Knight of Wessex (A Written World Quest)

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"The cave is man-made," Reinald says with eyes closed and legs crossed beneath him. Under the light of the midday sun, the horses nose at nearby grass shoots while Reinald's bird scouts far beyond eyesight. Audrey sits across the quick-crafted camp with armor polish in one hand, a rag in the other, and a piece of Reinald's armor across her lap—it is the duty of a Squire to care for their master's armor, after all, and Audrey is anything if not dutiful! "And recently formed."

Audrey tilts her head, a question sparking as she sets the polished plate to the side and already reaches for the next in line, "What marks it as such?"

Reinald hums a nod, "A good question, but one that requires the cave to answer." A flame-flicker of pride stiffens Audrey's spine. "In short, when a cave is formed, the edges are often soft from years of exposure to the elements. The younger the cave, the sharper the edges."

"I see," Audrey nods as she commits that to memory. Though she is obviously naturally skilled and in possession of talent far beyond her peers, it would only leave her dishonored if she never attempted to broaden her knowledge!

A slight smirk pulls at the corner of Reinald's mouth, but flattens out as quickly as it came. Perhaps he thought of something humorous but decided against sharing it? He couldn't have seen anything funny, what with his eyes being closed, so what was it?

"There is one Norseman on watch, which is unusual," Reinald's voice pulls Audrey from her thoughts, "Can you tell me why that is the case?"

Audrey hums, her polishing pausing with the furrowing of her brows. Why is that unusual? It is only logical to set a watch when one makes camp, unless one wants to be ambushed in their undergarments. So, could it be a trick question?

Audrey considers the possibility for a moment before discarding it with a shake of the head. No, Reinald Vieux is not a man who asks trick questions. Which means that he is asking this in earnest.

A flash of light draws a wince from Audrey, the polished metal in her lap catching the midday sun. As she leans away from the glare, her eyes snap wide in realization.

"It's midday!" She near shouts as it comes to her in a sudden rush. "That's why it's unusual! When one is up and about, they don't need to keep watch. So," Audrey frowns, "why are they?"

"Good answer, and a good follow-up," Reinald nods as he smiles. "What do you think is the answer?"

Audrey's lips thin, her polishing completely forgotten in the storm of thoughts whirling through her head. After a moment's contemplation, she offers an answer of her own, "Could the bandits be out and have left this one to watch the camp while they're gone?"

Reinald clicks his tongue against his teeth, "That is one possibility, what are some others?"

Audrey hums, but does as asked, "Maybe they're… Wait." Didn't the reports say that the Norsemen were attacking people at night? In that case, "It's because they slumber during the day, right? And go out at night?"

Reinald tilts his head to the side, "That's what the reports say, yes. Can you give me one more reason?"

"Maybe it's a punishment detail?" Audrey offers as she wracks her brain for any other possibilities, "Or, maybe they have prisoners?"

A smile spreads across Reinald's face as he offers her a generous nod, "Very good. While it is more than likely that the watchman is there because they rest in the day, we cannot discard the possibility that he is playing prison guard, nor can we forget that those are not mutually exclusive." Tapping a finger on the ground, where Audrey had drawn up a plan in the dirt, "Can you tell me why that makes certain aspects of your plan inadmissible?"

Audrey scowls. Her plan is perfect! But… As her eyes land on the pile of salt blocking the entranceway—and the air with it—she can't quite help but consider the implications. If there are prisoners, then they will surely die before the Norsemen. As it is a Knight's duty to protect those under their aegis, they can't block the entrance for fear of killing prisoners.

Dammit!

Audrey huffs and tells Reinald just that. He nods and offers a gentle pat to the shoulder, "It was a good plan and one that I would gladly execute in any other circumstances. However, the potential for prisoners makes me unwilling to see it through. With that in mind," he opens his eyes and, taking a stick from the small pile Audrey collected for firewood, makes a few adjustments to the plan, "if we wait until just before sunset, we'll catch them just as they are waking up. By killing the watchman, the others will wonder where he went and go to investigate, allowing us to catch them in ambush."

Audrey scowls and balls her fists at her sides, "I… I guess that that's a good idea…"

She trails off as Reinald laughs, a warm flush rising to her cheeks, "In the meantime, practice the Litany of Nightsight. It will be useful in the coming battle."

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Arriving shortly before nightfall, Audrey watches the watchman stifle a heavy yawn from the shadows. Having just rotated the guard, the current watchman seems to be very sleepy—which both confirms the night-time activity theory and provides ample opportunity.

The guard leans against his spear as the tail-end of his rope-tied hood sways in the gentle breeze. He yawns, his shield-arm coming up to paw at the air before his mouth—the shield in question leaning against his leg. The setting sun glints off the sax on his belt, which secures the thick cloth covering his body.

Audrey takes a deep breath, grips her sword tight, and steps out from the darkness.

The guard blinks once, long and slow, before jostling into action. Kicking his shield into hand, he lowers his spear as his eyes narrow. Gaze darting across the armor on Audrey's body and the sword in her hand, it's clear he recognizes what she is.

Over, judging by how he still advances despite the awareness, he doesn't seem to be especially cognizant of the true gap in strength. Whether by delusion or foolishness, the Norseman seems to believe that he is a match for Audrey.

He must be thinking of the glory he will receive by slaying a Squire on his lonesome—fool.

Regardless, his equipment is fairly good and he moves with controlled precision—the kind of precision one only acquires through steady experience, he's blooded, and this isn't his first battle to the death. He also looks quite light on his feet, which could be a problem if he's given room to maneuver.


What do you do?

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AN: The Litany of Nightsight is below the level of abstraction, so you don't need to worry about using it.

We're aiming to follow this up on Wednesday, to make up for missing Friday. Have fun dealing with your first Viking!

Audrey was strong, glorious, and wonderful, yes, but she also respected the words of her elders, and that meant that she needed to treat Norsemen seriously, as such, she resisted the urge to begin with her usual opening, merely advancing steadily on him, sword raised and pointed outwards, an impression that she would strike at a moment's notice. Her foe, a spear wielding, hooded bandit had an easy stride, matching her pace, sizing her up.

Audrey could be patient though, and she knew that if you were fishing, you needed to wait for the fish to bite on the bait, not simply nibble at it. So she kept her stance steady, continued to circle, and waited for the moment, continuing her study. Even with the Vanguard's Prayer speeding her mind and limbs, she could sense her foe would be her match, a harrier? Skirmisher maybe?

Her foe's patience seemed to run to its end first, the Dane scowling, his spear twirled in hand, moving from a cautious posture to an overhand grip, raised overhead. Viscous Ordstirr poured from his hand to the tip of the blade, sharpening it to a wicked barb, and the spear-turned-javelin glinted as it sailed through the air surrounding them, a muffled crack as it tore through space overtaken by his bellowed battle cry!

Only to find it caught on the edge of Audrey's leveraged blade, deflected off to the side, she would have also taken a moment to gesture at her enemy to 'Bring it' as some would say, but it seemed he needed no further encouragement, drawing his Sax and pouncing towards her.

No, that's not the right word, prancing maybe? She was beginning to understand the nature of his technique, she just needed one more piece of information to finish her assessment. Her sword sung, an overhand blow, her off-hand bracing against the opposite edge, because if she was right…

Tawny Ordstir erupted from her foe's brow, a rack of arcing, pointed branches that would ward off her strike, and she grinned beneath her visor as her speculation was proven correct. She couldn't tell the specific Style, but he was definitely emulating a stag with his technique, horns to gore, and agile legs to flee. He sought to wrench her sword from her hands–but she was prepared for some form of obstruction, using her off-hand to forcibly leverage her descending stroke away from his outstretched antlers. She saw his eyes widen, and his shield hastily moved to drive her blade away. Wood splintered and iron bent, but the shield held. Audrey's foe is now wiser to the obvious difference in their strength and skill.

Not ideal, but he was in close, and for all that his defense had been foiled, he was still a seasoned fighter, his Sax, dripping with Ordstirr lunged for the eyeslit of her helm, a painful blow if it hit, the sharp, pointed weapon a dangerous thing indeed.

It was just a shame that she was well instructed in the vulnerabilities of her own equipment! She ducked her head just so, and the thrust skidded off the crown of her helm harmlessly, she was in his reach now, and he wouldn't have a chance of leveraging those spectral horns from this posture! Her sword flickered, and Audrey couldn't help but give a huff of dismay as he bounded away, seemingly carried by the wind away from her counterstroke, bouncing back and to the side.

Well, all the better, she needed to draw him away at any rate. She recovered her stance, defense airtight as she steadily walked him to the side. It was a moment's peace in the press, and Audrey felt her Fervour flowing freely through her, she could assuredly maintain this pace for longer than he would, and the moment he was far enough away… That would be the opportunity.

Still, he was frustratingly nimble, collecting his discarded spear as he bounded away, Audrey keeping her gaze firmly on him. It was irritating, because that spear gave him no small amount of reach, it wasn't enough to change the outcome, but it was a greater chore than she appreciated having to do at the start of a battle.

She could see the angle of his circling beginning to tighten though, Ordstirr beginning to collect at his forehead again–a charge then?

And then he erupted in light, a golden-brown aura of radiant energy spilling from his pores, filling the atmosphere around him–and the Ordstirr that was already gathering seemed to sublimate into a higher state, for just a moment, just a single moment.

But it was that moment he needed to achieve the speed of a devil, a single bound covering a hundred meters, a sharpened tooth and a bramble of iron-hard antlers seeking her heart.

*CLANG!*

He had given Audrey too much time, and for all his speed, he was still emulating a deer–a creature that may be swift, may be agile, but they depended heavily on their legs to win, they did not have the tough hooves of a horse or the sheer mass of a bull or boar.

She didn't need to be faster than he was, she just needed to anticipate the moment of his charge, pivot on one foot around, and kick him in the leg as he passed. This alone wouldn't be enough to do a great deal, he was still a hardened killer with terrific pagan magics.

It did ruin his balance though, and Audrey's Hama closed shut the jaws of the trap!

Blood was spilled, and the Norseman gave a cry of pain as he fell prone. There was no better opening than this! His shield could not be raised in time! Ruby lightning sparked on the tip of Audrey's sword, tracing a line of War through space as it sought the Dane's very heart!

Then upon his brow, his hood shone with the light of his Ordstirr, elm-branches sticking out of the magical overlay, it shone, and his horns recondensed themselves. Her foe rolled supine, twisting in a fashion that would break the spine of a normal man!

But it was enough for Audrey's blade to be caught within the jaws of his horns, and with a bellowing war-cry, he cast her blade off into the distance! The Nerve! of him!

Still, he was armed, she was lacking in the same, and he was still prone for now, even if he was rapidly regaining his footing, she had a moment, she could still make this work! Her foot caught the edge of her fallen sword and kicked the hilt up into her hand, her stance recovered–and the bandit was…

He was running?!?

"Alarm! Alarm!" He bellowed, looking to her as he backed to the cave. "Knights attacking us!" Or something like that, her Gift of Tongues wasn't really the best. He turned back to Audrey, grimaced, and looked back to the cave entrance, presumably expecting some kind of response.

He wouldn't know that Reinald was muffling things! She could still make this work! She clicked the heels of her boots, summoning forth the speed she had accumulated–and of all things he cursed and turned away, the speed that he bounded with previously now turned to the sole cause of getting to the cave and apparently shaking his comrades awake!

She couldn't let him get away! She was swift, she was sure, she wouldn't let him flee! The two intersected just before the mouth of the cave, her sword shining forth as he leapt over.

And by a hair's breadth did he clear her blade! A somersault leading to a graceful landing as he took another step forward–only to collide with a pillar of salt that manifested before him. He stumbled back, shocked and surprised at the unexpected obstruction, as Audrey's sword reached for his very neck from behind! Wide open! He didn't have a chance! He started taking a step as the pillar collapsed, the transient Fervour construct not enduring for longer than an instant, just as her sword lands home.

His hood shimmers, the piece of horn that bound it glowing–and snapping! Audrey's blade repulsed as it broke, leaving only his shining Aspect behind as the rest of his cloak tangled her up! A death-warding talisman? He had something cheating like that? She had him! She had him dead to rights!

He looked back to smirk in her face, That rat bastard!

*THUNK*

Only to freeze up as a pitted iron sword sprouted out of his brow, lacking a hand to carry it. He froze for a moment, twitched, shuddered, and slumped to his knees.

A pat on her shoulder. "Good try Audrey, the plan was fine, and you executed it to the best of your ability. Let this be a lesson to you though, the enemy gets a say too–and none are going to willingly present their neck to you without a fight." Reinald walked past her, retrieving the sword he had thrown from wherever he was hiding from the skull of the fallen Norseman, then taking a moment to think about it, and then stomping them a few times in the back, breaking the spine in several places, just to be sure.

"Take a moment, get your breath, adjust your stance, I'll take the van from here on out. We can talk more when the job is done."



0~0~0

Backlit by the setting sun, two soldiers of God, Knight and Squire, entered the lair of the pagan bandits—a cave fresh hewn into the earth.

Contrary to Audrey's expectations, despite the sentry being shut down, the Danes were already up, armed, and ready—and one was already gunning straight for Audrey!

Armed with a sax in one hand and flames in the other, a broad smile splits his fire-haired face as he throws himself at Audrey. Audrey jerks to the side, sword coming up as she catches the eager blow and sends the man sailing over her shoulder.

A stab of pain washes across her arms, from where she'd caught the blow. He's strong, very strong. Getting hit by him won't be pleasant, not at all.

And, if her eyes aren't deceiving her, miniscule cracks line the edge of the sax—cracks that weren't there before. If this is the truth under God, then it means he hit her sword so hard that he damaged his own weapon in the process.

…Which would explain the trio of identical saxes clinging to his belt.

But, despite the feral man bearing a frenzied grin, it is not her foe that draws the eye, but the hulking figure even now engaging her master, alongside a man in an antlered wolf-helm.

Thick-limbed and stumpy-legged, warts cling to every inch of gray, wrinkled flesh. Knobby-knees knock together—not out of fear, but simply due to the sheer size of the extrusions—as the layers of heavy-haired fat ripple with every motion. Mushrooms and hair intertwine with fatty flesh as beady eyes peer out from the shadows of a broad, over-exaggerated brow. Tusks laden with plaque sit slick with slobber as it draws back a heavy fist.

This thing is known by many names, but Audrey knows it by the most common: the troll.


What do you do?

(Reinald is currently engaging with the troll and a warrior clad in ghostly wolves. A third warrior hangs in the back, waiting for an opportunity to join in. It seems he is smart enough to avoid getting between a troll and a knight going at it, which means he may well join your battle with the fire user if given the opportunity to.

Audrey's opponent seems to have the same light-footed grace as the sentry, suggesting they share the same Martial Style--honestly, they all seem to have that same Stag theming going for them, which suggests they're close friends or neighbors. He's also, as mentioned, extremely strong, and hits really hard, plus, you know, fire magic. Audrey can't pick up on anything else because she's a little busy not dying.)
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AN: Incidentally, we may not have mentioned it before, but we'll say it now. Audrey will not spend Zeal automatically except to protect herself from obvious life-or-death alpha strikes. If you intend to use any, mark your budget in the Plan, and she'll use up to that amount when appropriate, with any remainder being a reserve for a proverbial last ditch reaction to something scary.

This isn't to say you can't win without it, you can, but your usual safety net is gone because Reinald's a little busy dealing with the Devil's Own Personal Tar Pit Generator, and the dice gods are fickle deities, you probably won't die if you go down here, but the consequences will still be weighty. Consider your options carefully.