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Post by Brandwyn on Jan 11, 2009 11:27:55 GMT -5
Tory picked up the serving tray loaded with the roasted duck and cooked apples and struggled to calm her nerves and the butterflies in her stomach before she left the kitchen. “I can do this! Just walk up there, bow, and place the tray on the table.” She took a deep breath, held it and let it out slowly as she started to move out of the kitchen doorway and make her way to the head table at the far end of the huge dining hall. “It’s easy, really, just don’t spill the food” she muttered to herself under her breath. She did that a lot. At 13, she had not yet grown into the natural grace most women acquire, and was still clumsy, especially when she was the center of attention. She groaned inwardly as many eyes in the hall turned towards her and watched her progress up the hall. She could catch snatches of conversation as she passed by the tables one by one and knew they were anticipating their dinners. They encouraged her to hurry, so they could eat. No one was served until the head table was served the first course and the Baron took the first bite. Tory hated serving head table. She knew she was going to trip and the huge duck would go sailing through the air and land right in the Baron’s lap and she would probably get whipped if that happened. So she walked carefully, stately placing one foot in front of the other and staying in the middle of the aisle to avoid tripping over someone’s foot. Finally she reached the head table, did a very careful curtsy, not looking at the Baron or Baroness or anyone else at the table, and then gently set the tray in the center of the table in front of the Baron. She could not help a sigh of relief from escaping her lips and instantly looked up at the Baron in fear. The Baron just winked at her good-naturedly and dug into the Duck with his knife. Tory curtsied again, but as she turned to step back away from the table, her eye fell on a stranger sitting to the left of the Baroness and she froze. She had never seen anyone like him before. He was wearing astrange cloak that seemed to play with her eyes. The man was sitting back from the table in the shadows with the hood of the strange cloak pulled up over their head and most of his face was hidden. Tory got the strangest feeling the he was watching her intently. She dropped her eyes, disconcertedly and felt her cheeks blush as she turned and fled the hall back to the safety of the kitchen. She could have sworn she heard a low chuckle as she made her escape coming from that shadowy corner. Back in the kitchen, the cook did not give her a chance to recover her composure before he stuffed another loaded tray into her hands. Back to the head table she had to go. And so the nightmare continued for all seven trips she had to make until the feast was finally completely served. Each time she went to place a tray on the table, she couldn’t help but look at the stranger who seemed to blend into the tapestries hanging on the wall behind him. Each time she was sure he watched her and once she caught a strange smile on his mostly concealed face. It wasn’t until the last time up that she remembered a conversation she had overheard a couple years ago while dusting in the library of one of the local Manor Lords (which is where she normally lived when not “loaned out” to work at the Baron’s Castle.) The Lord was talking with a visitor about “the King’s rangers” and she remembered the visitor mentioning something about “those eerie cloaks” giving him the creeps. Her eyes darted towards the figure in the corner with recognition. He was a ranger! Unfortunately, during that moment of distraction, she missed seeing the soldier in the table right beside her stretch his leg out to relieve a cramp. His foot landed right in front of hers, and down she went – a perfect nose dive straight to the floor. The sweet cakes she had been carrying went sailing through the air, tray and all, as she desperately tried to hang onto them instead of trying to break her fall. She saw that at least two of them made it to the head table, landing neatly in the Baron’s plate. Then she hit the floor hard, slid on her stomach a couple of feet and came to a stop with her head hidden in the folds of her arms. She groaned softly, from pain as much as embarrassment, and waited for the crowd to start laughing at her. 8
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Post by Tandar on Jan 13, 2009 14:12:24 GMT -5
Patrick watched the serving girl from the corner draped with tapestries. His hooded ranger cloak masked most of his expressions, leaving a mysterious air about him. Because of his rank as Ranger of the Meric fief, he had managed to get a seat at the head table next to the Baroness.
Eying the graceless figure as she retreated to the kitchens, he thought about what a good ranger she would make. Her petite size would work well to her advantage. Meanwhile, his stomach growled audibly. He frowned slightly, wishing the girl would hurry so they could all just eat.
Behind him, Patrick had leaned his massive crossbow against the wall, situated in such a way so that he could reach it in a second or two should the need arise. To keep himself from getting bored, the ranger studied the intricate design of vines and flowers on the silverware.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the food was served and Patrick began to eat. The duck was to die for. Just when things were starting to get boring again, a pair of sweet cakes came flying toward the Baron.
The crowd laughed uproariously but managed to reduce themselves to stifled giggles after a moment. Patrick raised an eyebrow, wondering if he should go and help her or remain where he was.8
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Post by Brandwyn on Jan 13, 2009 20:00:27 GMT -5
Tory buried her face in her arms until the laughter died down and then slowly moved to stand up. As she pushed up off the floor she felt a terrible twinge on her left side in her ribs and her breath caught when she inhaled. “Ow!” The exclamation, though soft, hurt almost as much as trying to inhale.
‘Oh great!’ she thought as she tried to inhale. ‘I hope I don’t have a broken rib again.’ It had taken forever to get over the one she had gotten two years ago in a fight with the two boys that normally bullied her on a regular basis. She noticed her elbows and knees were bleeding. Her pants were ripped at the knees and she thought there might be blood trickling down from a cut on her chin.
She tried to stand, but couldn’t seem to get enough air in while taking shallow breaths to keep her ribs from giving her sharp stabbing pains.
Then she noticed the Baron motioning to someone to lend her a hand. She looked around the hall and noticed that most of the people had gone back to eating and chatting amongst themselves, except for one couple two tables back from the head table on the right side of the hall. She froze in fear as she saw the anger flashing in her Mistresses’ eyes.
Her Mistress, the Lady of Colburn Hall, was a cruel woman and Tory both hated and feared her. Any time Tory embarrassed the Lady Elthane, the Lady’s Chatelaine, Korrin, would whip her. Any time she displeased Elthane, she would get whipped, no matter how trivial it was. Over the past 13 years she had lost count of the number of times and the number of lashes. It was now a battle of wills between her and Korrin as to how much she could endure before she screamed or passed out. She’d had enough of it, but wasn’t quite sure how to get out of the situation.
Then she saw Korrin approaching her from the side, knowing he would drag her from the hall and the whipping would soon follow.
Her eyes narrowed in anger, the fear gone. She ignored the pain in her ribs and in one fluid motion stood up while pulling a forbidden 8-inch long dagger from her right boot. She brandished it at the Chatelaine.
“Stay back!” she said softly, noticing the whole hall had gone quiet. The oversized tunic she was wearing had dropped off her left shoulder and she new some of her whip scars were visible to those sitting at the head table. That bothered her, she didn’t like anyone to see the scars, but she didn’t move to cover her shoulder.
There was steel in her eyes and a barely controlled anger in her voice, “you will NOT touch me EVER again!” she managed to say forcefully, in spite of the pain in her side. As she threatened her tormentor, her eyes flicked to Lady Elthane, including her in the warning.
She would rather die than go back to live in the manor and continue the tedious life as a servant. She wasn’t sure if she would kill to prevent that, but she was determined to leave her home now, one way or the other.
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Post by Tandar on Jan 19, 2009 14:46:21 GMT -5
Events were unfolding almost too fast to follow. One moment the girl was on the floor enduring the pain and embarrassment, the next moment she was up and wielding a long dagger with steel in her eyes. The ranger was surprised, although he didn't show it. He had learned long ago to mask most of his emotions.
As the tunic slid down and revealed the scars on the girl's shoulder, Patrick stiffened in his seat. Clearly, the girl had been abused and had been holding in her anger. Now that anger was breaking free.
Palisade had never been a good negotiator. Although he knew the skill could come in handy, he would much rather take a shot at a target than talk them down. He remembered a young man he'd seen at the Gathering Grounds a couple years back. The fellow was only an apprentice at the time, but he could talk a bandit into surrendering his sword.
Patrick couldn't bring himself to shoot the girl; it's not even entirely her fault that she's brandishing a blade at people. She was driven to do it, judging by her scars. He felt sympathetic toward Tory, but he'd rather cut off his hand than admit it. Patrick's gruff personality wouldn't allow such emotion to show on the outside.
Ranger Palisade stood up. The room was dead silent and his voice rang out a little louder than he'd intended. "Miss, come with me."8
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Post by Brandwyn on Jan 20, 2009 21:02:02 GMT -5
(OOC - I am sorry - this one is really, really long... I will try to shorten them up a bit. I just like to write and get carried away...)
Tory jumped when she heard the loud, gruff voice, “Miss, come with me.”
She wasn’t sure who had said it and quickly shot a glance over her exposed shoulder while keeping the point of her knife trained on Korrin’s fat stomach. Korrin had frozen just a few feet from her with his hand outstretched when she first produced the knife. He had a smug look on his face at first, but now he was looking at the head table not at Tory.
Tory saw the ranger standing up and figured that was who had spoken. He didn’t look too happy either. In fact he was a bit frightening actually with that grim look on his face.
She chewed on her lower lip while pulling her tunic back into place with her free hand, not sure exactly what to do. She really hadn’t thought this through at all and her options seemed quite limited now. If she went through with her threat, she had no doubt she would be whipped, or imprisoned or worse. The Baron would not allow a servant to harm a nobleman, no matter what. Besides that she didn’t really want to kill Korrin, she just wanted him to stay away from her, never touch her and certainly never whip her again. She just wanted to leave this castle and Colburn Hall and never have to go back. She fought down tears as the anger threatened to overwhelm her. She refused to cry in front of everyone.
Perhaps this ranger was someone who could help. The rangers were supposed to be answerable to the King, not the Barons from what little she knew about them. Maybe she could appeal to him to get released from Colburn’s service. After all, her father was noble born, a man-at-arms in this very castle. That meant she wasn’t tied to the land like her mother was, at least she thought that was how it worked. It might be different because her parents had never married, but maybe there was a chance, another option… maybe she wouldn’t have to live the rest of her life in this wretched place.
She lowered the knife point a slight bit, watching Korrin closely to make sure he did not advance any further on her while she considered the possible outcomes of this situation. Very few of them looked promising. It seemed an eternity passed while everyone in the hall was staring at her. ‘What a nightmare!’ she thought in agony.
She looked back at the ranger again, trying to make up her mind. He might be a bit scary, but she was fairly sure that if she went with him, Korrin would not be able to lay a hand on her, at least not right away anyhow. She had not yet hurt anyone, so if she went with the ranger maybe she would be spared a beating.
She looked at Korrin and then at Lady Elthane and the anger rose up again. Unconsciously she raised the knife tip up again. Then she looked back at the ranger standing there, expecting to be obeyed. Tory thought that it would probably be a bad thing to make him angry.
As far as she could tell she had three options: One, she could drop the knife and go with Korrin, ‘out of the question’ she thought to herself; Two, she could try to fight Korrin and likely would end up dead or at best in the Baron’s dungeon with no future whatsoever, ‘definitely not a good option’; Or three, she could lower the knife and go with this mysterious ranger and hope he didn’t just turn her right back over to Korrin, or do something worse to her.
‘Oh well, I suppose I can just run away if he sends me back to them.’ She thought as she finally decided. Tory slid her homemade blade back into her right boot into its hidden scabbard that she had made at the tannery, not nearly as smoothly as she had pulled it out.
Of course she had forgotten momentarily that her ribs felt like she’d been kicked in the guts by a mule and winced in pain as she bent over and grasped her left side with that arm. She was fairly certain she had at least one cracked rib.
Tory started moving towards the ranger but kept an eye on Korrin in case he made a move towards her, putting more distance between herself and the fat chatelaine. She was finding it very hard to draw in a deep breath to make herself heard, not that it mattered since you could hear a pin drop in the room.
“Ok, Sir, I will … come with you.” She pointed to Korrin, “as long as that … fiend stays away from me.” She spoke softly, gasping out the phrases. “That goes for the … Lady Colburn too.” She watched with satisfaction as many people in the hall looked at Lady Elthane when Tory pointed at her. Elthane was livid – too angry to squawk out a protest.
Tory stepped further away from Korrin and towards the ranger, and then realized that she had completely disrupted the festive occasion. She blushed bright red as she caught the Baron’s eye. The Baron was standing up also and he had lost the jolly look on his face. He seemed to be more surprised than angry though.
She did not want everyone to think of her as a spoiled brat or worse, mentally unstable, so she tried to curtsy as best she could while clutching her ribs with her left arm. “Your Excellency… I apologize for my … clumsiness … and disrupting your … feast. Please forgive me.” She bowed her head to him, but did not wait for his response as she resumed the short distance to the end of the table where the ranger stood.
She tried to wipe the blood running down her chin and neck off with her right hand as she walked towards the ranger. Her footsteps got a bit slower as she got closer to him. He really was a grim figure and she was not at all sure if she was getting herself into something worse than what she was trying to get out of. She squared her shoulders, though, and tried to look determined and dignified, well as dignified as she could in her current bedraggled state with tears threatening to overflow at any moment. She held her head up and looked the ranger squarely in the eye, trying to make him as well as herself believe she wasn’t afraid of him. She didn’t think it was working too well…
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Post by Tandar on Jan 22, 2009 17:46:49 GMT -5
Although he wasn't angry with Tory, Patrick put on a grim face (as was expected of him) and picked up his crossbow in his right hand. With his left hand, he lightly but firmly pushed the serving girl in front of him as he headed out the door.
The ranger hadn't shaved in a few days, so the stubble on his face enhanced his gruff and rough personality. Once they were in the corridor, Patrick closed the door behind him and glanced both directions down the hallway to make sure they couldn't be heard. He held out his hand. "I don't think you're supposed to have that." He eyed her right boot.8
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Post by Brandwyn on Jan 23, 2009 6:51:10 GMT -5
Tory flinched when the ranger touched her back to guide her out of the hall, but she relaxed a bit as she realized his gentle touch was in contrast to the grim look on his face. That surprised her enough to distract her from her impending doom, at least momentarily anyway.
She wasn’t surprised, however, when he held out his hand for her knife. She knew that was coming and could hardly blame him. He probably thought she was deranged and didn’t want to take any chances on her pulling the knife on him – not that she would be stupid enough to try that – no way! And of course there was that stupid rule that servants were not supposed to carry weapons. Not that she was exactly a servant, but he could hardly know that.
She hung her head, “I am sorry, Sir. I never should have done that…I just…” Tory sat down on the floor, flustered, and pulled her boot off and then pulled the scabbard out of it, knife and all as she tried to fight down the tears, not looking at the tall, muscular man looming above her. When she got her emotions back under control she said, “I just couldn’t stand … the thought of another … whipping tonight,” she whispered as she put her empty boot back on.
Then she stood up and tentatively looked him in the eye. As she handed him the still sheathed blade she said a bit more firmly, “Sir, I want you to know… that I didn’t steel this knife.” It was very hard for her to relinquish the blade, but she managed to hand it over.
“I made it. The Smithy’s apprentice taught me… It’s not a great blade – the balance is all messed up …and it doesn’t hold an edge along the one side.” She pointed to that side of the knife. “Master Smith said if I was his apprentice… he would have made me melt it down and start over… but he thought it was good practice for his apprentice to teach someone, …so he let me make it and then let me keep it.” She was babbling. She did that when she was nervous, only it was worse now because the pain in her ribs made it difficult to talk. She thought she sounded like an idiot. Tory looked back at the floor again, wondering what her fate was to be.
She couldn’t bear to be sent back to Colburn and felt panic at the thought. “Please, sir!” she implored him. “Please don’t send me back to Them. Please take me with you? Just to the next town – just far enough where they won’t come get me or be able to find me. Please?” She couldn’t believe she was asking a grim-faced man to take her away from the only life she had ever known. But she sensed something in him that told her she would be safer with him than with the Lady Colburn.
She cast around for some reason why he should take her along with him. “I can cook for you … and wash and mend your clothes…and take care of your horse… I won’t be a burden, I promise!” She looked back up to see what expression was on his face, the tears still threatening to spill out of her eyes. “Please?” she whispered again, her left hand pressed firmly against her throbbing ribs, hoping he hadn’t noticed that particular problem.
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Post by Tandar on Jan 27, 2009 17:08:29 GMT -5
Patrick stood listening intently to what Tory had to say. He couldn't really blame her for how she had acted. Needless to say, he kept his emotionless mask on the whole time.
When she handed him the dagger she had made, the ranger examined it. He could tell by the shoddy workmanship that she hadn't stolen it. Nevertheless, he confiscated it and hid it deep within the folds of his cloak.
As he watched her face, he noted the momentary expression of pain that she tried to hide. He also noted that she was clutching her rib cage.
"Listen, I can't take you with me. You'd only be in my way. Besides, I work best alone. I'm gonna leave it at that and trust you to go get that injury checked out on your own time." Ranger Palisade nodded toward her ribs.
Patrick turned his back on Tory and strode down the corridor toward the exit. His horse awaited him in the stable. 8
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Post by Brandwyn on Jan 28, 2009 6:15:20 GMT -5
Tory slumped her shoulders in defeat as he dismissed her. She knew it had been a long shot, but she was very disappointed. Before she could make a protest or argue her point, he was gone.
Then a random thought flitted through her mind, ‘weird that he is leaving at night. Most people like to travel in the daylight, but then rangers aren’t like most people, I guess.’ She dismissed the thought and chewed on her lower lip again, still pressing her side with her arm.
Then the panic set in. What was she going to do now? She couldn’t go back home, not now. The beating she would get now would pale in comparison to all the past beatings if they had been rolled into one. She might not even survive it.
She knew she only had a few minutes to make up her mind before someone came into this hallway and took her choice away from her. ‘What to do? What to do?’ She pondered, leaning against the wall.
A plan was beginning to form. It was probably a very bad plan, but it was all she could come up with.
She was going to follow that ranger.
Maybe if she stuck close enough to him on the trail that he could hear her screams if she got in trouble, she might just make it to the next fief in one piece and find employment or something. She didn’t know much of anything about life on the road, but she did know that young women traveling alone were likely to never arrive at their destination. She needed that ranger’s protection to get her out of here, whether he wanted to give it or not.
She ran down the hallway and slowly cracked open the door. She needed to make sure of where the ranger was headed before she made her move.
She looked around the darkened courtyard, lit only with torchlight from the walls of the Keep. 'Is he headed for the stables?' she wondered, figuring that he would go there to get his horse, but she wanted to be sure...
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Post by Tandar on Jan 28, 2009 15:57:49 GMT -5
Patrick headed straight for the stable, his cloak billowing behind him. When he stepped outside, a gale buffeted him and blew the cowl off his head. It was unusually windy. The ranger studied the sky as he crossed the grounds. By means of the faint moonlight, he could make out dark clouds gathering—an early sign of a storm brewing.
He entered the stable and went to the stall where he had left his horse, Caliber. The dark bay stopped eating and nuzzled his master as Patrick picked up his saddle and prepared for the trip to Redmont. He had important information to deliver there.
The Ranger mounted Caliber and set off into the night at an easy trot.
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Post by Brandwyn on Jan 28, 2009 17:53:12 GMT -5
(OOC - another super long one here)
Tory saw the ranger walking purposefully towards the stables, his cloak billowing out behind him in the buffeting winds. He was looking at the sky. Tory glanced up at it too. ‘Great,’ she thought. ‘Just what I don’t need, a storm.’
She closed the door softly, her mind made up, and clutched her side and rushed down the servant’s corridors to the storerooms below the kitchen. She rummaged quickly through stacks of clothing in one room, picking out some warm items and a pair of warm boots and heavy cloak. She rolled those items up in three blankets and tied it with a bit of string. She found an empty travel pack and raced into the other storeroom that housed food and wine. She started stuffing items into the bag, knowing that without her knife, living in the forest was going to be difficult at best. She felt vulnerable without her knife and scowled, “Don’t know why he had to take it…” she muttered under her breath. “It’s not fair.”
She grabbed some bandages and some herbs, but didn’t take time to clean her cuts or bind her ribs. She had to hurry now. Then she found a scrap of paper and wrote a quick note to the head cook and pulled out a silver coin to pay for the items she had taken. She thought it was a good thing she had brought what little money she had with her to the festival in the hopes of doing some shopping after her chores were done. At least now she would not be totally bereft as she set out on her own. At the bottom of the note she wrote, “Please tell Mother and Father I love them and will write to them, Tory Waterton.” She placed the note on a barrel behind some bags of flour with the coin on top of it.
Then she went back up into the kitchen and retrieved her shoulder bag containing another change of clothing and her journal as well as a few other personal items she carried around with her when she was sent to the castle to work. She never knew if she would be staying overnight at the castle or not, so she tended to come prepared to stay.
Tory had hoped to get out of the kitchen unseen, but that hope was shattered when she heard the head cook say, “Where are you going, Tory?” She wracked her brain for a good excuse. “What are you doing with all that stuff?” Cook asked suspiciously. Suddenly a plausible lie popped into Tory’s head that would get her out to the stables.
“To the ranger, sir! He requisitioned some supplies, but is in a hurry to leave.” Tory waved the pack in the cooks face. “I have to hurry!” Tory didn’t wait for the cook to ask any more questions before she scooted out the back door into the courtyard. She dodged quickly behind the barracks and then slowed down to peak around the end of the barracks at the stables. She figured he was still there, saddling his horse. Surely she hadn’t missed him already, it hadn’t taken but five minutes or so to gather the stuff she had needed.
Tory pondered how to cross the courtyard from the Barracks to the stables without being seen. It was about two hours past sunset now and the moon had not yet risen, so it was fairly dark in the courtyard except for the torches lit along the walls at regular intervals. She took the dark cloak she had acquired and threw it over her back and pulled the hood up to hide her fair skin and light brown hair. The wind was really picking up. Tory hoped the rain held off, or better yet, blew over. Tory picked out her route across the courtyard, hoping the ranger didn’t come out of the stables until she got up next to it. Once she had it in her mind where she was going, she darted swiftly from one patch of shadow to the next, pausing to lean against the oak tree that was just 20 feet from the front corner of the stable to listen. All was quiet except the wind whipping her cloak around her feet.
Then she found herself leaning up against the stable wall in the deep shadows. She crouched down low and listened to the sounds inside the stable while she tried to figure out exactly how she was going to follow this ranger.
She didn’t want to steal a horse. Horse thieves were normally put to death – usually it was not a pleasant death either. She didn’t own a horse herself, so what to do? If she followed on foot, he would leave her behind before half the night was over. She had been working all day, so was already tired and with her ribs throbbing like they were, she knew following on foot was out of the question.
Then she remembered her Father’s old stallion, Dodger. He was semi-retired, but still pretty spirited. Dodger was in the paddock around on the other side. She had seen him there earlier in the evening and had gone out to say hello to him. She had ridden Dodger many, many times and could steer him with nothing but the pressure of her legs and shifts in balance. Taking Dodger wouldn’t really be stealing, would it? Her father didn’t ride him anymore and let Tory ride him whenever she wanted to. She thought of Dodger as her inheritance, if her Father were free to give her an inheritance anyway. She didn’t think her Father would mind, as long as he knew what happened to Dodger.
Tory listened a few more moments leaning against the wall near the front end of the stable, but in the shadows along the side. She thought she heard a low whicker and the sound of buckles jangling together. She couldn’t see for sure, but she thought the ranger had just finished saddling his horse.
She quickly made her way along the stable wall around the back end, ducking between the boards that made up the paddocks around the outside of the stables. As she worked her way around the stable she talked softly to the horses to calm them as she passed into each new paddock. Most of the horses knew her. She hung out here all time. Only a couple horses were unknown to her, brought here by travelers to the festival. She was able to keep them quiet with a soft word in their ear or a pat on the nose or neck. She never had trouble with animals, they trusted her because she trusted them.
She had just made it over to Dodger’s paddock when the stable door opened and the ranger rode out to the main gate. He hailed the guard and they opened the gate and let him out. Tory had frozen in a crouch when the door opened and Dodger had moved over to nuzzle her head while she watched the ranger leave the castle.
Dodger was wearing a halter and Tory had managed to snag a lead rope hanging from a board during her trip around the outside of the stables. She clipped it on to his halter on the far side, looped it around his neck and tied the other end off on the near side of his halter, making instant reins, not that she really needed them.
Then she took her piece of hardened charcoal in her bag and scrawled on the stable wall, “Father, I rode Dodger home. I was too sore to walk. I will get him back to you tomorrow. Tory.” Hopefully that would throw people off her trail, at least for a few days. It was likely that this note would be found immediately in the morning, but her note in the storeroom could take days to find. She had not left it out in the open. She hoped to be too far away for them to find her by the time they found the note.
She opened the paddock gate and led Dodger through it, shutting the gate behind her. Then she climbed up onto the fence and over onto Dodger’s back. He seemed surprised. He turned to look at her with a look that made her think he was wondering why she was taking him out at night. She patted his neck, reassuringly. “Come on, buddy, we can’t let that ranger get too far ahead of us. I think his horse can probably outrun you over the long haul.” She said softly while trying to settle into some comfortable position her rib could live with.
Now one more obstacle was in her path; the gate with the guard. Tory thought that trying to sneak through the gate would be the quickest path to getting caught, so she decided that the opposite would be the best plan. She was going to ride right up and bluff her way out.
She knew most of the guards and tonight was no exception. She rode up to them and pulled her hood back from her face. “Hi Lenny, Hi Sam!” She motioned to the gate. “Do you mind letting me out? I need to get back home to Mother tonight. Oh, and if you see my Dad, can you tell him I borrowed old Dodger here? I will bring him back tomorrow.”
Sam and Lenny didn’t seem to think anything was amiss. “Sure Tory, we’ll pass it along. You ok? We heard you took a spill tonight.”
‘Great,’ thought Tory. ‘It didn’t even happen a half hour ago, and it is already all over the castle.’ She hunched over the horse’s shoulder a bit. “Well, I am ok, but I got all scraped up and I hurt pretty badly. That’s why I am borrowing Dodger. Not sure I can walk the whole way tonight.” She played up her fatigue. “See you tomorrow!” She waved to them as she rode through the gate and then they closed it behind her.
Tory quickly scanned the ground to see the tracks left by the ranger’s horse. They were easy to pick out at first. He was the last one to leave, so his tracks were on top of the others. Besides, there was only one way to go until you got to the crossroads a mile up the road. He must be moving quickly, because he was already out of site.
She tried to follow quickly, but had to keep slowing down to made sure she didn’t loose the tracks. She did not want to get too close so the ranger either, because she did not want him bringing her back and knew he would hear Dodger clopping along behind him.
When the woods closed around the trail, it got so dark it was very hard to see the tracks. The wind was whipping shadows from the tree limbs all over and the temperature was dropping. The rain would be coming very soon. She had to slow down even more and she kept stopping to listen for the sound of hoof-steps up ahead to make sure she wouldn’t ride up on the ranger unawares, yet a sense of urgency filled her, she didn’t want to loose him at the crossroads.
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Post by Tandar on Jan 31, 2009 22:07:09 GMT -5
As the ranger reigned in at the crossroads, the overcast sky began to pour down water. He pulled his hood on tight in a frantic attempt to stay dry. The sound of the rain drowned out all other sound and, combined with the darkness, significantly reduced visibility.
Patrick nudged Caliber and the ranger horse obediently carried its rider into the shelter of the nearby woods. The thick trees protected Palisade from the full force of the driving rain that washed away any sign of his passing. He sat atop his mount, watching the path as he waited for the rain to abate.8
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Post by Brandwyn on Feb 1, 2009 9:27:43 GMT -5
Tory figured she was about one bend in the road away from the crossroads when the bottom dropped out of the clouds and sheets of rain poured down. Lightening sizzled through the air near her, striking the ground in the woods not too far away. The thunder was deafening and Dodger jumped sideways.
Tory easily kept her seat and leaned forward to speak to the horse, “Easy Dodger. It’s ok.” The stallion danced around a bit and tried to run, but Tory was holding him back with the makeshift bridle. They rounded the bend at a collected canter. Dodger was actually turned diagonally in the road, but moving forward, his right front hoof leading each stride. It was a classic dressage gait, but not one that Tory particularly cared for him to be making right now. She couldn’t see the tracks when he was going this fast.
The rain was obliterating the tracks in the road, causing little rivulets of water to merge them all into one muddy mess as she approached the crossroads.
She managed to pull Dodger back down to a walk as she approached the intersection. She stuck to the stallion’s back with ease, in spite of the horse’s agitation at the storm. She leaned over and examined the ground, trying to pick out the ranger horse’s prints in the road that was threatening to become a stream instead of a road in the heavy deluge.
She slowly rode Dodger in a circle along the edge of the crossroads, looking for prints. She was concentrating more on the road at first, but after the first circuit when she didn’t find anything, she went back around and looked along the edges of the road. The rain had soaked through her cloak and was running down her neck and back. The wind whipped it around and blew spray up into her face. She had to keep wiping her face off to be able to see.
“Drat! This would sure be a lot easier in the daylight and without all this stupid rain.” She mumbled and Dodger whickered in answer, tossing his head and trying to dance away back towards the castle again. “Easy boy, calm down now.” She soothed and the stallion settled back down, though his ears were back. He didn’t like storms.
Tory was drenched clear through now, and her ribs were burning, but she ignored the discomfort. She leaned over, scanning the ground. She pulled Dodger to a stop, staring at the ground. “Yes, that is definitely from his horse,” she murmured as she saw a hoof print filling up with water. It was pointing off into the woods, but all other tracks from his horse had already washed away.
Tory turned Dodger to walk alongside of the path that the ranger must have taken, scanning the ground for more prints. She didn’t see any. She looked up, peering through the trees. Suddenly Dodger stopped, his ears pointed forward as he sensed something she couldn’t see.
The wind shifted and then she caught the scent of oiled leather. ‘Drat, I’m still too close to the castle’ she thought in momentary panic. ‘He’ll try to send me back.’ But it was too late now to avoid him. He had obviously seen her scouting the road for tracks.
Though she was terrified of how angry he was likely to be, she felt a strange calmness, like it didn’t matter anymore. Like nothing anyone could do would ever touch her again. She wasn’t going back home. It didn’t matter to her what he said or did, she wouldn’t be sent back. If he didn’t take her with him, then she would set off on her own. Dodger was a trained battle horse. As long as she was on his back, no one would be able to physically touch her. She would be fine.
This newfound sense of independence allowed her to address him calmly, her face impassive.
“Hello Ranger.” She said calmly even though she still couldn’t see him in the trees, she knew he was there. She waited for his fury to roll over her, just like the rain was doing.
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Post by Tandar on Feb 1, 2009 12:18:05 GMT -5
Under the shadows of the trees, Ranger Palisade and his steed were practically invisible. He had been watching the serving girl as she followed his tracks at the crossroads. He hadn't expected her to follow him this far. He had underestimated her potential.
"Hello Ranger," she said.
A flash of lightning briefly illuminated Patrick, clad in his dark cloak, unmoving atop Caliber. Thunder rumbled in the sky uncomfortably loud.
"You're getting soaked. Put this on. Keep yourself dry." The ranger tossed Tory a cloak--a smaller version of his own camouflage one.
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Post by Brandwyn on Feb 1, 2009 21:11:49 GMT -5
The lightening flashed and Tory finally saw the ranger briefly as he tossed her a bundle, then he was virtually invisible again, even though she knew exactly where he was sheltering under a big tree.
She was surprised. He hadn’t sounded angry and she had thought he would be. She unfolded the bundle and saw it was a cloak like his, only a bit smaller – a ranger cloak.
Tory fingered the material for a moment and then dropped both reins to throw it over her shoulders, wincing a bit at the movement. Dodger plunged sideways a couple steps when she let go of the reins, but she stopped him with some leg pressure. “Steady boy,” she said softly to him and he settled down, flicking his ears back to her and in front of him at the ranger and his horse. She picked the reins back up and looked warily at the ranger.
“Thanks. That is much better.” The ranger cloak was definitely doing a better job at shedding the water than the old black one she was wearing underneath it had. She was still soaked to the skin in places, but already she felt warmer.
“You don’t seem too surprised to see me.” She moved Dodger up a little closer, but not too close. She didn’t want to get within reach, just in case he was planning on dragging her back to the castle. She wondered what he was planning to do with her now.
“I was wondering – “ She broke off, feeling a bit foolish. She left the sentence hanging and concentrated on keeping Dodger under control. After a few moments she decided to throw caution to the wind and blurted out her question, “how does one become a ranger?”
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