A Winter Night

[Carnath-Emory]

Acteon is sent forward of them, Ignas to their rear; 'practice caution', her sister urges, without speaking a single word. Such things needn't be said aloud, not to men of these sort: caution is etched into every line of their limbs, is spoken by the subtlety of their tread upon crisp snowfall.

For a time, her business is the care of two horses, and the cloaked rider of one of them. There are quiet words here, hushed consultation, and a pat of her palm for the palfrey's lean neck at the end of it, for that's a gentle beast, but it's alone amongst unfamiliar horses all the same. There are some moments set aside for checking on her weapons' fastenings, for examining the buckles and clasps that hold the katars inert -- so that when Acteon returns to them with news of something small and female, she has a well-bound hilt already in her palm.

A woman must remember tiny Fawn, after all.
A woman must recall that monster's wicked knives.

But Bromn puts all of this to rest, and promptly; she has seen enough of the warm bond between these two to realise that it's Lamai he describes. Bromn also provides far better an explanation of what they face than Ariane rightly could have, but this surely surprises no-one. It is his skill; it is his strength, and glad of it, the woman eases back in her saddle to wait.

With just the slightest whitening of her knuckles around thin reins, when he claims membership of that cabal.


It's in the midst of dismounting that Jons makes his offer, and startles a blink from the woman; the man is afforded a moment's skeptical gaze, until he explains the purpose of that offer and then -- Why, then deep doubt resolves into a fleeting smile; with a nod, she assents. "Best they're kept back," she echoes him. "But if the Order gathers for true, we'll have good use for their numbers -- and noise enough to summon them."

Oh, be sure of that. Down from the saddle she slides then, and there is a pause here: the katars will be left to their place for now, but there is Renne's knife to strap against one hip, a small harness of delicate leather straps to bind about a bare forearm. Some business there with packets and thin blades, before the sleeve's rolled back down over the lot of it; some business with less simpler things, for Jons is not the only one who carries masks with him this cold night. Her beast is let to its own devices, being obedient enough in this matter; once Bromn has dismounted from his own, there's a moment taken to check its bindings -- and oh, such a glance for Acteon's features, when he encounters her ward. There is something in his gaze, something so familiar that it inspires relief.

Agnieszka Kaczmarek inspires something very different, as it happens, but there's no harm in her presence here today. "Burn those cultists," Ariane had told the girl -- as Hajmat had once told her, and she won't turn the girl away now; not Agnieszka, nor her friend Rhaena, for all her distrust of that girl's ... talent. Oh, quite the contrary ... and when Bromn moves towards those caverns, as if he quite meant to dare them alone, she is turned to move quietly in his wake.

[Vanidor]

The reply from Jons was quick enough, as a motion of the arms saw a hand dip into the box of quarrels at his thigh. A moment to feel around for the proper projectile, and then a slender bolt would be removed. The weapon was set, a motion that was near to soundless thanks to well oiled machinery and hinges, then the bolt laid into place with a subdued 'snick'. The Lieutenant took a few steps away from the group, and then licked his forefinger. A moment to draw the tip of his finger against the spine of the bolt, and then he aimed the weapon away from the path they would travel.

He was still a moment, and then next would come the gentle 'thuwp' of the crossbow firing. The bolt flicked out as holes bored into the wood made the whistling sound of a nightbird that thrived in the southern part of New Dauntless. They were known to visit Myrken now and again, usually in the spring, but once in a while... once in a while... they would find themselves stuck in this dark province. Jons nodded to himself, then turned about to follow the rest of the group.

This was quiet time now, and as such Jons kept the crossbow in hand and a bolt in the other. Who knew what they would come across at the mouth of this cavern. If it was needed, then two weapons capable of spitting death from the treeline would be useful. He was glad, then, that this Acteon had been so thoughtful as well. As the group started to move out, Jons turned his attention towards Agnieszka and her companion. Perhaps it was good that the man had his mask on, for she wouldn't see the slight frown of disapproval upon his face.

Still, she was being trained for a reason. What with numbers and books and other such -learning-. So, he nodded to the girl and her companion. "Stay close, Sister. Keep quiet. Be ready for the End." Again, it was perhaps good that the mask was there. For the smile that wound itself upon his face upon these last words was... quite disconcerting.

[channe]

A well-practiced dismount from Kals' horse, and she's thrilled for a moment that she can actually spell the word that signifies this animal in her head, and she does it -- until she wrenches herself back into the moment and stays there.

She is here because of the fact that Quincy asked for help and she cannot think of a reason to deny it; because, somewhere in that strange little heart of hers she has a desire to see Ariane admit that there is a woman's soul, not a child's, breathing in her body; and because she is stubborn and unreasonable enough to want that.

She is here because this is Agnieszka Kaczmarek, who has a devil of a time backing down from a dare; who, despite bravado, cares deeply; because curiosity never killed a Kaczmarek and because the girl who thought it a half-decent plan to challenge Kerrak on someone else's advice still has to learn her lessons about the better part of valor.

But that won't come in one of Aeryn's books.

Jons, now; he may scowl at her behind that mask, but for Agnieszka there is relief. No taking orders from Bromn, who is setting off in a way that's going to get them all killed, or even from Ariane -- except for that mask gives her the screaming willies. A grumbling in her throat, before she sets off to checking the fasteners on the cuirass she wears.

"Don' agree wi' yer estimation that this is the end, sir," she says in acknowledgement, sliding the dagger into place at her hip, and then she turns to Rhaena, and pats the girl on the shoulder with an excited grin. "Do whatever he tells you to, righ', Rhae," she says in very quiet tones, poking a thumb at Jons. And then, a second dagger appears in her hand -- nothing special, just standard issue -- and she proffers it to Rhaena. "Got one o' these? Know how t' use it?" She is apologetic. "I -- never asked ya that."

[Cinnabar]

Preparations. Making ready. Moving out. Very good, then. As others tether their mounts and ready their weapons, Cinnabar simply removes his coat, absently brushing it down with a hand to dislodge twigs and burrs picked up during his run through the woods. The linen shirt and finely-tailored doublet he wears should be warm enough for now, provided he doesn't stand around in the cold for too long. Casting about for a moment, he wanders towards where Altias has tied up his horse.

A polite nod is offered in passing to Bromn-the-younger, now heading for the caves, and he neatly hangs up his coat on a handily broken-off branch. The garment's warm cloth is useful, yes, but also heavy and likely only to prove an encumbrance in the cramped confines of the tunnels.

There. With any luck it'll still be there when he returns from the caverns. He adjusts his scarf, winding it more snugly about his throat and tucking the ends into the neck of his doublet to avoid having them snag on anything.

That taken care of he turns to follow Altias and the others, swinging his arms to keep warm, nodding or waving to those he recognises among this merry band. Still smiling, but perhaps with a slightly more predatory tilt to his lips now, a few more teeth showing than before.

The hunt is on.

[Jirai]

Ah, questions that ought to have been asked. The veiled girl shrugged as she accepted the dagger, not admitting that she really didn't know how to use it - hopefully she would not have to. After all, she had other abilities to rely on. She, too, dismounted.

[Rattrap]

"...damnit! Bull!"

Athena had lost the group's trail, as easy as it ought to have been to track them. Or, at least she thought she did. The snow was confusing at this point and while she was still trudging in what she figured was a forward direction as far as the spelunking group was considered, she opted for a more vocal means of locating them.

"So, uh...HEY! Where the hell'd you all go? Why the hell did I follow you? "

Trees. Trees and snow. The clearing that the group had met in was skipped over entirely by the self-employed bartender, which is likely much of the cause for her lack of direction; though in truth, Athena is moving toward the same location as the others - just, at this point, a different direction. And without any particular knowledge of where she's going.

Still, if Ignas listened hard enough and waited long enough, her shouts might reach his half-demon ears.

[Acteon]

Acteon had been aware of the wolf, though not that the wolf was tracking him. He had picked up the scent of the wolf’s dander in the night air, but had merely assumed it one of many in the forest and had dismissed it as such—especially since he had eventually lost the scent amidst the scent of roses upon the wind.

Acteon didn’t think again about the wolf; there was no reason to, not yet anyway. The huntsman was far too concerned with the group’s brazen determination to venture headfirst into the unknown.

The huntsman finished whispering into Ventatici’s ear a moment before Jons fired his whistling crossbow bolt. The red-breasted bush wren. The bolt made the exact sound of a red-breasted bush wren. Should they get through all of this alive, Acteon would have to do his imitation of this rare bird for Jons. It was one of many birdcalls that Acteon had perfected. However, that would have to wait for another time.

But then, far in the distance Acteon heard the red-breasted bush wren again, just a quiet whistle on the wind. Acteon almost strained to hear it again, hoping to determine whether it was another wren answering the call of the bolt, or if it was indeed another bolt, answering the call of Jons himself. Since the sound did not repeat, Acteon figured it was the latter. Regardless, the form of communication impressed him. That too could be discussed later, as there were more important matters afoot.

Acteon took nothing more from saddle bags on Venatici. He gave her neck one last touch and gave her a bearded smile before he walked away, leaving her untethered. Clearly the woodsman had a connection with nature and the beast. Venatici merely dropped her head to the snow, sniffing the cool frost for a late evening snack.

Acteon moved forward quickly, trying to catch up to Altias and the others. Quincy had asked him to show them the quietest way and so he would. He moved to the front of the group, retracing the silent steps he had taken during his previous, lone scouting expedition.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at the point where he had held his position. And there in the distance, next to the dark tangle of shrubs which most certainly hid the entrance of the cave, was Lamai. Acteon halted the group with a hand raised. He then pointed silently at the woman in the distance. He knew that Altias had identified her as a friend, but it never hurt to be cautious. “There,â€

[Minty]

The shouting behind him has led him to believe that their pursuer is not an enemy. But she will be a danger. This is another reason Ignas holds back. Because one big screwup could jeopardize the lives of the entire group. He followed with the group, loosely behind. No way of concealing the group's tracks, nor was it really needed.

He would -follow-, and play his role well. A role similar to Acteon's. Perhaps in fact, with the combined efforts of those wise enough to know what the hell they're doing, this group may stand a chance of coming out unscathed.

[Cinnabar]

Quietly approaching the huddled group in the lead, he cranes to see what might be the current object of fascination. Hm. The girl waiting around over there? The poor lighting seems to impair his sight not at all, as he's quickly nodding in confirmation, voice kept low to match Acteon's.

"She's from the tavern. I've spoken with her a couple of times."

He looks between the various leaders of the group, grinning expectantly.

"So. Who's going in first?"

It's a fair question. Whoever leads the group into the caves themselves could reasonably expect to face the brunt of whatever resistance there might be. However, if the leader goes unnoticed they might not face much resistance at all. So perhaps sending in someone quiet would work better than sending in someone tough.

It's all about properly deploying your pieces. The comparison has him idly wondering which of this band might count as the king, queen and courtiers, and which might count as the pawns.

[channe]

If Agnieszka Kaczmarek were thinking on the same wavelength as Cinnabar, she'd have no illusions that she is anything more than a pawn or maybe even a well-meaning bishop, slanted in thought and in practice. But she's not. She's realizing that someone in this group is going to get everyone killed, and that it's just a matter of time.

"Someone go and shut her up --" the girl mumbles, with a nod for Cinnabar and the others, now, she hasn't greeted before -- "'fore she gives us away." Ignas is closest; she's looking at him for that, at least, and continues speaking in a low, chiding voice at Cinnabar.

"... as fer goin' in first? We can't go in wi'out a proper plan o' sorts." This, she indicates Rhaena. "Ariane's been in there, she can tell us how it's laid up, yeah? This is their turf; if we just march in there an' there's folks all 'round we're double as likely to get killed." And her gimlet eyes fix on the older woman expectantly. Oh, Agnieszka's seen it, too, but she's certainly not going to bring that up in this company.

And her ears are currently full of stories of battles that came out badly because of a lack of planning.

[Awry]

It took around an hour, but diligently scanning the rocky outcroppings of the terrain closely with Smoke finally rewarded Sefall with a small dip in the land, mottled here and there with a few errant pines who roosted away from their family. In this bowl-shaped indentation in Mother Earth, there was a knothole, roughly about two feet in diameter.

The man in black and the timber wolf fell to the ground beside the perforation, and listened. Here and there, there was some low, murmuring words and the rustle of clothing - sound was the only sense he would trust. If he pocked his head over the hole to look in, perchance if anyone was looking *up*, he would be clearly illuminated against the moonlight.

For now, he waited. It would be easy enough to determine whether this was a guarded knothole, or if the murmurs and rustles he heard were simply periodic patrols.

[Quincy]

Small Quincy watched Agnie and Rhaena join the group with a tiny vestige of apprehension in her eyes, and then she simply nodded; their quiet guide was done whispering to his horse, and she proceeded hot-foot in his wake - almost subconsciously identifying herself with the dark, quiet mood of the winter forest.

In some places there was evidence of the harsh spells earlier in the season; it wasn't that she meant to pay them mind, but her eyes were turned this way and that as though she were threatened by some invisible foe as they travelled - and she meant for very little to escape her notice as they grew closer to the caves. There was something about these small hours of the night that sucked at the heart's courage.

She followed Acteon's sure, narrow path, and just as she began to wonder at precisely how far it would be - the woodsman halted the group with a raised hand. The slight girl eased up beside the man to gaze forward at the mostly hidden entrance, and her narrowing eyes settled on Lamai. Tension unraveled from her as she stood there, the thickness of her cloak shunning the cold.

Rather than speak, she tilted a tiny nod to Acteon; her dark, question-steeped eyes cast toward Altias, wondering if the frail man had any plans on how they might get the healer's attention without making a mess.

There were questions like Cinnabar's that she could not rightly answer; she was certainly no strategist, and even more than that - she could not believe that they were having a conversation while they'd just taken pains to approach the cave so very quietly. She shot a look at him and Agnie, her eyes slightly wide and incredulous - begging for their silence without a word.

Then she turned to look toward the blindfolded healer ...

[Lamai]

Altias was hardly necessary to get the attention of the blind woman. There was a subtle twist of her head, chin tilting forward as if she was attempting to look back at the incoming group through the corner of her eyes. Her mouth twisted upwards in a small smile, but a moment later, her entire body turned to face them.

There was little doubt that she had been waiting, in fact. Even though she couldn't see through the foliage -- and perhaps not even if she could see at all -- her hand rose in silent greeting.

Ariane and Quincy were immediately recognized. Rhaena would feel the familiar touch of a guarded mind's identification of her own, and where there was Rhaena, there was Agnie. That could prove to be a poor decision. However, it was not hers to make.

Jons was found with a small smile; his was the reason she was even there, waiting near the entrance of a cave she knew in her nightmares. Time would tell if the torch that lit her darkness would prove needed.

Altias. There were no words.

The rest were relative unknowns to her, though she had at least met a handful in passing. She would leave their uses up to Quincy and Ariane; after all, only a handful of knowns had appeared in these caves the first time.

Once that hand lowered from its wordless greeting, the healer turned her body halfway back in the way it had come, and her head turned fully towards the cave's entrance. She could have told them what was inside -- but what fun was that? She had learned to keep her council unless it was asked of her.

[Sventon]

There were fluttering tatters of white robe in the hands of gnarled tree-branches near the second, clandestine entrance that Sefall found in the forest that night. It was larger than a crawl-space, though he might've flattened down for caution nonetheless; it was hidden well in the foliage, though for the Emperor's Hand - hidden things were surely a small feat.

But Sefall had not heard whispers; the cultists never spoke amongst themselves, or even to themselves for fear of knowing one another, and none of them had moved for quite some time. A great curtain of foliage hung down, so that he could either push it aside or gaze beneath. Cold gusts of winter wind wisped past the tendrils of vine. Perhaps he'd heard the dry, hollow noise of scattering dead leaves on the stone floor of the black tunnel that he peered into now.

Beyond it and inside there was narrow, dark space that opened out farther down with distant light. There was a glimmer of metal bars.

Sefall had found the holding cells.

[Vanidor]

Jons made no sound as Lamai was encountered. Simply, he gazed at the woman through the blank visage of his burial mask. His dark eyes darting too and fro as the scene before them was weighed and measured. A glance for Acteon, then another for Ariane. A third for Altias, who's role here was pivitol. A hard look here, as if Jons was weighing the man once again, as if in a new light. No, here Lamai, can you hear the thoughts that rumble like a murmuring brook through the warriors mind...

The pity. The determination. It was familiar. Tantalizingly so. As if a touch of fire had been laid within the breast of the spy master by his master. The need to see a task finished to the end, despite the costs. Because of the costs. Yet it was not the same zeal. It was quiet. Sinister. Here was the hand that did the distasteful things even the Duke's former right hand could not do.

Orders... Was this why Kerrak had silently implored you to be there at that cavern of nightmares, where sight had been taken away? Jons was a silent shadow in the night, except for those who had any skill at reading the mind. Orders... To bring about the Flame to finish off the Shadow. Even if it meant the death of a friend.

Then. To Ariane and Quincy, Jons spoked in his quiet whisper. "Perhaps I should go first. If it comes to a fight at the mouth... I am certain I can handle it until the next comes along...."