No Rest For The Wicked

Despite heading to bed at a reasonable hour, they all find that it is not easy to sleep during the night. The fact that the freezing chill temperature seeps through the blankets on their beds does not help, nor does the fact that they consumed a little bit too much wine at the farewell feast, which left their heads spinning.

Their rooms are bathed in a pale silver light from the full moon that shines out from the cloudless sky above, through their curtainless windows. They bury their heads in their pillows, trying to shut out the half-light.

Yet it is not only these factors that make it hard for them to find sleep. The city seems to be especially noisy this night. All of the animals in the city seem to be a little restless. Dogs howl continuously during the night, which upsets the horses in the various stables dotted around the city of Olmutz. But that is not the end of the commotion. Although it is well after curfew now, there seems to be a fair amount of activity going on in the city tonight, with occasional shouts and the sound of running feet carried towards the inn by the wind. The commotion continues for well over an hour and eventually, they all find the sleep that they have been trying for.

Thwy come to with a start, not knowing how long they have been asleep for. They are awoken by the sound of dogs barking from just outside the inn and the sound of horses' hooves rattling upon the cobblestones. They quickly raise themselves from thei beds and peer through the window. They see that there is a group of armed guards outside the inn, dressed in back-and-breast and armed with broadswords. Half of them are pointing heavy crossbows at the windows, while the other half are holding flickering torches. Two of the guards each have a pair of ferocious looking mastiffs with them. The dogs are barking furiously, almost pulling their handlers off their feet in their eagerness. All of the guards are humans, and they are dressed in black matching uniforms and so it is obvious that it is not the Nyemetz. The party members can tell by the actions of those outside that these armed men, whoever they might be, are trained professionals in their art.

Amongst the foot guards, two of them are mounted on warhorses. Both of the guards are wearing three-quarter plate, scanning the windows of the 'One Elm' carefully.

As soon as they see the armed men, the party members duck down out of sight, not wanting to risk a crossbow bolt through the skull. They crouch down and take a look through a window upon the opposite side of the inn. The same sight greets them. It is obvious that the guards have got the inn surrounded. It appears as if there are around twenty of them in total.

They return to the front of the inn to peer through the window once again. As they do so, one of the mounted guards begins to shout up to them:

"We know that you're in there. Throw out your weapons and surrender to us so that you may answer for your crimes."

"We have the building surrounded and so there is no escape. Come out now or else we shall have no choice but to burn down the building."

"Oh yeah, like that's gonna happen," mutters Aithne, grabbing her gear and stringing her bow. "I bet they don't realize they have a Necromancer slayer in training here. If I killed one of those things, I bet I can take out one of those guards, huh?"

She turns with a fey grin to Winnacer.

Winnacer nods in return, his response the hasty strapping on of his armor:

"They'll not be standing in our way, if it comes to that. But let's not leap into action here. They are not Nyemetz."

Winnacer peers over the edge, concentrating on the feeling that the men are giving him. His eyes go from man to man, then rest on the dogs.

"They tracked something down with those dogs. I bet this is not political, this must have to do with Will, and his curse. That makes things worse, perhaps."

"He has a curse? He's not a necromancer too is he?" asks Aithne, blinking innocently.

Winnacer looks at Aithne and the Padre:

"If need be, I will lead the way out. Spravedelna has a way to clear a path when people stand in Justice's path. And if worst comes to worst, we'll pass this around."

Winnacer grabs a potion bottle from his gear:

"It will buy us some time if they decide to raze the building."

"I don't think strong spirits are called for yet...though it's not a bad idea," replies Aithne, starting to be really amused by the situation.

Winnacer again peers out of the window, helmet in place, lighting the area up nicely:

"To whom am I supposed to be surrendering to? If you wish to take a LawBringer into your custody, then tell me what I stand accused of. Then perhaps we can talk about a peaceful resolution of this grave insult."

"To Lieutenant Yarda Bartunek of the Bodyguards' Guild," the mounted man in the three-quarter-plate responds. "Some of our clients have appointed us to bring you back to them to answer for your actions."

"I want to speak to everyone in the building to ascertain who the culprits are. There will be no exceptions. I want everyone in the building down here with their hands in the air right now. The innocent parties will be allowed to go back to bed."

Porter scrambles over to the LawBringer, longbow in hand, obviously having returning to the inn after the rest of them went to bed.

He hisses:

"Those are freakin' pros from the Bodyguard's Guild. What in hell did you guys do to get someone to hire a freakin' army to come after you?"

Aithne whirls around, her arrow nocked:

"How the hell did you get in here! And where is your... mistress?" she hisses, catching herself just before she loosens the arrow at point blank range.

Porter snarls:

"Don't f***ing shoot yet! And we've been here! And she ain't my mistress!"

"I didn't. You're not a necromancer are you?" she asks hopefully, batting her eyes at the man.

As her heart calms a bit from the shock, she adds, "Bodyguards' Guild?" in a puzzled tone.

She turns back around to watch the show.

Winnacer turns to the recent arrival:

"That's a good question. Let's try to keep one of those horsemen alive long enough to find out. But first, we need to buy time until we have a plan. Do we shoot it out with them, drinking from this potion of fire resistance or do we take it to them, and hard? If we could deceive them with magic, we may be able to escape bloodlessly."

Aithne rolls her eyes:

"Magic, schmagic. Let's take the fight to them; if they won't listen to your words of wisdom, of course, LawBringer."

Her eyes dance with mischief.

Porter draws back a sheaf arrow in his longbow as he replies:

"Well, I ain't into mixing it up with the Bodyguards' Guild. These guys aren't a bunch of two-bit ruffians, they're freakin' pros. However, I don't see how we're sneaking past two dozen of these guys."

Porter begins aiming out a narrow slit of a window, closing one eye as he finishes:

"Personally, I think you should let me try to take out one of these mounted punks on this side, then hit the other side with everything else and try to get out that way."

As he finishes sighting in, he looks over to Winnacer:

"Just let me know when you want him dead."

Winnacer looks at Faewen'il, waiting for her to say something. She says nothing, however, seemingly totally disinterested by the events unfolding outside.

Aithne smiles and draws her own bead on the man Porter indicated, from a neighboring window:

"Nice bow," she remarks softly, then focuses all her attention on her aim.

Realizing that Faewen'il is not going to be the one to help the resolve the situation, Winnacer looks out the window, trying to see how many of the bodyguards would fall under the effects of Spravedelna's fear. He estimates that around a third of the guards would be within sight of his blazing eyes.

He then answers Porter:

"Those that stand in the way of Justice shall suffer Spravedelna's wrath. It is a pity that we need to spill more blood, but so be it."

"Let us move downstairs so we can ready our escape. Train your bows upon the crossbowmen. I shall invoke Her wrath at the group surrounding the leaders and we shall make our escape in that direction."

Winnacer draws forth the Ripper of Pardubitze, his face grim:

"Milan, get your armor on and stay at my side. Don't try to be a hero here."

The LawBringer looks at Porter, then Kokal and Aithne:

"These brutes bore me. Why don't you two tell them a pointed joke before we go."

Aithne does not giggle, for that might mar her aim. Instead she just smiles, a feral smile. Not quite as good prey as Nyemetz, but still, prey. Changing her tactics slightly, she decides to shoot at a crossbowman that Porter is not marking as his own. She readies her bow, says a quick blessing to the wind, and prepares to lets loose her arrows upon Winnacer's signal.

"You forgot to say 'give them the shaft', Winnacer," she whispers softly.

Winnacer waits for Milan to get his armor on, not wanting the lad to have to run out unprotected if needs be. Once the squires are protected, he returns his gaze to the window, preparing to give the signal.

Before he has chance to do so, however, they all hear a creak from below them, and see the door to the inn opening up. One of the staff from the inn, recognizable from the leather apron that he is wearing, hurriedly runs up to the two mounted man.

The party members look at him carefully, curious to see what he is planning on doing. As they examine him more closely, they realize that they don't recognize him, despite his clothing, which is surprising because they thought that they had met with all of the inn's staff during the duration of their stay at the 'One Elm'.

They watch on as the man runs up to the armored guard who seems to be in command. The lieutenant grabs hold of the hilt of his broadsword and several of the guards armed with crossbows change their aim to cover the man. The mastiffs start to bark furiously at the man as he comes towards them. The dogs are obviously trying to charge towards him and their handlers are forced to use all of their efforts to keep them under control.

"Thank the gods you're here!" the man from the inn cries in the most heartfelt, victimized tone he can muster. "He was here-- I tried to stop him, but he bested me! He ran off there, to the east!"

He points in the appropriate direction with a shaking hand:

"Go that way!"

The lieutenant doesn't doubt the validity of the man's words for an instant. He immediately waves to his men:

"Well you heard the man, get after them," he orders. "What are you waiting for?"

The guards immediately jump to attention and start to rush off in an easterly direction. The dogs seem reluctant to go with them, still barking and growling at the man from the 'One Elm' and so the dog-handlers are forced to pull hard upon the dog's chains, dragging the mastiffs behind them as they follow the other guards.

The lieutenant throws a salute towards the man from the inn.

"Thank you for your assistance, Sir," he says. "Olmutz needs a few more helpful citizens such as your good self."

And with that, the lieutenant digs his spurs into the horse's flanks and gallops off after the rest of his men.

As the lieutenant turns his back on the man from the inn, the party members notice that man in the leather apron cannot help but grin to himself broadly.

Aithne and Porter both relax their aims as the guards charge away from the inn, both of them a little disappointed at being deprived of a little sport.

Winnacer steps out of the inn as the Bodyguards leave, his sword still drawn as he approaches the smug man. His face shows obvious displeasure as he begins to speak with the man.

"I am Winnacer Duene Stradheim, LawBringer of Spravedelna. Would you care to tell me what is happening here?"

*LawBringer!* the man repeats mentally.

"Um... no?"

Winnacer's stern face shows that he is not going take no for an answer. He peers at the man intensely, making the man perhaps even more uncomfortable.

"The name's Rowan. I was just ..." the man replies.

Rowan's reply is cut short as they all suddenly hear a bloodcurdling howl from somewhere outside in the direction that the bodyguards ran off. They then hear the sound of chains rattling, followed by a ferocious growl and then the sound of a man screaming in terror and agony, before the sound is abruptly cut off. This is followed by the sound of more chains rattling over the cobbled streets of the city.

They then hear the sound of the lieutenant's voice shouting out once more:

"By all the gods!" he exclaims. "What the devil was that which just grabbed Private Breynik?"

"Sargeant Kevitzky, I'm taking the first company to carry on searching for the fugitives. You take the second company and take care of that creature."

They party then hears the sound of the footsteps and hooves' disappearing away from them.

Winnacer cannot help look up the street with all the screaming, making the young Lord look all the less pleased with the aproned man.

Rowan looks shocked:

"Me? What, you think THAT was ME now?" he says, incredulous and insulted, gesturing to himself innocently with one hand.

It takes Aithne a few minutes to replace the arrow into her quiver and sling her bow over her shoulder. Looking at Winnacer curiously, she smiles at the stranger:

"I'd say he just got us out of the inn without a fight," she murmurs. "That was what you wanted, wasn't it?"

The stranger's brow furrows:

"Got YOU out...?"

Aithne then turns to the stranger:

"Hiya, I'm Aithne Laurellan. Pleased to meet you."

The stranger recovers quickly from his confusion and returns her smile:

"Rowan Farelith, m'lady, at your service," he replies with a formal bow. "Please, forgive my rude attire...."

"I believe you have already been in my service, as you saved my poor bow arm much work," Aithne smiles at him wickedly. "Not to mention some of my arrows might have broken."

Winnacer looks at Aithne and softens up:

"I guess you're right...if they really wanted us..."

Aithne smiles at Rowan encouragingly.

Winnacer's reaction is not quite as favorable, however:

"...which I highly doubt, all the sudden."

Rowan is visibly taken aback:

"Good sir! I was only expressing my surprise that a LawBringer such as yourself would be the target of the Bodyguards' pursuit."

He smoothes his clothes absent-mindedly:

"Your implication is... well, I am not easily insulted, but..."

Porter's face takes on a look of disapproval at Rowan's dissembling. He had thoughts that joining a LawBringer might help keep some of the heat off his own back, but it was clear that he wasn't going to be the only one in the group operating on the fringes of authority.

Aithne adds:

"Gee, Winn, he's kinda cute, can't we keep him? Pllllllleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaasssssseee!"

Aithne looks at Porter and Fae, dropping a quick wink at Porter, then back to Rowan. Then looks at Winnacer, one eyebrow raised in patent disbelief.

Winnacer sighs and gives Milan a pat on the back:

"Let's get all of our stuff out of here. I think our stay at the Inn has run too long. I did promise the Chief Justice that I wouldn't let this Inn burn down."

He hands Milan some coins with which to pay for the rooms.

"Let's get out of here and again fall upon my sister for succor. We'll bring this Rowan chap with us. He can tell us there what he's all mixed up in."

Rowan looks indignant for a moment, but it is quickly replaced by a thoughtful expression: 

"Yes, well... I think that 'all mixed up in' may be a bit of a melodramatic turn of phrase. In any event, I fail to see why how my personal life concerns YOU. No offense."

"And it is clearly implied by your actions here tonight that you are wanted... and not in a good way. If the rest of your party's temperament matched yours, sir," he continues, indicating Winnacer, "I would question whether it were in my interests to accompany you, but I see that others among you are perhaps more accommodating."

Rowan punctuates this with a polite nod towards Aithne.

Porter hawks up a loogie, spitting to the side and growling:

"Don't freakin' count on it."

He then returns to the inn.

Rowan grimaces, but says nothing.

Winnacer can't help but smile a bit at Rowan's words:

"I can't remember angering anybody that would need to resort to hiring bodyguards. Or would have given innocents any fair warning."

Winnacer shakes his head:

"Well, we can either call the guards back and discuss your business with them or we can make away together. Know that Spravedelna can see through deception, but can aid those who have been dealt an Unjust hand. Nor can I turn my back on Injustice when it rears its head in front of me."

"Ah... well... I see," Rowan replies, a little unsure.

Winnacer then looks at Aithne:

"Yes, we can keep him. For now."

Aithne beams at Winnacer. And at Rowan.

Rowan beams back:

"Well then... where are we off to, then?"

He stretches and yawns:

"It has been a tiring night."

"The Library of Kitry," Winnacer replies. "Let's get moving before the Nyemetz come to investigate those most recent screams."

The LawBringer shakes his head, wondering if he is going to regret this.

The conversation is punctuated by another howl and a second distant scream.

"I wonder what hideous beast that is," murmurs Aithne. "Is the moon full?"

"Hideous beasts aside," Rowan says, maneuvering to Aithne's side as the group starts moving back into the 'One Elm', "Olmutz under a full moon is a beautiful thing to behold...."

Aithne falls into step with Rowan:

"If you're in the right company, of course," she says, smiling at him warmly, though there is a slight glint to her eyes.

"I have found 'the right company' frightfully hard to find here," Rowan replies, sighing, "but Fortune seems to have smiled upon me tonight."

Aithne relaxes in Rowan's company:

"Wait until you meet Winnacer's sister," she whispers.

Rowan raises an eyebrow at this, but manages not to inquire further.

Despite her frivolous mien, Aithne watches around her carefully, ready to draw her sword if the need arises. Rowan, on the other hand, spares little attention for his surroundings.

Everyone re-enters the 'One Elm' in order to retrieve the remains of their equipment that was left in the inn as a result of running out quickly. As they pass him on the way back down, the innkeeper is looking rather shocked at the whole experience of having his inn nearly burned down due to the party's presence. He seems to be highly relieved at learning of their intention to vacate the premises; the handful of coins that Milan gave him in settlement of your account seemingly little more than an added bonus.

Winnacer shakes the man's hand, apologizing profusely for any inconvenience caused and then heads out along with the others waiting for him outside.

They see that Rowan has changed his appearance quite considerably since they last saw him. Instead of the rough leather apron, he now wears a light, loose-fitting shift. A thin-bladed sword hangs at his left hip, and a dagger with an elaborate bell-guard depends from his right.

"Let's get to the Library as quickly as possible now," Winnacer says.

Not wanting to wait outside in the freezing cold any longer, especially considering the fact that it is starting to snow now, quite heavily, they all head off on the short jog towards the Great Library of Kitry.

Upon the short journey, they can hear that the howling is continuing, although the distance from them is quite a way now. They can just hear a third faint scream as they head the last of the way towards the Great Library.

As they reach the large building, Winnacer knock upon the heavy oaken doors, which are soon answered by an acolyte, who is looking a little concerned. He opens the doors immediately upon seeing who it is calling and allows them entrance.

The party can see that there is quite a great deal of activity within the Library considering the fact that it is well after midnight. They can see that both Clarissa and Vice Patriarch Nechas are among the members of the clergy in conference close to the altar.

The clerics all look up at the party as they enter and Vice Patriarch Nechas comes towards them, with Clarissa following close behind. The Vice Patriarch's face betrays a look of both concern and relief as he sees you enter the Library:

"Thank Kitry that you came," he says as he gets close to the party. "We were debating whether or not to come and alert you to the situation, but we were worried about the danger, what with the fact that it is well after curfew now and as a result of all of the commotion this night."

"Why?" Winnacer replies with equal concern to that of the Vice Patriarch. "What has happened?"

"It's your friend, Will," the Vice Patriarch replies. "After our last meeting, he approached me in confidence to say that he had contracted the terrible disease of lycanthropy and asked whether we could try and cure him."

"Of course we were only too happy to help to remove the curse and I arranged for Patriarch Yodathlion to interrupt his ponderings in order to perform the cleansing ritual."

"However, I have to say that the Patriarch was not successful in removing the curse as it began to manifest itself and your friend has turned into a werewolf. There is always a chance that the cleansing of the curse is not successful, as was the case when Konan tried to remove it upon the night of the last full moon. I'm afraid that Patriarch Yodathlion's efforts were similarly in vain."

"This is terrible," Winnacer responds. "So is that Will roaming the streets of Olmutz now?"

Nechas shakes his head:

"No," he replies with a little relief evident. "Knowing that the attempts to cure Will of his lycanthropy problem had already failed once before, we took adequate precautions by chaining him securely. Once Patriarch Yodathlion realized that his attempts at curing him had not succeeded, he was able to render Will harmless for a limited period, during which time we were able to lock him in a large chest, which we then chained and locked in the crypt."

Winnacer is about to reply to the Vice Patriarch when yet another blood curdling howl is heard from a short distance from outside the Library. In response, a second muffled howl is heard emanating from the crypt.

"Then who, or what is that?" Winnacer asks, pointing to the door.

The Vice Patriarch shakes his head:

"I'm afraid that I really don't know. Olmutz has never had a lycanthropy problem in the past, although there have been one or two cases noted."

"I'm not sure that I want to know," he adds, shaking his head.

He pauses for a moment:

"I think that I had better spend some time with others in prayer in order to try and ask for Kitry's blessing for Will and whoever else might have become infected by the curse."

"Please excuse me."

With that, the Vice Patriarch takes his leave of the group and heads off to lead the other Librarians in prayer.

"And Winnacer's careful about who he travels with?" mutters Aithne in disbelief. "You must have known what that noise was and that poor Rowan here had nothing to do with it, yet you try to accuse him?"

Aithne shakes her head:

"That's no way for a LawBringer to behave. Tsk. Tsk."

"M'lady is too kind," Rowan says, inclining his head slightly in her direction, "but I would not slight the LawBringer for his vigilance. Evil has been known to lurk around every corner."

Aithne sighs:

"This is true, Rowan. I'm afraid you are just more 'enlightened' than I. I am a simple backwoods girl, whose only skill is...weaponry."

"As if your beauty were not dangerous enough," Rowan quips in return.

"More than you think." replies Aithne, smiling, the glint of amusement in her eyes even stronger.

As Rowan continues his sickening display of flirtation, Porter chews on his lower lip while sizing up the man. Unconsciously, he takes a protective step towards Fae.

Returning her attention to Winnacer from Rowan, Aithne speaks:

"I apologize for my scolding, dear Winnacer. I am sure you know what is best for us."

Winnacer looks a bit surprised at an act of courtesy aimed at him from a party member:

"Not a worry, Aithne. The problem is, however, that we don't know what that was. We can only assume it is a werewolf and we know it is not Will. Nor does that explain the Bodyguard's presence, and they sounded pretty surprised by what attacked them."

Winnacer looks at Rowan:

"I'd like to hear a bit more about that, especially if you plan on tagging along with us when we leave the city."

The LawBringer turns back to the rest of the group:

"And it is quite suspicious that Yaz is missing. He kept alluding to something at the Temple of Lechit."

Winnacer pauses.

"Oh no....."

and then whispers to himself,

"why me......."

Clarissa then approaches them, shaking her head:

"This really is a terrible situation, Winn. I feel so sorry for your poor colleague. It is really a terrible thing for him to have contracted such a disease."

She shakes her head once again:

"I think that it is best if you all spent the night here. It's too dangerous for you to head off back outside now, what with curfew and that other creature at large. You and your colleagues may sleep in the guest rooms once more."

"We shall take care of Will while you sleep. I know that you have a long journey ahead of you tomorrow and so you should get some rest while you have a chance. It's going to be a very unpleasant journey what with the weather being so bad at the moment."

Winnacer nods his head in response and offers a weak smile to his sister:

"Thanks for all your help, Clarissa. I don't know what we'd all do without you."

He looks over at the others:

"Clarissa's right. There is nothing more that we can do to aid Will tonight. Let us all get some rest so that we may depart early tomorrow morning, as soon as Will is able to travel."

"And once Yaz turns up," he adds, with a most concerned expression on his face.

As they file out from the Library towards the humble guestrooms at the rear, Clarissa nods at everyone. Her expression at seeing that Faewen'il and Porter are with the group is polite, but neutral. At seeing Rowan, however, her face breaks into a demure smile and she extends her hand towards him:

"Loremistress Clarissa Stradheim," she says. "I don't think that we've been properly introduced before."

"More's the pity," Rowan replies.

He bows and takes her hand in one fluid motion, kissing it lightly, then gazes up at her with smiling eyes.

"Rowan Farelith," he continues, still holding her hand in his. "At your service."

Clarissa blushes as Rowan takes her hand. She looks away from him demurely and then looks back to him with a shy grin.

Aithne grins also and watches for Winnacer's reaction out of the corner of her eye.

Winnacer's jaw slackens with surprise at his sister's actions. The surprise is quickly replaced by a very protective look that he is fixing on Rowan.

They head off to their rooms, now very tired as a result of the night's activities. During the night, they hear the howling continuing both from outside and within, but eventually manage to get a little sleep.

For the others, despite the inhuman howling outside, the night is restful, but for Rowan, it is an almost-unendurable torture. It had dogged his mind since being swept up with this LawBringer's group, but there had been other distractions to occupy him-- namely Aithne and, more significantly, Clarissa. Now, though, there is nothing but the darkness, the midnight horrors, and his thoughts.

Somewhere, she is still out there. Hopefully.

Had "it" already caught up with her? Had she found safe harbor in some inn or other, or was that last scream hers? It sounded feminine.... Would she scream? Would she even have a chance? Rowan cannot decide if that is in her character. Knowing her, if she knew Death were upon her, she might very well accept it with calm stoicism, doing what harm she could to the Thing before it claimed her life. And, if possible, she would survive. She always managed to make it through, with or without his help-- although the latter was usually more fun, she'd once said. Rowan smiles in the darkness at the memory, and tries to imagine what Winnacer would think of her. It was clear that he himself was not about to win the favor of the LawBringer-- he'd seen how the big warrior had looked at him when he'd first kissed Clarissa's hand-- but his cousin... she would be another story altogether.

If she were still alive.

A chill wind blows through Olmutz, and somewhere in his little room there is a draught against which his bedding provides only limited defense. He holds Clarissa a little closer, partly for warmth, mostly for comfort, and she sighs contentedly in her sleep as if in response. He softly kisses her hair and, eventually, drifts off to sleep, dreaming of pleasant childhood memories torn apart in a frenzy of fur and fangs.