northclifflogs | Blue Blue Caravan

WHO: Wilde, Emery, Johanna and two open starters
WHAT: Stuck in NCP until the snow clears enough for him to gtfo
WHEN: Early - Mid February
WHERE: Various
NOTES: Screaming goats - may update as needed

Open

Market - Wilde had found a nice spot to unload the two-wheeled cart, unfolding its various panels to put his wares out for display. Various goat cheeses took up most of the display. Most were simple, but there were a few fancy ones with nuts and herbs and such mixed in. There was also a quantity of yarn skeins, soft as anything. Some were dyed in shades of green, red, or yellow, but most were plain.

Wilde had taken to relaxing on the wagon seat while Pehj had found a spot relatively dry and free of snow to stretch out, occasionally bleating at any passersby who looked like they might give him some dried fruits.
The Hammer and Spoke - It was getting easier to avoid the soldiers in town now that they had taken shelter in the mines, but Wilde was still on guard. He'd heard they acted like they had the run of the place, and frankly he wanted to avoid getting conscripted if they were on the prowl for hale young folk to fatten their ranks.

Fortunately, the inn was too crowded for him to stand out much. There wasn't much else for the townsfolk to do on these cold winter nights aside from the usual drinking, dice, and occasional brawl. Wilde kept out of the thick of it, but observed the goings-on with what might have been a wistful smile before whatever reverie he was in the middle of was interrupted by a few soldiers barging in.

The goatherd ordered another drink, and then abandoned his place at the bar as he slipped into a chair across from a stranger, setting the drink down as though he'd been asked to do so.

"Sorry," he murmured, never quite taking his eyes off the soldiers, "I won't stay long. I just didn't want to deal with- well."

He inclined his head to the soldiers who were already hassling the others sitting at the bar to go drink elsewhere.
For Emery -

Traveling in the mountains was always a gamble - but it was especially bad during the winter. Wilde had finally made it home, lighting the lanterns along the narrow, dangerous path that split off from the Pilgrim's Path and led to his homestead. In case there was anyone mad enough to be traveling in this snow (himself excluded). It wasn't uncommon for the faithful to make a bit of a detour to spend the night somewhere warm and dry or trade for supplies, but that was the extent of Wilde's company.

He wasn't particularly surprised to see someone coming up the path while he was out seeing to the Ladies of the House (four fat hens) who clucked disapprovingly at Wilde when he scattered the rest of their feed. He stepped around two young bucks who were playfighting, their horns locked and heads pressed together as they grunted and pawed at the snow, and opened the gate.

"Sorry," he said, "haven't had much time to clear the path. There's stew and a bit of bread if you're hun-"

He blinked, realizing his impromptu guest wasn't some random pilgrim, but someone from the town proper. The bloody magistrate to boot! Wilde promptly straightened, feeling a growing tension in his gut. Something must be amiss to risk coming up here.

"Er. Magistrate. Sir."
For Johanna -

One does not generally apply the term majestic to goats. That's because, in general, it doesn't really fit.

But no one would argue that there was a certain dignity to Wilde's flock. There had been several generations where his ancestors had bred them with the wild ibexes around the mountains, and then further selective breeding until you got the fine specimen that was currently standing on top of some poor soul's roof.

Pehj was a proud looking creature. From the curve of his horns to his sleek chestnut coat, he cut a striking sight, silhouetted against the gray light of early dawn.

And then he opened his mouth.

"AAAaaaaAAAAA!" screamed Pehj from the roof, echoing across the village. "AAaaaaAAAA aaaAAA AAAaaAAAAAAA!!!"

It hadn't taken Wilde long to find the creature. The snows were deep and there weren't exactly many goats of Pehj's size down from the mountains, so the trail from where he'd untied his reigns to his current perch had been pretty easy to follow.

"Get down from there!" Wilde hissed, gesticulating wildly. Pehj ignored him, and bleated somehow louder.

Wilde searched around for a ladder. This was not, in fact, the most infuriating place Pehj had managed to park himself (he had once gotten about three quarters of the way up some ramparts - gravity for goats was not so much a law as a suggestion) but Wilde could already feel hot embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck. The last thing he wanted this morning was the scrutiny of grouchy villagers woken from their beds by Pehj's temper tantrum.

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"I was gone for a time as well," Wilde admitted, "came back about three winters ago, but I haven't been down to the village until after father passed."

It seemed they'd both thought the grass was greener on the other side of the fence until they actually got there. Or maybe something else had driven Lorne home - the middle of the market didn't seem the place to pry.

"The goats are certainly doing well though. The summer was good to us this year. I imagine guard work here is quiet?"

Oh, if only he knew.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Lorne says honestly, and leaves it at that. Whether about his father or his travels, Wilde can choose to speak of them or not, and Lorne won't press either. He knows what it's like to lose a parent.

His expression pinches a little at the last. "It usually is, yes. Duke Galein's soldiers being camped here has caused significant tensions. Most are barely more than boys, but some... I'd stay away from them if you can."

"Thank you. And no need - I've seen how Commander Brickenden talks to his men."

When the Commander deigned to speak with them at all and didn't just. Yell. Or delegate.

"The people certainly seem brow-beaten. I take it his men are overstepping?"

"You could call it that. Most keep to themselves, but when there's been trouble the soldiers are essentially able to do as they please," Lorne relates ruefully. All things considered, it could have been much worse than the few incidents that have happened. Or it could still be.

His gaze slants towards the magnificently sprawled goat, and the corner of his mouth twitches up. "If they come see your wares, they might think twice about bothering you as long as he's around."

"They're the Duke's men, aren't they?"

It would explain why those who weren't scared out their britches were strutting around the place like peacocks.

"Pehj is a rather good deterrent," Wilde agreed. And if potentially getting gored by a giant, angry goat didn't do the trick, the sword and bow usually persuaded others to leave Wilde alone.

Pehj, with almost uncanny intelligence in his eyes, perked up at the sound of his name, and stood, padding over to Lorne to see if he could sniff out snacks or the adulation he thought he was due.

"Not everyone is so lucky though," he said, tugging back on Pehj's reins. "Is there any way I can help?"

"They are," Lorne confirms, nodding grimly.

Then Pehj comes in search of food or affection, and that would lighten almost any sour mood. "Hello, Pehj," he greets, keeping a hand at the level of the goat's horns while offering the other to be sniffed. Lorne is familiar with goats, though not nearly of Pehj's size. Unfortunately he has no treats to give.

"Stay out of trouble," he tells Wilde dryly. "And keep others that way, too, if you can manage it safely. The last thing we need is a scuffle turning into an all-out brawl." A beat, and he adds, "You've certainly grown more levelheaded."

"We all have to grow up sometime," Wilde said.

Pehj found Lorne's attention perfectly agreeable, though the goat still gave testing nibbles at pockets or pouches or loose folds of clothing. You know. Just in case.

"I don't intend to start anything," he assured, with the unspoken implication that if, indeed, something was started, he may not be the instigator but he would absolutely finish it. "Have they picked out specific people or families to target, or are they more opportunistic?"

Lorne gently dissuaded Pehj from nibbling too enthusiastically, keeping the goat's mouth where he could see it. In the future, he'll try to remember to bring some treats. As far as growing up, Lorne only wonders what Wilde has seen in his time away from home. Or perhaps he was always bound to mellow.

He is grateful for the implication that Wilde will step in to halt fights, if he sees them. The Watch can only cover so much ground between the three of them.

"Opportunistic mostly. Some focus on the oddballs in town; anyone who sticks out tends to get more attention," Lorne explained. Such as Tuo. "I think it's boredom, and the rabble aren't satisfied with cards or music. Hopefully the snow will keep them all too busy and too tired to bother anyone."

It's wishful thinking, and it won't get in the way of his vigilance.

Another tug on Pehj's reins finally gets the goat away from trying to suss out hidden snacks, and he made a huff of disappointment before throwing himself down dramatically in his corner.

Won't no one think of his needs?

"I'll make a few rounds then, as long as I'm in the village. If I spot anything, I'll notify the guards, of course."

Unless he'd need to make a hasty getaway. But you know. Good law-abiding citizen and all that. Maybe some of his impertinence still lingered yet.

The corner of Lorne's mouth turned up. Impertinence tempered by experience can be valuable; he trusted Wilde would apply it judiciously.

"Thank you." Wilde doesn't have to do this, but the offer is welcome. The Watch is terribly outnumbered by the soldiers, and their authority limited by comparison. "While I'm here, I ought to take some of that cheese off your hands," he said, more relaxed on this topic. Fresh cheese in winter was a treat. "How often do you think you'll come down?"

Just so he can make sure Wilde is doing well; it can be difficult to keep an eye on those who lived well outside the town walls, but they were still a part of the community.

Wilde gestured to the mountain of cheese wheels. Some were herbed and carried the additional scent of garlic, others mixed with chopped nuts, some aged, some quite fresh. Help yourself Lorne, there's a lot.

"I can come down for a day or two every week, snows willing. With the thaw coming, it should be easier - but I suspect by then the soldiers will have moved on."

Gods willing, anyway.

"Hopefully, yes." Lorne wasn't about to place any bets on it. Between the weather and the war, the soldiers might be here for far longer than anyone anticipated. Assuming their move to the mines didn't result in an early demise.

He considered the various cheeses and selected three, one for Colin and two for the Ward house. With four of them in the house, it wouldn't take long to go through it all. "I'll look forward to seeing you when you're here, and not simply for an extra pair of eyes," Lorne said, reaching for the coin purse at his belt. "Don't make me come up there and find you having broken something by being incautious," he added, ribbing his old friend.

Blue Blue Caravan

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