HWD: Lady Yurisdotter's Quest - Pietro, Cesare and Kadri - Sun 22/01/17 20:42 UTC
The Heartwood
The Dirkwood Forest
To the Stone Wall
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick
Cesare, Kadri, Pietro, Broke, Soft, Clever, Lockpick, Hard-To-Surprise, a pair of Rats and most of the Pack
“As soon as you can draw on your own travel cloaks.”
Clever answered Pietro sure and direct. The Rat was also correct; as soon as Cesare, Kadri and Pietro were ready he escorted them down the winding stairs, descending through Home and back out doors. They came into the morning light among the roots of the large, swamp surrounded tree, upon the makeshift arrangement of wooden docks and piers.
Others were waiting. All wore their own distinctly individual patchwork cloaks. The most active was the Guardian Pack, readying their armor and weapons. Like everything else in Home it was all darksteel Just on these docks this much metal was a wealth that would rival the coffers of Bordertown or Cragside. But here it was simply all they had to work with.
To one side stood a very tall and very slender Forest Kin. Her cloak was a bit unusual. It was made up of dark colored leather. In some ways it was reminiscent of a Montague cloak but with an important difference. Instead of being many shades of grey it was many shades of black. Clever made the introductions.
“This is our Lockpick. She doesn’t speak much. But do not worry. When she does, just remember she is one of us. She means no harm.”
He then nodded to a bigg’un, whose travel cloak was heavy wool with black metal fastenings. A piece of clothing obviously bartered for at their market day. He had wide set eyes and was straight out of the legends of the Second Age. Legends that spoke of witches dancing around a fire wearing helms decorated with antlers. Thus the woolen cloak made sense. This one was probably uncomfortable wearing deerskin.
“This is Hard-To-Surprise. He makes sure nothing comes through the Forest we are not expecting. If he says move, move. If he says be quiet, be quiet.”
Last were two of Clever’s Kin.
“These two? Well, it’s because on a Rescue you can never have enough Rats. Not that we are going on a Rescue today. But there may be Weasels.”
The coracles were drawn to the side and tied up. They would not be used today. It seemed Home had a small collection of punts. The small flat bottomed boats would be perfect for moving through the swamp and were used for fishing and similar day to day tasks by the Forest Folk.
They would be taking four of them. They all wouldn’t fit. It seemed that most of the Guardians would be shadowing them from shore. Not all of them were going. Broke, Wrath and Soft lead their escort. The black one called Wuff-Wuff and the Twins were staying.
It seems they never left Home completely undefended.
The trip up river was, for the most part, uneventful. But that did not mean it was without cause for concern. The deeper one went into the Forest the thicker the woods became. It was impossible to see more than a handful of feet past the riverbank. Every now and then one of their Guardians – the Tawny one named Flower or her white cohort – would appear at the river’s edge for a brief moment, reminding them that they were being watched. Clever also kept the boats relatively near to the banks. Even when they moved out into the river, so they would not pass underneath a set of overhanging ranches, they stayed with the range of One Fang’s bow.
One would think a branch would be the least of their worries. But when they passed close, the branches would move, the vines that hung from them would snake out, seeking the strangers inside their realm.
The wriver was neither blue, nor clear, nor green, nor any of the colors usually associated with water. The river was black and it looked like oil. The further they went the more the Forest itself seemed twisted and poisoned, as if with each passing moment they were getting closer to the Dirkwood’s dark heart.
“We do not know …”
Clever observed.
“We do not know how much of this is the Forest’s Curse or the fault of the Old Masters. The Curse is one thing, the Old Masters? They use things, they use them up and then just throw them away.”
Before the sun was even a quarter of the way towards noon they heard the dull roar of water falling. One turn later and the tree line moved back, the forest opening up and it was obvious that they had reached their destination.
Before them the broken and bare banks of the Blackwater rose up, creating a small ravine, perhaps thirty feet high and one hundred and fifty feet wide. Spanning the ravine, the source of the Blackwater was a solidly built stone structure. At first it seemed to be carved from a single piece of cold white marble. Only a closer look would reveal perfectly the fitted hairline joints between individual stones. It was a dam, and except for the size and craftsmanship, similar to those found across the mainland’s many mill ponds. Two spillways flanked a central tower, which had a crenellated top and an observation balcony, but as far as one could tell the structure was not occupied.
Loch Faast Keep - The Stone Wall
“Dwarves live longer then Men. Luckily for us, Dwarves prefer to stay within the keep.”
As they looked up they saw three of the Pack – Soft, Broke and a grey Guardian, sprint along the top of the dam and into the central tower. After a few minutes the grey wuff appeared at the balcony and waved.
“We can go up.”
Once the punts were safely dmoored, weel, that was when the strange thing happened. Pietro was given no time to decide how to get to the top of the dam before he found himself lifted from the ground and tossed upwards, very much like a child would throw a rock. Over the watchful eyes of the Forest Folk he arced upwards, from the ground to the balcony, held for a heartbeat above the stone and then – for the last few inches – unceremoniously dropped.
Cesare and Kadri were equally manhandled, for a moment knowing what is was like to fly.
When they arrived, Broke simply smirked.
“Rats.”
It took a little longer for the Rats and Hard-To-Surprise to join them. One of the Rats stayed with the boats.
The room beyond the balcony was more like a simple passage. The far side opened to a long bridge. On one side there was a door, made of heavy timber and reinforced by heavy black metal plates. It had a latch. As they watched the latch rattled and as if by itself the door opened. On the other side was the black-cloaked Forest Kin. She had opened the door. From the other side. That was probably why she was called Lockpick.
Beyond the door there were stairs leading up.
“Come …”
Clever led them to the top of the tower. Upon its ramparts one could look upon Loch Faast Keep.
The dam, obviously, created the lake. Just as shown on Tomomi’s map a long stone bridge lead from the dam to the Keep proper. The Keep was like a dam itself, but this one shaped like a ring. Along the ring were set several sets of odd structures. Each grouping was made up of two tall windmills, the blades slowly moving round and round. Between the windmills were two large wooden doors. They looked like sluice gates.
From the farthest two windmills, one on each side of the Keep ring, dark black smoke rose, billowing into sky like the land itself was bleeding upwards.
Clever shook his eyes and crossed his arms.
Loch Faast Keep - From Above
Loch Faast Keep - Keep Gatehouse
Loch Faast Keep - The Keep Proper
“Welcome to Loch Faast Keep.”
The Dirkwood Forest
To the Stone Wall
Attaday, the Eighth Day of Yrick
Cesare, Kadri, Pietro, Broke, Soft, Clever, Lockpick, Hard-To-Surprise, a pair of Rats and most of the Pack
“As soon as you can draw on your own travel cloaks.”
Clever answered Pietro sure and direct. The Rat was also correct; as soon as Cesare, Kadri and Pietro were ready he escorted them down the winding stairs, descending through Home and back out doors. They came into the morning light among the roots of the large, swamp surrounded tree, upon the makeshift arrangement of wooden docks and piers.
Others were waiting. All wore their own distinctly individual patchwork cloaks. The most active was the Guardian Pack, readying their armor and weapons. Like everything else in Home it was all darksteel Just on these docks this much metal was a wealth that would rival the coffers of Bordertown or Cragside. But here it was simply all they had to work with.
To one side stood a very tall and very slender Forest Kin. Her cloak was a bit unusual. It was made up of dark colored leather. In some ways it was reminiscent of a Montague cloak but with an important difference. Instead of being many shades of grey it was many shades of black. Clever made the introductions.
“This is our Lockpick. She doesn’t speak much. But do not worry. When she does, just remember she is one of us. She means no harm.”
He then nodded to a bigg’un, whose travel cloak was heavy wool with black metal fastenings. A piece of clothing obviously bartered for at their market day. He had wide set eyes and was straight out of the legends of the Second Age. Legends that spoke of witches dancing around a fire wearing helms decorated with antlers. Thus the woolen cloak made sense. This one was probably uncomfortable wearing deerskin.
“This is Hard-To-Surprise. He makes sure nothing comes through the Forest we are not expecting. If he says move, move. If he says be quiet, be quiet.”
Last were two of Clever’s Kin.
“These two? Well, it’s because on a Rescue you can never have enough Rats. Not that we are going on a Rescue today. But there may be Weasels.”
The coracles were drawn to the side and tied up. They would not be used today. It seemed Home had a small collection of punts. The small flat bottomed boats would be perfect for moving through the swamp and were used for fishing and similar day to day tasks by the Forest Folk.
They would be taking four of them. They all wouldn’t fit. It seemed that most of the Guardians would be shadowing them from shore. Not all of them were going. Broke, Wrath and Soft lead their escort. The black one called Wuff-Wuff and the Twins were staying.
It seems they never left Home completely undefended.
The trip up river was, for the most part, uneventful. But that did not mean it was without cause for concern. The deeper one went into the Forest the thicker the woods became. It was impossible to see more than a handful of feet past the riverbank. Every now and then one of their Guardians – the Tawny one named Flower or her white cohort – would appear at the river’s edge for a brief moment, reminding them that they were being watched. Clever also kept the boats relatively near to the banks. Even when they moved out into the river, so they would not pass underneath a set of overhanging ranches, they stayed with the range of One Fang’s bow.
One would think a branch would be the least of their worries. But when they passed close, the branches would move, the vines that hung from them would snake out, seeking the strangers inside their realm.
The wriver was neither blue, nor clear, nor green, nor any of the colors usually associated with water. The river was black and it looked like oil. The further they went the more the Forest itself seemed twisted and poisoned, as if with each passing moment they were getting closer to the Dirkwood’s dark heart.
“We do not know …”
Clever observed.
“We do not know how much of this is the Forest’s Curse or the fault of the Old Masters. The Curse is one thing, the Old Masters? They use things, they use them up and then just throw them away.”
Before the sun was even a quarter of the way towards noon they heard the dull roar of water falling. One turn later and the tree line moved back, the forest opening up and it was obvious that they had reached their destination.
Before them the broken and bare banks of the Blackwater rose up, creating a small ravine, perhaps thirty feet high and one hundred and fifty feet wide. Spanning the ravine, the source of the Blackwater was a solidly built stone structure. At first it seemed to be carved from a single piece of cold white marble. Only a closer look would reveal perfectly the fitted hairline joints between individual stones. It was a dam, and except for the size and craftsmanship, similar to those found across the mainland’s many mill ponds. Two spillways flanked a central tower, which had a crenellated top and an observation balcony, but as far as one could tell the structure was not occupied.
Loch Faast Keep - The Stone Wall
“Dwarves live longer then Men. Luckily for us, Dwarves prefer to stay within the keep.”
As they looked up they saw three of the Pack – Soft, Broke and a grey Guardian, sprint along the top of the dam and into the central tower. After a few minutes the grey wuff appeared at the balcony and waved.
“We can go up.”
Once the punts were safely dmoored, weel, that was when the strange thing happened. Pietro was given no time to decide how to get to the top of the dam before he found himself lifted from the ground and tossed upwards, very much like a child would throw a rock. Over the watchful eyes of the Forest Folk he arced upwards, from the ground to the balcony, held for a heartbeat above the stone and then – for the last few inches – unceremoniously dropped.
Cesare and Kadri were equally manhandled, for a moment knowing what is was like to fly.
When they arrived, Broke simply smirked.
“Rats.”
It took a little longer for the Rats and Hard-To-Surprise to join them. One of the Rats stayed with the boats.
The room beyond the balcony was more like a simple passage. The far side opened to a long bridge. On one side there was a door, made of heavy timber and reinforced by heavy black metal plates. It had a latch. As they watched the latch rattled and as if by itself the door opened. On the other side was the black-cloaked Forest Kin. She had opened the door. From the other side. That was probably why she was called Lockpick.
Beyond the door there were stairs leading up.
“Come …”
Clever led them to the top of the tower. Upon its ramparts one could look upon Loch Faast Keep.
The dam, obviously, created the lake. Just as shown on Tomomi’s map a long stone bridge lead from the dam to the Keep proper. The Keep was like a dam itself, but this one shaped like a ring. Along the ring were set several sets of odd structures. Each grouping was made up of two tall windmills, the blades slowly moving round and round. Between the windmills were two large wooden doors. They looked like sluice gates.
From the farthest two windmills, one on each side of the Keep ring, dark black smoke rose, billowing into sky like the land itself was bleeding upwards.
Clever shook his eyes and crossed his arms.
Loch Faast Keep - From Above
Loch Faast Keep - Keep Gatehouse
Loch Faast Keep - The Keep Proper
“Welcome to Loch Faast Keep.”