(1867-10-09) The Mothrose Massacre
The Mothrose Massacre
Summary: An expedition into the countryside of Four Corners ends in a discovery of mothrose and a massacre of some hapless bandits.
Date: 1867-10-09
Related: None
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Anelie  Havelock  Jarret  Myrana  Zayne  

Four Corners - Outskirts
A glade in the countryside near Four Corners.
1867-10-09

Its a gorgeous day to be on the road! A few days ride from Four Corners in the rolling countryside of rivers and fertile hills, there's been a rumor of a rare healing plant growing in huge bounty along the roadside near the famous hotsprings of Vanille: Mothrose, a variety of rock rose which may be used to make the famous and dreadfully expensive 'Lady's Mercy' ungeunt. Its known as a miracle cure, preventing both infection and scarring if applied to wounds, and to even reduce existing scar tissue over time.

The road here is quite rocky as it dives down into a gulley between hills, alongside a chattering river that tumbles down the stones and criss-crosses with the road almost randomly so that horses are constantly wetting their legs in shallow fordings. Pretty, wild apple trees are here and there, and the roadside is littered in places with fallen fruit being inspected by bees and more flighty wildlife that bolt away at the sound of the party.

Myrana rides along with the silver toes of her riding boots peeking out of the froth of her skirts, sitting with a horrendous slouch sidesaddle as she's writing in the little journal balanced atop her upper knee where its resting on the saddlehook. She is not even looking where she's riding, but sort of assumes that her horse knows well enough how not to fall into a ditch and break its legs.

This is because she is used to her warhorse, Sage.

This is not her warhorse. This is a palfrey, and a very pretty brown one, but its not Sage. The palfrey sticks to the other horses like glue and rolls its eyes nervously at every little rustle in the leaves and tumbling rock.

"Hey, what's another good word for 'breathless'?" she asks, suddenly.

Havelock is one such rose-gatherer, clad in his Reliant finery and armour, there is no mistaking his allegiance to the Holy Order that has broken apart from the Mother Church, anathema and heresy (and false murder charges) notwithstanding. Sat atop Grendel, the grouchiest horse that ever grouched, munched apples, or bit the face off enemy barbarians up north, Havelock scans the road ahead, while giving ample attention to the lands eitherside, with the occasional glance behind. One has to be careful after all.

"If the rumours are true, we'll be fortunate to find any left, if said rumours have flown further afield.", Havelock offers, one hand guiding Grendel with the reins and the other resting lightly against the hilt of his lightsilver warhammer, the weapon hanging heavy against his left hip, "But I have faith…" Myrana's question does bring the Reliant up short, the dirty-blond fellow looking across to Myrana with some measure of curiosity, "Winded? Blown? Lathered? I don't know."

Staying quiet as he looks around, Jarret shrugs a little as he listens to the others. He's got his normal armor on, and keeps his hands near where he keeps the poleaxe. "The best one would be 'dead'," he remarks to Myrana, with a bit of a shrug.

Anelie has somehow gotten roped into traveling with a group of strangers she's never met and a deserter reliant heretic. Still she's been well enough behaved for the situation, doing her bet not to give any wierd looks and act uncomfortable, just trying to remember that she's here to gather the Moth-rose to better serve others as a reliant, and right now she's far more occupied searching for the herb than her eclectic group of companions.

Myrana looks over at Havelock. "L..lathered?" She seems slightly shocked at the suggestion. "That s- Oh er, that is. Yes." She clears her throat and puts the wrapped stylus back to paper. "Thank you." Ahem.

A massive yet leanly built light charger trots along beside Myrana's palfrey. Zayne's pitch black house Rage lives up to his name trotting along with long stomping strides eyeing the other horses in warning not to get too close and yet his rider seems to be able to keep the beast in check easily. The Lord and Mercenary rides along beside Myrana clad in his armor and carrying his greatsword strapped within easy reach. He is here to guard not pick flowers. A brow raises at the question and he considers Myrana. "Dumbstruck? Or maybe stunned speechless?" He peers at the little book she is writing in curiously as the ride along.

"Horse terms." Havelock blurts having noticed Myrana's shock, "Horses!" As if repeating that word makes everything better, "Anyways, I am sure the One will provide. Roses. That is. As opposed to words." A gentle stretch and Havelock's saddle creaks as he rises just enough to catch, twist and pluck an apple from an overhanging branch, the rosey fruit rubbed against his warcoat for a few moments and no doubt intended for Grendel later, "Dead is the most final form of breathlessness though, good one Sir Jarret." A smirk offered the Sokar.

Myrana clears her throat a second time, very primly. "Sometimes," she says, in the tones of someone imparting a great wisdom, "A person lets out a breath after they've died." Its a burp. She's talking about escaping post-mortem gasses. But mostly she's trying to win an imaginary arguement.

If Zayne leans over far enough, he sees that she's writing what looks like a page of prose… But she sees him peering, and snaps the book shut, muttering something about a mosquito (in the beginning of autumn).

"Lady al'Callenta, I believe they're supposed to be just ahead," she says, addressing Anelie.

Jarret smiles, "I knew you'd appreciate it," he offers to Havelock, before he goes back to looking around. Eyes narrowing slightly as he studies their surroundings.

Zayne is leaning over a bit and reading whatever is in the book when Myrana snaps it shut. He glances to her with a grin. "Don't be embaressed Tiny Boss…just let me read it properly later okay?" He turns away for now scanning the area intently and going back to doing his job and keeping an eye out for danger.

Anelie nods quietly and ofers a small smile over her shoulder at the woman, myrana being one of the few people on this trip that she doesn't have any predisposition to dislike or avoid thankfully. "Very good, it qill hardly be the end of the world if we can"

Anelie nods quietly and ofers a small smile over her shoulder at the woman, myrana being one of the few people on this trip that she doesn't have any predisposition to dislike or avoid thankfully. "Very good, it will hardly be the end of the world if we can't find them, i simply thought it was worth a shot to try and use it to help others," she comments with a breif flicker of a smile in her normally distant expression.

As they round the bend past the apple trees a glade opens up somewhat, flooded with cool autumn sunshine. Across the ford, a cluster of mothrose grows… or grew. Much of it has been harvested, leaving cut brambles everywhere.

Huge stones come up out of the deeper parts of the water over there, overgrown by moss and lichen like a patchwork of grey, white and green on the reddish boulders. It looks like a good place for swimming, and faintly one might smell the minerals of a nearby hotspring… though where exactly it might be is not precisely obvious.

Myrana tucks the book into her pocket and gives Zayne an embarrassed look, whatever he might have to say about it, and finally picks the reins of her palfrey back up and urges the horse into the water. It splashes into the water nearly up to its belly, as it isn't a particularly big steed, and Myra looks around curiously at the rocks and grasses growing on the other side as her horse picks its way forward.

Havelock eyes the surrounding lands and follows after Myrana as she splurges deeply through the water on the Myrana of steeds, while Grendel keeps the holy knight a good deal above the surface of the water's surface. Yet the knight smiles, pointing towards some flora a ways up, "And there we have some, if I am not mistaken." And Grendel is guided as close as one can get, before dismounting and gazing up at the oh so high rose.

Zayne catches the embaressed look from Myrana and just smiles warmly, playful and completely unrepentant. Although he likely ment no harm by his teasing either. As they enter the glade he scans it intently. His sharp eyes picking up tracks on the ground and he swings down out of his saddle. Carefully he moves to investigate the tracks keeping one hand on the reigns on his every grumpy looking charger Rage. After a moment he frowns and then moves to swing back up into his saddle. "Keep your eyes open everyone. A bear has been here recently." And then he steers his horse into the water, following Myrana once more.

Watching the animal tracks, Jarret frowns, before he shrugs a little as he hears Zayne. "Oh, you've been here before?" he asks the man, with a brief grin, before leading Kholstomer onwards as well.

Anelie nods softly and chuckles as she dismounts her horse whilst her eyes never leave the desired plant perched above. She hesitates for a moment before shrugging and leaping up to grasp the top of the boulder and lifting herself up with an average amount o effort before indulging in a celebratory irst pump into the empty air, before regaining that ducal decorum of hers and kneeling down to examine the plant further.

The mothrose is growing up in a crack in the rocks. There's quite a bit of it, but its hard to reach. Anelie is able to climb up without too much difficulty, though she may have barked a knee in doing so, but her efforts are rewarded. Its sepals are grey and fuzzy (which is where it gets its name, and its petals are a soft, pinkiish white about a center of deep yellow. The smell is quite lovely, if a little acrid when they're harvested; the brambly, unthorned talks are tough as leather and dig their roots deep into cracks in the stone.

Myrana dismounts on the other side and pats her horse's neck, looking around. "Well, we'll leave before it comes back, right? It must've eaten what it could reach…"

Zayne eyes Jarret with a raised brow and a look of amusement. "Not that I remember but those are fresh bear tracks, thats telling enough for me." The d'Rana lord turns back towards where he is guiding his horse. Rage stomps through the water at a brisk trot and once they reach the other side Zayne dismounts once more. A nod is given to Myrana but Zayne still scans the area once again now, alert for bears and whatever else that might be here.

Frowning as he listens, Jarret grimaces. "Did you hear that?" he asks, as he moves to dismount as well, pulling out his poleaxe to keep it ready.

Havelock takes a moment or two to survey the surrounding land, while Anelie clambers up towards the roses, though something evidently spooks the Reliant as he turns and throws himself up the rockface, putting himself between Anelie and something he has clearly just seen, "Long cannon! That aways! Get down m'lady!" A veritable charge to put himself between noble blood and a ball of less than noble metal. A flailed gesture towards the long cannoneer, an attempt to put himself in harms way, metal grates on rock and the Reliant gives his back to the attacker if all goes well!

There's a curse and a loud CLACKK from the rocks over in that direction. Everyone hears it, even if nobody but Havelock spotted the man crouching in the cover of the rocks with a long cannon trained on the ascended Anelie. He fumbles with the gun and touches the ember to the wick—

KABOOM!!!! «<

A shower of rock comes cascading down on the hidden man, or what's left of him, as the long cannon explodes, taking his face and arm with it. The rocks take care of the rest, and the stream is quickly alive with shrapnel hitting the surface of the water.

Anelie had been contently collecting whatever of the herb there was in the crack of the rock, for once rather grateful for the slender hands her high upbringing granted her. She is therefor a bit suprised at the shout from havelock, but wastes no time doing as instructed and leaping down from the rock as shrapnel zooms over her head.

Havelocks cry about long cannons have Zayne quickly unsheathing his greatsword and moving into a protective position near Myrana. However the man isn't aiming for her and before Zayne can charge at the attacker he is take care of by rocks. Zayne stands between Myrana and the explosion doing a good job of shielding her from harm but he takes a hit from few nasty bits of rock that pelt his giant form. Most of the shrapnel hits his chest or left arm and he takes it with a grunt but no further acknowledgement. He remains positioned to shield Myrana his greatsword held at the ready in case of more attackers.

As things go boom, Jarret manages to cover himself a bit, but still get hit by a bit of shrapnel, although the armor takes most of it. Letting out a few choice words that probably are quite offensive, he looks around, poleaxe held at the ready. "Does no idiot around here get professional help these days?"

Yay explosion! Havelock may well not have taken a bullet, but he certainly takes some brunt of the explosive fallout. The Reliant's graceful charge is cut somewhat short in a most untimely manner as shrapnel slashes against his armoured frame, shrapnel destined for Anelie. The plate armour thankfully affording some measure of protection, though given his helm is stowed away with Grendel, Havelock lifts an arm to protect his face, receives a nasty gash across his cheek despite his efforts, scrapes awkwardly against the rock and slides, falls and crashes to the roadside in a most ungainly manner as rock patters and pings about him. What few curses might have been heard are lost amidst the noise of metal grating against rock and the dull thump of knight rolling against roadside. Concious, just not all that graceful as he seeks to push himself up to his knees, "Well that was… ow."

Myrana gasps, and flinches down instinctively in a whirl of skirts, ducking her head down and covering herself with her arms. Her palfrey screams as a shard of stone from the grouping that hit Zayne flies past his shoulder and strikes the horse in the head, startling it and sending it crashing off upstream in terror. Myrana is indeed saved from the worst of it, struck only once in the leg just above the top of her thin leather riding boot.

In the pattering, dusty silence that follows, a shout is heard: "Well, YOU try finding someone who knows how to use the fuckin' things!!"

And bursting out from cover, a group of startled bandits appear, choking in the dust and coming to level spears and swords at the stunned group: "Hand over your money!" Says the leader of them, a bigger man with a huge burn scar on his face and neck. He's missing a tooth up front and he spits it out, coughing. "And the ladies!" They were also caught in the radius of the explosion, but these people drawn to the rumor of the healing herb look rich, and these are professionals. Sort of.

Zayne chuckles at Jarret's comment as he rolls his shoulders a bit to loosen them up after the blast subsides. "I do believe thats becuase me and my company are already employed." He grins faintly and then the bandits show themselves. The leader is met with a wicked smirk from the giant d'Rana lord and the brigandine clad giant takes a single step forward with his greatsword at the ready. "If you think you've found easy prey, I will be happy to correct you." He looms a moment for intimidating effect and then proceeds to charge the men.

"I meant professional fighters, not professional clowns," Jarret shoots back at Zayne, before he straightens, offering a bit of a light grin to the burn scar man. "Well, come and get it? Let us see if you are more than that idiot with the cannon, hmmm?" A brief pause, as he grins. "I have to warn you, the last guys who tried ended up bleeding on the ground, but what can I say, that's life, isn't it?"

Havelock spends a moment or two pushing himself back up to his feet, leaning against the rock as he does so, "You know…" He coughs, clearing the dust from his lungs and dabbing a gauntletted hand against the bloodied gash upon his cheek (those tavern wenches love a good scar, shame about the vow), "We're a holy party seeking the rose for healing unguents, this needn't turn to violence!" Such an attempt at diplomacy is however not exactly aided by Zayne's charge nor indeed the waving of a great big sword, "I'm Knight-Reliant Sir Havelock Synn, let us tend to your wounded and bury your dead now, before we have to bury you all!" Though, even as he speaks, the dusty lightsilver is drawn from its loop upon his belt, "I implore you, let the One find the courage in your hearts to lay down your weapons!"

One of the bandits, one of the ones at the back, waves the dust from his face… and goes shock-white. He drops his shitty sword and turns to flee, stumbling over rocks in his way and crashing through the undergrowth.

Zayne doesn't bother to respond to Jarret's remark about his skills in battle. He just decides to prove it one way or the other. He charges in like a raging bull greatsword prepared to strike at the leader of the group. If his actions happen to have caused one of the men to flee…well that just means less blood on his armor later.

Myrana stays where she is, gripping her leg just below the knee to stem the stream of blood gushing out over her boot as her companions fall on the bandits.

The bandits rush at the party (except for the one that fled at the very beginning) and half their number falls dead at once, gutted and crushed. It happens so fast that the other two don't realize what's happened, and press the attack again, changing their targets as they move past where the others fell, spear and sword wielded in a confusion.

Fortunately for them, but maybe unfortunately for everyone else, the explosion carried a long ways; a number of men seemingly from the same company who had been further upstream come running towards the battle, shouting and yelling at their companions and scrambling to get there in time.

Dodging one attack Zayne swings his blade at the leader of this disorganized group. His expression is rather disdainful as he advances on the man as he switches targets trying in vain to fend off the group. "I would say you should be more careful when you pick your fights…but I don't do that either, I'm just a better fighter." And then he twists his blade coming in a wide arc gliding swift through the air in an attempt to sever the mans neck and seperate his head from his body.

Havelock's entreaties are clearly ignored and not being one to wait for common sense to arrive, he seeks to bash sense into the bandits the old fashioned way. The dusty, and bleeding Reliant wades into the fray with seemingly little care for his own being, the lightsilver warhammer wielded with a certain degree of skill and finesse, "By the One, it didn't have to end this way!" And with a fierce swing, Havelock crushes a bandit's head, skull and brain and the sodden crunch and glomp of matter about hammer signal the demise of one as the light fades instantly from the brain-dead bandit's eyes. A yoink of the gore-smeared hammer and Havelock picks his next target, just as the skull-smashed bandit staggers and falls weightily and oh so dead to the ground, "The One is with us!", the very words uttered darkly to the next bandit he advances upon, "You have been judged…"

With precision, Jarret smashes his poleaxe into the nearest enemy, taking a few moments to pull the weapon out again, before he goes for another. "Less chatting, more work," he comments to Havelock, with a shake of his head.

Myrana pushes herself back up to her feet, blood streaming down the side of her boot and leaving a one-sided track of red footprints as she staggers forward and drags Ardaigh out of its sheath at her hip. Its not fast going for her today, not one bit, but she staggers out of the way of a bandit coming after her and pivots neatly on her good foot once she has space, tucking up the wounded one with a slight bend of her knee. One-footed fencing? Great! She waves the cutlass for balance and invites her attacker to come, looking a little haggard under the shock of white bangs.

It is a hefty blow that Havelock delivers in passing to the bandit, shaking the man's brain a bit, but not to the extent of the previous bandit, whose crumpled skull is a shining example to bandits everywhere as to the penance of banditry. Moving through the attack, carried by graceful steps the weave past failed attempts to strike him, the bloodied Reliant fixes upon the next bandit, as he leaves the other to the deadly ministrations of his colleagues, "They deserve to know their sins before they die, their souls will not sit beside the One in the afterlife. They will lurk in darkness for eternity!" And with a swing, Havelock seeks to introduce the next bandit to such an otherworldly fate, "Leave none alive, the goodfolk of this land deserve to be free of this ilk." So much for those diplomatic tones earlier.

Frowning as one enemy manages to get in a small hit on him, before going after the same enemy as before. After all, he likes finishing up one job before beginning the next. There's still no shouts or anything from Jarret, before he shakes his head a little as he hears Havelock's words, but doesn't comment.

Anelie is very focused on the battle at hand to indulge in the playful banter some of the rest of the group is indulging in, but this has the added effect of making her strikes that much worse for the enemy and her most recent chops the bandits leg clean off and leaves him to bleed to death as she targets her next foe.

Zayne growls in annoyance but its directed at Havelock instead of his enemy who is still managing to stay just out of reach of Zayne's blade. "Who gives a damn where they supposedly go when they are dead. Dead is dead." Zayne lets his irritation fuel him now and there is no pause to his attacks, they just grow more violent.

Myrana is… actually remarkably balanced and nimble, standing on one foot and smacking aside the attacks of the bandit she's facing. How is she not on her ass? YEARS AT COURT! But she's not landing any blows, for all her efforts.

"Though the shell is empty, the soul is a different matter entirely." Havelock replies as he slams his warhammer against the bandit's chest, no doubt a rib or two crack and crunch under the blow, but the man remains upright, a tad breathless and a hint pained. Which means Havelock seeks to whack him a second time to improve his lot in life, yet not in death. And yay, Havelock falls silent for a moment as he swings and turns and brings his attack to bear!

Shaking his head a little as he listens, Jarret keeps on attacking his opponent, taking the man down as he pushes the head spike of the poleaxe through the eye of the man. "Look out…" he mutters, as he places one foot on the throat of the fallen enemy to pull his weapon free again. Turning for the one that has been trying to attack him, he shakes his head. "Bring it on!"

Hopping backwards a step and nearly putting her bad foot down, Myrana waves out once hard to the left with her cutlass for balance to keep herself from falling over, then brings it back in in the same motion, slicing deeply with a horrible sound through the man's jaw and opening his face up like a horror. The bandit screams, and slaps his free hand up over his jaw to keep it in place, and turns his attack viciously on the young woman, gurgling and choking on his own blood.

Zayne's greatsword finally finds its mark. Slicing deeply across one bandits chest. There is a spray of blood, red gore splatters across the ground and stains Zayn's armor and blade but thankfully no visible organs can be see as the man goes down with the force of the blows rained down on him from Zayne and the others assisting.

As the last bandit falls, Havelock steps away to survey the carnage and stow away his bloodied weapon. His own attack merely snapping a few ribs within the bandit's chest, hardly the glorious skull-crunching of before. But effective nevertheless when combined with the joint effort of Zayne's bloody sword and Jarret's pokey polearm. To gaze upon the fallen, with naught but a gouged scratch upon his cheek and even that was the result of a shard of rock, Havelock exhales and falls into prayer, offering up each soul regardless of his previous words. Where the soul ends up, well thats for a higher power to determine and Havelock merely sends each on his way. No doubt ready to bury them, once all is said and done.

Nodding as the last enemy has gone down, Jarret kneels down next to him, taking a few moments to use the man's clothing to wipe his poleaxe clean of blood and gore. "See, finally became useful," he remarks a bit lightly, before he gets to his feet again.

Myrana blows out a breath as the bandit that she was trying to fend off at last falls into a bifurcated pile, shaking a little from the strain of fighting on one leg. "J-jeez," she wheezes, and looks around, wobbling a little with her cutlass still held out for balance. "Are all of us alright?"

Zayne cleans his greatsword off and then lowers it as he casts a glance around the area to make sure there are no more surprises. "I'm fine Lady Myrana and I suspect Lord Jarret wouldn't admit it even if he was hurt." Jarret gets a faint smirk and Zayne starts over towards Myrana as he moves to sheath his massive blade once again.

Anelie shakes her head and sighs as she cleans off her own sword before moving over to myrana with a gentle smile. "Sit down my lady, let me tend to that for you?" she offers gently.

"No, I'm not all right. I'm getting tired of only having to fight fools that doesn't have any skill," Jarret replies as he kicks at the corpse in front of him, a few very hard kicks. "Why can't we for once get a real challenge." Ignoring that little scratch through his armor that caused a little blood earlier on.

Myrana obeys Anelie at once, though she does ask for help in sitting down without also pitching right onto her ass with the grace of a drunken hedgehog. "That Sokar would tell you his head was still on at the bottom of the chopping block," she grumbles, and tries to help Anelie pull off her boot and peel down the stocking so she can pull out the big piece of rock shrapnel lodged above her knee. Leaning on the gathered folds of her riding skirts, she chews on the inside of her cheek and generally gets in Anelie's way by trying to see what she's doing.

Zayne chuckles at that comment. "Careful Lord Jarret, words like that can lead to danger..or really fun challenges." He looks amused and takes up a position near Myrana offering a grateful smile and a polite incline of his head to Anelie as the woman offers to heal the other lady.

Anelie chuckles and shakes her hed with a rather motherly patience for the antics of the woman as she goes about removing shrapnel, cleaning, and binding the wounds. "You're going to need to be carried around for a bit but you'll live, don't worry," she ofers with a giggle.

Myrana looks like she's been told she's going to LOSE HER LEG.

"Couldn't I just hobble?" she asks, very seriously.

There's a brief pase, and Jarret looks over at Myrana. "Ah, just walk it off," he remarks, rather lightly.

"See, the wise and sagacious Lord Sokar has a good idea," says Myra.

Zayne looks at Myrana and then to Anelie and smiles faintly, amusement showing in his eyes. "Don't worry, I can carry her if need be." As Myrana protests Zayne gives her a stern look. "I'll have you know I'm perfectly capable of carrying you my Lady. Even if we go into battle I'll just put you on my shoulders and as long as you hang on you'll be fine."

Myrana hunches her head down grumpily and gives Zayne an evil look from under her bangs. But she also doesn't complain further. Because Anelie is nice and she's very possibly been shamed into good behavior for once

Jarret just shakes his head a bit, as he looks around. Another brief pause, and he kicks the corpse again.

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