northclifflogs | OPEN | Blood And Ice

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OPEN | Blood And Ice

Civil Blood

I. News from the West

The story of why gets twisted and distorted between its departure from the Crags and its arrival in Northcliff Pass, but the town criers maintain consistency on a few points: Althea of House Jessamy, Duchess of Black Rock, has at last thrown down the gauntlet against the Duke of Cliffside, and has called on her vassals to rally their bannermen. It seems there will be war within the borders of Maireglenne for the first time in a hundred years.

Given the state of the roads leading through the pass, it is understandable that the news is a few weeks’ stale by the time armed soldiers sporting Duke Galein’s colours march (or gallop, if they are astride a horse) past the village walls and garrison themselves on the festival grounds. Anyone objecting to this new arrangement is encouraged by the soldiers to bring their objections to the garrison commander (who, rumor has it, personally oversees the flogging of objectors himself).

Like it or not, the regiment is here to stay, at least until they receive orders instructing them otherwise. On the bright side, the soldiers did the hard work of clearing the pass for the season; travel between Northcliff Pass and the city of Cliffside just got a heck of a lot easier this winter.

II. Cold Snap

And it’s highly likely that those orders will be as delayed as the news, for the regiment has hardly been within the city walls a week before the temperatures plunge to dangerous lows. This is not the seasonal frigidity accompanied by blustery blizzards that encourage snowball fights and a bit of ice fishing down by Sands Creek, but a cold so biting and bitter that any prolonged period spent outside in it runs the very real risk of hypothermia and death. This is the kind of cold that leaves the air clean and clear, with nothing to impede the watery white light of the sun for the few hours it spends above the horizon each day before setting again; it cuts the lungs when inhaled and bites straight through to the bone. Many of the village’s poor are brought within the sturdy walls of the Town Hall and the chapel, because the alternative is finding them frozen solid in the streets.

The silver lining to this development is bare indeed; avoiding the cold means that, for a time at least, the village residents and soldiers are too preoccupied hunkering down to endure the cold to be at cross purposes.

III. A Howl in the Night

On the third night of the deep freeze, an animal’s piercing howl shatters the oppressive silence that has settled over the village.

It’s not a wolf’s howl; it is far too shrill and keening, and comes from a great distance away, that much is clear. The few villagers brave enough to risk exposure to the cold will find nothing of immediate danger within the city walls--but should they lift their eyes and look to the gossamer clouds near the summit of Gods’ Reach, they will glimpse the dark silhouette of a massive winged beast circling the mountaintop in search of a safe place to roost.

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Tuo's wagon is evidently interesting to someone. Or several someones, as the case may be.

"Never seen a cart like this before." The wary observation comes from one rough-looking soldier who is prowling around the outside of the brilliantly coloured wagon a bit like a stray dog. Around him, two or three of his fellows have gotten into their cups a bit early today, which explains why they've decided that the best way to spend their afternoon is through antagonizing the eccentric skald who lives alone on the outskirts of the village.

They have formed a semi-circle around the foreigner in question, who stands very still under their scrutiny with his chin slightly raised, his lips pursed into a mocking sort of smirk. When one of the men prowls up into his personal space and sneers, "Where is it you're from anyway, friend?" Tuo's smirk only widens.

"My, that is personal," he replies slyly. "And here you and I haven't even been introduced."

Lorne hears voices before he comes within sight of the wagon, and that alone makes him pick up the pace. He doesn't bother trying to move quietly in all this snow. What he finds is not encouraging, to say the least: unfriendly soldiers outnumbering and apparently harassing Tuo. It hasn't turned into anything too serious yet, but Lorne is not willing to extend the soldiers much trust in that regard. Getting into a fight is not ideal and he's going to avoid it if it's remotely possible. Execution by bored garrison commander is not in his plans.

He tugs his scarf down so his face is visible and voice unobstructed when he calls out, "Excuse me, gentlemen." Lorne raises a hand in 'greeting' as he approaches, his smile forced. "Is there a problem here?"

The soldier in Tuo's face turns to sneer at him over his shoulder. "Nothing for you to be concerned about. Go back to your home."

"Ah, so there is a problem?" Lorne trudges closer, angling towards Tuo from the side as much as possible, so he's not at the soldiers' backs. "Then as a member of the village watch, I'm afraid it is something for me to be concerned about. It's my responsibility to oversee the safety of residents and travelers of Northcliff Pass."

He sounds sincere. It's easier to fake this bland cheer than to pretend he's on the side of the soldiers.

"Listen, friend," says the soldier who had been circling Tuo's wagon like a wolf. He comes to stand beside his comrade, all friendly smiles with just that edge of too much teeth to them, and fishes a few copper coins out of his pocket. When he offers them out to Lorne, he looks rather like he's tipping a footman rather than engaging in a bit of bribery.

He smiles. "We're just having a bit of fun, is all. Why don't you go down to the pub and have a drink?" He shrugs, feigning harmlessness. "Just forget you even saw us, eh?"

The other two soldiers are paying close attention to Lorne now, watching his reaction carefully. And without their attention on him, Tuo's attention is not on his rescuer, but on the door to his wagon not fifteen feet away; he masks it well, but he's clearly afraid, though not of a beating.

Edited 2020-01-16 21:29 (UTC)

So this is going well.

Lorne's gaze darts across each soldier, taking in their stances and considering the possibility they're armed. And then he looks to Tuo for just a moment and notices what the soldiers don't. Tuo's whole life is in that wagon; he hasn't the time to wonder what else Tuo might fear. The odds are against him here, no matter Lorne's training. He can't count on Tuo having weight in a fight, simply because Lorne doesn't know him well.

"Standing around when it's cold enough to freeze your arse off, staring at a visitor's property - that's what you gents do for fun?" Lorne peers down at the offered coin, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "Sounds miserably boring to me. I don't much like drinking alone; why don't you all join me?"

Lorne estimates he's got at most one more round of falsely cheerful banter before fists get involved, steeling himself to move. His best bet is to draw them towards the village if he can.

"Oh, fellow," sighs the soldier, mouth pulling into an almost sympathetic grimace. He pockets the coins and gives his compatriots an idle glance over his shoulder; one of them, at least, has lost interest in antagonizing Tuo, and has come to stand next to the troublemaker's side. "You really should've just taken the coin and gone on your way."

"But don't you get any ideas." This said by the last remaining soldier still standing menacingly beside Tuo. "No need to go tattling to the rest of the guard, eh?" He seizes Tuo's upper arm--

--which he should not have done. The only warning the soldier receives is Tuo's narrowed eyes, before he spits directly at the soldier's face. The man reels back in shock, then promptly backhands Tuo right across the face with enough force to send him sprawling into the snow. "Fuck--fucking freak!"

Tuo lands hard, blood clearly visible spilling from his nose and split lip when he twists around to watch the soldier struggling to wipe spittle from his eyes, and though bloodied, it's impossible to miss his satisfied smile. yeah that's right, fucko, that is spit freezing on your skin.

"Well then," says the first soldier, already rolling up his sleeves.

Lorne doesn't bother rolling up his sleeves. As soon as Tuo hits the snow, he's moving. If layers are going to limit his mobility and numbers aren't in his favor, then what he's got is the advantage of time and soberness.

He cracks the first soldier across the jaw, sending him towards the second one, hoping to at least shove the second off balance if not off his feet. His gloves help lessen the impact of the strike on his hand but it's still jarring.

As much fun as it might be to see how those two look in black and blue, Lorne is primarily focused on keeping Tuo safe. The soldier that smacked him is only going to be distracted for so long and he's not going to waste that. Lorne launches himself toward that soldier, tucks his shoulders down, and tackles him straight into the hard-packed, frozen ground. Not even the layer of snow will prevent Lorne from using his own mass to knocking the wind out of him.

"I'd suggest you stay down, friend," Lorne growls at the soldier he's pinned, who is satisfyingly gasping for breath. Quickly he gets to his feet and positions himself between Tuo and the remaining soldiers, fists raised at the ready. "You might want to think about running, if you can," he tells the skald.

"You fucking prick --" the soldier on the ground shouts, scrambling quickly to his feet. He's not immediately flanked by the others, given that one of them may well have a broken jaw, but their furious aggression is definitely moving them all in that direction.

"Stop!"

Dain strides over, all billowing coat and severity, every inch of him the stern shepherd. His scarf trails down his back where he's pulled it down off his face; the cold bites, but most of the soldiers know his face by now. All except the first soldier hesitate when he intervenes. The first was already in the middle of a wild swing at Lorne.

It was only a matter of time before a violent incident. Civil war, freezing cold, a commander quite happy to brutally punish anyone for the unforgivable trespass of raising a complaint -- it's a wonder alcohol hasn't pushed a soldier over the brink before this.

By the time Dain arrives, Tuo has pulled himself at least partway to his feet; he is bent over at the waist with his head bowed, blood from his lip and nose still dripping into the white snow. Lorne's suggestion that he run is a good one, but he's to dizzy just yet to do more than try to catch his breath. Yet he looks up abruptly at the sound of his friend's voice, eyes widening.

"Oi, oi," says one of the soldiers, already stepping forward to seize the back of his compatriot's jerkin and pull him back from Lorne. The remaining one watches the shepherd with uneasy eyes, but there is still a sneer plastered onto his mouth.

"This, here, is a crime against our lord, Duke Galein," he snaps at Dain, pointing an accusing finger at Lorne. "Striking a soldier in the duke's army, our commander won't let that go lightly."

Dain's voice cuts through the air and there's a fist heading for his face - Lorne blocks it, keeps his arms up until the soldier is dragged away, and then allows himself a moment to catch his breath. Tuo is unsteady and still bleeding, but out of immediate danger. The accusation leveled at him is technically truth; Lorne did strike two of them, and he knew the possible consequences when he did it. Now that Dain is here, he's less sure of what his fate will be and whether he can hope for the shepherd's mercy.

"Shepherd Dain," Lorne begins, inclining his head in respectful acknowledgement. "I readily admit to hitting these men. Assaulting someone unprovoked and who is unarmed is also a crime, and my actions were in response to that, acting as a member of the Watch." He speaks with as much neutrality in his tone as he can manage, neither deflecting responsibility nor cowing to the threat of execution. Though, he can't help but add: "Soldiers attempting to bribe a member of the Watch is also a poor reflection on their Duke's reputation, if not a further crime."

He bows his head towards Dain. "I submit to your judgement on the matter."

Lorne continues to impress Dain, though whether or not that's a good thing is debatable. He takes in the scene, all but one of the soldiers clearly uninjured, Tuo bleeding freely and staining the snow beneath him (his gaze doesn't linger there, much as the tangle of emotion in his gut might want it to).

"One man claims responsibility," Dain says, "and the other childishly denies all fault. I would have thought soldiers of Cliffside and Duke Galein were disciplined enough to be the first, not the latter."

"Our commander --!" the soldier starts.

"-- is going to be sending you to war soon. He has more important things to worry about, and so do you. Attack an unarmed man again, and the church will be sure to add considerably to the worries of both your commander and the Duke. Go back to your garrison."

The soldiers don't answer. There's fury on more than one face, but even through the haze of drink, excuses like 'he spit at me' will seem to ring hollow in the frigid winter air.

And, at least for the moment, it looks like there won't be any more bloodshed beyond that which is still dripping from Tuo's nose.

He spits a last mouthful of it out onto the snow and wipes the rest off with one hand, straightens up slowly, and ensures that when he meets the venomous glares the soldiers fling his way, he does so with his chin raised and his eyes hard. (If he was afraid of a beating, he would be less discreet.) The unambiguous leader of the soldiers, evidently unwilling to risk riling a Shepherd--he's heard the stories--grits his teeth and turns to help shoulder the weight of his injured comrade.

It isn't until the soldiers have put a substantial enough distance between themselves and the glade that Tuo exhales, eyes closing, and presses one sleeve against his injuries. "I suppose that could have done worse," he remarks with staggering aplomb, but already he is gingerly making his way over to the steps of his wagon. "I think I shall sit down for a moment, if you don't mind."

Fists balled, Lorne waits stiffly until the soldiers are well on their way to let out a slow breath. That easily could have gone violently sideways, and would have without Dain's fortunate arrival. It still might not be over. He looks from Tuo to the Shepherd, gives Dain a firm nod.

"Thank you," he says seriously, "for navigating that equitably." After the incident with Detlef… well, Lorne wouldn't have trusted another Shepherd to have his back no matter how truthful he was. He's currently unaware if Dain and Tuo know each other at all, so he's going to be cautious with his phrasing here.

Lorne turns towards Tuo's wagon. As he walks he pulls one of his gloves off and tugs a plain kerchief out of his cloak. Shaking it open, Lorne stoops to gather up a handful of clean snow and places it inside the cloth. He ties the corners loosely, goes to the wagon and holds it out to Tuo.

"Here, put that across the bridge of your nose to help staunch the bleeding, and keep your head tipped forward," Lorne suggests. His hand throbs and he ignores it. "If it's broken, I can try to set it once the bleeding stops."

Similarly, with Lorne there, Dain knows he needs to be careful. For the moment, the truth must be that he doesn't know Tuo well, certainly has never been inside Tuo's wagon, and had no personal stake in this incident beyond perfectly neutral justice and defence of the innocent. If his gaze lingers on the blood and the injury now, well, at least Lorne's back is turned.

Would it matter? He's seen Lorne explicitly defend someone with the Vice.

But he hasn't survived as long as he has by throwing all caution to the winds the moment someone might be sympathetic.

"Thank you," he replies, "for stepping in when you did. The moment they think they can do whatever they'd like, there'll be a lot more bloodshed." Dain steps closer to confirm Lorne knows what he's doing with the cleverly-made poultice, and then, with a softness he can't quite help in the current situation: "Will he be alright?"

There's an agitated-looking magpie pacing hither and thither along the awning of the wagon as Tuo and company approach it. Wearily, Tuo looks up at it without saying anything as he eases himself down onto one of the steps, then starts some when Lorne offers him the poultice. "...If it's broken, I can try to set it once the bleeding stops."

Drolly, "Would you? How kind." The mockery in his voice isn't at Lorne's expense, but at the absurdity of looking forward to more pain following so swiftly on the heels of what he's dealing with now. Still, his eyes soften after a moment, though they don't lose their impish glitter entirely. "Thank you. Should I ever see a kitten stuck up a tree, I'll know which heroic guardsman to seek out."

His eyes land on Dain just beyond Lorne's shoulder, and if maybe, just for a moment, heartsick longing and regret flickers across his narrow features--well, he's in pain. Surely that is explanation enough for any grimace he may wear.

"Will he be alright?"

"'He' is sitting right here, you know," he points out primly, but cannot fully suppress the smile curling up the corners of his lips.

There's irony in Tuo's choice of words, seeing as Lorne and Dain and Detlef recently had an Interesting Experience regarding cat rescue. His mouth quirks but doesn't quite reach a true smile. If Lorne notices anything about the softness in Dain's voice or anything in Tuo's face other than pain, he doesn't show it.

The magpie gets a glance, and Dain after. Perhaps there is a story there, and perhaps it's simply how each responds to stress like this. He won't assume. "Walking and talking is always a good sign," Lorne offers them both. "Broken noses usually heal straightforwardly. Even if it's not broken, you'll be sore for a while, probably have a headache for the next few days, look a mess for a while longer. Try not to hit anything with your face again," he adds dryly.

Then, with an inch of humor: "Think you'll turn this into one of your stories? Might make an interesting limerick."

"'He' is sitting right here, you know." Amazingly, Dain laughs -- if Tuo is able to be glib, he must be none the worse for wear -- and Dain's following tone is apologetic. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. Are you going to be alright?"

Whichever the question, Lorne answers it. Dain listens quietly, considers the wisdom of coming to see Tuo in a few days to make sure the injury is healing well -- as with everything recently, it will depend on what the soldiers do. And speaking of those soldiers, Dain should really go and make sure this won't result in anything worse for anyone else, sooner rather than later, and reluctantly he has to admit that a Shepherd with no personal stake in this situation likely wouldn't even stick around long enough to confirm whether the nose is broken or not, now that the danger has passed.

And Tuo and Lorne do know each other, well enough that Lorne can joke about the injury and about limericks. Tuo's in good hands.

"Do you need anything else from me?" Dain asks them both. "Materials, or the healer?"

"Think you'll turn this into one of your stories? Might make an interesting limerick."

"I try not to become the punchline to my own comedies, thank you," Tuo replies, smiling wryly up at Lorne, though he winces a bit as he adjusts the weight of the poultice against his nose. "--ah. But I suppose I did invite this one on myself."

Then Dain speaks, and he tries not to let his heart sink; of course, he can't linger here, it would arouse suspicions. And so Tuo takes a breath in through his mouth and then sighs it out again, and gives his head a little shake. "No, no, I think I will be fine. Just a bit of bed rest and a cup of tea should do the trick. But--thank you." A pause, before he continues, "That might have gone quite poorly for me, had you both not arrived when you did."

"You didn't start this," Lorne tells Tuo firmly. Those soldiers found him odd, got drunk, and decided to come harass him. Tuo would have had to not be himself to avoid their attention, and even that hasn't prevented some of the bog-standard villagers from getting pushed around.

Dain's query first has Lorne running through practicalities until it highlights yet again the difference between Dain and every Shepherd that Lorne has had a brush with or heard about. He cares, in a way that encourages Lorne's curiosity; not only about him but about Dain's concern for Tuo. What had the Shepherd even been doing out here? And Tuo… well, it's always hard to tell what Tuo's thinking.

"You're welcome," Lorne says more soberly. "I'm glad I happened to be out here." A nod to agree with Tuo's assessment; rest is definitely in order but otherwise there's not much else to be done. "We should probably get out of the cold for a bit, you especially." Lorne pauses for a moment. "Would you like company or prefer I come back later?" That nose will need another look but Lorne doesn't want to presume his and Tuo's interactions have been sufficient to warrant an invitation into his home.

He has no illusions that this incident is fully over, that punishment may yet come his way, but now he has a chance to appeal to local law for a modicum of leniency. Lorne doesn't regret his decision to help.

Dain is also very glad Lorne happened to be out here. He doesn't, however, say it aloud; just sets aside his original reason for following Lorne out towards the woods, acknowledges Tuo's thanks with a nod, and turns to leave, blanking his face in order to try and blank his tumultuous mind and the aching yearn.

He hesitates when Lorne asks whether Tuo wants company, that tangle of emotions returned. There's nothing wrong with it, of course, nothing whatsoever wrong, except that Dain wishes fiercely he could extend the same offer. But he cannot turn a blatant blind eye to some of the contents of Tuo's wagon while Lorne is there, and expect Lorne not to demand answers.

Perhaps he shouldn't put aside his original reason for following Lorne just yet. If Tuo says to come back later, there should be some opportunity for conversation before they're back inside the village walls.

It's an innocent enough question, and a bit of company after that harrowing encounter would not go amiss--but then, of course, there is the matter of literally everything inside his wagon. And Lorne, generous and attentive and prone to random acts of unexpected heroism though he is, is as much an unknown element to Tuo in this regard as Tuo likely is to him.

So it should not come as any surprise when Tuo demurs with, "Perhaps another time, if you don't mind." Already he is carefully pushing himself up to his feet, wobbling only momentarily when the magpie still perched on the awning swoops down to land clumsily on his shoulder.

One wing smacks into the side of his head, which Tuo endures with a tolerant grimace. "Hello to you, too," he tells Alvi, already turning to reach for the door to his home.

It's much as Lorne expected; were Tuo in worse shape Lorne might be more insistent, but he's well enough to be on his own. Rattled, clearly, but relatively safe now and more or less in one piece. He nods, gives the magpie an amused glance.

"Of course," Lorne acquiesces easily, stepping back so Tuo has plenty of room. "I'll be at the guardhouse or the magistrate's house if you need any further assistance. Tomorrow you should get your nose checked out, though, whether it's me or a healer."

At worst it'll only heal crookedly if not set, but better to ensure he's getting any treatment he needs, in Lorne's opinion. That settled, Lorne turns with a wave back towards the village gates. He's following not far behind Dain but doesn't attempt to catch up with him immediately. If the soldiers are lingering nearby, it won't do to have Dain appearing to take sides.

And that's that, Dain thinks. Tuo and Alvi are safe. Lorne is uninjured. There's nothing more anyone can do until the next time the soldiers try to harrass someone. There's a temporary peace, and Dain can settle back into the permanent discomfort he'd learned to live with right up until Tuo walked back into his life.

It's keen, recently, those reminders that Dain can't simply do what he knows is best.

He's on the preceipe of stopping to wait for Lorne to catch up, of broaching the topic he meant to ask about in the first place -- but there's a soldier right inside the gate, and Dain chooses not to take the risk. Another time, perhaps.

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OPEN | Blood And Ice

Civil Blood

I. News from the West

II. Cold Snap

III. A Howl in the Night

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