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Post by Admin on Mar 11, 2016 19:42:13 GMT
Our story begins with Eadwig sitting in an alehouse, deep in his cups, with an obnoxious patron loudly berating the keeper's draught...
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Post by Eadwig, the Bastard on Mar 12, 2016 13:31:38 GMT
Eadwig sulked in a dark corner of the tavern. Perhaps tavern was a rather grandiose term for the dank hole he had crawled into. He gulped down the dregs of his fifth flagon of ale, before stumbling towards the bar to get another. A rather large man was stood in Eadwig's path. He was using a chair as a podium, shouting bollocks about the cowardly natives, the poor ale in Bretain, and the quality of the womenfolk. Eadwig paid little attention, he liked to keep himself to himself, and continued on his quest for a sixth flagon.
Eadwig's cloak was heavy, made from bear fur acquired on the first, and only, hunt he had attended with his father. It swept clumsily along the floor behind him as he scrambled past the frenzied mob. He pushed through the front line, the bar gloriously revealing itself within his line of sight. He steadied himself and pushed onward, only to find his cloak caught on something. Undeterred, he pulled on his cloak, there was some give. And again, the same. With one more almighty effort he felt his cloak come loose, only to pull the chair out from under the large man's feet.
The once rowdy hovel was quickly blanketed in silence. The large man grunted and groaned as he attempted to return to his feet. As he stood, his look of confusion faded, and his eyes became transfixed on the bastard in front of him.
'You!!' He cried, half a shout, half a whisper, completely aggressive. He went for his sword, but Eadwig flipped open his cloak and revealed his own sword-wielding scabbard. In one rapid movement he drew his sword, before the large man could respond, took it up high and brought it down into the man's right shoulder. With an almighty crunch, the man fell to his knees, his collarbone was likely broken, and the blood that was already staining the filthy ground meant he'd probably severed an artery. Eadwig quickly surmised the man would not live. The shocked silence in the room slowly faded into murmurs and grumbles of discontent. One after one, those listening to the large man's speech began to unsheathe their own swords. Eadwig acted quickly, his cloak sweeping behind him, he turned and left the tavern quickly.
A number of men shouted angrily as they followed. Eadwig glanced around, thinking quickly, he drove his sword into the latch of a hitching post. Breaking it open, he released the horses kept there. Striking a few of the horses with the face of his sword, they quickly scattered whilst Eadwig himself climbed upon a remarkable specimen. As he tried to get away the men from the tavern tried to surround him. One was stupid enough to approach Eadwig's horse from behind, the horse kicked and the man fell to the ground like a stone. Another slipped on a pile of horse shit, Eadwig always found it curious that horses would be tied up right outside an alehouse. Seeing a gap he spurred the horse on and with a swing of his sword caved in the face of a third man before he disappeared into the darkness.
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Post by Admin on Mar 12, 2016 18:47:47 GMT
Eadwig is lucky to make it through the gate of what passes for Ottshaven's wall, with all hell breaking loose in the small town. He finds himself in the Ottshaven hinterland a land of small villages, and smaller farmsteads.
He crests one of the small, rolling hills that make up the south east of Bretain, and notices with some alarm a small posse of mounted men, not 3 miles behind him, going along at a swift trot.
It is at this point the Eadwig realises the seriousness of his situation... he is riding a stolen horse, pursued by a mob of angry (and seemingly well equipped) men, he is carrying nothing by way of food, and only a small skin of beer, heading into a completely unknown country...
Eadwig has killed a Thegn of Ottshaven, a warrior of some moderate renown in the area, what is more, he has stolen a most valuable horse...
He has no choice but to run, the question is, where? As the sun rises he can make out his position: To SSW lies the band, hot on his tail; he can see the to the East and West the open land become more wild and dotted with copses of trees, to the North, plains dotted with small farmsteads. A small river, the Ott, lies to his West, flowing SSW towards Ottshaven.
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Post by Eadwig, the Bastard on Mar 13, 2016 22:56:10 GMT
Eadwig glances to the West. His first instinct is to trade beer for water, and hydrate his horse at the Ott. He disregards his instincts however, heading West would give the men to his South West a good chance to catch up. To the North, he thought. He could trade some of his gold for food and water. If he were to rely on his skilled horsemanship, and trust in the stolen steed, he could reach a farmhouse and leave well before the band caught up to him. Choosing a relatively poor appearing farmhold (to avoid the potentiality of running into guards), Eadwig set off on his course.
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Post by Admin on Mar 13, 2016 23:00:04 GMT
The holding he chooses is poor indeed. A toothless peasant hails him from his field, "Hoy there, sir. These are my fields ye be tramplin'. What's the meaning o' this?", he eyes Eadwig beedily, "I don't want no trouble, sir" and mutters inaudibly "and you look like trouble to me, oh yes, oh yes."
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Post by Eadwig, the Bastard on Mar 13, 2016 23:03:48 GMT
"I will pay you gold, for any food and water you can feasibly spare, no matter how little. Let me feed myself and my horse. It is all I ask."
Eadwig will offer, at most, 15 pieces of gold in return.
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Post by Admin on Mar 13, 2016 23:06:50 GMT
"Well, a few crowns never go amiss... gimme a couple, and then be on your way"
Eadwig is given enough food for himself and his horse to keep going for a week, the peasant asks for 3 crowns, a bit steep...
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Post by Eadwig, the Bastard on Mar 13, 2016 23:30:25 GMT
Eadwig, who is slightly desperate, agrees to the peasant's price. He opts to head north towards Godenland where he may be able to escape the justice of Ottshaven. He reaches a hill and looks back, in order to discern where his assailants are now located.
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Post by Admin on Mar 13, 2016 23:35:44 GMT
His assailants are right on his tail, travelling at a pace. They remain three miles behind...
The road to Godenland is long, some 400 miles... and through country entirely unfamiliar to Eadwig. A not insignificant undertaking.
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Post by Eadwig, the Bastard on Mar 13, 2016 23:44:33 GMT
Eadwig takes note of how many men are on his tail. He decides to let his horse go as he rides behind the hill, dismounting and hitting it with the face of his sword, as he had done to many outside the tavern. He tracks back and heads West towards the forests. With any luck, those men tailing him will follow the tracks of his horse, minding little for the bastard's path.
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Post by Admin on Mar 13, 2016 23:46:11 GMT
The ruse is successful, by the time the posse find the horse, Eadwig has made the cover of the woods.
The posse, satisfied with recovering the valuable mare, make their way back the Ottshaven.
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Post by Eadwig, the Bastard on Mar 14, 2016 0:01:20 GMT
Eadwig, satisfied that he had not been followed rested his head. It had been several days of solid riding, so he slept. He dreamed of dragons and bears and not only his ability to fight then, but eventually to lead them. The woods were somewhat comforting in this way, he gained confidence in himself.
He woke, after a while, at noon. He looked from out of the woods and planned to head to a more wealthy steadfast. From there he intended to purchase a horse and ride to Wainbridge so he could again drink and eat his fill.
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