Elendor
Wet, wet, wet
The small group returnng west over High Pass camps in the rain. Brev is unappreciative of his friend's efforts. And Prym makes his RP debut
Sort Date: no date set
Location: High Pass, Twisting Trail
Game Date: May 3048
IC Time: Evening
Weather: Rain
Description: High Pass, Twisting Trail
The sheer peaks of the mountains rise up on all sides around you. The pass seems almost like a maze here, with huge boulders, obscured by thick clouds, making progress more hazardous at every turn.
The night sky still dumps copious amounts of rain down, forming small creeks on the trail. The nighttime spring air is humid and clammy. The moon is above the horizon and in its waxing crescent phase.
Obvious exits:
West leads to Mountain Pass Ascent.
Northeast leads to High Pass, Western Face.
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Mon Nov 02 14:24:26 2009
IC weather is: Wind: - Clouds: moderate
IC Moon is: Not visible
IC time is: Nighttime
IC date is: Highday, Day 5 of May in the year 3048.
===============================================================================
Rain. For three days and nights it has barely ceased, and now the paths have become rivers and the hollows minature lochans. The little group of Breefolk and their Beorning guides have kept up the pace as best they may, after their encounter with orcs near the High Pass summit. Last time they were fortunate - no fatalities, and only a single injury (it seems the goblins did not include archers amongst their ranks), but there's always a next time ...
Night has fallen now, and the miserable travellers have set up a sodden camp amidst a maze of rocks whose layout looks uncomfortably purposeful. The guides are keeping watch, of course. Brev has done his best to keep up the punishing pace, even going as far as to take some herb of Saffron's that clearly mazes the mind as well as speeds the limbs. Willing or no, Gidon has been landed with the task of guiding him. Now, however, the effects of the drug are wearing off and he sits slumped on the wet ground, head resting on his knees.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon is hovering anxiously beside the Dunlending, looking at him worriedly. The rain drizzles down unendingly, and the boy glances around. "Brev," he says. "You got to get up... out of th'rain."
[Honora(#17022)] Brev isn't the only one in the camp who is miserable in the rain. Honora seems to have lost her cloak, and the usually lovely-looking girl has got dark hair plastered to her face with all the grace of a wet dog. Her boots and traveling pants are splattered with mud, leaving her looking quite a frightful sight. Still, that doesn't stop her from approaching Gidon and the Dunlending who sits on the ground. "What's going on?" the girl asks in a bossy sort of way, though it's clear from the concern in her eyes that she only wants to help if she can.
Brev's head stirs but does not lift. "Caval?" he murmurs. It is a name he has used several times in the past few days. A moment longer, and then he does look up, blinking in Gidon's direction. "Gidon," he remembers. The twist of his mouth, though strained, it clearly an attempt at a smile. "You got somewhere better?" The words are slow, perhaps slightly slurred, but careful for all that.
Honora's demand elicits a dull glance. "Nothing. Expecting a dance?" Perhaps there's a touch of his old flippancy in there.
[Nob(#16122)] "Got to be drier somewhere," Gidon persists, tugging gently at Brev's shoulder - on the good side! "Tent or something..." He looks up at Honora, not blushing at the sight of her as usual, but rather looking a little harrassed. "What's it look like?" he snaps.
[Honora(#17022)] Honora's jaw drops just a little at Brev's ungrateful response. It takes her a moment before the girl can stammer a retort of, "I...I wouldn't dance with you, not ever, even if you paid me!" She seems satisfied with that, and turns a surprised gaze on Gidon. "Gidon!" she exclaims, and then, irritably shoving her bangs back out of her face so she can better stare the two lads down, she mutters, "You're brats, you know it? The both of you!" Tempers are running high in the rain and gloom, it seems. Still, Honora lingers as though she'd still try to help get Brev up and to someplace dry after all, she's strong and capable of such, and no one else appears to be coming over to offer their aid.
"Kiern! Can't you leave me be?" Brev snaps at Gidon as reward for his concern. He resists the tug. With his right arm sling-bound and leather-wrapped, he'd struggle to rise without aid - he does not take Gidon's hand though. "Tired." His tone is sullen.
Honora's retort seemingly banishes his ill-will. At her snapping he lets out a weary bark of laughter. "Sorry. Don't pay for company. Prefer my girls willing." Again his mouth twists in that half-hearted attempt at a smile, before he looks back to Gidon.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks slightly abashed at Honor's rejoinder, but he sets his jaw stubbornly. "Got to get him somewhere dry," he tells her, half-conciliatory, half-pugnaciously. "C'mon, Brev..." But at the man's snarl, he whitens, and jerks his hand away. "You got t'get somewhere dry," he repeats stubbornly, his eyes avoiding the Dunlending's.
[Honora(#17022)] Brev's words make Honora blush furiously despite the cold and rain. "Well, you certainly aren't shy about things, are you?" the proper girl huffs. "Don't know what girl would want you with that attitude, though," she tells the Dunlending man. She simply looks on as Gidon tries to coax Brev into rising, and when his attempt fails, Honora promptly sits herself down in the mud beside Brev. "Feel like sitting?" she asks Gidon, looking back up to him. "We can't leave him miserable -and- alone just because he won't move," she points out. "Of course," she adds, eyeing Brev again, "No girl will want you when you're dead of a chill, either. None of the sane ones, anyway." There's that airy and flippant tone to her voice once more.
Brev's undamaged shoulder twitches. "Don't see anywhere dry." Not that he's looking his head starts to slump again and he jerks it up with an effort.
He's clearly not really listening to Honora when she plumps herself down beside him, he blinks, though, and stares glazedly at her. "Saying you'd want me if I wasn't?" This time he sounds more puzzled than flippant verbal sparring skills seem to be failing him.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon pinches his lips together and breathes out exasperated. There is still a shadow of hurt in his eyes, but he tries to push it down. Looking around, rain dripping down his cloak and into his eyes, he spies a bit of tarp and slogs over to claim it.
[Honora(#17022)] "Want- what?" Honora gasps, her cheeks burning much brighter this time. "I didn't say that!" she quickly exclaims, looking aghast at the thought. "I've never even spoken to you before today!" For a moment, it looks as though her inclination is to slap the Dunlending- however, he is injured and drugged, and sitting in mud, so Honora simply sits on her hands and squashes the urge. "You're really rude and horrible, and when you're feeling better, I'm going to remind you of it every day, you know." Honora watches as Gidon moves over to a tarp. "You don't want to follow Gidon and keep your stupid head from getting wetter?"
Brev's head turns as Gidon moves away. "What did I say?" he asks the air at large. The words might as well refer to Honora's outburst, for at he blinks and murmurs agreeably, "Sure." The speech has set alarm bells ringing, however after a moment his features twist in a scowl. "Kiern! Haven't spilled anything .. uh, compromising, have I?" He sounds genuinely worried. "Damn Saffron and her damn herbs." Oh yes, curse the long-absent rather than himself.
Honora's final suggestion is met with a half-hearted attempt to rise he places his left hand in the mud and levers himself up onto one knee.
[Nob(#16122)] The Bree boy is squatting, yanking the tarp from underneath something where corners have been tucked in. Whatever it is that is being covered by it isn't going to be much longer, if he has anything to say about it. One final pull and it comes free, sending Gidon sprawling onto his back in the mud.
He carefully avoids looking at either Honora or Brev, his face bright red, and picks himself up, trying one-handedly to tie the tarp to an overhanging still-leafless branch.
[Honora(#17022)] Honora doesn't miss Gidon's bright red face, but at least she doesn't run a commentary on that: she's much too sympathetic to such a plight, having been made to blush so many times today already. "You shouldn't curse it sounds ugly," Honora quips at the Dunlending, even as she reaches out a helping hand. "Don't you dare be rude to me like you were to Gidon- I'm going to help you up," she tells him with determination. "Grab hold," she encourages, hand still extended, "I can't get more dirty and these clothes can't get any more ruined, anyways."
The splash of Gidon's tumble halts Brev in place. "All right?" he asks, twisting round, without the irritation of earlier. "Take it easy, I'm not worth it." His tone is dry.
"That's why I do it," he tells Honora, reaching out to grab the proffered hand. Though tall, he is not a heavy-weight as he pushes himself up his foot slips in the mud, though, and he yanks at the Bree-girl for balance.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon is unable to lift his left hand high enough to tie a knot, and the frustration of trying is turning his face still redder. Finally, he throws the tarp down, kicks it, and stands there in the rain, breathing heavily.
After a minute, the Bree boy squats down, and picks it up again, and stands there with it in his hand, looking around for something more possible.
[Honora(#17022)] Honora teeters unsteadily on her feet when Brev grabs her for balance, despite his not being too heavy. She grabs onto his good shoulder for support, to try to keep herself from falling, too. Once balanced, she nods toward the tarp, "Why don't we go over there with Gidon?" she asks, a little breathless from the threat of slipping into the mud again. Her eyes narrow as she looks toward Brev, and she can't resist another verbal assault. "Did you know you're -really- annoying?" she asks him, caught between trying to frown at him and fighting the urge to smile.
Brev lets out a hiss of breath as his good shoulder is grabbed, but manages to maintain his balance as Honora had hers. He blinks at the accusation, then lets out a dull bark of laughter. "Thanks. Sounds like I've been doing something right, then." At the suggestion he releases her hand, balancing on his own. Tired and injured as he is, he only sways a little. "Why don't you actually /help/ him with it? Some things are easier with two." He tactfully avoids mention of arm injuries.
[Nob(#16122)] The boy has found a crooked stick that he pokes through a hole in one corner of the canvas, wedging the stick into the ground at an angle. It stands, the tarp sagging from it limply, and he looks around for another.
[Honora(#17022)] "How did you know I wasn't going to do just that? You ought to watch what you tell people to do," Honora says- she's just full of advice today, it seems, from a girl who is often known as quiet! Still, she walks beside Brev in case he stumbles, and as they make their way toward the tarp, she calls out ahead, "Gidon! Do you want some help with that?"
[Nob(#16122)] The boy has found a crooked stick that he pokes through a hole in one corner of the canvas, wedging the stick into the ground at an angle. It stands, the tarp sagging from it limply, and he looks around for another. (re)
Brev grunts at Honora's advice. "Why? You don't ask, you don't get."
Hard on the heels of Honora's offer, he adds to Gidon, "I'd offer - 'cept I don't think I can stand that long." His speech is starting to slur again, and he's swaying a little he's clearly exhausted.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks up from where he has wandered a little ways away from the forlorn little tarp on stick and visibly holds back a sharp answer. "Yes," he says shortly, and looks worriedly at Brev. "Sit down," he urges him. "We can put it up over you."
Prym is standing off to one side with his horse and cart. Both Horse and Master look tired - the former from the journey, the latter from what preceeded it. The man himself is of non-descript height, say 6 foot or thereabouts. His hair is a sooty black, and is ruffled and shaggy, cut just above his neckline. He wears a full beard and looks to be a generally hairy man. He has broad shoulders and is solidly built. The items in his cart - the heavily wrapped anvil and blacksmith tools - show this for what it is. He gently finishes brushing out the mare's hair and replaces the brush in the cart. Returning to the mare he pats her on the neck and gently whispers comforting nothings into her ear before moving away. He moves towards the campfire and gives a quick glance over his travelling partners and their own state of exhaustion. He quietly sits himself down on the outside edges of the circle, picking up his drinking flask and taking a small sip. He pulls his knees up and rests his wrists on them, idly drinking in the night scene - the dreary rain, the pitiful fire and the exhausted people. A small grunt of amusement escapes him as he catches his maudline outlook, and he returns his gaze to the events at the campfire, wondering if anything of interest is occuring.
Brev stares dubiously at the sagging piece of tarpaulin. "Looks like a shroud," he mutters darkly, but tiredness is taking its toll and he staggers over to a nearby boulder so he can ease himself down against it. "Ach. Moved once - not doing it again," he murmurs sourly to Gidon, glancing dully round the camp. His gaze passes blankly over the moving form of the blacksmith. "Wake me if the goblins come." That injunction given, he lowers his chin back to his chest and drops into an exhausted semi-doze, oblivious to drenching rain, flapping tarpaulin and concerned companions alike.
[Honora(#17022)] Honora gives Brev another flippant look, though he doesn't see this one since he seems to have dozed off. "Oh, Gidon.." Honora sighs. "I don't like him one bit!" The words suggest, of course, that the truth is quite the contrary. "Gidon, how would you like something to eat?" The girl wonders suddenly, when her stomach reminds her it's been several hours since her last meal. "I'll bring back whatever I can find," she promises, and then Honora dashes right back out into the steady, driving rain.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon watches after her with even great frustration and exasperation. "Girls"! he says, in tones of loathing. And then he returns to struggling with the second pole. His left arm seems somehow to not work like the right.
Prym watches the exchange between the three of his travelling companions and allows a small smile to touch at his lips. Seeing the young lad struggling, Prym hefts himself to his feet and moves slowly and unobtrusively over. "Need a hand, kid?" he asks in a quiet but pleasent tone.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks up with relief. "Yes, please," he says. "M'tryin' t'make a bit of a tent he's hurt, y'see." He gestures at Brev, gazing at him worriedly.
Prym glances over at the indicated Dunlander and nods. "Yeah, he's seen better days, that's for sure" He mutters. Turning back to the "tent" Gidon is trying to make, he grunts a little. "Well, we ain't goin to be making much of a tent outta this stuff." He picks up the tattered cloth and holds it up in emphasis, one eyebrow raised. "Tell ya what, gimme a moment and I'll check what av got in the cart, see'f we can't make summat a little cosier for him, eh?"
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon has returned to trying to tie a knot one-handed, but he stops at Prym's suggestion. "Would you?" he asks. "That would be great." He looks ruefully at his makeshift shelter. "I ain't doin' so great like this."
Prym gives a small smile and nods. "Sure kid. I'll be right back." With a grunt he pushes himself to his feet and moves over to his cart, patting and comforting his mare on the way. He flips back the tarp on the cart and begins to rummage through the stuff there.
[Owain(#32501)]
A man is making his way from the eastern trail in the shadows. Owain. Gidon's father. He is quiet and seems to be in no rush, but he moves toward Gidon and Prym, an arrow fitted to his bow but lowered.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon squats down, pulling the edge of the canvas tarp over Brev's shoulders and holding it there while he waits. He doesn't seem to mind the rain that drips down his own cloak. A flicker of movement brings his eyes to his father, and he lifts an arm wearily.
Prym finishes pulling a long roll of spare tarpaulin and rope from the cart and slings it over his shoulder. He also grabs some wooden staves, before flickin the main tarpaulin back over the cart. Hefting his load, he begins to move back over towards Gidon and the unconcious Brev. He notices the new arrival and slows in his step, a frown crossing his face. He takes note of the notched arrow, before hurrying his pace somewhat to move next to Gidon's side. He slowly places his goods on the ground whilst looking at the man. "You know that fella?" He mutters to Gidon.
[Owain(#32501)]
"How's he holding up?" The cloaked Owain asks when he gets closer, his calm, quiet voice barely carrying through the rain.
[Nob(#16122)] "S'm'da," Gidon says. He stands up, and smiles at the pile of things Prym has brought. "Nough for a proper tent!" he says admiringly. As Owain nears, he looks over at him. "Alright. Wore out, I think."
Prym raises an eyebrow at Gidon's reply, before shrugging to himself. "Fair enough." He begins unrolling the tarp that he brought and as Owain steps nearer and inquires about the wellbeing of Brev, he stretches himself up and offers out his hand in greeting. "Name's Prym, but ya cn call me Blacksmith if ya want, most people do...or rather did back in Dale. S'good to meet ya."
[Owain(#32501)]
The newcomer nods at Prym and offers succintly, "Owain." He looks over at Gidon. "Y'need help?" A moment later, he looks back to Prym. "Dale? Th'way's blocked there."
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon reaches out for the other end of the tarp as Prym begins to unroll it. He looks diffidently at the smith, and says to Owain, "Makin' bit of a tent. Better ask'm." He nods towards Prym. "His stuff."
Prym retracts his proferred hand and rolls his tongue quickly along the inside of his cheek at the slight, but clearly chooses to make nothing of it with a little shrug to himself. He turns back to unfolding the tarp with Gidon. He winces a little at Owain's comment about Dale, and chooses to ignore it initially, instead answering the offer for help. "Ya cn help set the poles up for tha tarp if ya want." He says, hefting some up and offering them to Owain. He sighs as he does so, before quietly saying "I know th'ways's blocked. I was barely half a day out of the city gates 'fore the news caught up with me about the attack. Knew there weren't much I coulda done cept maybe get myself killed, so I kept on going like everyone else. Met up with this lot a couple of days down the Mirkwood road and been travelling with them since. On my way back to Bree to set up shop. Start afresh. Get away from it all." His tone is somewhat maudline, and his thoughts are clearly distant.
[Owain(#32501)]
"I mighta done something like that for a bit in Dale, but Bree is better." Owain nods. His deep and slow voice comes again. "I'll check th'west path an' be back t'help." He moves along west as he says, and evening shadows and rain soon swallow him.
The sheer peaks of the mountains rise up on all sides around you. The pass seems almost like a maze here, with huge boulders, obscured by thick clouds, making progress more hazardous at every turn.
The night sky still dumps copious amounts of rain down, forming small creeks on the trail. The nighttime spring air is humid and clammy. The moon is above the horizon and in its waxing crescent phase.
Obvious exits:
West leads to Mountain Pass Ascent.
Northeast leads to High Pass, Western Face.
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Mon Nov 02 14:24:26 2009
IC weather is: Wind: - Clouds: moderate
IC Moon is: Not visible
IC time is: Nighttime
IC date is: Highday, Day 5 of May in the year 3048.
===============================================================================
Rain. For three days and nights it has barely ceased, and now the paths have become rivers and the hollows minature lochans. The little group of Breefolk and their Beorning guides have kept up the pace as best they may, after their encounter with orcs near the High Pass summit. Last time they were fortunate - no fatalities, and only a single injury (it seems the goblins did not include archers amongst their ranks), but there's always a next time ...
Night has fallen now, and the miserable travellers have set up a sodden camp amidst a maze of rocks whose layout looks uncomfortably purposeful. The guides are keeping watch, of course. Brev has done his best to keep up the punishing pace, even going as far as to take some herb of Saffron's that clearly mazes the mind as well as speeds the limbs. Willing or no, Gidon has been landed with the task of guiding him. Now, however, the effects of the drug are wearing off and he sits slumped on the wet ground, head resting on his knees.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon is hovering anxiously beside the Dunlending, looking at him worriedly. The rain drizzles down unendingly, and the boy glances around. "Brev," he says. "You got to get up... out of th'rain."
[Honora(#17022)] Brev isn't the only one in the camp who is miserable in the rain. Honora seems to have lost her cloak, and the usually lovely-looking girl has got dark hair plastered to her face with all the grace of a wet dog. Her boots and traveling pants are splattered with mud, leaving her looking quite a frightful sight. Still, that doesn't stop her from approaching Gidon and the Dunlending who sits on the ground. "What's going on?" the girl asks in a bossy sort of way, though it's clear from the concern in her eyes that she only wants to help if she can.
Brev's head stirs but does not lift. "Caval?" he murmurs. It is a name he has used several times in the past few days. A moment longer, and then he does look up, blinking in Gidon's direction. "Gidon," he remembers. The twist of his mouth, though strained, it clearly an attempt at a smile. "You got somewhere better?" The words are slow, perhaps slightly slurred, but careful for all that.
Honora's demand elicits a dull glance. "Nothing. Expecting a dance?" Perhaps there's a touch of his old flippancy in there.
[Nob(#16122)] "Got to be drier somewhere," Gidon persists, tugging gently at Brev's shoulder - on the good side! "Tent or something..." He looks up at Honora, not blushing at the sight of her as usual, but rather looking a little harrassed. "What's it look like?" he snaps.
[Honora(#17022)] Honora's jaw drops just a little at Brev's ungrateful response. It takes her a moment before the girl can stammer a retort of, "I...I wouldn't dance with you, not ever, even if you paid me!" She seems satisfied with that, and turns a surprised gaze on Gidon. "Gidon!" she exclaims, and then, irritably shoving her bangs back out of her face so she can better stare the two lads down, she mutters, "You're brats, you know it? The both of you!" Tempers are running high in the rain and gloom, it seems. Still, Honora lingers as though she'd still try to help get Brev up and to someplace dry after all, she's strong and capable of such, and no one else appears to be coming over to offer their aid.
"Kiern! Can't you leave me be?" Brev snaps at Gidon as reward for his concern. He resists the tug. With his right arm sling-bound and leather-wrapped, he'd struggle to rise without aid - he does not take Gidon's hand though. "Tired." His tone is sullen.
Honora's retort seemingly banishes his ill-will. At her snapping he lets out a weary bark of laughter. "Sorry. Don't pay for company. Prefer my girls willing." Again his mouth twists in that half-hearted attempt at a smile, before he looks back to Gidon.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks slightly abashed at Honor's rejoinder, but he sets his jaw stubbornly. "Got to get him somewhere dry," he tells her, half-conciliatory, half-pugnaciously. "C'mon, Brev..." But at the man's snarl, he whitens, and jerks his hand away. "You got t'get somewhere dry," he repeats stubbornly, his eyes avoiding the Dunlending's.
[Honora(#17022)] Brev's words make Honora blush furiously despite the cold and rain. "Well, you certainly aren't shy about things, are you?" the proper girl huffs. "Don't know what girl would want you with that attitude, though," she tells the Dunlending man. She simply looks on as Gidon tries to coax Brev into rising, and when his attempt fails, Honora promptly sits herself down in the mud beside Brev. "Feel like sitting?" she asks Gidon, looking back up to him. "We can't leave him miserable -and- alone just because he won't move," she points out. "Of course," she adds, eyeing Brev again, "No girl will want you when you're dead of a chill, either. None of the sane ones, anyway." There's that airy and flippant tone to her voice once more.
Brev's undamaged shoulder twitches. "Don't see anywhere dry." Not that he's looking his head starts to slump again and he jerks it up with an effort.
He's clearly not really listening to Honora when she plumps herself down beside him, he blinks, though, and stares glazedly at her. "Saying you'd want me if I wasn't?" This time he sounds more puzzled than flippant verbal sparring skills seem to be failing him.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon pinches his lips together and breathes out exasperated. There is still a shadow of hurt in his eyes, but he tries to push it down. Looking around, rain dripping down his cloak and into his eyes, he spies a bit of tarp and slogs over to claim it.
[Honora(#17022)] "Want- what?" Honora gasps, her cheeks burning much brighter this time. "I didn't say that!" she quickly exclaims, looking aghast at the thought. "I've never even spoken to you before today!" For a moment, it looks as though her inclination is to slap the Dunlending- however, he is injured and drugged, and sitting in mud, so Honora simply sits on her hands and squashes the urge. "You're really rude and horrible, and when you're feeling better, I'm going to remind you of it every day, you know." Honora watches as Gidon moves over to a tarp. "You don't want to follow Gidon and keep your stupid head from getting wetter?"
Brev's head turns as Gidon moves away. "What did I say?" he asks the air at large. The words might as well refer to Honora's outburst, for at he blinks and murmurs agreeably, "Sure." The speech has set alarm bells ringing, however after a moment his features twist in a scowl. "Kiern! Haven't spilled anything .. uh, compromising, have I?" He sounds genuinely worried. "Damn Saffron and her damn herbs." Oh yes, curse the long-absent rather than himself.
Honora's final suggestion is met with a half-hearted attempt to rise he places his left hand in the mud and levers himself up onto one knee.
[Nob(#16122)] The Bree boy is squatting, yanking the tarp from underneath something where corners have been tucked in. Whatever it is that is being covered by it isn't going to be much longer, if he has anything to say about it. One final pull and it comes free, sending Gidon sprawling onto his back in the mud.
He carefully avoids looking at either Honora or Brev, his face bright red, and picks himself up, trying one-handedly to tie the tarp to an overhanging still-leafless branch.
[Honora(#17022)] Honora doesn't miss Gidon's bright red face, but at least she doesn't run a commentary on that: she's much too sympathetic to such a plight, having been made to blush so many times today already. "You shouldn't curse it sounds ugly," Honora quips at the Dunlending, even as she reaches out a helping hand. "Don't you dare be rude to me like you were to Gidon- I'm going to help you up," she tells him with determination. "Grab hold," she encourages, hand still extended, "I can't get more dirty and these clothes can't get any more ruined, anyways."
The splash of Gidon's tumble halts Brev in place. "All right?" he asks, twisting round, without the irritation of earlier. "Take it easy, I'm not worth it." His tone is dry.
"That's why I do it," he tells Honora, reaching out to grab the proffered hand. Though tall, he is not a heavy-weight as he pushes himself up his foot slips in the mud, though, and he yanks at the Bree-girl for balance.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon is unable to lift his left hand high enough to tie a knot, and the frustration of trying is turning his face still redder. Finally, he throws the tarp down, kicks it, and stands there in the rain, breathing heavily.
After a minute, the Bree boy squats down, and picks it up again, and stands there with it in his hand, looking around for something more possible.
[Honora(#17022)] Honora teeters unsteadily on her feet when Brev grabs her for balance, despite his not being too heavy. She grabs onto his good shoulder for support, to try to keep herself from falling, too. Once balanced, she nods toward the tarp, "Why don't we go over there with Gidon?" she asks, a little breathless from the threat of slipping into the mud again. Her eyes narrow as she looks toward Brev, and she can't resist another verbal assault. "Did you know you're -really- annoying?" she asks him, caught between trying to frown at him and fighting the urge to smile.
Brev lets out a hiss of breath as his good shoulder is grabbed, but manages to maintain his balance as Honora had hers. He blinks at the accusation, then lets out a dull bark of laughter. "Thanks. Sounds like I've been doing something right, then." At the suggestion he releases her hand, balancing on his own. Tired and injured as he is, he only sways a little. "Why don't you actually /help/ him with it? Some things are easier with two." He tactfully avoids mention of arm injuries.
[Nob(#16122)] The boy has found a crooked stick that he pokes through a hole in one corner of the canvas, wedging the stick into the ground at an angle. It stands, the tarp sagging from it limply, and he looks around for another.
[Honora(#17022)] "How did you know I wasn't going to do just that? You ought to watch what you tell people to do," Honora says- she's just full of advice today, it seems, from a girl who is often known as quiet! Still, she walks beside Brev in case he stumbles, and as they make their way toward the tarp, she calls out ahead, "Gidon! Do you want some help with that?"
[Nob(#16122)] The boy has found a crooked stick that he pokes through a hole in one corner of the canvas, wedging the stick into the ground at an angle. It stands, the tarp sagging from it limply, and he looks around for another. (re)
Brev grunts at Honora's advice. "Why? You don't ask, you don't get."
Hard on the heels of Honora's offer, he adds to Gidon, "I'd offer - 'cept I don't think I can stand that long." His speech is starting to slur again, and he's swaying a little he's clearly exhausted.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks up from where he has wandered a little ways away from the forlorn little tarp on stick and visibly holds back a sharp answer. "Yes," he says shortly, and looks worriedly at Brev. "Sit down," he urges him. "We can put it up over you."
Prym is standing off to one side with his horse and cart. Both Horse and Master look tired - the former from the journey, the latter from what preceeded it. The man himself is of non-descript height, say 6 foot or thereabouts. His hair is a sooty black, and is ruffled and shaggy, cut just above his neckline. He wears a full beard and looks to be a generally hairy man. He has broad shoulders and is solidly built. The items in his cart - the heavily wrapped anvil and blacksmith tools - show this for what it is. He gently finishes brushing out the mare's hair and replaces the brush in the cart. Returning to the mare he pats her on the neck and gently whispers comforting nothings into her ear before moving away. He moves towards the campfire and gives a quick glance over his travelling partners and their own state of exhaustion. He quietly sits himself down on the outside edges of the circle, picking up his drinking flask and taking a small sip. He pulls his knees up and rests his wrists on them, idly drinking in the night scene - the dreary rain, the pitiful fire and the exhausted people. A small grunt of amusement escapes him as he catches his maudline outlook, and he returns his gaze to the events at the campfire, wondering if anything of interest is occuring.
Brev stares dubiously at the sagging piece of tarpaulin. "Looks like a shroud," he mutters darkly, but tiredness is taking its toll and he staggers over to a nearby boulder so he can ease himself down against it. "Ach. Moved once - not doing it again," he murmurs sourly to Gidon, glancing dully round the camp. His gaze passes blankly over the moving form of the blacksmith. "Wake me if the goblins come." That injunction given, he lowers his chin back to his chest and drops into an exhausted semi-doze, oblivious to drenching rain, flapping tarpaulin and concerned companions alike.
[Honora(#17022)] Honora gives Brev another flippant look, though he doesn't see this one since he seems to have dozed off. "Oh, Gidon.." Honora sighs. "I don't like him one bit!" The words suggest, of course, that the truth is quite the contrary. "Gidon, how would you like something to eat?" The girl wonders suddenly, when her stomach reminds her it's been several hours since her last meal. "I'll bring back whatever I can find," she promises, and then Honora dashes right back out into the steady, driving rain.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon watches after her with even great frustration and exasperation. "Girls"! he says, in tones of loathing. And then he returns to struggling with the second pole. His left arm seems somehow to not work like the right.
Prym watches the exchange between the three of his travelling companions and allows a small smile to touch at his lips. Seeing the young lad struggling, Prym hefts himself to his feet and moves slowly and unobtrusively over. "Need a hand, kid?" he asks in a quiet but pleasent tone.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon looks up with relief. "Yes, please," he says. "M'tryin' t'make a bit of a tent he's hurt, y'see." He gestures at Brev, gazing at him worriedly.
Prym glances over at the indicated Dunlander and nods. "Yeah, he's seen better days, that's for sure" He mutters. Turning back to the "tent" Gidon is trying to make, he grunts a little. "Well, we ain't goin to be making much of a tent outta this stuff." He picks up the tattered cloth and holds it up in emphasis, one eyebrow raised. "Tell ya what, gimme a moment and I'll check what av got in the cart, see'f we can't make summat a little cosier for him, eh?"
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon has returned to trying to tie a knot one-handed, but he stops at Prym's suggestion. "Would you?" he asks. "That would be great." He looks ruefully at his makeshift shelter. "I ain't doin' so great like this."
Prym gives a small smile and nods. "Sure kid. I'll be right back." With a grunt he pushes himself to his feet and moves over to his cart, patting and comforting his mare on the way. He flips back the tarp on the cart and begins to rummage through the stuff there.
[Owain(#32501)]
A man is making his way from the eastern trail in the shadows. Owain. Gidon's father. He is quiet and seems to be in no rush, but he moves toward Gidon and Prym, an arrow fitted to his bow but lowered.
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon squats down, pulling the edge of the canvas tarp over Brev's shoulders and holding it there while he waits. He doesn't seem to mind the rain that drips down his own cloak. A flicker of movement brings his eyes to his father, and he lifts an arm wearily.
Prym finishes pulling a long roll of spare tarpaulin and rope from the cart and slings it over his shoulder. He also grabs some wooden staves, before flickin the main tarpaulin back over the cart. Hefting his load, he begins to move back over towards Gidon and the unconcious Brev. He notices the new arrival and slows in his step, a frown crossing his face. He takes note of the notched arrow, before hurrying his pace somewhat to move next to Gidon's side. He slowly places his goods on the ground whilst looking at the man. "You know that fella?" He mutters to Gidon.
[Owain(#32501)]
"How's he holding up?" The cloaked Owain asks when he gets closer, his calm, quiet voice barely carrying through the rain.
[Nob(#16122)] "S'm'da," Gidon says. He stands up, and smiles at the pile of things Prym has brought. "Nough for a proper tent!" he says admiringly. As Owain nears, he looks over at him. "Alright. Wore out, I think."
Prym raises an eyebrow at Gidon's reply, before shrugging to himself. "Fair enough." He begins unrolling the tarp that he brought and as Owain steps nearer and inquires about the wellbeing of Brev, he stretches himself up and offers out his hand in greeting. "Name's Prym, but ya cn call me Blacksmith if ya want, most people do...or rather did back in Dale. S'good to meet ya."
[Owain(#32501)]
The newcomer nods at Prym and offers succintly, "Owain." He looks over at Gidon. "Y'need help?" A moment later, he looks back to Prym. "Dale? Th'way's blocked there."
[Nob(#16122)] Gidon reaches out for the other end of the tarp as Prym begins to unroll it. He looks diffidently at the smith, and says to Owain, "Makin' bit of a tent. Better ask'm." He nods towards Prym. "His stuff."
Prym retracts his proferred hand and rolls his tongue quickly along the inside of his cheek at the slight, but clearly chooses to make nothing of it with a little shrug to himself. He turns back to unfolding the tarp with Gidon. He winces a little at Owain's comment about Dale, and chooses to ignore it initially, instead answering the offer for help. "Ya cn help set the poles up for tha tarp if ya want." He says, hefting some up and offering them to Owain. He sighs as he does so, before quietly saying "I know th'ways's blocked. I was barely half a day out of the city gates 'fore the news caught up with me about the attack. Knew there weren't much I coulda done cept maybe get myself killed, so I kept on going like everyone else. Met up with this lot a couple of days down the Mirkwood road and been travelling with them since. On my way back to Bree to set up shop. Start afresh. Get away from it all." His tone is somewhat maudline, and his thoughts are clearly distant.
[Owain(#32501)]
"I mighta done something like that for a bit in Dale, but Bree is better." Owain nods. His deep and slow voice comes again. "I'll check th'west path an' be back t'help." He moves along west as he says, and evening shadows and rain soon swallow him.
Players: Brev, Gidon, Honora, Prym, Owain
Located in: Dunlending | Breefolk
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