Acorn on 26/10/2003 at 01:42
Kestril woke to a feeling of disturbed vertigo, gagging loudly on a mouthfull of dust. He was slipping, falling sideways. His arm groped weakly in the darkness for support and found the head of a large bolt stuck through a support post. Stabilized he gazed about in the pitch black trying to get his bearings. A few singing insects on the roof not far above confirmed that this was night time and nothing was wrong with his eyes. "Where?..." his parched throat croaked.
"No where at all." A muffled voice replied from the depths of his pack, "You have gone no where, because you hid us both away, more of your foolish thief's greed!"
"Shutup," Kestril grated. Now he recalled the incidents of some few hours, possibly days earlier. Sorcery... monsters... that angry woman.
She had dropped something.
Kestril grabbed a rope arrow out of his pack and stabbed it into the wood of the beam by hand, the rope unfurling all the way to the ground.... he hoped. It did if he remembered correctly. He eased his body out into the dark emptiness clutching the rope for support and validation that the blackness wasn't void after all--and slipped weakly downward to crash uncontrollably into the broken pews and rubble below, resulting in more bruises and a charlie horse to add to his misery. Nevertheless he dragged himself singlemindedly across the rubble using his last remaining flare to light his way to the spot where she had stood. There, next to that column an arrow, yellow? That's not fire... his befuddled mind considered the arrow's crystal for long minutes as the green light of his flare began to dim. Green. Everything looks greenish in the green light of the flare, but this arrow's crystal looks yellow. Why? Slowly the answer came to him from out of the past. Spilled paint from a broken cart mixing in the street, the colors changing..... Blue! Blue and yellow make green! Green and blue makes... "Yellow!" He picked up the stray arrow and, tilting his head back, broke the crystal over his face. Cool water washed into his mouth, along with a few gritty bits of crystal. It must have been ensorceled water because he immediately felt a hundred times better, though his body still ached and hungered.
"I guess its safe to go.." Kestril murmured, listening to the wind in the trees outside. Something didn't seem quite right, but then nothing now did... the Eye was keeping quiet. Perhaps it was fatigued now too...
He limped to the main doorway, looking more like the ragged maw of a cave after its own ordeal, and peered out at the trees and starry night sky. An owl hooted from a nearby branch. Were those little round shapes apples? He approached the nearest tree that seemed to be showing off its wares to best advantage and grabbed for the fruit, then shrank back as with a roar the tree grabbed for him....
Clutched in a woody embrace, the helpless thief was slung into a carrying position as the great tree beast began to ponderously move in the direction of Orwell Manor; the laughter of the eye echoing mercilessly in Kestril's brain.
Oneiroscope on 26/10/2003 at 02:31
Frobert dallied outside the walls. He kicked at some pebbles and grinned at nothing. So... A thief had entered the estate. Strange. Why had that wakened him? Yes a thief technically might be seen as a threat to the family, which by the old agreement he was obliged to deal with, but the girl seemed capable enough to deal with a housebreaker. One hardly needed a vampire to catch a burglar. Especially when the Lady of the house was a witch. Besides, she had denied him permission to enter the house. What then could he do?
Frob grumbled slightly, then tried to cheer himself by running with all his preternatural speed toward the guest house, where upon he leapt and sailed neatly onto the roof, then plopped down unceremoniously, sat crosslegged, and considered. There had to be something seriously wrong to have brought him to wakefulness. He had lain in torpor for some decades it seemed. In all that time nothing of grave threat to the family had happened or else he would have been compelled as he was now.
Well, there was nothing for it but to wait, it seemed. He began humming. Still, rather rude of the little scamp not to introduce herself. After all, he was... blood kin. The humming erupted into laughter. After a moment Frob decided it was time for a meal, before the hunger really had a chance to test his good spirits. Sheep, he decided, with a scowl. Horses always seemed to raise such a ruckus. And had excellent instincts about where to kick a man.
littlek on 27/10/2003 at 03:51
{{OOC: Hope you don't mind if I join in.}}
Fern used long deliberate strokes with the soft brush to bring the glossy coat of the chestnut mare to a coppery patina. Her coat glimmered even in the dim light of the oily lamp that hung from a nail over the door. The mare nickered softly and gratefully chewed on the crisp apple Fern had earlier smuggled out of the kitchen. She stroked the mares’ brow and smoothed her forelock so that it hung neatly between her large kind eyes. Fern never tired of gazing into the faraway look in the eyes of a horse. She balanced the brush on the edge of the stall door and pulled out a large comb from her back pocket to untangle the mares’ long tail. The mare reached out with her nose and gently pushed the brush off its precipice like she always did pretending to only sniff it and its fall was merely an accident. But Fern was familiar with the old game and a small smile crept across her thin mousy face. With a satisfied look in her eyes, the mare lowered her head into the manger to sift through the fragrant hay seeking only the choicest grasses to nibble on. Fern had already given her the best hay in the stack having earlier rejected several bales that she would later feed to the sheep. She was suddenly jolted back into the human world by the creak of a chair as someone sat in it. The mare quickly swung her head up, her ears focusing intently on the human in the chair. Hay stuck comically out of her mouth. They both watced over the stall door to spy on Levent sitting in the old chair in front of the stables. He seemed different….more alert somehow even through the haze of the Black Lotus he regularly smoked. Still the look in his smoky eyes had changed. Fern could not understand what had changed about him but she knew that she was now uneasy around Levent as if he were a stranger. He had always been so kind and each time turned his head whenever he caught her feeding the Lady’s precious apples to the horses. He understood her fearfulness and why she chose the company of horses over that of humans. The other servants to the Woodsie Witch ignored Fern and would gossip about her strange ways. Because of her wariness she had learned long ago how to be silent and disappear into the shadows. It was these skills that she used to sneak in the kitchen and listen to their gossip then forage for whatever supper was left over. And it was this same watchfulness that made her aware of the change in Levent and it appeared she and the horses were the only ones who sensed the change.
The mare returned to her manger but kept one ear tilted in the direction of where Levent waited. All the horses were uneasy tonight sensing evil and mischief. Fern felt it too. Especially after that ominous feeling she experienced earlier when it was as if another presence had briefly invaded her soul. The feeling was fleeting but it left her shaken and cold. It was soon after that she sensed something different about Levent. Now he just sat in the chair patiently waiting. Fern too waited.
Acorn on 27/10/2003 at 05:22
{OOC: To those of you reading along as we write, please don't be shy if you want to join in! Any one can play these. :cool: I think there are only two major rules to this type of writing. #1-if a character is in use by a writer in one place, they can't be made to "appear" in a second place at the same time, like way across town. Unless its a twin or doppleganger or something like that... so watch where Garrett and the other characters are at. :;-): AND #2 If there's an occurance going on somewhere; for instance a fight at a certain pub, and you write that you're walking in there, you have to "notice" what's happening, or if it is after the fight and nothing was cleaned up, notice the mess. That's pretty much it. Read and then write. You can add your own side story, whatever you want.. well, no spaceships or chainguns or stuff like that that's not quite thiefy enough...}
Kestril grimly rode the tree beast through the tangled midnight forest, an "Uhrgh" was jolted out of him and another at a sudden dip in the Ent's meandering path. If this kept up he was going to vomit. Those apples he had eaten during this "ride", if apples they were, weren't sitting well in his stomach. In fact, Kestril wouldn't have even tried to taste such suspect fruit had he known of the danger, and had he not already been captured. And starving. Another jolt brought stars of pain to his eyes. The gnarled knotty hide of the creature dug into the worst of his bruises with each of the Ent's ponderous steps, but he had long since ceased to struggle against the thing's woody grip which was stronger than iron shackles plus tactily sensitive to any movement to escape he might make. It should have killed him on sight. He knew how ferocious these creatures were, but attributed the Ent's singleminded actions to the machinations of the Eye. Though the direction they traveled, even in the dark he could tell, was the exact opposite to the one which the Eye had been nagging and threatening him to take if he was to be forced to return the artifacts he had plundered...
As Kestril contemplated these puzzling facts, the forest began to thin and open out into a gently rolling meadow with a small herd of sheep wandering about its periphery. A man (the shepherd?) sat on the grass under a lone conifer with a sheep sprawled in his lap. He appeared to be stroking its wooly hide in deep contemplation. Then he brought it to his lips. A kiss? Whoa. Well, to each his own but Kestril's situation was long past desperate. Kestril hailed the man, whom in the moon light he could now perceive was finely dressed as his strange mount strode up and passed without more than a sideways glance and threatening growl. "Sir, please!" Kestril called out, "You wouldn't be able to round up a large group of villagers with torches and pitchforks would you?"
The man's face rose from the neck of the animal smeared with dark blood, his eyes reflecting the moon animalistically causing Kestril's own mouth to drop open in surprise. Frob smiled and licked his lips, "I'm sorry young fellow, but your fate is completely out of my hands. Then again, perhaps you are better off..."
Kestril had a last chilling sight of the nobleman waving goodnaturedly with a cavalier laugh before rising to chase down another sheep, and then the Ent re-entered the woods at the other side of the meadow. There was light ahead through the trees, he noticed. Kestril had no doubt that he would soon know his fate...
Oneiroscope on 27/10/2003 at 05:24
{OOC: Welcome to the thread littlek! The more the merrier!}
Levent knew, somehow, that Acorn would be coming. He had wakened from a strange dream, a nightmare, and had known that soon Acorn would be coming to talk to him. He sat and watched the stable yard, expecting at any moment the door to the manor would swing open and Acorn would come striding out. Levent's head ached. He was a bit out of sorts, but that was to be expected. Black Lotus always left him quite sleepy and prone to strange flights of fancy.
Perhaps what was odd was that rather than the feeling of grogginess he might have expected, he felt quite alert. As if somehow all of the drug had washed out of his system while he had slept. But perhaps that was because of the gravity of the subject he needed to discuss with Acorn. One did not speak of the Eye with resolute calmness.
He knew that the Hammers had secreted the Eye in the old church. That was one of the reasons he had been assigned to the Orwells. But whence came the dream that had filled him with such certainty that it had been stolen? Why was he so sure? He was even contemplating revealing himself as a Keeper! Suddenly a sharp pain stabbed into his temple. It became hard to think.
"Are you...Are you well, Levent?" The timorous voice of Fern drifted from the shadows.
"Eh? Oh. Yes. Just a headache." His hand dropped from his temple. Levent turned to face her. "Why are you hiding, girl? Afraid of old Lev, are you?" The girl slowly showed herself, some ten feet to the left of where she had previously spoken to him. Such stealth. He smiled weakly. She might have made a great Keeper. Fern saw his face go ashen and his eyes narrow as another wave of pain hit him.
"I will bring the Lady, Levent. You are ill!" Levent stared at her. Fern took a step backwards. Levents face was unreadable.
"Yes. Do that. Bring her. Thank you."
Oneiroscope on 27/10/2003 at 06:02
Garrett flashed across the hall, from one shadow to the next. Out came the lockpicks. He leaned his head out into the light, just far enough to peek down the hall. A servant cross at the intersection several doors down, oblivious to his presence.
He darted to the door in front of him, knelt and had the lock picked inside of three breaths. He entered, doused the oil lamp that guttered on a low table, and waited in a corner for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. A window looked out on the estate and let in soft light from the stars.
When Garrett could see the room well enough, he got to work. It was a servants quarters, that much was obvious. A straw bed, simple furniture. Probably slim pickings, but you never knew. Best to be thorough. He grinned. After all, it all went to a worthy cause: paying his rent.
He lifted the lid on a small box that sat next to the lamp on the table. A few open letters, written in a flowery hand. Got a girl, has he? Good for him. Nothing else of interest. Next came the footlocker. It was unlocked, mostly clothes, but Garret found a small pouch with three silver pieces inside. Not the grand prize, but what the hell.
A sound outside sent him into the corner again. He peeked though the window, careful to let only the tiniest sliver of his face be illuminated by the starlight. Tree Beasts! This just gets better and better. Don't they ever weed the grounds around here? He saw something more as the creatures approached. A figure was being held by on of the Ents. A figure in black. Well, well. Seems a competitor has gotten himself pinched. I wonder if he managed to steal anything first?
Something disturbed Garrett though. Tree Beasts didn't usually decide to take you home like a child would bring baby Burrick to mother as a pet. Usually they just pounded on you until you stopped moving. So why were they such pacifists all of a sudden? Garrett didn't have the answer. But he decided he wanted it.
Acorn on 27/10/2003 at 06:11
The Ent carrying Kestril came to a stop in a grassy area just outside the main gate. It altered its grip on the thief, pulling him down from its leafy shoulder and dumping him unceremoniously to the ground, bringing forth a grunt and an angry kick from its human cargo. The tree beast then went ridged, clasping Kestril with one arm and raising its other to the fading stars, its task complete. The other two Ents took up station a bit farther away, likewise pointing to the heavens. Dawn was approaching and as if to validate the hour, the echo of a door slamming crossed the field from the general direction of the Guest house.
Acorn woke to a tap tapping, a gentle rapping at her chamber door.
"Nevermore.." she groaned and knocked an empty wine glass from her nightstand as she reached for the robe that was draped across the back of the chair.
:cheeky:
She rose and went to the door, opening it to find a servant, Fern her name was, already dressed and fidgeting nervously.
"You folks really do rise with the roosters don't you?" Acorn "who never got out of bed before noon" remarked sleepily but impressed.
"Mistress, you must come. Levent is sick. Something is very wrong with him, and the guards say that some Ents have arrived with a man whom they hold prisoner outside the yard."
"Levent?!" Acorn asked with a worried frown wondering if the poor man had OD'ed this time. What could be wrong with him so suddenly? "Come, I'll see what I can do for him. Fetch some hot water and powdered snapdragon seeds, and use the pan pipes to call over one of those floatsy musical things. Perhaps his body will recover from this malady more easily with the Black Lotus cleaned from his system. And a healing draughtor two cannot hurt him either..."
Acorn hurried through the Mansion toward the side door that let out near the barn. A few side tables in the hallways, she noticed, seemed to carry less in the way of decoration. Weren't there some gold candlesticks on those two round topped stands next to the staircase when she had moved in? Odd... but first she must deal with Levent... and then the stranger no doubt captured skulking around the abandoned church.
Oneiroscope on 27/10/2003 at 07:44
Deep within the thoughts of the Keeper, Guille pondered. He sensed the Eye had come much closer. He decided that he must investigate before acting. Sending the Keeper into a light sleep, he left the man's mind and raced throught the ether toward the Eye. There he found the thief and Ents!
The mind of the thief was a cacophany of panic, despite his determination to remain calm. Guille also saw the minds of the pagans who surrounded the thief. Suspicion was deep in them, as might be expected, but they did not seem especially suprised. Again, Guille felt for any cracks that might enable him to simply grab the Eye and make his escape. But alas, the pagans were by and large healthy and well adjusted.
So be it. Even if he were to possess one of them and secure the Eye, while he might have some time before the others reacted, he would surely be riddled with arrows before he'd gotten very far. Propelling an animated corpse over them many leagues to Bagmoor would be prohibitively difficult.
Even now, with the relatively modest effort required to control the Keeper, Guille knew his rotted husk would be suffering from the strain. The cost of making the journey in the putrefying brain of a zombie would likely reduce him to little more than a spectre. Guille returned to the Keeper, just as the woman Acorn was shaking his shoulder to wake him.
"Levent! Wake up!"
Levent's eyes shot open. He saw Acorn bending over him, a look of deep concern on her face.
"Be easy, little sapling. I'm awake. All is well."
Acorn looked at him with doubt.
"I shook you for quite a while, Lev. What ails you? Fern says you have a headache?"
She felt his forhead for any sign of fever. There was none.
"It's gone, now." He took her hand and held her eyes in his gaze. "Acorn, we must talk. Alone. It's important." Acorn held his hand for a moment then looked at him sternly.
"Gone, eh? Like the time when that crazy stallion Brandybuck broke three of your ribs? Like the time when you fell off the stable roof and cracked your skull open? You'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it you old fool. I've had Fern make you some tea, and you WILL drink it. Now sit back and I will see if I can divine what the trouble is." She pushed him back and clasped her hands on his head. Fern, watching from a distance with the tea on a tray, saw Levents eyes go wild. Her jaw dropped when he pushed her violently away.
"Listen to me, woman! What I have to say may mean not only your life but the lives of thousands!"
Acorn was in shock. Levent had never spoken to her in that tone of voice. It was the voice he used on those stableboys idiotic enough to mistreat the horses. Or on dishonest blacksmiths. Never to a friend. Most especially never to her .
"Fern?" Acorn turned, utterly composed. Fern curtsied, eyes on the ground. "Please leave the tea and then go make sure the guards don't mistreat our guest."
"Yes, Lady." Fern quickly deposited the tea on the chair next to Levent, the cups rattled on the silver. Then the girl disappeared so suddenly it was like she was never there.
"Very well, Lev. What did you want to tell me?" Levent raised his eyes from the ground.
"Milady, please forgive..."
"Never mind that, Lev. What is it?"
Levent cleared his throat, not sure at first how to begin, but then the words came almost of their own accord.
"Lady Orwell, I must at long last reveal my secret to you. I am a Keeper. A member of a secret order dedicated to maintaining the balance of power in the world, and preserving its knowledge. I was posted with your family in order to keep watch both on you, and more recently, an object of terrible power hidden in the old church by the Hammerites. That object is called the Eye. It has come to my attention that a power exists that wishes to use the Eye to destroy the world. It is therefore of paramount importance that the Eye be moved to a new hiding place. " Levent paused, rubbed his temple, and blinked in confusion, before continuing. "That place...Uh...That place is Bagmoor Keep." Here Levent rubbed at his mouth. Sweat began beading on his forehead. "Bagmoor Keep."
Suddenly Levent slapped both his hands to his head and screamed. He fell from his chair. Acorn was at his side as if shot from a bow. The Keeper writhed in her arms for a while then lost consciousness. Acorn felt a cool breeze on the back of her neck. goosebumps rose on her arms. Bagmoor Keep? A Keeper? Lev, a Keeper? Acorn felt as if the world had just flipped on it's axis. What more could this interminable night hold?
Guille left the Keeper's mind in shambles. The man would be in a comatose sleep for many days. Even when he awoke, the powerful suggestions the lich had left would ensure that if questioned, Levent would confirm the need to go to Bagmoor. The Keeper had found some hidden wellspring of strength there at the end. After all, he'd never even heard of Bagmoor Keep until Guille had forced the words out of his mouth.
Guille needed to rest. The work on the Keeper had been tiring, and he yearned to be near the Stone once again. When he had rested, he would resume his efforts. He knew whom to possess next. The servant girl's mind was strong, but a flaw crept along her thoughts like a crack in a china cup. Let Leaf put on a show to convince the witch to heed Guille's words. Yes. And then he would sit like a spider in it's web, and watch from within the eyes of Fern.
Acorn on 27/10/2003 at 08:41
Garrett watched and listened from the shadow of the stable rafters. He had gained entrance to the building by lowering himself out through one of the mansion windows and dashing across the grounds to scale a ladder that led up to the big square opening in the hay loft and then finally sneaking into a secluded vantage point.
"Well, that explains a few things" he thought as the noblewoman comforted her ailing manservant, "Bagmoor Keep. Strange place to house the Eye... I would think some sort of holy shrine would be the usual containment area for such a dangerous weapon... And why would a Keeper break his sacred oath and reveal himself for ANY reason? Something isn't quite right here."
The Keeper had screamed horribly and fallen into unconsciousness, and Lady Orwell was calling for some servants to carry him to his room and tend to him. As this was done, she rose wringing her hands and walked to the entrance gazing for a moment at the sunrise, then striding briskly away toward the front gates. The place where the captured thief had been taken.
"Time for an invisibility potion" Garrett mused reaching into his pack, "maybe I can help this guy out... for a percentage..."
{OOC: Hey guys, now that there's more of us and our characters are all in the same place it seems to be getting a little harder. I don't want to end up posting something that somebody else is already posting about and then I have to erase my conflicting post, so should we add a rule that says someone calls dibbs on going next? Maybe do it when you're about to write something right then-but don't call dibbs now and post tomorrow- and we'll wait until its posted? Wadaya think?}
Oneiroscope on 27/10/2003 at 09:13
{OOC: Sounds good to me. Should help avoid messiness. Especially for me, since I get all inspired and write big huge posts. A little earlier today I noticed we came close once to posting simultaneously. Woulda been a drag if one of us (probably me, since my post came after yours) had to chop up something we had so lovingly crafted. I think I will wait for someone else to post before I go again. I'm starting to feel guilty when I post two or three times in a row!:o I do have an idea for Leaf's "show" though, so I'd appreciate it if nobody beats me to it.}
