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Lordling (Terryn)

Lorsh

Lorsh

Varlot
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)
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  • You are Artos Terryn, Lord of Terryn Castle and a knight of the realm. Your family are vassals of the Tuwold Barony.

    You come from a recently ennobled family that is popular with the commons of the region. Your family has also had some influence on the residents of the Norwood Freehold, an autonomous community of foresters and descendants of the region's early woods-tribes. Your predecessors had convinced some of the farmers to move north, leading to the foundation of Norwood Vill, who have since become loyal Terryn subjects.

    Norwood Freehold remains less than a day's walk away from your holdings. There is not much farmland, so the settlement essentially takes free reign of the forests. The poaching has, at times, led to noble hunting parties from House Strongwood     (the Stromwood cadets out of Gremotte) lynching Norwoodsmen. Before you were born, Strongwood men-at-arms attacked the freehold itself, and the arising territorial dispute nearly escalated to a small feudal war between Terryn and Strongwood.

    Your main landholdings are Meadowton, Stonesfield and the aforementioned Norwood Vill. Meadowton mainly produces meat and wool from its sheepfolds. Stonesfield has stonecutters and roving quarrymen working among the lowland boulder fields, along with many vegetable gardens. A past Terryn commissioned the construction of proper stone roads between all his domains, even Norwood Freehold.

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    Most of the corn and other grain comes from Norwood Vill, which has hamlets and plots extending out towards the hills near Cotarhill Castle. Though much of the lordship's food comes from them, there are times when it isn't enough to feed everyone in the domains. When you were a very young child, the village of Oak Motte was abandoned when there was a particularly bad harvest which led to starvation. These years, whenever there isn't quite enough to comfortably feed everyone, Terryn subjects gravitate to the 'freeholders' for poached game, or ask their lord's consent to make a journey to buy foodstuffs from Howesbury. This incidences are becoming rarer due to your father's efforts to implement proper crop rotation in Norwood Vill.

    As for your personal residence, Terryn Castle is a small stone castle staffed by servants who mainly live and work out of the hovels and wooden lodge built outside the walls. Your servants and household soldiers farm the surrounding area, with most land being owned by the most trusted commoners that came to serve your family as serjeants. One of these men is Garrens, the grizzled captain of the guard. In addition to him, your are counselled by your steward and uncle, Sir Fulco Terryn, and Anna, one of the Motherly Clerics.

    It is an early morning at the castle. Shortly after the rooster crows, one of your young servants appears before you. "My lord," he begins. "There is a group of freeholders here to see you. They have something... very strange."



 
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(Italics will be internal thoughts)

Sweat beads and glides down the forehead of Artos Terryn as his body moves up and down from a lying position to a sitting position. His arms are bent behind him, hands resting on the back of his head. The only clothes on his body are that of his undergarments. His body glistens. He has been at it for nearly thirty minutes. Working his muscles is an "essential" part of his morning routine. Usually, this routine is followed by a cool bath, and afterwards, he proceeds with the daily agendas. He flips his body so that he is facing the ground, arms holding him up. He presses himself down and pushes himself up, repeatedly. Sweat drips onto the slick stone floor.

His focus breaks at the sound of knocking at his door. And which one of the bumpkins thought it would be a good idea to interrupt my morning rituals? Artos lifts himself off of the floor and steps carefully to the door, creaking it open. A servant stands on the other side.

"My lord," he begins. "There is a group of freeholders here to see you. They have something... very strange."

The poacher bastards to the south? Now what is it they want?

"Very well. I will give them audience, shortly." he turns to move away, but stops, "Make sure that their needs are properly met. Offer them drinks and perhaps a bite, for they may be weary from their travels." He allows the servant to acknowledge his request, then closes the door.

Offering my ale and my bread to mere forest bandits... Tch, whatever they have better be worth my time.

Artos moves to an adjoining room, one much smaller than his bedchamber. There, he already has his bathwater prepared. He has his servants carry up water every morning prior to his workouts. He removes his undergarments and steps into the tub.

Some time later...

For today, he has decided to wear a black tunic containing his family's crest in the center. He grabs his belt, sheath attached, and wraps it around his waist. He then grabs his ancestral sword, a falchion engraved with "Terryn" on the hilt, and slides it into the sheath. He double checks himself to make sure that he isn't forgetting anything: patting himself, giving himself a second look, running his hands through his curly blonde hair, etc. After concluding with this, he leaves his bedchamber, marching towards the hall to make audience with the freeholders.
 
The servant nods, bowing to his lord before hurrying off to make the necessary preparations.

After your bathing is finished, you make your way to the great hall, hearing the sound of heavy discussion ahead. Two young forest men are seated at the commons table, having already eaten a few machet biscuits, with their beer mugs already mostly drained. Butler (one of your servants who lived up to his last name's origins) was speaking to the largest of the foresters, a tall and slightly heavyset man with a scruffy gray beard and a flowing cloak of brown hide. In one hand, he holds a... slowly-writhing bag. The sackcloth is thick enough for blood to not drip onto the floor, but it does look quite red in certain parts.

Those present in the hall all turn towards you, upon your entry. "Yer lordship," the large forester bows. He looks at the sack, then back at you, momentarily embarrassed. "Aye, aye, let me explain. Me and my sons, we come come from Norwood, and the beasts don't bloody die anymore, aye?" He looks at the boys at the table, who give him quick nods. It was not proper to swear in a lord's hall, though this man either did not know, or felt the emphasis was necessary. He looks back to you seriously. "I swears it; all the Norwood folk know it true. The deer rise back up, yet they be half-gutted, and go home!" He holds up the sack. "These 'ere rabbits from the freehold's warren, they been like this for hours. Squirmin', and their necks are proper broke. One is even bloody well skinned!"

Butler looks very uneasy... but it appears he may have been shown the bloody sack's contents beforehand, for he nods very slowly at you.
 
Artos strolls into the great hall, immediately eyeing up his guests, then the damage: what they've eaten and drank, then... something most unexpected. The blood soaked bag in the foresters' possession. That last part causes Artos to pause momentarily, not out of fear, but more of distasteful confusion. Even more, the bag wiggles ever so slightly, indicating that its contents are living... bloody and living. What kind of ritualistic devilry have these uncivilized men brought before me...? And for what reason...? He looks back to the men, making eye contact with the larger of the two.

He listens to the man's explanation and concerns. This has to be the most bizarre thing that Artos has ever heard, as he raises his brow, perplexed. The contents of the message has Artos baffled enough as is, so the swear is completely overlooked, not that Artos would personally care anyways. Artos's eyes move back to the sack, after the man mentions the contents. When the man is finished, Artos turns and looks at Butler, still not sure if this is some sick joke or actually a serious matter. When he sees the look on Butler's face, he knows that they have him sold.

"This is certainly not what I was expecting..." he says, smirking a little and pacing slowly across the hall, "a most unusual matter, indeed." He stops again, thinking. The dead rise, according to these dimwits. If this is true, this would be most troublesome... My people would lose their minds and panic! That would do me no good. I guess I will have to allow them to show me. And if this is a joke... it would take the heavens to save these men.

"I will require a demonstration," Artos demands, "I must see with my own eyes." He steps towards the table in which the Norwood men reside, and rests his boot on the bench across from them. "I need to see what we are dealing with so that I can properly decide... the necessary actions."

As he waits on the two to present the contents, he asks a question. "And how long has this issue been occurring?"
 
The forester draws in a hoarse breath after your request for proof. "Beggin' your pardon, about the floor, Lord," he says. The man upends the sack, and lets the rabbits spill onto the ground. All of them are moving, yet they are in... very sorry shape. Three plump, brown ones with white spots all clearly have broken necks, yet they keep awkwardly twisting about, legs kicking, making a bit of a low... 'screaming' sound, as rabbits do, except it's slower, and lazier, and odder. The fourth rabbit is the most queer. It lacks fur, merely showing veins and muscle, yet it continues to move. It's obvious that the blood has dried some time ago.

"That be no twitchin'," the forester claims, leveling his calloused finger at the demonic, writhing things on your floor. Butler nearly wretches, and his hand falls to the hilt of his dagger. "We proper noticed it last night... but there were strange goings-on, even a sennight ago," the freeholder mentions. The weather has been blackish and gloomy lately, which is typically a sign of a bad omen among the villfolk.
 
Well, I guess that settles that this wasn't a joke after all. Now I've actually got something rather difficult to deal with. What a pain. But on the other hand, how is it possible for something like this to exist?

Artos inspects the creatures, walking lightly around the writhing corpses. He appears intrigued with them, much like that of a boy amazed with seeing an arrow loosed for the first time. He dare not touch the creatures, only examine them.

"I see," he says, almost in a whisper, "well, it was the right thing for you to come as soon as you did."

He draws his sword from its sheath and quickly stabs one of the creatures, clearly trying to see what would happen. He eyes the creature intently for a moment. Regardless of the outcome, he looks to Butler.

"Summon my council," commands Artos, "tell them that their presence is required at the hall, that important matters are to be discussed and decisions will be needed." He removes the creature from his blade by slinging it off. He walks over to the table and grabs a cloth, typically for wiping the mouth, and wipes the foul residue from his blade. "I hope to enact action before the morning is gone and past," he states.

Content with the appearance of his blade, he slides it back into its sheath. He turns his attention towards the freeholders. "If you do not have urgency to leave, I would like you to remain for this meeting, to give insight from your firsthand experiences," he tells them, "also... I think it would be best that I keep possession of these oddities, so that they may be studied."
 
Your falchion strikes one of the rabbits, and it briefly emits a low squeak, before splitting open slightly. Though the blood on its exterior has tried, splitting the small beast open reveals a spillage of blood that seems akin to black fluid. Butler, and the forester's sons, recoil in disgust and murmur some minced oaths. Butler rushes off to summon your advisors. After you clean your blade, the forester nods his consent when you request that the undead rabbits be surrendered, and that he stay to offer some counsel. "O'course, Lord Terryn." He says it more like... 'Lord Tern', though.

Your advisors enter the room. The first is your steward and principal advisor (and uncle) Sir Fulco. He's a grizzled man, a proper knight who is seen as a just administrator by the bailiffs and serfs whenever he has to solve local problems in your absence. He is clean-shaven but gray-haired, and wears the crest of your family proudly. He is married to Lady Parrice, who hails from Cotarhill. He bows respectfully to his nephew upon his entrance. "My lord," he greets.

Next comes Captain Garrens. A commoner without any connections to a noble or even knightly house, but a proper man-at-arms regardless. Your family is known for recognizing the accomplishments of the commonfolk, so he occupies an appointment that is very often (but not always) held by a knight. He possesses most of a knight's accouterments, including halfplate, a sword, surcoat, and destrier. "My lord," he bows.

Mother Anna is a 'motherly cleric'; these ordained women ranked above the daughters (nuns), but were generally a few steps below the fatherly clerics. Regardless, she occupied the position of household priestess, making her the chief religious official of this particular lordship. She was a kind and easy-on-the-eyes woman of graying hair, known for her piety and charity towards the common folk. "Good morning- ah..."

Naturally, your advisors are perturbed by the sight of the rabbits. Mother Anna gasps a bit, while the others grimace.
 
"Your reactions are natural," Artos chuckles lightly (not condescending in any way, more like 'I, too, was shocked'), "we do appear to have a situation at hand." Instead of taking his seat at the lordly chair at the end of the hall, he casually hops onto the table. "These men have brought before me some rabbits who seemingly refuse to die, along with news of this same anomaly occurring to other beasts around their wood," he enlightens to them, "I foresee repercussions if I do not take action, so I have seen fit to call upon each of you for your counsel."

"For starters, I think it would be with best interest to study these creatures, as disgusting and foul as that seems..." he continues, "we will not know exactly what they are and what is causing this unless we make attempts to understand." He makes known, "we will need a team of competent and knowledgeable individuals for this... wherever we might find those."

"Secondly, perhaps we should dispatch men to accompany the freeholders back to their land and assess the situation there," he goes on, "even collect further samples for testing." He pauses. "As long as there is no protest from our freeholder friends here." Artos carries on, "we may even want to send men to asses the situation throughout all of my land as this might not be so focused."

"Next on the agenda, I do not want any unnecessary panic across my realm," he states, "things must not be over-exaggerated, and I will require the cooperation of all. Whatever this is, we shall prevail, together."

We shall prevail together. What an honorable thing to say. Truth is, I can't achieve my goals without the loyalty and prosperity of my people... nor can I with mass panic across my realm. One can only hope that this issue won't linger. Or... could this be used to my advantage? Hmm...

Artos puts himself at ease after throwing out topics for discussion, but remembers to bring forth another point. "One last thing, do not hold your tongue if you feel there is something that must be discussed," he throws out there. Now, he awaits answers and counsel.
 
You put yourself up upon the great table, making everyone in the hall, be they a commoner, clergywoman, or your own uncle, look up to you for guidance. They raise their eyebrows, taking a few moments to gawk at the pathetic beasts stricken with this strange malady of undeath. Teeth are ground, and both your steward and captain have their hands fall to the hilts of their arming swords out of instinct. Though, your reassuring speech helps them to regain a calmer state of mind, and mull on some counsel to offer.

"Yes, we could likely inquire at the Freehold about these goings-on," Sir Fulco says, and the foresters all provide nods. Though it was a 'problem settlement' at times, the Terryns weren't unwelcome at the Freehold due to the historical lenience and charity of the family. Moreover, your speech about unity was convincing enough for frightened villfolk.

"I can get some of the lads prepared to ride over to Norwood," Garrens says. Most of your household footmen knew how to ride a saddle horse whenever the extra speed suited them, though they weren't quite cavalrymen. "Might want to let the rest of the villages know about this, so the masters of the manors can organize some lookouts."

Mother Anna thinks more may need to be done. "We should spread this news beyond the villages- we should check in on our neighbors as well, to ensure they are safe. Your aunt's home of Cotarhill, and perhaps our liege at Tuwold Castle?" She hums for a moment. "And since they are close, it would not hurt to know of how the Strongwoods and Harwoods to the south are faring," she said. Those two houses were based out of the castles Gremotte and Harhold, respectively.
 
Artos hops down from the table. "Very well, then we shall send out some riders," he declares, "I shall send two footmen back with the foresters to get a hold of the situation there, and I shall send a rider to Stonesfield, Meadowton, and Norwood Village, respectively, to deliver the news."

He looks to Mother Anna, "You are right, Mother, I will dispatch a rider to our neighbors, the Strongwoods and the Harwoods, to send word and inquire with them about what we have discovered. If they are experiencing similar anomalies, it would be beneficial to know."

He looks to Garrens, "It will be up to you to delegate the tasks among our men. I will say, the riders will only be delivering messages, in which I will write myself here shortly. They will also be tasked with delivering return messages, if any are given. The men that will accompany the foresters will need to be better suited for investigative work, they don't have to be great, just competent enough to collect information and relay it to us upon returning."

He looks upon each of them. "I will ride to Cotarhill myself, and then from there, I will ride to hold audience with my liege at Tuwold Castle. It will be good to get out and about. And. I know to have precaution, Uncle. Before you even mention it. I will allow a small retinue to accompany me for protection. Garrens can decide who will accompany myself."

Artos looks down at the creatures squirming on the floor, "Uncle, you have command of the estate in my absence. Assign someone to look into these rotten things while I'm out. I don't plan to be gone long." Artos knows his uncle to be an exceptional steward, therefore, he places much trust in his uncle.

He looks back up at everyone, "comments and concerns?"

If there isn't anything that requires precedence, Artos will move to write the letters immediately and get them to Garrens to give to his selected riders.

Orders:
  • 2 footmen will accompany the foresters to investigate Norwood
  • a rider will be sent to each village, and neighbors Strongwood and Harwood. (total of 5 riders)
  • a small retinue will be formed to accompany Artos on his journey to Cotarhill and Tuwold Castle
  • Sir Fulco has command of Terryn Castle and has been asked to look into the rabbit corpses, along with any concerns that arise
The Letter:
  • We have encountered something out of the ordinary here at Terryn Castle. A small group of Freeholders from Norwood came and held audience with me this morning. In their possession was a sack filled with bloody rabbits, one being skinned. These rabbits were not like any other rabbits. They were corpses. Moving corpses. Undead corpses. I know how bizarre something like this must sound, but I witnessed them with my own eyes. I am writing to you so that you are made aware, to look out for similar occurrences. To be cautious. In these troubled times, the best thing for us to do is to remain vigilant, to overcome whatever is standing on the morrow. If you have any news of relevance, do not hesitate to send a message my way, or even to request audience. We will prevail.
Best,
Lord Artos Terryn
 
Your uncle makes sure to 'help' Garrens select the men that will be accompanying you, pointing out the soldiers he personally believes to be the most experienced. Garrens is gracious about the advice; he knows Sir Fulco always minds the safety of his nephew.

Captain Garrens nods after his directions to have some men conduct an investigation. "I'll pick out some of the brighter lads of the bunch," he assures you. Though practically all the common staff were more or less illiterate, some of them could still be quite observant and articulate. "They'll see what they can find out."

There are no comments or concerns from your advisors at this point; Mother Anna offers a short prayer.

After writing the letters (Mother Anna reminds you of the proper addressees for the neighboring houses; Lord Edwin Harwood and Lord Greydan Strongwood). Afterwards, they are sent to Garrens, who hands them over to his lads on horseback. Many of them are simply regular servants... men and boys who conduct day work or simply wait on your family's needs; tending cattle, washing your floors, having their wives cook for you, or simply standing watch on the gate (usually without bothering to put on their mail shirt these days). But now that times seem to be changing, the younger ones are clearly happy to wear their swordbelts and embark on a 'quest' for their master, though the senior servants who have seen past battles keep their faces tight; perhaps they viewed the weather as a bad omen. Meanwhile, Garrens seems to have selected the men to inquire into the situation at Norwood; they were Ralf and Rorric Thatcher.


Your horse is prepared, along with the most experienced of your retainers, the proper old soldiers. Your knightly arms and armor are available to take, should you so choose.
 
Artos takes a moment back at the keep to ready himself, donning his barely touched and shiny plate armor. He typically only ever uses it to make sure he is used to the weight if the occasion of "battle" or the such ever were to occur. As for his weapon of choice, he keeps the Terryn Falchion by his side. Adding to his arsenal is a kite shield bearing his house's emblem, the oak; although, he allows it to rest on his back, as there is no need to have it in hand at the moment. When his preparations are finished, he makes his way out of the keep and into the castle yard.

I love a good excuse to don my armor. While it is very unlikely for anything to occur, perhaps it will give myself a more "lordly" presence, especially towards the primitives that are the commonfolk. The day to day activities here at the castle for the past... forever really, have bored me. I'm in need of something, even if it is just a countryside ride.

He makes his way to his horse and mounts. He surveys the yard, trotting around, making sure that everything is in order. He then trots up to Garrens. "The boys heading to Norwood, I know it goes without saying, but I'll say it anyways. They represent me, and in such they will show the proper respect while conducting my business. I know you have things under control, but it's been a while since anything out of the ordinary has happened."

Artos rides to the front of his retinue. "Men. We march to Cotarhill to make audience. After that is done, we will march to Tuwold Castle to do the same. When my business is complete, we shall return back here. We won't be gone for too long, so enjoy the time out as an opportunity to 'stretch your legs'."

He lends one last look to the yard and meets the eyes of his uncle, whom he gives a nod, then departs.
 
Since you don't have an official squire, some of your servants help you strap on your jack o' plates after lacing up your aketon. In addition to steel greaves, pauldrons and gauntlets, you have a dandy helmet as well, a gift from your father. It looks like one of the standard great helms at first glance, except it has a visor that flips up and allows you full vision. One of the more recent innovations in knightly armor, it is seemingly becoming more fashionable these days.

"Aye, milord. That freehold can be a place of ill repute," Captain Garrens agrees. Shoddy brothels, acorn ale and berrywine served out of hovel-taverns, even drunken horse races and archery competitions; these could all be a vice for the otherwise lawful tenants of Terryn holdings. Castle workers have had their wages docked by your uncle whenever they engage in such frivolousness... Similar instances occur in the various Terryn villages; though free tenants are exempt from restriction when it comes travel, serfs are occasionally caught by your masters and bailiffs for sneaking out, and are made to hand over silver or livestock as amercements. "With the seriousness of this, eh, situation, the boys will know to behave themselves. I will speak to them very closely before they depart, milord."



You address your entourage, receiving some nods and yet more aye milords from your men, before heading out into the countryside. People can still be seen in the fields, either planting seeds or harvesting the spring crops of oats, barley and beans. A cart is moved off the road to make way for Lord Artos and his men, and a few peasant children riding in the back smile and wave towards their lord.

You pass through both Stonesfield and Norwood Vill. These villages seem relatively unchanged. The road to Cotarhill is in a rather poor state, with grass and weeds overtaking it in some sections, but it doesn't significantly slow your party down. There are still farms nestled in the hills, but they are quite removed from the proper villages and their manors. You don't see very many people out in the fields.

Cotarhill Castle is soon seen up ahead. It is somewhat poorly constructed, and there are obvious vines creeping its way up the stonework. However, it's in a fine enough position, atop a hill anyway. About a mile out from the castle, your party happens upon something strange. The smell of acrid flesh enters your nostrils, and you are treated with a grisly sight. There is a smoking pile of refuse around a charred, upright log, where a writhing, blackened figure has been lashed with smoldered chains. It barely looks to be human anymore, just a dark, yet animated skeleton.

"...by bloody Paragon," one of your riders gasps. He motions upon himself the Emmortal's sign.
 
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Artos rides out of Terryn Castle with his visor open, and keeps it that way for the remainder of the journey. Better breathing and eyesight with it open, also communication. Full helmets can cause conversation to be a muffled blurb, otherwise. Riding past the cart, he glances upon the smiling and waving children, and returns their affection with a smile and wave of his own. Even though he's not the type to be affectionate with the commoners (unless they have something to offer), he fancies his public image. Being a lord of the people can have its benefits.

Some time passes, and their journey to Cotarhill Castle goes rather quiet. A simple countryside ride, just what Artos was expecting it to be... that is until they arrive. Artos looks upon the castle and gawks at its build. They must have let an average farmer design this one, eh? Though it does have a good position. When they built it, the lord must have picked the spot, but his builder was not among the competent. I wouldn't be surprised if the builder faced an "unfortunate" accident after construction. It wasn't the castle that strayed from Artos's expectations.

He was about to ride up to the gate when a stench causes him to curl his nose in disgust. He investigates for the source and quickly finds a horrific sight. A smoldering skeletal figure, charred from flames and still smoking lightly, moving irregularly. No person could survive being burned alive to this degree. Artos is wide-eyed and shocked, seeing the second seemingly impossible thing of the day. This one was much more intense than the rabbits, and it goes without saying as to why. Seeing the thing move makes Artos uneasy.

Th-this can't be real! If something like this exists, surely its purpose would be to torment the living! Damned! Damned is what it is!

He grits his teeth in disgust, peppered with hints of fear. He would hop from his horse to slay it, to relieve his ill-will and conscious, but he knows better from his experience with the rabbits... and for the fact that the thing is still alive from being engulfed in flames. He suddenly remembers his men, and how awkward it must be for all of them standing there looking upon this thing without the lord making comment, or taking control of the situation. Just all of them staring wide-eyed. He notices the discontent among them.

Ah hell... I've got to get it together.

He swallows his feelings and speaks up with strength, even if he is uncertain himself, he must be the image of bravery, "This is the exact reason for which we set out. The weather and the signs have been there for bad omens... something brewing on the horizon! We must discover what this is, and take action! We must seek out our neighbors and cooperate! We must remain vigilant and courageous, men, to prevail in even the darkest of times! And that is what we will do!"

Deciding that to be enough for maintaining morale, he rides to get a closer look at the thing, though not too close. His curiosity really gets the better of him sometimes. He examines the creature, his face returning to disgust as he's able to see it with more detail. He mutters lightly, "abomination," before returning to his men.

"Right! We shall proceed towards the gate! We will soon learn just what this thing is!"
 
Your men draw back uneasy breaths as they look at the charred flesh and blackened remains, before gradually shifting their gazes to you. They see that you had remained... frozen, for just a moment, perhaps. But you're able to quickly deliver some reassuring words, which prompts some nods from your armsmen.

You ride just a bit closer to the creature. You can see the remnants of its clothes, and though they've been severely burned, it looks like a dress. All the hair has been singed off, making it otherwise hard to notice. It continues to move weakly, teeth snapping, and though its eye sockets are hollow, it seems to look directly at you. Its bones seem to crackle and pop as its movements become more violent upon your approach, but the chains ultimately keep the beast in place.


Your men follow you onward, to the castle gates. You see figures poking their heads up from the battlements. "Who goes there?" a guard calls. You can see a man in bowl-helm aiming a crossbow at you, along with a few archers.

One of your riders hoists your family standard, giving it a small wave to inform the guards of your identity. There is a brief pause, and the missile weapons are lowered before the crossbowman speaks out. "Lord Terryn.... Eh, Lord Cornick is not having... visitors today," he says, face tight.

Someone else from the battlements can be heard yelling. "Keep the gates closed!"

"Are these people bloody mad?" one of your soldiers murmurs.
 
Artos expresses bafflement, his arms held outward as if to say "are you serious?", at being denied entry to the castle. His face goes stern and he speaks up, "What is the meaning of this? Has your lord forgotten that our houses are bound by marriage?" He eyes the battlements, looking upon each of the men looking down on the Terryn group. His eyes are filled with displeasure.

Cornick, I swear... if this is about the body down the path, what do you plan to do, sit tight and shit yourself to death?

He swallows back the irritation, for a moment at least, "I bring news of most importance, and from seeing whatever that thing down the road was, you too, have something that needs explaining."
 
The guards stop for a moment, appearing conflicted on what to do. They briefly argue among themselves, and it's hard for you to decipher what it's about.

"Lord Cornick- he is in... ah... You see, Lady Kari... and some others, are not well," one of the guards calls down. Lady Kari was one of his younger daughters.

"It is not safe to come in, Lord Artos," another guard claims. They seem to measure their words carefully, and it confuses your men, who exchange nervous glances with one another.
 
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Artos appears to understand what they are getting at, "I see..." he pauses, "then, I will no longer request entry." He lets his thoughts organize themselves before continuing, "I do hope that wasn't one of his daughters I passed on my way up here...? Hmm... regardless, my intuition tells me that it's related to the situation on your side of this wall." He watches their reactions carefully, seeing what he can read, if anything at all. "I grow tired of the hazy answers," he declares, "what exactly is going on here?"
 
The men remain silent for a few moments, grinding their teeth at your inquiry. "Ghouls," one man declares. "She turned into one of the things! She killed two pages, and they all had to be locked away in the cellar. She did injury unto some other servants, and now they've all taken ill..."

One of the others, an archer, shakes his head. "It's not just here. The villfolk say there is a curse about, and they must have burned that 'sorceress' they were blaming for it..." he says, confirming that the burned girl was not Lady Kari.
 
Artos sees flashes of the rabbits, along with the charred woman, as they speak of ghouls and curses. He can only imagine how the situation will proceed to worsen, especially for them, if they have numerous 'sick' individuals within their own castle. "That is... concerning, to say the least," he responds, "we have had similar experiences, but with animals, in my land." He looks back to his men for a moment, already thinking about a plan of action while he is speaking. "Knowing now that whatever this is also effects man, that changes things considerably." He looks back up to the men on the battlements, "I do see that there isn't much I can do here, but," he pauses, "I must leave a message for your lord."

He allows them a moment before proceeding, "or, if your lord is unable to... operate... then perhaps my advice can be of some use for you. Those people that appear ill... this is purely speculation, but I fear they could result the same as the first case. You may already be doing this, but keep watch of those sick people. Keep them locked away somewhere, just in case. I know it must be difficult, especially if Lady Kari is among them..." He pauses, already seeing visions of Lord Cornick being stubborn, not taking proper measures with his daughter because he's not able to fathom any unpleasant outcome. Artos pictures Lady Kari animating much like the charred woman and ripping a chunk of flesh out of Lord Cornick's neck with her teeth.

"Right... just heed my word. Tell him that I pray for her health, but he will need to take action in order to preserve the health of his land and his people. Let him know that it was unfortunate we could not meet, but that I wholly understand. And that House Terryn is here for cooperation in these dark times."

He trots closer to his riders to speak privately with them. "Things have been pretty bizarre, I know, but let's remain resilient. I'm going to need a volunteer to quickly relay news of what's happening here to my uncle back at the castle. He needs to know about the... 'ghouls', and really the situation here. I hope Lord Cornick is intelligent enough to handle things, but he might be blinded by fatherly love, so as a precaution, it would be best to go ahead and relay this. Let my uncle know of the possibility of collapse here in Cotarhill."

He waits patiently for a volunteer. If he has to, he will assign the task to one of his men.

"The rest of us will continue onward to Tuwold Castle," he states, before returning his attention to the Cornick men. "If there is nothing else you deem worthy to inform me of, then I bid you farewell!"
 
[Gonna say that his full name is Lord Cornick Hycott, of Cotarhill.]


As you deliver your words of warning to the Tuwold guards, they listen closely, but ultimately appear to be quite disheartened. It's clear that the castle is in a very uncertain and possibly chaotic state, indeed. Still, they're men of their lord, and they give stern nods of acknowledgement. "Aye," the crossbowman sighs. "We'll tell Lord Cornick. Thankee, Lord Artos," he says.

You speak with your small entourage, and make your plans known. One of your men, a blonde-haired lad whose name you might not remember, quickly volunteers to ride back.

You bid the castle guards goodbye, before continuing on the way to Tuwold castle.


You pass by the small village south of Cotarhill, with the serfs mainly hiding in their hovels as you pass by. A few can distantly be seen working in the fields, but overall, there is an eerie silence... Passing through the hub of the village, you can faintly hear the sounds of a group prayer in the chapel. Other than that, nobody is up and about. There are no greetings or hails as your party passes through.

Travelling on the road to Jeborough, you see the Tuwold domains. Lots of pastureland, with flocks of sheep and other livestock. The peasants living in the hamlets away from the main villages are more friendly and active, it seems... but even they seem to be a bit cautious, never travelling alone.

When you are passing through Jeborough, you can see that there is more going on. This village is larger than most, and the hum of everyday activity is hard to stifle, even with such strange happenings. People are thatching roofs, collecting well water, and tending to their gardens and animals. You see the local master, Sir Kade Tuwold, is wearing his armor and has a few armed men in his company. He rides over to hail your party.

"Greetings- do any of you lads know what's going on in Stoncrest?" he asks. This freckled knight sits atop an old, but sturdy gray destrier, and has a fine tabard of green thread. "I've heard tales of trouble, so I am getting my men ready just in case."
 
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Artos gives the knight a courteous nod at his greeting, though his brow twitches at being called a lad, improper of his lordly status. "We have just made our way from Cotarhill," he tells the knight, "so I'll have to say, I'm entirely ignorant of the happenings in Stoncrest."

Lad? I've forgotten how bloody intolerable the Tuwolds can be.

"My men and I are on our way to your family's castle, to hold conference with the Baron," he answers, before a question is even asked. He shifts himself a bit on his horse, leaning forward a little. "These 'tales of trouble', would you mind clarifying?" he asks, curiously.
 
[contradiction fixed in my last post]

"Ah, I see." Sir Kade says, gesturing along the path when you mention where you are travelling to. "Well, the castle is just over yonder, Lord Terryn."

The knight lends an ear to the rest of your speech, and nods when you tell of your intended meeting with the baron.
Upon your request for an explanation, he merely shrugs his shoulders. "Well, they're just tales right now- but apparently old Stromwood is having problems with the peasants in those two villages near here- Stoncrest, and perhaps Woodwick. I've got my lads on standby in case anything occurs, and threatens to spill over in the Tuwold barony, of course."

1587875289128.png
 
"I see..." responds Artos, who was thinking that it would have been something related to the other strange occurrences, which it still could, but 'peasant uprising' doesn't exactly scream 'the dead are rising!'. He decides that it really isn't of much concern to him, at least not momentarily. Just like Sir Kade said, it had not yet affected the lands of the Tuwold Barony, and there was no telling if it even would at all. Besides... those bumpkins are like to get themselves slaughtered... or better yet, perhaps they'll storm Stromwood's halls. Chaos creates opportunity. What kind of opportunity? Well, that's the fun of it.

"I'll be making my way, then," he tells the knight, "hopefully nothing comes from the issues of Stoncrest, but if it does, we are all reassured that you are prepared here in Jeborough." He totally hopes that something comes from the issues of Stoncrest, unless it involves strange supernatural occurrences, in that case, he hopes for its containment.

He offers a farewell wave and prepares to continue his journey.
 
"Yes, good journeys to you, Lord Artos," the knight replies, before turning back to managing his villfolk.

1588141583632.png

From the large vill of Jeborough, you and your affinity ride up to Tuwold keep. It is a stout tower house, well-built, but positioned in the middle of some flat pasturelands. Not the work of a military genius, but defensive needs in Midduch were lesser than other parts of the realm. The Tuwolds have plenty of revenues from their various fiefs, and the rest of the buildings surrounding their domains look well-kept and maintained.

The banner of House Tuwold is still flying high above the simple castle, and some servants are already standing outside to greet your party; you notice that more guards than usual are posted around. "Hail, Lord Artos. We'll send word to our master of our presence." Your party's horses are offered a spot in the stables, and you are granted an audience with the Baron.

He is a man nearing middle age, bearing a great mustache but a thinning head of hair. "Greetings, my faithful lord," he nods. "I believe I know why you are here... several strange reports have come in."
 
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