1395 (IC, Historical, Closed)

[Emlyn Cuch]

Dafydd reined up, leading his other horse behind him, to look at the boat. He winced as he saw a man fall off and into the water. Turning away from the river and making especial attention to ignore the others, he slapped his spurs to his own animal and attempted to ride off at an impressive gallop.

The horse he was riding shied and humped its back, then started off at a bouncing trot instead. Dafydd had trouble keeping his lance steady and he refused to look back at the boat, instead choosing a course that weaved behind some buildings and along the coast.

[Nalaya]

"It is very possible to take a horse on a boat. And this will be a relatively short journey, as I understand," Ashkhen said calmly, stroking her own horse's neck. She wasn't keen on another ship herself, yet the mission was important. They needed to have the group together, but how was the simple question. If these men were anything like they seemed... "Unless of course you are such a poor horseman that you cannot control your steed on a ship?" There was an unspoken challenge to prove her wrong in her voice.

She bowed slightly to Anselm. "Hail, friend. Are you another of our group? If so, let us be boarded and away soon. We can speak when this port is vanishing behind us."

[Snefaldia]

As the harbormaster spluttered and wiped water from his face, Ɖum-nŏ-gën laughed uproariously and looked around at his newfound party.

"Aye, Aksha! You needed a bath anyway." he said with a wide smile, catching the sight of Dafydd riding off in the opposite direction.

"It seems the Welshman is going to try to make his own way... and not by sea."

The sodden Taxilha wrung water from his beard and looked up, incredulous. "What, what? He'll not get far if he's going overland, up the Plateau way. It's a full days ride just to the Greens, and another three to the nearest town."

Ɖum-nŏ-gën shrugged. "We're here for business, as is he, but whether we cross paths again, who can say? We're wanting to shove off soon anyhow, northbound."

Aksha coughed and held out his hand, and with a grumble the mercenary veteran obliged, dropping a few copper pieces into his hand. "Aksha, you beached fish, I can always count on you. News from Upriver?"

The harbormaster smiled with his gap-toothed jaw and held out his hand again, receiving several more begrudging coppers. "Keep to the west shore, if you can. The fishermen pay tribute to the City there, but on the east there's a bit of dispute with the Forest Folk. I'd stay west if I could; the rock-clingers will be friendly all over, but if there's some of the long-haired Forest Folk there... well!'

With coins in hand, the squat Taxilhan wandered off to collect more bribes, and Ɖum-nŏ-gën turned to the little group. "Well, comrades! I'd say there's no use waiting for the pale colleague who's just galloped off... what say we shove off? Hidde, Captain's ready?"

[Knootoss]

"As ready as he'll ever be. All aboard!" Hidde called out good-naturedly. He then raised his voice further, so that anyone below-decks would be able to hear him. "Keptin, we're good to go! All hands are on board."

The captain, a man who seemed barely older, and who certainly wasn't better-dressed than anyone else, came above deck and began to shout orders in the nautical parlance of the time. And while these orders would certainly have been difficult to understand if they had been shouted in perfect Tausite, they were surely impossible to understand in the northern Germanic dialects to which the crew had grown accustomed.

Still, the shouting had the desired effect. The ship sprang to life, and all those men who had seemed to be going about their business just moments before now worked together as a team to heave the massive sail, tie sturdy knots and man the rudder to steer the Fridian cog away from the docks and, finally, into the river.

"May the winds be fair to us now, eh?" Hidde managed to ask his fellow adventurers, even as he inspected the main hatch. Other sailors, meanwhile, went to take care of the animals.

[Krioval]

She bowed slightly to Anselm. "Hail, friend. Are you another of our group? If so, let us be boarded and away soon. We can speak when this port is vanishing behind us."

"You could say that. My position is a complicated one among these fine gentlemen," Anselm said, allowing the slightest trace of sarcasm to enter his tone. "I suppose that I will be along for the ride, in any case. What brings you to this lovely, albeit rainy, part of the world?"

[Nalaya]

She bowed slightly to Anselm. "Hail, friend. Are you another of our group? If so, let us be boarded and away soon. We can speak when this port is vanishing behind us."

"You could say that. My position is a complicated one among these fine gentlemen," Anselm said, allowing the slightest trace of sarcasm to enter his tone. "I suppose that I will be along for the ride, in any case. What brings you to this lovely, albeit rainy, part of the world?"

"If I knew, I would gladly answer you. I am on a pilgrimage. I will walk until I have seen enough, and then I will return. What called me to this place is anyone's guess," Ashkhen said politely. "I am Knight-Captain Ashkhen Zmroudkh. How do you style yourself?"

[Krioval]

"If I knew, I would gladly answer you. I am on a pilgrimage. I will walk until I have seen enough, and then I will return. What called me to this place is anyone's guess," Ashkhen said politely. "I am Knight-Captain Ashkhen Zmroudkh. How do you style yourself?"

"I am Anselm of Konstanz." When there was no visible reaction, he continued. "A soldier on pilgrimage? I suppose one could say the same about me. You have incredible skill on horseback, Knight-Captain. I was never terribly good at it myself."

[Nalaya]

"If I knew, I would gladly answer you. I am on a pilgrimage. I will walk until I have seen enough, and then I will return. What called me to this place is anyone's guess," Ashkhen said politely. "I am Knight-Captain Ashkhen Zmroudkh. How do you style yourself?"

"I am Anselm of Konstanz." When there was no visible reaction, he continued. "A soldier on pilgrimage? I suppose one could say the same about me. You have incredible skill on horseback, Knight-Captain. I was never terribly good at it myself."

"A soldier of heaven, Anselm of Konstanz," Ashkhen said with a smile. "I am but a servant. And you yourself have the look of a learned man. I envy you that greatly...I did not have the opportunity to ever learn my letters. Where I am from, it is...frowned upon, unless you are a member of the correct caste. But someday, that will change."

She held out her hand to him in a proper greeting. Whether or not he was truly a good man, only time would tell. But she liked the look of him, in a strange way. Someone else who wandered searching for a meaning. Besides, he conducted himself with more respect than most in this country. It endeared him to the warrior of St.Dismas.

[Snefaldia]

With the party aboard, the oars were out and straining to pull the ship from the Lees Wharf. The animals had been tied up on the main deck, with no room for them below with the quarters, the hold, and the cadre of Frisians and their charges swept out into the wide Saard waters.

The Saard itself was indigo and flat as a mirror in the morning light; the Fortuyn cut into the water and out past the farthest dock in the Lees. It was lucky for the square-sailed ship that day; the slow morning wind had just begun to pick up, light and steady, a southern wind carrying the warm waters of the Fuschal up into Allasha and Neer Dal. The Captain called the order and the white sail unfurled, and with another called order the cog tacked to port and onto a beam reach.

The morning wind caught the white sail and the red-and-blue Frisian ensign and slid through the water, heading northward. The on the East and West bank the sheer cliffs of the Shahd rose up, the mound of Taxilha shining in the morning sun in the west, and along the base of the cliffs pillars of natural stone rose, dotted with small cabins and docks, high up from the waterline at least thirty feet, clinging to the rocks like human barnacles. It was just dawn and already the fishermen were drawing back in to count their early catch; the fish themselves were jumping in the cool morning and it was true to be a full haul.

The sound of a great bell sounded, three times in quick succession, then once, and then thrice again. On the pinnacle of the eastern bank there was a huge tower rising into the air, surmounted by a four-pillared bronze basin, beneath which was another four-pillared basin from which a great bronze bell hung. Ɖum-nŏ-gën, taking a sip from a wineskin, pointed.

"The Watchtower. They can see for five miles from the top, to sound the morning and the watch bells. There are six of them, thirty miles chain on either side of the river. Only heard it sounded in battle once myself." he fell silent, murmuring and making arcane hand motions to the water and the tower. He poured a little bit of the red wine in his skin over the side into the water. "Keep the River quenched, and she won't need your blood." he said with a wink at Ashkhen.

[Krioval]

"A soldier of heaven, Anselm of Konstanz," Ashkhen said with a smile. "I am but a servant. And you yourself have the look of a learned man. I envy you that greatly...I did not have the opportunity to ever learn my letters. Where I am from, it is...frowned upon, unless you are a member of the correct caste. But someday, that will change."

She held out her hand to him in a proper greeting. Whether or not he was truly a good man, only time would tell. But she liked the look of him, in a strange way. Someone else who wandered searching for a meaning. Besides, he conducted himself with more respect than most in this country. It endeared him to the warrior of St.Dismas.

"The system by which people are bound by their lords must change if the world is to advance. There are simply too many poor souls looking for decent work to keep their families fed. Perhaps the Church will do more to promote justice, but it is too soon to say for certain." Anselm grasped the Knight-Captain's hand and shook it firmly. "For a woman to be a warrior, and under the banner of faith, would make the hearts of many in my homeland stop from shock. Your culture has that going for it."

The sound of a great bell sounded, three times in quick succession, then once, and then thrice again. On the pinnacle of the eastern bank there was a huge tower rising into the air, surmounted by a four-pillared bronze basin, beneath which was another four-pillared basin from which a great bronze bell hung. Ɖum-nŏ-gën, taking a sip from a wineskin, pointed.

"The Watchtower. They can see for five miles from the top, to sound the morning and the watch bells. There are six of them, thirty miles chain on either side of the river. Only heard it sounded in battle once myself." he fell silent, murmuring and making arcane hand motions to the water and the tower. He poured a little bit of the red wine in his skin over the side into the water. "Keep the River quenched, and she won't need your blood." he said with a wink at Ashkhen.

Anselm watched the ritual with interest, noting the gestures and the speech carefully. They practice sorcery here so openly? "Ah, but how to know if a bout of thirst were to overcome her? Would she prefer the taste of one raised on her waters, or does the enticing flavor of a foreigner slake her desires more effectively?" He laughed lightly. "Just in case I find myself meeting her acquaintance more personally in the future."

[Snefaldia]

Ɖum-nŏ-gën frowned, looking between the water and Anselm. "Guard your speech,. man." he said sharply. "It's flood season now, and the Lady Saard is still thin from winter. Best pray to your gods that she doesn't swell with the waters of the north until we're well away."

With his left hand, he fingered a silver chain wrapped in his long hair, scanning the horizon waters as the ship slid along. "Fear and love her, Lady Saard, she gives life and takes it." he muttered to himself.

[Nalaya]

Ɖum-nŏ-gën frowned, looking between the water and Anselm. "Guard your speech,. man." he said sharply. "It's flood season now, and the Lady Saard is still thin from winter. Best pray to your gods that she doesn't swell with the waters of the north until we're well away."

With his left hand, he fingered a silver chain wrapped in his long hair, scanning the horizon waters as the ship slid along. "Fear and love her, Lady Saard, she gives life and takes it." he muttered to himself.

"A wise soul pays its dues to the spirits of all things," Ashkhen said warmly. She very much approved of Ɖum-nŏ-gën's actions, but without the cloud of superstition that so often followed sorcerers and the like. The Knight-Captain looked down at the river, watching the waters flow by with a hint of a smile on her face. It was reassuring to see someone else who favored the spirits rather than the cruel specter of Azyran and his crimson-robed priests. "I hope your offerings please her, Ɖum-nŏ-gën. Perhaps I shall make my own before the evening has set."

[The Altani Confederacy]

Yesukai, listening silently to the words of Ɖum-nŏ-gën and Ashkhen, made a noise of approval. "You are wise to show the proper respect to the spirits. My people believe that all things have a spirit, and that they carry the force of life within them. All things share this world with us, and if one demonstrates the spirits proper respect and lives in harmony with them, one will enjoy balance and harmony in life." With a slight smile, he looked at Anselm and then at the waters around them. "It is also wise to propitiate those who you depend on for safe travel, whether you believe or not. I, for one, will be making my own offerings to the spirits of the water this day."

[Krioval]

Anselm nodded gravely. "By all means, make offerings to whomever you feel will reward you in turn. I should recommend strongly that one of our company request that the crew of this vessel not void themselves directly into the river. I have a feeling that Her Ladyship might not find such an 'offering' to her liking." His expression brightened. "I am thirsty. I have a small store of Frisian ale liberated some weeks ago that is still in good condition. Would anybody care to partake?"

[Nalaya]

Anselm nodded gravely. "By all means, make offerings to whomever you feel will reward you in turn. I should recommend strongly that one of our company request that the crew of this vessel not void themselves directly into the river. I have a feeling that Her Ladyship might not find such an 'offering' to her liking." His expression brightened. "I am thirsty. I have a small store of Frisian ale liberated some weeks ago that is still in good condition. Would anybody care to partake?"

Ashkhen gave Anselm a slight, somewhat amused smile. "That depends, my friend. Will you extend the same invitation to the Lady Saard? I do not fancy drinking my ale at the bottom of her waters," she said. It was a slight tease of the man, as he seemed altogether too caught up in the philosophy of such things. In her homeland, it was understood that all things in the world possessed spirits. They were not feared or mistrusted, just acknowledged in the same way that rain falls from the sky and fire burns.

Perhaps that was the hardest part of living under the Church of Azyran. The damned snake-priests had done their best to crush those traditions. The tombs of ancestral heroes were desecrated, wayshrines burned, oracles murdered. It made the whole land sick.

[Snefaldia]

Ɖum-nŏ-gën was prepared to make some kind of dispute about spiritual matters, but the offer of ale quickly distracted him. "A good draught if the Captain doesn't object, and I'd say he take part! Aye, Hidde knows the Captain's mind, I think, but I'll not have the helmsman take drink if it means we end up on the rocks."

He laughed and spit on the deck of the ship. After a moment, he unrolled the sheepskin map, tracing the lines of blue, black, and red with long fingers, fingers unusually fine for a man who knew such a hard life.

"The northerner is a cruel man, sending us so far north." he murmured, tapping a spot on the map. "Taygattë is cold even in midsummer, and the people are a different sort from their cousins, different bones. Knew a man from Taygattë, handy with an axe, but he was too much mallash."

He looked up, eying the horizon, and the wind shifted ever so slightly, the ship groaning in the water to take the larboard breeze. "They've got a weird queen up there, beautiful and cold." he went on, relaying some of the lore of the north. "She killed all the arsaths that came her way to preach Aatem Nal, until ebt Awmen himself went. Least, that's what they say Upriver. Never quite went the full length, I think, which is why she gives this wild ascetic his seat. With a name like Savongla he must be full mallash himself and they've got weirding ways and the Bear's sorcery."

"Aatem Nal, some of them don't go in for magic. They talk a big game about unity and such, but then there's Tavvakum..." he fell silent, turning his attention to the map. "Where's the ale, then?" he said gruffly, rubbing the scar on his face.

[Krioval]

Ashkhen gave Anselm a slight, somewhat amused smile. "That depends, my friend. Will you extend the same invitation to the Lady Saard? I do not fancy drinking my ale at the bottom of her waters," she said. It was a slight tease of the man, as he seemed altogether too caught up in the philosophy of such things. In her homeland, it was understood that all things in the world possessed spirits. They were not feared or mistrusted, just acknowledged in the same way that rain falls from the sky and fire burns.

Perhaps that was the hardest part of living under the Church of Azyran. The damned snake-priests had done their best to crush those traditions. The tombs of ancestral heroes were desecrated, wayshrines burned, oracles murdered. It made the whole land sick.

"The Lady Saard may partake if she wishes, but I cannot invite her into my cabin, as I prefer the ship to remain afloat." Anselm maintained a serious demeanor for several seconds before laughing. "Come, come. I will not refuse what hospitality I can offer to any who has not offered me harm. Besides, the captain seldom allows me guests. Not that I am terribly popular back home these days."

"The northerner is a cruel man, sending us so far north." he murmured, tapping a spot on the map. "Taygattë is cold even in midsummer, and the people are a different sort from their cousins, different bones. Knew a man from Taygattë, handy with an axe, but he was too much mallash."

He looked up, eying the horizon, and the wind shifted ever so slightly, the ship groaning in the water to take the larboard breeze. "They've got a weird queen up there, beautiful and cold." he went on, relaying some of the lore of the north. "She killed all the arsaths that came her way to preach Aatem Nal, until ebt Awmen himself went. Least, that's what they say Upriver. Never quite went the full length, I think, which is why she gives this wild ascetic his seat. With a name like Savongla he must be full mallash himself and they've got weirding ways and the Bear's sorcery."

"Aatem Nal, some of them don't go in for magic. They talk a big game about unity and such, but then there's Tavvakum..." he fell silent, turning his attention to the map. "Where's the ale, then?" he said gruffly, rubbing the scar on his face.

Anselm regarded Ɖum-nŏ-gën with mild interest. "I know from cold, being born in the mountains. And I once traveled with a Norseman what felt nearly like to the edge of the Earth. It's part of what got me in so much trouble back then. Adventurous days, those." He caught himself and pushed the reminiscence out of the way. "The ale is in my cabin, if you will follow. This way. And mind the step at the entryway. Can't tell you how many times I tripped over the thing when I started here."

[Nalaya]

Anselm regarded Ɖum-nŏ-gën with mild interest. "I know from cold, being born in the mountains. And I once traveled with a Norseman what felt nearly like to the edge of the Earth. It's part of what got me in so much trouble back then. Adventurous days, those." He caught himself and pushed the reminiscence out of the way. "The ale is in my cabin, if you will follow. This way. And mind the step at the entryway. Can't tell you how many times I tripped over the thing when I started here."

"Most of my country is mountains heaped upon mountains," Ashkhen said with a wistful fondness in her tone as she followed Anselm. Ale and conversation was better than getting in the way of the sailors. "It breeds hard people. But my home city is where the northern seas meet the the lowlands of the Kshehrk Mountains--the heavy cavalry there best even Yeraskh's steeds. I think it is what let us chase Azyran's red-hoods back to Sevan. They fear the sound of iron hooves."

There was a hint of pride in the holy warrior's expression. There were few things in the world she loved more than fighting from horseback, the shock of the lance hitting that jarred her shoulder to life...hooves pounding like the trump of doom... Someday, they would ride the length of her homeland and drive all the Serpent God's sycophants out, and the whole country would breathe freely again.

[Emlyn Cuch]

The Welshman rode across the plateau, moving his horses at a leisurely walk. He didn't know the territory, but it was better than riding on the boat. He whistled as he rode, heading for the distant mountains on his own.

Hmmf, at least you know how I make road-trips in RL.

[Snefaldia]

OOC: Again, there is only one way to head upriver, and it isn't along the coast. You have to go overland on the plateau.

[The Altani Confederacy]

Yesukai grinned at the prospect of ale, walking behind Ashkhen and Anselm. "Whoever these red-hoods are, they are wise to fear the sound of approaching hooves. The people where I am from have learned to fear it as well. It means my kinsmen are approaching, and none can hope to stand against them," he said, a slightly wistful tone in his voice at the thought of it. "I wonder how your cavalry would fare against my Horde," he added, with a mischievous glance at Ashkhen. "Either way, it would be a glorious battle, I imagine."

[Nalaya]

Yesukai grinned at the prospect of ale, walking behind Ashkhen and Anselm. "Whoever these red-hoods are, they are wise to fear the sound of approaching hooves. The people where I am from have learned to fear it as well. It means my kinsmen are approaching, and none can hope to stand against them," he said, a slightly wistful tone in his voice at the thought of it. "I wonder how your cavalry would fare against my Horde," he added, with a mischievous glance at Ashkhen. "Either way, it would be a glorious battle, I imagine."

"I am eager to see that," Ashkhen said with a grin. "Perhaps we shall have to test it in practice? We are more armored, both rider and horse, but I have heard stories of the horse bow used by such hordes. It can cause a great deal of trouble in large numbers."

[The Altani Confederacy]

"That it can. Once we're on dry land again, I'll take you up on that practice," Yesukai smiled. "And that can't come soon enough," he added, looking around at the boat and the water surrounding them with distaste. "Now, someone said something about ale, right?"

[Krioval]

"Yes, yes. Glorious battles and all that. I've seen enough of those for several lifetimes, I would think." Anselm walked into the small quarters. On the ground were various books on makeshift shelves and bound in place with thin metal chains. Many of the texts were religious in nature, though many dealt with natural philosophy, metallurgy, and other technical subjects. There were a few small chairs, a desk, and a small bed, and of course, the promised ale. He briskly collected the few books on the floor and chairs and set them atop the desk before rummaging for cups, or at least something approximating cups. "Please make yourselves comfortable. Mind the sword in the corner, I just sharpened its edge last week."

[Snefaldia]

Ɖum-nŏ-gën wasted no time in finding the cask and tapping it, ignoring everyone else and taking a large gulp of the brew. The space was tiny, and his huge frame force the others out of the way momentarily. "Lucky man to have a door to close at all!" he said, moving backward with a pleased look on his face. "The Frisians share all, and I wager you're not a likedeeler if you've got a cabin and don't have to sling betwixt the hull. But a good ale and a religious man, so I wager you're special in some sort.

He cast his scarred eye around at the group. "How does it sit in your belly, being aboard a privateer? Young Hidde sees his share of the rough life, and I daresay while we're afloat at the ship's guest we'll see a good bit of raiding." he gave a devlish smile. "A man like me going north again, and I know how the privateers run- used to guard the vessels on the trip down from Thiestilm, and on this river it's rough going some patches."

He spit on the deck and gulped some of the ale. "Dangerous maybe, but for our Welsh friend even more so... by the road he took, I'd offer a prayer. Likely be dead by nightfall, running off by himself. Either way, by tomorrow we're well away from the towers, and into the free waters where the shipping is good. Good raiding."

As he spoke, however, the wind had subtly shifted again, imperceptibly driving the ship ever-so-slightly eastward.

---

The guards at the precipice above Taxilha would have warned Dafydd about the dangers of going out into the plateau, alone and only the provisions he had about him, but they were so shocked to see him ride out they hadn't the chance, except to shake their heads and settle back down to their dice, watching out over the bustling seaport.

The Shahd was a dangerous, barren place. It was rocky and rough, with boltholes and cenotes dotting the vast red-and-yellow expanse. No trees, and almost no water. How the southern mallash lived there, no one knew, and none had ever survive meeting them long enough to find out much about them. The occasional party defeated by a well-guarded caravan yielded little; like the ameq mallash of the far north they revered the white cave bear, using the teeth and bones of the great creature as a totem, but they also revered the eagle and smeared their faces and chests with black ink. What metalwork they knew was of small quality and amounts; mainly copper devices. The traders knew their cries; the trilling shriek of the mallash caused nightmares as they emerged from their hiding places in the plateau.

Always at nightfall, always at twilight, and in the earliest morning after the first bell. Dafydd had his early start, it was true, but to cover the whole plateau in twelve hours was impossible- if his horse didn't stumble among the rocks, he would be forced to set down in one of the rocky boltholes, hoping it wasn't already inhabited by a snake or scorption, or even worse the mallash themselves.