Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM & BG - mature)

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johnlewismcleod
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Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by johnlewismcleod »

He followed behind on shaking legs. He tried to keep pace with her long strides, but her blue armour seemed to ever be retreating into dark distance. H looked up at the sky, it was pitch black. Selune’s lights were veiled to him. Even beneath her armour the shape of her body was clearly exquisite. He wondered what had happened to him that he no longer cared, as if part of him had died or gone numb.

He staggered up a hill, down a valley, up another hill, and then finally to a door. As she paused to open it he nearly lost control and grasped at her for support, but he managed to stay upright and follow her inside.

In the kitchen stood a dwarf in red gleaming armour, his gauntlets removed as he sorted gems and bright metals on the great table. His helm was removed and his face seemed familiar, but Rugo could not grasp the memory as it flitted about the ragged edge of his disheveled mind.

“I you to keep him here”, she said to the dwarf. “his mind has been injured and he has become entangled with a necromancer who would do him harm”

The dwarf grunted and shrugged, “Ehm cun stay, boot ehm’s nay slave, ehm cun go if ehm wish ta”

“I’ve no place to put him that might be safe, nor known for my kindness”, she said flatly. “If you care for him you will do as I ask, his life is in danger. I must go, I’ve an errant wench to attend to”. She turned and left, Rugo began to follow, but she turned him around and gave him a slight push toward the dwarf.



He sat before the hearth sipping rum and wondering why it tasted like water. He could hear the chattering of Jonas Therin’s orphans chattering in the background as he looked up at the mantelpiece. An exquisitely crafted sword rested there. With effort he struggled to his feet and looked closer at it. He could just make out an inscription. He wiped his eyes and stained to read it.

After pulling a stool and climbing atop he could just decipher the script…”Folly”.

As the meaning of the word slowly penetrated his rum addled mind he found he was swaying atop the stool. It suddenly felt as if he was teetering atop a barrel in heavy seas. He felt his mouth moving in song, and though he heard nothing coming from his mouth, he knew the verse. The barrel began to tip as the deck heaved. Then it suddenly dropped from beneath him, careening across the deck as he floated above. He tried to gather his feet below him to meet the deck he knew would be coming up hard as the ship plumbed the valley and then ascended the next swell, but they fouled on the grapple lines and instead he felt himself turned head first as he plunged.

With a thud Selune’s lights burst before his eyes, danced sickeningly, and then faded.

“ I will ‘ave ‘er, Bosun”, the low tone of lust clear in the captains tone, “An’ ye will fetch ‘er t’ me.”

“Bu’ cap’n, I canna step ashore anymore than ye may”, Rugo protested, “ ‘ow would ye ‘ave me fetch ‘er?”

The captain turned his smoldering green eyes on Rugo, “Wif song, me wee heartie….wif song”

Rugo blinked up at him, but said nothing. He knew it better to wait and let the captain speak next, as another protest would likely garner reprisal.

“Ye will scribe such verse as will make ‘er come t’ me”, he said, “Now set to, bosun, an’ smartly. We will be there at moonrise”.

“Aye, aye, cap’n”, Rugo’s mind churned with the ramifications of the task. What would become of Flora if the captain acquired another consort? Rugo knew she would not settle for second rate status in the captain’s favour. Would she demand Rugo’s help in undermining the new consort, or would she seek to task Rugo with her death? Rugo struggled to find some way forward in this that would profit him, or at least not bring him injury, but he could not. As he left the captain’s cabin his mind toiling with this misfortune, he heard a woman’s scream out on deck. He turned from the galley and went to see what the matter was.

As he stepped upon deck he saw Flora bound tightly lying naked near the main mast. An orcblood mate was tying off to her bindings from a tackle line, while a dozen or more sailors reclined about with various expressions of smug satisfaction. He knew in an instant what had transpired.

“So, ‘ad yer way wif the cap’n’s whore, ‘ave ye?” he asked, and forced a smile.

“Would ye favour me t’ ‘ave cookey bring ye a ration o’ grog so’s ye may take yer leisure in lordly style, then?” He let the smile fade into a black expression.

As the sailors scrambled to their feet, the mate Frak turned to look up from his finished knot. “Cap’n gave leave, bosun, she gift to worm. You want me cut legs loose so ye can ‘ave some?”

Rugo knew what they were thinking and why the captain had told him nothing of this in advance. He strode toward Flora as casually as he could manage with his heart in his throat, attempting to betray no sign of the dagger that was twisting in his heart. Great handfuls of her silky auburn hair swirled about the deck in the gentle sea breeze as he stood looking down at her. Her face was a swollen and bloody, and her body was covered in welts and bite marks; her stunning beauty stolen from her, never to be reclaimed. She began to say something to him, but he put his boot on her face and forced her mouth into the deck to silence her. He was afraid if he heard her plea he would waiver in what he must do and be lost himself.

“I prefer t’ ‘ave ‘em afore the ye lot ‘ave soiled ‘em”. He felt his throat quivering with strain as he tried to appear in complete control. “Heave Ho an’ o’er, Frak! Deny the worm ‘er sup nay longer.”

He released her face as the line went taut. She screamed again as the sailors pulled and the yardarm swung clear of the deck. For what seemed an eternity to Rugo, she dangled helplessly over the water until with a swirl, and then a hiss, the worm's head emerged beneath her. It coiled it's neck about for a few leisurely moments, examining her from various angles, before opening it’s maw and engulfing her. A final piercing scream came as the jaws closed and neatly nipped the line from the yard arm.

She was gone. The nearest thing to a mother he had ever known was gone. He turned back at to Frak and could feel the eyes of all present upon him.

“ ‘nough o’ this merrimernt, ye swine get back t’ task!." He barked in his angriest tone; "An’ step lively 'r ye'll be sleepin' wif the Cap’ns daughter tonigh’!”

As the sailors scattered he turned and made his way to the galley. The sun was already in wan and he would surely be the worm’s next meal if his verse failed him.
Last edited by johnlewismcleod on Fri Feb 06, 2009 9:16 pm, edited 4 times in total.
I seek plunder....and succulent greens


[Wynna] Chula Lysander: [Talk] *Shakes head* I've been in worse situations. He was just....unjoyful! *stomps foot*


Retired PC's: Torquil, Gwenevere
Former PC's: Rugo, Flora, Rory Mor
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Mick
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Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by Mick »

Stunning read. Keep them coming! :)
Talk less. Listen more.

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johnlewismcleod
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Joined: Mon Nov 17, 2008 1:37 am
Location: Tarrant County, Texas

Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by johnlewismcleod »

He was running toward the light, but his legs didn’t seem to be able to move well.

He looked down and saw that he was in a swamp. The muck sucked at his feet with each step. The dim orb before him seemed to be receding somehow; he redoubled his effort and began to pant. The air seemed heavy…almost liquid.

His heart began to pound as he realized he wasn’t in a swamp at all, but in the beneath the surface of the brackish water of a river feeding into the sea. The current became stronger and it seemed he would be washed backwards, deeper into the sea.

He leaned forward to reduce the drag of the flowing water rushing past, and dug his fingers into the muck in search of a handhold. His fingers passed through again and again, clawing full arms length into the muck for something, anything to hold on to. He felt his feet sliding backwards as the current grew stronger.

He began to burrow into the muck to escape the current, but as he disturbed it, it washed away, leaving him ever exposed. Then his fingers found something. It felt like soft cloth and began to tear. He plunged forward into the muck frenzied, trying to gather enough of the cloth in his finger to secure a purchase against the current. He managed to grasp enough that it seemed not to be tearing, but just then his feet came completely free and his body was ripped free of the muck and was sucked full into the current.

He held onto the cloth with desperate strength, his body flapping in the rushing water until he felt, with sickening despair, the cloth begin to give way. It wasn’t tearing, but whatever it was attached to began to pull free of the mud. He could do nothing but kick his feet desperately against the current trying to lessen his drag, but no use. With a sucking release and in a cloud of diffused mud the cloth clad object came loose and both he and it tumbled deeper and out to sea.

He grasped it close to himself as if it might save him, and realized it was soft,…and had form. As the auburn hair washed into his face he found himself staring into Flora’s pierce gaze once more….

With a jolt he leapt to his feet, writhing arm akimbo trying to push it away. He was standing before Jonas fireplace, a toppled stool at his feet. He looked around the room, all was quite except the sound of someone scraping with an abrasive in the kitchen. He staggered to the doorway and looked beyond, it was the dwarf in red armor. He was standing exactly as before with his gems on the tabletop. Rugo wiped his eyes and turned back to the fireplace. His rum bottle was just as he’d left it half drunk on the hearth. He looked at the stool, one leg was in the fire and just beginning to smolder.

He pulled the stool back and righted it. What was happening to him? How could so little time have passed yet, so much transpired? He sat down heavily, picked up his rum bottle, and took a long pull. It tasted like muddy water. He retched for a moment, and then set it back down.

He looked back up at the sword on the mantelpiece. The inscription read, “Folly” he remembered. My efforts have all been folly, he thought. Each deception I have thought a success, each triumph of survival, each death at my hand, every talent I have mastered, all have brought me only here; alone, unloved, deserving of nothing but the curse I bear and the suffering before me. All is folly.

My life is folly.

He took up his bottle and took another long pull. He stared into the fire and watched the flames dance. Small vortexes like water spouts careened occasionally as the smoldering pieces of wood shifted. He began to watch a bit of log just beyond an expanse of coals. There was a knot which had fallen away and beyond it flame flickered within the moldering carcass of oak. The flame was hypnotic and as he watched the log became a keep at the edge of a bay, the knot a window with warm lamplight within.

He stood beside Captain Red in the crow’s-nest of the Black Lass. It was draped in red and blue velvet, gold chain and diamonds glittering garlands hung about. He looked up at the Captain standing tall and regal in his finest brushed satin. He tried to remember which noble family had lost that suit to the Black Lass, but just then the captain reached down and lifted him onto the bedecked edge of the crow’s-nest.

“Now sing, bosun, as if yer life depended on it”, he whispered into Rugo’s ear,” Fer it does”.

Rugo looked across at the window, how warm and safe it seemed in that keep. How could a sane woman be drawn from there into the hell of the Black Lass? He looked down as he heard Frak lowering a bark into the bay. As Frak readied his oars, Rugo felt the Captain’s hand cup around his neck and give a firm squeeze. He looked back at the window, from where they sat it was but a score of feet away, but it might as well have been in the outer planes, for it was that far beyond his reach.

He began to sing toward the window, strumming a plaintive tune on his lute. Soon a dark haired woman appeared, her flowing lockes cascading free past the sill. She leaned ever more forward as he sang :

Me ship be clad in burlap to set quiet in the bay,
and it must be gone at the dawn of the day.
Selune’s in her shroud for to guide from afar
Be daring and heed the call of lovelighted star.
So wake, lady wake, I be waiting for thee,
Oh, this night or never me bride thou shalt be,
Awake, lass, and hither must ye come to me,
Lest on the morrow be deprived love’s sweet revere

Forgive me rough manners nay accustomed to sue;
I woo nay, mayhaps, as the landlubbers do.
Me and me crewmates revel in the clash of arms
But come to me and I promise ye'll come to nay harm.
So wake, lady wake, I be waiting for thee,
Oh, this night or never me bride thou shalt be,
Awake, lass, and hither must ye come to me,
Lest on the morrow be deprived love’s sweet revere

Aye the Moonsea fleet doth flee from our path,
and the mercherntmen cower below at our wrath,
And though the swells be gilt in the gore of our passing,
I pledge for ye me passion will be everlasting.
So wake, lady wake, I be waiting for thee,
Oh, this night or never me bride thou shalt be,
Awake, lass, and hither must ye come to me,
Lest on the morrow be deprived love’s sweet revere

A hundred shall serve - the best of the brave,
And the chief of a thousand shall kneel as thy slave,
And thou shalt reign queen, and thy empire shall last
For as long as thy king rules aboard the Black Lass.
So wake, lady wake, I be waiting for thee,
Oh, this night or never me bride thou shalt be,
Awake, lass, and hither must ye come to me,
Lest on the morrow be deprived love’s sweet revere


As he finished she was leaning full forward so eager to hear, and with a final flourish he unleashed a charm of magic that he saw take full hold of the woman.

“Come t’ the shore, me lady,” he cooed, “yer carriage and prince await”.

She left the window and moments later the door to the keep groaned open and the loveliest dark haired woman he’d ever seen emerged barefoot, clad only in her nightclothes. She came to the water’s edge where Frak , hooded but in princely satin, nosed the bark close in the shallows.

She hesitated as she stepped into the cold water and Rugo strummed sweetly and cooed, “Come, me lady, step for’ard an’ meet yer prince. ‘e awaits ye on deck wif warmed satins”.

She waded forward and Frak pulled her in as if she were weightless. A pull on the barkline and she was alongside. Rugo watched the Captain descend the lowered shroud and gather her up.

It was done. As she set her soft, white foot on deck it was done. She was now a slave of the Black Lass and must serve at Captain Red Torquil’s pleasure. He wondered how she would fare as the reality of her plight became known to her. He climbed down the rigging, barked some orders at the sailors, and then took up his post outside the Captain’s cabin window.

As he continued to croon for the couple within he thought that at least this night would be good for her.

This night would be one of adventure and pleasure.

At least there was that.


* song adapted from traditional *
I seek plunder....and succulent greens


[Wynna] Chula Lysander: [Talk] *Shakes head* I've been in worse situations. He was just....unjoyful! *stomps foot*


Retired PC's: Torquil, Gwenevere
Former PC's: Rugo, Flora, Rory Mor
johnlewismcleod
Dungeon Master
Posts: 2021
Joined: Mon Nov 17, 2008 1:37 am
Location: Tarrant County, Texas

Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by johnlewismcleod »

He saw the horns before anything else. So small in the distance, but with a metallic gleam that caught the eye. The daemon was still at least a league away, but as he turned to flee he was sure that he saw the faint glow of its blue eyes fixed on him. He started to swim, but the current opposed his effort. He pulled at his leather amour to free himself from the drag of it and….Thump!

His head hit the floor. He opened his eyes and found himself still before Jonas fireplace, both hands grasping the neckline of his armor. He released himself and rubbed his eyes. Don’t sleep, he told himself. When I sleep, they come. I must not sleep.

He looked up again at “Folly”. He wondered why would Lord Jonas, a hero of Lathander and slayer of dragons, name his sword “Folly”. Surely all the good deeds done by such a one would be a comfort to the soul. He could proudly tell the tales of his deeds and ever have praise heaped upon himself for having done them.

Not like me, nothing like my deeds. As he stared up at the blade he became aware of a faint din, almost inaudible, of a chorus of voices. He covered his eyes to focus on the sound…..it was wailing. But it seemed so distant, like that of waves crashing on a shore beyond sight. He picked up his bottle and finished it in one long pull. The rum tasted like water and slip down his throat absent the comforting heat he had enjoyed so much in times past.

I just have to stay here until the wavemistress comes, or the necromancer is captured. Just stay here and awake and she will help me. Therein lays my only hope, dim and vaporous as it may be.

Stay here, stay awake.

He pulled another bottle from his pack and pulled the cork. As he took a drink he thought the din had perhaps grown slightly louder….slightly nearer.

He took bit off a mouthful of bread. As he chewed he noticed it was tasteless. As if backed from clay it failed to diminish in his mouth and could only be forced down in concert with a mouthful of tasteless rum.
I seek plunder....and succulent greens


[Wynna] Chula Lysander: [Talk] *Shakes head* I've been in worse situations. He was just....unjoyful! *stomps foot*


Retired PC's: Torquil, Gwenevere
Former PC's: Rugo, Flora, Rory Mor
johnlewismcleod
Dungeon Master
Posts: 2021
Joined: Mon Nov 17, 2008 1:37 am
Location: Tarrant County, Texas

Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by johnlewismcleod »

He heard voices in the orphanage kitchen. He rubbed his eyes and the smarting pain helped him concentrate so he could nearly separate them from the cacophony that had engulfed him as he waited before the fire these past weeks. What had begun as a faint and distant din of unknown plaintive voices had welled to a crescendo of voices he knew well. Over the weeks he had sorted many scores of them and reassigned them the faces memory had slowly erased.

They were the victims of the Black Lass. How beyond death they had found and come for him he could not fathom, but here they were, arrayed all about him in their tens of hundreds. Pleading for the mercy he did not give before, and could not give now; “Let’ me pray to my god before I die…..Spare the children, I beg you….Take my life, just let her go…..Not the babies! Please not the babies!....”.

He rose and shuffled nearer the kitchen so he could better hear …”The children are safe now, the sorceress Shannon is in High Hold’s dungeon…”.

He finished off the bottle dangling in his hand, dropped it where he stood, and shuffled toward the door.

Finally he could leave, and as he strode unsteadily toward Silverymoon the din receded a bit, trailing out behind him.
I seek plunder....and succulent greens


[Wynna] Chula Lysander: [Talk] *Shakes head* I've been in worse situations. He was just....unjoyful! *stomps foot*


Retired PC's: Torquil, Gwenevere
Former PC's: Rugo, Flora, Rory Mor
johnlewismcleod
Dungeon Master
Posts: 2021
Joined: Mon Nov 17, 2008 1:37 am
Location: Tarrant County, Texas

Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by johnlewismcleod »

He had to keep moving, it was the only way to stay awake; the only way to stay ahead of them. Even as he moved he could feel them, just beyond sight. He saw a tall dark figure on the road, it seemed to be waiting for him, but he had not the will to avoid it. As he approached it spoke, “Rugo…are you well?”

As he stopped and looked up at the human the chorus of their plaintive sobs and screams drew closer, the din wafting over him so he could hardly hear what the human said. The dark features of the human were shrouded by a hood, he asked, “‘Oo be ye? ‘Ave ye come fer me as well?”

“It is I, Rugo…, Ward Halliams, servant of Kelemvor. What has happened to you, can you not see me?”

He moved his mouth to speak but could not hear his own words for the din of the suffering horde that rang in his ears. He reached out and tried to take Ward’s hand, but was shaking so violently he could not quite grasp it.

“Steady, my friend, I can help you”, Ward said as he grasped Rugo’s arm to steady him. Immediately the calm strength of his touch comforted Rugo, but his legs shook so erratically all he could manage was to be dragged along in Ward’s grip.

Ward took him into the crypt by the river’s edge, and into a room where two armored knights stood vigil over empty rows of benches. “What ails you, Rugo? If I am to help you must tell me”.

He tried to speak again, “They come for me….daemons and devils….they come.”

“Who are they, Rugo”, Ward asked in a calmly, then looked about. “I see no one, Rugo. They cannot enter here, this is Kelemvor’s keep. You are safe here. Sit and rest”. He pushed Rugo gently to the floor, and as his trembling legs bent to sit, he collapsed prone from exhaustion.

His eyes closed despite himself, and he felt himself land with a splash splayed out on the water. Two horns breached the surface just beside him, then slowly the white and black hair laced out flat over the forehead as it rose up, then the glowing eyes, unblinking, then the fanged mouth, creasing into a smile as a hand emerged, reaching for him, until it touched his brow with an icy shock….

He felt a scream welling up within his chest as he sprang to his feet and bolted for the door. But it was closed and he crashed into it, knocking himself senseless.

As he lay once again prone, Ward summoned Kelemvor’s grace and cast his lord’s peace over Rugo.

Then, as he saw Rugo slip into deep, peaceful sleep, he finished wiping Rugo's brow with the wet rag.

Late the following day Rugo woke. He looked about and saw Amon Ra gazing at him impassively. He clambered to his feet and bowed, then turned and folded the bedroll on which he had lain neatly, setting it on a bench. He took a deep breath and realized the dim of the voices had receded once again to a distant hum, and he felt rested.

He approached Amon Ra and knelt low, “I beg ye word me thanks t’ Ward Hallian, and to Laird Kelemvor fer ‘is grace.” He left an offering of coin and hurried to the Angler’s Inn to wash. Then stopped briefly to refill his pack with rum and hurried down the road toward Silverymoon.
Last edited by johnlewismcleod on Sat Feb 14, 2009 4:17 pm, edited 2 times in total.
I seek plunder....and succulent greens


[Wynna] Chula Lysander: [Talk] *Shakes head* I've been in worse situations. He was just....unjoyful! *stomps foot*


Retired PC's: Torquil, Gwenevere
Former PC's: Rugo, Flora, Rory Mor
johnlewismcleod
Dungeon Master
Posts: 2021
Joined: Mon Nov 17, 2008 1:37 am
Location: Tarrant County, Texas

Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by johnlewismcleod »

He walked slowly along the Silverymoon docks. His legs, weak with fatigue, trembled persistently and his knees felt as if they might buckle with a moment’s loss of concentration. “Press on”, he told himself, “Tarry nay lest they overtake”. He kept the thought rolling ever through his mind, forcing himself to think it and hear it over the incessant din of the long dead victims of the Black Lass, as if to prove to himself he still had some control over his tortured mind.

He had just left the Ironshield Forge, where he had gone to seek advice, but when Garlus insisted he tell him the truth of his past, Rugo collapsed under the weight of his plight and unhindered by the guile and deceit he had made it his life’s endeavor to perfect, poured forth the foul history of his life in a sobbing eruption. When eventually the realization of what he had done pierced the black fog of despair that gripped his mind, he looked up at Garlus, fully expecting to see the dwarf’s axe descending upon him.

Garlus stood looking down at Rugo with a scowl, and he vowed to himself he would not dodge the blow when it came. He knew he deserved death both for the foul deeds he had done, and the lapse of judgment in confessing it. But even as cowered at Garlus’ feet, waiting for the retribution he knew must come, he felt somehow liberated by his guileless confession.

Finally Garlus spoke, and to Rugo’s amazement his voice was calm,....even kind. He said that while what Rugo had done in the past was vile, what mattered more was what he did from this point forward that would determine his fate. He counseled him to gather his ransom and purchase his freedom. And to endeavor from this day forward to make amends for the evil he had done.

Then he pressed a precious sea gem into Rugo’s palm, “There be a start t’wards yer ransom, gather the rest an’ tell me when ye be ready t’ start yer trek”. He even offered to accompany Rugo to Baldur’s Gate to see that Ingriss did not betray him.

Rugo could only look up at him and blink back tears in amazement. He could not fathom why a warrior of such lofty status would be so kind to one such as himself. Even knowing Rugo’s past he offered his help. Why would he do this? What possible profit could be in it for Garlus?


He saw ahead a tall ship with fine riggings and a group of dock workers busily shifting goods from the hoist. It was an odd mix, a male elf, a male human, a male orcblood, and a female hin. He approached the hin, “I needs be findin’ some sea gems, lass….”

She cut him short, her eyes flashing disdain, “Oh…ye ‘ear tha’ big ‘un? This derelict says ‘e needs gems! ‘Ow ‘bouts ye turn ‘im ‘oer and give ‘im a rum shakin’ ou’? We’ll see if ‘e’s got any coin in ‘is pockets!”

Rugo looked down at himself; he’d not washed in two ten day weeks. He looked up again just in time to see the orcblood looping his great arms down at Rugo with a malicious gleam in his eyes. Reflexively Rugo ducked and managed to side step him, but he was too weak and exhausted to fight. He held up a hand, “I’ve nay strength fer strife, an’ such would profit ye nay leastwise. If ye care nay t’ word wif me, I’ll jus’ be on me way”

The orcblood stood befuddled, shrugged and turned to the hin. “’e no want to fight”.

The hin lass’ said scornfully, “D’ we look like Lairds an’ Ladies ‘avin’ our tea ‘ere? Be off wif ye, afore I ‘ave the big ‘un give ye a proper thrashin’ fer yer trouble!”

Rugo turned and started away, but as he reached the dockside main, he heard a voice just behind him. ”Hold a momernt”, it said.

He turned and rubbed his smarting eyes to see the hin lass had followed him. “I canna stand t’ see a righ’ sized jack in such a piteous state. Take ye up t’ Isiola’s shop, I jus’ saw a long leg go up tha’ way wif a great sack o’ gems”.

Rugo pulled a handful of coin from his purse and tried to give it to her, but she slapped his hand away. “Off wif ye, now…an’ wash yerself. Ye smell like an orc!”
Last edited by johnlewismcleod on Wed Feb 11, 2009 4:05 pm, edited 2 times in total.
I seek plunder....and succulent greens


[Wynna] Chula Lysander: [Talk] *Shakes head* I've been in worse situations. He was just....unjoyful! *stomps foot*


Retired PC's: Torquil, Gwenevere
Former PC's: Rugo, Flora, Rory Mor
User avatar
Riotnrrd
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Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by Riotnrrd »

Awesome story.
johnlewismcleod
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Posts: 2021
Joined: Mon Nov 17, 2008 1:37 am
Location: Tarrant County, Texas

Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by johnlewismcleod »

As Rugo staggered toward Isiola’s shop, a flickering glimmer of hope teased at his mind….maybe he could find the human with the gems, maybe the gems were sea gems; maybe he could strike a deal.

He moved his hand to his purse and despair clapped back down about him like a black shroud; not even five hundred in gold did he have. Sea gems were valued as much for even less than a handful, and he needed a sack the size of his head.

How would he have them from him even if he found the man? Perhaps distract him and slip them from his pack unawares? He held his hands before him and saw that they were shaking beyond his control.

Could he sing him a song and enchant him? He stopped and tried to sing, but felt his voice quivering and knew he could not carry a tune even sweet enough to draw a smile, much less enchant.

He reached within his cloak and drew forth his sword. I could follow him until my lord revealed the opportunity and cut his throat, but even as he considered this he felt no connection to Mask. Rugo felt emptiness where the Lord of Shadows had once bolstered his soul.

Rugo wondered when he had abandoned him… was it when Ward Hallian had lain him at Kelemvor’s feet? No, he thought, Lord Mask had fought alongside Lord Kelemvor against Cyric.

Was it when he confessed his past to Garlus? Perhaps, he thought. This was a grave misstep that Lord Mask would find witless and weak. But he hadn’t revealed his patron to Garlus. True a misstep, but not unredeemable, surely….then like a flash it came to him.

It was on the hill above the orphanage. The memory flooded back into his crippled mind with glowing radiance; he had knelt beside Dawn as she prayed. As Lathander rose over the eastern peaks and Dawn’s soft chanting caressed his ears, the Morninglord’s light had pierced his soul. He had sobbed as she had drawn back the veil, exposing a portal into his soul though which Lathander’s light entered. He had kissed her hand, with no thought of ravaging her lovely body even as his lips touched her creaming skin, but in overwhelming gratitude for the gift she had given him.

“E’en in the inky depths, my lady,” he had choked out, “The gift o’ this sunrise I will keep. “
The beauty of it lingered even now, like glowing golden pearl lying in the back depths of his tortured soul. He tried to reach for it, pluck it up between his fingers, and draw it closer, but with a clattering clang he was roused out of his reverie.

He looked down and realized he had dropped his sword on the cobblestones. He bent, picked it up, and realized he could not murder to acquire his ransom. Somehow, without even knowing it himself, that door had been closed to him. Was he now godless...one of the lost souls doomed to entombment in Kelemvor’s wall?

He looked up at the sky. He knew the sun was up there somewhere, but all he could see was dark grey, as if even the light of the sun was now to be denied him. The air was heavy and thick as he labored to move through it.

Though he repeated over and over to himself to press on, he knew his hope of salvation was dashed. Mask had deserted him, and the only god that knew him wanted him dead and chained in her depths as a slave.

He thought about Jonas’ lecture on the hill above the orphanage. Jonas had asked what could be done with an incorrigible villain who would not reveal a secret needed to save a life. He hesitated to speak even though the answer seemed so simple to Rugo he wondered that the group spoke it nay. Finally he offered the obvious solution he knew from experience worked well, “I’d start wif ‘is toes, me laird. Take nay more than one joint wif each cut, and…”

Lord Jonas blind eyes had shot fire at him, “NO!” the anger in his voice struck Rugo like a blow. “Torture is NEVER an answer! And if you ever suggest such again you will leave my lands and never return!”

Rugo had been stunned by his misstep, and knew immediately how far removed from himself was the wisdom Jonas was teaching. Jonas was reading from text Rugo had never seen, and if he was even given the parchment he would likely not know the language.

As much as he treasured the beacon of light Dawn had revealed to him, it was by equal measure that far beyond his reach.
Last edited by johnlewismcleod on Thu Feb 12, 2009 2:25 am, edited 1 time in total.
I seek plunder....and succulent greens


[Wynna] Chula Lysander: [Talk] *Shakes head* I've been in worse situations. He was just....unjoyful! *stomps foot*


Retired PC's: Torquil, Gwenevere
Former PC's: Rugo, Flora, Rory Mor
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Mick
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Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by Mick »

Very nice. :D
Talk less. Listen more.

Current PCs: ?
johnlewismcleod
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Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by johnlewismcleod »

As he entered Isiola’s shop, he paused and tried to muster his waning strength to push back the din ringing in his ears. He brushed off his leather and straightened his hair. He strode forward and said, “I seek sea gems, me lady. I were worded at the docks some may ‘ave been brought t’ ye”

“I have some, aye….anything in particular ye fancy?” she asked as she spread out an assortment of pearls on the counter. “They be rare here in the mountains, as ye nay doubt know…but for a price they may be had”.

With that simple statement Rugo felt his composure begin to waver, “I be needin’ a quantity tha’ would fill a sack…uhmmm…the size o’ me knob…me head, I mean t’ say”

Isiola blinked at him, “Your what?” He could see that any possible stature he might have had when he walked in was now dashed.

He knew he had blundered, but didn’t seem to have possession of the ability to speak with greater guile or tact, “I ‘ave bu’ five hundred gold coins, an’ tha’ be the quantity I mus’ muster. ‘Ave ye any sea gems o’ low grade, may’aps, tha’ may be ‘ad fer tha’ price?”

She stared at him a moment in wide eyed amazement, then burst into laughter. The laughter of women was something in the past that would always warm Rugo’s heart, but though she was obviously happily amused, her laughter seemed like so many venomous adders striking at him. He found himself wincing, and his hands involuntarily came up in a defensive gesture.

Her hilarity ceased as rapidly as it had begun, and she stared at him incredulously for a long moment. Finally she broke the silence, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“If it please ye, me lady”, he stammered, “May’aps coral shards ‘r lapis tha’ be nay fine ‘nough fer mountin’? Anythin’ tha’ be from the salt sea, me lady…” he trailed off as he saw her exasperated expression.

She frowned at him for a moment, as if hoping he would leave, then turned on her heel and strode toward a backroom. “Stand fast a moment, I’ll look in the cutting room”, she cast back over her shoulder as she strode away.

He put a hand on the corner post to steady himself and rubbed his smarting eyes. He pulled a bottle of rum from his pack and took a long pull, but it might as well have been water for the warmth it brought him. He looked back up as she returned.

She strode smartly forward and planted her feet shoulder width and squarely before him, looking him firmly in the eyes with a stern expression. “I’ve naught that would muster into such an amount, and if I did, ye’d need a dragon’s horde to purchase it.”

It was the answer he'd expected, but strangely it did not fall upon him with the heavy thud he had expected it would, but rather softly. An almost ethereal emptiness filled him. He shrugged, nodded, and turned to go. “Me thanks, me lady…fer indulgin’ me t’ look”.

As he turned away, she said in a flat, but firm voice, “Wait,...look at me”.

He turned back and saw she had not moved or softened her stance. “What’s your name?”

“I be Rugo, me lady”, he said simply, no longer possessed of any flair for embellishment.

“Why do you seek such quantity of gems?” her eyes were hard and piercing, demanding a direct and truthful answer.

“I mus’ ‘ave ‘em fer to ransom me life an’ soul.” he said, unable to think of anything more tactful than the unvarnished truth. “Such be the price o’ me freedom”.

She continued to stare at him for a long moment, tight lipped, until with an exasperated puff of air, she took him by the arm and dragged him toward a chair. She pushed him gently toward it, “Sit and tell me what this is about. I cannot conscience to see a right sized male in such a state”.

She again fixed him with a hard stare, “Now mind you, I’ll have the truth, and all of it, if you wish my help”.

He blinked up at her and hesitated. This was the moment he must gather the loosed strings of his unraveling wits together and muster a lie that could bend her to his will. He rubbed his eyes and exhaled, casting about in his broken mind for some guileful tale that might save him…anything…but the truth.

He looked back up and her eyes again transfixed him. Her face seemed to metamorphose…she was Isiola…she was Dawn...she was Ingriss…she was Merry…she was Flora. He blinked but could not force her face into focus.

“I be cursed and Umberlee’s daemons be in me wake…”, and on he rambled. He was not certain if he was even coherent. But even as he had done for Garlus, he laid out the sordid tale of his life before her disapproving glare in its entirety.

Eventually his voice failed him and he could no longer hold back the tears. He trailed off as the weight of his plight crushed down too heavily to longer withstand.

He rose to leave and once again she reached out and stopped him, pushing him back into the seat. “That is as foul a tale of misadventure as I’ve ever heard. Many would say you well deserve the fate that has befallen you.”

He wiped his eyes and looked up at her, “Aye, me lady, an’ I fault ye nay if ye turn me away”.


“I did nay say I would nay help you, Rugo”. She drummed her fingers on her chin as she gazed down at him. “You mean to make amends for the wickedness of your past, you say?”

He nodded, “I do, if I live to be given the chance… aye, me lady”

“Take yourself to the inn and have some sleep. I will consider what you have said”, she said noncommittally. “Come back on the morrow and we will talk again”

“I canna take rest, me lady. The daemon’s come when I close me eyes”.

“Silverymoon is warded, Rugo”, she stated flatly, “Nay such beasts may pass her gates. You are perfectly safe within her walls. Go now, I must consider what you’ve said”
I seek plunder....and succulent greens


[Wynna] Chula Lysander: [Talk] *Shakes head* I've been in worse situations. He was just....unjoyful! *stomps foot*


Retired PC's: Torquil, Gwenevere
Former PC's: Rugo, Flora, Rory Mor
johnlewismcleod
Dungeon Master
Posts: 2021
Joined: Mon Nov 17, 2008 1:37 am
Location: Tarrant County, Texas

Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by johnlewismcleod »

It was raining as he wandered about the northeast section of Silverymoon. He was searching for an inn, but was distracted by a small shadowy figure that seemed to be following him. Each time he turned a corner, the blue haired, biped was either ahead of him, just beyond the point where Rugo might discern its features, or behind him, following in the shadows.

“She said they canna enter”, he repeated over and over to himself as he walked, “It canna be a daemon”. But as the dance continued, his confidence in Isiola’s statement waned ever more.

He pressed himself into the shadow of an entryway and slipped a trembling hand within his cloak, grasping the hilt of his sword. It was a smallish figure, right sized, in fact. Perhaps he could take it unawares and slay it before it loosed its magic’s upon him.

As he cowered in the shadow he saw it turn the corner in the distance, but it stopped immediately. He held his breath trying not to reveal himself, but although he could still not discern it’s features, its face seemed to be locked on him. He pressed himself further back into the entryway, his eyes casting about as he struggled to muster control of his trembling body.

Then he saw them. A puddle had formed between some broken and missing cobblestones just beyond the stoop, and as each raindrop struck the surface it revealed a staring eye, and then ethereal figures within as the ripples arced out over the surface of the puddle. His blood seemed to freeze in his veins and he clawed desperately at the door until his hand came to rest on the knob. With a turn it swung open and he stumbled within, and then slammed the door closed behind.

“Good afternoon, sir! Welcome to the Golden Oak, sir”, a brisk female voice came from behind him, “How can I help you?” He rubbed his smarting eyes and looked about the warm interior. It seemed peaceful and safe.

He looked back at the door for a moment, then pulled some coin from his purse. Pressing it into the woman’s palm, he asked for a room key.

The elf opened the gate to the inner courtyard and Rugo looked it over warily, then back up at the elf, “Be the rooms secured from villainy, matey?”

The elf shifted the longbow on his shoulder slightly, then raised an eyebrow and said icily, “We ensure the safety of our guests and guard the peace with utmost rigor, small sir. See that you disturb none of our guests, and I assure you will be quite safe.”

Rugo, too exhausted to take umbrage at the elf’s tone, and simply shrugged and made for his room straight away. Once inside he quickly locked the door behind him, pulled the shutters to, and stripped. He tossed his long fouled short clothes into the corner with disdain and emptied a bottle of rum in one long pull.

As he tossed the empty bottle atop his crusted undergarments he heard a slight groan of complaint from the wooden shutters. He froze in place and watched as a thin blade inched its way up the divide toward the latch. He silently pulled his sword from its sheath and crept close below the sill, peaking through the widened divide.

He saw a right sized hand levering a kukri with stealthy deliberation upward toward his shutter latch, and a bit of blue hair peaking above the window sill. His blood ran cold, and the din in his ears ratcheted up in pitch. “If it could easily have me, it would nay employ stealth”, he thought.

With a battle cry he hurled himself at the shutters, intending to pop the latch and fly through in one motion. But his agility was much impaired by rum and lack of sleep, and instead he thumped against the shutters clumsily, falling back into the room. He immediately regained his feet, and attempted to charge out the door, but having forgotten that he’d locked it, he found himself hurried picking the lock before he could finally charge out in pursuit.

Once he gained the courtyard, he could see no-one about but the woman dressed in woven bark, and the elf with longbow. Rugo charged about the courtyard, parting the shrubbery with his sword, “Come out an’ ‘ave at me, devil...show yerself, fiend!”

Finding nothing he stopped and looked up at the elf guard, “Did ye see where it went?”

“Where who went, pray tell, naked sirrah?” the elf’s eye’s had a deadly gleam in them that stopped Rugo in his tracks.

“The beast ‘oo sought entry a’ me window….did ye see any horns?” Rugo asked with quickly waning conviction.

“All I see, small sirrah, is a drunken hin who is about to gather his belongings and leave this inn”. His tone was venomous, and Rugo noticed that he had an arrow at the ready. He looked around the courtyard and realized that while many faces had now appeared, none were demonic, and all were staring at him rather than looking for a villain.

He looked down at himself. He was stark naked, clad only in tattoos. He looked up at the woman in the bark cloth, she stared down at him with a shocked expression, which quickly turned to disdain as his eyes met hers.

“Now!” barked the elf behind him, “my patience wanes.”

Rugo knew he should be ashamed, but that emotion seemed lost to him now, as did all others save fear, despair, and rage. He walked silently back to his room, pulled some fresh short clothes from his pack, and re-donned his armors. He went to the washbasin, washed his face, wiped his armor down, and tossed the rag into the corner with his other refuse.

As he passed the elf and the wide eyed inn matron, he said quietly, “Me apologies. I meant nay ‘arm.”

He stepped out the door, and saw that the rain had stopped. Looking at the puddle he saw it had calmed and nothing seemed to be stirring within. “May’aps I be losing me mind”, he thought. Then he looked up and saw him.

The blue haired daemon was standing just down the cobblestone path at a turn in the row houses. It was watching him. He jerked out his sword and charged with a hoarse battle cry, but the daemon turned and fled. The chase wound through winding pathways until Rugo was panting from exhaustion and his vision was collapsing to a narrow tunnel. The Daemon effortlessly stayed out of reach, and then abruptly disappeared.

Rugo stopped, and reflexively backed away. Even impaired as he was, the trickery of entrapment was second nature to him. As he cleared the alley he turned and made his way to the Wayward Inn as quickly as his shaking legs would carry him.
I seek plunder....and succulent greens


[Wynna] Chula Lysander: [Talk] *Shakes head* I've been in worse situations. He was just....unjoyful! *stomps foot*


Retired PC's: Torquil, Gwenevere
Former PC's: Rugo, Flora, Rory Mor
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Mick
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Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by Mick »

Very enjoyable! :D
Talk less. Listen more.

Current PCs: ?
johnlewismcleod
Dungeon Master
Posts: 2021
Joined: Mon Nov 17, 2008 1:37 am
Location: Tarrant County, Texas

Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by johnlewismcleod »

As he approached High Hold he struggled to remain focused on the task at hand. It had been three ten-day weeks since he had slept and he frequently found his mind being carried away from his numbed body by the torrent of plaintive voices swirling about him.

Isiola had told him to seek out a rough hewn human with a missing ear in High Hold. She’d said he was likely to stop there for supplies before proceeding into the mountains. “He brought in a large sack of sea gems; I think he found them in the mountains. Take care in your dealings with him though, Rugo. His demeanor is a bit….unsavory.”

He’d promised to write glowing verse for her, for the hope she’d held out for him. “If I live, me lady, and regain me talent wif verse, I will rove such verse fer ye as will make it known t’ all Silverymoon wha’ a noble dam ye be.”

He had attempted to bow, but instead fell to his knees from exhaustion. He tried to kiss her foot.
She jerked it away. “None of that, Rugo, stand up like a proud hin!” she snapped. As he regained his feet unsteadily she stepped close and sniffed at him. “Ye promised to stop drinking, have you lied to me already?”

“Nay a drop ‘as passed me lips, me lady…on me word.” It was true, but the room was swimming and his throat parched for longing for rum.

“Did ye have your rest as I told ye?” her eyes hard with suspicion.

“Aye, me lady….e’en as ye asked”. Easier to lie than to explain.

He stumbled, catching himself on the signpost at the fork in the road. He looked up at the High Hold battlements framed against a dull gray sky. He rubbed his eyes and blinked, trying to determine if it was day or night.

“Hello, Rugo”, the voice was close and strangely familiar. He turned and saw a tall elf in noble robes leaning over him, “Are you well?”

He pushed himself from the post, “I be seekin’ a long leg”, Rugo winced. His throat hurt from the effort to speak, but the pain seemed distant, the wince delayed.

“There are many about. Was there one in particular you seek?” the elves expression was stern, the sharpness of his tone implied authority. Rugo was certain he knew this elf, but recognition remained just beyond his grasp.
“’E be missin’ an ear” Rugo reached up to touch his own ear, but didn’t feel anything. Inexplicably he turned to look to see if he’d lost it.

A hand touched his shoulder, “You have been drinking far too much, Rugo. And you have the stench of one unwashed” Rugo looked back and the face was closer. It was Lord Vonlyr, his stern eyes showed his displeasure.

“Me apologies, me laird,” his mind came back to his body with his shame. “I’ve been t’ Silver’moon, I’ve….I….she…a human” He stammered helplessly.

The hand on his shoulder took hold of a pad and began to pull him along, “Come, Rugo,” Vonlyr said calmly. “You will wash and rest. And when you regain your senses you will tell me what the matter is”.

He lifted Rugo into the boat, the stroked quickly across the river to the Inn. As they entered the Inn he pushed some coin into Rugo palm and pointed silently at the stairs leading up to the rooms.

Rugo blinked up at Vonlyr for a moment, then turned and looked about at the inn patrons. Wordlessly he climbed the stairs to the rooms. After searching the rooms he returned downstairs and peeked into the great room. Vonlyr had taken a seat facing away from the stairway. Rugo crouched and silently slipped back across the room, then out the inn door.

As he rowed back for High Hold keep he mustered his waning strength.

“Press on”, he told himself, “I must press on”.
I seek plunder....and succulent greens


[Wynna] Chula Lysander: [Talk] *Shakes head* I've been in worse situations. He was just....unjoyful! *stomps foot*


Retired PC's: Torquil, Gwenevere
Former PC's: Rugo, Flora, Rory Mor
johnlewismcleod
Dungeon Master
Posts: 2021
Joined: Mon Nov 17, 2008 1:37 am
Location: Tarrant County, Texas

Re: Rugo's Tales and Songs (TSM server - mature)

Post by johnlewismcleod »

He stood looking down at Penlorin’s corpse in the High Hold temple. The face seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite take hold of the memory until a voice in the din drew close, “I yield! Spare her, I beg ye!”

The elf dropped his rapier and dagger and fell to his knees in supplication amongst the bodies of the five Black Lass sailors he had slain. Rugo grinned in triumph. He was perched upon her back, one hand twined in her silky blond hair; the other pressing a dagger firmly to her throat. “Ye smell sweet, me lady,” he whispered in her ear, “Methinks ye mus’ taste belike tha’ yer ‘usband would die fer ye”.

“Spare him or kill us both. I will not live without my love”. The elven maiden voice was loud and clear.

“As ye wish,” Rugo whispered in her ear. “Bind ‘im fast, me hearties!” he yelled to the Black Lass sailors who had drawn close about the dual wielding elf.

“Did you know him, hin?” a deep voice roused Rugo back to the present.

He turned and looked up at Battlepriest Sir Hylan Severen, “Nay, me laird, it…I…he”, Rugo stammered as he met Sir Hylan’s disapproving gaze.

Sir Hylan sniffed the air above Rugo’s head, “You smell like something swept out of a distillery. Does Lieutenant Pomador know you carry his badge about in such a state?” Hid frown deepened, “If you do not know the elf, you will leave the chapel….now!”

The memory returned to Rugo in a flash, “It is Penlorin, me laird. ‘E ‘elped me fallen sergernt Hashan an’ a proper crew clear out a great bugger an’ a mob o’ walkers in Rivermoot some time back.”

Rugo thought for a moment, then continued “It were me, an’ Hashan, an’ Penlorin, an’ Corio, an’ Gareth, an’ Finden, an’ Marcurs, an’ a one-eyed gnome.” He ticked them off on his shaking fingers. “Someone e’en wrote a song ‘bouts it. We were heroes, methinks.”

He looked up at Sir Hylan, suddenly unsure as the memory slipped away again. The scowl softened, “I heard that song. It was not…” he paused, “…without merit”.

Rugo blinked up at Sir Hylan, unsure if he saw a slight grin. “You may pay your respects, Rugo.” If there was a grin it was now gone, “But I will have no drinking in the chapel.” He looked pointedly at the Red Knight by the door, then promptly turned and exited into the inner corridor.

Rugo looked down and realized he was holding an open bottle of rum. He quickly corked it and returned it to his pack, then knelt over Penlorin and looked closely at his face, trying to lay claim once again to the memory of him. Instead the image of the dual wielding elf lying dead on the deck sprang forth, and the cry of his wife rang in his ears as if she were once again standing just behind him, “NOOOooooo!”

He reached out and touched Penlorin’s chest, “May the Moon Mistress guide ye ‘ome t’ Evermeet, me friend”.

He rose unsteadily and started after Sir Hylan. He caught up with him in the corridor, “Me laird, if it please ye…a word”.

The tall warrior stopped and looked back, “What is it?”

“I be seekin’ a man, me laird…may’aps ye’ve seen ‘im ‘bouts” Rugo struggled to focus and speak clearly, “’E be an adventurer an’ ‘e were t’ stop ‘ere fer supplies.”

“Many stop here for supplies. What concern is this of mine…or yours?” Sir Hylan asked impatiently, Rugo could tell he was about to turn on his heel and leave Rugo standing unanswered.

“I mus’ word wif ‘im, it be a matter o’ great urgerncy, me laird” Rugo noticed his hand was fishing in his pack for a bottle, he drew it back quickly. “’E ‘as but one ear…an’ be gruff o’ manner…a ‘uman, me laird”.

Sir Hylan’s expression hardened and Rugo could tell he had his attention. “I may know of such a man. But you did not answer me...what is your interest in him?”

“Nay mischief, me laird,“ Rugo tried not to stammer, “On me word, nay mischief…I jus’ needs be wordin’ wif ‘im”. Rugo racked his benumbed brain for something to say, anything but the truth.

“I ‘ave scouted fer Laird Whitsword, me laird, an’ Cap’n Lemuel”. Rugo pointed at his legion badge. “I be militer”

Sir Hylan crossed his arms and stared down at Rugo for a long moment, then nodded, as if to himself. “Watchknight Whitsword is well known here, as is Knightblade Ogdenstorm. They are honourable warriors and a credit to their commander.” He paused, “And I know who you are as well, Rugo, though you’ve not introduced yourself”.

Rugo blinked up at him, trying to recognize the tone of his voice, “Me apologies, me Laird,” he bowed, “Rugo, a’ yer service.”

“I am Battlepriest Sir Hylan Severen of the Red Knight”, he fixed Rugo with an unwavering stare, “Knowledge is power, Rugo. With it battlefields are mastered and mighty foes undone”.

Despite his impaired state, Rugo knew the time had come to stay silent and listen.

“Right now I have knowledge of the man you seek, “he continued unhurriedly, “But I will not part with this knowledge freely, for though it is trivial to me, it is clearly valuable to you.”

After another long pause, he asked, “What will you give me for this knowledge, Rugo…hmmm?”

Rugo blinked up at him. His hand drifted toward his purse, but as he looked up at Sir Hylan in his resplendent polished armour he knew his light purse was not what the knight had in mind. “I can scout fer ye, me laird” he offered, “E’en as I ‘ave fer the ‘elmites.”

This time Rugo was sure of the slight smile that turned at the far corners of the knight’s lips, “Indeed you can, Rugo. And you will…” another pause, “...at the time and place of my choosing”.

Rugo realized his throat had gone very dry, but forced himself not to reach for his bottle. “As ye wish, me laird” he said quietly, “E’en as ye wish”.

“Now…” Sir Hylan spoke loudly, drawing at start from Rugo, “Take you to the dungeon. Your man lies within.” With that he turned and started down the corridor.

“Me laird?” Rugo felt himself stammering, “The dungeon?”

Sir Hylan stopped, looked back, and nodded, “Aye…he’s a thief. That is where thieves belong, is it not?” He turned again and stepped smartly away.
I seek plunder....and succulent greens


[Wynna] Chula Lysander: [Talk] *Shakes head* I've been in worse situations. He was just....unjoyful! *stomps foot*


Retired PC's: Torquil, Gwenevere
Former PC's: Rugo, Flora, Rory Mor
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