Well not all mixed commands go smoothly and neither did this one.
Harold is doing something official looking.
Izett has started to come around during the journey back. Her gaze somewhat empty having a shell shocked look about her in the journey, not talking nor has her color returned to her visage..well save for the huge bruise along her jaw and being covered in dirt, and leaves and twigs in her hair.
Quina has arrived.
Izett has started to come around during the journey back. Her gaze somewhat empty having a shell shocked look about her in the journey, not talking nor has her color returned to her visage..well save for the huge bruise along her jaw and being covered in dirt, and leaves and twigs in her hair.(repose)
Liam is riding in the back of those returning on a light brown colored mare. He looks pretty hale and hearty and not bruised any more than normal.
Celeste has arrived.
Emma is atop her chestnut gelding, riding along with the group. Her expression is grim and her features exceptionally pale, though that is not such a strange thing lately.
Winter is nursing several bites and lots of scratches, her clothing is pretty tore up.
Harold looks at the medic tending Winter "What was that about Armor?" he asks her.
Quina is dressed far less formally than usual, and she's stowing various samples in pouches as they return.
Celeste pages: OK. I'm torn. I want scenes with both, LOL. A back scene how far back? before he went?
Winter looks at Harold and smirks, "Okay... I concede to your point." She winces and hisses as one of the medics dumps antiseptic into a bite. "I should look into getting some armor of some sort."
Liam slips out of his saddle and hands his horse Rutabaga off to a groom. But before a groom can take his horse away, Liam mysteriously produces a red apple. He stands there getting slobbered up as he feeds the promised apple to his horse and scratches her nose.
Harold raps his steel breastplate it rings musically (nice tone) "Yep a good suit of armor would serve you well."
Celeste arrives and looks as if the day might finally be getting to her-or maybe just her injuries. One arm is slung, and there's the bulk of hastily applied bandages to her torso and belly. She spies the medic tending Winder and then looks to Harold and exhales in relief before she can stop herself.
Harold looks to Izett and frowns deeply "What happened?"
Izett is actually tied to her horse. Her horse seeming to fairly much know the way back to the village though Taran is leading her horse rather than her riding normally. She doesn't seem to really register the concept of back, or that Harold is safe. Nor does she make any moves as yet staring off to undo the tyeing.
Emma draws her horse to a halt, and sits in the saddle for a moment, before she slings a leg over and slides to the ground. She replies to Harold, "Touched a root. Didn't go so well for her. She'll be fine,
Celeste says." She looks around for a groom, and not spying one immediately, begins to lead her horse off.
Several Grooms hurry from the stable to collect the horses. Harold's brow raises "A root did that?" he asks Emma, "Well why would .." he looks to Celeste "Will someone tell me what's going on?" he holds up his hand "And for fun let's pretend I know little of magic and necromancy."
Winter sits up straighter in her seat, though it could just be another reaction to the antiseptic being dumped on her. "What happened?" She's as curious as Harold. After a little bit, she's had enough of the medic's attentions and waves him off so she can rise to her feet and allow others to take her place if need be.
Celeste looks wry, "Why's everyone always asks me. I do not understand it completely, essentially there is a root which interconnects the zombies-this root mimics or uses life energies of some nature and covers the entire region. It seems to be quasi sentient and we've acquired a name though I myself do not understand it. Lady Izett was the first to attempt to..ah..interact with the energies to glean answers-and seems to be suffering post traumatic distress." she debriefs wearily.
Emma merely lifts a shoulder in a shrug at Harold, letting her horse be led off, surprise registering on her features at the groom's arrival. She moves to find herself someplace to sit.
Harold glares at Izett "We will speak of this later your Excellency." He sighs "Alright was any information gleaned?" he looks around hoping someone can clue him in."
Celeste murmurs, "Yes, I included it in your debriefing, Grand master. Additionally, I believe we need to discuss my bringing troops to stage to support your own."
Quina is quiet, carefully packing away this and that, though leaving some pieces out to start doing some careful study. Included is a piece of the root. She leaves the answering to others for now.
Emma might smirk a bit at Harold, sinking onto a comfortable-looking spot on the ground. "Of course information was gleaned," she says, dryly.
Harold looks to Emma "Really? What did we learn?" he paces a bit "How extensive are these roots?"
Winter moves out of the medics area and comes to stand beside Harold, listening with morbid curiosity. She leaves the questions to him however.
Izett peers at Harold, cuz currently his latest lecture obviously rates very far up on her worry list. Her current concern, she's still tied to her horse as she goes to move and finds that she is tied to the pummel of her horse..
Miranda emerges from one of the nearby camp buildings, looking, perhaps, somewhat weary. She's sans helm, for the moment, so at least the dangers of anyone mistaking her for a genuine Black Knight are limited. Upon hearing the drift of the conversation, she pauses to listen.
Emma lets her gaze skim sidelong to Celeste, before it returns to Harold. A hand lifts and she pinches at the bridge of her nose. "Do you really want to know?" she finally asks, after a long, long moment of silence.
Harold folds his arms across his chest "if it has a bearing on our situation yes. As some of you know Winter and I undertook a scouting mission earlier today. I am glad to report complete success, The woods are full of Zombies, they seem to be being controlled by...something..and it doesn't seem to be Ascolat."
Liam drifts over toward the group now that his horse is taken care of to shamelessly eavesdrop on... what he already knows, having been there.
Celeste is just returning with the rest of the party-plus others who went to investigate with Izett who now looks to be in a state of psychological shock and sports a heck of a bruise. She looks beside herself in relief to see Harold well but now-for the moment everyone's more or less tended to-exhaustion begins to set in and she sags to the ground beneath the shade of an elm, leaning against the trunk with a soft grunt.
Izett sits on the horse tugging on the ropes that Taran used to tie her to her horse. One of her men at arms coming over to help her get untied, and help her down off her horse. Softly she murmurs something to him causing him to send one of her other men into the tavern, only to return with a goblet and a bottle of scotch.
Emma looks up at Harold, her brows lifting. "Don't you fold your arms at me," she warns him, her alto low and irritable. "I put myself at significant risk for this information - as did my cousin and others." She flickers a glance to Izett, then returns her gaze to Harold. "The roots are doing the controlling, and they are woven throughout the entirety of the land of Albion."
Portia has arrived.
"I beg your pardon your Excellency, perhaps you would like me to stand at attention while..." Harold cants his head "through the ground?" he motions around "all over?" He considers "Can they be rooted up and destroyed?"
Celeste sighs, "Children!" she snaps, her voice carrying that annoying ability to clear distances clearly, "Sir Harold. I'd like a to hear about your scouting mission." she murmurs. She's under a tree in the shade, bandaged and looking like she's had a VERY Long day-but not nearly as long as either Emma who seems to be fatigued, Izett, who seems to be in a state of mental shock, or Winter who is currently being patched up, "But not this moment." She closes her eyes and then her lips purse and she sighs, "Sweetness? Liam?"
Emma looks, briefly, as if she's going to elaborate to Harold. When Celeste snaps, however, her features close in on themselves, and she rises to her feet. "Good night," she says, simply, turning on her heel and walking off.
Liam goes, "Mmmm? Celeste? Yes? What's up?"
Quina says towards Harold "I will do what I can to find some way to destroy the root without destroying everything else around it. And Liam, I would love to hear something soothing, if you would?"
Izett waits till a goblet of scotch is poured typically a wine drinker or a small glass of scotch she's gone for the goblet. Or her men have opted now is a good time for her hit the good stuff. Taking a long deep swallow of the scotch. She hasn't opted to chime in at the moment, she's opted for booze.
Portia saunters in, late to the party so to speak. She meanders her way toward Celeste, hands clasp behind her back.
Harold favors Celeste with a dark look, perhaps being referred to as a Child in front of his men, maybe the fact that bodies with notes to him fell from the sky today.
Liam nods and says to Quina, "Sure, Lady Quina." He has a guitar. He always has a guitar. He takes a moment checking its tuning and then starts to sing a nice, soothing ballad. His voice is like honey, smooth and sweet and endlessly soothing.
Miranda's expression flickers from its customary polite pleasantness for a moment. Irritation? Impatience? Annoyance? Something, at least, but she hastily banishes it again.
Celeste says, "Damnitall. Why..dammit." she runs a hand through her hair and exhales. Finally she surrenders, "Before I stitch my trap up for the evenin... she looks up at Portia, "Hello Portia." she summons the energy, "You know Quina of course. The lady stalking away because I butted in is the royal necromancer, Lady Emma. The man looking at me like he'd like to pull my lungs out of my asshole is Sir Harold Whitecliff, Grandmaster of the order of the Graal. The shell shocked lady is Baroness of Argent Meadows. The cute Chantris is Liam. That there's Viscountess Wildemere, Knight of his Majesty, and Winter who I don't recall the titles for, sadly. MArrow's off tending the wounded.""
Celeste does indicate each in turn with a gesture.
Harold turns to walk after Emma "Countessa? A moment please" As he is introduced he inclines his head "A pleasure, if you'll excuse me a moment?" he hurries to catch up with Emma.
Quina smiles some to Liam in thanks, then returns to her study.
Emma's steps don't falter, even as she's introduce in near-absentia, and even when Harold calls after her. She's not walking quickly that she'd be that hard to catch up with, though.
Portia mms and gives a bow to all assembled. She comes to stand silently beside Celeste. It's apparently what she does best, stand around and look vaguely tough. Or intimidating. Or something.
Miranda's formal bow to Portia and the accompanying greeting are like something out of a very good five-hundred-year-old book on etiquette at the court of the High King of Lyonesse. "My lady; it is an honor to be known to you."
You form a cluster with Emma.
Quina does offer Portia a smile, but she's very distracted by what she's doing.
Celeste looks up and chortles softly. A battered hand reaches out and pats Portia foot. Her eyes close and she chuckles, "The multiverse is going to hell, bu I am still blessed." she murmurs softly.
Liam winds up his ballad. He gives everyone here a little smile and then a wave before disappearing into the building to find a bed and get a little sleep.
Nearby, Harold says, "I would apologize for The Proxy, But she is her own person. I would know what you learned?"
Winter nods to Portia as she is introduced formally. She then waves to Liam as he departs.
Izett glances around slowly to everyone. Refilling her goblet of scotch, she moves to follow the ticked off Emma and the likely ticked off Harold. She isn't physically hurt just mentally a bit shell shocked and the scotch is doing wonders for that. Nodding to her men she moves to catch up seeing if she might join them or if they object.
Izett joins Emma.
Nearby, Emma turns on her heel, giving Harold a long, hard look. "You do not command me," she says, her alto low. "You are not my commanding officer, and I don't give a damn what Order you're the head of. Is that understood? It might serve you well to heed the words of Royal Necromancer and Brigadier of Marines of Amber's North Fleet. I am the best at what I do. Period." She tilts her chin. "Are we clear, Sir Knight?" Harold might be taking a bit of misdirected anger, here.
Celeste smiles to Portia, "My senior at arms here is neigh unflappable, and her manners are immaculate, but you should see her fight."
Portia shakes her head sightly to Miranda, "Please no Viscountess, Just Commander if you are feeling formal. The honor is all mine." She glances to Celeste and smirks faintly, "Now you're just making me curious, Proxy."
Nearby, Izett walks up to the two of you sipping on her scotch. Her eyes are a bit more focused, but she's not the most talkative at the moment merely listening quietly to the two as she approaches.
Privately, to Harold, Emma is, at least, trying not to make the man look bad in front of his own men, keeping her voice down.
Izett walks up quietly toward Harold and Emma, being careful not to spill her scotch. Pausing as she catches up to the two she seems simply to be listening for the moment.
Nearby, Harold meets Emma's gaze "I am aware, well aware who you are, with titles and I've seen something of your skills. Your King asked me to ask you, I am glad you are here, but be certain you understand you are not in Amber, and this is my Campaign. I will not be treated with disrespect. I have shown you /no/ disrespect. Do we have a problem?"
You paged Emma with 'his voice is down as well'.
Nearby, Emma's own gaze is unflinching. "Understand that without me, you will fail," she replies, evenly.
"My lady Commander," Miranda says, with a second bow. "I beg your ladyship's pardon, and I hope that perhaps my error may be excused upon grounds of simple ignorance. I shall endeavor to ensure that it is not repeated." The matter of her swordsmanship apparently does not warrant notice.
Nearby, Harold doesn't back down an inch "You under estimate us."
Nearby, Emma counters, "You overestimate yourselves."
Celeste chuckles, "Stick around, you may see plenty of action." She notes to Portia before rising with a soft gru"nt and a grimace, "I think I'm going to go see to accommodations for the family since half the family's here.
Winter doesn't try to follow anyone, she just stays near where Celeste and Portia are. She frowns as she notes the condition of her t-shirt and jeans, "Damn." She pokes her finger through one of the many tears.
Nearby, Izett looks between the two of them quietly for the time being simply listening as she sips from her goblet of scotch. Finally she speaks softly and slowly, "We..are stronger as a whole."
Nearby, Harold looks to Izett then back to Emma "I will not beg."
Nearby, Emma's own gaze skims toward Izett, then back to Harold. "I did not ask you to fall on your knees."
Portia winces slightly as Miranda continues with the lady thing, but says nothing lest she make the situation even worse. She simply nods politely to the woman and looks back to Celeste, "What's wrong with sleeping outside?" She offers a nod to Winter and a touch of a smile, tipping her head curiously at the poking of tears.
Nearby, Izett shakes her head, "Neither begs. Neither yields a knee. Mutual respect. We are stronger as a whole." she murmurs softly.
Celeste murmurs seriously, "There are dead crows dropping from the sky and winged beasts passing over now and again." She pauses at Winter's comment and blinks owlishly, "Something amiss, Lady winter?"
Nearby, Harold says, "Right then, did you manage to..." he seems at a loss "talk? to the roots?"
Quina seems content simply to listen while she studies her plant life.
Winter blinks and looks up sheepishly, "Oh... no Lady Proxy... I just didn't bring a change of clothing. I'll have to acquire some later. I didn't mean to hold you up with my stupidity." She smiles at Celeste brightly despite all the wounds.
Nearby, Emma all but grunts at Izett's words. "I wish she'd stop being right," she says, without even looking at her cousins. "Roots. Touched one. They're a bloody communication system throughout the entire land."
Celeste chuckles, "You can hardly be blamed for my nosiness."
"If your ladyship should require garb," Miranda says, with exquisite politeness (not even a hint of a smile!), "I should be glad to acquire something appropriate for your ladyship's rank."
Portia considers Winter and tips her head slightly the other way, "I have another uniform...but I think it will be a touch...long." Miranda gets another look and she murmurs to Celeste.
Nearby, Harold seems taken aback "Are they alive?" his brow furrows "I wonder if we do enough damage will it...disrupt the control of the zombies?" he glances to Izett "She has an habit of being right, that why she is in charge of Monsalvat's treasury"
Celeste chuckles and nods to Portia.
Nearby, Izett takes a sip of her scotch as if she hadn't heard anything about her being right. Simple innocent quotes of words as she continues to listen to the two speak.
Nearby, Emma positively smirks, at that. "Well, then, perhaps my cousin will be able to finish informing you, being that she's so often right."
Winter smiles at Celeste, "You're not being nosy Lady Proxy. Just concerned and I thank you for that." She then turns to Miranda, "That would be appreciated Viscountess, Thank you. I should probably heed Harold's advice and acquire some armor in the future." She looks at Portia and grins, "The down fall to being petite is I often have to have my clothes tailored."
Nearby, Izett peers between the two looking toward Emma, "Umm..I didn't do so well with the root. I got punched..everything pretty much went black..and I believe I got tied to a horse." that pretty much surmises her evening.
Portia nods to Winter, "I understand. I'm tall but it's a similar problem. I'm still growing it seems as well." She takes another look over at Miranda and then down at herself and then murmurs to Celeste.
Nearby, Emma says, easily, "That would be my point, yes."
Nearby, Harold looks at Izett's jaw "and who did the punching? Sir Taran was to be guarding you...where WAS he?" his attention goes back to Emma "so there is more?"
Miranda says, with a rueful smile, "It is a problem with which I have some small experience as well, my lady. Fortunately, it is of a class which yields readily enough to an adequate deployment of funds." She's only a little above five feet herself, and between the armor and her hair she could pass for a young gentleman herself.
Nearby, Emma says, with a faint smirk, "Taran was doing the punching." She lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "Dralmir. That's the heart of it."
Nearby, Izett about to answer before going silent and nodding in agreement that indeed, Sir Taran did the punching. Another sip of scotch.
Nearby, Harold hmmmsss "I'll have a word with Sir Taran about protection and what that means. I would like to try something tomorrow I will order the men to hack up the roots and drag them into the sun...let's see if we can get on top of this thing."
Nearby, Izett tilts her head, "I think he was trying to protect me..as was she..and umm..Lady Proxy. I think he just swung faster than them." she doesn't entirely seem clear on the exact time line of events really.
Winter nods. "I certainly appreciate that." She does take a moment to admire Miranda's armor. "Your craftsmen are very skilled. Your armor is exquisite, Viscountess." She compliments before looking to
Portia "And I do thank you as well."
Izett finishes her goblet of scotch, looking toward the empty bottom of the goblet considering, "I..have a headache..I think Sir Taran was right. I ..um..should go lay down and ahh..rest." she nods as that seems like a very good idea at the moment, "I believe he spoke of..setting up a room for me..in the tavern.."
Portia shakes her head to Winter, "No, it's nothing really," she comments offhandedly.
Nearby, Emma shakes her head slowly. "Be careful. Taran's planning on heading toward Dralmir, though I'm sure he'll update you soon enough."
Nearby, Harold offers his hand to Emma "Thank you for your risk on behalf of the Crusade."
Nearby, Emma manages to summon up a very, very thin smile, and takes the hand in return. "Just carrying out my Duty, Sir."
"Your ladyship is very kind," Miranda murmurs, modest. "In truth I was very fortunate in being able to locate such craftsmen."
Nearby, Harold offers a smile of his own, "But you could have said no, your Excellency, sleep well." he turns and moves off to see to whatever else is on his list.