Post by Brandwyn on Feb 25, 2019 0:29:51 GMT -5
A stop in Whitby
(started by TheOhioOne and Brandwyn)
OOC: (Whitby Fief year 665 - Open to all)
"Katrina, drop it!" Timothy glared at his companion with his bright blue eyes as they road into the village surrounding Whitby Castle. It was dusk and he was tired, hungry, cold, drenched, and in pain from the arrow wound in his ribs. "We should go straight up to the castle and report to the battlemaster."
His companion looked like a knight at first glance, until a closer look revealed a woman in her thirties dressed head to toe in chain mail and splinted plate armor. Her breast plate sported a silver charging unicorn on blackened steel that matched her rather tattered banner and scuffed up shield. She was riding a large white mare with black stockings and a long flowing black mane and tail. The horse's chest armor and splinted plate over her rump looked like they had seen a lot of battle recently.
The woman, Katrina, looked tired, but determined as she nudged her horse in close to Timothy's jet-black stallion. "I am tired, hungry and we look like a wreck,” Katrina replied calmly. “We can’t go riding into the castle looking like this.”
“Since when did you start caring about how you look to the nobles?”
“I don’t. You do.” She grinned at him. “You are a knight, with a reputation to uphold.”
Timothy snorted, “that’s a good one, Kat. You just want to put off reporting for duty.”
“Exactly.” Katrina rode up to the first Inn that looked respectable, knowing Tonnere, Timothy’s battlehorse, would follow her horse even if Tim tried to head on up the street. “We deserve a good night’s sleep and that stickjock sergeant up there is just going to send us right back out, and you know it.” Katrina dismounted, looking up at Sir Timothy. “We need a hot bath, warm food and some clean dry clothes. Even more importantly the horses need a warm mash, a good rest safe in a stall and a day of lolling in a good pasture.” She held Tonnere’s reins as the black rubbed his forehead against her shoulder as if to say, ‘yeah, what she said.’ Katrina waited, staring intently at Timothy. “Not to mention you need to have that arrowhead removed from your ribs.”
Timothy glared down at her before relenting and swinging his leg over Tonnere’s rump. “Fine. Fine.” He had to admit she was right, and he knew they would be given precious little time to rest if they just went back up to the castle. He grunted in pain as he landed on the ground and steadied himself against the saddle. “It hurts worse now that I am standing.” He said as he undid his pack and bedroll from the back of his saddle.
Katrina motioned him inside, “Go get us a room and send for someone to tend that wound. I will take care of the horses.” She led the two battlehorses around behind the Inn where a stable boy was waiting to help.
Timothy looked up and down the street to see who was watching them and then stepped inside the common room of the quaint Inn of the Broken Rose. The room was less than half full, mostly craftsmen and merchants catching an evening meal before travelling home from their shops. There were a few travelers and a couple of wide-eyed farmer boys, but no one that looked remotely like nobility. It was Timothy’s kind of Inn.
A once pretty woman, that Timothy guessed was just a few years younger than himself, bustled over and greeted him with a smile. “Greetings, Your Grace! Welcome ta tha Rose!” She did a graceful curtsy. “My name is Gracie; how can we be of service?”
Timothy smiled back and captured her hand, “a room for two for the night and a good supper, sweet lady!” he bowed and brushed his lips over her knuckles before releasing her hand. “My companion is stabling our horses and is going to want a hot bath first.” He moved to sit down at the nearest empty table, holding his hand over the wound in his side. “Can you send someone to fetch a physician or herbalist? Someone who has tended arrow wounds before and preferably NOT from the castle.”
Gracie’s eyes widened as she saw the hole in his tunic and the blood-soaked cloth around it. “You wait right there, Sir!” She turned and clapped her hands and started issuing orders to the four girls who lived and worked at the Inn.
Gracie stepped out the front door and motioned to a young man down the street, “Edger! Fetch a healer quick! There is a half-silver in it for you if you can find one without going to the castle. A knight has been wounded.”
She ducked back inside after she was sure Edger had heard her and checked on the progress of the cook and the scullery maids. In the midst of the bustle, a cup of warmed mulled cider was placed in Timothy’s hand and then Katrina’s when she came in and sat down beside him. Hot food quickly followed.
Gracie only blinked her eyes once in surprise when she found out the knight’s companion was a female knight. She wasn’t quite sure what their relationship was but hoped a single room with two beds was what they wanted. “Your bath is ready, Ma’am, in your room. Krista will show you which one.”
“Thank you, Gracie!” Katrina stood up. “I hope it won’t be long for the physician. Oh! And could you send a seamstress or dressmaker over? I know it is terribly late in the day, but I have nothing suitable to wear that isn’t drenched and half covered in mud. He is going to need that tunic mended too before we report to the castle tomorrow. Do you happen to know anyone, perhaps that can clean and patch up some garments for us during the night?”
“I can ask around, but I cannot promise anything at this late hour, Ma’am.” Gracie curtsied again then motioned Krista to show the Lady Knight where her bath was waiting. “Fetch her one of those lambswool robes, Krista.”
The women bustled off, leaving Timothy to sop up the last of his food with an excellent roll. He leaned back with a refill of the mulled cider and rested his head against the wall. Soon his eyes were closed, and he was half asleep.
(started by TheOhioOne and Brandwyn)
OOC: (Whitby Fief year 665 - Open to all)
"Katrina, drop it!" Timothy glared at his companion with his bright blue eyes as they road into the village surrounding Whitby Castle. It was dusk and he was tired, hungry, cold, drenched, and in pain from the arrow wound in his ribs. "We should go straight up to the castle and report to the battlemaster."
His companion looked like a knight at first glance, until a closer look revealed a woman in her thirties dressed head to toe in chain mail and splinted plate armor. Her breast plate sported a silver charging unicorn on blackened steel that matched her rather tattered banner and scuffed up shield. She was riding a large white mare with black stockings and a long flowing black mane and tail. The horse's chest armor and splinted plate over her rump looked like they had seen a lot of battle recently.
The woman, Katrina, looked tired, but determined as she nudged her horse in close to Timothy's jet-black stallion. "I am tired, hungry and we look like a wreck,” Katrina replied calmly. “We can’t go riding into the castle looking like this.”
“Since when did you start caring about how you look to the nobles?”
“I don’t. You do.” She grinned at him. “You are a knight, with a reputation to uphold.”
Timothy snorted, “that’s a good one, Kat. You just want to put off reporting for duty.”
“Exactly.” Katrina rode up to the first Inn that looked respectable, knowing Tonnere, Timothy’s battlehorse, would follow her horse even if Tim tried to head on up the street. “We deserve a good night’s sleep and that stickjock sergeant up there is just going to send us right back out, and you know it.” Katrina dismounted, looking up at Sir Timothy. “We need a hot bath, warm food and some clean dry clothes. Even more importantly the horses need a warm mash, a good rest safe in a stall and a day of lolling in a good pasture.” She held Tonnere’s reins as the black rubbed his forehead against her shoulder as if to say, ‘yeah, what she said.’ Katrina waited, staring intently at Timothy. “Not to mention you need to have that arrowhead removed from your ribs.”
Timothy glared down at her before relenting and swinging his leg over Tonnere’s rump. “Fine. Fine.” He had to admit she was right, and he knew they would be given precious little time to rest if they just went back up to the castle. He grunted in pain as he landed on the ground and steadied himself against the saddle. “It hurts worse now that I am standing.” He said as he undid his pack and bedroll from the back of his saddle.
Katrina motioned him inside, “Go get us a room and send for someone to tend that wound. I will take care of the horses.” She led the two battlehorses around behind the Inn where a stable boy was waiting to help.
Timothy looked up and down the street to see who was watching them and then stepped inside the common room of the quaint Inn of the Broken Rose. The room was less than half full, mostly craftsmen and merchants catching an evening meal before travelling home from their shops. There were a few travelers and a couple of wide-eyed farmer boys, but no one that looked remotely like nobility. It was Timothy’s kind of Inn.
A once pretty woman, that Timothy guessed was just a few years younger than himself, bustled over and greeted him with a smile. “Greetings, Your Grace! Welcome ta tha Rose!” She did a graceful curtsy. “My name is Gracie; how can we be of service?”
Timothy smiled back and captured her hand, “a room for two for the night and a good supper, sweet lady!” he bowed and brushed his lips over her knuckles before releasing her hand. “My companion is stabling our horses and is going to want a hot bath first.” He moved to sit down at the nearest empty table, holding his hand over the wound in his side. “Can you send someone to fetch a physician or herbalist? Someone who has tended arrow wounds before and preferably NOT from the castle.”
Gracie’s eyes widened as she saw the hole in his tunic and the blood-soaked cloth around it. “You wait right there, Sir!” She turned and clapped her hands and started issuing orders to the four girls who lived and worked at the Inn.
Gracie stepped out the front door and motioned to a young man down the street, “Edger! Fetch a healer quick! There is a half-silver in it for you if you can find one without going to the castle. A knight has been wounded.”
She ducked back inside after she was sure Edger had heard her and checked on the progress of the cook and the scullery maids. In the midst of the bustle, a cup of warmed mulled cider was placed in Timothy’s hand and then Katrina’s when she came in and sat down beside him. Hot food quickly followed.
Gracie only blinked her eyes once in surprise when she found out the knight’s companion was a female knight. She wasn’t quite sure what their relationship was but hoped a single room with two beds was what they wanted. “Your bath is ready, Ma’am, in your room. Krista will show you which one.”
“Thank you, Gracie!” Katrina stood up. “I hope it won’t be long for the physician. Oh! And could you send a seamstress or dressmaker over? I know it is terribly late in the day, but I have nothing suitable to wear that isn’t drenched and half covered in mud. He is going to need that tunic mended too before we report to the castle tomorrow. Do you happen to know anyone, perhaps that can clean and patch up some garments for us during the night?”
“I can ask around, but I cannot promise anything at this late hour, Ma’am.” Gracie curtsied again then motioned Krista to show the Lady Knight where her bath was waiting. “Fetch her one of those lambswool robes, Krista.”
The women bustled off, leaving Timothy to sop up the last of his food with an excellent roll. He leaned back with a refill of the mulled cider and rested his head against the wall. Soon his eyes were closed, and he was half asleep.