Haral Joins the Band

[Te'Oran]

  Haral Orahn stepped into the common room of the inn he had chosen at random upon entering the city of Caemlyn. He was worn and weary from his travels throughout the region and was definitely not in a jovial mood. With an exasperated sigh he threw himself onto a random wooden stool by a round table of the same make and ordered a drink from one of the serving maids, tossing a small silver coin towards her. She caught the coin and with a wink and a giggle, bowed slightly and set off towards the kitchen. Watching her disappear into the back Haral threw his legs out under the table and leaned back in the chair, beginning to nod off into a daze . . .

 

  After a short while he sat up as the serving made came back, a pint of ale in hand, and slid it onto the table in front of him. He nodded to her in thanks and gripped the handle of the stein, bringing it up to his lips. The ale sloshed up onto the brim and down into his throat as he tilted it back. Haral had not had a good pint of ale in a while and he had missed it for sure. Suddenly he sat up with an inquiring look upon his face, he noticed a few men in military attire standing over in a corner sharing drinks and having a laugh with one another. Their uniforms were odd to him, he was almost sure he had never seen one of the sort before.

 

  With that thought left hanging, Haral turned his attention back to his ale and drank the last bit off it in one swig. He called the serving girl back over loudly and ordered another. While awaiting his next drank Haral began to observe the men curiously once more...

[Sherper]

Lighting pierced the sky as accompanying thunder opened the heavens around the grey walls of Caemlyn, its residents having long gone inside to seek shelter against the heavy downpour. If the rain was to keep up, it may actually threaten to overwhelm the city’s drainage systems – which could cause all sorts of problems. A small mounted party trotted slowly down the now deserted city streets, their hoods pulled up to prevent the rain from getting to their hair. They numbered five in total and although all rode horses, one can see a few were still unfamiliar with their saddles. Still, one thing was clear - these were not simple travellers. They may have tried pretending to be otherwise, but they haven’t done a very good job of it.  Bows, long swords and even a spear peaked out from underneath dust cloaks – the travelling garments themselves also showing suspicious signs of uniformity.

 

Jeral Ahan was one with the party, and at that moment he could think of nothing else but the accursed rain. They had been riding for nearly three days, with barely a stop in between to rest and dry off. Now they were finally in the city of Caemlyn, he was looking forward to a hot meal and bath – with quite possibility toasted blankets to crawl underneath and sleep. A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, followed by a heart shattering clap of thunder - like the all mighty hand of god. Jeral snapped upright in his saddle, blinking away rain drops.  He wasn’t out of the rain yet - they still needed to find an Inn.

 

“Can’t we just find any place and be done with it?” Jeral heard Arkin yell over the sound of the falling rain drops, and at the person leading the small procession. “No, I swear we’re almost there.” Came the reply from the front. “It should just be around the next block!”

 

As soon as they had pointed out they needed to find an Inn to stay for the time they were in Caemlyn, Cobbler Flinn – another cavalryman from the Band, had insisted they find the Inn which he knew would give them the best value for their gold. He had been born in Caemlyn - or so he had told them, yet as the rain drops drenched his already sodden coat, the young scout was beginning to doubt whether that was actually true. He swore he’d spotted them passing the same intersection twice already.  

 

Arkin snarled at the other man, his hood having been temporarily thrown back to show the multitude of braids with its tiny silver bells hanging from his head. He was the other scout that had been assigned to the escort detail, and Jeral could still remembered a time not that long ago when he had considered the man his enemy. Or well, close nemesis at least. But between now and the time the man had saved him from an eight hundred pound grizzly bear, Jeral had formed a kind of grudging respect for the slender coated Corporal.  

 

“We’re taking the next Inn we pass, even if they’re charging a king’s ransom for a bed.” came a gruffer voice from the side of the column. “I’m getting out of this light forsaken weather!”  That was Arinth, another of the men Jeral had grown to respect and understand during his time in the Band of the Red Hand. Which incidentally, did not mean Jeral did not fear the man like the dark one himself; the memory of his very first visit to the man’s office still vividly imprinted in his brain. The man was a sergeant of the infantry and as such, had overall command of the party.

 

“No need, we’re here!” Cobber grinned as he pointed to an ordinary looking building when they rounded the next bend. It had an extra story added to the top, which was built from the bottom floor’s stone foundations. With bright lights filtering through the window shutters and sound of merriment drifting across to them despite the heavy downpour, it looked decidedly warm and most important of all – dry. “Excellent, I was about to thump someone.” Commented Arinth as he spurred his horse towards the stable doors situated close to the entrance. Jeral wasn’t entirely certain whether the man had been serious or not – he could never tell. Arinth could make a joke, and still freeze a cup of water with that face of his.  

 

Once their horses were settled into the stalls and their saddlebags were sent to empty rooms on the top floor, the five band members entered the Inn’s common room through its front door. A blast of noise and warmth greeted them as they bustled through one by one. Some of the patrons closest to the doors shoot them glares for letting the chilly breeze in, but soon forgot about the new arrivals as soon as the last of them was through.

 

The hoop and arrow was like any other Inn and tavern Jeral’s ever been to. Men and sometimes woman drank and ate around large wooden tables – their conversations and occasional cries of exclamation melding slowly into one, until the noise in the common room could only be described as a low continuous buzz. Tobacue smoke also hung in the air, along with the sweet molten smell of wine drifting from mugs and steaming trays carried by bar maids.  The room was crowded with the amount of people crammed inside, but the five were still able to find a small table to themselves after kindly asking a group of dice players if they could possibly play somewhere else. The young cavalryman. Woman, Jeral still couldn’t remember precisely which – let the corner of her long sword show which instantly sent the three men scurrying to find game somewhere else. She – he, Private Malachias – really should be more careful where she stuck her nose, and Arkin voiced the same as the five settled down to sit.

 

Arinth called over a serving maid and ordered steaming mugs of spiced wine and food to be brought over. At the last instance he remembered to only order four cups of wine, after seeing the look Jeral was giving him. It was unfortunate as Arkin had caught the brief exchange, and saw it as a chance to recount – once more – the embarrassing incident a few weeks ago when Jeral had mistakenly consumed alcohol. Light, the man might have saved his life, but that did not give him an excuse to carry on like this! He turned and gave the other scout a toothy snarl, which he quickly dropped as he spotted something out of the corner of his eye.

 

It was at that instant the food arrived - steaming plates of vegetables and lamb shanks, along with goblets of the promised spiced wine. Even the smell from the close proximity made him a little woozy, but he held on, graciously accepting his own plate and cup of kaffe from the tray. A brief interval transpired as the rest of the band drifted between light topics of conversation in between mouthfuls of their meal.  

 

“Can you pass the salt please Arkin?” he said in a casual manner, hoping to hide his true purpose which was to turn his head sideways to see beyond the shoulders of the other man. Sure enough, the pair of eyes he had spotted earlier was still there – still staring at them. “What’s wrong?” Arkin asked as he shifted to grab the salt.
“I think someone is watching us,” he replied carefully, making an effort to look as if he hadn’t noticed anything.  “Man - slightly right of you - sitting in the corner by himself.” He paused as he made another seemingly casual pass of his head. “Brown hair, and about 6 foot high.”

 

Jeral might not be a city boy like Arkin, but he still held on to his sharp eyes and sense of alertness from his time in the forests. He smiled slightly to himself as he realised the strange observer had not noticed his technique for counter observation. Good.  “Who do you think he is?” he whispered, though outwardly he made no change in his sitting posture. “Eyes of the Light?” The Children were always a nuisance to the Band, and it would be just like them to send a spy to tail the small group and find out what they were doing. Arkin shrugged, “Donno. Maybe we should go talk to him.”   Jeral blinked in surprise, then gave the stranger another quick peak. “Let’s wait it out for now,” he said slowly, “see if he’ll make the first move.”

 

 

~Jeral Ahan
Private in the Band of the Red Hand. Scouting Division.

Edited October 24, 2013 by Sherper

[Te'Oran]

  Haral attempted to, not too obviously, continue observing the group of men, but he was sure they noticed him. After a short while he noticed a few of them had began talking in a low tone that he could not catch from across the room. He shrugged as he sat the stein that had been at his lips back down onto the table, he was not sure how many he had had that night. Suddenly a thought worked its way into his head that surprised even himself.

 

  Haral motioned the returning serving maid off with the wave of his hand as he stood from the wooden stool he was seated at and began making his way across the room. He was not sure what had gotten into him on this night, but it had been a strange one, and strange nights always called for strange events. His well worn boots caused loud creaks as he stepped across the saw-dust covered floor and the noise seemed obscenely loud to haral- Goodness could I make anymore noise?

 

  Finally Haral arrived at the table the group of men he had been observing were seated at. For whatever reason he decided he might as well initiate a discussion of some sort and started it all wrong as he usually did in such situations. " Say, you lot are a peculiar one eh. Some sort of soldiers or something of the sort I suppose? " Haral stood there rather awkwardly as the group gawked at him, he was not quite sure if it was out of amusement or anger. They were a hard book to read for sure.  Either way he was uncomfortable and began scolding himself in his head for ever approaching the men. Light they'll probably kill me. Kill me and throw me in the street, serves me right to I suppose but oh I hope- Haral's thoughts were suddenly interrupted as one of the men spoke up...

Edited October 24, 2013 by Te'Oran

[Arinth]

The inn was a welcome relief from the cold rain that had made the trip miserable. It had helped that he had been forced to ride a horse. The beast was a menace. The whole trip the beast had thought of nothing else but how to throw him off in such a way that he would fall and break his neck. He'd held on though.

 

His company was questionable as well. Arkin was there to make sure things got done. The others were all ones he didn't feel comfortable leaving back at the citadel unobserved. They would probably be trouble, but if he left them behind he'd just had to find a way to clean up the trouble when he got back. If they were with him there was the chance that he could prevent any trouble.

 

The one thing he knew was that he couldn't trust their judgement. One of them was a girl who thought she had to pretend to be a boy and the other had been dragged away by a bear. It was outrageous.

 

When the food finally arrived he dove right in. He had not realized how hungry he was. After a moment he noticed the others were talking. He stopped chewing long enough to try and gather what it was they were talking about.

 

“Eyes of the Light?” Bear Bait asked. Arinth doubted that but he held his tongue. The Children of the Light were too proud of their white cloaks to take them off. The conversation eventually turned to other things and Arinth's mind wandered away to different men he had sat with before. They were gone from his life now for one reason or another.

 

The conversation died suddenly and Arinth glanced around. The others were all staring at a man who had approached their table.

"Say, you lot are a peculiar one eh. Some sort of soldiers or something of the sort I suppose?" The man said.

 

Arinth tilted his head and stared at the man as he tore off a chunk of bread and chewed it. “What gave us away?” He finally asked after a long awkward pause.

[Te'Oran]

  By this point Haral  was feeling the effects of the numerous pints of ale he had consumed earlier on in the night. He knew that he looked shocked as soon as the man replied to him saying,  “What gave us away?”. Of course he would though you idiot, you did approach them after all. He soon gathered himself, watching the man who had spoken up gnawing on a chunk of bread. A disgusted look came across his face and without thinking he replied, " How I noticed matters not but Light you eat like a bloody animal! "

 

  A few of the people sitting close enough to hear the groups conversation over the commotion of the common room gawked openly, staring at Haral and the group of men. He quickly tried to jump in and save himself saying, " L-light man I'm sorry, but really the way you eat is bloody horrible! " By this point Haral swayed on his feet, gripping the edge of the groups table to steady himself. 

 

  Almost too quickly for him to have realized what had happened, Haral fell forward, knocking over the drink of another man, causing it to spill out all over the table. He began spitting out random curses and tried to wipe up the mess, doing more bad than good and spreading the spilled liquid everywhere.

Edited October 25, 2013 by Te'Oran

[Sherper]

Jeral openly gawked at the new comer. The man was an absolute loon for acting the way he is. His ears shot straight up to the ceiling as he caught the last few words of the man's difficult to understand drunken excuse of a speech. "by Light you eat like a bloody animal!" the man exclaimed, and Jeral could've wince as he realised the man had addressed it to Arinth. No one talked to Arinth like that.

 

A few of the other patrons must've noticed the sudden shift in mood in their close proximity, for they began to shift away from the small gathering at the table. Avoiding the small group as if they had the plague. The man was clearly drunk though, and he seemed just about - "L-light man I'm sorry, but really the way you eat is blood horrible!" No, Not the best apology Jeral's ever heard, but hopefully it'll make it clear even to Arinth that the man was intoxicated.

 

Arkin was opening his mouth to speak, but before he could even get a word off -  the man toppled forward knocking the wine cup right out of Cobber's hands and right into Jeral's face. Wine splashed into his eyes and he felt himself chock down a few mouthfuls from his nostrils. Oh light, he had just... Dizziness hit him as the avid side effects of the wine took hold. He was only dimly aware of the other man's sluggish rampage across the band's dinner table, as he clutched his forehead with both hands to try and fight off the pressing clouds of fog that had sprung up.  His judgement was getting blury, everything was getting so dizzy.

 

"That was my best coat you slithering, goat brained fool!" he heard himself yell, whilst at the same time trying to fight off the splitting pain that was threatening to split open his skull. Where was his cup of Kaff?

 

"Why you clumsy oafs don't know any manners these days." He blustered, no longer caring what he said or how he said them. "But you eat just as ugly," the man said completely out of context, and Jeral could slowly feel self control slip that much further from his grasp. The wine was making him not think straight. He was getting angry for no reas- "You take that comment back about my mother," he growled as the other man continued to talk and make frantic gestures. Jeral wasn't even sure if the man had said something about his mother, but he suddenly found he was trying to loosen his long belt knife - which in truth was almost a short sword, and trying to grab the other man's coat collar with his other free hand.

 

Someone was shouting but it seemed distant and far away. The last conscious part of Jeral finally slipped away, as the alcohol finally won control over his body. He really didn't like this man, he decided. Where was that knife?

 

 

~Jeral Ahan
Private in the Band of the Red Hand. Scouting Division.

Edited October 26, 2013 by Sherper

[Te'Oran]

 Haral flung his arms about over his head and began screaming in some odd, and more than likely, non existent tongue. " -Ou blooy fool!" He yelled almost at the top of his lungs! One man rose from the table and in reply shouted,  "You take that comment back about my mother!" Haral obviously had no control over the situation at this point, " Oh so now you do be insulting my mum!? Well your mum is a bloody fat lummox! " he shouted back with his eyes fluttering. To his horror Haral realized the man was attempting- and failing at the moment- to draw a short-sword of a knife from his waist.

 

  Without thinking Haral threw himself on top of the man and they hit the floor with a loud noises of plates hitting it as well accompanying them. He was conscious of a bit of drool running down his cheek, as well as a glass shard in the palm of his right hand, but that was about the extent of Harals awareness of the situation. 

 

  Around him people were shouting and the entire common room seemed to erupt as if he had given some signal he was unaware of. The man that he had toppled onto the ground with was still screaming curses that Haral did not really understand and so he swung a fist towards the mans head striking only open air. " Ya' quit movin'! " Haral lost balance and rolled over on his back, the room around him whirling to blackness.

 

  Whilst Haral was blacked out the mans party rushed in around the two and started pulling at them here and there, both were obviously in need of some rest.

Edited October 25, 2013 by Te'Oran

[Sherper]

Bright orange rays of sunlight radiated itself through the tiny glass window of the Inn bed room, as Jeral squirmed uncomfortably under his bed linens. The thunderstorm of last night had finally exhausted itself out, and the morning was looking to be one of clear skies and cool breezes. Fresh air, mingled with a faint sweetness from the now clean streets, wafted through the gaps in the window and made Jeral groan. He shifted once more; still not fully awake despite the sun already being two notches above the distant horizon. He turned over to his side, his subconscious receptors horribly misjudging his body’s distance to the edge of the bed and he fell over the side – landing in a heap of blankets and awkward positions.

 

Gingerly moving his hand about, he felt for anything that might have broke during his short yet exhilarating ride down to the floor boards. Satisfied nothing important was broken; he slowly got up from the edge of his bed and rubbed a weary eye with the back of his palm. Arkin was already up, sitting on the one other bed in the room and absent-mindedly running one of his knives along a small wet stone.

 

“How long was I out for?” he asked, as he climbed slowly to his feet. From the position of the sun he could’ve made a rough estimation, but it might not have just been one night. His previous encounter with alcohol had left him knocked him out for nearly two days. The substance was vile, and Jeral couldn’t comprehend why anyone would take to drinking it.

 

“Just since last night. You should’ve seen your face.” The man chortled merrily, never once letting the wet stone slacken from the ominous shink, shink sound it made.

 

“What happened to the other guy?” he was looking around for his boots and more importantly, his belt that had his long knife on it, but neither appeared to be in sight. “And what did you do with my stuff?”  

 

Arkin gave him a slight shake of his head, some of the bells making little jingling noises as the man tisked softly. “Arinth said he planned to melt your sword down to make spoons, the way you acted last night. It was only when I insisted it wasn’t your fault the man splashed wine in your face, that he be relented and ordered your stuff to be kept under lock and key for now.”

 

Jeral ground his teeth at the words, yet said nothing. He guessed he should’ve counted himself fortunate for the final decision, yet his lips still contorted to a scowl at the lack of the familiar weight around his hips. “Arinth has gone to get the supplies we came here for with the others, and has left us to watch over the other guy from last night.” He went on, and that made Jeral look up. “Where exactly is ‘this other guy’ anyway?” the man had looked no younger, or older than him or Arkin. And he had been very nosy.

 

“Just over by the next room from us, we asked the Inn keeper if we can have the doors bolted from the outside so he won’t be escaping.” He nodded and finally spotted his worn walking boots peeking out from underneath a corner of Arkin’s matrass. “I’d say it’s time we went and said hello,” he said, grabbing the shoes and hastily stuffing both his foot into them. Arkin gave him an arching eyebrow, but nodded in the end. “Just remember, Arinth still didn’t say nothing about – not having your hide for supper.”

 

They walked over from their tiny quarters down the small hallway with the entrance to the Inn’s other rooms lined nearly on both sides. They came to a stop to the front of a room which had a long piece of chain looped around the hinges with a stout iron lock tied at the end. Arkin produced a key and the lock clicked open to let them both inside.

 

Jeral saw the other was already up, and by the startled jump the man gave them as they entered, he guessed the stranger was probably still in shock from last night. “Hello,” he said in what might be perceived as a friendly chatty tone, but Arkin caught the underlining ice and shot him a warning look. Remember Arinth, those eyes said and Jeral promptly adjusted his tact, thinking it was probably better to play it safe.

 

“My name is Jeral, and this is Arkin,” he pointed to himself and his companion in turn as they sat down. “What might your name be?” The man mumbled something, and he thought he caught a name underneath all that muttering.  “Harry. That’s a… unusual name. Well, now that the introductions are out of the way. Would you mind sharing with us why you were following us last night?”

 

He waited patiently for a response. He could be patient when he wanted to. That was one of the key virtues of being a good hunter – or a successful one at that. The man’s hand fidgeted nervously, unconsciously clasping and unclasping the bed sheets from underneath him. A peculiar figure, Jeral decided as he sat, watched and waited.

 

 

~Jeral Ahan
Private in the Band of the Red Hand. Scouting Division.
 

Edited October 26, 2013 by Sherper

[Te'Oran]

  Haral sat up in his bed hastily as he heard the shuffling of chain links at his door and rubbed the last bit of sleep from his eyes quickly. He could feel the red rings forming around his eyes from the pressure of his fingertips. Suddenly the large door opened with a loud Click!, and in stepped two men who he somewhat recognized. They stepped in with the mildly arrogant saunter only a soldier would carry himself with.

 

  One of the men in particular stepped forward and spoke to Haral directly, “My name is Jeral, and this is Arkin,” he pointed to himself and his companion in turn as they sat down. “What might your name be?” Haral stared at the man for a moment and then mumbled in reply under his breath. Suddenly the man accused him of following their party. " Well, I certainly was not following you or any of your men and even if I had been I probably would not be able to tell you why. " Haral glared at the man gripping the bed sheets under himself and releasing them almost rhythmically.

 

 Suddenly a glint of light shone through the window and struck perfectly on the washbasin in Haral's room causing it to glimmer in his eye. " Ahhhh bloody hell! " he groaned loudly. The men looked at him with almost amused looks on their faces. He leaned forward on the bed shielding his face as he was filled to the brim with a nauseous feeling. Haral stumbled up from his bed clumsily, stubbing his toes on loose floor boards as he made his way over to the wash basin and plunged his face into the cool water. 

 

  The feeling of relief was instant and Haral quickly jerked his head up from the small tub, causing water to fly around the room in small droplets. " Say, either of you lot got a towel? " Haral asked as he once more shook his head, flinging small bit of the water towards the men. A mischievous look worked its way onto his face and held its place there for a short while. The men did not seem to catch the humor in the situation.

 

  With that thought Haral shrunk back onto the bed and crossed his legs over one another. He looked at the two men intently and awaited some sort of response. 
 

Edited October 28, 2013 by Te'Oran

[Sherper]

“Well I certainly was not following you or any of your men and even if I had been, I probably would not be able to tell you why.” The boy said with an air of certainty about him. Jeral raised an eyebrow and stared flatly back. He hid a line of amusement from his face. The boy thought ‘he’ was in charge. That’ll give a good laugh later.

 

“You leave that part to us, mind.” He said in response to the boy’s swift rejection. “And if we find out there was anything you were hiding from us we’ll-”
He cut off as he once again – noticed Arkin’s glare at him. Alright fine, he stared back – annoyed. This would have all gone a lot more smoothly if only he had his way. The boy would spill his beans right out if only Jeral was allowed to ‘threaten’ him a bit.

 

“Ah bloody hell!” the boy yelled in exclamation – squinting his eyes as a ray of light glistened through the open window to reflect off the wash basin water. Jeral watched as the boy stumbled across towards the basin, tripping over his own feet the whole way, before plunging his entire face under the surface of the water – caring little how much was slashed on the ground. Jeral frowned as some of that water splashed onto his shirt and trousers. The Inn keeper certainly won’t be happy when he finds the room a mess. Probably have to charge them extra.

 

“Say, either of you lot got a towel?” the man grinned.
“What do I look like? Your personal servant?”
The boy didn’t seem to hear him as he was still flinging bits of water everywhere by wildly shaking his head.
“Take a seat.”
The boy did.

 

“Now,” Jeral sighed, once they were once again settled. “Whether you were following us or not, you did approach us last night. But since it was obvious you were already intoxicated, I assume you didn’t quite get your meaning out. So…” he continued.

 

“Tell me, who are you, and what under the light do you want with us?”

 

~Jeral Ahan
Private in the Band of the Red Hand. Scouting Division.