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Post by Cynesige ap Hyfaidd on Mar 14, 2016 1:09:54 GMT
The weather had cleared since the day of Cynesige's arrival in Cwmsych. He and his companions were walking in pleasant spring sunshine, feeling the warmth of the sun for the first time that year, like that of an old friend's embrace Cynesige ruminated to himself. Since their departure from Cwmsych, he had taken the time to ask the two boys' names: Geraint and Meurig. Despite their provincialism, they had proven surprisingly receptive to Cynesige's tutoring. He had discovered that they were already quite proficient small-game hunters, having succeed in catching a rabbit each on their first day of traveling. He was pleased as this would help eke out the provisions they were carrying. Nevertheless it was his intention to make soldiers of them, not poachers. He had instructed them to find young ash branches, and to fashion them into fighting staffs. When they weren't walking, he had spent hours teaching them some basic spear-fighting techniques. He was soon confident that if the situation arose, they could defend themselves adequately enough. They learnt quickly and were keen.
They had been travelling south-east for 3 days now. The landscape was of undulating farmland, characterized by areas of dense woodland, that of ash and oak mostly but with copses of poplar and beech also. They had passed through several small villages and hamlets, much like Cwmsych. They had not stayed however, preferring instead to avoid undue attention. That is of course until they reached the village of Brynmaesuchel. This settlement was substantially larger than any the group had passed through prior. It was for this reason that Cynesige chose to tarry here a while. He had two reasons, the first being to listen to whatever gossip was being spoken at the inn. He was still anxious that word of his exile had spread and that it may cause his enemies reason to search for him in this land. The second reason being that he had hopes of recruiting more men to his service.
In the meantime, the boys were instructed to set up a camp in the woods outside the village and to forage for food while waiting for Cynesige's return.
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Post by Admin on Mar 14, 2016 7:22:33 GMT
Cynesige approaches the gate in the pallisade hemming the village against the valley side. It is held fast on the inside, and won't give, event to Cynesige's shoulder.
He peers around for some clue as to what is going on, when the Judas hole opens, and a wizened face peers out at him: "Whaddaya want?!"
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Post by Cynesige ap Hyfaidd on Mar 14, 2016 12:01:33 GMT
"Ah, my good man! I am but a weary traveler, in need of some rest and a flagon of ale to quench my thirst. Thou needns't doubt my sincerity, look at my poor cloak and dirty boots, I pose your village no ill threat. Wouldst thou permit my entry and direct me toward the inn?"
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Post by Admin on Mar 14, 2016 13:10:40 GMT
"Alright, good sir, I meant no offense", he wheezes, "my job to ask questions around nightfall... all these queer folk abroad"
You squeeze through the wicket, and enter onto a sodden track between small paddocks, winding its way up to an inn, backing into the valleyside.
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Post by Cynesige ap Hyfaidd on Mar 16, 2016 7:39:23 GMT
Upon having sat and drank his fill of the local brew for an hour or a little more, Cynesige resolves to approach the barkeep in order to make a few inquiries.
"Barkeep, I must commend thou skills in brewery. Thou maketh a fine ale, I calculate the very best I have had for a great while. You seem a good and reliable sort, so perhaps thoust will help me. I have been away from this part of the country for a good few months now, and thus have not heard any of the local news for a time. Could thou furnish this poor sinner's ears with whatever news is abound these days?"
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Post by Admin on Mar 16, 2016 11:03:49 GMT
The propeitor is happy at a chance to gossip with a newcomer and he (with the help of whoever happens to be near him at the time) spills the beans on the supposed goings on.
The village is the last settlement before the Friedlander lands, the rest of the Wye valley being raided so heavily and so frequently.
The Count Ychrhyd recently sent riders to the town trying to raise a levy, but they were denied entry... one of the patrons curses the Count for a poltroon, having forsaken the north bank of the Wye.
"They'll be raising armies for another campaign against Portsmouth, you mark my words", says a patron, sagely, to little response. Bernicia and Portsmouth having been in almost a constant state of conflict for the past 30 years.
They then start questioning Cynesige, "what brings a decent sort like yerself out so far?", "where is it yer headed?", and realising no one knew, "what'd ye say yer name was again?"
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Post by Cynesige ap Hyfaidd on Mar 16, 2016 22:21:25 GMT
"My name is Seisyll of Hafod. I was raised as a retainer to a petty lord far to the north. I have fought in many a shieldwall but since then luck has left me and I have fallen on hard times. It was my intention to follow the Wye down as far as Portsmouth. I need work to earn my bread. I reasoned that Portsmouth would be the place where such work could be found. I have some experience in leading men and my sword arm is still strong."
He took a long draught from his flaggon.
"It makes no difference to me where I earn my bread. If these Friedlanders are causing thou as much trouble as thou sayeth, I wish to help. Is there a master to this village? If I were to speak to him, perhaps I may be of aid to you good folk."
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Post by Admin on Mar 17, 2016 23:10:42 GMT
"We ain't got a master", replies one of the peasants.
"We're more like an autonomous collective", adds another, "each of us takes in turn to act as a sort of executive officer for the week"
"But all the decisions of that officer have to be ratified at a sort of bi-weekly meeting", chips in the first, "by a simple majority in the case of purely internal affairs, a two thirds majority in the case of more imp..."
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Post by Admin on Mar 17, 2016 23:15:53 GMT
Once the peasants are quietened down you have the opportunity to speak to Alderman. He offers a bounty of 5 crowns for any Friedlander raiders killed, but admits that he doesn't know how "Seisyll" would be able to prove it.
He laments that he can't see the chance for the people to return to their lands further east of the village without some force to defend the land.
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Post by Cynesige ap Hyfaidd on Mar 19, 2016 17:26:54 GMT
"A bounty is all very well and fine but for such a sum, you are unlikely to attract warriors capable of the task. Luckily for you, I endure hard times, and thus am willing to work for such reasonable rates. I would be willing to stay a while and to fend off the Friedlanders were you to provide me the men I would need. How many live in this village? How many are willing to take up arms to defend it? Where are those that have fled from the East gone? There must be men destitute and desperate enough among them to join me.
"Were some men to be found willing to fight in my service in order to put an end to these raids, I would pay them well enough. Half a crown a week to begin with, not including provisions to feed them, that expense I will cover, as well as equipment if they should lack for weapons. The problem that I face is that I know not where to find such weapons in this area. Does a smithy service you here? Would he have weapons and armour to sell us?
"I would ask that word be put out among the householders that I am willing to take up the defence of the area, but that I require recruits and volunteers. Also, that I require a smithy to furnish us with weapons. Perhaps, if a smithy does indeed live in this village, he would be able to donate to us the items we require, it being in his interest for us to succeed in this task of teaching the Friedlanders a lesson they will remember."
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Post by Admin on Mar 19, 2016 18:57:51 GMT
The folk don't seem overly impressed with 'Seisyll', in his rusty mail, dirty, and smelling of travel. But they appreciate his sentiment. They offer to put the word about to gather the folk from the village and it's environs willing to take up arms.
The town has a smith, and a small stock of bows and spears. No armour, however, as they lack the craftsmen.
Four days pass, and the ragtag host is assembled in the village. The men (including Cynesige's farmhands), are equipped with spears and shields out of the local stores and smiths. The Alderman makes the point abundantly clear to Cynesige, that they are the town's men, and the town's equipment.
His ragtag band is assembled... 18 men with spear and shield. Cynesige's responsibility.
The band includes a tracker companion (Aeron) - he provides a specific local knowledge of the North bank of the Wye and tracking expertise
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