[Grumhog]
Grumhog smiled a wolfish smile. Voel would be most pleased with the outcome of today's hunt, and the men were high in spirits.
He looked at the captives from a distance, their limp bodies lying peacefully on the ground, surrounded by the spirit stones that the Voel had found for him. Those whom he had annointed with pigs blood would find themselves unable to leave the circle of their own free will. It would not hurt them, but they would find it unconscionable.
He heard cheers to one side of the circle as the bonfire finally caught alight, spreading a fierce yellow glow into the dusk light.
His feet moved forward towards the circle of spirits, carrying him as if possessed. He was no longer the wolfman, but he could smell the excitement in the air.
He stopped when he had reached the limp bodies of his enemies. A woman lay prostrated at his feet, her hair covering her face and her body straining against the ropes which bound her. He admired the sight, deciding that he would let the men have some fun before the ceremony.
He walked around the group then, kicking them all until they moved, his voice shouting for them to awaken. Several of his men had wandered from the bonfire to stand at the ring of circles, watching, while others lit the other bonfire on the opposite side of the stones. They knew the powers of the stones would keep Grumhog safe, but did not dare enter themselves.
[Laurelyn]
Laurelyn was too dizzy to bite back the cry that issued from her lips when a boot kicked at her wounded side. The pain was so sharp that she nearly lost consciousness again, but some instinct demanded she wake up.
[Daron]
Rough kicks to her side and wounded leg rudely awakened Daron from her unnatural sleep. She dry heaved from a combination of coppery blood scent and the foul stench which clung to her clothes, skin and hair that caused her prior unconsciousness.
Daron picked up on the thoughts of the "leader", images full of bloodlust...and other, more primal urges...
Her eyes and throat burned from more dry heaving.
[Jacques]
Trying to spit the awful taste out of his mouth, Jacques came to with a familiar flow of consciousness. There had been more nights spent comatose after an excess of alcohol than even most accountants could keep track of, and this felt just like one more.
He spat again.
Maybe one more where they'd spiked the lager with something that tasted like the inside of his pony's ears.
He felt the breeze across his scalp, and realised that there were no jangling bells. Somewhere along the line the bandits had obviously taken his hat.
He coughed. And spat again, though it wasn't achieving anything, and with his face near buried in the grass, it wasn't going anywhere useful either.
At least he still had his jester uniform. There were a few party tricks left yet. Or, there would be if he could manage the miracle of getting his hands free. Someone had obviously thought about jesters being somewhat dextrous and made sure the ropes were tight and gave no play to his wrists.
He sighed. And groaned.
[Keir]
Keir had been awake for some time, the bitter dracontium doing its charm before he spat it out. He had pretended to be out while they tied him, peeking whenever the opportunity presented itself, and had not liked anything he'd seen or heard since regaining consciousness. He had been able to tense his muscles so the ropes now had some slack but it was not nearly enough for him to wiggle free.
[Grumhog]
When at last one of the captives raised their groggy heads, Grumhog spoke, his voice rough and guttural, his body still throwing off the remnants of the Voel's magic.
"In the name of the great lord Thorgovash, I declare your souls forfeit."
He grinned, the light of the bonfire providing a manic glint to his eyes. His voice was clearer when he spoke again.
"Tonight, we and the Voel shall be feasting on your blood."
[Daron]
-Feast on my blood"? Faith above, there's not much left!-
[Laurelyn]
There were times when Laurelyn truly wished that she had studied as a clan bard - with the skill to lay effective curse. And now was one of those times.
She was also regretting being fully awake - for though the gas was gone, the stench was not; it clung to her unbound hair and clothes. But since she was awake she decided she wasn't going to just lay there and not give vent to her anger. For a clan anger - a nearly berserker rage - did burn through her veins.
Anger - not only at the damned bandits, but at a universe that let her survive the knife's edge in Montfort - only to let her end up tussed up and blood-smeared. Laurelyn thrashed her way to her knees and said in raw fury, "And by the Gods of Sea and Stone let our souls slash your thrice-damned Thorgovash's throat to ribbons. And may your own guts rot - raw in the burning sun!!"
Laurelyn knew that her curse might lack a clan bard's power, but it gave her satisfaction to hear that her voice was resonant and strong. And though she knew she'd probably pay for her outburst she was beyond caring - she hoped that her gods at least would give a clan daughter justice and honor her curse.
[Daron]
Daron stared in shock at Laurelyn, unprepared for the normally gentle woman's outburst. She agreed with the storyteller's attitude, however. The artist wished she could get her hands on even _one_ of her throwing daggers...but the thugs had bound her too well, curse their mangy hides!
"_COWARDS_!" she cried out, struggling to her knees. "_MANGY COWARDS_!
You can't even _FIGHT_ honorably! You have to get your _HIDEOUS MOTHER_ to help you out by having her belch on us! _COWARDS_!"
Daron's throat felt raw from shouting and dry heaving. She fully expected the mangy thugs to take their revenge for her curses out on her. Pain from her wounds plus lightheadedness from dry heaves pushed the artist past the point of caring.
[Jacques]
What was with all this shouting, Jacques wondered as he winced with an almighty headache. Even a night of Thunderspirits hadn't felt this bad.
Jacques spat again, and managed to lever his aching body into a sitting position, his head spinning like a hummingbird in a tornado.
Then again, maybe Thunderspirits _had_ felt this bad.
"Your lord Hogwash is a little late, boy," he grunted. It was a strain using his stage voice, but at least it carried across the entire clearing without him having to shout his lungs out. "My soul's been forfeit to someone else for more years'n you've been the runt pup of this litter of carrion eating whelps."
He laughed dryly.
"Fact, old Torpidmash'll just have to wait in line. Can't be more'n twenty in front of 'im."
[Rudolpho]
Rudolpho awoke to find himself in strange surroundings. The last thing he remembered was smelling something so terribly awful that he passed out. Upon further inspection he found that he was in a stable. In the stall next to him was another horse. From outside the stall he could hear shouting and cursing. It was a bit muffled at first, until he heard the strong rich tones of Jacques' voice. -At least he and Laurelyn are alive.- He noticed that he and the other horse were being watched.
He wondered if it was Beast in the stall next to his. "Beast is that you" he neighed to the other horse. While he waited for a response he kicked experimentally at the back wall of the stall.
[Keir]
What fear Keir had felt from being helpless in the face of Grumhog's threats and random kicks was slowly but surely replaced by anger. His shame at being captured so easily and the mistreatment of his friends combined to raise his hackles. His desparate mental calls to his insect allies were disappointing, most of the night flying insects in the area were innocuous though enough mosquitoes responded to at least annoy their captors. The one small success he had was with the earwigs and hundreds of them were now taking bites out of the hemp that bound him. Their progress was slow but as fiber after fiber gave way he felt them loosen.
[Grumhog]
Grumhog seemed oblivious to the taunts being thrown at him. rather, his head was angled slightly to his left, and the look on his face made him seem like he was listening to something that was carried with the wind. Except there was no wind, and there was no sound but that of buzzing insects.
When he looked down, his face seemed sedate and peaceful. His whole air had changed, and as the sun completed its slow decline beyond the horizon, there was more than a hint of pity in his eyes.
He turned slowly and strode from the circle of stones, moving silently and solemnly. His men gathered around as he walked past, and followed him into the darkness of the woods, leaving the prisoners all alone.
The two bonfires crackled loudly, casting long shadows across the clearing.
[Laurelyn]
Laurelyn watched in quiet rage as a far too calm Grumhog left them. She tried to struggle to her feet - to do something with the unreleased energy, but the damp grass was slick beneath her feet, and the bounds around her upper body awkward - and she fell flat on her back. There she lay cursing - using many of the colorful phrases she learned from her smuggler kin. >This isn't getting anyone anywhere<, she reminded herself as she lay on the grass, breathing hard from her exertions.
She rolled over on her side and looked at her equally trussed compatriots, and asked, "Is everyone reasonably alright...and does anyone have a boot knife?"
[Keir]
The earwigs finally chewed through enough of the cord for Keir to get his hands free. He quickly checked for his surgical knife but it was gone. Dragging his bound legs behind him he crawled over to Jacques, as he was nearest, and began untying the jester's hands. "If anyone has a knife _anywhere_ this will go a lot faster."
[Jacques]
"I may have a couple left," replied Jacques as he felt Keir working on his ropes.
He was feeling miserable. Not only had he been captured, not only had there been that incredibly _awful_ smell, not only was there something decidedly strange going on, but worst of all, his audience hadn't been paying attention.
The ropes finally came free, and Jacques flexed his hands to restore the blood flow. Then he slipped a hand into one of the pockets in his uniform and pulled out a long green-handled knife. This he passed to Keir. From another pocket, he pulled a long yellow-handled knife, sheared away the rest of his bindings and shuffled over to Laurelyn.
"Anyone seen my hat?" he asked nobody in particular. He patted his pockets, and remembered that his silver bottle was now empty. "Or some booze," he sighed.
Laurelyn's ropes parted as the blade worked its way through. He turned to see how Keir was managing with Daron.
[Laurelyn]
"Thanks," Laurelyn said as she struggled to her feet.
Since others were having luck finding their knifes she bent to check her own boot dagger, and truly regreted the move. A sharp catch in her side reminded her of her battered ribs, which caused a flash of memory of Javier and his abused ribs. She was just glad she had had her arm healed up before leaving Montfort, since she didn't need to be dealing with a cracked rib and a sliced sword arm.
She waited for the dizziness to pass and pulled out the stiletto from her boot, and after slowly straightening put the blade in her belt.
"Unfortunately, Jacques," she added, "My vision hasn't cleared enough to see your hat." She gave him a grim smile to let him know that she wasn't taking her aggravation out on him.
[Daron]
Daron looked over at Jacques and Laurelyn as Keir cut her free of her bonds. She tried to answer each person in turn.
"Reasonably well, thank you, Mistress Laurelyn." Scratching the back of her neck, she found her throwing dagger was still sheathed there. Out of habit, Daron checked for the other four. They, too, were still in their sheaths. "I still have my daggers; the mangy cowards didn't seem to see the need to search us all that thoroughly." She shrugged off the ropes and smiled at Keir. "Thank you, Master Keir. Sorry, no; I haven't seen your hat, Master Jacques. But, if they haven't raided my saddlebags, I do have a bit of lager...for 'medicinal purposes', of course," she grinned sheepishly. "And you may have some if you want; got it in Helgastop before we left. Well, feet, don't fail me now," she muttered, a grim smile now adorning her lips, and shakily rose to her feet. "Okay. Let's get going..." She walked to the edge of the stone ring and started to step over one of the stones.
A sudden weariness enveloped Daron like a heavy cloak. She slowly sank to her knees.
"I think I'll rest for a while, first, though..."
she murmured sleepily. "G'night..." The artist laid down on
the hard ground and closed her eyes.
[Jacques]
Watching Daron, the jester nodded to himself - and considered the motion - oddly silent.
"Sounds like a good plan to me." He retrieved
a trio of brightly coloured balls from somewhere in the endless depths
of his pockets, and began juggling.
[Rudolpho]
Not receiving an answer from the adjoining stable, Rudolpho figured it was not Beast next door. -The problem is how do I get out.-
He began to watch for patterns and for his opportunity. When the chance presented itself, Rudolpho changed back to his human form and moved quietly to the next stable. Keeping the horse hair ready for a quick change back, he opened the door to the other horse's stall. He entered the stall and got behind the beast. Imitating a low growl of a panther, he smacked the horse's rear, keeping well out of the way of a stray kick. The animal spooked and bolted out of the stall. Muttering the words to the spell, Rudolpho changed back to horse form and ran out after him, neighing in mock terror. -The panther growl is something they will recognize from before and think it followed them. Maybe to hunt or something.- Once out of the stall, Rudolpho wasted no time running in an opposite direction to the other horse. -I hope he gets away too.-
[narration]
The stablehand was the first to respond, shouting for the guards to quit their game of cards and catch the horses. But by then it was too late, one darting away into the darkness while the other wheeled around madly, whinnying in fright. It saw them running for it and bolted - then it, too, was lost in the night.
They let it go, knowing they would not be able to catch it until morning.
[Pierre]
Pierre swallowed several times. His entire mouth tasted foul, and he suspected it was due to the "fog" that had covered him some time ago.
"I am quite all right," he said. "At least," he amended, "As right as can be expected." He attempted a weak smile.
"Is she all right?" he queried, looking over at Daron. It had been somewhat unusual for Daron--for anybody--to suddenly fall asleep like that for no reason whatsoever. Concerned...Daron had been kind to him...he walked over to her.
"Daron?" he whispered. "Are you all right?" His hand passed through the stone circle.
He couldn't go out there. Pierre couln't explain why, but he *knew*, without a doubt, that something terrible would happen if he dared to leave the circle. He was petrified, too much so to move.
[Laurelyn]
"Pierre?" Laurelyn said, coming up behind the boy, "What''s the matter?" She was careful not to get near the stones - they had a loathsome sense to them, and she was hesitant to touch the musician - in case some new danger had presented itself. She did note that both Daron and Pierre had begun to act oddly when they neared the stones. The circle of stones seemed to be a pointless corral for the prisoners, but the storyteller had the deep feeling that some dire danger lay beyond that barrier; one she did not want to confront.
She said, "Master Keir, perhaps you should check Daron - she could be suffering blood loss."
[narration]
Out of the night, a black horse came charging, snorting and whinnying. The harsh light from the bonfires blazed in its eyes and shone on the white mark on its forehead.
It wheeled and kicked at the air as it reached the edge of the stone circle, it's eyes wide.
A cold wind blew past, carrying with it the sound of whispering. The voices were hushed and undefined, yet they seemed unnaturally rhythmic.
The horse snorted at the sound and bolted to one side in a mad panic, slamming into one of the bonfires. It ran into the night, it's mane slightly aflame.
The whispers died down into nothingness, and the chill left the air.
[Keir]
Keir started out to check on Daron but froze momentarily as the horse made it's odd charge. He'd been around enough mages on Loria to recognize the circle for what it was and forced himself to step beyond it to Daron's side. Nausea and dizziness sweep over him instantly as he grabbed her under her arms and drug her back into the circle. As soon as she was in he rolled to his side and began retching.
[Pierre]
Pierre faintly heard Laurelyn speaking to him, but he couldn't quite understand her words. He detested this; this intense fear. All he could do was know that something terrible would happen if he left the circle.
It wasn't easy, but he somehow managed to force himself to move; to force himself back inside the safety of the stone circle. Once there, he pulled his body into a fetal position, breathing rapidly, eyes still wide in the fear that had consumed him but a few seconds ago.
[Keir]
Keir started out to check on Daron but
froze momentarily as the horse made it's odd charge. He'd been around enough
mages on Loria to recognize the circle for what it was and forced himself
to step beyond it to Daron's side. Nausea and dizziness sweep over him
instantly as he grabbed her under her arms and dragged her back into the
circle. As soon as she was in she rolled to his side and began retching.
[Pierre]
Pierre faintly heard Laurelyn speaking
to him, but he couldn't quite understand her words. He detested this; this
intense fear. All he could do was know that something terrible would happen
if he left the circle.
It wasn't easy, but he somehow managed to
force himself to move; to force himself back inside the safety of the stone
circle. Once there, he pulled his body into a fetal position, breathing
rapidly, eyes still wide in the fear that had consumed him but a few seconds
ago.
[Laurelyn]
Laurelyn knelt by Pierre and lightly touched
his shoulder, saying, "Pierre?"
She, however, realized that kneeling had
been a mistake - exhaustion and strain was making her shiver, and she realized
that she was going to have to rest. With great caution she eased herself
into a sitting position - promising herself she would only rest a moment.
[Pierre]
Pierre looked up. "I--I am fine," he managed.
While he wasn't *perfectly* fine, he was certainly doing better than he
had before. He pulled himself into a sitting position. "Thank you, Mademoiselle
Laurelyn. Are you all right?" he asked, concerned. "Are they all right?"
He spoke half to himself, half to anybody who could hear him, as he looked
at Daron and Keir.
[Laurelyn]
"Better then we could honestly hope for,"
Laurelyn said gently, keeping the bitterness from her voice.
[Daron]
Daron's eyes opened. The last clear
memory she had was stepping over one of the stones. She looked over
towards Pierre, Laurelyn and Keir.
"What happened?" she asked, puzzled.
"Is Master Keir all right?"
[Pierre]
"I do not know," he whispered. "I hope that Keir is all right." Pierre realized that such an reply was not a full answer to Daron's query, but it was all he could do.
[Daron]
Her arm and leg ached terribly. She
actually cherished the pain. It proved she was _alive_.
Though, considering Grumhog's proclamation,
Daron could not begin to guess for how much longer...for _any_ of them...
[Jacques]
"Why's everybody acting strange all of
a sudden?" Jacques muttered to nobody in particular. There were now six
coloured balls spinning in a circle as he juggled to relax. After all,
there wasn't any point in going anywhere. It was perfectly safe and comfortable
in the middle of the circle here.
He flipped the balls into an end flourish,
fishing balls out of the air in pairs, and placing them on the ground.
"Anyone got any food?"
[Pierre]
Pierre shook his head regretfully. "Sadly, not with me. I am sorry." He glanced at the jester, and wished he could at least put up some front of confidence.
[Keir]
"Please don't mention food." Keir pleaded as he staggered to his feet, carefully avoiding the small pool of partially digested mushrooms. "I think we've got bigger problems here." He frowned at Jacques as he went over to check on Daron, hardly believing the jester's choice of activities.
As he had expected, the artist's wounds
had reopened and her shoulder in particular was bleeding profusely. The
blood on her neck caught his attention and a quick sniff told him it was
not hers. Keir looked into Daron's green eyes and noted the dullness that
had replaced their former luster and shook his head, she could ill afford
to lose more blood. "I'll be back in a moment." he asured her, patting
her hand gently as he rose and went to Laurelyn.
As he walked he checked his own neck and
was disturbed to find the same queer smelling blood smeared into his hair.
"Mistress, we've put this off longer than
we should have, are you ready to tell me of your injuries?" Keir already
had his suspicions from watching how she moved and intended to examine
her whether she protested or not.
[Laurelyn]
Laurelyn was deeply glad to see Master
Keir seemed reasonably functional. She gave him a tired smile, and said,
"Just one ache. And I don't have many doubts that its a cracked rib." She
chuckled - a harsh, bitter sound, and added, "Heard the prognosis on a
friend of mine - though he was lucky enough to have a bruised rib or two."
[Pierre]
The back of his neck itched slightly, and so he reached up a hand to scratch it. When he removed it, he was slightly disturbed to find some blood on his nails. Strange...had he been injured and did not know it? Perhaps when he had been knocked out, he had cut himself. The blood didn't seem terribly fresh, though Pierre could hardly be considered an expert on such things.
[Keir]
He started by checking Laurelyn's neck, finding the same smear of dried blood as on himself and Daron. He was glad he'd still been unconscious when it was applied and shook his head at the odd ways of Big Folk. Getting her to lie back Keir placed an ear on her abdomen while his hands gently explored her tender ribs. Her sudden winces told him where the damaged ones were, though whether they were cracked or just bruised he couldn't tell. At least they weren't broken and he heard no sound of hemorrhage or lung puncture. He sat back on his heels with his hands on his knees. "You'd be alright if you could just lie still for a few days." He didn't need to see her quizical look to know how absurd that was under the circumstances. "I have an idea for something that could heal you faster but I fear there's no time for that either." {and we'd need Rudolpho's help.} he thought, suddenly realizing the thief was missing and hoping that, as a horse, he'd managed to escape capture.
Keir helped Laurelyn sit up. "I can wrap it so it won't hurt as bad but you're going to have to move as carefully as possible." he instructed as he began winding the ropes that had bound them snuggly around her stomach and chest. "I don't think we're going anywhere fast anyway, " he whispered, "this circle is some sort of spell."
[Laurelyn]
The storyteller nodded and whispered back, "Do you think it has something to do with that blood you found?" The few minutes of laying still had been enough of a respite for her to begin thinking again. She hated just sitting helpless and looked around at the ominous stones.
As Master Keir finished tying off the ropes Laurelyn had the passing thought that the bindings might act as a makeshift armour. She smiled her gratitude to Keir and said, "Thank you for your aid."
Laurelyn gingerly rose to her feet, though
her expression was faraway and thoughtful. She pulled a handkerchief from
a pocket, spit on it, and began rubbing the moistened cloth across the
back of her neck and into her hair.