Leanna bowed her head as she accepted the armour "I'll use it with honour." She seemed a little puzzled at the images of the Roman pantheon and shrugged a little at it. She donned the armour and then headed out.

As they reached the ruins, Leanna led them through the paths she used when she passed through here. She constantly kept her Greatsword in hand, expecting Huns at any point.

"How many years, I wonder...," Heolstor thought aloud "Have these lamps and monuments stood watch here?" The Saxon's horse stepped lightly over the bridge, slow enough to keep pace with those who walked. "I have thought for sometime that the Romans were softer, weaker, than us." Lord Strang continued. He wasn't sure who he was talking too - Petra, certainly, but perhaps their newest companions too.

"Than Northmen, I mean." Heolstor clarified. Above him, Pwyll soared through the ruins, lofting gently to a crumbling statue and alighting atop its headless marble neck.

"But this..." The warrior nodded in the direction of the bridge. "This isn't weakness." Heolstor looked ahead, to the road East. Pwyll leapt from his perch, dark wings beating a path towards Hunnic lands and war.

"Weakness could not last so long..." Heolstor muttered, voice quiet and thoughtful.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:29, Wed 10 July 2013.

Brennus is the one with the history.  The first Roman Bridge was built here in the first century AD.  It was replaced with the stone bridge less than a century later, and it was rebuilt in 333 and now, the river has been bridged here for the better part of five centuries.*  Even by Elven reckoning, that’s a good chunk of time.


They watch warily as the move through the decaying remnants of what was once the east side of Mos Trajectum.  This area was built low to the river plain, and parts of it close to the water actually appear to be slowly sinking.  (That is, on a year by year scale, not like you're going to see it!)

It's the kind of place where imagination can play tricks- the creaking of old beams, a stone occasionally skittering down from a pile of rubble, a rat running through shadows.  But as yet, no real signs of opposition.




*This bridge, in the real world, finally collapsed in the 13th century,  900 years past its last major overhaul.  Not a bad bit of bridge building.  The crossing stayed strategically important and other bridges built on the same site.  In WWII the bridge was blown up by both sides, and rebuilt by both sides.



 

"The Romans ruled the world not very many decades ago." Brennus reminded Heolstor. "I'll wager this bridge will stand long after the Huns have withered away to nothing."

He glanced around and in a lower voice said: "Several patrols have scouted out this area. They have seen “signs” but no actual Orcs. I'm not a military man but to me that says scouts are present while larger numbers are not."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:52, Wed 10 July 2013.

"Whatever their numbers, we present a target. For one who claims to not be a warrior, you have a head for it." Heolstor looked to the column following behind him. Their formation wasn't too stretched out - how could it be? There were only twelve of them. Still though, this main thoroughfare made them vulnerable. Heolstor raised his right hand, forming a closed fist. The signal to halt immediately or "freeze" in place.

The Saxon pointed out two groups of four, one headed by Brennus and the other by Leanna. Then he indicated the path North through the ruins to Leanna and the road South to Brennus. "Until we are out of these ruins. Be mindful: the enemy is clever, he is ruthless, and we are in his land. Whatever claim Gwalthus makes to these crumbling walls. I will lead my three up the main street." The implied task was for these groups to support eachother should they come into enemy contact within the ruins.

Leanna shrugged a little as she partially ignored the group told to follow her. As she led them through the ruins. Once we clear the ruins, we're clear of most enemy's. And if we keep ourself big enough as a group, their scouts won't likely see us as a target of oppertunity.

Reluctanly Brennus rode back a little way to join up with his three warriors. "We'll uh, bring up the rear I suppose."

Leanna is correct about the relative sizes of the group, and the Hun scouts.  The Huns have give up leaving large forces here.  They’ve gone through too many scouts.  But where they number have numbers… there is still ferocity.

The more sharp eared among the group hears them first- snorting, heavy breathing and thumping footfalls reminiscent of cattle… but the hairy heads, while having the horns of bulls, are held erect.

Still, there appear to be only two of them, off in the ruins.  Among the tumble-down walls and piles of brick and stone, they cannot find cover as easily as Humans can, and their great horned heads stick out.  They pause, as if trying to make the calculation- is this group worth it, or not?  Even monsters have a sense of self preservation.

 

Brennus could see the enemy but he was in no hurry to attack. Doubtless even if they were as few in number as they looked they had set traps. Still no harm in keeping his sword to hand and instructing his men to do likewise.

Not all encounters mean combat.  Sometimes, both sides are hesitant when a battle means little to gain in return for the risk.  The minotaurs are fierce creatures, and strong, no doubt they could make quite a dent in the force they face.  But they know they are only one bridge away from Mos Trajectum, and Duke Gwalthus, and more than enough warriors to overwhelm them.  An alarm would be sounded, and a hundred men would be across the bridge before the Minotaurs finished dealing with this patrol.

They watch, they observe.  Sometimes, even a Minotaur knows to leave the fight to another day.

The troop continues on through the remains of the “East bank” village unperturbed, and soon they are on the road headed east, straight towards Falcon Hill, and beyond that, Coriovallum.

Within two hours, they can see the old outpost of Falcon Hill on the rise, on the south bank of the Geul.

The small tributary is the sort of watercourse that would rate as “river” in the modern world only west of the Mississippi.  It is a gentle, easily fordable flow.  Leanna recalls that past Falcon Hill it veers to the south, but the forest becomes much denser, and the going is tougher.  That's why few go that way.  But on the other hand, the Huns have the same difficulty, and they tend not to go that way either.

"That battle was not our own. It would only delay and distract us from our true purpose." Heolstor explained, as his horse set a calm course down the road. "We will have enough anyway, I suspect, by the time this is through.

The Saxon set their course for the tributary's bank, as he had discussed with Petra. He said nothing of the river goddess, and her message - though he found himself trusting to the Meuse's promise. Petra had believed her... And one did not question gods and goddesses, not if one was wise anyway.

Minotaurs.

Bull-headed men. Petra had encountered the like, before.

Figuratively speaking.   Never literally.  In spite of all she'd seen, the priestess gaped a little at the horned goliaths; wondering what bad magic spawned such a mix of man and animal.  If she recalled, the Romans had some legend of a cursed queen mating with a bull, or such.  But, she gave it no more credence than she did Hermod's species arising from the decapitation of a snake-haired woman.  Romans were a fanciful lot, for such a civilized and rational tending people.

Anyrate, she agreed with Heolstor's take on the battle; nodded her concurrence to his words.  And was glad that she, at least, had a man with a better head on his shoulders.  Likewise glad he was acting on what Mosanna had conveyed to them.  Her own faith in the goddess of the river was strong.  She was certain they had been steered rightly.

His new companions seemed to keep themselves to themselves Brennus noted, and he was hesitant to intrude on their thoughts. Instead he turned to Leanna for conversation.

"Have you been in the Duke's service long?"

The next "waypoint" on the journey is a place called Falcon Hill.  It is the site of an old outpost, placed where the road to Coriovallum crosses the Geul River.  The Geul is small, and easily forded over it's whole length, but it leads into wilder country, away from the road.

Countryside with old magic associated with it- fairies, spirits, and monsters, the northern fringe of the great forest called the Ardennes.  It is rarely traveled.

Falcon Hill itself, though, has been occupied many times during a long, long history.  Its stories are ancient by even Elven reference, though maybe not in the eyes of Treants.  When Humans and Elves were young and wild, before they tamed metal, they collected Flint in the caves below the hill.  Millenia later, the Romans would build a fort on the hill to watch the road.

The fort is ruin now, destroyed in the wars with the Huns, but Leanna and Brennus would know that it is rarely an empty ruin.  Sometimes, it's Huns.  Just as the Huns often keep watchers close to the bridge at Mos Trajectum, they occasionally keep a patrol at the ruins.  But there is more.  An ancient place like this has a way of calling out, and there are often dangers in the caves and ruins on that hill that would prey on Orcs just as quickly as they would on Humans or Elves.  That is one of the reason no one has even tried to hold the hill for very long, since the fort was destroyed.

It does have a way of making everyone feel watched.  But if they keep on the road, and then keep to the bank of the Geul river, they should come no closer than a quarter mile to the old stones, and far older caves.

"The next time it falls someone should demolish that thing." Brennus says to the others as they sight the shattered walls of the fort in the distance.

Leanna shrugged a little at the question directed at her "For as long as I have been old of to volunteer. I haven't kept exact track of it." She grinned a little as she pressed onward. She decided to stay a bit closer to Brennus, seeing as he was one of the first to strike up a conversation with her.

"So Brennus, what is the plan any ways. We go into their lands and then?"

Brennus looked surprised then smiled back.  "I haven't been told much if anything more than you I'm afraid; I think the Lord of Lingones has a plan though. I think we'll want to meet up with the subjects of the Hun soon enough - we need friends who are familiar land."

He glances at the scout thoughtfully and asks: "Have you crossed swords or arrows with the Hun many times?"

At some point, when there is an opening in the conversation, or if she is asked directly, Petra would supply: "It is in fact Aquae Granni that we must reclaim from them.  All else, in this region, hinges on our doing so.  The import of it cannot be overstated. For those reasons I mentioned earlier. We are taking some of this on faith, yes; but Mosanna of the Meuse has proven a reliable friend, on more than one occasion. I think not heeding her counsel would be a very bad strategy."  And, as to what they were up against-

"You are courageous warriors, and you need to know now, that the champion of the Huns there is a giant.  Who has several times repelled the efforts of the Elves.  His power is made greater by the amulet he bears, that he thieved from the temple.  It is an old, old, gift of Belenus.  The wearer may bring to himself injuries taken by others; even a death blow that has felled another. Which might seem more curse, than gift -- but, wounds that would slay orcs or humans outright are like pin pricks to him.  His own minions may be hard to kill, consequently.  For this reason, we must not be overconfident as regards the Hun's smallish numbers.  And we will need to scout, before engaging, and devise the most clever strategy possible against this foe."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:15, Thu 25 July 2013.

They skirt around Falcon Hill… but there is that inevitable “we’re being watched” feeling.

Hermod, Petra’s winged horse, gives an occasional disgruntled snort, being somewhat sensitive to the presence of Things That Shouldn’t Be there.

When the get a good look at the old ruin on the hill, they can see, here and there, the heads watching them.  Maybe.  Hard to tell, at the distance.

Then they turn southeast, along the fast but shallow tributary river called the Geul.

This seems to provoke a reaction.  There is definitely movement up on the ruined fort.  Maybe it’s just a reaction to the change in direction- after all, the group is now headed in a very unusual direction.

As Leanna knows, people don’t come down this way.  This way goes into the northern fringe of the Ardennes forest, and things can get strange there.

"All that Petra says is true." Lord Strang confirmed. He held his mount's reins loosely with one hand, while the other sat his belt hanging inches from his scabbard. "The shrine at Aquae Granni must be recovered and the foul champion that guards it thrown down. We will do all this, and in so doing destabilize the Hun... Casting his claims of power, and the loyalty of his warlords, into doubt." From his shoulder Pwyll, the Saxon's crow, crooned approvingly.

As they rode, Heolstor's gaze traveled back on occasion to the old fort. Here and there, a silhouette emerged to haunt the horizon. Strang knew they would send word. Fortunately, the orcs at Aquae Granni would not receive word in time, he tought. Not if they hurried.

"We race against rumor now. We'll have to be quick, words have wings." Heolstor suggested.

The group picks up the pace...
And as they go south, the scenery changes.  The greenery becomes lusher, wilder.  There is a certain look to the last stands of primeval forests.  Life looks more alive.  There are draperies of moss in trees, and clusters of bright mushrooms.  The land has a soft, easy look, with the Geul flowing along a valley a mile wide between very low, rounded hills.

But no sign of being followed, or intercepted.

The hills become more pronounced the further south they get.  With a good day's trek behind them, they make camp along the Geul River, and continue further upstream the next day.

It is on the second day...

There is a loud howling from the forest to the south, further along the direction of travel.  Those who have heard wolves know it is not a wolf, and while Orcs have been known to bellow out their war cries, it is no Orc either.

Brennus had by now given up trying to converse with the Lord of Lingones and his Half-Eleven companion but the sound of the howling filled him with sufficent alarm to speak up.  "An Orc trick?" He suggested. "Perhaps using warhorns?"

He didn't sound like he was convinced by his own theory.

Even without orders, the troops with the group take up defensive positions at the sound, and orient themselves in the direction of the howling.



There is a change in the flow in the water of the Geul.  Like a sudden bulge in the water, carrying with it a trio of early blooming water lilies.


Hermod snorts, in that way that he does when something with some magical nature has got his attention.

But the ground here is flat and thick with trees.  There are hills that might offer a vantage point, about a thousand feet away to either side.

Brennus looks uneasy, his hand constantly straying to the hilt of his sword. He looked at the stream, then did so again in surprise. Quickly he drew the attention of the others to the floating lilies.

<Purple>"Water lilies grow in still water my lord, not a quick moving stream like the Geul."/Purple>

Unaware that a man who'd never once addressed her personally, was now ignoring her out of some sense of sleight, Petra continued to attempt to offer what she did know:

"Some river goddesses, such as Mosanna, make claim of the entire watershed; the river, and its tributaries, from source even out to sea.  Or so I've been informed.  So while we cannot rule out some foul magic in a fair guise, I believe this more probably a hailing from our ally." She stroked her steed's neck briefly.  "And Hermod seems only to sense magic, of some variety.  Not malevolence." But she shrugged and summed:

"Of course, best to be cautious, until we may say for certain."   

OOC- Brennus, I was out for a time, and Ben was minding my character.  I know he did reply a few times for Petra, and that was because I'd requested him to do.  Beyond that, I don't think your character made any attempts to speak with mine. If he did and got no reply, it wasn't out of indifference. And I apologize for that. And, it looks Heolstor has dialogged a fair bit with you. His player has a military career, and does get busy periodically.

Both of us tend to longer posts, every few days, rather than the short daily kind.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:52, Fri 02 Aug 2013.