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Camp
Jun 23, 2005 19:34:22 GMT -5
Post by Sir Walter Godfrey on Jun 23, 2005 19:34:22 GMT -5
It was night-time. The torches of the camp watchmen flickered like fae in the waning moonlight. Tents had been pitched, and the banners of the white company had been dug into the ground. The entire camp was nervous for varying reasons. The first was the idea that they had been betrayed, which Jules constantly put forth for all to hear, naming the Queen's attitude and reluctance to help Sir Godfrey, even after his speech - even after charging her before God to help him. Others disagreed, believing that this was perhaps simply a misunderstanding that would be dealt with at a later date. Still another faction in the camp was hot with anger and wished to return and slaughter the magus who had done this to their captian. It was therefore that the camp was in three ways divided - To claim betrayal, to believe it a misunderstanding, or to retaliate immediately with no further talk.
"I don't like the odds," one of the more seasoned fighters ventured over the campfire, "We'd be slaughtered in a heartbeat. Did you see the garrison of that place? It would be suicide!"
"But they betrayed us! Insulted our honor! And the Queen - that harlot - stood by and watched, even talked with her ladies. Comrades, we cannot take this sitting down!" cried a member of the more violent-minded group. He was backed by a few loud cheers.
Jules, the squire, pulled his cloak tighter about him to ward off the evening chill. "We were betrayed, I agree, but we can't do anything about it now."
"We were not betrayed, it's all a misunderstanding. I heard that the last time Walter was here he was offered both room and board, as if he were a long-lost friend. Surely these arn't the same people, and the assassin was acting upon her own accord?"
"NO!" cried Jules, "I was here the last time. They looked upon us as if we were intruders, though we were only messengers! If anything, they were capable of ordering the Captian's death."
"All the more reason to kill them outright," spoke a young goblin, "They have insulted us! What self respecting soldier wouldn't return the favor!?" He was supported by his own faction again. The other two factions at least kept their heads.
"A smart one, that's what!" cried the pacifist side, "We can't combat those numbers! It's suicide!"
Having become sick of this constant banter, Jules rose, dismissed himself, and passed into Sir Godfrey's command tent, where he lay upon his bed - stripped of armor - pale as a ghost with a simple cross clutched in his hand. His mouth was moving as if he were saying something, but no words came out and the only thing that Jules could make out was in latin. He couldn't understand Latin.
Thankfully, Sir Godfrey's faith was keeping him held together properly. He was actually even starting to recover now that he was not in direct contact with the emerald which had cursed him or the witch that had so afflicted him. He still needed a lot of time, and there was nothing that anyone in the company could do to help him.
The encampment was within a forest, where normal calvary would be least useful. Fortunately, there were beasts within the White Company that were native to the forests. Were they to be attacked tonight, in force, perhaps they would die - but they would take threefold with them before the sun rose again.
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Camp
Jun 23, 2005 20:37:39 GMT -5
Post by Kahlan Lothair on Jun 23, 2005 20:37:39 GMT -5
Night had fallen with a blanket of mercy. The day's events were not far gone from Kahlan's mind as she stood in the doorway between balcony and bedroom. The arrival of Sir Godfrey without Sir Dorian and with the devil's own army at his heels had troubled Kahlan. It was, to her, a sign of wanton war. Despite their miniscule number, the entourage of Sir Walter Godfrey could inflict mayhem in the streets.
Truth be told, it had almost done just that.
With her eyes locked on the horizon, Kahlan allowed a small stream of power to trickle forth in an effort to scry out Hell's Minions (as they'd come to be called). An amused smile takes root on her lips at the thought. Not a mortal soul on earth understood what Hell's Minions were truely like. Not a single one. Sifting through the myriad bodies of the town and surrounding countryside, Kahlan finally latches onto the beacon of Martyr Godfrey. He was ailing from something unknowable just yet. Expelling a heavy sigh, Kahlan glances back into her candle lit room and began to scrawl a note that read as follows:
Amelia,
I have gone on an evening stroll. Should Willow seek me, ask her to wait for me in the garden in four hours time. I am in need of some information that cannot wait.
Kahlan
Folding the parchment just so, Kahlan lays it on the dressing table where anyone could find it. Finishing the letter off with a simple 'Amelia' on the front Kahlan moves to change quickly.
Moments later the Queen emerges from the closet wearing a pair of dark green trousers and an off white blouse paired with a dark green bodice. Finishing her ensemble off by braiding her hair, Kahlan steps out onto the balcony after snatching a light weight travellers cloak.
"Let me not regret this," Kahlan uttered through gritted teeth as she thrust the cloak over her shoulders and closed her eyes. Without moving her lips Kahlan began concentrating on the place where she most wanted to be. The outskirts of the encampent in which Godfrey was present. Whispers filled the air like the flapping of a thousand bat wings, and as the spell progressed, so Kahlan felt herself move. Finally, with the least bit of effort, Kahlan faded and the whispers stopped.
Appearing on the outskirts of the encampment Kahlan heard the words Harlot accompany her name and she lifted a brow. This from the likes of Orcish brutes. Wreathed in shadow and cloak, Kahlan steps out into the small encampment and eyes the hot debate before speaking up.
"What would you know of a Harlot?" Stepping into the ring of firelight Kahlan tosses her hood back so that her face might be seen. "I am ever so crushed at your judgement of me." Pressing a hand to her chest and pouting slightly Kahlan's sarcastic tone is only barely masked. Having come in after the heated arguements, Kahlan steps over a campfire in order to reach those men gathered. The ends of her cloak flare to life with a fiery vengence but she seems not to care as she stops within fifteen paces of the gathered creatures. Realizing the the cloak is aflame Kahlan snorts and shrugs her shoulders, returning her attention back to the men. Soon the fire receeds and Kahlan's cloak seems to have recieved minimal damage for all the fire's wrathful vengence.
"Were I all of those things would you not be festering in tomorrow's sun?" Quirking her brow, Kahlan manages to smile before inclining her head toward the group and eyeing the tent in which Godfrey is taking his reprieve. "Now, if you will excuse me."
Kahlan strode to the tent and before pushing her way through, knowing it would infuriate those present, she turned to the 'men' and blinked. "I will see what ails your commander." Were her simple words before lifting the flap of the tent and entering.
"Jules isn't it?" Kahlan murmurs as she removes her cloak, glancing over at the pallid Godfrey. "Think you to challenge me?" Turning a fierce gaze on Jules, Kahlan takes long strides forward to stand directly in front of the squire. "Your master ails, but all you have are angered thoughts. Think you not to lighten the mood? To make it easier for his spirit to return unblemished?" Kahlan turned her back on Jules as she took to a stool next to Godfrey and took his cross free rough hand between her own hands.
Return. Kahlan beckoned through the call of the souls. They hungered for a new addition but feared what she brought with her. Come to me, Godfrey. To Godfrey, Kahlan would appear to be wreathed in a golden light much like a beacon. What he wouldnt know is that she had done this many a time. Many, many a time.
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Camp
Jun 23, 2005 20:56:18 GMT -5
Post by Sir Walter Godfrey on Jun 23, 2005 20:56:18 GMT -5
At the appearance of the woman in question the entire camp stirred to life. Blades were immediately drawn, but a few other souls ran about urging people to place them back in their sheaths. Tensions were running high, and even some of the pacifists grew irate at the barely concealed sarcasm that this new addition flaunted. Clearly she underestimated the White Company, and though they were all as honorable as their professions and species could get, they were still rather rowdy and angry at each other, heated from debate. Even some of the wargs stood and growled fearsomely. Cries of 'Hang her, kill her!' and 'Quiet, let her speak!' echoed throughout the camp as she spoke, so that not many of her fair and witty words could be heard over the din.
She left just in time to disappoint two orcs that had taken the time to sneak up behind her to latch onto her and hold her down lest she flee.
Jules frowned, but allowed her nearer to Godfrey. Still, he kept a hand poised, inside his cloak, to draw his dagger should she prove untrustworthy. Jules was still of the mind that he had been betrayed, but grudging respect had to be given when a member of the Royal family would come onto an enemy camp under cloak of night, then so foolishly reveal herself in the middle of a mob that was 2/3rds uninted in the idea of killing her.
Jules watched in sudden, rivoting facination as Sir Godfrey's eyes opened and he sat up, looking about himself in stark amazement.
"By God," the knight exclaimed, "I've near touched death!"
The squire stood by quietly, confused in his amazement, as Sir Godfrey took the Queen's hand and kissed it.
"Surely none could have done this but by the power of the Holy Father," Godfrey concluded with such utter finality that Jules dare not dispute it, "Ma Dame, my life and my men are at your disposal should you need them."
"She healed the captian!" one of the guards at the tent door relayed to the others, who were as awe struck as the Knight's squire at the sudden turn of events. For a few more minutes, therefore, confusion again reigned in Sir Walter's encampment.
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Camp
Jun 25, 2005 20:34:38 GMT -5
Post by Kahlan Lothair on Jun 25, 2005 20:34:38 GMT -5
"You flatter a lady with your eloquence, Master Godfrey." Kahlan says as she rises from her seat on the stool. Amid the din of chaos outside the command tent, Kahlan turned to Jules. "You fear a lady when you ride with Orcs?" The devilishly handsome face of the Queen looms in the murky confines of the tent. "Lay your hand off of your blade squire. It is no longer an issue."
Once again turning to Godfrey, Kahlan manages a smile for him before sitting again on the roughly hewn wooden stool. "You are most kind, Sir Godfrey." Kahlan takes his willingly given hand and pats it soothingly. "I would that you would not flaunt your command in my capitol. Besides," Quietly tilting her head in the direction of the cheers and shouts, "They do not care much for me. You are the creature of habit they hold in high regard." Another smile and Kahlan rises to leave. "Rest, Godfrey, as you will need it."
Kahlan grabs her cloak as she moves to exit the tent. Turning to eye Jules one last time with breathtakingly colored eyes, the curious woman smiles. "You would be surprised, Sir Jules, how many things can work to your favor if you believe." With that she vanished through the tent flap and waded into the fray of orcish bodies and other hideous but well meaning creatures. When those gathered realized she was among them, they spread apart to take her features in.
The gall, the resolve, and the undying fire in the woman's eyes were indeed things to fear. As the spell of recall was twisted about her body without so much as a word, save the whisperings--
Kahlan vanished.
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