Mort looks relieved that you're definitely not poachers, and his cheeks rise in a happy smile. They fall again quickly though and he hesitates at Tristan's question, slumping ever so slightly in his saddle. "She's...demanding, sir. I can't say that she's unfair. She expects much, and it has been an honor to ride with her."
The both of you have met many a lord and petty noble in your lives working for Lostwithiel. Most are "demanding," but saying that about them isn't exactly what you'd expect of a sworn knight in their service. His hesitation says that something is amiss, but it's hard to say what the problem is. Perhaps he thinks King Pellinore is under too much pressure and wants to excuse her wrongdoings? Perhaps he is just young and unversed in being diplomatic in this way. You could press him fairly easily if you wish, he's an open book of pride, tradition, and youthful puppy enthusiasm.
Constance and Robena
The ghosts turn to Constance and her feline companion, and they permit Robena to back up around the courtyard and put Constance in between them and herself. There is a terrible bitterness in the crone's eyes.
"Honored?!" She shrieks, and even Robena can make out the words and the form clearly. "You dare call us honored?! Where then is the good pine box for my son that would keep the maggots from his eyes?! Where then the stones that would mark our passing and tell travelers of our great family? Uther's men left our bodies to rot child, and you call us honored." The crone moves her head to spit, were she corporeal. "But very well, you offer yourself for this knight's abandonment. Offer then."
Constance, you know the old ways. There is only one price to be paid here and it is in blood. Yours, Robenas, innocents, traitors, revenge, it is all blood to the ghosts. You could make an oath to pay it back to their betrayers, but that would indeed be an oath to slay King Uther and his most loyal vassals, and that oath would haunt you. The ghost will hear of nothing else, and your power to inspire has no hold over the chill of the grave.
[Constance, the crone denies your right to exhilarate and intoxicate when you win someone over, and they will refuse any boon you beg of them. You may ask your next question, but that is all. Tell us how you respond to this denial.]
The scent of Princess Qiu this close is like fire and thick incense, and it's everything Chen can do not to sway and drop her art. When Qiu guides Chen's hands where they're supposed to go, it's forceful but not unkind and she feels like...oh gosh like she's floating and-and she's doing exactly what she ought to be and everything will be perfect. If she could, she'd just melt right here and let Qiu support her and twirl her about wherever she liked. Then she'd step up on her tippy toes and give Qiu the lightest little kiss and Qiu would lean into it and press her lips together harder and then maybe she'd take a bite and...
Chen's parry comes in the awkward needs of her things. Shard magic is powerful and it can change much. But for all that, it's not a simple thing, not even for three sunshards, to pull something out of a princess's hands when it's something she really cares about, something that she put time and effort into and filled with her excitement and her secret fears. That is Chen's canvas and her sketchbook, holding her most recent work and her older work, that she doesn't just show to anyone, that has the fear of being judged and admonished, and the hope of being loved, and the secret little pleasures of twilight and sunrise and perfect falling leaves. So she should be swept away to dance, but she's holding a canvas freshly painted and a bag with her sketches and her tools and so she can't just be swept up and she can't just focus on Qiu no matter how much she feels that pull.
She nods, of course. She understands, she absolutely wants it to be her having that dance. She doesn't even try to untangle the tail, but she does lean the wrong way. She puts her weight on her own feat, and leans into her bag and her painting. She moves, not strongly, but outside the dance steps. She makes to put her things down somewhere on the ship, she takes the hands that Qiu placed on her body and makes her own decisions about what to do with them, and its with those motions that she can think again.
In her mind, her thought is why? and in that word she means so many things. Why does Qiu need another princess to aid her at all? Why offer such a valuable prize for a handmaiden, even as a way to show off? Why call Chen for this? Why consult a demon as to who her handmaidens ought to be? Why push and even entice Chen to take on this task without telling her anything about it first? In that "why" were a thousand traps and stumbles that could be here for her.
Her riposte is that she doesn't say any of those things and lets Qiu know it. She lets the tail stay in place, she leans back in, but now it's with a little more of her own strength, a bit more of her own center. "Of course" she says, looking Qiu directly in her serpentine eyes now. "Tell me all about her and I'll find you your new handmaiden." And maybe Qiu likes having an opponent that's more than she can eat in a single bite.
[Chen is seduced by evil here (and she's agreeing to the favor), but she's also enticing Qiu in turn. 2+6+2+1=11. Chen gets a string and Qiu needs to pick one of the entice options as well.]
Chen's first thought as she settles her feet upon the ship is...well actually her first thought is that that those shiny golden dragons are extremely effective for confusing an attacker because of the way they weave about and reflect the light. Someone rushing at Qiu would find herself dazzled and it would be hard to keep her eyes focused on any one body part.
Once she resists the initial urge to rush into a duel (it helps that Qiu is boasting and not pushing for the fight) her first thought is that the dress is really really hot. That red dress shining with gold as the blue waterfall rushes past it with each move of Qiu's arm. It flexes and Chen imagines herself being held down by that waterfall bicep, pressing up on her stomach and into her chest.
She blushes, tries to hold onto her bag and her canvas all at once, and takes her eyes off her opponent. She's not...she can't, the scandal if Qiu were to kidnap her alone, both her mother's would be furious! They'd never let her go outside again. B-besides, there's no way the favor that Qiu wanted was anything like t-that. So she tries to put that out of her mind, ignore her own flush (it's just because she got switched from cold climate to warm climate all at once!) and look back up at those beautiful serpentine eyes and that tail luxuriously curled around a slender glass like it could be curled around her waist and slipping down to tickle her legs. Oh...gosh.
"I um...I do, I mean, I want to. T-to do you a favor! Of course!"
[Chen will take the XP and do what Qiu wants. She is also Smitten, but it could never work because they're opposing princesses and Chen's mothers would both never allow it the second they found out.]
To Nin's question, he is as trustworthy as you could justifiably expect. That is, he is young, newer to the King's service, probably gullible, and you can see no malice or concealed intent behind those bright eyes and too-long mussy hair. He clearly serves his knightly oaths, you can see that in his bearing, the way he holds himself too straight. As such, the amount you can trust him is exactly to the point where he perceives your goals to diverge from those of his liege lady, at which point he will do all in his power to serve and protect her whatever that may mean to you.
To your reply, Tristan, he looks a little disappointed. "Ah, you are peasant hunters then? I'm glad that you're hunting monsters. These are the High King's woods and though anyone can hunt a scourge to all, if you were after anything else, you'd be poaching. You're not poachers, right? Oh please, I don't want to have to tell the King you're poachers after she was so nice to you."
He probably doesn't really think you're poachers (it's anyone's guess whether he's ever met a poacher, he ought to know better based on the quality of your gear and bearing). His disappointment most likely stems from the fact that he had hoped to meet skilled and senior knights or nobles in another's service and learn from your experience. And his assumption that anyone without a lord to serve is at some level inferior. How do you respond to him?
Constance
Constance, Cath is indeed weighty. She feel as though you are lifting at least ten stone in such a tiny body and it is a struggle to gather her to you, though you manage the task with all the strength that your ancestors gifted you. Your reward for your efforts is that Cath gathers herself in your arms, extends her face, and gives you a gentle bop with her head right on the cheek. She is also digging her claws somewhat uncomfortably into your arm, but this too is a sign of her immediate affection.
You would have thought that the ghosts would now be making their demands of you. But in fact, they have turned their attention to Robena. You can see now outlines of individuals for they have closed in. A young girl perhaps just shy of her teens, cut and scarred, her dress ripped around her legs. Her parents, lord and lady Brythys, dressed in funereal garb and holding themselves somberly. And one you'd guess is a grandmother, the image of the wealthy crone with long wispy hair beneath a bonnet and a long black dress obscuring a spindly body. You can feel a murderous intent coming from them, especially the crone.
Robena is ill-equipped for this. You must help her at once!
Robena
You cannot see the ghosts so clearly as Constance, but you know nevertheless that they have turned their attention on you. The cold chill is deep in your spine now, and you can see the outlines creeping towards you. Faint whispering comes to you, and you realize that they are the ghosts of the Brythys who once lived here and that they know you.
"Where were you?" the whispers echo around you. "Where was our lady's strongest knight when she was most needed?" "Off in the east, the lands of sorcery and pleasure" "She was weak." "She abandoned us." "She betrayed us." "You abandoned your oaths."
This last is in the voice of an old crone, the family matriarch of the Brythys. You might remember her, you surely met her when you were young, she would have been in attendance at all the Lostwithiel jousts and festivals. This is very dangerous and there is little time to act before they will be upon you.
Chen: painting yes but pass on single combat Chen: problem maybe tell me first Chen: and you'll owe me a favor if I help Chen: also if this is an elaborate attempt to kidnap me, good timing =P Chen: be down in a sec :curious tiny leopard:
The sunset and the painting have Chen in a good mood. Good enough to hop down and share her work. Nowhere near good enough to give Qui her epic fight though (If that mood existed, she was pretty sure it would cause linguists to create some kind of new word to describe the ultimate charity it represented). She grimaces when the second heart-shaped firework goes off. Was that really necessary? Really?
With a sigh that can't quite dim her excitement at the evening's work, Chen gathers her brushes, drying them on the grass, and her easel, which folds up, and places them both in a light tan leather bag that she slings over her shoulder. With the bag arm, she carefully takes her canvas and cradles it between arm and elbow, and with the other she takes hold of her crystal sword. The light within it dances in excitement, zipping up and down along the length of the blade and shimmering with a whitish glow tempered to lavender by the glorious notes of twilight. She holds the slim sword aloft, calling on the wind that is her family's ancestor and then points it forward and arches her body.
If one of the bystanders had just returned from space, knowing nothing of sunshards and Princesses, they might think Chen drunk and falling to her certain doom as she leans off the cliff. But anyone who knows anything about swords and Princesses knows that sword flight is one of the keen markings of a Princess of high rank. Though she might not enjoy the role, Chen is more than talented enough for it, and so as she slides from the cliff, the wind takes her gently and her sword guides her forward in a swift but gentle arc down to the boat with the second heart-shaped firework.
In less than a minute, she glides down to the deck of the boat, first her sword hand coming over the prow, then one fur-lined foot, the other still held aloft with her white wool coat flapping around the leg and her ponytail flying behind her. As she comes to rest, she lowers her sword and brings her back leg down with a practiced grace as the wind calms and her hair settles. For just a moment as she focuses on herself and her motions, she looks every bit the regal daughter her mothers would both want. Poised, graceful, and prepared to take on any challenge. When she's done though, she ruins it with a worried glance down at her canvas to make sure that the paints dried and not a drop was smeared. And, of course, she forgot to wipe off the dot of indigo on her lower lip in her hurry.
At first, Chen ignores her phone. She's got it face down on top of the thin but stubborn little moss that makes its home on every little rock and bare spot amid the tall grass. It's the perfect phone perch: she'll know that it buzzed, but the moss is soft and fluffy so it's muffled, not too startling even though it's within easy reach. There's no message from anyone, anyone in the whole wide world, that's such an emergency that it can't wait for her to touch up a few things before she looks at it. Anybody who thought they were that important was way too full of themselves.
She glances back up at the horizon as the red leaves pass her, settling somewhere on the hillside below. She has to get that down on her paper while the image is fresh in her mind. She takes her brush, licks it between her lips to get the little fibers just so. She knew she wasn't supposed to use her mouth with the brushes that way, but it felt good and her paints were all made from natural materials and weren't poisonous so she had decided it was perfectly fine. Besides, her indigo paint tasted like a tart little berry and she liked it. A little dot of indigo gets on her chin though. She'd have to remember to wash that off on the way back or her mother would give her that withering glance that made her want to shrink into nothing and pray the floor would open up to swallow what was left.
No time to think about that, she had to paint the leaves! She dips her brush into the little palette and fills it with red. Hers is bright red, like a fresh fall apple. They'll get those soon with leaves like these, but the flying oak leaf on indigo is a little darker, not so bright. So she adds just a touch of gray, transforming her red with that odd glorious gray of twilight that was made up of a thousand other colors. She adds the leaves to her little easel in a few quick, steady strokes as she breathes out. There, there, and there, and now it was perfect, that little bit of pastoral essence over the strange space elevators in the background capturing the soul of the world. She'd have to title it. "Fall Leaves" was the first thing coming to her, probably because that was the last thing she'd just painted, but that was so boring it made her want to smack herself for even letting the idea cross her mind. "Electric Twilight?" Too pretentious. "Imperial Autumn" was just as bad and worse her mother would probably like that one. Maybe...oh right the phone, she was just letting her mind wander now.
With a sigh, she lifts it up to see who messaged her. Then with a sudden start, Chen's head snaps up. Her raven black hair (tied back in a tight ponytail so it wouldn't blow into her easel) bounces up in response and her fluffy red scarf (nearly the same red as the leaves) loosens a little, one tail falling over her shoulder. Was Qiu here somewhere? Chen wasn't in any state for a dance off, her hands were freezing and she was stiff from sitting in the same place for an hour even with her warm wool coat and fur-lined boots. Seeing no doom instantly descending on her though, she turns to the phone at last.
Chen: yeah, I saw it Chen: did a really good painting Chen: like Chen: seriously good Chen: but I dunno what to call it... Chen: uh where are you?
Interestingly, after the initial flurry, the knights set a more sedate pace. They must have only charged into the gallop when they caught wind that the beast was within striking range, and it may perhaps be reassuring that they care for their horses and do not ride them to death, especially in the uneven terrain and soft soil that the forest presents. King Pellinore herself has ridden ahead for the moment and without her presence, all her knights settle in their saddles in a way that looks entirely more human than anything you've seen in quite a while. A few even begin to chat with each other quietly, and for the first time since you've been under the canopy, you can hear distant birdsong. A sign, perhaps of the resilience of the place, or the limited influence of the Questing Beast and its hunters?
You are free to speak with each other, but when there is a lull, one of the King's knights will ride up to you and remove his helmet, showing a young man's thin and beardless face with wide eyes and long brown hair flowing over both ears. "My name's Mort, and I hope you'll forgive my lady her haste. Her family is bound to hunt and defeat the beast, you see. Might I ask what liege you serve and what errand carries you so far into these dark woods?"
Constance and Robena
The answer to Constance's question was ambiguous for a moment, but Robena has decided the issue for you. Cath has been addressed directly and perked up her head. It is of the utmost imperative that you make her an offering immediately or she will take you for a danger and retreat. Amid the rubble and ruin, it could be quite the task to find her, especially if she retreats within the stone keep itself, which would be dark as the abyss and half again as cramped.
The ghosts, in comparison, can wait, though rest assured that when you have Cath eating out of your hand, they will demand their due attention. Robena, though you lack Constance's sensitivity, you too can begin to feel them in the form of a cold chill as they draw near. What methods have you learned for calming resentful spirits in your travels?
Constance, it's barely any effort for you to cross the courtyard, for dirty and rough as it is, the old stones pay you their respect and do not stand in your way. Tell us how you each entreat the haughty cat and how she came to be in your arms?
Looks: Dark eyes and raven hair to just below the shoulders, a short frame and a small round face with a mouth that smiles easily but eyes that are more used to looking weary than joyful.
Clothes: Woven wools with fancy stitching and sometimes beadwork. A wide variety of clothing in the wardrobe mostly in whites, pastel blue, and the deeper purplish hue of the twilight. A favorite woolen scarf, thick and trailing down both sides of the back, in deep dawn sky red.
Sword: An ancestral sword of sharpened crystal that sometimes glows with a swirling white light that represents the winter tempest.
Leopard: Her name is Li, she is a little snow leopard with the best thick paws and the cutest long fluffy tail in the whole wide world. She is also a spoiled brat and knows how to get palace treats from everyone, even when she’s just been fed.
Daring -1 Grace +2 Heart +3 Wit +0 Spirit +0
Destiny: Reunite and take over leadership of the alliance, defeat the three-shard princess and restore proper order to the land (just easy stuff, right?)
Aspects: When acting in accordance with an aspect, check it off and take +1 forward. For tragic, also one XP. Check all four means Destiny draws closer and start over [ ]Heir to a mystic power (heroic) [ ]Legendary skill (heroic) [ ]Arch-Nemesis (tragic) [ ]Seduced by evil (tragic)
One (1) full round of destiny moving closer.
The Fated Day Approaches: Whenever you miss an opportunity to make progress towards your Destiny, choose 1: Someone with power over you makes an uncomfortable demand in furtherance of your Destiny, backed by a threat The PC you care about the most receives bad news or has an accident serious enough to make them Stagger The GM will tell you the details, inspired by your Destiny. They may wait until a lull in the action to drop the consequences on you.
Don’t You Know Who I Am?: When you meet someone who knows you by reputation (you decide), roll +Heart: 10+: Say two things they’ve heard about you 7–9: You say one, the GM says one
Help Me~~!: You’re a magnet for trouble and hunted by those who would use you for their own purposes. Others mark XP when they Defy Disaster that would otherwise befall you. In addition, whenever you’re captured, your captor reveals something they hope to achieve; gain a String on them and mark XP.
Impressive Swordplay: Whenever you roll a 7+ to Fight, you may gain a String on someone who is present and ask their player what it is about you that has impressed or intrigued them.
Truths of Heart and Blade Love Is Not My Destiny: When you become Smitten with someone, say why, give them a String, and answer this question: How do our respective stations make it impossible to be together? Inescapable Conclusions: When you Figure Out a Person during a physical conflict, you may ask one additional question from this list, even on a 6-: What do you hope for your future? What do you fear is your destiny?
Strings 1 on Princess Qiu Tian 1 on Rose from the River 1 on Elkibrant (and Vogodoris?) 1 on Cyanis
Advancement experience: [x][x][][][]
[ ]Take another move from your playbook [ ]Take another move from your playbook [X]Take a move from any playbook [ ]Take a move from any playbook [X]Add 1 to a stat (max stat of 3) [ ]Add 1 to a stat (max stat of 3) *** [ ]Switch to a new playbook [ ]Live happily ever after
The History of our Clan of the Northern Wind
The North Wind When the peerless archer first shot the suns, the tenth sun fled and the world knew darkness for the first time in a thousand thousand years. The moon, which had always been present but hidden, smiled and gazed down at the world amid the twinkling stars. The north wind, which wished always to blow cold and had been asleep in a sunbeam for a thousand thousand years gathered itself up to howl across the land. At first, the elements revelled in their freedom. The people who came upon this land of twilight and darkness shivered. The light of the moon and stars offered them no warmth, and the north wind yowled and screeched so loudly that they huddled together for warmth and knew that they had to leave as quickly as possible.
It was after they had left, and the remaining sun had settled on its timid race across the sky, sheltering in dawn and twilight that the wind found someone truly interesting. She would come to be known as the first princess of the northern wind. She did not cower and huddle in a cave, seeking to hide her face. Her hair was as white as the snow surrounding her, but she let it fly long and free and began to dance with the wind, spinning and twirling where it would take her. And so, in its curiosity, it took her to the fallen sun in the furthest north, which huddled in the ice. Every little beam of starlight that touched it reflected a rainbow, and then a hundred rainbows from the crater of ice in which it rested, casting them into the sky as the northern lights. Yet, when the princess touched it, it was not cold. She built her castle there, in the heart of the wind and ice, and became a proud queen of hardy, wild people who danced with her in the twilight.
It is said that the queen never married because the north wind refused to be tied down so. But she had a daughter who inherited her talent and her magic. And thus the line of the northern wind was established.
Broken Hearts Before the balance of the crystals was broken and there was arrogance and alliance and discord, one of these queens fell in love. She did not fall in love with a dancer in the snow like herself, nor with the wind, but with a southern queen who she met dallying in the gardens of an oasis far from home. She was intrigued by a bright smile hidden behind lavender silk, and she lost herself to the faint scent of cinnamon and incense and was smitten. At first they could not bear to be apart, and when the duties of their queendoms forced them to separate, the northern queen enlisted the wind to be as gentle as it could and whisper messages to her distant lover, then carry back her response.
They had a daughter, who the queen named Chen. Her hair was the black of the night sky and in her youth her mother taught her and her other mother to dance in the old northern style beneath the night sky. She was a happy child, full of life and magic. She loved to paint the sunrises and sunsets, and she was perceptive and talented in her studies. The pride of both her parents and their kingdoms. They expected great things.
But then there was inequality. Crystals were consolidated, magic seized, families hurt. Chen’s mothers tried to unite with the other queens to make things right, but there were pressures they had never resolved and it had been a long time since the heady days when they were always together. There was shouting in the palace. The alliance should be centered in the north, no in the south. Chen needed to speed up her training, no she was still too young and needed shelter. Chen hadn’t traveled as much as her southern mother would have preferred and was losing out on her culture and half her magic, but no, she needed a stable home. The Alliance should strike fast before the dual magics were combined, no it needed to pool its power and strike decisively. They had a duty to negotiate, they ought to negotiate from a victory. On and on.
It became apparent that Chen’s mothers were not up to the task of leading together, and so they split apart into two factions. Each confident they could marshal their resources and that Chen would come of age and lead them to victory and peace.
Wanderlust And what of Princess Chen of the Northern Wind? Her parents think her a prodigy, capable of matching the three-shard princess and restoring the balance of the queendoms. Nobody has bothered to ask what she wants to do or spared a thought for what she might wish of the world beyond her studies and her duties. She is to be queen, perhaps a queen among queens until things are set right. There is no time for painting nor to hike up to the snowy peaks and spend hours watching the sunrise. She knows her duty and wishes she could please both her parents and only occasionally imagines fleeing to the top of the tallest peak with someone who could hold her hand and watch the sunrise.
Foggy Days
The ice gets so cold sometimes that when the sun darts across the sky, instead of melting it, the sudden heat pulls up a cold mist that obscures everything. Nobody goes out when it’s like that. Everything’s wet instantly even in the thickest, best-oiled furs, and you’re just as likely to walk right into the water without knowing it and need to spend the rest of the day in front of the hottest fire with a big cup of cocoa as you are to do anything productive.
Those are the days I go out! I love the feeling of the wet mist on my hair and my cheeks. I love looking for little sunbeams breaking through the mist. It’s the perfect time for fishing because the fish can’t tell the air from the water and come right up to the surface for a look around. And, the best part is, nobody else is around and you can’t see anywhere, so once I’m outside, there’s nobody around to tell me that I’m supposed to be somewhere else!
Sure, when I get back after a day out like that, my mother makes me spend the whole night in spiritual contemplation before the sunshard to better understand my duty (and if I fall asleep, then it’s the whole next day too!) but it’s still worth it. When else would I get to meet a harbor seal or capture a memory of the mist parting just at midday for a sparkling rainbow across the falls to paint?
I know my duty, I know I’m responsible for upholding the motto and the tenets of my clan at Sourcefall. My mother made me memorize them when I couldn’t even walk:
The greatest strength is courage To find courage, seek focus amid chaos Focus is the righteous path, do not give sway to fear or consort with evil Fear is born from mediocre training, cultivate skill and poise Skill is built with discipline and patience
But I’ve seen mother dance, and I’ve heard the stories of when our house was young and I don’t see how anyone could have gone out dancing with the Northern Wind with beliefs like these. I think somebody wrote it down later because they wanted to explain the courage of our first Princess and they didn’t like the idea that somebody would just go dancing with the North Wind because it seemed fun! So they decided instead that all the little princesses of the family had to read and train and learn spiritual contemplation so they could commune properly with the sunshard. I mean, it works, I’m really good at using the sunshard’s magic, but who cares?
What I care about is catching a good fish and then getting a seal to come close enough to let me pet it. I care about traveling more than once in a blue moon and actually meeting people on the road instead of staying in a big procession. It was like trying to wear down a mountain to even get mother to train me in how to handle captivity, and if not for mom, I don’t think she’d have cracked, but mom made it clear that was a necessary skill for travel to the south. I miss her. Mother says I take after her, but she says it with a sniff that makes me pretty sure it’s not a compliment. And since the alliance broke up, I haven’t been allowed to leave Sourcefall. It’s dumb and I want to meet people!
But...I guess I care about our clan too. And making Mother and Mom happy. And respecting our elders. And protecting our people. And making sure that the rest of the world doesn’t get messed up by some stupid princess who steals all our sunshards. I know they need me, I’m trying my hardest!
But at least there are foggy days. Mist beading into little droplets tickling my chin and collecting along my hair. The little fish and seals, and maybe someday I’ll meet someone wandering the mist too and we can go on an adventure together! Or something like that.
King Pellinore watches your display of affection with a cold but tolerant remove. She does not interrupt, but instead gestures to one of her men who brings up a spare horse. "We only have the one, I'm afraid, one of my squires navigated poorly and was thrown from his horse. We left him to recover at a nearby town north of the forest before we entered properly. You'll have to ride together. The beast is surprisingly slippery, but you've confirmed it was just here, so haste is the name of the hunt, hurry if you don't wish to be left behind."
With that she spurs her own horse forward without even waiting for you to mount, though a few of her knights are more courteus. Left to her own devices, it's difficult to say if she'll find the beast or not and where both of them will go. Honor would compel you to stay with the party of your rescuers, but cunning suggests that you may wish to ride ahead and try to head off both King and Beast to keep the both in the forest. For if they do battle near anyone else, it will be fatally unpleasant for them.
Robena
You ride with determination and Apricot, despite any protestations, knows her rider and gallops as you direct (with perhaps a few unnecessary bumps for Constance as the horse picks up speed). You're at the old castle in no time, and you dismount to avoid creating a commotion and scaring off the cat or attracting whatever dark things the traveler may have referenced.
As you approach quietly on foot, you can see that the castle is empty and rather battered. The moat is old and dry, the bridge lowered and the front gate long since rusted off its hinges and lying halfway into the pit next to the bridge. Inside, the entryway to the courtyard is uncovered and exposed to the elements save for a few mossy beams, and the inner keep, though solid, has no doors left to it, likely having been broken into by brigands or animals long ago. The courtyard itself is strewn with stones and loose debris: old bags and leather that has been covered with fungus until it's barely distinguishable from the dirt, and loose soft wood mixed with the stones. Once, this might have been a mighty practice field, but no longer, the work of the nature and time has been thorough indeed.
You may recall, from your youth, that this castle once belonged to the Brythy family, who were known for their forest hunts and their independent streak. They had only a single daughter, and she was slain by the forces of King Uther Pendragon during the early conquest, for the Brythys had opposed his unity and been part of one of the armies that fought him on the field. Without an heir, the family had faded away and the retainers had abandoned the keep, though it had not been like this when you left. You had heard stories that it was haunted, and the family consorted with ghosts. Perhaps that has kept most travelers at bay and made for the trouble here.
Constance is foolishly creeping ahead of you, which may be unsafe.
Constance
You see much of what Robena does, but your eyes see more still. The moat here was once fed by a river that flowed from the forest. Though it is dry and faded, you can see what once was and it respects your right to the old blood. You can feel the resentment from the place. Angry ghosts live here and they would treat with you. Their essence compels you ahead of Robena as you approach, and so you are the first to see the extraordinarily plump white cat, black spot easily visible on her back, perched atop a short broken stone pillar in the courtyard. She is paying the whole thing no mind as she basks in a late-afternoon sunbeam and stares straight at you with her two-colored eyes yellow and blue eyes. The lockbox is not visible, but may be nearby.
Both Cath and the spirits beg your attention, and the wrong move may set off one or the other. What do you do?
The Questing Beast runs. Through some combination of luck, fate, and connection, it lets Nin go and sprints away, its claws digging into the moist earth and raising another, higher hill behind it. Nin, you're left simply standing in the clearing as the knights pull up and whistle for their dogs before they set upon you. Tristan, you are presented to them first, at the base of your tree and it is to you that King Pellinore turn her horse towards.
You have been around many a horse and its rider, but that does not make one any less of an imposing sight. King Pellinore is a tall woman and her mail and tabard are well-made and sturdy. Her horse is itself a tall black stallion, and so you find yourself looking up at a woman whose armored lower legs are comfortably at your head height.
"In the name of High King Uther Pendragon" she speaks down formally to you, "I beseech your aid. We heard clearly the braying of the great Questing Beast, whose death is destined to be at the hands of my house. Tell us where it went and, if you have the means, you are welcome to join our great hunt and share in the glory of our victory when we have defeated the villain. Hinder us, and you will swiftly face the King's justice."
Tristan, though you may not realize it at first glance, this too is something unnatural and you can sense it with Pellinore so near to you. But it is hidden from you, something about the enchantment here is subtle and obscured, you cannot see past the gleaming mail and the bright heraldry on this high horse. [Your right to roll weird when you encounter something unnatural is being denied.]
Robena and Constance
There is a moment where it all seems as though it might go wrong. Constance will be thrown from Apricot and trampled under an overeager donkey, while Robena meets her fated end at last. But it is only for the briefest instant. Apricot comes under control, Constance loses no more than what remained of her dignity, and the mule with its carrot is content not to move another muscle.
The traveler gives you a small clap. "Bravo, you truly are as strong as they say, and nobler even than I had expected. If you find her, my little Catherine is white with a black patch on her back. We all just call her Cath, so she'll answer to that. The box ought to just be near the remains of my fire unless the cat or the ghosts moved it. I'd prefer not to ride back the way I came, but if returning to me would inconvenience you, I'll happily make my way along with my good master until the castle is in sight, though I'll go no closer than that no matter what comes of it."
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Noctis
The Infamous
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Master EffeX