Seekers of Truth RPG

[Himaran]

Raen stopped at the door and returned to the group after Haven offered to procure horses. He was new in Rohan himself, and steeds (particularly the act of renting or purchasing them) had never been his calling anyway. But, feeling a strong urging to contribute, the ranger reluctantly pulled one of the long, slender knives out of his belt and extended it (handle first) towards Sandrina. "Perhaps, Miss, you would like use one of these? Deadly from afar, and in close, of course." The woman thanked him and slid it into her belt gingerly. He turned away and walked towards the open window, suddenly accosted by the need for fresh air. It was stuffy in the small room, and the cool breeze was quite comfortable.

Glancing down at the cobbled road, Raen noticed a lone rider trot his horse past the establishment and then gallop out of sight. Travelers were rare in these parts of Rohan, and the man had not appeared to be a soldier. The ranger knew that he was overly paranoid, but this was no coincidence. The messenger had to be headed for the estate, there was no doubt in his mind. How to explain it to the others, however, was another matter. Perhaps, this time, his worries should be kept private. At the expense of Sandrina? No, this was too serious a matter to worry about sounding foolish. Still, he decided to approach Braedon first with his suspicions.

[Crystal Heart]

Sandrina gave a nod of thanks and watched as the man hurried out of the room, his face flushed. She wondered why he was acting the way he was.

"Fresh horse might be a good idea. I have been travelling on foot myself, thus I have no horse. If it is alright with the rest of you. Excuse me for a moment," Sandrina said, following the man named Raen out.

She burst out into the cold night air and walked over to Raen just in time to see a dark sillouetted figure running away. She looked at Raen's face. She had never seen a man look so pale.

"Who was that? Why do you look so pale? Please, kind sir tell me," Sandrina begged, shivering in the cold. Her insides felt like ice and for the first time since she had wandered she felt truly scared for her life and for the others that accompanied her.

"He is going to tell them isn't he?" Sandrina asked, her voice shaking.

Memories of her beating flooded her mind. She cried out and fell to the ground, shaking and crying as the memories increased in intensity. A single word escaped her lips.

"Help."

[Arien]

Braedon watched Sandrina followed Raen out, and so he too followed. The others were capable by themselves at the moment and they seemed to have an adequate amount of control over the planning for the while. He had preferred to stay quiet during their planning, he was relatively sure that they were all able of supplying themselves with sufficient weapons.

They were, all in all an capable group, but Braedon knew that they would need to be more than just capable if they were expecting to do what was being suggested, or at least what he thought was being suggested.

He went after Sandrina, as she came to a stop next to Raen he slowed his step. His eyes cast down the down the road to where the two were staring and where a dark figure was fading into the distance. Sandrina looked a back to Raen, her face full of confusion.

"Who was that? Why do you look so pale? Please, kind sir tell me," she begged him, but Raen said nothing. Neither did Braedon. He stood behind the two watching silently; they were unaware of his presence. Quietly he watched as Sandrina’s confusion turned to fear. "He is going to tell them isn't he?" She was shaking now.

Still Raen did not answer; he cast his eyes down to the floor and the up to her as she fell to the floor, tears falling from her eyes.

“Help,” she whispered. Raen looked to Braedon. They both knew that that messenger was heading. They had to try and get going as soon as possible. Braedon looked to Sandrina, he pitied her, and it was surely a difficult thing to deal with.

He wished perhaps he could offer his sympathy or words of comfort to help her, but it was not in his nature. He did not even know how too! Anything he could think of sounded foolish and too naïve considering the circumstances.

Instead Raen broke the silence in-between Sandrina’s quiet weeping. “We will help you. We both will.”

She looked to Braedon; he nodded trying to give an encouraging look. It was hopeless.

“We all will.” Raen said helping her to her feet. The others now had taken notice of Sandrina and the other two.

Anora approached Sandrina, and grasped her hands. “You are shaking, what is wrong Sandrina?” Sandrina withdrew her hands from her friends and crossed them across her chest, rubbing her arms.

“They know...” she said quietly.

“Who knows?” Hama said, coming forward to stand next to Anora.

“A messenger, perhaps.” Braedon spoke up.

“Perhaps?!” Anora said, a little vexed at the situation. “It must be more than that if Sandrina...” she looked to her friend.

“What he means is it is likely, and we should be prepared for the worse. It is almost certain that if this messenger is heading to Sandrina’s Uncle we cannot expect this undertaking to be and easy one. We must be prepared.”

The group nodded.

[The Perky Ent]

"That tresonous Grimbrol!" Arthur shouted, riding back to his house. "Why didn't I just kill him! I would have sent a message to all who have tried to rob me! You'd think that after finding that farmer under the boulder they'd get the hint! But no! They try it again! When I get back, if there's been anything taken, everybody dies!" Across large green pastures Arthur rode, each mile a short gallop. Then, after a short ride, Arthur approached his house. Just the way he left it. "Home sweet home!" Arthur said, getting off his horse. The horse knew what to do now. It ran through the fields until it came to a fence on the horizon. There, a old man opened the gate and let the horse in. He would be safe for the night.

"What's this?" Arthur said as he observed the house. The door was opened a jar. "That's it! This one's gonna pay! I'm pushed over the line. It's a simple system. On my land, you do what I say, or else! I see no problem in the system. Why should they need to steal! Do they think I'm so rich because I rob?" Arthur said as he grabbed his sword and walked into the house.

Inside it was dark, but Arthur smelled something. Pipeweed. Someone had broken into his statch of Old Toby. Arthur was about to bring light into the room, but suddenly a light kindled itself in the back of the room. "No brother, you're rich because you gamble" Samuel had walked into the light to greet his brother. Instantly, Arthur put his sword away, and exhaled greatly. "Sam! There's no need to hide! What's the problem? Has father sent you? What's the matter?"

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama walked out of the doors of the inn, following Sandrina with interest more than concern. He saw her fall to her knees, and looked at Braedon. By Eru that man looked pale...He followed his gaze and saw the man running down the street. He swore silently under his breath and unstrapped his bow, fitted an arrow to it and fired roughly in the direction of the running man. Sandrina jumped at the sound, the others whirled around, looking at Hama who was standing, looking intently after his arrow.

It thudded to the ground in front of the man, who screeched to a halt for a moment, then looked over his shoulder and laughed and turned back to continue his running. Hama swore loudly, causing Sandrina to jump even more, and everyone else to raise at least one of their eyebrows. Hama knelt down on one knee in front of Sandrina, quickly replacing his bow as he did so, and took her head in both her hands, tilting it up so that she was looking at him. "Sandrina, if you need fresh horses, or weapons, or anything else from the Rohan armoury. You need only to ask. I can secure them from King Eomer. You will be perfectly safe as long as I am around to protect you. These men, your uncle and cousins, they will be punished so severely that it will make what happened to you look like a light fall." Hama smiled kindly as he said this, hoping that Sandrina would smile back, when she didn't he added, "You will have justice, I promise you that."

[Firefoot]

Harold had watched passively and coldly when Samuel left the room, a single tear falling down his face. He always preferred persuading people to breaking them to his will, but sometimes people needed to be broken. Harold only did what needed doing. If Samuel had been stronger willed he wouldn’t have come in here complaining that he could not leave with a clear conscience. It never occurred to Harold that perhaps if Samuel had been stronger willed he would not have given in to going. He did not dwell on it, and returned to business.

He was packed up, except for perishable food supplies. Those could be gotten together in the morning, or later that night. The next thing that needed doing was the hiring of mercenaries. He was resigned to needing to pay them, and then trust them to do their job. He wouldn’t trust them, really, but he had to leave them. There was an inn a few miles up the road. Harold knew that sometimes mercenaries without work stayed there. The day was passing to mid-afternoon already, but Harold thought that he could be there and back before full dark.

For the third time that day, Harold headed out to the stables. It had stopped drizzling, but clouds were gathering again; he figured on more rain coming soon. He selected a chestnut mare for his ride into town. She was a speedy horse, but she would not be taken when they left because of her bad ankles. As he rode out, he saw Samuel headed for Arthur’s estates. Harold called out, “You may tell Arthur that I am headed into town to hire some mercenaries.” Then he passed out of earshot.

Harold made it to the inn in reasonable time. He had not pushed the mare beyond a steady canter, ground-eating but not too tiring. He tied her outside the inn and went inside. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim interior, he realized that there were not many people inside the common room yet, due to the early hour. He did find what he had been looking for, however: a small group of men standing to the side, marked by their swords and bearing to be soldiers. Harold nodded once to himself. They should work. He walked over there.

“Good day to you,” he said. “I have a proposition...”