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Pietro


"Oh you keep it, please," he said, holding out a hand in a forestalling gesture.

Pietro thought for a long moment, his mind roving over different places and sites he'd transited and seen over the last few years.

"It reminds me of a flower I saw along the borders of the Plains of Kaa which was called a poppy." He nodded decisively.

"So, until we hear different, that is what I intend to call it."

Lyric

"Then poppy it is... Pietro's Poppy."

She mused over that for a time, she didn't know how long, maybe not long at all.

"There might be song there... I don't know yet."

Pietro


"There is a certain amount of... I can't remember the term," he said, frowning briefly and then shrugging.

"When words start off with the same sound..."

[OOC: I know the term, but Pietro has probably only heard the word 'alliteration' once or twice in his life. ]

Lyric

Lyric looked at Pietro blankly, wide-eyed and possibly even expectant he would remember the word for which he was searching. This hopefully served to make it quite clear that if an educated Squire of Lord Rames the Protector didn't know a word such as alliteration then there was no way some girl from a backwater village on the High Tarn was going to know it either.

"It was just two words," she mewled in an overly dramatic fashion.

Pietro


"Yes, two words that, instead of rhyming, started with the same sound. There is a term for that, I think."

He smiled at her and made a gesture of negation.

"But it means nothing and less than nothing, Miss Lyric." He shrugged.

"Perhaps it will come to me later. I think I heard a bard, an entertainer, mention the word years back."

Pietro reached out toward her but stopped just short of touching her shoulder.

"If I remember it, I will tell you."

Lyric

And so it would go for the remainder of the hours spent chasing Her across the sky. Some more talking and a lot more walking. But it was always going to be a losing race for the three of them. They would never catch She.

And with She low on the horizon now, Lyric began to look for a suitable place to make camp. Along an old Rhoni footpath, dangerously close to the Dirkwood with night looming. But they had each made several camps alone on the journey that finally brought them together this day.

"Pietro," she said aloud. "It is time we consider resting for the night..."

"...even a meal if you can bring yourself to eat something," she added in a teasing tone.

Pietro


He enjoyed the exercise and the companionship as they traveled together along the Rhoni pathway.

"Perhaps I could scout the area with Djinni's help to find a good campsite. It would save time as she and I can move much faster than I can afoot."

He grinned at the singer of songs.

"And I feel sure I can force down at least a bite or two."

Pietro moved to mount his mare.

Lyric

She moved alongside the squire and his horse and nodded at her pack, non-verbally indicating that he should pass it back to her to carry for the time he was away.

Pietro


The squire nodded and handed her rucksack down to her.

"I won't be gone long."

Twisting in the saddle, he looked all around to make sure there were no possible threats in the area. Seeing nothing, he urged Djinni forward and moved off in a canter searching for a decent campsite, one with running water hopefully.

Lyric

Lyric slung her pack around and shouldered and centered the weight as best she could. Everything she owned had been brought on this journey and she was far from her home. Sometimes she felt that she wasn't far at all though, or at least far enough.

While watching Pietro ride ahead a piece, scouting for a camp, an old piece of a tune she had heard when she was not this age, back in the Then, came to her. Perhaps it was walking so close to the Dirkwood that reminded her of this bit of song but suddenly it had meaning in the Now...

She sang a little as she walked, quietly, letting the melody be her companion as she walked bravely on... She sang in a hauntingly clear voice

"Now there's a tale I'm after singin' that me father used to tell
He said 'twas to enlighten me and chasten me as well
You may laugh about yer elders when She is shining bright
But be sure yer on the Imperial side of Killon's Bridge tonight"

It was not a happy song, that much was for sure. But it did impart a powerful warning as cautionary tales did go. Lyric couldn't remember when exactly she first heard it. Probably a minstrel sharing tales and songs that he had learned in his own travels. However it came to be known by her, it was one of the things that inspired her to become a minstrel as well.

Yes, the ever close Dirkwood and the encroaching fall of night must have brought this song to her mind. She skipped a couple or four verses to sing the final one in the intro. It was a long song, and one that would put you on the edge of your seat, that much was a truth.

"Now me, I'm no believer in such stories as their told
But things there are around us that can chill a heart so bold
And never will I laugh again at me father and his ale
For I have been across the bridge and lived to tell the tale"

She dare not sing this song to Pietro. There'd be no sleeping for either of them then. Every creak and groan and rustle of the wind through the grasses and the rushes would stir the tension tighter and tighter. Eyes darting and not drifting on dream. Oh and this was saying nothing of the howls and cries from deep within the dark and dangerous coppice itself.

She walked along humming now and she found herself hoping that Pietro was wise enough to look only on the south side of the trail for a place to rest the night.

Pietro


Pietro stood in his stirrups and saw a few trees bearing off toward the south in an almost straight line and, thinking that might indicate a stream or creek, glanced over his shoulder to make sure Lyric was all right.

She was following him along the path some ways back, but she seemed to be okay so he cantered toward the trees he'd spotted.

Lyric

"So it seems he likes the sight of something," she said to herself.

Pietro had turned off the trail, taking his horse into the grasses, among the rocks to find his way towards a small stand or copse, more like a line, of trees. She assumed that was his intention, but the truth of it was she barely saw him atop the horse. They were a far piece down the trail and were it not for the glint of the rays of She on all that metal he wore, she might not tell him from the shadows that were lengthening already.

She continued down the trail and figured she might be close enough for him to be back with word if he had found what he sought.

Pietro


He spotted the creek which ran along a declivity between two rows of small threes. Pietro put pressure on Djinni's flanks with his knees and the sensitive mare turned and cantered back to where Lyric was walking.

"There's a good place up there," he said, pointing ahead and to the left toward the copse of trees. He slid down from the saddle and resumed walking alongside the singer.

"Just a few minutes ahead."

Lyric

She nodded at Pietro. It was a fair thing to leave the assessment of the shelter to him. She was wondering though, if a fire would be wise. She had chosen against building one these last several nights. So very close to the shadow of the Dirkwood, maybe too close. Travelling alone, she didn't tempt darkness. But a fire would mean she could bundle a mash and heat it on a rock. It would be so much more filling and enjoyable than grains, seeds and berries, and a bit of gnawing on a meat strip. A fire would be nice.

But the fire would have to be sheltered and preferably concealed below the rise in terrain. There would be no good to come from 'inviting the shadows to dinner'.

"I have some simple trail food, with a little dried meat still, hart, I think... stuff I took from home when I left. It's not much but I will share and I can prepare something.... It won't be fine fare, that's a certainty... Not the kind yer used to in the big cities, but it will keep 'snarkhounds at bay' as the old saying goes... right?"

Pietro


"I would be pleased to share your fare, simple though it might be, Miss Lyric," he said as they approached the selected campsite.

"In my time of traveling, I have made do with much less and considerably worse."

He smiled down at her and then glanced around as was his habit.

"But I probably have more than you do so..." he paused and smiled again.

"Share and share alike."

Arriving at the creek bank, he looked around, frowning in consideration of the possibilities. Finally he nodded and began unsaddling and tending to Djinni.

"If we can find some dry wood underneath one of these trees, we could manage a near smokeless fire," he mused as he slapped the mare on her flank and let her go to the creek to drink her fill before rolling briefly on the small sandy beach, shaking the dust free and then moving off to find some decent graze.

"Remind me later to give Djinni her feedbag. I have an oats and barley mixture she likes. It's good for her, too. She has a bit of a nervous stomach at times and, if she eats only fresh grass for several days in a row, she tends to get the uh... scours."

The squire removed his chain armor and greaves and started gathering tinder and firewood, humming an intriguing tune as he worked.

(OOC: going to move things along as we work for some closure in this thread)



Lyric

While Pietro gathered wood she set about to sort through her remaining food supplies to come up with a meal. When Pietro returned she would see what he hoped to offer to her efforts. As gathering the wood, enough of it, could take a while she then checked out the creek bank to look for some broad leaf plants she could use for a mash wrapping.

She Pietro passed her along the bank on his way back to the encampment, she heard him humming a song. Of course she couldn't resist asking but she would have to wait until she was bringing her leaves back to the camp and passing him yet again.

"What is the song you sing," she asked of him as she crossed his path with her leaves.

Pietro


Choosing a near level spot not far from the creek, Pietro squatted, laid the basis for the fire, tinder and kindling, and got a small blaze started in only a few moments. He fed a few larger sticks and, once he was satisfied it would stay lit, he got to his feet and checked his saddlebags.

"I have a pot of pare-boiled beans flavored with venison that..." he paused and sniffed the mixture.

"Which need to be eaten soon," he said with a grin. "They'll be fine tonight, but... day after tomorrow?" He shrugged.

"I couldn't promise."

He added some water from the stream to the pot and placed it by the fire. Then he paused when he heard her question, looking confused and perhaps a bit embarrassed as if he had been caught doing something... wrong.

"Well, it's a song some of us squires used to sing when no one was listening... back in our training days when we were feeling a bit... rebellious and, like I said, no one was around to overhear our bad manners."

Pietro grinned crookedly and looked around before clearing his throat.

"I only remember one verse... there were a lot of them I've forgotten, but this is one of the... tamer ones."

He began to sing in his untrained, but not unpleasant tenor voice.

"Well the squires pious teachers
And the RamesDay preachers
Praise the virtues of sassafras root.
But what they are drinking
When She is a sinking
Is the drink brewed from forbidden fruit."

[OOC: The GM is welcome to correct sassafras to make it more HWD-like as long as he doesn't destroy the meaning or meter of the song. ]

Lyric

Lyric knelt near a rock as she was laying out a couple broad leaves as Pietro began to sign his verse from his early days of training. She began tapping her thigh with one hand as she paused what she was doing to give Pietro her full attention. She smiled broadly despite not understanding a couple of the words, nor the concept behind them. He was a fair singer too and that just made the more complicated rhyming structure come across even better.

She laughed aloud and clapped for her travelling companion when he finished.

"You really must remember other verses... it sounds like fun."

Pietro


"Oh, this is the kind of song where you write your own verses," he said, smiling in appreciation of her response.

"The song has been around for... oh, I have no idea how long and it must have hundreds of verses on all kinds of subjects. It is a favorite in the lower circles of Talantal."

Pietro squatted and stirred the pot.

"It is rumored by some that the original version or at least the tune was written by Thomas Montgomery himself."

Lyric

"There is so much I don't know," she admitted. "Like, I don't know who this Thomas is, and I've never been to Talantal... I really haven't been anywhere. This is my first time away from my home... so much is new and I want to hear it all....I want to learn it all... Every song, every poem... every story..."

And sensing that she was babbling a little in her enthusiasm over hearing something new, she bowed her head and sighed. She tried to focus again on the potatoes she had been carrying. They needed to peeled and boiled. They were the staple in her mash mixture.

"You sang very nice," she offered meekly, without eye contact.

Pietro


"Thank you... that means a lot coming from you... a singer of songs."

He thought a moment.

"The Tales of Thomas Montgomery as I heard is a series of humorous songs about the exploits of a rogue by the name of Thomas Montgomery..." He paused and smiled.

"Many minstrels have their own version of songs about him, each one more unlikely than the last."

Pietro went back to his saddlebags and got out an onion. He cut off a couple of black spots and then sliced the remainder of the onion into the now bubbling beans.

"Alliteration! That's the word! I knew it would come to me."

The Heartwood
Waverider’s Watch
The Dirkwood Forest, One Day East of Waverider’s Watch
Restday, the Fifth Day of Yrick

Pietro and Lyric... and others

A place to camp on the High Tarn was not hard to find.; it would have been hard not to find some trees for shelter or a small brook for water. Those were some of the few things one could find in abundance here in the middle of nowhere, in the shadow of the Dirkwood Forest.

It was nominally safe, too. Most natural predators had less challenging prey to find than those protected by a campfire, and there should be very few traveling out here – which made the patterns of hoof prints and disturbed swaths of tall grass all the more odd. The High Tarn was thus a sword that sliced both ways – it provided a moderately safe place for travelers to camp and walk, and yet its rolling hills and scattered rock could hide quite a bit from casual sight.

Pietro had already suspected this; many of the nights when he slept beneath the stars probably could have been spent in a sheltered barn or a farmer’s warm main room... except he had merely missed seeing the farmhouse as he rode by. It was not trying to hide in some nefarious manner, it was just the way things were out here.

True, it lacked order and rigor and too much was left to chance. But after riding these hills for so long, there was something to be said for living in a land by the land’s terms.

He had heard that a Knight had once said it was better to work with people than to force them into compliance. Maybe this was somehow like that. Of course, that Knight could not have been from Talantal.

They would never have said anything like that.

And for Lyric, it was simply a new song. It was a different one, too. It was a loose and ever-changing song, not the kind of melody where her betters would frown at a wrong note or a cadence that was not quite the expected, traditional meter.

The High Tarn somehow expected the unexpected. Or perhaps, rather, accepted it.

It was unexpected, something like a new song – finding a stranger walking the same path, being able to name a flower, telling a stranger a funny tale and discovering that laughter was the same no matter where you came from, and that every morning was very different and could be both warming and uncomfortable.

Here, stray roots obviously were both definitely misbehaved and stealthy, their presence not known until one discovered the bruise while undertaking the morning’s first yawn.

Breakfast on the trail was simple – it was what they carried with them, warmed on the hot coals of last night’s fire. But in some way, that simple fare somehow tasted as good as if they were in a fancy manor hall. This was true for both Lyric and Pietro, having spent the last bit alone. It was something most farmer’s wives knew, and why they waited both for their husbands to come in from the fields and berated them when they were late.

Food just tasted better when you didn’t eat alone.

Breakfast finished, cookery gear cleaned, the fire put out and coal scattered, the two newfound companions were ready to continue their way west. And for most of the morning, it was uneventful, save for their own lively conversation, words crafted to fill the empty spaces between here and there.

Once, far off to their right, Lyric caught sight of three figures, three riders, also headed in the same general direction. When she looked again or tried to point them out, they were simply not there. Like missing a farmhouse, they had been swallowed by the landscape.

Though that modest glimpse wasn’t the oddest thing that they saw.

They found themselves on the barest of paths. It was noted in just little bits and pieces, but it was evident that wagons had traveled the same way that they did. There were small stripes of bared earth here and there and those with a sharp eye could tell three things.

First was that the wagons that had passed by here had definitely chosen the easiest way to travel west.

Second, the wagons had passed by recently, for the tall grasses were still disturbed. Now, that was passing strange, as Marketday should have been yesterday and that was when most farmer folks went from one place to another.

Last, there was a destination.

Ahead, brilliantly illuminated in the morning light, was a huge gray rock, larger than any of the nearby hills, crouched close to the Forest. Atop that rock were a small building and, a little bit further away, a stone tower. A few houses clustered at its base and it looked like there may be a bustling of activity there.

But, in truth, there was nothing really odd about that.

What was odd was that just ahead of them they glimpsed three figures walk out of the forest. The Haunted Forest. The Forest That Ate People.

They lost sight of them for a moment, as their own path took them around a small rise.

When they saw them again, there were only two.

One was a girl dressed in bright colors.

The second was dressed in creams and white, her simple pale surcoat trimmed with two stripes of gold.

That would throw even the most staunch Knight for a proverbial loop. Those were distinctive colors.

Had Pietro truly just witnessed a Lady of Attera walk out of the Dirkwood?

Pietro


Walking along, he and Lyric had been pointing out to each other the different sights, ordinary and unusual, obvious and less clear of meaning.

"I wonder me if Marketday comes a day late here in these parts?"

But then he paused and his sagged open slightly.

"A Lady of Attera?" He turned an incredulous look at his companion.

Keiko

As she stepped onto the Path, she heard the slow clop clop clop of a horse’s steps... just a single horse. That was interesting. Turning toward the sound, Keiko saw the horse... the man of Rames... and another young woman who looked to be near her own age.

“More visitors! How delightful!” she said to the healer, a hint of a laugh in her voice. “I don’t think these are the folks your Mikal D’Allyne is expecting. And I don’t know quite where our stalwart guardsmen are going to stack more people. But it would be a kindness to wait for them, don’t you think?”

Violet eyes turned to watch the newcomers as they approached. The man’s surprise seemed to amuse her for some reason.

Lyric

If there was any sense of wariness or unease, Lyric didn't show. In fact she seemed more curious than anything else. Her step quickened to include an occasional skip-step, maybe more like a hop to try to see around the terrain inconveniences.

"I don't know," she said eagerly. Her eyes were alight and her smile was broad. "But maybe we should catch up to them. To find out who they are, is all."

Perhaps a bit of caution would be in order, but it seemed Lyric had none.