Café de Nuit

UNDERNEATH THE CATHEDRAL OF HAELYN, CITY OF HAES


The old man sits at the head of a short table in a small, stone-walled chamber. A single candle on the tabletop casts the only light. The man stands up, paces around the table, and rests his hands on the back arch of one of the empty chairs arranged around the table and pushed in close. He lowers his head and mumbles a prayer.

A knock rattles against the far side of the room’s single door, a heavy slab of hardwood plated with lead sheets.
“Your Holiness, they’ve begun to arrive.”

TEMERLAN, THE RIVERSIDE DISTRICT, HAES-OUTSIDE-THE-WALLS


The foreigner walks down the muddy lane that runs between a burned out warehouse on the right and a half-built saloon on the left.
Cold raindrops fall on him, hard and fast. The mud bubbles and pops under the downpour.
Here in the Riverside slums outside the wall, the dregs of the short but terrible war that hit these lands before he arrived can be seen all around; burned buildings, scarred men, homeless women and hungry orphans.
A woman beckons the foreigner from the mouth of a narrow alley beside the charred wreck of the storehouse, as he passes by.
Smudges of soot serve as a bad substitute for kohl under the thin woman’s bloodshot eyes. She might be thirteen going on thirty-five; young slim body, old eyes, girlish good looks fading rapidly.
“Fancy a shag, master?”
She lifts her thin skirt and displays a skinny white leg with rags wrapped round her ankle and foot.
“Two coppers’ll get you warm for a little while.”

BACKCOUNTRY OF ELEVESNEMIERE, THE SEACHERS

Dierde lies flat on her belly on the east-facing slope of the low ridge, screened by frost-killed ferns, and points down into the little wooded vale below.

Cormac and the others lying near her, also hidden from any watchers in the low space on the far side of the rise by brush, rocks, and some clumps of snow. Even now, near midday, mist hangs about the roots and lower trunks of the mixed broadleaves--now all leafless--and scraggly pines.
At first, none of the searchers see anything unusual, but then a tall, gray-cloaked form appears among the trees, drifting over the earth like a footless ghost rising from the ground fog.
No sooner than they spot it, Cormac and his friend lose sight of the figure in the woods.


Dierde slides a couple of feet down the eastern side, towards the place where the squires and minions hold the party's horses and away from the woods and the cloaked thing in them.

She whispers to the men with her,

''I will go in and distract them. I'll tell them I was captured and escaped, and that you are even now torturing the elves you captured. That should get their passions roused and so keep them from thinking their next step through. And I'll give them directions that will lead them straight into your ambush, at that spot you pointed out to me. Then, I'll transform and follow behind them, so I can hide if there's a big fight. Afterward, we can find and divide the stones. We should hurry. They might send out a scout. Elves are patient because they can live nearly forever--unless something kills them-- but they won't likely wait more than another day for a report."

SEARCHERS

Roald grins at Dierde, the sight of her inspiring lust and avarice in equal measure.

"Long lives mean long memories and deep grudges. Tell them that the Elf Killer is adding the ears of their comrades to his collection." He scratches at his neck, where a necklace of pointed ears hung years ago. "That should get them angry enough to move right through the clearing where Sir Boarholt and I can ride them down. If things go as planned, the fight will be over before any Sidhelien has a chance to nock an arrow. That way you won't have to hide your lovely self, which would be a minor tragedy if it becomes necessary. Beauty such as yours should never be hidden out of sight."

ewancummins wrote:TEMERLAN, THE RIVERSIDE DISTRICT, HAES-OUTSIDE-THE-WALLS

The handsome bard passes a hand through his wet, brown-blond locks of hair and smiles warmly to the woman. He fishes out 2 coppers and hands them to her "I am warm enough, thank you. How about instead of keeping me warm, you get under a roof yourself so you don't catch a cold? I may pass by here again and I like to share a little silver in order to listen to some interesting gossip or stories about this place. It would be a shame if you had caught a cold and I wouldn't be able to find you.
Keep these copper, tell me your name and keep your ears open sweet lady."

Temerlan didn't really think he would need to draw information from this woman, but giving her a little hope along with a little copper, disguised as a bribe instead of charity seemed the right thing to do.

Cormac's eyes narrow at Roald's obvious infatuation. He nods as the plan is explained, adding his two cents "An' while ye're makin' yer big charge, me an' my lads'll pepper 'em with arrows. Should be a neat job."

He waits until the Fox woman leaves and leans over to Ned. "Follow her," he whispers. "If she ain't on the up an' up, warn us before we get jumped."

ewancummins wrote: UNDERNEATH THE CATHEDRAL OF HAELYN, CITY OF HAES


The old man sits at the head of a short table in a small, stone-walled chamber. A single candle on the tabletop casts the only light. The man stands up, paces around the table, and rests his hands on the back arch of one of the empty chairs arranged around the table and pushed in close. He lowers his head and mumbles a prayer.

A knock rattles against the far side of the room’s single door, a heavy slab of hardwood plated with lead sheets.
“Your Holiness, they’ve begun to arrive.”

LADY DOMENICA'S RESIDENCE

The young man admires the reflection he sees in the mirror. He looks very different. And his mistress looks even better. She has spared no expense for him to look the part of a valet/attendent.

She, as well, is attired appropriately for the meeting. Beautiful lavender silk dress. A fantastic necklace and earrings accompany the dress. They had spent the better part of yesterday and today purchasing these items and her teaching him the proper etiquette for the meeting.

"See how different you look, Gimp? Nothing as dark as you usually do. Now remember everything I told you. Open doors for me, pull chairs back for me, anything a noble woman would expect from her valet/attendent. Make sure you behave this evening. We are meeting the Arch Prelate after all. A very important man in the Church heirarchy of whore fuckers. You will see a different side of your mistress this evening"

She looks hard as nails at him. "But fear not, I am still the same person Gimp." She pats the whip attached to the belt at her hip with a cruel smile. "Shall we ? I don't want to keep the carriage waiting."

She nods. Opening the door to the abode, he follows her out, then locks the house before walking past her and opening the gate for her. She passes even as he passes behind her. She waits at the
just arrived carriage and he passes her, opening it for her, helping her in. Once she is settled in, he enters and sits next to her.


They arrive at the Cathedral soon enough and he exits, holding the door for her. They head into the Cathedral and soon, there they are at the meeting. Domeninca enters, followed by Gimp.

THE SEARCHERS

Deirdre creeps behind a boulder. A soft moan, a noise like green sticks breaking, and then a silver- furred fox darts out from behind the Rock and goes up and over the ridge.

Ned slips away on the errand for Cormac.


Road and Sir Boarholt fall back to where the horses are being held.

A crow calls out overhead, taking flight from a twisted pine atop the ridge.

Cormac looks up at the crow, trying to intuit what made it cry, and motions for he and Hob to take up their sniper positions.

UNDERNEATH THE CATHEDRAL OF HAELYN, CITY OF HAES

Filbert cannot hide his frustration. He has changed outfit a few times already and still he isn't satisfied. Everytime he has a meeting with the Archprelate he doesn't know how to get dressed. His Holiness isn't a Duke or a prince but still a person that needs to be respected. Filbert checks his last outfit one last time at the mirror, his mind gets back at his adventuring days. At least there he wears rather baggy clothes so he can hide his light armor and a cloak and was ready to go! Sighing one last time he exits the room.

The halfling arrives punctual at the Cathedral and heads at the meeting room.

"It has plenty of opportunities to impose your personality!"

"Its a wreck."

"It.. requires repair."

"It requires knocking down and starting again from scratch."

"We could arrange..."

"No."

-------------
"It is superbly furnished!"

"It looks like a brothel."

"Velvet is very much a la mode..."

"Its a brothel isn't it?"

"Well not any more..."

"No."

-----------
"A fine view of the river!"

"Down through the floorboards."

"Its wonderfully cool in the summer heat..."

"Your summer heat is my winter frost. And what about the spring floods?"

"Excellent access to fishing..."

"No."

--------------
"A fine tower, suitable for a magician!"

"Having only one room on each floor does not make it a tower."

"Commanding the surrounding buildings..."

"By about five feet..."

"The thick door and narrow windows provide security"

"Interesting that someone thought they needed it. Who lives around here?"

"Its been seized for debt, and is going for half market price."

"Sold!"

Safana spends some time settling into her new abode, arranging her limited furnishings, and laying out the essentials of her trade. Humming a merry tune she stocks her bookshelf and lays out her bed on the topmost floor. The scent of baking wafting from the shop next door suggests she has picked a good site. The raucous singing and sounds of brawling from the tavern on the other side perhaps less so. Once finsihed she stands in her new doorway and examines the area in which she now lives, taking deep breaths of the coll outside air!

SEARCHERS

Renn and his men lie in cover along with Roald, Cormac and the others. When Cormac suggests that Deirdre might not be on the "up and up," the normally cold captain looks as if he's been personally insulted.

"Why would you say that about her, Cormac? What's -not- to trust?"

The Rjurik looks out the side of his eyes at Renn. "She's been sidlin' up to ye an' Roald since we captured her. Let's not forget she's part of why we're in this mess in the first place." He shakes his head. "Anyone tryin' that hard to get on yer side ain't really a friend, in my experience. She's just tryin' ta sell ya somethin'."

He shrugs. "But if she's on the up an' up, than I'm just being paranoid an' no harm, no foul."

SEARCHERS

A tense few minutes pass for the ambushers.

Cormac , Renn, and Hob lie in wait along the ridgeline (the two riders wait a little distance west and further downslope, hidden by trees).

They hear shrill screams from the tree line, elfish voices lifted in rage or sorrow.
And then they spot the elves emerging; six, seven, more...

Before the enemy have fully emerged from cover, Roald suddenly spurs his horse , trotting down into the low grassy vale and heading straight for the elves!
Sir Boarholt laughs, cocks his hammer over his shoulder, and follows the other rider's lead.

The sudden charge throws the elves into confusion, They race up the slope that descends from the ridgeline, quick as rabbits fleeing hounds. From the higher ground, the elves rain arrows down on the charging riders and the horses. Roald's horse screams, but both armored riders pass through the storm without falling from their saddles.

As the riders wheel and come up the slope from the far end, Renn and his fellows fall upon the elves from the rear. Renn stabs one in the neck.
Cormac sends another toppling from the ridge with a shattered jaw , courtesy of the druid's axe.

Then Sir Boarholt, moving his huge warhorse with expert skill, makes a daring ride up the steep slope and rides along the elf skirmish line, battering the foe with hammer and horse hooves.

The elves turn and flee for the safety of the trees.
But arrows fly out at them from the direction of their erstwhile hiding place, and Roald rides around to cut off that route of escape.

The Manslayer's minions retreat into a den of rocks and thorn bushes down the ridge to the east,.

The ambushers surround the thicket...



UNDER THE CATHEDRAL

An acolyte escorts Lady Domenica and Lord Filbert into the small, candle-lit meeting room where the Arch-prelate sits waiting.

The old high priest rises and motions for his guests to sit at the table.
''Forgive me for not receiving you both in better style."

The acolyte steps in and closes the doors. Both guests His Holiness says, ''This occasion calls for a certain amount of caution. Thus, the chamber. "
He waves a hand towards the lead panels on the door.
"Forgive the delay, but I must perform a brief rite before we can continue.''
He begins a chant in an archaic dialect
RIVERSIDE, HAES-BEYOND-THE-WALLS
TEMERLAN


After handing some coins to the grateful young prostitute, Temerlan seeks out a public house where he can catch up on local gossip and try out his latest compositions for a free audience.

He finds a pub that suits his purposes and his budget.
Most of the people eating and drinking here look like poor laborers and craftsmen of small means.
But spirits seem high despite the squalor of the place. An old codger wheezes out creaky tunes on a set of sheep-gut bagpipes. A drunken bravo reels about the floor with his sheathed rapier serving as his dance partner,
A fat man in a tattered fur coat slaps coins on the rickety bar and announces that he's buying a pitcher and a hot supper for the man who can , on the spot, compose the best toast in honor of the Duke's betrothal.

SAFANA

kintire wrote: Safana spends some time settling into her new abode, arranging her limited furnishings, and laying out the essentials of her trade. Humming a merry tune she stocks her bookshelf and lays out her bed on the topmost floor. The scent of baking wafting from the shop next door suggests she has picked a good site. The raucous singing and sounds of brawling from the tavern on the other side perhaps less so. Once finished she stands in her new doorway and examines the area in which she now lives, taking deep breaths of the cool outside air!

Safana sees a man staggering out of an alley behind the tavern.

He falters in his step, casting about as if drunk or confused.
And then he pitches face down.
Two men with hoods concealing their features dart out of the alley mouth. One strikes the fallen man in the head with something small and dark in his right fist. The other grabs the man by his heels and hauls him back towards the alley...