Large Field(#32475Rnt)
 
This is a peaceful field; the grass is ankle-high and bright green in colour,
while patches of wildflowers sprout here and there. Three white sheep are
grazing peacefully near by, though as you pass- they look up and stare- stalks
of grass stuck between their teeth; that dazed sheep-expression on their white
faces. A few large trees grow here and there, providing shade when shade is
needed, and a path runs across to the east, disappearing into the stand of
trees that grows there.
 Contents:
 Iavasuial
Obvious exits:
 Vineyard leads to Vineyard.
 Secluded Pond leads to Secluded Pond.
 Orchard leads to Orchard.
 
================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Mon Jul 19 01:39:36 2004
Bree time: Dawn <5:58 AM> on Sterday of Autumn - September 17,1432
Moon Phase: New Moon
 
  Breelands Weather
The dawn autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The sky is clear and the
sunlight shines brightly.
===============================================================================
 
[Iavasuial(#26974)]
 It is a clear and peaceful morning; dawn has just broken and sun
shines down upon the dew-covered field. Droplets cling desperately to the
blades, and flowers are in full bloom. A herd of sheep is grazing peachfully
and unaware of danger on the autumn shoots, bleating occasially to each other.
Birds perch in trees and dart across the open air, singing morning songs full
of joyful. And joyful they should be, for a Great Eagle is nearby.
 There's hardly a note of warning before the giant shape- the form of a
bird, drops from the sky- the force of its descent scattering leaves and
bending flowers. Finally the sheep look to the sky and bleat in fright, now
running in all directions, but it is too late for one. Down swoops the bird,
snatching up the fleeced body in deadly and sharp talons, before, with several
mighty beats of her wings she lands there within the field. The sheep is still
alive- crying out to the rest of the herd.
 
Somewhere down by the other end of the field is the creak of a gate and an
elderly voice calls out, "Lassie? Come on, girl, you can do it." His tone is
encouraging. The old man who stands there is wrapped in a dirty fleece to keep
out the morning chill, and a crooked staff is clutched in his right hand, prop
for age as much as shepherd's tool. It is Hugh Bramblefleece, of course, out
for a morning walk.
 
Despite his words, no companion appears - there is a sudden yelp, and then
through the gate a creamy-coloured shape can be seen lolloping away. "What-"
the old man begins, but it's all he has time for. For now the sheep begin to
bleat, and a moment later they are scattering. His left hand lets go the gate,
which bangs shut (just as well), and the aged figure stumbles and goes down as
a woolly white body cannons into him. He scrabbles for purchase on the muddy
ground, all the time that desperate sheep's cry ringing in his ears.
 
[Iavasuial(#26974)]
 Sharp eyes glance up from the future meal as the yelp sounds out.
Hooked and sharp beak clicks together in worry, and the gaze doesn't shift.
Beneath the huge form the sheep struggles and bleats and cries- legs kicking in
a desperate attempt to free itself. The effort is futile, for it is pinned
against the damp ground and even as it struggles the claws grip and dig into
flesh and fleece.
 Autumn-feathered wings are not yet folded at her side, but resting and
halfway closed; providing less effort, should she need to take again to the
sky. Loudly does the beak clack open and the closed. Still the sheep is not
dead, though its bleats are becoming lower in volume, though more desperate.
The Eagle watches, and waits.
 
Who could blame the Eagle if the mighty bird were a little distracted? Some of
the distressed sheep's kin are attempting to squeeze themselves bodily through
the hedge, away from the avian menace ... but far more entertaining is the
sight of the old man as he staggers back to his feet, fleece and trews alike
coated in slimy mud. His expression as he turns round and catches sight of the
cause of the commotion is almost comical: his mouth falls open, and his
features take on an expression of blank astonishment. Then his weatherbeaten
face turns chalk-white as terror takes its grip. But these are Bramblefleece
sheep - and isn't it it the duty of a shepherd to protect his flock? A moment
later he's tottering unsteadily forward, right hand still gripping his staff
and his left arm waving in the air as he shouts loudly, "Get out of here! Go
away! Shoo!" He's not moving very fast, and has only gone a few paces as yet.
 
[Iavasuial(#26974)]
 Is that a spark of frustration in the Avian's eyes as she spots the
shepherd? Perhaps, though the grip on the fleeced body doesn't release. Now as
the man speaks and tries to shoo her away from her next meal, a hiss escapes
from within the hooked beak, and there is definetly something of frustration
and annoyance in her gaze. The feathered head tilts to the right, as if this
will give her a better view of the stumbling silver-topped man. Maybe he
doesn't appear to be a danger, for she does not yet fly but remains- protective
of her catch. The grip does, however release slightly so she pins the animal
down with less claws; the reason for this is left unclear for the moment.
 
Alas, Hugh's efforts don't seem too successful. The old man stumbles on a
little further, pace slowing, then stops dead. Now he brandishes his staff in
the air and yells, "Garn! Get away! Leave me sheep alone, ye great thievin'
brute!" The effect is somewhat spoilt by the fact that as the eagle loosens her
grip on the unfortunate captive (which is surely beyond redemption by now),
Hugh starts shaking like an aspen leaf and murmuring over and over again, "Oh
my, oh my, oh my!"
 
[Iavasuial(#26974)]
 Then, frustration turns to amusement. If this bird had lips, she would
surely be smirking. However, the amusement fades as she clicks her beak again
in thought. The sheep bleats feebly- blood now staining white fleece from talon
puncture marks. Then, from within her beak comes a voice; low and gravely and
with a strange accent; "If I leave it now it will only suffer." The head tilts
to the left, "It would be less cruel to kill it... Is it yours?" Something
hints at a memory, and one not proudly remembered.
 
Surely the eagle is dealing gently with the man? But at those words, Hugh lets
out a sudden shriek and drops his staff with a thump. "Talkin' birds ... just
not possible ... can't be happening ..." he mumbles in snatches, the panic
rising in his tone. Then a sudden note of hope creeps in, "Maybe I fell and hit
me head?" Slowly he bends to retrieve the dropped staff. "Maybe when I look up
again it won't be there." One, two, three ... staff now safely back in his
gnarled fingers, Hugh lifts his trembling head to gaze in the Eagle's direction
again.
 
[Iavasuial(#26974)]
 Again there appears a spark of amusement, though the bird doesn't move
from where she stands, save to slowly fold her wings at her side. Her beak
clicks once and the feathers upon her head and neck ruffle, revealing more
autumn red and gold. "Quickly, Secondborn," That deep voice (though it is
feminine, and gives her away to be female) warbles again, "Is it yours, and if
so, what would you have me do? I will let it free, but it will suffer to die
soon enough. I am still here, speak and answer me!" The sheep gives a tiny and
imploring bleat.
 
"Ohhh." Hugh lets out a long wavering moan at that demand. He reaches up like a
sleepy child to dig the knuckles of his left hand into first one eye and then
the other ... the Eagle is still there. The old man's mouth opens and shuts, no
sound coming out - and then from somwhere Hugh finds his voice. A weak and
quavering voice, but a voice nonetheless.
 
"These here are Bramblefleece sheep. They ain't for stealin'. An'," breathing
in and out heavily, he dares take a few more steps forward to survey the
blood-stained sheep, "I reckon it's too late for that poor critter. Ye've hurt
her good. H-h-" he seems to have difficulty getting the words out, but tries
again and manages it, "how are y-ye goin' to p-pay for that?"
 
[Iavasuial(#26974)]
 Concerned puzzlement finds the amber and green eyes of the Eagle at
the Old man's gawking and moaning. Obviously, she doesn't understand what all
the fuss is about. "I'm not.. stealing." She answers defensivly. Perhaps she
doesn't know what the word means. "So they are your sheep? I did not know." And
now, she lifts the talon that pins the sheep, though it doesn't move or stand
and run away, but wheezes pathetically. "You may have it, if you wish, and it
is yours though I shall have to find a meal elsewhere. I do not think the
Secondborn understand that I must eat, just as they must. But I will not stop
you if you wish to take it." Again those feathers ruffle, and confusion
alights, "Pay? What is pay?"
 
Hugh watches the sheep. "An' what could I do with the poor beast now?" he asks,
flinching as feathers rustle. "The fleece is ruined, she can't even stand ...
next thing I know, wolf would take her." Anger strengthens the enfeebled voice.
"Pay is what ye do when ye take somethin' off someone else. That there ewe
would have fetched a whole silver penny at market, she would. Ye can't just
snatch someone's property cos ye're feeling hungry ..." Hungry. At that word,
something seems to occur to the old man, for he edges nervously away. What if
his poor fat sheep aren't enough to sate this monster's appetite?
 
[Iavasuial(#26974)]
 The Avian shrugs, well, as well as a bird can. "I do not know. Do what
you will." Quietly she listens to his anger- sharp and predatory eyes watching
his every movement, as if she /were/ considering him for a meal. There is
something softer in her gaze though, something that suggests (to those in the
right frame of mind, at least) that she wouldn't prey on him. Iavasuial takes a
step back. "There. I have not taken it. It is yours, in its field where I found
it. I have taken nothing- there is nothing in my claws." Frustration, and she
shakes out her wings, "I did not know it was property! How do I know? I see
sheep, I must eat like all others, and here are sheep- many sheep and no one in
sight that would be protecting them or any way to tell they belong to a man.."
 
Who said Hugh was in his right frame of mind? "Keep yer han- yer claws off me,"
he mumbles nervously, stepping forward with stick raised before him as the
massive eagle steps back, so that he can examine the injured sheep. The
creature does indeed seem to be in a bad way, and Hugh shakes his head. "Only
one thing to do," he mutters, but then he reaches out to lift the creature's
ear forward. "Folk know this is a Bramblefleece sheep cos it's got the
Bramblefleece mark - right here." Indeed, behind the sheep's right ear is a
branded B-rune (hardly the sort of thing an eagle could look out for from on
high, of course). "An' - an' - an I was in sight," he protests uncertainly.
Letting go the poor sheep again, he steps back, before faltering "M- mebee ..."
 
[Iavasuial(#26974)]
  "You!?" Asks the Eagle in surprise, tilting her head to regard the man
curiously. "I do not eat the Secondborn," she states, rather bluntly. Sheep, on
the other hand, are fair game. "What thing?" Iavasuial takes another half-step
back as Hugh approaches the animal, watching intently as if still protective of
her catch. "I could not see that from the air! All I saw were sheep, with no
one about to mind them. Perhaps if your mark was larger- I cannot see something
so small. Again, I did not know, and I appologise for bringing down your
sheep." A pause follows these words and she clicks her beak together again in
thought, something has her puzzled. "Mebee?... Maybe! Maybe what?"
 
"Can't mark its back, would ruin the fleece!" Hugh protests at the eagle's
response, shaking his head. Then, as he clasps both hands round his staff so
that he can lean on it for support, he tries to articulate his thoughts.
"Mebbe- well, it's like this, see. It ain't right to take another man's
property without payin' fer it - but some folk try to do just that. Bandits an'
evil types. Trolls an' goblins. Tall folk," he adds as an afterthought. "Mebbe,
if ye was to bring me news of such kind o' trouble, that'd pay for a sheep or
two." He dares look up at the mighty avian, his gaze troubled, and looks
swiftly away again, trembling. "An' ... an' ... ye might as well have that
sheep," he concedes at last. "Poor critter's near-dead anyway." He swallows,
hard, and steps well away from the injured sheep, leaving it clear for eagle
claws to lift.
 
[Iavasuial(#26974)]
 "And I cannot see the mark behind its ear. But I shall not hunt in
this field again, for I know now that the sheep here are owned." Now as Hugh
asks for payment, again Iavasuial's feathered head tilts to one side, as if she
were puzzled, or perhaps troubled. "But there should be no trolls, nor goblins
near Bree.." She twists her head to look across her back, only briefly, "And I
know not of "Tall Folk", unless that is some Bree name... But what news would
you want? And why? There are things in this world better left unknown,
especially for you and your people." Almost envious are the sharp and cold eyes
of the Eagle as she speaks these words, though momentarily warmer do they turn
as she meets the gaze of the Breeman.
 
 "But I thank-you, that I may have your sheep.." And so as he steps
away, she moves across and onto the animal once more- talons digging into flesh
so that, seconds later it emits a groan and surrenders to lifelessness. "I am
sorry though that it was made to suffer for so long, but it cannot be helped."
 
Hugh winces and shudders as the sheep meets its end. "There've bin trolls," he
states slowly. "Had trouble with me sheep before, once - a good few years back
now, mind. An' there've bin bandits." For some reason he lifts his right
shoulder and grimaces as he makes that statement. "An' if somethin's comin'
after me sheep, I want to know so I can move 'em elsewhere," the old man
continues stubbornly, the rest of the eagle's warning either unheeded or - more
likely - not understood. Afterall, what can simple Breefolk know of the Wild
and its perils? He darts a glance at the mighty bird before him, then swiftly
away again, to where the rest of his flock are gathered in a tight huddle at
the far end of the field.
 
[Iavasuial(#26974)]
 Again do those feathers ruffle, and a quiet hiss escapes from within
the beak. Apparently she's not particularly impressed. "Years back? There has
been no troubles from trolls recently? We do what we can to keep all places
safe, but we cannot protect the insides of the town from bandits. If they are
on the road, that is another story... But I have heard no news of anything
targetting your sheep, and no words of trouble around Bree, though I doubt my
words shall reassure you.... But if it worries you so, I will listen for news,
and if I chance to hear any, I shall fly again to this very place. If you are
not here, there is little more I can do for you."
 
Hugh shakes his head. "There's bin a lot of odd things happenin' round Bree of
late. Property an' folk goin' missing, an' strange events - like them dead
birds in the Healer's House. Somethin's not right, an' /everyone's/ worried. So
if ye do see anythin' funny-like ... thank ye." Those final words are delivered
gruffly, and he scuffs at the ground with his foot, before adding, "There's one
more thing ye could do for me." Strangely he doesn't seem to be looking at the
Eagle and her prey - in fact he's looking anywhere but there.
 
[Iavasuial(#26974)]
 "I will listen out for things, then. If people are going missing, then
perhaps it is serious..." As if other strange occurances weren't serious.
Thoughtful and concerned is the gravely voice of the Great Eagle, and she now
rises to her full height and stretches those massive wings, before sinking
again and folding them slowly by her side. "Something else?" Almost
disbelieving is her tone, now, yet something has distracted her- perhaps it is
what seems to be a strange habit of looking everywhere except to the person
he's speaking with, even if that person happens to be a bird. "You are a
strange man. You do not look." She states, though perhaps her meaning could
have been clearer.
 
Indeed, Hugh isn't looking. As those massive wings stretch he flinches and
raises a hand to his head as though to shield himself, though he drops his arm
back down with an effort. "Beggin' yer pardon, but- but- ye could have yer meal
somewhere else - an empty field, mebbe? Seein' ye here is disturbin' me flock."
And disturbing its master, more to the point, judging by his unease.
 
[Iavasuial(#26974)]
 Puzzlement again. Iavasuial is rather bewildered by this whole affair,
apparently. "I suppose I could, that is no problem." That gaze shifts once to
the other huddling sheep, to the sky and then to the surrounds. She seems to be
weighing up her options. Well, not including the other sheep, that is. At least
the birds don't seem to be disturbed, but are flocking all around and singing
and calling with joy. "Is that all?"
 
Hugh shuffles some more. "Yes," he answers eventually, clearly unsure of the
etiquette for saying goodbye to giant talking birds.
 
[Iavasuial(#26974)]
 The beak clicks. Talons tighten around the blood-stained body. "Very
well. I shall leave you, and thank-you again for allowing me my meal. Fair
winds to you. I shall listen for the news." Staring to the man again with that
sharp gaze, Iavasuial finally spreads her wings and, with what looks like a
great deal of effort, manages to rise up off the ground- again flowers and
grass bending beneath the force of a small gale. The sheep hangs limply from
the massive claws and rises with her, and as she finds the right altitude,
turns and swoops off to eat elsewhere.
 
"G-good day," Hugh stammers out, clutching very tightly to his staff with both
hands so that he doesn't lose his balance. As the Eagle rises, the old man's
untidy thatch of white hair streams out behind him like a comet's tail. He
watches her go in silence, then shakes his head once more. "Talkin' birds," he
mutters. "If word o' this gets out, they'll say I've gone clean off me head. Oh
dear ... oh dear ..." But he's already hobbling back toward the rest of the
flock, ready to count their number and deal with any injuries - and what he'll
make of this encounter on the morrow, who knows? For today, life in Combe goes
on ...
 
=== Iavasuial's DESC =========================================================
 
 This creature could only be one of the great Eagles, towering around 9
feet, the avian is covered in feathers of autumn-red and gold. The eyes hold
intelligence within their depths, and are amber and green in colour- piercing
and watching. The form of this bird is held with a certain amount of pride and
dignity which is accentuated by the measured flick of her head (for she is
definately afemale- and this can be read through her eyes, or perhaps in the
way she moves, by those who know her kind) or the brief opening and then
closing of her hooked and sharp beak.
 
 Some of her beauty is detracted from by sharp talons; powerful and
built for defence of swooping down on prey. Understandably, a sad ending
becomes of most who are on the other end of those claws. Nevertheless, she is a
creature of grace- while in the air, and beauty.
==============================================================================