Taglio helps with the preparations and with the meal, gladly shares his wine and food. He see to the care of Beatrice and cleans his lantern ready for tomorrow's assault. "It is good to share this meal with you, mio amico. I was not sure if we would make it I must confess at times this dark day."
After dinner he brings out his lute, tunes it and absently strums for a while chords going nowhere. Then from a jumble of half melodies a steady rhythm begins to form and a lilting but steady tune emerges.
Raven hair, ruby lips, sparks fly from her finger tips, ever raised voices in the night, she's a restless spirit on an endless flight.
Oo oo witchey woman, see how high she flies (ayeayes) Oo oo witchey woman she's got the moon in her eyes (ayeayeayes).
With the chorus, Forte's eye perk up and glances over at Xania to see her reaction.
...and Ullar sees Forte looking up at Xania and starts to chuckle before he departs to his horse :-)).
Colorful magic in her eyes, not so her tongue it will cut you to size, don't mince words with ice and fire, she dance and never quench your desire.
Oo oo witchey woman, see how high she flies (ayeayes) Oo oo witchey woman she's got the moon in her eyes (ayeayeayes).
All the warriors in the south, would like to get her to shut her mouth, The chance of that is nearly zip, I think I'm in for another quip.
Oo oo witchey woman, see how high she flies (ayeayes) Oo oo witchey woman she's got the moon in her eyes (ayeayeayes).
As the first notes are sung, Rhune begins to hum counterpart, then by the second stanza is singing along with Tag, though she is singing in French.
"Oh that was very nice, Taglio. I have heard that song once before. You sing it very nicely," she says with a smile.
Xania listens to the song with evident enjoyment at first. Then she looks extremely uncomfortable. Finally, at the last verse, she waits politely for the song to be over. "That was lovely, Tag," she says, with no expression in her voice.
She stands and begins to walk away from the fire.
Forte shifts his eyes to view Dakath's reaction to Xania's exit. He stares at the thief, expectantly.
Dakath shakes his head as he gets up. He looks at Tag, "I must say you're a credit to your profession," he then turns and catches up with Xania.
Forte turns his gaze to the fire, silently laughing to himself. Eventually, he puts a hand over his eyes, still shaking slightly from the unheard laughter.
Dakath smiles at Xania as he catches up to her. He offers her his arm and wanders away from the rest of the group (away from the mounds).
Xania, hearing familiar footsteps, turns and buries her head against Dakath's shoulder, her slender frame shaking as she burrows into his arms.
Dakath totally taken aback by her actions, places his arms tentatively around her shoulders unsure what to do.
As the song finishes, Tag looks up a cheeky grin on his face. His face drops and he looks disappointed.
"Princess has left, Si," He scratches his head at Xania's reaction or lack there of. (not seeing her reaction with Dakath) "Perhaps she has a softer streak than I thought. Who can understand women? I hope I have not upset her, Si, I only meant it in jest. I guess we are all getting a little tired of this game."
Seeing Xania leave the fire, Rhune gets a worried expression on her face. She is about to go after when she notices Dakath already beginning to stand. So instead she leans back against Asif, enjoying the closeness. Looking up at him, "Perhaps we can could go for a walk also? Or perhaps we could just sit over there by ourselves for awhile," she whispers to him in a low voice, a mischievous look in her sparkling eyes and pointing to a large tree just at the edge of the camp in the opposite direction from the tombs...
Ullar, after he has listened to a couple of couplets of Tag's song, stands up and walks towards Zephyr.
As before, the warrior starts talking to his horse, while brushing it lightly.
"My, oh my.. if you only had a clue in what kind of band you have ended up. Don't you agree?" he says, looking Zephyr in the eyes.
The horse ignores him, and keeps on eating the grass and enjoying the brushing. Ullar just keeps on talking, as he has the tendency to do. (OOC: anyone remembering the beetles?)
"I like them, well...most of them. And I like the couples as well, but the bickering can't continue much longer. If it does, I think I'll suggest we split up. Don't you think that is a good idea?"
Again Zephyr continues with his eating, not giving any response to Ullar whatsoever.
"Hmm." the warrior ponders "...perhaps you are right, and perhaps do I need to think things through a bit more before I come up with suggestions. Thanks Zephyr! Thanks," says Ullar, ending the conversation by bringing his horse some water and hay.
Asif upon finishing his meal goes over to check his horse once again, and hears Ullar speaking to his horse. Moving quietly to Ullar's side he speaks.
"Ahhhhh be not embarrassed efendi... a man's horse is often the most true of friends. They are the greatest listeners. If one had half the wisdom of a horse the world would be a better place. Horses watch the world and listen to it breathing. Man is often too full of his own importance that he sees and hears nothing."
Asif pats Ullar on the shoulder in an comradely way.
"Time will tell efendi. Angry words can sometimes bring down empires, but adversity brings many together. Take not harsh words between us all, to heart. The gods put us together on this path for some purpose. We at the moment are just too blind to see it. Both Desert Wind and Zehphr probably think us stupid for not seeing what is obvious."
"Yeah...I think you are right. Zephyr likes Desert Wind I guess, for my horse was nervous when yours was in danger. If we all can get along like our horses, things will be fine."
"Oh...and what the heck...things will evolve the way they do. Rhune, you and me are the ones left from our first start. I wonder if all the other group-members are aware of the blue tube we have in our possession. Finding Stephen and opening the tube are the two things we need to get done, don't you agree?"
"Yes my friends I do recall that blue tube that was acquired. It fell from that speaker's hand at the meeting as the Bishop's men descended upon us. That days seems so long ago now. So much have I learnt since then, about your language and customs. Your language is not so much a mystery to me as it was then. I must confess much of that day was a blur for I had been but in Italy a week. A ship's officer had invited me to this meeting, Senor Diego. I was to meet him there, but I never did find him. Yes I think the tube may provide an answer to much of our quest. It is magical? Yes?"
"It certainly is," Ullar replies. "When Xania checked all our stuff for magicks, the tube was shining the brightest of all."
Ullar continues, "What do you think of our barbarian friend Rhees? He seems not to avoid conflict in any way. Did he speak to you as well about leadership?"
Ullar smiles at Asif, recognizing him as a true friend.
Asif answers, "I sense some wisdom in his heart, although like I, I sense some great feeling of loss. He is like a man adrift upon the sea trying to find land. He is alone amongst strangers. A man without direction often seeks someone who will show him the way. This worry about who is the leader of our band is a reflection of this. He is not a native of Italy as I understand. His people may be more used to the direction of great warrior chiefs. He is from the land of a people called the Celts. Where is this place do you know?"
Ullar shrugs. "I suppose it is somewhere in the north, but I don't know for sure. In the Arena I once fought together with a Celt. He was wearing some strange skirt and used a mighty battle-axe. The rumor went around that he was wearing nothing beneath the skirt...but I didn't check that," Ullar replies, with a huge smile on his face.
Approaching the two, Tag speaks, "Forgive me mio amico, but I could not help overhearing you. What is this about a blue tube and a speaker? I have not heard tell of how you all met. Perhaps I might recognize something about this tube no, might I have a look at it? Is it a scroll case?"
"It is not mine to offer, Efendi. You should ask Rhune for she is the one who picked it up upon that day of great bloodshed."
Going back to the earlier subject, Tag interjects, "Si, signore Rhees is strong willed no and so different to many of us. We do not mix well at times, like olive oil and water. All this quarreling is sapping the group's strength, no. We should be more like good wine and bread, each having our own tastes and fulfilling a need, but no good meal complete without the other! What do you think?"
"Wise words efendi. This arguing certainly saps our strength. But I think the aura of this place brings much of this about. Evil brings about disharmony. This place is certainly evil. Evil heka is certainly at work here. For why do the undead walk the earth, where only the living should," Asif replies sagely.
"Si, my friend these are dark days. Whatever gods we worship we must be vigilant in our prayers, for surely only a god can protect us from those who cannot die. Signore Rhees may have something to say on the matter, for I believe his people have a festival called 'Samhain' I think, the night when the worlds of the living and the dead become one," Tag shivers involuntarily. "I read of such a thing once. It is in late October, is that right Rhees my friend?"
Rhees appears to have taken Xania's criticism rather harshly, as he does not hear Tag, sitting alone at the edge of the camp. He does not appear to be very interested in conversation.
Later as the group is settling down, "I will take second watch if need be. That way Xania and Taglio can get rest as well as Rheese and Augustus," Rhune says as she lays her bedroll down next to Asif's.
The group begins to settle down for the night when an eerie dark voice startles the whole group, "Taglio, Taglio, thy hands have not spilt enough innocent blood to wield such a weapon, give it back and I shall tear your soul out swiftly," the voice fairly vibrates. Looking about in panic, it repeats itself, this time clearly coming from the direction of the vacated tomb, "Taglio, Taglio, thy hands have not spilt enough innocent blood to wield such a weapon, give it back and I shall tear your soul out swiftly."
Taglio looks around and sees that Forte's backpack is lying right alongside his sleeping blanket, indeed closer to him than it is to Forte himself. He gets the distinct impression that someone would like to have it back!
Looking up with a startled expression on her face, Rhune looks toward the backpack and then the tomb and then Taglio, "hmmmm.....seems someone wants something back," she says in a low voice.
Tag sits up and the blood drains away from his face. He stammers through trembling lips, "Really, Signora I am honored that you would think so highly of me, but I have killed plenty I assure you...and my soul must stay with me, for I have much sin to atone for before I can pass St. Peter's gates....Why the brother has not heard my confessions yet I..." He looks around suddenly with a tangential thought. "Xania, is this you......It's not funny you know!"
"Ok.. who is playing this practical joke on Taglio?" Ullar shouts. "Cut it out! I'm tired...and I want to go to sleep..." says Ullar.
Just then, a slightly quavering little voice is heard from just behind the bard, making him jump slightly.
"Umm, hello." A tiny figure is standing just outside the firelight, mostly in shadow. Somewhat over 3 feet in height, the little man seems hesitant to approach. "I am Amibar. My friends would have called me Ami, had I any friends. Oh dear," The diminutive figure sounds both bitter and amused, and not a little shaken. As the eyes of the party members turn to him, he seems to retreat further into the shadows.
"Only, there's this lion, you see," he looks worriedly over his shoulder, as if expecting the said lion to leap out of the darkness at any minute. "I put him to sleep, see, only I couldn't, you know, KILL it."
"A lion?" Forte responds to the stranger. "How close is this lion?" he asks, reaching for his bow, just in case the beast is nearby.
"Well, he's back there," the figure points behind him into the dark. "I'm not sure just how far, but I could hear your voices from there." He seems to think for a moment. "But I think you were yelling at the time," he adds.
"What? Us, yelling?" Forte says in all seriousness. Realizing his bow would probably be useless in the dark, he puts it away and draws his bastard sword. Stretching as he stands up, his eyes scan the darkness for the ferocious feline.
"Umm. Yes. So, I was wondering, uhh, could I, if it's not much trouble, that is, umm, share your fire tonight?" Having said his piece, the figure waits apprehensively for an answer.
"Did you hear another voice just now? From that direction?" he asks Ami, gesturing toward the desecrated tomb.
No. Did you?" The little man seems puzzled.
"Yes, yes I did. I think Ullar heard it because he thought Xania was playing a a joke....and Tag heard it," Forte says, gesturing to the bard. "Did anyone else hear it?"
"I heard it also. Sounded like it was coming from back toward the tomb," Rhune replies watching the little man walk over to the fire.
Tag gets up and throws his cloak around him. He grabs a warming draft of wine from his saddle bag and looks suspiciously at Forte's bag which moved toward him.
"I thought the voice came from Forte's bag my friends. That mace you have is an evil artifact I surmise, possessed perhaps with the demon of the dead cleric, No? And the bag was over there before was it not? Did anyone move it? I told you desecrating the tomb was a bad idea, now the spirits of the evil dead are loose among us. Mamma Mia! Blessed Mary protect us!" He crosses himself and moves his sleeping stuff and equipment to the other side of the fire away from the bag. "Augustus wake up! Can you exorcise the demon from Forte's bag?"
Rhune lets go of her sword and breathes a sigh of relief. Watching the little man very closely she tries to figure out just exactly what he is. He is very short for a human.
Jumping and nearly drawing her sword in the process, Rhune turns toward the little person. "Wha...Who are you again? And what is this about a lion?" she asks clearly startled as her attention was focused on the tomb and the eerie voice coming from that direction.
Huffing in exasperation, Amibar explains again. "The lion jumped me, and I put him to sleep. Then I came here. And the name's Amibar." He seems impatient, almost rude, but it's like he doesn't know better...
Mistrusting anyone who is shorter than his legs, Ullar glances over at the newcomer, his hand on his purse.
However, when the new one mentions something about a lion, he has Ullar's attention.
"A Lion? Here? You must be joking!" the warrior calls out from his place at the fire.
"Join us and sit next to me if you like...and tell me all about this Lion!"
Tag, a little distracted ignores the newcomer for now.
"Hi," says Forte, marching up to the newcomer and extending his hand. "My name is Forte." He waits for Ami to complete the handshake.
Shaking his head in puzzlement at the people's overreaction, Amibar makes his way closer to the fire, seeking it's warmth, but apparently shunning it's flickering light. Keeping his face hidden in the shadows of his hooded cloak, he takes a seat apart from everyone, and says nothing.
Ullar looks at (yet another) little one with a puzzled look.
"Hmm...I guess my size scared him a little," he says, noting that his invitation is not being accepted.
Tag then sees the little man out of the corner of his eye and jumps surprised. "Ayyee, evil pixies and sprites have come from the netherworld to sell our souls to Satan," he seems quite hysterical. He draws a flaming brand from the fire and crouches in fear behind it cowering from Amibar.
Once everyone's fears have been calmed, as the voice does not repeat itself, and Amibar does not attempt to steal Tag's soul, everyone settles down for the evening. Amibar does not appear to be terribly comfortable at Ullar's suggestion to tell his tale, so he is left to his own means. He is clearly uncomfortable in the presence of the others. At one point, the group hears some howling in the distance, putting them on edge. Interestingly enough, though, minutes later they hear an annoyed sounding low rumbling roar, and the terrified yelping of presumably the same howling voices. Amibar is cheered to see two erstwhile opponents deal with each other instead of him, and manages to get some sleep.
Rhune as usual places her bedroll next to Asif's. And after her watch proceeds to lay next to him, but not before she brushes his forehead with a kiss. Unlike before however she almost immediately puts her arm across his chest as she snuggles against him. Sighing deeply she drifts off to sleep. During the night her dreams are less than pleasant. Nightmares of undead mummies and zombies slip through her mind. And not just once does she wake with a start to find herself sweating. Finally she is able to get a few hours of sleep before morning.
Asif does his best to calm her fears as she awakes after the first of her nightmare. He moves her head to his chest, gently stroking her forehead.
"Sleep, Lady of my heart, fear not I am here. I shall protect thee from harm. I shall remain awake and guard you from these foul dreams...Sleep...Sleep...all is well."
Breathing hard from her nightmare Rhune looks up at him, "I will try, Asif. I will try," she lays her head on his chest and tries calm herself. The combination of his soft voice, caressing hands, gentle breathing and heartbeat soon lull her back to sleep. She wakens only once more from a bad dream of mummies and being frozen.
Tag likewise has disturbed dreams. Passages of Dante's inferno describing the torture of condemned souls in hell go around and around in his head. Excerpt (canto 24): "Tra questa cruda e tristissima copia correan genti nude e spaventate, sanza sperar pertugio o elitropia.
con serpi le man dietro avean legate; quelle ficcavan per le ren la coda e 'l capo, ed eran dinanzi aggroppate.
Ed ecco a un ch'era da nostra proda, s'avventò un serpente che 'l trafisse là dove 'l collo a le spalle s'annoda."
Translation: Among this cruel and most dismal throng People were running naked and affrighted. Without the hope of hole or heliotrope.
They had their hands with serpents bound behind them; These riveted upon their reins the tail And head, and were in front of them entwined.
And lo ! at one who was upon our side There darted forth a serpent, which transfixed him There where the neck is knotted to the shoulders.