[IC] Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

[WhiteRose]

Ronan held the woman close in his arms. She was beautiful, like the purest image one had ever seen in a noble portrait gallery. Her hair was soft as spun silk, flowing about her shoulders like a golden waterfall. Her eyes were flaming jewels, her lips a pure red cherry upon the white-frosted cake of her snowy, perfect complexion. His eyes were filled with tears as he held her in a passionate embrace, pulling her close, his lips so very close to hers that he could feel her breath upon his stubbly muzzle.

Then a heavy blow to his chest from a leather-gloved hand made him start awake. He shouted aloud, jumping immediately to his feet with a cry of rage. "Oi! That was a damn good dream - which one of you scumbags woke me up!?" he yelled, glaring around furiously. The group, sitting amongst the many branches of a huge old tree... or perhaps a lazy ent, one could never be sure... looked at him and shrugged. Eventually Ronan's eyes settled on Huxley, a portly man who nevertheless could be trusted with his keen senses to give advanced warning of any quarry that came by. He sighed slightly. "What is it, Hux?"

"Noble lady, sir - jewels and all. Not much security on her, roads are so safe these days that they're barely bothering to have more than a couple guards when they travel."

Ronan's eyes lit up, and he scrambled to his feet before adopting a more stable perch upon the thick branch, which would allow him to get at his weapon without toppling out of the thick canopy. He grinned madly, an arrow knocked and the bow ready to draw at any moment.

"Alright boys, quiet - let's wait for the lady to come by, then take her stuff nice and easy..."

[FernStone]

It was a beautiful day, the sun high in the sky and not a single cloud to be seen. There was nothing that Lady Alianor wanted to do less than what she was currently being forced to do. Her father had decided she had spent enough time hidden away unmarried, after all it wouldn't do for a lady of her standing to go for two years without so much of an engagement. This was something that irritated her greatly. After all, when you are widowed, two years is not that long a time. But, of course, now her father required her to return to the court. She didn't know what he hoped to gain after all at around thirty years she was well past the typical marrying age.

But her father obviously some benefit in this arrangement as here she was, riding through the forest. Riding, not even being allowed a carriage as the road was 'too dangerous' for such a thing. She herself did not carry much, only the dress she wore (simpler than what she was used to, after all she couldn't ride in one of the more fancier ones) and her jewellery which was of course worth a small fortune. Her father was an important and rich noble, her husband had been even more so. She was bringing only a small amount of belongings with her as most of what she owned had already been transferred to the capital. There was some more jewellery, and of course a few more dresses. The bags containing those were carried by the three guards she had with her.

"My lady, we have been riding for a long time," one of the guards spoke hesitantly, eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. "Maybe it would be best if we stopped for a while. The horses may need the rest."

"No, we continue," Alianor's voice was cold, eyes darting over to the guard that had spoke. "The sooner we reach our destination the better." With that the small group went back to silence, Alianor's eyes glancing at the trees around her. She only hoped she would get out of this forest soon.

[WhiteRose]

Ronan was nudged again by Huxley. He gave the word for his fellow bandits to get ready and waited just a few more seconds for the caravan to get closer. He made sure that his equipment was strapped to his body securely, that his face was in as grizzled a position as he could force it into, and that his teeth had been picked clean. Then, the stage set, he leapt from the tree and landed with an earth 'thud' a couple of metres in front of the noble's caravan, his bow at the ready. He held up a hand for the travellers to halt, and gave them a warm, if slightly intimidating, smile.

"Hold! I say hold, there! I'm terribly sorry to tell you that you've stumbled into unfriendly waters, and you are now presented with a choice." Ronan brandished his bow like a club, pointing to Lady Alianor. "Dear lady - your money, or your life? Which will also lead us to take your money!"

As he rattled of his clichéd catchphrase, the other bandits also emerged from the trees surrounding the group. They were not particularly well-armed, mostly relying on old hunting bows, woodcutting axes and other such improvised weapons, but their numbers were probably a little too much to fight. Huxley was the last one out of the trees- scrambling down rather than jumping, due to a bad knee. He panted slightly as he reached Ronan's side. Ronan ignored him and tried to look menacing. But as Huxley raised his head to look at their latest quarry, he breathed in sharply.

"Ronan - that's Lady Alianor. She's related to the King." he looked quite shocked. "Now we've done it. She'll tell him we're here, you know, and we'll have the heroes burning down the whole bloody forest to find us."

Ronan considered this for a moment.

"Alright - dear lady, I'm sorry to say that the choice you have to make is not the choice you probably chose before. Which is... hold on, what?" Ronan looked mightily confused for a moment, his stumbling speech taking the wind out of the display for just a moment. He then shook his head and continued. "Anyway. Let us tie you up and take you back with us, or I'll have to put arrows in you and your fellas here."

[FernStone]

Alianor was certainly shocked by the appearance of a man in the middle of the path, having seemingly jumped out off a tree. She stopped, icy eyes narrowed as she regarded the person who stood before them and eyeing the bow warily. She did not like how this was going. She had no wish to die, but she wasn't letting this peasant steal all that she had of value with her! She would not allow it. When her father found out about it... These bandits, now that there seemed to more than one, would not live for much longer. She knew there was a reason she did not like this forest. Really it should just be burnt to the ground and all those in it, namely the bandits, executed.

Alianor cast a sidelong glance at her three guards, all of whom had drawn their swords. "Would you please do something about this rabble?" She hissed quietly, voice harsh.

"There is not much we can do, m'lady," one replied just as quietly as he eyed up the bandits. "There are too many, and they will shoot you before we get close." It took most of her willpower not to shout at the guards for just how useless they were. At least one should have a bow and be trained in its use! And if she had but one more... Then this wouldn't be so much of a predicament. She was not giving her money to such low people as these. Other, weaker, noble women would have done such a thing. She would not. Though she did like living, she would rather die than she funds fall into the hands of such scum. Not things of such high value. They would just use it to terrorise others.

She realised the man was talking again, after having a word with someone she assumed was his second command. His words were all jumbled up and even confused himself. As she had thought, their leader was simple. That figured. Her eyes only further narrowed at the options she was given.

"You will neither tie me up, nor shoot me with arrows if you know what is good for you," she adopted a haughty air, icy blue eyes only seeming even colder than they normally were. "You cannot do either of those things. When my father finds out about this, and he will, you will all be arrested or killed." She brushed a strand of hair over her shoulder, trying to look as confident as possible though inside she wasn't so sure. If they killed her, well, they might burn the body. Of course her father would know where she had gone missing but it would not be enough to go on. And if she went with them then there was no way of getting word to her relatives. It was a very sticky predicament. Which was why she was trying to talk her way out of it. "You have the choice of leaving me be, and keeping your lives, or doing any of the things you suggested and ensuring your own deaths." A lie. She couldn't be sure of anything, just if she got out of here she would report what had happened. These bandits couldn't be allowed to continue to exist.

[WhiteRose]

"Or... I could take a third option, and do what I want to do rather than letting a noble sprig dictate terms. Soooo... There's that." Ronan raised his hand in the air, and his companions simultaneously drew their bows. "I wouldn't worry too much: you're worth more in ransoms or as a pet than you are dead. Your guards though are fighting men, and they seem loyal- which is going to cause me problems. So what I suppose I'm trying to say is... 'I'm sorry, but you should probably duck'."

Ronan lowered his hand swiftly, and in perfect time with his movement the twenty-odd bows released. There was a loud clamour, filled with bowstrings twanging, the unmistakable 'stuff' noise that arrows made as they cut through the air, and a large number of fleshy thuds as the thick wooden shafts embedded themselves in the ground, the guards, and Alianor's horse. Ronan looked at the messy scene with a grim distaste, then flicked his wrist in a silent motion for his crew to come and clean them out. The guards had better quality equipment than they did, which would surely come in handy... And let's face it, good horse meat was hard to come by anyway. Ronan barely had time to walk over to Alianor before two eager bandits had set about butchering the fallen animal. He offered a hand to help Alianor to her feet, looking at the noble woman half-pityingly, half-disdainfully.

"It can't be nice, being out in your place like this. But, if you play nice, I'll give you your request- no ropes, no more killing. Come quietly and we'll put a roof over your head, feed you, and keep you safe until we decide what we're going to do with you. Oh, and give your jewels over to my second Huxley."

[FernStone]

While she had hoped that she would get what she wanted due to what she said, Alianor had not really expected it. However she hadn't expected him to quite suddenly order them to open fire. She had barely had time to process his words, and their exact meaning, before there was the distinct sounds of bowstrings as arrows were let lose and embedded themselves in just about everything. Thankfully a shocked jerk to the right, causing her to nearly fall off her horse, meant she narrowly avoided one that would have landed in her leg. The poor animal, however, was in a much worse state. It only managed to stay standing for a few moments more before it collapsed to the ground taking Alianor with it. She managed to avoid getting crushed but it did result in her falling to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Well brilliant, now her dress was ruined. Not to mention the humiliation. She completely ignored the hand offered by the bandit leader, pushing herself up to her feet and looking at the scene with what could only be described as disgust. She was sure she was going to be sick... She clasped her hand to her mouth to prevent herself from gagging. Her guards were dead... her horse was dead. It was all so brutal. She shouldn't have expected any less from these evil savages. They didn't seem to have any humanity in them. The guards had done nothing wrong yet they were now dead.

Her cold, piercing glare moved to Ronan. "Have it your way," she spoke calmly, a slightly defiant look in her eyes. But it was obvious she was not going to put up a fight. She knew there was no escaping this situation so she might as well accept it with what dignity she had. At the request to turn over her jewels she looked indignant, even more disgusted and angry than before. If that was even possible. Slowly she began the job of doing so, handing over the earrings she wore first, then bracelets, then necklaces, then whatever else she had. She kept one necklace on, mostly hidden by her dress, which had been her mother's, and her mother's before that. It was something of a family heirloom as she would fight for it if needed. But it was hidden enough. She also kept on a single ring on her finger, relatively simple at first glance. It look like nothing more than silver but a closer look would reveal the tiny diamonds that made up most of its surface. That was her wedding ring, from the marriage that had ended in the death of her husband. "That is all. It is worth more than enough to keep you happy." She struggled to remain calm, looking like she wanted nothing less than to kill them all. Of course, she couldn't and had no way of doing so. "But now this, when my father finds out I did not reach my destination he will send search parties. Here is the first place they will come."

[WhiteRose]

"I don't doubt they'll come looking for you, lass. I'm sure your daddy loves you very much. And you're right, the natural place to start a search would be the most densely forested part of the road you were travelling, as it is exactly where people like us have a tendency to set up ambushes. Thing is, what the rookies forget... you know, the sort of amateur thieves who spend half their time pillaging things and the other half shouting impotent threats at men with magic greatswords... is that if you shit where you eat, you're going to get sick real quick." Ronan chuckled slightly. He took a knife from his belt and held it up for Alianor to examine for a moment. Then he came closer, grabbing hold of her roughly and thrusting the knife forward... into the loose-hanging thigh of her dress. He split the fabric on both sides ripping it to give her a little bit more freedom of movement. "We're camped about three miles north of here, cliffside near a river. Relatively sheltered from the storms, and we have fresh water to drink. But I suppose you should hope we do a poor job of covering our tracks, eh?"

The journey back to their camp was difficult. Ronan led the party along a winding trail, thick with crawling roots, hanging vines, and the occasional spider as big as a small dog which a few of the bandits had to quickly put down. They did collect some venom from these encounters however, so it was not entirely without profit. Ronan knew that he was taking far longer than necessary to reach the camp, but he didn't want to take any chances with the new girl - it would be better that she didn't remember how to get back to the road, and his crew were fit enough not to be all too bothered by the hike. Well, Huxley wasn't exactly enjoying himself, but then again Ronan needed the man for his brains and not his physique, so this could be forgiven. Besides, thought Ronan... it was nice to make the pretty lady work. She was certainly not dressed for the journey, even with Ronan's impromptu modifications.

The Black Arrows' camp was encircled by a high wall made of wooden stakes, carved from what could only be whole tree trunks. Ronan was not quite sure how the process went - he knew that ancient armies did something similar through sheer numbers, but his own resources were limited and so he instead had to buy them from a strange wizard who the group occasionally traded with. He seemed to like gems, apparently they worked well for enchanting purposes, and in return he would send shipments of cut wood to them by stone golem. It was a queer arrangement, but it worked. As the group neared the gates, a voice called down to ask who it was. Ronan shouted that the man who asked was an idiot, and this seemed identification enough - the gates soon swung open, and the group rejoined the ten men they had left behind to guard their homes.

The camp itself was... fine. The high cliff face along its northern edge gave it some level of protection and shade, but the buildings were particularly simple. Most of them were more or less wooden tents or yurts, with one particularly large area filled with long tables and benches - presumably a sitting or dining area of some sort - situated beneath a long thatched roof with regular wooden columns holding it up.

"Alright lads, put your spoils wherever. Dun-lane, preserve the horse and get started on tonight's meal. Huxley, you come here." Ronan motioned for his lieutenant, who sidled over, still panting slightly from the journey back, and looked at him expectantly. "I haven't decided what to do with her yet. Some of the lads wanted to have a go on her, but I told them to piss off. I'll be having her sleep near me, so they don't try anything. If one of them does, castrate him and put him on night watch for the next year."

"Yessir." Huxley nodded, hurrying off to make the announcements that the prisoner was not to be touched. Ronan looked wearily at the woman... she might shape up to be more trouble than she was worth.

[FernStone]

Alianor tried not to look more and more worried as Ronan continued to speak, face paling slightly. Truthfully she had really hoped that these bandits would be amateurs, the kind who were threatening to travellers but easy to take out. She was beginning to think more and more about the possibility that they may not find her. What would happen then? She only hoped they went for a ransom. If she could convince them her father would pay a decent ransom fee (something she wasn't so sure on, she would have been more certain if her husband was still alive) then they would go down that route. Then, after all that was done, she would be able to inform her father of where these bandits were. Then they would be executed. She looked slightly confused as the leader got out a knife, fear suddenly registering in her eyes as he grabbed her and thrust the knife towards her. "Do you know what this dress was made of!" Her annoyed cry was loud, increased in volume due to the fear that the knife had actually been aimed at her heart. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. "I doubt you will not cover them well enough." Though she tried to remain confident, it was obvious that she was more shaken.

The journey was the worst thing Alianor had ever experienced, apart from the events earlier in the day and watching her husband as he died. As a noble she had never had to do any form of work in her life or really any kind of exertion. She spent most of the time getting hit by hanging vines, trying not to trip over her dress which she ended up having to hold up off the ground. There were a few times she almost ended up falling flat on her face. While her plan had been to try and remember her route that soon left her mind as she concentrated on walking without falling or getting hit by something. Of course it wasn't even in her mind as soon as they encountered the massive spiders. She had never seen something so terrifying in her life. Small spiders were bad enough, never mind ones the size of small dogs! Her air of confidence was quickly crumbling as they made the journey towards their camp.

By the time they arrived Alianor was absolutely exhausted, and really wanted nothing more than to collapse and sleep. Of course a bath would be nice but she doubted that would be on offer here. The wall that surrounded the camp was impressive enough, and large. Enough to warn people away from the area. Of course it wouldn't put off a proper group of warriors, or heroes. The inside itself... Alianor's disgust at the 'buildings' was evident as soon as she entered and looked around. They couldn't really be called buildings. They were nothing of the sort. She was sure most of them would be easily destroyed. And they would be cold. She did not want to sleep here. On top of all of this she doubted that there was any privacy.

Her thoughts soon turned from this as she concentrated on getting her breath by while listening to what Ronan said. She was out of breath, aching all over and her dress was completely ruined. She was glad she had dressed for travelling, as even though the dress was not made for these kinds of situations it was far better than most of the ones she normally wore. She bit her lip and tried not to gag as she began to get some of what Ronan was talking about. She didn't even want to think about that... yes, she was definitely going to try and convince them that a ransom was the best way to go.

Standing up straight again, dress now far from clean and her long hair matted from being constantly caught in things during the journey, Alianor once again adopted a proud and almost snobbish demeanour. "Is this it? I had though it would be more impressive. After all if you are as good bandits as you make yourselves out to be then you must have more than enough gold in jewellery to make proper buildings," she scoffed, tilting her head. "Of course I shouldn't have expected any more, people like you often live in such... common establishments."

[WhiteRose]

"Surprisingly, professional stonemasons don't tend to offer their services to people without any means of mining stone. Wood's good, lass. Strong, warm, cheap. It does what it needs to do, and I don't hear any complaining. No - your gold will be keeping us eating like kings for the next year. And if I convince you to take off that ring of yours, maybe two." Ronan smirked. He was surprised that the young noble had thought that 'wearing her ring openly and not mentioning it' would be enough to secrete it from professional thieves. He liked her pluck, though. A bit of harmless defiance made life more interesting - she certainly wasn't the snivelling wreck that many people became, which gave him reason to keep her around. Ronan wasn't an evil man, not really - he'd show mercy to the ones that begged, and if they were friendly enough he might send them on their way with horses intact. But this one looked like she could take some rough treatment. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping. I suppose you could call it the king's suite..."

Ronan led Alianor to what looked like a flat wooden door embedded into the side of the cliff the camp was built around. It had a large iron lock keeping it shut, which Ronan unlocked with a key that hung around his neck. Opening the strange portal, he revealed a reasonably large cave that he and his crew had renovated to act as Ronan's private chambers. It was cosy enough - it was clear that at one point the cave had been a stinking reserve of moss, and probably inhabited by a bear or some other large animal judging by the years-dry bloodstains on the walls and floor. Since then the bandits had done a good job of cleaning up. The floor immediately in front of the door was thatched with thick wheat, which Ronan wiped his boots against before taking them off and laying them to one side. The rest of the cave was lined with pelts of varying shapes, sizes and colours, from small black wolves to big brown bears, which gave the place a soft carpeted feel. There was a heavy wooden desk with some chairs off to one side, a map of the surrounding area lying open on it along with some ink pots. In the far back were scattered pillows which Ronan used as a bedplace.

"You'll be sleeping in here with me. Safer that way - they're lovely lads, mostly, but a pretty woman mincing about the place can be distracting. Besides, if you try to shank me in the night I think I'd probably be able to overpower you. What do you weigh? Not more than ten stone-shares, I reckon. Probably throw you if I had to." Ronan narrated the potential violence with a dim, slightly disconnected tone of voice. He didn't seem all to worried about the possibility of having to fight or kill Alianor - it was just a matter-of-fact thing to him, something that needed to be said to clear the air and avoid an awkward explanation later. "I suppose I should introduce myself, no? My name is Ronan. Until further notice, I own you. Behave, and you'll have no problems with me."

Ronan sat down near the pillows, smiling broadly.

[FernStone]

"I doubt they would offer their services to the likes of you, either," Alianor added with a delicately arched eyebrow. As soon as her ring was mentioned her other hand moved to cover it, moving close to her chest. "Over my dead body," she replied coldly, eyes narrow. "It is one thing to take things of merely monetary value,"[b] which truthfully was what the rest of her jewellery had been, [b]"and another to take those of sentimental value." She would not let them take her ring. It was her one connection she had with her deceased husband, who she had truly loved, and she wasn't going to just hand it over so some bandits could eat for another year. She'd be quite happy if they starved. Now there was a nice thought. Of course if they tried to force it from her there wasn't much she could do. At least the necklace was hidden.

She reluctantly followed him over to the door in the cliff, rather curious as to what it led to. Whatever was inside it couldn't be any worse than the buildings she had already seen. Of course, she had low expectations. She entered silently behind Ronan, glancing around with a critical gaze. It was... plain. That was the only thing she could think of at the moment. There was a desk which suggested that the bandit leader was at least somewhat literate. So not as stupid as she had first thought. However, that seemed to be the only furniture along with some chairs and... pillows? There wasn't even a bed. How interesting. "Lovely place, she muttered sarcastically to herself. She certainly didn't see were he had gotten it into his head that it was some kind of king's suite. It was nothing of the sort. The room she had had in her father's country home had been nicer, better furnished and fancier than this. Never mind anything the king would sleep in. She wasn't sure how she was going to sleep here... without a bed. She didn't like the place at all. She couldn't wait to get out of here. And it would happen. She had that much faith in her father's men.

"Oh yes, I'm sure they are all lovely," Alianor gave a slight smile, regarding him coldly. "And don't worry, I have no plans to 'shank you' as you put it." That was the truth. If she was going to try and kill him she would do it in a way that gave her more of an advantage. After all, she had never used a weapon as as he said he could easily overpower her. That much was obvious. Although he had put into her mind that it was entirely possible to try and kill him. Her thoughts had only been turned to escaping before hand. Then again, she wasn't sure she'd be able. She couldn't stand the sight of blood. "I would say it was nice to meet you, Ronan, but then I would be lying. I prefer not to do such a thing." She tilted her head, moving further into the cave. "Of course, I'll behave perfectly. As long as you, and anyone else, doesn't do anything untoward. If not I don't think there will be any problems." Until she thought further and made plans of course.

She wandered over to the desk, glancing down at the map with an act of aloof curiosity. She hoped that the map would give her some clue of where she was and how to get back to the track. That would make one thing easier. She glanced at the ink pots, arching an eyebrow. "Can you read and write?"

[WhiteRose]

"Don't worry. lady. 'Untoward' is not something I tolerate among my men." Ronan nodded, a grim glint in his eye. To be a bandit was one thing, he thought - bloodshed was another part of life, regrettable but necessary, and property was not as precious as most men perceived. But there were crimes worse than these, necromancy and other violations, which he felt were inexcusable. He had executed more than a few, a the start, who thought that lawlessness was an excuse to indulge whatever dark whim flung itself in their direction. "I don't know what you think of me, lass, but I would hate to come across as a boor. Yes, I can read and write just fine - I'm also a deft hand at animal husbandry and can recite Elysian poetry from memory."

"A good maiden's touch is like the flickering fire of a first fresh snowfall, which lays itself solidly upon the shifting wasteland of the soul.. it is a paradox of peculiar proportions, perfectly presentable and yet foul to the sight of the blind." Ronan waved his hand in the air, imitating the foppish mannerisms of a courtly bard mid-way through a ballad. In truth, he had a soft spot for such romantic nonsense. Ronan was no idealist, but he craved a world in which these contradictory words could be true.

"It's funny, you know - how you think you know me, and how you think you're better than me. I mean, hell, you might be better than me - I'll give you that. You're a damn dainty thing, probably never lifted a finger in your life and certainly never caved a man's head in with the back end of a war-axe. Your daddy though, he's probably a butcher. The rich and powerful only stay that way so long as they make sure that anyone who files grievance is still kept nice and firm underneath their boot." Ronan growled. He wasn't sure quite what it was about Alianor which provoked him - maybe her arrogance, maybe her condescension, maybe that she represented everything the world had taken from him. Maybe he was just tired- that was an option too. He calmed himself after a moment, and paced over to the map Alianor was looking at. "If you can memorise this, you'd have a good chance of finding your way back here you know. Course, I didn't actually mark the camp on there - these old cartographer maps are too pretty. Never did know why they drew such creatures on the borders... maybe they're meant to live here."

Roran sniffed. He could smell dinner - fresh meat, brazed over an open camp-fire. He salivated.

"Have you ever eaten food before? Not double-baked sweet breads, but a bit of muscle carved from a dead thing." Roran smiled sweetly to her. "It's nice, I'll tell you. Part of what we exist for, you know - natural cycle, and all that."

[FernStone]

"It is good to know that you have at least some morals," Alianor sniffed slightly, lips pursed into a thin line. It didn't make her any less worried, as there was always the possibility of death hanging over her head, but rather that than... anything else. There wouldn't be any pain after death. "I apologise, I didn't expect someone of such literacy to turn to a life such as this." She shrugged slightly. "Most petty criminals cannot read or write, but I guess I was wrong to assume the same of you." She listened to the poem with a slightly tilted head, a single eyebrow raised. It was curious that such a man would know that kind of poetry. There were few with an interest in poetry as it was, never mind that kind or common folk. "Very impressive. There are few who can recite something like that." She spoke truthfully though it was not really meant as a compliment. Not entirely.

"I don't think I'm better than you." These word weren't said in a way that suggested she was dying that she thought so, more indicating that she knew it. And she did, well she was sure she did. Ronan was a criminal who stole for a living, killing without qualms and kidnapped noble ladies. She had never killed anyone and she had no plans to. She didn't even want to think of the possibility. If it was really necessary she would rather others did it for her. That was what men were for, after all. She stiffened slightly as Ronan went on to suggest things about her father, "My father is not a butcher." Her voice had a certain cold anger to it, and if looks could kill Ronan would be long dead. "He is not." As far as she was aware her father was relatively nice to those under him. Of course any who went against him were punished, but that was the natural order of things. And as far as she was aware he didn't kill people. He certainly wasn't a warrior, like one of her brothers was and her husband had been. After a few moments she also calmed herself down, taking a deep breath. Probably best to not get to the point of being so angry she didn't think. She'd rather her stay was as comfortable as possible. "Of course I can memorise it," she spoke as if there was no doubt to that. She was sure she could easily memorise it. Using it, however... She had never really liked maps and had regretted not learning to properly use them. She had much preferred reading books as a form of entertainment. She did love a good book. "And the creatures are most likely some form of decoration." She wasn't sure if he was being serious when he suggested that they maybe lived where they were on the map.

She looked taken aback by his question, trying to completely work out what he meant. "Eaten food? Of course I have eaten food before. If I hadn't I would be dead," she narrowed her eyes, still looking confused. "I don't agree with it being what we exist for, more merely something we must do to survive." She sniffed the air, trying not to make a face. Well it certainly smelt nothing like what she was used to. She doubted they even bothered doing anything with the meat, like seasoning it or adding flavour. "Do you eat the same thing every day? Just meat?" She look absolutely repulsed at even the possibility of such a thing. Surely everyone had varied meals?

[WhiteRose]

"Meat is a luxury, but we get enough of it. Anything that wanders close enough to our camp we'll have... wolf meat might seem strange to you, but believe me when I say that no man here would turn down a good leg of dog when he can have it." Roran smiled to himself as he led the woman outside again. The smell of fresh meat had filled the camp - her horse had been butchered well, and quickly, and was now roasting amid various herbs and spices collected from nearby. It's quite a pleasant smell, with some hints of basil and rosemary in the mix. "We send out hunters regularly - they're dressed like ordinary folk, you understand, and could be from any of the nearby towns if asked - but they don't always bring back much. Aside from that we farm various patches of the forest for berries, mushrooms, vegetables that can be made into stews. It's not enough, but it keeps us going. The money from travellers such as yourself doesn't hurt, either, and means we can buy from the locals once in a while."

Roran was not quite sure why he was telling Alianor all this. He supposed, on reflection, he found her amusing. Each new minor revelation, whether it be the dog meat or the poetry, made her wrinkle her nose up in clear, barely disguised distaste. He enjoyed the satisfaction of slowly chipping away at her prissy demeanour, and was wondering how far he had to go before he broke her down to his level. Her father was apparently a sore spot, and he resolved to prod at the subject more following dinner.

"The way I see it, you have to measure good, evil and purpose by your own flesh and blood. Is a wolf who kills a lone traveller evil? No, it's doing what it divinity ordained it to do. And dragons- were they 'evil' for burning towns and collecting magic trinkets? Flames, no- you give a lizard enhanced intelligence and magic breath and it does what you expect it to do. People naturally learn, love, hunt, eat... all of that never needs to be taught, we just know to do it. That's what we're here for. But you and your folk strip yourselves of your humanity - you marry for politics, you memorise the knowledge of others, you have a man-servant to kill your meat and if you could delegate your eating to someone else you probably would too." Ronan frowned. He was rambling a little and was not entirely sure what he meant to say by all this. Eventually he collected his thoughts and finished his tirade with a grumpy grunt. "Makes me bloody sick."

He sat around the fire with some of the other bandits, motioning for Alianor to sit beside him. Some of them looked positively beastly, almost as if they had orkish blood in them - hulking men, disfigured and scarred, with unkempt beards and mucky faces. They seemed in good spirits though, and the horse meat was becoming increasingly more appealing as they watched it turn on the spit. After a little while Ronan stood up, carved off the first hunk, and shouted 'grub's up' before sitting back down. He offered the meat to Alianor before he ate himself.

"You were riding it earlier. Might as well try it." He grinned. He wondered how she would react to the rich, succulent meat in front of her.

[FernStone]

Alianor made a slight face at the mention of wolf meat, though she tried to hide it. Best not to offend him to much. He was the leader of the bandits, after all, and she'd rather stay alive for now. But the thought of eating wolf just made her feel slightly sick. "Well that all sounds... lovely." She kept her voice steady while trying not to look disgusted. The berries, mushrooms and vegetables didn't sound too bad but she doubted they even considered washing them... Who knew what nasty thing came with food like that from a forest. All in all it didn't sound like a very appetising affair. The smell of the meat, though, as she followed him outside didn't smell too bad. She wasn't sure what it was though and as a result was rather suspicious. Something could smell lovely and taste horrible. And if it was something like a wolf she doubted she could stomach it even if it did smell delicious.

Her blue eyes gradually narrowed throughout Ronan's speech and she tried to contain her... no, it definitely wasn't anger. She wouldn't lower herself to that. Annoyance at what he was saying and how untrue it was. "Not all of us marry for political gain," she snapped, looking like she was close to just giving into her anger and shouting at him, or even trying to attack him. Of course she wouldn't do that. She would try to stay calm, reasonable, allow cold anger to seep through her words. But what he said was lies. Sure some did, but not all. Her marriage had not been for politics. Yes, it had benefited her father, but the marriage had not been arranged. Her husband had asked her to marry him before he got her father's permission. "You speak of something you have no knowledge on. And even so, who are you to judge who has humanity or not. Please do tell me how is paying someone to slaughter an animal worse than killing another man? Or stealing? Because I am failing to see the similarities." She smiled slightly, a cold, obviously fake smile. "Well I have to say I am glad that we are on the same page in that matter. The feeling is mutual, as your people and actions make me sick."

There was a frown on Alianor's face as she carefully sat beside Ronan, brushing her skirts beneath her as she did so. She took one look at the other bandits around the fire, struggling to not show how disturbed she was. She was glad that none of them paid attention to her, apart from a few looks here and there, as there was no way she wanted to interact with any of them. She doubted that they were educated. That was one point in their leaders favour. She cautiously took the meat, looking at it suspiciously. [b]"Oh." As it dawned upon her what this actually was Alianor paled, looking positively sick. No way was she eating this. She couldn't be expected to. She would rather starve. "I think I will be fine, thank you, I am not hungry at the moment. I am sure you're men will appreciate it more." She stared down at the meat for a few more moments before shuddering. No, that was not coming anywhere near her lips. Frowning, she glanced at Ronan.

"How long do you plan to keep me here?"

[WhiteRose]

"I haven't decided yet." Ronan shrugged, taking back the meat and taking a huge bite from it. The juices dripped down his stubbly chin as the beautiful, warm sensation of semi-melted fat filled his mouth. He took a moment to savour, before he continued to speak in a plain, unassuming tone. "I'm not in the habit of killing women, you're valuable, and you probably wouldn't be able to lead anyone back there. On the other hand... I think this will be a good experience for you. Damusrada, I think it was, who said that all things should be tasted, smelled and touched by those raised in cocoons... or something. Can't say I remember the quote. There was something in there about spiders, I think... anyway, I'll probably keep you around until I get bored of you, then sell you to the highest bidder. Probably your daddy, if he really loves you."

"To those born into a woven-silk cocoon, all things seen, touched and smelled are of benefit for the flourishing of the soul." a gruff, cracked voice spoke softly. One of the larger, uglier, bandits had been listening in to the conversation from a couple of feet to Alianor's left. The man was a brute - utterly hairless, beard and brows shaved along with his scalp, and dense black tattoos which resembled fire snaking across the top of his head and around his jaw. "Damusrada, On Eternal Things."

"Gort gets it." Roran said, holding his hand out in the man's direction triumphantly as if that somehow proved him right about everything in the world. "Hey, bud- how 'bout you explain to the princess what it's like out here. I'm trying to show her the beauty -- the pure, untouched beauty -- of a life the way nature intended. She doesn't get it."

"The woman had her life torn from under her earlier today, I doubt she is in much mind to listen. Leave her be, give her some sleep, and after a few nights under the stars the world will seem different to her." Gort nodded sagely. He looked Alianor in the eye, with a strange mix of sadness and determination evident on his face. "I am sorry for that, and for your horse. Fate may often seem cruel, but the divine shall protect or curse those men according to their souls. Until we join them, we must all find our place in the world-- yours may have changed, or may have not, but it is the test of your person to make good with the situation you are in."

There were a few seconds of silence, as the fire crackled softly. Gort looked into the fire moments later, and continued eating. Roran asked him if his headaches were faring well today, and Gort replied that they had been calmer recently.

The bandits talk and eat in good spirits. Before long, the stars are beginning to rise in the sky.

[FernStone]

"Well it is nice to know I currently don't have to fear for my life," Alianor replied with a slightly arched eyebrow. That was a relief. Although she didn't like the idea of him keeping her around... The last thing she wanted was a prolonged stay in this place. Well, she would just have to make sure he got bored of her soon enough. Though she had a feeling that by just talking she was providing some form of entertainment. She didn't like this one bit. She felt so out of control, and she rarely felt out of control. "And I'm sure it will be my father." Though her voice was mostly confident there was some uncertainty now obvious. Although it wasn't like anyone else would want to pay money for a ransom. If her husband had been a live... If he had been. But he wasn't, so she couldn't be certain. It depended on how my her father valued her, really. They had never been to close. After all, she was only a girl.

"I'm impressed," her gaze sharply moved to Gort, head slightly tilted as she appraised him. It was obvious that she was quite shocked to hear something like that coming from the mouth of someone who seemed so... uneducated. He wasn't exactly appealing to look at and, to tell the truth, was rather terrifying. Certainly not some who she had expected to know a line such as that. It was something that she only vaguely recognised, didn't really know, which was slightly embarrassing. This Gort fellow, though, seemed interesting. Maybe all the bandits weren't so bad. Although they were still all murderers and thieves, but at least some were educated murderers and thieves. She was quite taken back by what Gort apologising. Well, that was unexpected. "Thank you, I guess, Gort." She dipped her head, truly lost for words. Certainly not a normal thin when it came to her. She frowned, staring into the fire and ignoring what was going on around her.

She guessed she really was stuck in this situation. She didn't like it, not one bit, but maybe she could learn something useful. Like... no, she couldn't think of anything she could learn from this group of bandits. Wait, that was it! If she learned their ways when she eventually got out she would be able to aid whoever decided to come and capture or execute this bunch. Whatever happened when it was discovered they were in this forest. Yes, that was what she could do.

Her thoughts soon drifted as she gradually began to drift into a half asleep state where she sat, drooping forward slightly. Her thoughts surrounded her family, her father, older brother and two younger brothers, and the one she never managed to have with her husband. It moved through a lot of memories from the past few years, lingering on only a few before moving on. It zoned in on the moment of her husband's death, the terrible sickness that had left him bedridden for months before taking him. She woke with a start, a quiet gasp escaping her lips. She was momentarily confused about where she was, glancing about and stifling a yawn. She was sure she couldn't have been asleep for too long, though the stars where beginning to rise.

"Is it possible to retire for the night? I do not know about you, but I have had a very tiring day." Her glare was accusatory but mostly ineffective considering her rather exhausted state.

[WhiteRose]

Roran smirked at her slightly. Alianor was kind of cute when she slept - the arrogant displeasure seemed to abate slightly, leaving her looking a damn sight more approachable. He chuckled to himself... watching her slumber was like watching a dog twitching in its sleep and guessing what sort of animal it was hunting. The glaring, furious accusations came back in force once she awoke, but Roran didn't begrudge her the resistance. Gort was right, as he usually was: she had not met favourable circumstances today, and she could not be expected to like their lifestyle so quickly. She would come to see the fun of it, eventually.

Roran offered a hand to Alianor, meaning to take her in the direction of the cave which he made his home. The night air was cold, but as soon as the wooden door closed behind them they were met with the warm, welcoming bosom of the fur-lined place. Roran removed his boots again. He hesitated for a moment, then stripped down further to the underclothes he slept in. Torso now uncovered, several distinctive markings were present on his skin. On his right bicep, an unobtrusive tattoo of his family name, gilded in leaves. On his back, a large set of scars that clearly came from some sort of large beast - larger than a bear, surely, but smaller than a dragon. Over his heart was a brand, burned into his pale flesh: the royal seal, marking him out as a member of the old King's Guard.

"Gort is a good man. You better not ruin that." Ronan nodded, taking up a comfortable position with some of his plump pillows at the base of his back. He threw a couple in Alianor's direction, so she could have something to sleep on too. "Best memory I've ever seen on a man, too... I mean, he's nearly a century old and he's still healthy as ever... and sane. I guess that's what magic does to you though- live a life with mana in your blood, it'll make you lively and smart."

Ronan looked at Alianor. She was a curious person, indeed... but not someone he need worry about. In truth, he was tired too, and the warm fur on the floor was increasingly enticing. A part of him wished to snuggle up beside her, pretty thing that she was. But then, the reason she was in his cavernous bedchamber in the first place was to avoid being subjected to unwanted advances. Soon enough, sleep took him and he stopped worrying about that, too.

- - - - -

The sun rose, and Roran began his morning rounds. He decided to leave Alianor in the cave for a while - she would be safe enough there, and he needed to visit his lieutenants before the day's duties began. He had a plan for her, though. To extract the details of her life, the tiny minutia of courtly breeding, was interesting enough - but what he really wanted was for her to be brought to his level, and for the two to speak as equals. As such, he began preparing things to test her mettle when she woke up that morning.

[FernStone]

Alianor, surprisingly, took the hand Ronan offered her and followed him into the cave. The warmth inside was welcome, she had began to get quite cold in what she was wearing (something definitely not made for colder evenings). And she was completely exhausted, really needing some more sleep. At the moment she wasn't too bothered about where she was sleeping or the fact she would be sleeping in the same place as a bandit leader. She didn't really care. If he'd wanted to kill her or do anything else... well he'd had plenty of chances to do so. It wasn't like she had any way to defend herself. She didn't have much power in this situation anyway, but she might as well try to get a good nights sleep.

She couldn't help but glance at Ronan's bare torso, quickly noticing the markings upon it. Of course it was the brand over his heart that caught her attention the most. She stared for a few moments, before glancing away and biting her lip. She recognised that mark... but she wasn't sure where it was from. Her memory was failing her in this respect. It would come to her, she was sure. But it was curious. Why would this bandit leader have a brand she recognised? "I doubt I could ruin that," she sighed, just sounding tired as she managed to just about catch the pillows he threw at her. To the rest she just nodded, concentrating on trying to organise the pillows into something that would be vaguely comfortable to sleep on. Not what she was used to, but then again nothing was. She did catch the fact that Gort was a magic user. Curious. She'd have to remember that.

Yawning again she curled up with the pillows she'd been given, eyes closing. Even exhausted as she was it took her a long while to sleep. Her thoughts kept on straying, and one moment she would be close to sleep when something important would come across her mind that she would have to consider. Even so eventually she drifted off into a deep, and thankfully dreamless, sleep.

- - - - - -

It was late in the morning when Alianor woke, glancing about her surroundings blearily. Sitting up, she stretched with a slight groan. Everything hurt, her legs and back especially, undoubtedly from the trek over here the day before. Now that she was was fully awake and no longer exhausted she felt absolutely horrible. Her dress was in a terrible state and her long, dark hair even worse. Running her fingers through it didn't help at all, apart from getting out a few of the knots. She doubted anyone had a comb around here. She must look quite the picture, not exactly what a noble lady should be like. Even so, standing up she once again held herself with pride and arrogance though there was quite a deep scowl on her face. She was far from happy, sore all over, dirty and really quite hungry. Just the way she wanted to start her day. Deciding that she might as well see if there was any edible food around she headed over to the door, hoping it wasn't locked as she pushed it open.

[WhiteRose]

As Alianor exited the cave sanctuary, she was noticed by a few of the bandits who had been slacking off from chopping firewood nearby. The nudged each other, chuckled a bit, and gave Alianor a few leery looks before one of them eventually had the courage to stride boldly over and grab clumsily at Alianor's hand. By all accounts he was introducing himself with the manners one might expect of a gentleman greeting a lady, however his grip - tight, clenched, slightly painful - told a different story. He smiled to Alianor, gave his name, and said that he and his fellows over by the firewood might be interested in entertaining her now that the 'stick-in-the-mud' Ronan had left her alone. His eyes had a keen, foreboding menace about them, as if every word he spoke had been carefully examined and re-examined to give him the best chances at manipulating his conversation partners. A moment later however, his grip ceased and he was plunged head-first into the dirt.

"Hey! Watch it-" he began, until he saw the hulking frame of Gort looming over him. The giant man grabbed the bandit by his neck and hoisted him into the air. The bandit's friends protested for a little while, but fell quiet when Gort gave them an intimidating glare. "Hey, man, I'm sorry, I... I didn't know you were keen on her... I mean... Gort, man, don't turn me into a meat puppet, man, I don't want to know what that's like..."

Gort threw him down, and the man scampered off. The two bandits who were with him hastily returned to their assigned duties, not daring to look towards Gort and Alianor again. Gort sniffed slightly, then looked to Alianor. "If someone you don't trust talks to you, kick the side or back of their knee as hard as you can. It'll snap. I'll fix them later." he grunted, before wandering off again - a queer ashen smell following him.

A few moments later, Ronan appeared. He frowned at Alianor, not knowing quite how to talk to her. Eventually he decided the direct approach would be most appropriate - thrusting a bow and a quiver stocked with arrows into her hands.

"One of our lads has taken sick, so we're short-handed. I'm told it's traditional for court women to take up target archery, so you're hunting with us. Do you need some trousers, or will our ladyship be wearing her gown tonight?" Ronan waved his hand around in a flowery, mocking way.

[FernStone]

Alianor had glanced about warily upon leaving the cave, scowl still on her lips. She had, of course, noticed the looks from the bandits but hadn't expected on to actually approach her. She tried to pull her hand away, but to no avail, and fear suddenly shot through her mind. Sure she believed Ronan when he said he didn't allow untoward behaviour (if he had something would have happened far earlier) but without him around well... there was nothing stopping him men. She couldn't exactly defend herself and she had no idea how to respond to this man. She doubted a polite denial would work. Her mind was running through all the possibilities, how to get out of this situation, if she could get out of this situation when suddenly the man wasn't gripping her hand any more. She was confused for a few moments, eyes widening as she glanced over at Gort.

"Eh, thank you, Gort," Alianor just about managed to stutter out, looking really quite shocked. Well that had been unexpected... Kick the side or back of the knee. Definitely something she was going to remember. Hopefully something like this wouldn't happen again. She would be more careful next time. She watched Gort as he walked off, obviously curious. He was a strange man and she wondered how he had fallen in with these kinds of people. Beyond his appearance he didn't seem much like a bandit. He seemed quite unlike most of the other men.

"What?!" Alianor had just about shook herself out of her shocked daze when Ronan appeared, shoving a bow and quiver at her. She stared down at it in confusion, before looking back up at him. "You're joking, right?" Her eyes were cold and she looked really quite put out. There was no way she was going out hunting with them. She wasn't going to kill an animal. She wasn't going to do that kind of work. It was beneath her, really. "I will not." Anyway, it wasn't like she would be of any use. Yes it was somewhat traditional for women in the court to learn how to use an archery for target practice but it was not an activity Alianor had ever shown any interest in. She had only learned to shoot a bow at the insistence of her husband. He had believed she should have at least some way of defending herself. "And anyway, I am more likely to hit a tree or one of your men, accidentally," she was quick to put stress on that fact, [/b]"than I am to... you know... hit... an animal."[/b] She glared quite angrily at Ronan. It was all his fault she was having difficulty properly making full, coherent sentences. He could not force her to do something like this. And he was mocking her. Mocking her! "A change of clothes would be appreciated, however." As loathe as she was to wear trousers she would rather that than stay in this dress. It was, after all, rather ruined. Something clean would be better really. Although she was not going hunting. No way.