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

"Well uh.... Uhm.. Mebbe not come in. I's radder durty. Bit o' a mishap wit da weader 'n all...." stammered the bear, motioning at the dirt literally clinging to him in angry pointed spikes where it had dried.

"Ain't got time fer a bath firs... so, dis'll have ta do." He made a plaintive gesture at his appearance. "Dun wanna track all 'at in."

He flicked his ears, huffed a sigh, then continued.

"Well, I dun think dey gunna be askin' fer rooms tunight. Jus' stoppin ta rest da horses, git a drink, and such. Me? I's hopin' fer kitch'n & tab'l scraps. Anuthin' ya was gonna jus' toss out--s'long as i' aint moldy er gone rancid. 'work' tuhday really took it outta me."

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

Cedar took the moment to get down off of the carriage, and move around. Being up there was not at all comfortable, and holding still for so long was not good for the circulation.

Discretely, he slipped away and out of sight for a few moments to deal with toileting, then returned back to the elven man's inn.

His fur and robes were still caked with mud, now crusty and dried in place and not at all suited to entering an eating establishment, so he decided to politely inquire through the door about getting any extra day-old products that they would otherwise have to just toss out.

(In his childhood growing up with his family-- such as it was-- the very idea of "extra" when it came to food was a nonsense suggestion. However, the topic had come up later in life, once his dad had decided he was old enough to go drinking with. That is to say, Any food cooked, was food that was eaten-- Even if everyone had plenty when it was prepared and brought out. Food simply did not sit around long at home-- if nothing else, his mom would habitually just claim it, and pack it away. "Saving things for later" was a thing his dad did, and only his dad did-- and that was specifically to survive the winter with. In this case, he was aware that store keepers would make a certain amount of product for casual one-off sales, many routine orders for the village residents who should come and make pickups-- usually such orders were paid in advance or had very reliable business relationships to cover them-- and most of the excess would be recycled into the next day's offerings, where possible. That said though. there were circumstances where the casual baked products just did not draw customers, and were too abundant to recycle into new products the day after. Baker and his family would either have to eat this themselves, or toss it out. He was hopeful to score some of this "extra." He was also mindful that simply asking, did not mean he would be GETTING-- an important distinction-- but you never know for sure, until you ask first.)

He wasn't picky-- but he was VERY hungry. As long as it was not covered in mold or something, it would be fine.

Dusting himself off as best he could, despite the tenaciousness of the mud, he sauntered up to the door and knocked politely.

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

The elf woman, Jazdia, seemed very eager to be underway, as did the orc woman, Matilda. He himself, was also eager to be away from this place.

He hated what had happened here. He hated that he had played a significant part in the demolition of this town. In the ruining of the lives of the people here. In a more forgiving world, where there weren't madmen out to do this or worse to other towns, in other nations, all over the place-- In that more forgiving world, he would stay and put things right. He HATED leaving these people in such a bad state. While perhaps not the kind of housing they were used to, or would really find favorable, there WERE ways to get certain kinds of trees to grow and mesh together into something resembling a home using magic. He had seen the rotting remains of them in part of mystville forest, though his dad did not like to discuss where they had come from, or who had once lived there. He had not been eager to press for that knowledge either; The place reeked of old death, decay, and corruption. (the very same kinds of corruption he and his dad tended to spend most of the summer tackling together.) That by itself was not reason to have prejudice against the idea of the structures though. Here, with still a small amount of warm weather yet before all the leaves drop-- It could be managed. It would take the rest of the month most likely, but at least the people would have places to live in when the winter hit. Hell, living houses like that require less upkeep even. They just look funny.

Jazdia indicated that he should climb into the back of the carriage.

Why is it people did not understand that you can't put this kind of weight back here? Cargo goes UNDER the carriage, or ON TOP of the carriage. If he climbed on back there, it would tip the whole thing and try to lift the horses into the air.

He shook his head, then climbed up directly over the rear axle, then very slowly and very carefully spread out over the luggage rack on top. It was not very comfortable, and he was sure it looked stupid as hell, but at least he wouldn't tip the carriage over up there-- So long as he didn't move around much. He sure hoped they didnt intend to try and drive the thing at breakneck speed. He'd need to be lashed down, and he didn't like that idea at all.

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

It did not take terribly long to retrace the path back to the keep. Nobody wanted to be up there, it seemed.

Incidentally, that made searching what was left of the stable an uncontested affair. Much like Jazdia predicted, the villagers were hard at work assessing their livestock and properties, and would indeed surely notice-- and care very deeply-- about somebody making off with their horses-- wounded or not.

The livery stable was a nice, but not overly elaborate 10 stall affair, with more than half of it either burned or collapsed. The charred remains of five unlucky horses graced the destroyed end of the barn, the blackened curls of bone and bits of hoof being in the first stall, and varying degrees of "cooked" in the next four.

Three of the stalls had no sign they were occupied while the structure burned-- and at the very far end, one stall was half burned, and the other collapsed when the roof caved in from the flames and the winds caught it. Two unfortunate (or very fortunate, depending on your outlook on the matter) souls were found inside. In the charred one, a badly burned blue rhone laid on its side, gasping for air. In the collapsed stall beside, a lovely chestnut with black mane and tail laid prone beneath the ridgepole that had fallen in, breathing hard but paralyzed from the injury.

"That's bad-- We should put them both down." rasped Reinhold, shaking his head at the sight. "We'd be better off trying to find the three that ran off. They shouldn't be too hard to find-- the ground's real soft. They'd be easy to track."

"Take tuh long-- ain't got da time. We gotta git while da gitt'ns good." Cedar gruffed, pawing his nose at the rank smell of burned flesh and smoke that cloyed the air where the barn used to be.

"These ones are as good as dead!" the old man countered. "hell, They could go any damn moment!"

"At means nuh-one'll miss em." responded the bear flatly

Reinhold held his hand to his head, as if Cedar had just outdone himself on saying the single dumbest thing he had ever heard that day. "How do you expect to ride a horse missing half its skin, and another with a shattered neck, and probably broken legs?"

"How duh ya es'pect ta rustle horses wit an ol' fool zapped by a crook'd ol' conjuror?" Cedar countered coarsely. "Ya fix em up fir', at's how." He moved to the burned and gasping horse, which tried to protest at his approach with fear and screaming, but was unable to rise, and instead just snorted red foam. "Dis gunna be hard-- Dey's scared outta dey're minds. Duh me a favor, an' go says nice thangs ta da brown one o'er dere. Calm 'er daown while's I work o'er 'ere--"

"You cant be.... Fine" Reinhold groaned, then crawled into the remains of the collapsed stall, before sitting on the ground next to the prone mare inside, placing his hands on it, and trying to sound reassuring. "It'll be OK pony-- The crazy talking bear over there will come spoon your butt while you try to die like a decent fella, and make you all better."

"I hearded dat...-- Ya radder still be estra crispeh roas' pork? Give at fucker da satisfaction a killin' ya AN' Ya frien', aft'r ya track em fer days on end? Die face-daown inna dirt, same as him?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"'At's what I figur'd. 'Ese 'ere horses don' wanna die neader. So we helps em. Same as you."

Reinhold gruffed, then gently patted the bay behind its ears. "Pay no attention to that crazy bear. He's nuts, and thinks he knows something."

"'Ats more like it."

Cedar laid down beside the gasping, wild eyed horse, pressing his face gently against its own, and looking straight into the eye on that side of its head, clearing his thoughts and arranging them to be easy to understand.

The horse was full of terror. Suffocating, and in unbearable pain. It did not know what had happened, or how it had been hurt like this. It wanted to escape the fire, and tried to seek shelter, but this was what it had found instead-- and now a meat eating monster had come for it, and it could not run. Terror reverberated off pain, and painted a gristly tapestry in its mind.

Cedar did his best to be a source of calmness; Soothing, reassuring, instructional.

'breathe' and 'you wont die today, if you trust.' being concepts woven into a collage of what she should expect, and what he would do next. Incredulity, and resounding terror mocked his efforts, but he held fast, and worked anyway, carefully slipping behind the horse, leaning his head over it's neck to remain in close face-touching contact, eye-to-eye.

He laid his heavy arm over the top of its neck with one arm, stroking it gently, while tugging the beast close with the other. Blue light erupted like fire over the damaged skin. The horse tensed. Nostrils flared. The eyes darted with wide whites-- all the while, the bear-man held and stroked, while breathing hard and slow, laboring under the magic.

Time passed, then the light abated. The horse made nasty faces and stuck out its tongue repeatedly, trying to get the taste of its own blood out of its mouth.

"'Eree naow..... Erre naow..." he crooned, then nuzzled the grey's head affectionately. "All be'er naow..."

He released the horse, which staggered to its feet, squealed, snorted then turned and looked at the still prostrate bear with wild, incredulous eyes, nostrils flaring at the air, tail swishing, with ears darting between being forward and back.

Cedar was tired. This was hard work, and still not done.

"You OK over there bear?"

"Mind ya own bizness, ya ol' bastard!" he crooned back. "Jus' gimme a minute. 's Hard work ya know? Go see ta da laydee o'er dere. I'sll be up in a jiffy." Cedar waved his paw irritably in the air in the general direction toward the now mended blue rhone, which now sported bright white patches where the burned flesh had been, marring its otherwise beautiful smokey coat.

"Fine, but I'm not making out with it like you did." then down at the horse he was only half-assedly trying to calm "Better watch out- he's a hugger."

"Shut the fuck up-- dunno what ya goin' on 'bout. -- Ain't inta horses."

Reinhold cackled and wheezed as he clambered up out of the ruined stall, and moved to stroke and pet the dismayed rhone, tossing its mane with his fingers, and rubbing its nose, while cedar rolled, sat up, shook his head, then tried to get into the next stall over, failed miserably, then resorted to lifting and tossing the fallen roof beam like a caber-- the old hunter laughing harder and harder the whole time.

"ya don' shutup ya gonna suck in a fly." the bear said flatly before settling into position with the next horse, and repeating the process-- Blue light blaring around the horse's crushed neck and head, along with parts of its butt and legs. The bay shrieked a dismayed whinny, snorted then bolted to its feet the instant it was able, crowding in beside its companion, nostrils blaring and tail swishing, staring at the bear in the remains of its stall.

Cedar needed a drink. Something with some alcohol in it. Maybe a nice bottom ale. Good and brown-- and a whole bowl of salted nuts. Damn that would be good.

"Dey gunna need names." he wheezed, then labored to get up onto 4 legs.

Reinhold's horse laugh paused only long enough to gasp for air, before pointing at the bay-- "Schnitzel" then at the Rhone "And extra crispy!" The old man was having a hard time keeping air in his lungs. "So..." he wheezed. "Which one you ridin?"

"SHUT UP, an' help meh git em back daown wit' da odders." cedar protested, then staggered upright, then wobbled for a second before starting a fairly brisk walk. "Ain't got all day."

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

Cedar did not like the situation. There were horses, but an odd number.

Maybe they were broke to pull with a lead horse? Be that as it may, there was no way they could squeeze him into that closed top carriage. He'd be sticking out both sides of the darned thing, and putting him on the back could make it tip over.

Even then, there wasn't enough room for everyone.

Then there was the old codger, Reinhold, and news of that shifty thin man with the odd speaking habits, offing himself suddenly and without warning.

There were clearly some things about full blooded humans he would never be able to understand.

He huffed, then padded over to the injured old hunter.

"Hey 'ere ol' timer... ya still alive?"

The old man gave a weary grunt and a hard stare.

"I dun unnerstan' none a dis 'revenge' business ya got, but didya git what ya came fer?'

There was a pregnant silence, then 'yes.'

"Well, ya looks like shit. I prolly don' look much better muhself, but lemme have a lookatcha."

Reinhold raised his arms feebly from where he was laying, in a laxidasitical posture that screamed 'as if I could stop you' without saying anything.

'At wizard gone an' fucked us both, looks like. I's a boney shriveled up prune, an' yas' looks n smells like roasted pork. Well, at leas' one a us kin look a sight better in a bit.. jus' try ta relax..'

The bear settled in beside the man while the others caught and harnessed the horses, essentially curling up around him like a giant dog, or maybe a cat might, gently embraced the injured man from behind, and held him close.

"I'm not into that." Gruffed the old man crossly.

It took cedar a moment to process, but then he started laughing.

"Ain't wat it looks like fellar, hones'. You jus' fucked up good. Need all muh concentration, so gotta lay down, an fer it ta work, I gotta be holdin' ya. Don' get ya panties in a twist."

weary resignation dripped from the man's hoarse voice as he sighed in resignation. "Fine-- just get it over with."

Cedar chuckled mischievously, then sucked in a deep breath, held the man close, closed his eyes, then set to work with the magic.

Blue light glimmered all over the old man's body where-ever it was visible through his charred hunting outfit, as skin regrew, and charred flesh fell away to reveal healthy skin beneath. The man tensed as the unpleasant experience washed over, around, and through him, Caught in the bizarre talking creature's grip.

several seconds passed, then the light faded.

"Wooooof... muh head's swimmin..." drawled the bear, just before Reinhold elbowed him in the ribs.

"Let me up, you." The old man protested.

"Feelin better 'en?" Asked the bear, being cheeky.

"Yeah, fine, now cut it out."

Cedar chortled, rolled to the side and raised his arm and paw to release the distressed, no longer roasted old man, who got up, then tugged and shook his clothes, sending bits of charred skin tumbling out of his shirt and pants-- which still bore the tell-tale where the wizard's magic had torn through.

Cedar sat up shortly afterward himself, taking only a few moments to shake the dizziness from his head.

"They aint enuff horses." Cedar gruffed.

Reinhold stopped to look at the carriage, and made a dour face.
"I can see that."

"Would ya lend a bear a han' in roundin' s'more up? Horses be right cowardly thangs-- less willin' ta cuddle a bear an you is ol' timer." He joked. "And from what I sees, anuh we finds gunna need it, same as yuh did."

"Do I got a choice?"

"Well... s'pose we coul' jus' stay 'ere, git caught wit' our britches down, an' killed in our sleep, but I wouldna recommend it."

The old man closed his eyes, held a hand to his head as if he had just been subjected to the dumbest thing he had ever heard, shook it off with derision, then started walking.

"Enough-- let's just go get it over with.."

"Naw 'at's da spirit!" Drawled the bear happily, as the two plodded closer to the group to announce the plan.

"Hey yo! Me an' da ol' fellar gonna go roun' up more horses. We'll be right back."

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

The bearman snuffed, raised an eyebrow and made an amused expression at Matilda's rebuttal of the prince's hero-worship for that slimy, rancid fish-- this "Admiral Delving," returning the "I told you so" expression tit for tat.

"We shud git goin'-- We stays in one place-- and dey's af'er us-- it gunna be bad. Kid, I's stickin' ta ya like pinetar & cockleburs. Sumbudy wants ta 'nap ya a'gin, gunna have a right angry bear up e're arses firs."

and with that-- he followed the pair through the cellar and back upstairs.

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

After moving up the passageway sufficiently to be past earshot and visibility of the villagers that had been trapped in the cellar, Cedar padded closer to Matilda and Alec, addressing the former, while standing near the latter.

"So, wat da plan? E'res just too damn many people as shoul'n' be in taown... Cain't be coicidence! Izzat why ya wann'd meh ta go back up? What goin on?"

So many questions, and short on time-- It sounded like he was an excitable child-- though to most humans learning his actual age, they seemed convinced of that fact regardless.

"Whe're we gunna secu're da prince at?"

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

Cedar was both elated and unnerved to see two more of the rescue team down here with him.

His mind reeled with scenarios that could spawn this eventuality:

Were they fleeing?

Did they come down to get him? (Was it because he didn't come back right away like a called dog? Don't they realize this is some serious shit we're in?)

Something else entirely?

Over the top of all of those thoughts, (why NOW, when I can't afford to answer or act like I recognize them? If I break my cover, the villagers will panic for sure!) He thought anxiously to himself.

He gave the prince a big eyed Puppy faced look, desperate for him to play the act he desperately needed him to do...

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

The prince's excitement was not reassuring. Who BETTER to send than somebody the boy trusted so deeply, if the goal was kidnapping him again... or killing him.

After all he had just been through, his mind was a relentless fountain of terrible thoughts too unspeakable to name let alone utter, and through all of them, a mental image of his home and nearby village on fire.

He shook his head crossly, trying to force the image and implication of this being a deception meant to lure them back into a trap from his head, but only half succeeding, then responded to the prince.

'List'n Alec, I just done an' did in at wrinkled ol' sumbitch inna multi-color'd pyjamas, I ain't tuh keen on gittin' fuck'd o'er by no damn rott'n fish 'rear admiral', gots it? Think 'bout it a minute: who be'er ta nab ya ag'in 'an sumbuddy yas trusts implicit like? 'Specially if dey da 'smooth talkin'' type, ya know? At black thingmabob were likely da work a dat white ol bedsheet, Doct'r Solom'n. He da one as found sum scary new way ta cajole da dead like 'at. Why he'd be want'n us ta head back be anuhbody's guess, but I dun wan' be caught wit no way out down 'ere, if'n we goes investigates what dey up ta. Le'ss fin' a way out on 'is end AFORES we go an see whats-what back atta way. Dey dun set us up a ambush? We gots a straight shot outta here, we plays it smart firs'! We JUS' got you outta em' murd'rin' asshole's slimy blood-stained hands, I don wanna jus' slip ya right back in em, chasin' lit'ral ghosts with muh britches down an' no plan, aright?"

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

"'VonnIe said he were 'admiral' somebody. Made a sarcas'ic joke 'bout him bein' far away from da sea. --His story done stink like a rottin' dead fish, 'ats asure!'

Upon hearing the sounds of crying children, desperate villagers, and catching the smell of blood, sweat, and a heavy air of fear and despair from up ahead, the bear stopped cold, listened intently, snuffed the air then cursed.

'Aww shit.'

"Mister Cedar?" Asked the prince in confusion.

'Look kid, Mos' people's dun really like havin' yers truly sneakin' up on em in de dark, let 'lone dark, tight places like 'is. They tends ta ... ... 'take exception' afore Is kin e'en git a word in edgewise--' his voice trailed off in volume, but kept right on uninterrupted as he muttered worriedly to himself. '....ok, think ya dumb bear... how ya gunna git outta dis dump without becommin' some dumb fuckers rug? .... think....'

The bearman literally sat on the ground and bowed his head down, with an inscrutable, but tense look about him for several seconds, before slowly turning it toward the prince again.

"Ok Alec, here what we gunn'a do-- Yer name aint Alec. Think a sommat right naow, an stick wit' it. You's a peasant boy from Pesti-- an I's yer pet bear, got it? Yas was usin' meh to hunt fer mushrooms, an' got caught in'da storm earlier. Ya headed fer da firs' intact buildin' ya coul' fin', and foun' da keep deserted, got it? Call meh what'er ya like, I'll go along wit' it an' play muh part-- just try an' keep it sommat respectful, yahear? I dun wanna be havi ta ans'er ta no fuckin' 'fluffy' shit, got it? I dun' know how ta talk, but is 'real smart 'n playful' got it?'

He waited for the prince to nod his understanding, before continuing.

'An one more thang-- grab wha'ere bit a paper ya kin git yer purdy manicured hands on! Paper, Parchment if'n dey gots it, hell-- rip da labels off'n some wine bottles, I dun care, 'slong as it some paper. Git some, or anuhthang else likes it, and shoves it in ya pockets, all discrete like, got it? I's been separated frum muh own clothin' at da moment, an aint got no pockets, so I needs ya ta do dis. Is real important."