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Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar paused. It was only reasonable for the boy to be concerned, all things as they were.

He pointed behind and generally upward.

'At greasy sumbitch up 'ere knowed too damn much. Like how you'd be 'ere at'all. Da way he said ya was in a 'convoy', an it were in trouble. Only convoys ya been in were ya huntin' group --ol' fellar survive' buh the way-- an' em murderin' ass pustules as drug ya here. Hell, we's followinleads from li'eral DEAD people tryin ta get leads on ya,an' scryin day an night af'er. Weren't sure if'n ya was 'ere or at pesti. More 'an dat, I blocked de damn roads in TREE differn' places 'tween here an' dere, an he jus' stroll in!?'

He huffed a breath.

'--An 'AT slippery sumbitch gone an dun knowed right where ya is, like he knowed da whole time? What he take us for, mo'rons? I tells ya, they werent no odder clues where yas was bagged as would point here, how dat fucker know? I aint riskin losin sight a ya fer nuttin, at's what. We gittin' you outta 'ere, and back home ta ya pappy, or dyin' tryin!'

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

The slippery talk continued upstairs as cedar reached a heavy wooden door with well worn tracks on the floor leading through it. It was of course, shut tight.

"I assure you I am not here to disturb your mission for my own personal gain, or to seek any kind of fame. Please resume your plan as you see fit, all I ask is for us to be with you until we reached the capital. You may choose any route you prefer and share not your thoughts with us, that is fine with me."

Came that buttery voice through the overhead flooring.

(The hell you say, you slippery leech.) He roiled inwardly, looking for how to open the damn door.

It had a bit of a sticky latch, and he did not dare try beating on it. The prince however, seemed keen on getting out too, and had smaller and more nimble fingers. After a few attempts, he got the door latch unstuck, and the door open.

Cedar gave him a silent gesture of approval, then the two slid into the cramped and musty service corridor, closing the sticky latch behind them.

The floor sloped downward, and the corridor was cramped, at least by cedar's standards. He was relegated to going on all fours to avoid crouching, and it was barely wide enough for 2 humans. Cedar had no choice but to walk behind the prince into the gloom...

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar glowered. He found he did not like this man upstairs, whoever he was.

('The prince's convoy', and 'in trouble' my soggy furry ass!) He raged inwardly. He knew well enough that the prince had been ABDUCTED, and further, that the abductors had been murderers and shysters. They had MURDERED Reinhold's friend, and the old hunter had not slept in DAYS from tracking their sorry bitch asses here.

Whoever that sweet talking asshole upstairs was, he had given himself away.

He pointed furtively in the direction the draft was coming from to the prince, and moved as silently and with purpose as he could.

That buttery son of a bitch would NOT worm his way into running off the prince, even if it killed him.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar's teeth instinctually bared, and his ears couldn't decide if they wanted to be pricked up in alertness, or flattened back in irritation. The conversation had overtones of barbed caution, but staunchly refused to land on either side of the question his instincts demanded answer to.

Friend, or Foe?

The prince had finished tugging on a pair of worn suede leather trousers and a coarse linen cambric shirt, but had done nothing about the fancy haircut... or the manicured fingernails. An attentive person would still spot him. He also reeked like fine castille soap, but cedar knew human noses were awful, and gave that a pass.

He needed an exit plan, just in case, and snuffed intently at the room, seeking cues about drafts, or frequently used avenues through the cellar used to move the goods around. He doubted very much that they lugged the oversized pickling barrels down here via the stair leading to the dining hall-- that would be absurd.

A draft caught his nose, from one of the far walls.

So, at least there was a way out if the cellar... he needed a way to secure the prince. With furtive purpose, he loosed a rope wrapping from one of the larger barrels, and began wrapping and looping it about himself.

The prince looked at him confusedly and expectantly, but he held a blunted claw to his lips, urging silence.

The rope reeked of sour kraut.

He kept working, continuing to listen intently.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Passing the preserved comestibles with a delighted interest in them (and plucking a copious handful of sundried raisins from a nearby barrel into an eager mouth) Cedar made his way with the prince to the far back of the cellar.

His enthusiasm and mirth at being practically surrounded by food quickly gave way to dread, as an unfamiliar voiced drifted in from upstairs, sendung his fur upright and bristly despite the wet and mud. He had blocked the roads himself-- NOBODY should be paying a housecall!

Silently, he motioned the prince to remain quiet, and hurry getting changed while he listened intently to what was happening upstairs...

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar's ears flattened at the shrill laughter, with the whites of his eyes showing, but made no other sign of the declaration.

Hesitating a moment after Jazdia left, he remembered his manners.

"Oh.. uh.. Right.... muh name's Cedar, dat o'er dere be Kaito, an at's Veronica skulkin in the shadow back 'ere. 'Vonnie yah seem ta already knows-- an summare 'round 'ere be doct'r Solom'n-- good ta meetcha Alec, but naow, we REALLY gotta git ya outta em 'I's loaded wit' cash, please hol' meh fer ransom!' Nighties, an inta sommat less eye catchin, an quick."

"Nono, no' upstai'rs, at's where all da rich people stuff be at, naw, we lookin fer poor folk clothes-- daownstai'rs! Off we go!"

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

"Hmm,... dat a goo' poin'... but dey does taste like rott'n ass.." he muttered back, before palming another loaf of bread from the bounty and hobbling back to the opened trunk, this time extracting a red vial.

"Dontcha worry kiddo, 'slong as ya keeps outta sight, an' does what we tells ya wit'out askin' 'buncha questions, should be right 'tas rain."

He popped the seal on the red flask, hesitated a second, then downed it before uttering gagging and other sounds of protest while slamming a fist against the wall.

'Hot dayum! Dis yer idear o' a joke lady!? At's nastier an' usual! I think i'd radder DIE 'an drinks anodder of 'em narshty bottles a troll piss!'

He tapped his other leg on the floor experimentally, then stood on it freely.

'Works 'dou. But DAYUM.'

He shoved the bread into his face, eager for something to take the foul taste out of his mouth, then turned toward the prince and Jazdia again, noting forvthe first time the livid scowl she had.

"We gotta git him inta sommat nobuddy gunna knowed he were a prince in. Dirty up his hair a bit, an put im in common clothes. Hide 'im in plain sight. I's got plenty a dirt....' he muttered. 'We gotta fin' 'im some clothes.'

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

"Aww, leave the boy be!" Drawled the bear, stretching, before wincing, then starting to unwrap his left pawlike hand and arm.

"Don' count ya chik'ns afores they's hatched-- as what ma pappi taught meh. We kin haggle 'th'r majesties' when we gits 'im home...'

He stretched out the withered looking and disheveled 'hand', then made a grimace along with a fist with it, as eerie coronas whirled about it for a moment, then flexed it approvingly.

'No sense pattin yaself o da back fer a job half finish'd, naw is dere?' He quipped with a mischievous hint of a smile before moving to the other hand.

'On da odder hand....'

Once more with the wrappings getting unfurled, the wincing, fist clenching, and eerie blue glow.

'Ain't no harm lettin' the boy know 'e might consider wha'tis we mights all 'preciate fer da trouble, naw is dere?'

He made a sparkly eyed and big toothy grin that rapidly turned to a grimace as he unwrapped his chest and torso, sucked a beath, then shimmered in blue again.

He turned his attention to Jazdia.

'Anuh idears on how we gunna do 'at? Bout did us in, showin at old conjurer da door-- aint nona'us good fer nuttin right naow.... I' dat bread I smells?'

He limped toward the table, wrangling one of the leg splints free, as he went pausing to shove an entire roll in his face with a contentment that seemed out if place, before swallowing hard, leaning on the remains of the table and grimacing again. Blue light blooming around the leg then vanishing before taking a pause.

'uh might need anodder bottle....'

He muttered.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

The spectacle caught cedar's attention, as yvonne dropped a sizable cask of wine down on the table and broke the seal.

Normally, he'd eagerly oblige getting shit-faced hammered. He really liked alcohol, and rather enjoyed the infrequent trips to the inn with his dad, but today he really felt it would be a terrible mistake with his weakened constitution. Just another disappointment on the growing pile of them that today had brought.

However, the bright blue potion caught his eye (though to him it was a tossup if it was blue or purple, but it had the right smell), and he DID know he wanted that.

Deftly imbibing the last of the hamhock in a way that bespoke lots of practice putting food away, he sat the bone down, then shambled toward the stoppered flask and took it without asking, popped the wax seal on the cork, and downed it in one go before making a VERY contented expression as it took effect.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

At first there was no reaction from the bear, still breathing deeply in slow rhythmic breaths, until suddenly and without warning he made a snorting sound, the breathing stopped, and a mighty bandaged arm swooped the plate near his face as he awoke from his dreamless torpor into a dazed and feral state.

It was like this coming out of winter hibernation too; all hunger, disorientation, and wild instinct as the mind struggled to pull itself together and the body went on fully automatic responses. At least coming out from it this time he wasn't constipated or dehydrated, but the splints and dressings encasing his body and limbs made his movements clumsy and awkward-- the broken and fractured bones they were supporting drove a hot nail of pain through every action. It took several seconds of this raw torture for his mind to reengage, by which time he had already inhaled half the hamhock laid in front of him.

Human-like awareness came like the buzzing of angry bees in his aching head, bouncing first from terror at finding himself in unfamiliar surroundings, alarm at finding himself eating something without knowing where it came from, shock and dismay about having bindings on, and a flurry of other emotions and worries as the light of consciousness replaced the feral gleam in his eyes.

Deliberately, he sat the half-consumed roasted leg of pork down, inhaled deeply then coughed from the pain in his ribs, before shuddering, then looking around the room.

Memory of where he was, how he got there, who these people were, why his whole body hurt like he had gotten in a fight with a troll, and realization that the tight bindings surrounding him were not ropes, but splints and bandages --somebody had tended him while he was out-- clicked into place.

He sat there, half supported on his front limbs while still laying down with his hind quarters for several more seconds, drawing his bearings, appraising the situation, and feeling like a grand fool. He always felt vulnerable and self-conscious about the post-hibernation confusion. It was way too easy to hurt someone in that state and not even know it. Add to that, painful traumatic memories of the Rascade dungeons, and the sensations of being bound...

He shuddered, and gently shook his head.

'How long wuz I out?' He asked flatly, as much to save face as to break the silence.

The hamhock smelled and tasted better than it had any reason to.

He looked down at himself, and winced at what he saw-- emaciation, slack skin in loose folds, and mud-matted fur encased in clumsy bandages. Somebody had removed his robes-- a quick scan of his head showed them draped over the remains of the low bench he had been seated on during that so-called breakfast that morning.

This day had well and truly been terrible in every way he could imagine.

Suddenly, over the collage of fresh food, woodsmoke, unwashed humans, charred flesh, and acid-ruined everythings, a familiar scent he had committed to memory days earlier caught his attention. He swung his head altogether too quickly i that direction and snuffed loudly, before once more becoming acutely selfconscious of the spectacle.

There, near Madame Matilda, was the prince.

'Oh, thank what'er gawds may be, i's da prince!'

Relief washed over him like a cool splash in a mountain stream. He laid back down with the hamhock in front of him, and tried to relax.

'We got 'im.. we actually got 'im...' he muttered to himself, before resuming his meal, much more humanlike in the actions this time.