of place."

Varal looks at the parchment. "I, I see." He seems a little stunned. "Well, then. I'll be sure to return this money as soon as I'm able. That I promise."

''In the corner of her eye, Sahna Nillu catches a motion from the vicinity of the sewer grate that leads down into the waterworks and waste tunnels below Fastheld - just before an arrow thwips past her and into Varal's side. The Black Wildling archer ducks quickly back down into the shadows after watching the projectile strike home.

Sahna places a lace-gloved hand on one hip, smirking at Varal. She seems about to say something-- That is, before someone sticks an arrow into the Mikin. Turning on a heel, the petite, gaunt Nillu noblewoman holds up hands that crawl with licks of blue-white flame, rage filtering across her features. "Sewers! Take cover, Varal!"

Varal's eyes go wide as he registers an arrow sinking into his side. He falls to his knees, one arm supporting his weight as the other grips the haft of the arrow. After a few grunts of effort and quite a few choice curses, the Mikin begins to make a bloody trail towards the stables.

Atop Rampart, Enter the square at a quickened cantered is that of another Mikin, this one glows with a bluish light of her own. The duchess's screams catching her attention and sure enough finding the bloody tableau. Celeste tugs taut upon the reigns and moving to slide down from her mount.

''As Varal makes his way toward the stables, he begins to notice a tightness in his chest and a feverish burning, a thickness to his breathing. It would appear the arrow was envenomed with some kind of toxin that ultimately renders him comatose.

Stubborness can only take a person so far, and poison can complicate what a body can achieve when greviously injured. Fighting to the last ounce of consciousness, Varal manages to squeeze out a few extra, and hopefully precious, inches, before becoming a bleeding liability.

Sahna watches Varal slump only from the corners of her eyes.. She fires blindly back into the sewers with gouts of flame, rage overtaking her. "Celeste! They've gone unconventional. Nepos was right. You need to warn people."

Atop Rampart, Celeste, already with one foot to the ground, nods towards the Nillu. "Point in a direction, Sahna, and I will ride her still she founders." The Mikin's eyes glancing over Varal's fallen form, and her fingers seem to twitch with a life all their own. "By the Light," she growls softly.

''In reality, Varal has collapsed on the street of Freehaven, grievously wounded and poisoned to a comatose state. In his mind, however, he finds himself lying face up and unwounded on a grassy hill, next to a campfire, under a moonless night sky. Sitting on a log beside the campfire is a creature in mismatched bits of leather, chain and plate armor. The helmet, bashed in on top, is too big for the Black Wildling's head. "We talk," the creature hisses at him.

Looking down at the empty sewer grate, the petite Nillu shakes her head, angrily. "Begin to get everyone out of the range of fire, that's a beginning." She kneels next to Varal, the flames dissapearing from her hands. "Then, a healer. Beyond that... Messages need to go out to pretty much everyone, we'll worry about that when we get there. Help me drag him into the stables if you can."

''Spirit-Varal doesn't seem to feel like communicating at first, especially not with a hated enemy. He rises to his feet, fight or flight saying to fight - and kill - the beast. He stiffens the middle and index finger of his right hand, jabbing for the creature's eye.

"Let me see what I can't do," Celeste calls, abandoning the horse. In spite of the hate plate that she wears, the Mikin moves quickly towards the stables and the fallen form of her cousin. "Everyone retreat back towards the stables," she calls out to the passing people, even pausing for a split second to commandeer a freelander to spread the word. Up goes her gauntleted hand and then back towards the sewer grate, and then she's moving again towards Varal.

''Varal grunts with effort, to no avail. Eventually he quits, his face a rictus of anger. He spits at the feet of the wildling. "I will hunt every last one of you down. I will kill you all. Say what you will, but I will not rest until your kind is but an unpleasant memory to haunt children's bedtime stories."

"They aren't continuing the attack." Sahna comments to Celeste, trying to assist in the dragging of the supine body. "It's strange. Not that everything they do isn't strange.." She looks down at the Mikin and adds in a baleful tone, "It's too bad. He was pretty good looking."

''"Poison or not, Walldweller, you not live long enough to kill us all," the Black Wildling within Varal's mind assures the Mikin nobleman. "Walldweller fortunate, though. The Kin not want you dead. The Kin want you alive to tell."

Celeste quirks a blonde brow, already reaching to place her hands to the arrow at his side. "I can't do anything for the poisons, but can probably see about closing the wound. And he's not dead yet, Sahna," quips the tall blonde curtly.

Carriage - 14131 arrives and comes to a halt near the roadside.

Kael has arrived.

Norran Lomasa arrives from Gold Coin Tavern

At the stables huddles Celeste and Sahna around the body of Varal, who is presently quite grievously injured from an arrow jutting out his side. There may still be the signs of magefire by a nearby sewer grate. In the meantime, Varal's spirit is chatting it up with a wildling, elswhere.

''"Tell, what, you damned shadow-spawned wretch?" the Spirit-Varal replies, spitting spirit-spit again at the wildling's feet.. "You think can come to our homes, burn them, kill and pillage and we will not wreak our vengeance upon you? Why do you want to sit and talk now after murdering my people? Why should we allow you to live?" He pauses a moment. "Your kin are powerless in the face of the Light. It has guided me and protected me thus far. Perhaps It gives me this opportunity to warn you. Leave Fastheld now. Never return."

''"The Kin will leave Walldwellers in peace," the Black Wildling within Varal's mind explains to the nobleman, "if Walldwellers give the Kin ten Shadow mages each year. The Kin call this tribute."

Walking casually out of the tavern is the armored form of Duke Norran Lomasa, whistling cheerfully to himself as he makes his way into the square. He remains unaccompanied, making his way toward the stables.

And into this pile of nonsense comes a certain greying freelander - moving up from the south and into Freehaven square with the aire of one that has walked a considerable distance today - perhaps even a bit footsore. Everpresent in these times, that bounding ghost of his is again along the roofline of the city, keeping pace with him as he moves up and across and...

It's hard to miss the glowing form of Celeste, harder still to miss the crumpled form at her feet. And /that/, that has all the day's fatigue forgotten. With one claw-like knife already in hand, the freelander draws the other, moving at an easy lope across the square. Wary.

''Varal laughs, and it takes him a moment to reply. "Tribute? Who are *you* to demand tribute?" The Mikin shakes his head. "We will never bow to your kind. We will never pay you tribute. You can all burn." There's a pause, and glint in the man's eye. "In time, you will wish you were paying us tribute. I will warn you once again - leave Fastheld, never return and your kind will not need to fear us until we find you. Continue your attacks, and we will not rest until you all die."

Celeste tugs at the arrow to pull it from Varal's side, wincing as it comes free. She quickly lowers her hand, a quick glance given about the stables and square to see that her orders have been carried out to clear the streets near the sewers. Content, she lowers her head and softly begins to pray.

''"You just messenger, Walldweller," the Black Wildling says within Varal's mind. "Beyond that, no consequence. Talk done. You go now." The creature tosses some kind of yellow powder in the fire and sparks fly up into Varal's eyes, blinding him with scorching light until it fades and he regains consciousness - pure, agonized consciousness - in Freehaven. No longer with arrow in him, but still in pain just the same.

"YAH!" Varal grunts, rising up as the shocked awake from a nightmare. His eyes widen yet again, and he falls back down. "Ow," he groans weakly. He squints, stiffling a moan. "Cousin? Is that you? I just had...the strangest..."

Norran suddenly takes notice of the wounded nobleman, stopping near the stables and tilting his head in curiousity. "Oh, my...what trouble have you managed to get yourself into, this time? Wandered off without a chaperone? You should know better. And why hasn't he been taken to the High Temple for healing? It's only over there," notes Norran, giving a nod toward the high street.

Kael pulls up short, next to Varal and Celeste - and he gives Norran a truly /odd/ look as the Duke spouts that - but shakes his head and crouches next to the two Mikins with a creak of leather armor and obvious worry - "What 'appened, an' where are th' now?"

"Shhh," coos Celeste softly. Her head bowed, but at Varal's wakening it jars the blonde from her prayers. "Your grace if you can offer nothing but bitter words, you are welcome to leave," replies the noblewoman pointedly. A soft white light glows between her leather clad fingers as she presses her hand to the wound. She winces as it presses against the wound, kindness in her sea green eyes as she meets Varal's gaze. "Do not move, cousin... please."

The pain in Varal's eyes, momentarily, is replaced with annoyance. "Don't be a prick, Norran," he says scathingly. He grunts at another wave of pain, then returns to addressing Norran. "You. You need to ride to the Tribunal. Tell them the wildlings want ten mages as tribute. I suspect things here are about to get much worse." He smiles at Celeste, relaxing at the glow, "The Light truly watches over me, cousin." As for Kael, he gets a simple grunted answer. "I think it was one. I think it got away. But I don't know." He takes a deep breath. "Mmm. Better, cousin. You truly are gifted. I think I can rise. If you'll let me."

"If the both of you still presume to order me around freely, I'll make sure the each of you are laying side-by-side," pointedly replies Norran, his tone quite serious as he narrows his eyes at Varal and Celeste. "Now, if the two of you will stop acting like freelanders for just a /few/ moments, you could tell me exactly what happened and I'll make a report. What's this about mages, now?"

Kael shakes his head quietly at Norran -then looks to Varal. "Are y' alright?" He lets Celeste help him up - staying on-guard and very wary, at the moment. "m' guessin' it were a wildlin', aye?"

"... ten," Celeste questions with surprise. Kael's words finally sinking beneath the Light shrouded fog of the noblewoman again as he helps her rise. But it is the Lomasa that receives a cold glare from the Mikin. "Your grace, it is not I who is making demands, only making a courteous suggestion to a discourteous man. I'm sure that now that the count is able to travel, he can see to the message himself." She dips her head in farewell to the duke and looking back to the Count. "Would you like me to travel with you, cousin?"

Varal tries to raise himself up and and then settles right back down. "Well. I'm woozy. I think I'll just lay here for a little bit. Let my head set itself back right." He then looks at Norran. "Forgive me, Y'Grace, but I've just been poisoned and shot. I'm a little more impatient than usual." The Mikin shakes his head and sighs. "I'm not sure what happened. One minute I was talking with Duchess Nillu, next minute I was shot, and after that I passed out. Next thing I no, I was talking to some wildling. It said they want mages as tribute. Long story short. Then I woke up sans arrow and still hurting."

Celeste's response returns a blank stare from the usually cheerful Duke. His brow soon furrows, emerald green eyes narrowing at the Mikin as he looks at her. "Celeste Mikin. You've dishonored me for the /last/ time. Apologize for your rampant, idiotic insubordination, or I swear to the Light I will stop being reasonable to you," evenly speaks the Duke, unclenching his fist as he relaxes somewhat and steps to follow after Celeste.

Celeste sighs heavily, shaking her head. "Yes, I removed the arrow when you fell, cousin. Then called upon the Light, but you woke while I was in the middle of doing so." She glances over to Norran, brushing the hair from her eyes. "Then I am sorry, Lord Norran Lomasa, but my cousin lay dying and my emotions run deep. It was not meet as insult only that your words wounded and in the heat of trying to save his life... I lashed out."

Kael crouches there, next to Varal - above, on the roofline, that ghostly chitter mirrors Kael's focus and attention. The mage's eyes glitter an odd, misty-blue-white, somehow like that beast above - but it's subtle, very subtle. He supports the mikin nobleman, staying quiet for now, but watching. Definitely watching.

"Friends, there are more important matters at hand," Varal says, still lying down on the ground. His voice is fraught with impatience and annoyance, tinged eversoslightly with pain. "Duke Lomassa, did you hear my words, and do I need to tell the story again. I'm happy to repeat it. It's more important than any of us right now."

"You forget your place, Celeste Mikin, even in a moment of passion. I may not be your Duke, but your continuous refusal to respect my title and my house while trying to hide behind your Duchess and your House only hurts and dishonors your family. The next time to act insubordinate to me, Celeste Mikin, I will respond how I must. I do not enjoy it, but if you don't take me seriously, there's no other way. I'm going to speak to Duchess Mikin about this when I return to Light's Reach to deliver Lord Mikin's information. They may think I've had too much wine this time about, but I'll report what he has told me. In the meantime, you should stop hiding behind your pride and see that Lord Mikin makes his way to the Temple. Despite your efforts, he still needs rest," retorts Norran with a frown, looking over to Varal and giving him a nod as he makes his way inside the stables. Regaining his horse and leading Palisade outside the stables, Norran slips a sabaton into the stirrups. "And, Lady Mikin, it isn't Lord Norran Lomasa. It is Your Grace Norran Lomasa. Remember that, for your own benefit."

Kael speaks softly - but lets it carry to Norran. "Y' cannae demand respect, yer grace. Y' kin only earn 't. S' easier fer ye, wi' yer title - but a man 's down in th' courtyard, an' yer ventin' about yer title. Y' hae nae gone fer help, y' hae nae e'en come o'er and picked 'm up, y' hae nae gone lookin' fer th' enemy what did 't." He still holds Varal up gently - "Can y' two /please/ save 't fer a time when are nae enemies about, n' folks hurt?"

Celeste shakes her head, looking back to Varal and Kael. "Well said, Master Firelight. And Your grace, Light's blessings to you on your joyous day and may you always know happiness." She steps to the Mikin's other side, gently offering her own shoulder in support to freelander and count. "Shall we see about that temple?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Varal mutters, staring upwards. "Um. Let's stay here for now. I'm very happy lying on the ground. No risk of bleeding out anymore, and my head is killing me."

Voreyn Zahir has arrived.

"Master Firelight, the only reason I haven't broken your nose at this point is because I respect you. You know absolutely /nothing/ on what it means to be a noble, never presume to. Lord Mikin has been tended to, and I have news to deliver. Speak like that again, and you'll get worse than Celeste. Unlike her, I don't have to worry about Rowena trying to breathe down my neck for disciplining your insolence. If you consider to treat me as a joke, I'll show you how serious I am," coldly replies the Lomasa, his frown remaining as he slips into Palisade's saddle and takes up the reins. With a slight nudge to his charger's sides, Palisade moves off at a trot to the south.

Kael's eyes flicker - "anytime y' want t' put down yer armor 'n sword n' work out bein' mad 't me, yer welcome t' try, yer grace. An' find sommat else t' be yer Second. Wi' all respect, m' goin' t' try t' get a wounded man inta cover." He looks down to Varal. "C'mon - w' got t' get ye out o' th' street, one way o' another. If s' more trouble out there, I cannae keep y' safe." He moves to help, if he can. "W' /got/ t' get ye inside."

Celeste watches the duke ride off, shaking her head. "Well, I guess *not* telling her grace about his actions seems to have only proven me the fool once more." She leans down meet Varal's gaze. "We will need to get you to cover, cousin. So we can either do this the hard way or the easy. One involves me carrying you." She cants her head to look up at Kael. "It isn't worth it, Master Firelight. The man you once knew is gone, best to realize that now for with it went my friend."

Having discharged the duty he needed to take care of, Varal seems a little less lucid. "No, really. I'm fine. Just need to rest." Whatever poison was in his system seems to be taking its toll, and he loses consciousness a second time.

A carriage, having rolled in several minutes ago, opens to allow the Duchess Zahir to leave, armored and armed as if before. She pays the driver and proceeds to unhook her horse from the lead, and her attention is drawn toward the gathering a few paces away. Her green eyes flash in thought and slight amusement as she leads her horse around to the stables, one eyebrow quirked and her lips curved into a knowing smile. What it is she finds so funny, however, is unvoiced as she converses quietly with the stableboy to tend to her mount. The horse is led away, and she turns back to the group, hands clasped behind her back, eyeing the three a few paces away. "Good evening," she says by way of greeting and announcement, approaching with determined steps. Her gaze lands lastly on the downed Mikin, however, and the smile disappears rather quickly. One hand drops to the Chain at her belt and she squints. "What happened?"

Kael sheathes both knives, then - taking his time and looking up to the Dutchess - "E' got shot, wi' an arrow - Celeste hae seen t' him, yer grace, but ... 'es nae well. M' tryin' t' get 'm indoors - if y' woul', too? Coul' be more - Sari donnae see anythin', but.." With the knives put away, the young man does his best to lever Varal up and get him in a position to get carried out of the street.

"I fear that I shall need to see to a few matters then," replies Celeste. She dips her head quickly to Voreyn, "Light's Greetings, your grace." And she hurries back to her own mount. "Master Firelight, could you watch over him?"