(514-06-06) Buckholt Battle
Summary: Saxons raid Buckholt and knights on patrol help defend!
Date: 06*06*514
Related: None Yet
iwan isyld quillian caerdin caerwyn eirian morwenna 


The last few weeks of June, with the approach of summer, days grow warmer, the fields and forests are green. Its a clear morning, filled with a fine mist that rises off the fields, touching the air over the Salisbury plains with a golden blanket as the sun reflects off those drops in the air. A haze from here to the horizon even, evening bugs slowly tucking away into the shadows of trees and buildings. Where one walks over green, feet are covered with that dew as the sun has yet to touch those places.
It is in this time of dawn that bells ring from the manor of Buckholt. Far to the east of Sarum itself, on the border of Hampshire, a few leagues shy of the border keep at Du Plain. It is out of place, and strikes curiosity at any patrols. One having set off from Du Plain after staying the night, making rounds along the border for Earl Robert, they would be close to investigate this matter. However the circumstance, once the road is taken in the direction of Buckholt, it will be quickly noticed that the manor is being raided currently by a group of Saxons. The javelins, great axes and unkempt appearance quickly gives it away that they are indeed that enemy, here in the borders once more. It had been nearly a year since the last raid and this one seems to involve a group of Saxons, some seem monstrously large even as they make waste to the manor. Some of the sons of the house seem to have made a stand, but have been taken to the central yard of the manor itself and have been put to the axe as the invaders now try to ransack for valuables.

Dawn throws its golden bars across a drab sight, one deliberately selected to fade into the luminous green countryside of Salisbury. Astride a spirited bay, Eirian's long cloak gives little impression to her capability or lack thereof. Bow and quiver go with her, and the low hood over her face conceals her in shadow so much like her Burcombe forefathers who have their nasty tendency of appearing out of the dark, faces and arms black, ready to strike and vanish unseen. She rides in a jagged line behind Caerwyn, her elder cousin leading the way and acting as a shield with several hundred pounds of horse flesh in the way. The pace veers on and off the road towards Buckholt, miring any overt attempts to track her and giving an opportunity to look for trouble on the fringes of the landscape, over fence rails and in ditches. Her position gives her a fine position to determine the state of the manor's outer defenses and men folk standing against the Saxons. "The battle turns against us," she murmurs in a low tone, "we regroup back towards that outcropping on the downs at dusk, or make for Du Plain?" Simple plans are woven thus, the mental cartography for poor, raided Buckholt. Her thumb runs over the length of the reins, a wordless invocation to the gods. Christians have their crosses, she has the hand sign to invoke Mother Danu.

Iwan is part of that patrol coming out of Du Plain and riding west to return to Sarum once more. His journey longer, once he finishes garrison with Sarum, he goes onto Wilton where he is part of Lord Knight Earc's household. Still the morning was off to a good start. Horse ready, squire holding spare equipment. Feeling confident in the patrol, he had his lance with him and hefted the tip high, a pinnion of Sarum waiving gold and azure in the wind of the dawn. A slight flap at least, not gusty enough to make if flap loudly by any means. He is near Islyd in the group. "No rain, perahsp this is a wasted day?" A grin, not quite a smirk, as if he wants to be humorous but doesn't think he is that funny so smirks to downplay the attempt.
When the bells ring he looks to the others and will nod to any that looks his way. Should any share that look, he spurs his horse to ride quickly with them to the manor, they are on duty, those with Isyld and Iwan, they must see to the matter of course.

Success
Caerdin checked his Just of 16, he rolled 7.

Already on patrol with Iwan, Isyld gives him a brief flash of a smile, "I am sure you will not be forgetting Beltaine for some time to come, Sir Iwan." There's more orneriness to her smile than her usual mischievous one. Her brow lifts, "No rain, perhaps it is a wasted day after all." Simultaneously, she hears the bells and stiffens for only a moment before tightening her hold on the reins and riding hard beside her counterpart. The speaking ceases for now but her weapons are secure with her as she spurs her horse faster.

With the other outriders of the patrol is a man in the darkened livery of Sarum's garrison, chiefly one of the knights associated with Robert's Household. His only deviation from rough uniformity would be the Blackfish emblazoned on his chest. Sir Quillian is easy to note even as he brings to bear alongside Iwan and Isyld. A soft tching to words spoke, Quill doesnt speak even as the pealing of the bells catches his. ears. "Lose your swords, Nay tongues." he chides the other knights. Readying his steel, he spurrs to follow after Isyld with a barked "Hyah!"

Sir Caerdin de Broughton rides along with the other knights though he mostly keeps to himself, being rather contemplative of some matters. This doesn't mean that he's not keeping an eye out though, and from time to time he leans forward slightly and gives his mount a loving little caress. His stallion had been good to him the last couple of years and it was always important to remember such things.

Hearing the bells toll? Well that gives him some pause and he slows his horse. They had already passed where Manor Broughton was. At least he thought so. Manor Buckholt then?

His gaze turns sharply towards Eirian and he hisses out. "Turn back? I think not. There may be innocent people we can save, and if there are not, than we shall be the arbiters of justice on those who would dare to commit such deeds." He may also be a little more emotional since this is closer to his home than if this was happening on the other side of Sarum.

It is mostly bad luck and worse luck that the Burcombe party finds themselves in the vicinity of Buckholt and Du Plain. It's practically not even civilization any more, this far out, but Earl Robert's anointed diplomatic emissary - Lady Eirian de Burcombe, Pagan Priestess of the Smallfolk in All But Name, the Moon-whisperer, the Silver-Tongued Sylvan - had somehow convinced her Head of House to at least take a -look- at the houses out there. There were fine horses to be traded and to stud, and didn't Caerwyn want to expand his meager kennel (Old Faryn, the octogenarian bloodhound, had passed away in the summer heat just a week ago, the last remnants of a previously legendary Burcombe hound pack)? Finally, after much badgering and even more intent staring - slightly creepy - Caerwyn decided to go with the retinue to perhaps broach relations with these fine peoples and their horses.

When it quickly becomes clear that Buckholt is being raided up the wazoo, Caerwyn glances at his train. He had seen fit to walk part of the way, leaving his charger fresh. His usual charger, two rouncies that usually seated himself and his straw-haired and gangly-armed squire, Alecwyn, along with a sad-looking sumpter horse carrying gifts of exchange. Of armament: an array of iron-tipped battle lances in varying condition, his usual sword of fine iron, and one lady cousin-diplomat armed with a bow and a lot more bravery than skill. Caerwyn, of course, is no valorous knight of fame. Rather, he'd rather be praised for intelligence than his valor anyways. He starts to agree: "We should regroup. Alecwyn, lance?" He fits his conical helmet on and holds out a hand for lance. Already mounted on his charger, he glances down at his squire. "… I may ask you to ride fast for Du Plain. You are the fastest here."

Morwenna rides in the company of the other knights who have been out on patrol for the Earl, her once-removed overlord. As ever, the woman is a sight upon her white stallion, a tall beauty who wears rough furs over her chain, albeit more for decoration now than warmth as the summer months draw near. Although the Burcombes are familiar, she rides near Iwan (although not so near as to get between him and Isyld!), the pair of Wilton knights no doubt frequent enough companions on many patrols tedious and otherwise. While this at first seems as though it will fall in the former category, the ringing bells prove the day may be more interesting. "Trouble ahead," she murmurs without excessive emotion, though her eyes do narrow at the sight. She hefts her heavy spear now, and checks that her shield - bearing her simple personal device of a Unicorn on a green field - is secure on her arm.

Success
Caerwyn checked his valorous of 15, he rolled 1.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Awareness for Saxon Group at 15, it rolled 19.

And when the bloody Sarum knight -bumrushes- on his horse into the fray (Caerwyn has half a mind to point out that this is the reason why Sir Quillian is missing a finger), Caerwyn gestures at Alecwyn. "Go!" And with that, he follows (at a respectable distance behind Sir Quillian, for there's something to be said about large knights being good arrow cover) in a daring charge, lance and shield readied.

The Saxons continue to loot the buildings of the manor proper itself. As the group nears to a respectable distance, their horses tossing dirt behind them, They will notice some dozen figures moving between the buildings. Going into a building, coming out to dump metal items found into a pile of loot in the middle. A good six of them appear as regular saxons, axes in hand, rounded shields and all. Two though appear to be large fellows, hulking the others by a good foot each, no shield at all, but their axes seem to take two hands to heft. As well, another three or so are smaller in a way, but hold javelins, good four or five each, laying near the loot pile or stacked against buildings as they plunder.
(Awareness was to see if they throw javelins before the group nears …. folks are close, they can pose making attacks against chosen foes, lets resolve one at a time each round so I don't get confused).

Wisdom speaks to holding a smart pace with Caerwyn as he launches himself off at a distance. She at least comports herself on the bay well, touching her heels to the mare's flanks and breaking into a canter over the course of a short distance. She leans forward and gives the horse her head to follow after the war horses, though at a distance to keep from being nipped or aggressively checked. They're bred for war, not diplomats concealed in a dark shroud of green and mottled grey suited for slipping into the woodlands and fields. The horse will be slowed rapidly thereafter once she closes the distance, though she's not about to hurl a javelin at someone. Arrows are another matter, as it happens, though the Burcombe as an Amazon or a Mongol horse woman might be inconsistent with even that dread house's reputation.

With his horse bearing down on the scene unfolded, Quillian breaks off of Isyld's flank and presses his charger down amongst the saxons with their shields hoping to scatter them. As it is he swings for one of those poor bastards who he happens to engage, Shield and all. Hopefully this will create an opening for others to break in as well.

Success
Quillian checked his Sword of 15, he rolled 6.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Saxon Axe vs Qullion at 9, it rolled 19.
Quillian rolls 5d6 and gets (3 2 3 2 2) for a total of: (12)
Success
Caerwyn checked his Hate for Saxons of 13, he rolled 4.
Success
Morwenna checked her hate for saxons of 15, she rolled 9.

Caerdin isn't going to stand around and wait, especially after watching Quillian go forth. Taking in a breath, he kicks his mouth forward as he begins muttering a prayer. "Father above, please grant strength to my sword arm this day so that I might serve the cause of justice upon those that harm and pray upon the innocent of these lands. Shield me from harm so that I may continue to serve you for the days and years to come. Bless those around me so that they may serve you in their own ways." He grips his sword and shield and charges towards the line of Saxons, following close behind Quillian and to the side.

Success
You check your axe at 15, you rolled 9.
Success
Caerdin checked his Sword of 15, he rolled 9.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Saxon Axe vs Isyld at -5 (on foot) at 9, it rolled 18.
Success
Iwan makes a check for Saxon Axe vs Caerdin at -5 (on foot) at 9, it rolled 1.
Isyld rolls 4d6 and gets (5 5 1 4) for a total of: (15)
Isyld rolls 1d6 and gets (2) for a total of: (2)

Once their targets are in sight and it is clear that the group of knights are charging, Morwenna does not hesitate to join in. These foreigners are a scourge on her native britain, worthy of little more than disdain and violence. Still, the knights, like certain other great predators, are pack hunters, and so hers is not a wild, hasty ride into the enemy disregarding her allies, but a coordinated one, so that a wall of horses and spear-tips approaches them as one. Her great bladed spear is held forward as she rides, while her hair streams out the back of her helmet. And despite her size, she gladly picks a larger saxon, intent on doing grave harm, swiftly!

Success
Morwenna checked her lance of 15, she rolled 2.

Using the heft Quillian as cover and a distraction, Caerwyn breaks off on his charger from behind him and bears down on the single largest target he can find - it happens to be one of the enormous fellows (a foot taller than the other Saxons - they must feed him nothing but hamhocks and Cymric babies) hefting a great axe in his arms. In his charcoal-dusted chainmail, he isn't the first target to be seen - and luckily, none of these Saxons carry the great-spears famous for unhorsing a knight from his perch high up. Instead, he couches his iron-tipped lance and readies himself for the impact - a lance might be a lance, but a giant Saxon is a giant Saxon, and even if you're on a horse going however many miles an hour, the impact is still going to be quite shocking. There's a certain clarity to Caerwyn as his ancestral hate for these Saxons crystallizes - the moment before he breaks off from Quillian, he launches into a loud ululating cry, terrifying in its volume: "The Morrigan take you!"

Caerdin rolls 5d6 and gets (5 3 5 3 5) for a total of: (21)
Success
Iwan makes a check for Saxon Axe vs. Morwenna at -5 at 9, it rolled 1.
Morwenna rolls 6d6 and gets (6 3 4 6 6 6) for a total of: (31)
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Dex vs Caerdin at 8, it rolled 16.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Dex vs Isyld at 8, it rolled 9.
Success
Iwan makes a check for Dex vs Morwenna at 13, it rolled 12.
Success
Iwan makes a check for Axe vs Caerwyn at -5 at 14, it rolled 6.
Success
Caerwyn checked his lance of 15, he rolled 11.
Caerwyn rolls 12d6 and gets (1 1 5 6 2 4 6 5 4 4 2 2) for a total of: (42)

Iwan rides upon one of the normal shielded saxons as well, joining the main group as Caerwyn and Morwenna go for the really big ones.

Failed.
Iwan checked its lance of 15, it rolled 18.
Success
Iwan makes a check for Axe vs. Iwan at -5 at 9, he rolled 7.
Iwan rolls 6d6 and gets (3 3 2 5 1 1) for a total of: (15)
Iwan rolls 1d4 and gets (2) for a total of: (2)
Iwan rolls 1d4 and gets (1) for a total of: (1)
Success
Iwan makes a check for Javelin 1 vs Caerwyn at 13, he rolled 8.
Success
Iwan makes a check for Javelin 2 vs Caerwyn at 13, he rolled 2.
Success
Iwan makes a check for Javelin 1 vs Morwenna at 13, he rolled 2.
Iwan rolls 2d6 and gets (5 4) for a total of: (9)
Iwan rolls 2d6 and gets (6 3) for a total of: (9)
Iwan rolls 2d6 and gets (2 1) for a total of: (3)

Under no circumstances is Eirian admiring the Saxons in their various states of social and physical disrepair. They hold no fascination, these large men with their strange features and garbled language so harsh and rough on the ear. The design of their weapons is a passing interested in the face of their abuses. Cold-eyed, the young woman flicks her wrist and whispers an invocation: "Badb, fly in his wake, and cast your shadow upon their flesh. Cloud their eyes and chill their blood in the glory of your flight."

The knights ride upon the saxons. Quillian hits his doing damage but the saxon stays on his feat, returning his axe to the man. Isyld rides hard upon hers the same, and in a swipe of her swords, sends hte man ove rbackwards. Caerdin follows suit with a respectful hit that puts his man upon the grown. Iwan makes contact, avoiding an axe, his man remains standing.
The men with javelins throw at the two rides that attacked the big men, there javelins doing little but bounding off shield and armor of the knights. Caerwyn rides on a saxon with an impressive charge, sending him down and he does not stir in the least. Morwanna rides impressively with her lance for a solid hit, yet the big man takes that one hit from her and turns to face her, praying to Wotan for blood and glory,if one had to guess. The remaining two saxons give pause, and head to engage Caerwyn who seems to be the biggest threat at the moment.

Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Love of Wotan for the one on Morwenna at 16, he rolled 18.
Success
Morwenna checked her spear of 15, she rolled 13.
Success
Iwan makes a check for Berserker vs. Morwenna (19, +10 berserk, -10 for failed passion and on ground, just a plain old 19) at 19, he rolled 9.
Morwenna rolls 4d6 and gets (4 5 6 2) for a total of: (17)

Sir Caerdin watches his foe slump to the ground. Though the man is still awake, he is confident that he is not about to get up and start trying to kill people any time soon. No, there are other more immediate threats that must be dealt with, threats that it would be far more honorable to ride forward and deal with than a man on the ground. Riding forth, he heads in the direction of the Saxons who seem to want to try and pierce the Burcombe knight with their javelins. Unsurprising to find such dishonor coming from Saxons. Gripping his sword tighter, he charges at the first javelin thrower he can get to and arcs his blade towards the man.

Critical Fail!
Caerdin checked his Sword of 15, he rolled 20.
Critical Success!
Iwan makes a check for Javelin vs Caerdin at 13, he rolled 13.
Iwan rolls 4d6 and gets (1 5 1 4) for a total of: (11)

With a shrieking battle-cry, the maiden-warrioress Morwenna slams into the saxon brute, or rather, pierces into him with her spear tip, the sharp weapon burrying deep in the large warrior's flesh, though not so much so as some of the other riders beside her, leaving him standing. Still, she is a tenacious warrior, and with the scent of blood in the air, continues with her weapon, jabbing again now, not so strong without the power of her stallion behind it, but still enough to wound the man again. "Begone from Britain, filth!"

Caerdin rolls 10d6 and gets (3 2 3 3 3 2 2 3 1 4) for a total of: (26)
Success
Caerdin checked his Horsemanship of 12, he rolled 8.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Dex for Caerdin at 10, he rolled 15.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Dex for Morwenna at 13, he rolled 17.
Success
You check your axe at 15, you rolled 6.

There's a certain *UNHF* that Caerwyn hears as his iron-tipped lance sinks into flesh - was that a lung he just punctured? - and then the lance tip carves its way through the chest cavity and pops back out for a terrifying amount of damage. It knocks the ginormous fellow over - unconscious, apparently - before Caerwyn rides onwards in his single-minded charge. Right now, crazy javelins must be aimed at the Black Burcombe. Furiously carving a path across the open fields that make up most of Salisbury's lands, he guides his horse into a turn with just the use of his legs. It is here when two Saxon axemen - hairy, hard and angry - step forward to block his egress. He lifts his shield up and raises his lance to Saxon-eye level, largely to ward off hits and mostly to frighten them out of his way. Are these Saxons so brave (or mad) that they'd stand right in the way of a full charge, with its rider's lance still bloodied by the gore of their compatriot? Caerwyn's charger, a maddened black stallion frothing furiously at the nose and nicknamed 'The Blackheart', pants heavily as he brings his rider on an orbit straight out of the depths of the Wyrd. We shall see, then.

Success
Caerwyn makes a check for lance at 15, he rolled 5.
Success
Caerwyn makes a check for lance at 15, he rolled 12.
Success
Iwan makes a check for 1st Saxon vs Caerwyn at -5 at 9, he rolled 2.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for 2nd Saxon vs Caerwyn at -5 at 9, he rolled 10.
Success
Eirian checked her Hate for Saxons of 14, she rolled 13.
Success
Eirian checked her Bow of 10, she rolled 2.
Eirian rolls 3d6 and gets (4 6 6) for a total of: (16)
Success
Iwan makes a check for Dex for Javelin Hurler at 10, he rolled 6.
Success
You check your axe at 15, you rolled 9.
Success
Iwan makes a check for Javelin vs. Isyld at 13, he rolled 2.
Iwan rolls 2d6 and gets (3 4) for a total of: (7)
Isyld rolls 5d6 and gets (1 1 2 2 3) for a total of: (9)

The bow loosed from over Eirian's shoulder is brought to hand, a black-dappled arrow on a shaft of black poplar. Everything has its place in the dance of an archer astride a blood mare, orchestrated through the oiled motions of an oft-practiced dance. She slides the arrow to the curved shaft, the pointed black iron head tracing a moon arc up from the ground. An adjusted grip lifts the bow above the horse's proud neck and head, her torso twisted at a fifteen degree rotation to clear the animal and her cousin fighting in a flurry of jabs and blood. Back pulls her arm until the string goes perfectly taut, crisp angles dragged from the resistant cording. Two fingers hold the string flat until the Saxons are within range of the arrow, and the dulcet serenade of death sings in a high, wavering keen only to those in the high, arcing path drawn by the missile. She seems to shoot high, but it's a mistake to presume the arrow will fly past or strike into the soil as a diversion. If that tactic were her intent, she well exceeds the goal. Saxon flesh splits under the bite of good British iron, the rare hardwood punching eagerly past the bone and the nasty little barbs on the design intended to wound by yanking it out. Caerwyn surely knows the source of that black on black fletching, the spiral of pale grey string drinking up the leaking red lifeblood from the man. He might be stiff backed and still up but her quarry is well marked by the start of a pincushion for a patient lady.

Iwan releases lance for sword to attack the one that is closest to him. No hate for the man, so much as wanting to protect the manor that is here. "Die filth," he incurs, swinging to hopefully take off the man's head.

Success
Iwan checked his sword of 15, he rolled 6.
Success
Iwan makes a check for Axe vs Iwan at -5 at 9, he rolled 5.
Iwan rolls 5d6 and gets (5 1 1 1 1) for a total of: (9)

Quillian still engaged with his heathen bastard Brings his sword up to easily parry the axe that is given in response. Cursing within his helm, The Blackfish of Broughton keeps his horse as means to direct the traffic of battle, And brigs his sword back to slash at the man again, this time aiming for a killing blow, so as to find way to reengage others.

Success
Quillian checked his sword of 15, he rolled 14.
Success
Iwan makes a check for Axe vs Quillian at -5 at 9, he rolled 4.
Quillian rolls 5d6 and gets (3 2 5 5 5) for a total of: (20)
Critical Fail!
Iwan makes a check for Dex for Saxon vs Quillion at 8, he rolled 20.

Charging into the fray, towards the javelin throwers, Isyld hefts her axe, only swinging when she gets near enough to try and fell the Saxon.

Iwan rolls 1d10 and gets (9) for a total of: (9)
Success
Iwan makes a check for Javelin vs Iwan at 13, he rolled 12.
Iwan rolls 2d6 and gets (2 1) for a total of: (3)

Caerdin continues to roll around the field, moving for a Javelineer as the axemen he hit is toppled. A solid swing again and his target falls over, rolling to get up and attack again at some point when he can get up. Not before the man has thrown a javelin at the mounted knight, leaving it to stick to the horse he sits upon. Morwenna faces the giant still, she swings and hits him solidly withher spear, sending him sprawling the same. He falls over but is breathing and ready to get up. Eirian from where she is knocks an arrow, gives a silent prayer of hate to the saxons and sends it flying to hit one of the men with javelins. As Isyld heads for a Javelin Hurler, he two launches a counter attack, sending it agains the horse as well before she hits him with her axe. He remains standing. Iwan continues to pluck away at the one before him. Quillion matches sword to axe as well, swinging with enough force to knock his over and send him to the ground. The last Javelin Hurler throws a javelin at Iwan for the moment.
As the battle rages, smoke arises from one of the manor buildings, a fire set in there by the Saxons before the arrival of the knights.

Success
Caerdin checked his Sword of 15, he rolled 4.
Success
Iwan makes a check for Javelin vs Caerdin at 13, he rolled 4.
Iwan rolls 2d6 and gets (1 4) for a total of: (5)
Failed.
Caerdin checked his Horsemanship of 12, he rolled 14.
Caerdin rolls 5d6 and gets (6 1 3 3 3) for a total of: (16)
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Dex vs Caerdin at 10, he rolled 18.

Having braved the axes of not one, but -two- Saxon raiders, Caerwyn rides through, breaking the line and once more, on the Blackheart, he cuts a clean figure atop his black charger, the stallion pumping its legs furiously, as it snorts frothily into the air. Cutting back around, the Black Burcombe lets out another warcry - "On, Donas, on!" - an urging to his horse, apparently, before roaring out with a shrill voice lost to the exhilaration of the moment and the rush of the hot air in his face as he blunders along beautifully. Shield readied once more, he lifts his lance up briefly, before couching it against his shield. The tip, just narrowly over his horse's ear, urges Donas - a skittish stallion who bears ill will to all riders (even Caerwyn) - to charge even faster, thundering down on the pair of javeliners. One of them - the less hurt one - probably turns to meet his fate bearing down on him: half a ton of horsemeat with rider and pointy stick, clad in blackened Burcombe chainmail.

Having braved the axes of not one, but -two- Saxon raiders, Caerwyn rides through, breaking the line and once more, on the Blackheart, he cuts a clean figure atop his black charger, the stallion pumping its legs furiously, as it snorts frothily into the air. Cutting back around, the Black Burcombe lets out another warcry - "On, Donas, on!" - an urging to his horse, apparently, before roaring out with a shrill voice lost to the exhilaration of the moment and the rush of the hot air in his face as he blunders along beautifully. Shield readied once more, he lifts his lance up briefly, before couching it against his shield. The tip, just narrowly over his horse's ear, urges Donas - a skittish stallion who bears ill will to all riders (even Caerwyn) - to charge even faster, thundering down on the remaining axemen. One of them - the least hurt one - probably turns to meet his fate bearing down on him: half a ton of horsemeat with rider and pointy stick, clad in blackened Burcombe chainmail.

Success
Caerwyn checked his lance of 15, he rolled 6.
Caerwyn rolls 6d6 and gets (6 4 2 2 2 2) for a total of: (18)
Success
Iwan makes a check for Axe Vs. Caerwyn at -5 at 9, he rolled 7.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Dex vs Caerwyn at 8, he rolled 15.

Caerdin's expression remains grim as he puts his second Saxon onto the ground. "Stay down, you dog. You shall have the justice that you are due soon enough." Kicking his horse into motion, he rides past Isyld, who seems to be handling her Saxon skillfully enough, and then he is engaging the last of the javelin tossers. His sword comes up and down and delivers a strike that drops the man, but not before his foe can put another javelin into his trusty steed. He sighs. He would have to give strong considerations to dismounting or let this beast give it's life doing God's work. A hard choice.

Isyld is engaged in with her javelin wielding Saxon. A raid on a manor was a big deal to her, there were women and children in there! With a growl of frustration, for her swing being too light to take the man down, she puts more weight behind it, trying to damage him enough - or kill him - so he's no longer a threat.

Success
You check your axe at 15, you rolled 14.
Critical Success!
Iwan makes a check for Axe vs Isyld (he draws to swing) at -5 at 9, he rolled 9.
Iwan rolls 8d6 and gets (6 3 4 2 2 6 2 5) for a total of: (30)
Failed.
Caerwyn checked his valor of , he rolled 4.
Success
Caerwyn checked his valorous of 15, he rolled 14.
Isyld rolls 1d6 and gets (1) for a total of: (1)

Iwan is left to slowly chip away at the saxon by him. Wanting to run to Isyld but dealing with the saxon before him. Another has come to join cause with him, leaving Iwan to divied his attention between the two hear, he lets one swing full force at him, so he can send all of his love to the one he's arleady been hitting.

Success
Iwan checked his sword of 15, he rolled 6.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Axe 1 vs Iwan at -5 at 9, he rolled 19.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Axe 2 vs Iwan at -5 at 9, he rolled 10.
Iwan rolls 5d6 and gets (3 5 5 5 4) for a total of: (22)

Seeing Isyld go down, Iwan shouts, "No!!! Bastards!!!" And swings a might blow at the head of that one, he has little chance and falls over, sans heartbeat. Luckily for Iwan the second one has missed him but he remains engaged and cannot get to Isyld himself.

Success
Morwenna checked her spear of 15, she rolled 11.
Success
Iwan makes a check for Berserk vs Morwenna (19 total, with modifiers) at 19, he rolled 9.
Morwenna rolls 4d6 and gets (4 1 1 4) for a total of: (10)

The javelin wielding Saxon manages to get past Isyld's guard. There's a moment of a shocked look on her face even as she falls off the horse almost as if in slow motion, to land with a thunk on the ground, her axe beside her. The gaping wound on her body, through her armor, is enough so her hands find it and by sheer force of will, she remains conscious, not making a sound, but expecting the death blow from the Saxon at any moment.

Having dismounted to kill his dying bastard, Quillian raises his sword, but the sound of knight to ground causes the Blackfish to pause, spying the lady knight de Chalke on the ground and non too far from the action, Quillian quickly turns heel. Seething with righteous anger the knight charges headlong at the Saxon dog, before he can kill a downed comrade in arms.

Success
Quillian checked his Sword of 15, he rolled 7.
Isyld rolls 1d6 and gets (4) for a total of: (4)
Quillian rolls 5d6 and gets (6 1 4 5 4) for a total of: (20)
Failed.
Caerwyn checked his merciful of 10, he rolled 17.
Failed.
Caerwyn checked his cruel of 10, he rolled 18.

Caerdin moves his horse about the outskirts of the skirmish, along with Islyd. They harry the javelin throwers. Caerdin knocked one over perviously and turns around to find another, sending him to the ground as well. Caerwyn rounds about for another charge of his lance, driving into one of the remaining men with an axe, sending him down, he can do little but take the blow of the lance that sends him to his feet. The one fighting Isyld swings a mighty axe and the sound is heard as it sends her realing. Following suit, Iwan drops the one before him, worse than his patrol companion, he will not be getting up. Morwenna presses on the big man, its an even fight as far as all can tell, she manages another forceful swing of her dropping the big man. In a moment of the confusion, Quillian came down to finish the saxon he just dropped prior, but seeing the fate of Isyld, he moves to the man there and swings his sword, sending him to the cround. He is unconscious as well.

The fire grow in the manor. Currently there is one standing javelineer, one trying to get up near Caerdin. There are 5 Axemen, two on the ground, leaving three up. Two are going for Iwan this turn, one for Caerwyn.

The battle-maiden Morwenna continues her clash with the brutish saxon berserker, her initial lance-stroke not so telling as the Burcombe's and now finding herself in a battle for her life! She may well have underestimated the strength of the man, the… brute physicality of the saxon breed, as even so soundly skewered on the first ride, he fights on with full strength! The second thrust of her spear still leaves him standing, and while she does not show it, there is fear in the young woman now, clasping at her heart, which beats like a heavy drum inside her breast. She has fought before but… not like this, not a foe like this. Only her high place atop her stallion holds her above the brutal vengeance of his axe, until she at last plants the spear in him one last time, not deep, but deep enough, it seems, for all those wounds to overcome his mad resilience and leave him crumpled at the hooves of her proud steed. Just as quickly, she flicks her glance aside, scanning the field to ascertain the wellness of the pack. That is, the other Salisbury knights.

Failed.
Caerdin checked his Merciful of 10, he rolled 14.
Critical Success!
Caerdin checked his Cruel of 10, he rolled 10.
Success
Caerdin checked his Sword of 15, he rolled 6.
Caerdin rolls 5d6 and gets (3 5 3 1 2) for a total of: (14)
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Axe of Javelin guy vs. Caerdin (-5 for on ground) at 9, he rolled 19.

Caerdin gives his mount one gentle touch on his neck, hoping it calms the animal as he slips out of the saddle and stares down at one of two Saxon's who have stuck a javelin into the poor animal. Pointing his sword at the man, he says, "My God is merciful and kind. I would ask you to embrace him and to ask for forgiveness, because I have no forgiveness to give. Your crimes here must be punished and punished they shall be, when you are facing the flames of eternal damnation." He then takes a moment to kindly spit in the Saxon's face while running his blade across the man's abdomen.

After tagging his enemy in the shoulder with a bracing blow, Caerwyn leisurely canters to the other end of the field before turning his horse around. The one Saxon he knocked down is still alive, it appears, having stood after being knocked down. He nudges his black stallion, Donas, into a stop and then waves at his cousin Eirian. "The fires are burning down the manor," he shouts to his cousin Eirian. A pause. No doubt, his squire, Alecwyn, has ridden straight for the outpost - for that matter, it will take a goodly amount of time before the firefighting squad will get here to alleviate the damage. "No horses or dogs to trade," Caerwyn grumbles to himself, before he glances at the axeman advancing at him. "On, Donas," he whispers into the fiery stallion's ear, who skittishly erupts from standstill into a bolting gallop.

And with that, Caerwyn turns for his third charge of the day - Morrigan help him, Fates and Furies be with him. He did not hold to the Old Gods as closely as his siblings, but there was something to be said about putting the fear of the Morrigan in the hearts of mortals - something poetic, really. Will the Saxon lose his will upon this black storm of both black-armored rider, and black-colored stallion, bearing down on him?

On a side note, Caerwyn tends to be selfish in terms of selecting targets. There's this one axe guy with full health, free to do as he pleases - and then two guys on Iwan. Iwan be damned, though, it's an easier ride down on this guy. And so, Caerwyn couches his lance and charges.

Success
Caerwyn checked his lance of 15, he rolled 6.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Axe guy vs Caerwyn at -5 at 9, he rolled 14.
Caerwyn rolls 6d6 and gets (3 3 2 5 4 6) for a total of: (23)
Success
Iwan makes a check for Dex vs Caerwyn at 8, he rolled 7.
Failed.
Eirian checked her bow of 10, she rolled 12.
Eirian rolls 3d6 and gets (1 5 3) for a total of: (9)
Iwan rolls 1d6 and gets (2) for a total of: (2)

Iwan has two on him, he focuses fully on the one with the most damage that he can tell, letting the other have a clean swipe at him. He wants to kill one as faast as he can, one of their numbers has fallen and this has turned slightly grim for the moment.

Success
Iwan checked his sword of 15, he rolled 4.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Axe 1 vs Iwan -5 at 9, he rolled 15.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Axe 2 vs Iwan -5 at 9, he rolled 19.
Iwan rolls 5d6 and gets (3 4 5 4 4) for a total of: (20)

For the sake of expediency, whilst Caerwyn does his masterful dismemberment of humanity from across the sea, the dusky haired queen of night, at least for a knight, serves the same purpose and function. She sows death where she can and extends her cloak to the burned to shelter them, giving refuge from the flames. If nothing else, the young woman exceeds at organizing people by calling out to gather anything that might be used as a bucket. "Get everyone out, and take nothing! Your lives matter more than your wares, the Earl will protect you!" Well, hopefully he shall while she is invoking his generosity and his name, an urgent cry that friends have descended if the melee outside their gates were insufficient. Even the terrible war goddesses of the British people can be kind, loving and protective, as frightening as they are. She whirls to pull another arrow from the quiver, spying another unfriendly Saxon blundering into death. "Morrigan take you to Annwn, and Gwynn ap Nude give you the spoils worthy of your shade!" Which is to say, no hospitality at all as she looses an arrow through the firelight, smoke swirling around her in a phantasmal fugue. The shadows blend on her face and arms, turning her to a harrowing figure, emerging in and out of the smoke like a dancer trying to invoke the Wyrd for their sakes. And then she's back to encourage the residents of the manor to take flight and regroup elsewhere, where they might pour water in buckets or helmets or any tool at hand worthy of the term container to quench the flames. Morrigan feasts, Brigid dances, and they all resound in the cries of death and war.

Self preservation is real. Isyld sees Quillian move in and even though she casts a grateful look to him, she's almost certain he can't see it. Rolling over a couple of times, she tries to get herself out of harms reach from the one or two trying to kill her. It leaves her almost face to face with the Saxon that is near Caerdin. Finding the strength, she draws her dagger, intending to finish him off. If she was going to die, she's going to take some with her.

Success
Morwenna checked her lance of 15, she rolled 4.
Morwenna rolls 6d6 and gets (2 2 6 5 2 3) for a total of: (20)
Failed.
You check your dagger at 5, you rolled 16.

After that quick survey of the field, heart still racing from her terrifying match with the towering berserker, Morwenna is quick to stop the pair harassing Iwan, her Wiltonian comrade in arms! A little tug at one rein causes her stallion to turn, putting her in line with one of the men, and then a squeeze of her thighs prompts the majestic beast into action, stirring it to a quick charge even as she levels her spear, aiming the tip low for her grounded opponent. The battle cry, this time, comes nearly as she is upon them, too late for the man to even realize she is there nor turn to properly defend himself: he is skewered through the shoulder from behind and thrown several feet as well, landing in an unmoving pile, alive or dead, she cares little in the instant. "Strike true, man of Wilton!" she calls then from her high position, as Iwan has yet the other to dispatch!

Quillian having downed another Saxon bastard beats his sword against hist shield, turning the dead away, the Blackfish's focus is on the remainder alove who seems a little uncertain as to his prospects. Still as boldly as he rushed in before, and with immediate threat to Isyld taken, he moves sword ready to hack and cut this man down as well.

Success
Quillian checked his Sword of 15, he rolled 11.
Critical Success!
Iwan makes a check for Axe vs. Quillian at 14, he rolled 14.
Iwan rolls 8d6 and gets (1 6 3 6 4 4 4 5) for a total of: (33)
Isyld rolls 1d20 and gets (6) for a total of: (6)
Quillian rolls 1d20 and gets (13) for a total of: (13)

Perhaps with a show of bravery from his cousin, Caerwyn rides past and calls out once more to his cousin - the fires, the wells - some incoherent message of organizing an attempt to save what one can from the manor. This is a brutishly large party whose flailings have trashed this manor, and Caerwyn - ever the Worldly fellow - regards this as of utmost importance now that the Saxons seem mostly dispatched. Mostly. The numbers are still equal, but by the look of things, Earl Robert's knights have the advantage in equipment, technology, and organization. The equipment is important - the chainlinks woven finely together have warded off many javelins - proof against arms, really.

In the meantime, Caerwyn glances back at his cousin just a moment longer - the bloodlust will wear thin soon, and her inclinations towards hearth and home will no doubt send her to organize the townspeople to flee appropriately as peasants are wont to do.

In the meantime, a dust cloud kicks up in the distance - Alecwyn, Sir Caerwyn's squire, rides furiously in over the mild fields. He has alerted the garrison, but his first priority is to his knight - he rides first as the lone vanguard.

Caerwyn, however, chooses to tilt his horse slightly, bearing down on the Blackfish. The Black Burcombe is here to save the day! Perhaps this can be another Superfriends team-up. Though the Quillianmeister (the Quillfish?) had argued against Caerwyn, there's something to be said about a blood debt. And here he comes!

Success
Caerwyn checked his lance of 15, he rolled 2.

Caerdin dismounts to swing at the one he downed, not wanting any more to get back up. The man defends with axe and is wounded by the sword of Caerdin. Caerwyn rounds on on of the Axemen, still fresh and cleaves at the mans body, doing much damage yet he stands to face him with an axe. Eirian fires a bow and deals damage to the last standing Javelin thrower, he is barely standing and perhaps looking ready to run for the moment. Iwan stands with the two, swining hard at one, it splits his skin and he falls over, breathing but out of it. Isyld moves from her guy, who is out, to try and stab the one that Caerdin put down to hopefully end the fight quicker, even on the cusp as she bleeds, she tries to fight on. The man defends with his axe. Morwenna turns to charge one of the two that was with Iwan, hitting him square with the spear, he falls over and is unable to move for now. Quillian deals with the last standing Javelin hurler, who draws axe as he fights the knight, dealing a hefty blow.

Remaning: 3 Axe Saxons, one was on Caerwyn, the other two can go for Iwan and Morwenna. There are 2 javelin throwers left, one drew axe on Quillian, the other is knocked over but will get up this turn.

Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Axe vs Caerwyn at -5 at 9, he rolled 13.
Caerwyn rolls 6d6 and gets (1 3 3 2 4 5) for a total of: (18)
Quillian rolls 1d6 and gets (6) for a total of: (6)

Critical Fail!
Caerdin checked his Sword of 15, he rolled 20.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Axe (Javelin) guy vs Caerdin at -5 at 9, he rolled 10.
Caerdin rolls 10d6 and gets (2 1 2 4 3 1 5 3 5 4) for a total of: (30)

Iwan stays in the throng of axemen, and tries to cleave another, focusing fully on the one letting the other swipe at him.

Failed.
Iwan checked his sword of 15, he rolled 17.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Axe guy 1 on Iwan at -5 at 9, he rolled 13.
Failed.
Iwan makes a check for Axe guy 2 on Iwan at -5 at 9, he rolled 13.
Iwan rolls 5d6 and gets (4 1 6 5 6) for a total of: (22)
Failed.
Morwenna checked her spear of 15, she rolled 18.
Success
Iwan makes a check for Axe guy vs Morwenna at -5 at 9, he rolled 1.
Morwenna rolls 4d6 and gets (2 2 3 2) for a total of: (9)

Perhaps in the haze of battle, Caerdin missed the injured Isyld being so close nearby. He sees her try and stab the Saxon and he lets out a hiss. "Please, do not risk further injury to yourself, I shall see to your wound once I have given this heathen a chance to be judged by God." He stares into the Saxon's eyes as he lifts his sword. "Beg whichever heathen god you worship that they can keep you from true justice in the next life." Not wasting any more time or words, Caerdin drives the blade down into the man's heart, killing him. Placing a foot on the Saxon's chest, he pulls his sword back out and steps over to Isyld. "I shall stand here until this is over. No Saxon will further harm you this day."

Caerwyn and Ceardin kill the saxons by them, Iwan drops another. This leaves two left fighting. They have no fight left in them as the knights seem to have done quick work of them. If they can escape they will, unless they are run down by those who remain on horseback.
Iwan will not chase, but move instead to see after Isyld first, then Quillian.

Critical Success!
Caerwyn checked his lance of 15, he rolled 15.
Success
Morwenna checked her lance of 15, she rolled 14.
Caerwyn rolls 12d6 and gets (1 2 1 5 1 1 2 1 4 2 2 3) for a total of: (25)
Morwenna rolls 12d6 and gets (2 1 6 6 4 1 6 4 6 6 3 3) for a total of: (48)
Failed.
Eirian checked her firstaid of 10, she rolled 11.
Success
Caerdin checked his FirstAid of 10, he rolled 2.

The two turn and run, Morwenna and Caerwyn chase after and run down the remaining Saxons. Iwan doesn't follow, instead he goes to Isyld, as it seems Caerdin does the same. "What have they done Isyld," he says, breaching protocol and not calling her Sir in that moment. The fire forgotten, even Quillian is forgotten by the Knight of Wilton. He had turned to grin at Morwenna, "For Wilton," he had called as she tore off after one of the remaining saxons, but now a blur as he went to check on Isyld.

Another saxon joins the fray around her and Iwan, so there will be no more valiant charges for the moment, only more bloody melee. At least for the moment Morwenna remains safely above the fray upon her tall white steed, jabbing down at one of the men skirmishing there beneath her and her fellow knight of Wilton. If she wounds him, it is lightly only, but that is enough at least that he does not succeed in striking her in return. And this, it seems, is enough to show him that he will not win the day! The one already at her speartip turns and begins to flee. Truly, it seems almost preposterous! That the man should think himself able to flee her on her steed, her stallion, her glorious beast of war. At least, in his last moment, he should face death head on, not shame himself. But he runs, and she will ride him down without a shred of mercy, not for a foreign invader, a defiler upon her native soil. She rides him and skewers him fully through the back, broad speartip exploding through the other side just beneath the ribs in a fountain of terrible gore. Impaled, he lance -lifts- him and carries him a few feet even, before his weight pulls him back down, and Morwenna is halted and made to spend some moments yanking the weapon free. No doubt to her great annoyance.

Too weak to even follow through her attempt on taking out the Saxon, Isyld looks up through a pain induced haze at the man who stands over her. Friend or foe? He was stabbing the Saxon, friend. There is a very genuine relief as she looks up at him, "Thank you," but she gestures to Quillian, "Help him, please."

Caerwyn is not one to soothe and heal his fellow knights. Indeed, when Isyld and Quillian go down - but are hopefully alive due to the rest of the Saxons routing - he leisurely canters along on his horse, whistling a merry little tune, as he bears down on the remaining Saxon, fleeing Morrigan knows where. Brigid, the Fates, Lugh and his Strong Arm! Strike down this bastard who dares tread on Cymric land. It's almost sportlike, the way Caerwyn lightly angles his iron-tipped lance out to tag the Saxon in the back, who goes down like a sack of barley. And then he leisurely brings his horse around, not bothering to check if the man's dead. He -knows- already. Ambling back towards the party, he glances down at the unconscious Quillian and the gravely wounded Isyld. "Well, I haven't any idea of even your names but my sister, Morag, is a fine healer. There are none better. Let us bind these wounds and return?"

Quillian has been down since figjting the last man who tried to come in on the downed Southron knight. Blood shows where wound and axe lain him low. For now the Blackfish is in his own mind dead. Though no heaven sees he. Just darkness (He is not really dead.)

Easy for him to say. Caerwyn rode through a sea of axes and a rain of javelins and emerged unharmed.

Failed.
Caerdin checked his FirstAid of 10, he rolled 13.
Failed.
Eirian checked her firstaid of 10, she rolled 15.
Success
Caerdin rolls 1d6 and gets (2) for a total of: (2)

Caerdin stares at Isyld for a long, long moment. Yes, he knows that Quillian has been injured and Quillian is kin, but he was not a knight to turn away from an injured woman, be her a knight or not. "I shall check on him in but a moment. Allow me to at least bind your wounds for now.Let it not be said that Caerdin de Broughton turned his back on a lady in need." He flashes the woman a friendly enough smile and then kneels down to get set to bandaging her up, muttering a prayer under his breath as he does so.

Failed.
Iwan checked his awareness of 12, he rolled 18.

Iwan was there as well? Isyld gives both he and Caerdin an apologetic look, "I'm sorry. He came in to help but.." She looks towards Quillian, thinking he may be dead. She stops arguing, stops wasting time with it and succumbs to the aid Caerdin offers. A lopsided smile is given, but her eyes squint with pain. "Isyld de Chalke, Sir Caerdin."

Seeing the attempt made for Isyld to be healed, Iwan sees some bandages going on. Not noticing if anything has gone wrong in that attempt at least, he waits patiently. "She is a knight, above a lady, one who seeks glory in combat and not one to sit home and sew tapestries." Yes, curious, this carries on while it seems folks are waiting to help Sir Quillian. "Do not be sorry, but I am here, my confidant …." He lets them great of course. He ponders, "Is our friend here going to make it too?" Quillian that is, he is not trying first aid, he doesn't want to make anyone worse off.

"She is a lady knight, she is above us both." Caerdin says smoothly in response to Iwan's comment. His attention doesn't move from what he's doing, not until he is finished. "There, that should last until we are able to get further aid." He glances up at Iwan then, then over at Quillian. "He will be fine. He is my cousin. With help from above, he shall be defending the realm from Saxon heathens soon enough." Caerdin stands then, surveying the damage that has been down to Manor Buckholt, a frown creasing his features. He leaves Iwan and Isyld behind to go to his cousin then, his eyes taking in the damage that has been wrought here.

Once the fleeing man has met his bloody end and Morwenna has messily extracted her spear-tip from his back, the wild maiden will more slowly turn back 'round her steed and trot toward the group, although her eyes cast back and forth, trying to be sure of the condition of the remaining saxons. "Do any still live?" she wonders, just to make sure no detail, no -life-, is overlooked in that regard. Ignoring any bickering over the order of precedent for rendering healing aid, she instead looks to see if any of the manor residents might be about, making a slow search of the manor grounds from horseback.

Success
Caerwyn checked his stewardship of 12, he rolled 9.

If Morwenna looks, six still breathed, even if completely out of it, they could recover and get better and come back for revenge. Morwenna scures the saftey of the future of Salisbury by dispatching the enemy with some swift justice.

Dismounting near the injured men, Caerwyn glances down at Isyld and Quillian. "The reinforcements are coming from the outpost previous, but they won't be here in time to save the manor before it burns down completely. I will rally the townsmen and get them to fighting the fires that have sprung about." He looks up from the injured people. "Alecwyn?" His squire, soot-faced and straw-haired, a gangly youth of fourteen, pops up and says, "Yes, sir?" He gestures at the two downed knights. "Help get them to the Burcombe manor. In the meanwhile, I'll set about getting the fires contained, and perhaps take an accounting of any losses. And Alecwyn, where'd my cousin go? Find her, we need Morag's help."

Alecwyn, straw-haired, soot-stained and confused as all teenagers are, looks back at Caerwyn. Then he looks at Isyld. Then at the burning manor in the distance. "Uh, pardon, sir, which one first?"

"Get Eirian," Caerwyn says with a growl, before addressing the standing men, Iwan and Caerdin: "Are they secure? We need a wagon to bear them back to Sarum. If I can find a fast rider and a fresh horse to pass the message along, we should get there and my sister will be waiting."

Having slipped from her horse to conduct the last survey, now like some specter, or even some avatar of Morrigan herself, Morwenna slowly stalks the fields, from one fallen form to the next, from body to body. Each she identifies by dress or features, using her spear to nudge the ones she is not sure of. Those dead of the village she leaves be, and if any live, she might call it to the others. But they are not really the ones she seeks. No, like the carrion-crows of the goddess she now seems to emulate, she seeks the dying and dead of the enemy numbers, making sure each of the former is sent to join the latter in short time. Battle subsided, there is no more furious rage, but neither is there any scrap of hesitation or sympathy in her eyes. These people do not belong here in her homeland, and each is given a quick, sure jab of her sharp spearpoint to see that never do they walk it again. Eventually, when -all- are dead, she only then comes back to the group, checking on Iwan and Eirian in turn, although likely her journey ends with the second of these. "Is there anything I can do further?"

Wrath gives way to ruin, ruin to a tallying of silver lost, plate burnt, house harmed. Eirian is no scribe in profession, but persuasion, and she turns her head to the task of writing names of the dead, their benighted Saxon corpses, and the list of plunder. If someone is not bound to complain, and steals a dagger from a Saxon for use to make quick pens to go with her limited store. Her job is to witness, and later confer. Let death and life cavort, and her task be done as a silent fate. When the last is handled, man and dog named as found, she will return to them in a way showing her mettle as a cool eyed creature, all too fey. She might even be prone to smile, venturing towards Caerwyn. "They suffer. The Earl will have to know and if any are alive, their knowledge might be worth something. Where they put in, for one."

And to a too quick Morwenna: "We gather the worthy and fire the dead. No glory for them to Annwn. The Lord will give them no welcome at his table."

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