(514-02-02) Ghostly Festivities
Summary: During the Feast of the Presentation, the White Abbey is host to a visitation.
Date: February 2, 514
Related: None
acwel lysanor sirkay kamron emrys cyndeyrn edwyn 

Today the Feast of the Presentation is under way. The Cathederal is celebrating by special masses throughout the day, sermon's by the bishop, and discussion of the year to come. Unlike there, the White Abby is indeed more festive. Tables have been set up in the courtyard, food brought out from the priests private stores to celebrate this feast. Its close to mid-February, placed from the recognized Epiphany of January 6th by British standards. Holly is strong, a tradition taken perhaps from the Cymric roots, it is near evening and candles and pitched torches light the space. More candles invite inside where, instead of sermon's and organized masses, some of the monks lead in prayer services dedicated to the young Jesus and his presentation at the temple. The turning of the tables reserved for the hellfire preaching in the Cathederal, this more a coming of age, the passing into spring youth. A group of tables are specific to knights and ladies of the court of Earl Robert. While more Roman Christian himself he has made appearance at the feast, but is not currently in attendance

The feast underway, corresponding so that others who attended mass and services at other locations can still come. Tables set up a plenty. Some music to be had, a joyous celebration. The time of the year winter is hardest, when the church can also open up its stores to share and distribute what they have in stock. The food is good, and at the White Abbey, the wine is just as well. Free flowing to say the least. Tables set up, there is an appearance of court as well. A table reserved for Robert, nearby tables for knights and ladies in descending order. The small end is usually the most festive, the older knights reserved.

However there is one older gent amongst the small tables, round of belly, big of fiery beard, jolly of nature. He's amidst a story, "… and then the Saxons upon realizing they'd be no spoil from the chapel, turned for the hills." Given with a laugh. Place open nearby, he has a heaped plate of food before him. His clothes seem slightly out of time, but then, for his age, could of been something fashionable when he was younger. White sleeved, a surcoat more like a tabbard, of green and orange. Upon its coat is a fish and a stag at ends. Some places still open around him for those arriving, others could of been listening to him the whole time.

Edwyn is settled near the older gentleman. Perhaps its odd to see a man from a mostly Pagan family here but Edwyn de Burcombe looks perfectly content. A modest plate of food and a glass of wine are before him. He eats slowly listening to the story with a thoughtful expression. As the older man finishes the dark haired knight smiles warmly to him. "A fine story Sir, and one with a rather happy ending if I do say so myself. Fleeing Saxons are always a good thing and even better that they did not loot or destroy the chapel." He takes a sip of his wine and returns his attention to his food for a moment listening while others converse for now.

Acwel lifts his goblet of wine to the jolly old fellow, flashing him a bit of a grin when it comes to Saxons being tricked. "Perhaps one day I can emulate that much cunning in one of my own exploits, good Sir." He wonders, sipping from the wine and then setting the cup upon the table. Being a vassal knight has some front-table sitting privileges to it.

Seated among her female cousins at her family's end of the table, Lysanor pauses in their conversation and gossip to listen to the elderly man speak. The tale is uplifting and to this she comments, making those seated around her to turn their attention to the storyteller as well now, "It's always wonderful to hear such an inspirational tale and even moreso on this special day." One of the staff passes by to offer her a slice of meat from his tray, before she continues on, "It is tales like these that will inspire the young, seeing that they grow into chivalrous knight." To this, she lifts her goblet of wine in the elderly man's direction.

"Ah, certainly," he chuckles along with Edwyn. The man seeming to drink from the same cup all feast long, his food seemingly untouched despite having just been there, or around, during the festivities. "The best side of a saxon is his back side. Either fleeing or trying to flee. And truly, a good time to come togethe rone and all" Another chuckle for Edwyn, but a smile turned towards the Lady, in agreement with the sharing of tales. There is a turn towards Acwel, "Indeed good Sir. I shall hope you do one day have many exploits to share. You remind me of my son." A looking in his eyes, he's not seeing present company, or looking off to some memory at least. "I've not seen him in a few years, and he's far away." A turn where he sits, looking off to the west. There is a move to his hand for the food, abscent mind, but he grabs nothing, and looks at his empty hand. Coming back to jolly with a grin and a look around, "Who here can sing for us?"

Edwyn checked his awareness of 5, he rolled 19.
Edwyn checked his heraldry of 5, he rolled 19.
Lysanor checked her awareness of 9, she rolled 16.
Critical Fail!
Lysanor checked her heraldry of 3, she rolled 20.
Acwel checked his awareness of 10, he rolled 14.
Acwel checked his heraldry of 3, he rolled 4.

Edwyn bows his head to respect to the older man. "Uniting under a common cause is always a good thing yes, those always make the best stories too I've found. People coming together to aid each other despite thier differences. It is very inspirational so thank you for the tale." A look of agreement is given to the Lady as she speaks. He inclines his head to Lysanor in a polite fashion and takes another sip of his wine. The old knights crest is studied a moment but the Burcombe knight cannot place where it comes from. His expression remains thoughtful and he falls silent once again.

"Thank you," Acwel replies to the older knight, bowing his head though he says nothing else. He sips from the goblet, and wonders, of the veteran: "Do you know which way he might have went? Perhaps my journeys might intersect with his own, and I might be able to bring him back home for quite a grand reunion between you and himself, sir. Well, if he is enjoying himself, suppose I might have to ply him with enough ale to last half a lifetime." He grins at that.

Some of the conversation surrounding Lysanor begins to pick up again, but the young lady finds the elder knight's words to be far more interesting at the time. Or perhaps it is the mystery which surrounds him. As she listens to him speak, Lysanor makes every attempt to try and gauge who this man is and where he comes from, but something which Edwyn says catches her attention, drawing her gaze in the young man's direction. Being neighboring Houses, she knows of him well enough, even if she knows of his family even more. A polite nod is given back in return, before Acwel's inquiry brings her back into the immediate conversation. Where had she seen those colors, that heraldry. Biting down on her lip, a contemplative expression upon her fair face, she knows she had seen them somewhere. "Do you hail from one of the manses towards the east or south of Salisbury, good Sir?"

"Indeed, common cause and this season, reason enough lad," chortles (lightly) the man towards Edwyn, a knowing nod then another drink from his ever flowing goblet it would seem. Ah, Acwel perks his interest with the questions, the smile faltering just a little, still there, but fond in memory for a beat. "It was some time ago, I only saw him as a boy, he was taken from me. He would be something of your age by now, maybe older, but yes, I think so." A nod, he has to really think about that, maybe the libations not helping him as lysanor catches his ear a moment. "Salisbury? The Lord Above no, I'm from Somerset. Why would we be in Salisbury?" That really confuses him for the moment, forgetting to get to which manse he may well be from.

Edwyn smiles faintly and nods to the older knight. He remains silent for now content to patiently listen as the others speak. The old knights mention of his son draws a look of empathy from the dark haired man and its then that he will speak once more. "I hope you find him again one day Sir and that your reunion is a happy one." Its all he says but its said sincerely. When Lysanor questions about where the man comes from he falls silent again listening with interest but not interupting.

"Taken." He echoes that word of the man's, narrowing his gaze thoughtfully. "I have not introduced myself, good Sir. I am Sir Acwel de Woodford, son of Llewellyn de Woodford, son of Dafydd de Woodford, a pleasure to meet a venerable knight as you, and may your blade always strike true in the service of our good King." The Woodford knight introduces himself, "but I am afraid I have neither a name nor a manor to put to you, seeing as you are from Somerset, and I am not that knowledgeable on all the lines of prominence as I am absolutely certain yours is, my brother-in-arms." He gestures for a servant to pour him some more wine, and lifts his glass to the man.

Taking a small sip from her goblet, Lysanor continues to listen when the man addresses all questions made out to him. It is when he responds to her own that makes her look a touch sheepish for her mistake and to this she quickly responds, "My apologies for my error, but as I am from Salisbury, I thought your colors and banner to be familiar. I have learned now, that I was wrong." Still, this does not make the man any less intriguing, though there is little that she knows of those in Somerset. Just as Acwel narrows in on the term give, 'taken', by the elderly man, this has also piqued the young woman's curiosity, though she does not dare to interrupt this time.

The man is focused again on his story. "Ah, I am Irfon de Ansford, son of Luc de Ansford, son of Fychan de Bath. The pleasure is mine good sirs and lady alike." His name given, himself placed. A shake of his head to the lady. "The apology is mine, I did not realize I was sitting at the visitors table. Though you all seem on a voyage. I do not think my son knows of me, or of his place. I've not seen him since Idres invaded Jargent, where I was with my cousin. Defeated during the invasion, my son was taken captive and not returned. I only hope he bodes will beyond the border, but his inheritance, it awaits him. I wish I could go free him now from his captivity."

"Perhaps, good Sir, I might be able to assist in making this process more expedient," Acwel pledges, apparently all too aware of what it means to lose a family member — his own father departed long before the Woodford knight earned his spurs, after all. "If you have any clues as to where your child might have been, I could be able to mount an expedition with my friends and cousins, all glorious knights in service of the Earl of Salisbury, where," he smiles a bit more awkwardly, but still pleasantly, "we are at present. You said he is in Idres, but do you know where or with whom, specifically?"

"Well, it is a pleasure to be graced by your company, Sir Irfon de Ansford." Lysanor starts out by saying, but the deeper the conversation gets regarding the disappearance of the man's son, the more captivated she is by it. So for now, she wisely allows the Lord of Woodford to learn more about the situation, though she silently fears what may have become of the boy, for this all occurred so many years ago.

Then man continues his tale for those who will listen. "At the moment my cousin's manor was raided, the one that came upon me wore azure upon gold, there was a stag with a heart over its head upon his arms. This is but all I know. I can only assume he is returned with King Idres some where, perhaps into Cornwall itself. I believe you and yours, if this is truly Salisbury, came to push the king back after my time. If he lives, that is where he should be. And, in my line, our hair and beards surely give us away. I suspect his hair is flame as is his beard." A smile, as if he would of hoped to see this son. "It is curious I am in Salisbury, it seems beyond my reach, but here I am. The Lord, works in mysterious ways."

Kamron enters the courtyard from the chapel, brushing off his knees as he does. Three steps into the courtyard, he's been given a cup, and four steps in, he stops, taking a sip and glancing around for familiar faces. Those who stand out are easiest, and so after a bit of searching and scanning, he is off toward where his cousin sits with several other relative youngsters and the… spreading… knight. Approaching the group, he offers Lysanor a smile and a touch of fingers to her arm, "Dear cousin." He catches the tail end of what the older knight was saying, nodding his head, "You will ever find the knights of Salisbury quick to the call of our liege against those of Cornwall." A faint, wry hint of a smile touches his lips, "Even the young among us have long memories, and the fields of Terrabil were not so long ago, sir."

So enthralled by this Sir Ifron's story, Lysanor doesn't notice the arrival of her cousin until she feels the pat of his hand upon her arm and his voice in greeting. Warmly, she places her own hands upon the back of Kamron's before he withdraws to take his seat among the rest of their family. "It is a great injustice for you to be torn away from your son and rightful heir for this long. It is as Sir Acwel had said, to right this wrong done to you and yours, I am confident that our brave knight in the service of the Earl Salisbury will come together to see that you and your son are reunited." Though she is not a knight, herself, and has little to do with the planning of such expeditions, the petite young lady seems truly confident enough in her own words. Turning to her cousin now, she explains, "This is Sir Irfon de Ansford. He has given us both a glorious tale of retreating Saxons and now this heart-wrenching story. We must help to bring his son back home to him."

The man listens to both, taking heart to the arrival of the lady's cousin. Ifron grins and drinks yet more from that single goblet. Its a wonder he doesn't spill some time the way he tilts the cups. "Ah, you are all kind and generous, perhaps why I am at this very Feast." Good christian virtues all the same. He chuckles about that for the moment, letting his cup slam to the table nearly, but silently at odds with that motion. "I could but ask this of you, this kindness. I do not know the stance of Cornwall these days. In the time of Idres it was no better than the Saxons, but I have heard another battle has come there, with an invader from the north. Still, I am certain my son lives, beyond hope maybe, with this raider that claimed him some 20 years ago. I would be in your service." What service he has left, though there is a youthful appearance despite his age, one might wonder if he could have a son fully 20 years of age even.

Emrys checked his Heraldry of 10, he rolled 8.
Emrys checked his Awareness of 10, he rolled 19.

Late, or perhaps right on time, another of the younger knights in attendance to Robert's court shows himself, in subdued finery. In truth, this one eye'd knight seems to look more priest and scholar than perhaps his martial brethren. All the same, it takes no time for him to find a seat, his keen green eye focused from his kin-to the fellow with them. Soon enough he might actually try to focus on whom he is joining besides the fella with the red beard. A quirk of a smile shows on Emrys face as he unwittingly sits down next to Lysanor, without too much jostling. He'll nay interrupt this good sir. Rather quickly try to catch up.

Kamron checked his just at 16, he rolled 14.
Kamron checked his heraldry at 5, he rolled 14.
Kamron checked his awareness at 9, he rolled 10.

Kamron bows his head slightly in greeting to the elder knight as he is introduced, "Sir Kamron de Dinton, Sir Ifron, cousin to this lovely lady before you." Settling into a seat at the table and setting his cup down before him, the younger knight nods again, more slowly, "Having no issue, I can only imagine the pain you feel at the loss of your son." For all his smiles before, a more serious cast settles over his brow, "And surely, no man who would steal another man's family should prosper. It seems that you are in need of good, honest assistance. While I am certain I would receive a poor reception in Cornwall, that discomfort seems a willing tithe to reunite a good Christian knight and his long-lost son."

The man seems cordial, taking Ifron's attention for the moment as others eat and listen. His food still untouched. "Aye, it is a great weight upon me that I could not be the father he needed, to know another raised him. Perhaps unkindly even. You speak correctly Sir Kamron de Dinton. Your words bring honor to your family. The reception in Cornwall would not bode well for any of us these days. They prefer to close their borders to the likes of us. Yet, I am sure someone as cunning could find a way." He looks around, a twinkle to his eyes even, jolly nature returning to him. "The Lord works in his own ways, what fate he brought us here seems to have its very purpose set before us this night. Were I buying, the evening would be on me, but then, my thanks to the monks for opening their stores to us just the same.

There's a glance over towards Kamron, before he is clearing his throat and there, the knight leans forward from his place beside Lysanor. he will do is best to make up for his rudeness to the lady later. Instead there's a grin given from Kamron, on over towards the big bellied knight, and there he leans forward a bit. "My good Sir Ansford, if there is anyway I can be of assistance, as well-please allow me. And there he bows his head partially. "Sir Ermys de Newton, at your service. You say a certain level of cunning is needed. But perhaps maybe the right bit o' Charity as well?"

Kamron checked his Trusting at 10, he rolled 15.
Kamron checked his Suspicious at 10, he rolled 6.
Kamron checked his courtesy at 10, he rolled 13.

There is something in the return to joviality in the other man that causes a momentary frown to pass over Kamron's features for just a moment, "You're right, it is quite generous of them to open their stores." He remembers the morning assault at Terrabil, the early sortie, and that frown deepens for just a moment, "Please excuse me, Sir Ifron, I don't mean to be rude," Kamron rushes past those polite words perhaps just a little too quickly, "But who did you say your liege was?" Never trust a Cornishman, say some of the veterans of those terrible twin battles. Ermys's words cause him to grimace a little further and look down, perhaps questioning his own questioning, or just ashamed at his own lack of charity.

Lysanor checked her temperate of 13, she rolled 7.

Lysanor recognizes Emrys when he comes to join them at their table and she affords him a warm smile in greeting just as he settles in, "I am pleased that you could make it, Sir Emrys. I am expecting to meet with more of your family as the day goes on." The pleasantries aside, the conversation at hand casts more of a darker tone and this is what her attention returns to as her cousin makes more inquiries about the whole ordeal. It is not her place to speak up about anything and perhaps Kamron knows more of these matters than she, thus rather than rehash things that the stranger had mentioned before, she awaits curiously for the response, her own gaze eyeing some of the sweets now presented to her. But as she feels that she may have had her fill, she declines, despite the delicious temptation.

Taking between the two knight, Ifron, the portly apparently visiting knight from Somerset, loses just a little of his jovial demeanor. "Ah, Charity, I am sure you should have the hearth to my home should you visit, once Siarl is returned from Cornwall." He could ponder more on what charity might be sought, but Sir Kamron catches his ear again, and the man turns to him, giving a tug of his beard for the moment. "Ah, certainly me Liege, his Grace, King Cadwy." Of Somerset, elderly as he may be. "I should be amongst his court now, this trip to Salisbury is rather unexpected. It is but my age." He laughs, another drink from his cup.

Emrys passes a quick smile back over towards Lysanor. "Oh, Lady Lysanor, my pardons." his voice whispers quickly so as not to distract from Sir Arnsford's troubles. A quick press of hand to her arm in greeting, but thankfully it does not linger longer than it should. "Gwion should be round. Alas I am late to Sarum. I suspect I've missed much." but he can catch up later. Kamron, whom he knows as well is given the focus and a slight wince.

"Oh my good sir. I should have been clearer, I meant mayhaps I could apply to those whom hold your son. Please forgive me." his hands shown on the table before he is looking to Kamron again. "I knew a man of Ansford when we served in the household here. He was visiting-twas before I lost my eye." owing to his knowing of the heraldry.

"I am sure there is some way we can help a fellow Christian?" Tis the season and all.

Kamron checked his forgiving at 10, he rolled 8.

Kamron only slowly seems to get what Emrys is suggesting, blinking in surprise at the other knight. But then he is looking back to Ifron, and he nods slightly, "Certainly, Sir Ifron, righting an age-old wrong is the duty of all true and just knights." The reassurances from the elder knight and from Emrys alike seem to have calmed his suspicion somewhat, and he takes a sip of his wine, "Well then, if we will drink to your liege, will you join us in a drink to our own, and to our Lord and Savior? You might tell us about the man who took your son, and we shall see what can be done for it."

"Yes," Lysanor echoes her cousin's curiosity, her bright blue eyes focused completely on Ifron, "Do tell us about the one who ripped your own child away from you." Her eyes flicker in the direction of one of the staff who deftly refills her goblet when the mention of drink is brought up. "I do wonder if any sense of diplomacy will be necessary in all of this or if the knight will have to rely on force alone." She then looks between Acwel, Kamron and Emrys, knowing that all three have shown some eagerness to tend to this matter.

The man finds his spirits again, smile returning to his lips and his eyes. Not that it left Ifron, but its strong once more, festive with the season and the feast. "Aye, you could apply, such would be the cause of any who could travel to Cornwall in search of my boy." He holds up his cup, considering a toast even. Its hard to pass up the opportunity to indulge like this, Ifron not one to turn cups down either. Still on his same cup all the same. "It was a man dark of hair and eye, green perhaps. His arms were azure upon gold, a stag, its facing sinister, a heart over its head. I do not think this will have changed much, other than the man and his age. Perhaps white of hair now." Then he lifts his cup for the toast to any who partake, "Let us join cause under our Savior, to your liege as well, and your own my new friends."

Emrys checked his heraldry of 10, he rolled 14.

Emrys shrugs given the description of the arms, but he does lean forward listening. "I am sure we can find him. And your son." As to the toast he raises "Jesu." murmured soft before imbibing.

Kamron checked his temperate at 13, he rolled 14.
Kamron checked his indulgent at 7, he rolled 18.
Kamron checked his heraldry at 5, he rolled 7.

Kamron chuckles lightly at Lysanor's question, "Remember, dear cousin, I do carry an axe into the fray. Blunt force trauma is what I do best. But…" and here a smile sneaks into his voice and onto his face, "…that being said, I think diplomacy might be called upon here. No one would thank us if we were to stir up trouble in Cornwall once more." He lifts his cup to join Ifron in the toasts he suggested, drinking once, twice, three times. "King Cadwy, King Arthur," because he's got to match the other man's grandeur, "And Jesu Christos." By the third toast, his cup still has some wine left in it, but not a great deal. Frowning a little muzzily into his cup, he considers, "Stag and heart… I knew a stag and hart," the pronunciation is close, but the meaning quite different. Once more, he raises up his cup, "To the reuniting of father and son."

Critical Success!
Lysanor checked her heraldry of 3, she rolled 3.

"Here, here." Lysanor says in a far more distant tone as a memory begins to surface in her mind. Still, she smiles pleasantly at the gathered, her own cup raised before it is then lowered and she takes a small, distracted sip. It is one thing for her to remember some random heraldry seen in some of the texts documenting such things as holdings and the like, but to place a name to that symbol. Slowly her eyes begin to narrow, looking determined to wrack her brain and match a name to the.. "I may have recalled a similarly described heraldry from a place in Exeter. Stoke Cannon, I believe." Taking another deep sip from her cup, she licks her lips before finally stating, "The name Sir Branok is now becoming familiar. Sir Branok de Stoke Cannon. Quite Cornish sounding, I would think."

Emrys checked his temperate of 13, he rolled 19.
Critical Success!
Emrys checked his indulgent of 7, he rolled 7.

Shouts to King and hearth are echoed from the cups before Emrys is looking back at Lysanor. "Aye sounds Cornish to me." he'd concur, though really he's not the clue. Emrys will lean on trust in this instant.
With another round poured Emrys is merrily and certainly enough keeping up, cup for loving cup.

There are some here here's in agreement with each king called out in the toast by Sir Kamron. Sir Ifron takes a drink each time. Must be plenty of room in there for him to drink from of course. And still no touching of the food before him. "Ah, this sounds like a good story, and my ears are keen to listen. It frees time for my lips to drink, Sir Kamron." And another drink to father and son. A chuckle from his bowels again, the sort of do jiggle just a little. Then he looks at the man's cousin, "Aye, this is the reason indeed. I would dare not say a miracle, but my feet have traveled hear that you finally sooth this intrigue that has vexed me, my Lady. Sir Branok, sounds a horrid name indeed." Really not far off from home, come to think of it. But he's certain it sounds too foreign for his ears.

Kamron checked his modest at 13, he rolled 14.
Kamron checked his proud at 7, he rolled 17.

Kamron looks to Lysanor as she names the knight, his eyebrows rising up, "And there we are, cousin, your education doing well. So Sir Branok de Stoke Cannon in Exeter. That sounds like an admirable place to start the hunt." With his cup now empty, he raises it up, getting it refilled by a passing monk and bowing his head in thanks to the man. Turning back to the table, he chuckles, "The Stag and Hart, Sir Cynykin de… I don't remember his family, but he was reputed quite the hunter. We clashed once at the Morning Battle," there can only be one in the life of a young knight, of course, "And again in the Afternoon Battle, where due to the training of my knight, Sir Belles, and the protection of God, I overthrew him."

Emrys checked his modest of 13, he rolled 15.
Emrys checked his proud of 7, he rolled 10.

"Exeter," Acwel seems to have woken up from wine-induced stupor. "Well, I suppose I should start riding that a way soon enough, given that I have pledged you my word, Sir Ifron. I will find your son and bring him back home, so that you two might be reunited as a family once again. I lost my father at a young age, so I know what loss of those dearest to you means."

Emrys blinks at Kamron before he is pointing in the man's direction. "I didn't know you fought that fellow." And there, likely fueled by the cups, Emrys now rises with a smile on his face. "I earned my spurs and harness that day as well-though it cost me my fine eye." And there he motions his eye patch to all available. "I was under Sir Dayfydd. Took an arrow there, By Jesu's loving heart I lived. But carried the day over some man with a cup and doves." a snort there "For King Arthur!" he proposes another toast. "And glory won for king and kin!"

Critical Fail!
Lysanor checked her proud of 16, she rolled 20.

Despite her proud nature altogether, Lysanor's smile is far more subdued after carefully going through all that she had learned or remembered from her teachings to come up with the one answer that will be of great help in this matter. "There is very little that I can do to assist, normally, in these endeavors. I am pleased, however, that I was able to shed some light on the one whom we all seek." When Acwel finally stirs, she lifts a brow in his direction, but looks satisfied that the fervor of finding this long lost son still fuels him. "From what I gather, you may need an army of sorts for something like this. But, perhaps, as I had mentioned to my cousin, Sir Kamron, it may be best to start with a diplomatic approach."

Ifron settles into hearing the tale of the conflict of the Stag and the Hart that Kamron relays to the group. "Ah, a story indeed, and I am sure this may come to pass again. A bit of fate in that meeting it sounds like to me, your paths crossed now. Could be hard to separate them Sir Kamron." He could elucidate some more, but the arrow gets his attention, cup and doves ignored. "Here here," he agrees to another toast from Emrys, "Let us hope you survive all arrows that are hurled your way son. Salisbury should be proud with the likes of this lot." More calm again for Lysanor and Acwel, "It means much to me yes, the hearth of Ansford shall ever warm you for helping, should your horse have desire to travel through Somerset."

Kamron reaches across the table to clap Acwel on the shoulder, "We shall find Sir Ifron's son, good Sir Acwel, if you don't mind." The words are said with a grin and a laugh, however, and Kamron raises up his cup again at Emrys' additional toasts, although he only takes a little sip at each one. "My own knighting did not cost me quite so much as all that, although I would dearly loved to have held him for ransom, but my lack of a squire prevented it, so my loss was only financial, not physical." Nodding to Lysanor, he adds, "You have shown quite wonderfully the use of someone with knowledge beyond swords and arrows, dear cousin. I agree that whatever course we take to Exeter, our best chance for a successful end in Ansford is through words rather than steel."

Critical Fail!
Kamron checked his prudent at 10, he rolled 20.

Raising his cup again, he laughs aloud, throwing back his head, "But the glory is in the hard approach. Stealing Sir Ifron's son straight from under the nose of the villain who took him and conducting him back to Ansford with all haste!"

Emrys grins to his cousin as he lowers his cup, his cheeks showing ruddy. "Indeed we shall l, Good Sir Coz." The one eyed knight is quick to agree. "We should leave as soon as able!" or you know the weather permitting. "I shall commit myself to his cause. Sir Arnsford, Sir Kamron. You have my sword."

Entering for what can only assume are totally normal religious purposes and not for… hearing anyone shouting about lending swords, Cyndeyrn is taken somewhat aback. The voices are familiar, or at least, some of them are, and so glancing around to track down the source he picks out his cousin and sister from the bunch, and soon enough Acwel with them. "What is all of this?" he wonders, with a somewhat concerned tone, especially since his sister is there, and in the presence of at least one very unfamiliar knight.

"I do not mind, though of course I pledged first, so I should likely take point in this one… if you do not mind." Acwel smirks at Kamron's clap on the shoulder, but laughs good-naturedly. "The best way to do this is to find out how and who is ruling Exeter, and then approaching carefully. If we come to a negotiation empty-handed we are like as not to return without our good friend Sir Ifron's son."

Acwel checked his energetic of 16, he rolled 11.

"… And we should be ready tomorrow by the noon at most. Let us not make this man wait a day longer for this!" the Woodford knight adds.

Sir Ifron enjoys the conversation at hand, and the enjoyment of the wine of the Abbey. This man seems slightly out of time, but then, for his age, could of been something fashionable when he was younger. White sleeved, a surcoat more like a tabard, of green and orange. Upon its coat is a fish and a stag at ends. He has a portly belly, and a fiery red beard (desc for all who missed opening). He turns up to Cyndeyrn, "Ah, these lads have agreed to venture forth to Exeter to find my son and place him in his rightful manner, it is a celebration, a feast of the times. Spring is but here now, and we are extolling our Savior, the Lord."

Her lips pursing into a tiny little smirk at her cousin's very sudden change of heart when it came to how to best approach this task, Lysanor cannot help but shake her head, blaming these rush of adrenaline and valor to Kamron simply being a man. "All I ask is that you take care. Sir Brannok de Stoke Cannon is one thing, but there are those who he has pledged under as well." With her brother's sudden arrival, the small red-head quickly turns and rises from her seat in a show of greeting, "Cydeyrn, come, you must hear of this woeful tale. Why Sir Sir Ifron has wandered here to join us from Sommerset and has told us of his plight, which must be righted, for this Sir Brannok de Stoke Cannon in Exeter had taken his son many moons ago." With that all said, she then states, "Sir Acwel has pledged himself as well as the knights of Earl Robert to this cause. Sir Ifron has been so kind to us, sharing his own tales, for good or bad, that I would like to see him reunited with his son once more."

Cyndeyrn checked his awareness of 8, he rolled 4.
Cyndeyrn checked his valorous of 15, he rolled 12.
Cyndeyrn checked his pious of 10, he rolled 7.

Even as Cyndeyrn approaches and first asks to know who this stranger is, he pauses in his steps and tenses, reaching at first for his sword, though pausing as the man speaks. Straightening up to his considerable full height, he addresses the figure in a full voice, while moving toward his sister, a bit more hastily now. "I am here to do the same, but you - what are you? You are here in a holy place, on a holy day, so I trust that you are not of the Devil. But pray, name what sort of apparition you are, for you are not a man! Are you dead? And if so, why do you not rest with our Savior? Sister, I tell you, this is no man, but a spirit of some sort!"

Kamron checked his pious at 10, he rolled 9.

Kamron grins up at Cyndeyrn as his other cousin arrives, gesturing over to Acwel as he explains, then adds, "I care little who leads a party of brothers, my friend. I am quite used to answering to another." Nodding to Lysanor, Kamron says, "Quite right, cousin." And then Cyndeyrn speaks up, and Kamron frowns, looking back to Sir Ifron quickly, "No, Coz… certainly not. Not on the Feast of Presentation, not in a holy place. Sir Ifron has been telling us of his past, not some spirit's tale."

Acwel checked his valorous of 15, he rolled 17.
Acwel checked his cowardly of 5, he rolled 1.
Acwel checked his trusting of 10, he rolled 17.
Acwel checked his suspicious of 10, he rolled 9.

"Sir Cyndeyrn, are you well? Running a fever, perhaps? Clearly this man here is not a spirit. Otherwise, how would he surface in such a holy day and a blessed place, as you said it yourself?" Acwel frowns slightly, perhaps a bit incredulous before he looks towards Lysanor. "What say you, my Lady de Dinton. Do you also believe this man is of flesh and bone or is it perhaps as your brother said?"

Lysanor checked her pious of 10, she rolled 1.

The flood of emotion that goes through Lysanor as she reaches for her brother's arm and relates the tale being told here turns cold rather quickly when Cyndeyrn makes his accusation. "What do you mean, dearest brother?" She asks, her head not turning to look Ifron directly with wide eyes, before she tries to usher her brother into a seat before more attention is drawn to them. "Come now, what is this that you speak of? Sir Ifron de Ansford is a guest here." When she is questioned by Acwel now, Lysanor doesn't know how to respond, but she does plainly say, "I am afraid that I do not have an answer for you, Sir Acwel, but I believe that we shall learn more soon enough."

"It may be his past he speaks of, but who knows how long ago such a past did transpire!" Cyndeyrn declares toward his cousin, still moving nearer until he is with his sister. "Look carefully upon him, when his hand does touch his goblet or rest upon the table, or even the clothes upon him… there is some impermanence there, some transparency or… intangibility, a lack of substance. Ah! I do not have the words for it cousin, I am no priest and little versed in peasant superstition, but he is not fully of the flesh of men! Spirit," and now he rounds and faces the figure fully once more, speaking firmly, if not aggressively: "It is not christian of you to deceive good knights into service, nor to speak falsely in a holy place. If you would have our aid, speak to us the truth. Be you living or dead, man or angel, or some other thing entirely? Speak your answer before God!"

Emrys checked his Valorous of 15, he rolled 17.
Emrys checked his Pious of 10, he rolled 8.

Emrys freezes in his cup and looks from Cynderyn over to Lysanor and then back towards Acwel and Kamron. His lone eye trailing almost alarmedly from Ifron to Cynderyn. A swallow in his throat. And he drinks slowly. "He praised Jesu." though couldnt demons do the same? By God above- What did Emrys pledge to?

Ah, Cyndeyrn takes notice, leaving Ifron to look amongst the group as they discuss him. "Ah, now, I am a pious man, or I was." He admits, looking at the food, wishing he could eat some perhaps. That cup though, he still has it, he still has another big drink from it. "But it is true, was 499 Anno Domini. King Idres invaded Jargent whilst I stayed with my cousin there. I did not make it from his manor, but I was witness as the man took my son to claim as his own." He holds his hands up, he is a guest, but he wouldn't have any put out it seems.
And yes, those who take more notice, as he moves near the table, his clothes do not quite rest upon it, but transcend through it in a manner. The only thing tangible to him it seems is the cup in his hand, which too seems to nip the table at corners when he lifts for toats. And it is curiously ever flowing for the fellow.

Kamron checked his Awareness at 9, he rolled 12.
+5 from Cyndeyrn's Warning = Success.
Kamron checked his Valorous at 15, he rolled 14.

"Jesu Christo…" Kamron bolts upright in his seat, setting the bench to rocking and dropping his cup to grasp at something worn hanging beneath his tunics, "You're right, Coz." And then he focuses his attention on Ifron, reaching beneath his tunics to pull an iron cross from beneath them. He holds it out by the leather strap, extending the emblem to the dead man, "Swear in the name of Our Lord, on this cross, that you speak the truth and mean us now wrong, and I will swear to hold to this task, Sir Ifron, and right the wrong done to you, be you living or dead."

Lysanor checked her awareness of 9, she rolled 19.

Unlike her brother and now her cousin, Lysanor is blind to the fact that Ifron is just some ghostly apparition seated here at this table with them. However, when this revelation does hit Kamron, the young woman quickly crosses herself, her head lowered demurely though her eyes quickly raise as if to see what her kin now sees. "Maybe this was a cy for help. He is asking us to right the wrong done to him and his family." She prays that this was no malicious act, which would have endangered not only her family, but the other valorous knights of Earl Robert as well.

Acwel checked his awareness of 10, he rolled 18.

"In nomine Pater, Filii et Spirictu Sancti," Acwel does the sign of the cross after it is revealed, and his eyes are ever intent on the spirit. "Swear it and you have my sword, Sir Ifron."

Taking another quick drink from his cup, Ifron puts it down for a moment, it does seem to hover about table height, maybe a little bit just above it now that one looks more closely. Both hands held up, he looks up for a moment, "Benedictum Nomen Sanctum eius." He lowers his hands, "I swear before our Lord Jesu, I am a pious man. I do not think I could be here were it not so. I have tried to travel to Cornwall myself, and yet, my feet only take me home. It is a strange ways to travel in this life," or unlife, "And I do not understand it. But you have my word, I am a man of God alone."

Cyndeyrn checked his modest of 13, he rolled 2.

After the skepticism the others first turn on him, Cyndeyrn might be inclined to say something when the truth is revealed - but no! He is not such a braggart. Instead, he looks relieved to see that his cousin at least can see what he does (it serves as proof that he is not mad at the very least), and that the others come to revelation in their own time. The ghost itself confirms the event being some decade or more removed, which draws a nod from the large knight, and the further sacred oath seems to settle whatever hesitance, and indeed his wariness and protectiveness toward his sister. "It is a knight's duty to render aid to the needy and helpless, and you are no less deserving. I believe you, for if you are here before us, and not in heaven above or some other terrible place, it is God's will. I am Cyndeyrn ap Cyndfarch of Dinton and I shall pledge you my sword as well, if you would have it. The injustice done to you remains, and we are here to right it in your stead."

Emrys checked his Awareness of 10, he rolled 9.

With the swearing, Emrys takes another drink and stands, placing his hand to his sword and he draws the steel, a scrap heard in the scabbard before he lays it down on the table. "I pledged Sir. Dead or no, I keep my word." Emrys lowers his head. "I still will seek to free your son, if it gives you rest. I can only fathom thats what keeps you tied here, is that your son must know you or of you. A wrong must be right." and with that he looks to his cousin, Cynderyn. "Well said Coz. "

Kamron bows his head at the spirit's response, "Then, Sir Ifron, I say that the death of a father should not be the end of justice for a son. I will speak with Earl Robert to get his approval for this blessed task, and," he looks to his cousins, to Acwel, and to Emrys, "I think it safe to say that we will do our very utmost to see your son safely returned home." A hint of a smile touches his lips, and he looks over to Acwel, "Or should you prefer to speak with the Earl, Sir Acwel, since you have claimed primacy in this quest?"

Acwel checked his modest of 13, he rolled 16.
Acwel checked his proud of 7, he rolled 12.

"We can both report to him and explain the situation, Sir Kamron. I am not a selfish man," Acwel replies, offering a nod towards the shorter Dinton knight. "But Earl Robert must be told of this quest nevertheless. Perhaps he might even be able to assist us with better information on the whereabouts of Sir Ifron's son, so that we might see him restored to his inheritance."

There is a sense of relief which Lysanor feels when the surprise and initial anger of being 'tricked' begins to fade; when those around her begin to put their trust once more in their ghostly visitor. "If this will help to heal you and your family and finally set you to rest, Sir Ifron, you will gladly have the support of your fellow Christians, knights or otherwise." While she is still a little shaken by this revelation, though confused as to why she was having a difficult time seeing what the others now do, she tries to sound confident in her tone when she speaks.

"Ah, yes, the Lord has led me to the answer I have sought these past 16 years," agrees Sir Ifron, moving to stand and take his cup. Smile there, one hand on that round belly of his just the same. "Then a final toast my friends, that there is success this day forward to you and your ilk. I was uncertain it would come this way, I have enjoyed the feast, the libations. The company most of all. A good hearth and a good story are all it takes to warm the soul of a man, no matter his state of livelihood. I shall prayer that all is well as you seek this audience with your liege." He'll lift his cup, take another drink. Then see about leaving. He'll wait for any who have words, but turn and slowly move away, disappearing more than moving away when it comes to it.

Kamron slips the cross back over his head and under his tunics, nodding to Acwel with a smile and a chuckle, "That sounds an admirable idea, Sir Acwel." When Sir Ifron offers up one more toast, Kamron takes up his cup once more, raising it high and taking a sip, "To justice done."

"Aye Justice." Echoes Emrys before he laughs. "I outdrank a Ghost."

"Can ghosts even become inebriated?" Cyndeyrn has to wonder, although it may be as much for curiosity's sake as for actually making light of Emrys' boast. Really, he was speaking true when he said he has little clue about such things earlier, and even still looks somewhat baffled as the spirit fades, even processing what he has just seen! "I must admit, coming here, such a sight was the last I expected to be greeted by. The man had sat speaking with all of you normally for a time?"

Edwyn has been here the whole time quiet and reflective. When the ghost was revealed he looked utterly shocked but he also put in his offer to help. Now he sits quietly thinking over all that has happened. The question of ghosts being inebriated draws him from his thoughts and he shakes his head lightly. "I do not think so…but I could be wrong. I am no expert on ghosts."

Lysanor leads her brother to their table now, once the spirit had vanished. "Yes. First he told us of a glorious tale about the Saxon army fleeing a church or other, empty-handed. And then there was mention of his son. Now I don't know the details other than what he has told us, but he gave us a crest, one which I remembered seeing in one of the many texts which I had read." She takes a much needed sip of her wine once the final toast is made. "His son may be in the hands of Sir Branock de Stoke Cannon, as I had mentioned before. A Cornish name. He is a vassal of Exeter. Now, I am not certain how much of this information is relevant, but he did mention having finally found the answers which he sought for the past 16 years." Placing her cup down, she looks to the others, a thoughtful expression on her face, "I just hope that his son fares well, having lived his life in the hands of his enemy."

Kamron shrugs helplessly, "He was here when I came in from the chapel." Shaking his head in wonder, he slowly sits down, adjusting the trenchers, platters, and cups before him that were disturbed by his sudden rise. "That was…" He looks for the right word, shaking his head, "Miraculous?" Nodding to Lysanor, he adds, "And that he has not grown to accustomed to life with his kidnappers. It would be unfortunate if he had no interest in leaving."

"It is a sad tale, but there has to be a glimmer of memory of his father and his kidnapping by the Cornish." Acwel sips from his wine, apparently thoughtful over this rather strange turn of events. "Nevertheless, it is imperative we go there and try to convince the young man to come with us, so that his father's memory might be satisfied and his heir becomes the new lord of their ancestral lands."

"I hope the young man did not suffer too badly after he was taken…but then if he has grown used to his captors then he may be hard to convince. Still we have to try." Edwyn's tone is calm yet determined. He looks the the others with a steady gaze. "I would like to accompany your group on this quest as well if you will have me?"

Listening to Lysanor recall the general details, Cyndeyrn finally seems to have the mind to take a seat, having been up and quite tense almost since his arrival given the strange sight that greeted him. "Hearing him say that the son was taken as his own, I do fear that," he will agree with Kamron. "It is a strange thing, but a man lacking natural heirs or under whatever odd delusion or madness… if he did raise the boy as his own child, then there is every chance that he would love his father as any son might. Moreover, if we were to tell him the tale now of how we came to find him…" Yes, there is that. "…we will almost surely sound like madmen or at best, liars of poor skill, coming with such an odd tale. It would be good if we might find some proof of his heritage, but I am unsure where such might be sought let alone found. Maybe some record might recall it," he will look to his sister as he says this, "or that something might be found, in the real father's home or even in the false one."

Kamron nods to Cyndeyrn, "Some proof would be excellent, perhaps a surviving relative? Did Sir Ifron mention his wife? Although it may be that whomever rules Arnsford has no wish to see Sir Ifron's scion returned either." Grinning a little ruefully, he shakes his head, gathering up the pastry that Lysanor gave up on previously and nibbling on one corner. Once he swallows, he adds, "This could be a rather ticklish quest, but unless Sir Acwel here says otherwise, I think we would be glad to have your assistance."

"Lady Lysanor is very knowledgeable and has no equal when it comes to recognizing heritages. I welcome her to our fold, with the provision that someone's squire stays back with her at all times should we find adverse… conditions at the roads. I do not want to see her beauty taken away from us," Acwel flashes the auburn-haired emerald of Dinton a bright smile. "So her protection must be foremost for us, as we are trained knights, and she is not."

Well, just as Kamron takes her abandoned pastry, Lysanor was thinking of nibbling on it! Not that there aren't any more treats to go around for this is a feast after all. "I will see about looking the information up, though perhaps your sister would have access to better records at Sarum castle, Sir Acwel?" At the gentle compliments given her by the Woodford knight and Lord, the young woman shakes her head with a laugh, "Perhaps, just perhaps, that the lessons which women are taught truly are useful in the grand scheme of things." Looking to the others now, she ponders aloud, "Once more, I am uncertain if I will help or hinder things if I went along with everyone." There is then a pause and her eyes meet with Edwyn's once more as they had in the morning, "Sir Edwyn de Burcombe, though our families may not see eye to eye, I know that you are a good Christian knight and this is a cause worthy for any good Christian to fight for."

Edwyn's eyes meet with the lady's and then he inclines his head politely to Lysanor. His expression is one of gratefulness and modesty. "It is true, I chose to follow a different path than those in my family. I will lend whatever help I can and I thank you for accepting me despite our families differences." He smiles warmly to her as he lifts his head once more meeting her gaze. "If you chose to go with us Lady Lysanor I am certain we will be able to keep you safe. I can say with complete honesty that I will be looking out for you if you chose to come."

Cyndeyrn raises a bit of an 'ahem' to point out, "My sister's involvement will also depend on our father's agreement, or failing that, my own." Let's not forget who is in charge of her until she has a husband! "But it does sound that her aid has already been invaluable, and moreover if there is to be whatever investigation of his lineage, or more polite inquiries at either manor, I think she would be of great use and would not object, so long as she is well protected, likely by myself, our cousin here, or preferably the both of us." Ahem. "But yes, Sir Acwel, I would think your sister's access to the Earl's records might be of help, although if these things transpired outside of his domain, his own information may be limited. It seems that there will be much involved in sorting this out, lest either manor be roused to arms over the whole thing."

"I will ask Seren to assist us at this task, then. I might even ask her to accompany us should we need a scribe for some official purposes, seeing as we might have to be looking into more than one avenue of approach to this problem we have pledged to solve." Acwel agrees, nodding once to Lysanor and Cyndeyrn, apparently amenable to the idea, or at least, not finding it objectionable.

Kamron chuckles softly at Acwel's words, "Newt," that would be his very new squire, a de Newton, "already has practice guarding my dear cousin in situations that may be dangerous, provided that Uncle Cynfarch agrees. I'm sure that between all of us we can manage to keep her safe." Edwyn's introduction by Lysanor has his shoulders tensing up at the name of the man's family, but he makes the attempt to be polite none-the-less, "Sir Kamron de Dinton." And then he works on that pastry again, chewing and swallowing before he nods to Acwel, "Two people actually capable of diplomacy would undoubtedly be a wonderful idea, Sir Acwel."

When Cyndeyrn brings up the fact that it is up to her father and then him whether Lysanor is allowed on this mission, the young woman relents. She isn't about to fight against the word of her brother nor does she know how she would help the group rather than hinder them. "Of course, dearest brother. I am sure that everyone here knew to ask the permission of our Lord Father first and foremost rather than assuming that I would go along." She then nods quickly in Acwel's direction when he agrees to allow his own sister to help, "I do not believe that the untrained in combat should often go on what could possibly be a harrowing mission, but there are times when other skills are necessary. Of course, I will bring my medical supplies and yes, there will be a touchy matter as Exeter is out of our jurisdiction, of sorts. Here is hoping that things do not escalate so high that our visit leads to war."

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