Posts : 59
Join date : 2010-03-22
Age : 32
Location : San Antonio Tx
HFS Name: Shaheena
Class: Assassin, Bard, Warrior, Druid, NonFighter
|Subject: The Warning Mon May 10, 2010 10:59 pm|| |
“The Abbey!” the messenger cried out. While not a member of the local order dedicated to St. Michael, Marcus was friend to no few of it's members. They held a code of honor that while he did not completely agree with, had come to appreciate and respect over the years he had made ShadowMist his home. Any dire news regarding the abbey would more than likely be bad news. “The Abbey is...is...” the boy stammered as his eyes darted back and forth in his skull searching for words that were likely beyond his knowledge. Likely Marcus' as well.
At about that time, Captain, no, now Commodore, Fiona turned the corner to the common hall. The black look she shot at the poor boy had in Marcus' experience turned sea-hardened sailors to blubbering babes in a matter of moments, but the messenger boy was so lost in his own thoughts that any power her glare would have had over her before merely bounced off of lad's shock.
“Is what, boy? Spit it out already!” Her barked command seemed to have a greater effect of pulling the youngling out of his stupor as he shook his dusty brown mop from his face and turned to her directly.
“S'got some kind'o wall 'round it. Won't let no one through. You walk into it and find yerself walkin' back in yer own bootprint!” The boy was beginning to reach a hysterical point when Marcus decided to join the conversation.
“Speak plainly now and tell us what has happened.”
After several minutes of having picked the poor boy's head clean of information, they were able to piece together that the grounds surrounding the Abbey and a few furlongs beyond had been encased in a bubble of shimmering light that made everything beyond blurry to the point of being painful to look at. Anyone who had tried to traverse the threshold had instantly walked right back out. The only person who had entered and did not come back out was Brother Marlo, a monk of the abbey who served the local village. He had been sent for as soon as the wall appeared, and departed for the abbey immediately. The villagers had watched as Marlo walked through the wall of light, and continued to watch his blur until they could no longer make him out. Several other villagers summarily tried to follow, but found themselves retracing their steps. After nearly a mark and Marlo had not returned, the village mayor had sent this messenger to ShadowMist Keep to relay the information.
The boy looked bedraggled. The Abbey was a half day's ride from ShadowMist proper, but the boy had managed to get here in just a few marks. The rush of his duty was beginning to wear off, and as he fought to keep consciousness, Marcus called for one of the Keep pages. As the page snapped to his approximation of attention, Marcus couldn't help but smile.
“See that this messenger boy has a good meal with the lot of you, and a place to nod off for a few, will you?” The page nodded, and began to escort the lad away when Marcus stopped them. “Here,” he said, as he passed a small token bearing his own device on it. “Give this to your mayor when you return, so that he may know who you spoke with, and that you have done your task.” With a tilt of his head, he watched the page escort the boy away to the servant's wing to be fed and bed before making his return trip. The lad had earned at least that much.
Fiona raised an eyebrow as he turned back to face her. “You think that boy has any clue what you just gave him?” The twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her attempt at being stern. Regardless of what she was trying to say, she tacitly approved of the wage token he had handed the boy.
“No, but his mayor and the local guard will, and that's who is important.” The wage token he had handed the boy would ensure that when he returned, he would receive a weeks worth of wages that any personal servant of a noble house would receive. Likely enough to keep his family fed for a month alone.
“Don't you think that's a little excessive just for running a message?” She retorted.
“Normally, yes. But my reasons are twofold. First, I have too damn many of these things that don't get used by any of my personal servants. When I try to give them out, they just tell me they are happy to have a safe place to sleep and good food to eat. The people who live near Wolfsden are very simple folk. They don't take any more then they need to be comfortable, so I have an excess of tokens laying about. And secondly, unless I've missed my guess, this is going to end up being a much bigger issue before all the cards are counted.” Marcus reached back into the door of his office and pulled on his traveling cloak.
“Where are you headed to?” The Commodore asked with a tilt of her head.
“The abbey, to go get more information as to what exactly is going on. The Queen is going to need to know everything she can if she has to deal with this.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, so you're going to leave me to break the news to the Queen and send the place into an uproar, how gracious of you,” she said with a mock bow.
“I was already geared up to make my return trip north, but it looks to be now that my trip home is going to be delayed. It makes more sense seeing as how I'm ready to ride now.”
“Fine. Lay me out like a lamb. I'm gonna remember this next time it's your arse in the kettle!” She hollered as he made his way to the stables.
Marcus' face sobered as he turned back to face the sailor one final time. “I'm counting on it.”