In the Heart of Anvard (My Kingdom For a Horse): Free RP

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This time, however, there were no intermediate stops before the coast. Retaw was bound straight for the royal garrison which was located several miles south of the seaport where they had previously met Squire Spalik the merchant and Larto the dock worker. When the royal directive was delivered there, the messengers would next fly hard and fast to the opposite end of Archenland with an identical scroll for the western garrison. Only after that would they work back and forth delivering the civilian mail.
 
Flower dozed for awhile, remebering all the times she had snuggled up to her brother on cold nights.

'Now he's not there anymore... Mid where are you?' she wonders.
 
Retaw made very good time flying to the eastern garrison. There, he had a short but businesslike talk with the knight in command who accepted the royal message. The knight, and his men-at-arms, all spoke matter-of-factly with the Gryphon--because, contrary to some theories, the people of Archenland were not clueless morons who could spend eight centuries right next to Narnia and still have no idea how to deal with mythical creatures.

With the first stop successfully concluded, and with Flower's needs attended to, Retaw soon got airborne again, so that the NPC knight would not have to be onstage for more than one post.
 
'At least if Middy was here I'd have somebody to talk to. Its to hard to talk back and forth to Retaw.' thinks Flower, 'I need a traveling buddy. That little cat, what was his name? Sert, no Stre no Ster, thats it; he'd be perfect, a kitten little younger than me, small enough to fit in the mail pouch too. Dunno if he ever did wake up, if he did was probably already the next night, so he went back to sleep.' she giggles thinking of the scene.
 
Retaw made it to the western garrison while there still was daylight left, after which he could think about seeking out civilian addressees of personal mail.
 
~ ~ There is a place in this "Dawn Treader" area called Character Creation. What you do is write there what character you would like to be, then wait for the Mods to approve it. They won't have any problem with you playing a cat, but they need to keep track of who IS playing.
 
Retaw called back, "We do have some ordinary letters; they were tucked in an inside pocket of the pouch to separate them from the royal message scrolls. We're within a minute or two of landing in the town where our first civilian recipient lives." They were approaching a town in southern Archenland, about one quarter the size of Anvard.
 
'Too many towns and cities here in Archenland. In Narnia, there were few towns and even fewer cities. Come to think of it, by the coast near Cair Paravel is about the only place I've ever heard that there is an city.' she thinks.
 
Retaw made his landing; and in the absence of any official Mod-generated NPC's, we still can reasonably assume that the letter was delivered, and that Flower had the chance to take a rest break now that the high-priority messages had been taken care of.
 
Flower was bored, she had no one to talk to during the flights, and it wasn't as interesting as the first time they went.

'Mid hurry up and get over here because otherwise I'm gonna go find ya!' she thought defiantly.
 
Retaw

"Is something troubling you, small one? Is the flying proving uncomfortable? You are under no oath to continue in this work with me; if you're unhappy, I'll put you off as soon as we pass near Anvard again."
 
#.@. Siawn .@.#

OOC: Copperfox, please feel free to have your marsh wiggle land here. I think it's time to move that section of the plot along as well. There is presumably a navigable river, so that's what I'm assuming here.

Siawn meanders his way down the quayside on the banks of the Winding Arrow river, parchment in hand. He pauses in front of one vessel, then another, scribbling down notes in a neat scrawl. He runs a hand through his hair, not appearing as if he's found exactly what he's seeking, then expels an annoyed breath. His lanky strides quickly carry him even further down the docks.

He pauses for a long minute in front of a ship that looks like it's being held together by a mere breath, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. His quill resumes its frantic scratching, but he makes no move yet to approach the captain.
 
Flower sighed, she was still only a kitten, no matter what anyone said.

'If I'm not doing something constructive I'll be in trouble... but Middy isn't here to get me out of it... But if I stay up here I'm bored out of my skull. Mid, I wish you or the others were here.' a small tear weaved down her face.

Shaking herself she popped out of the mailbag.
"I'll be fine, 'cause if I don't have someone looking after me I get in trouble, its a bad habit I have." she called to Retaw.
 
Gryphon, then Marshwiggle

"Perhaps we can contrive a compromise for you. You made friends easily with those little boys at that farm where we borrowed the length of cord; maybe some of our postal flights could be arranged so as to let you spend some time there, or with other friends you make, and I would pick you up again later."

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There was no need for Siawn to approach the captain of the "Forlorn Hope;" the Marshwiggle captain, and all the ship's otherwise-human company, came swarming ashore. "Sir," said the captain to Siawn, "I am Woefulgut of Northeast Narnia, and I need to speak to someone with some kind of authority. I have just evacuated half a hundred humans out of Narnia by sea; this can be done again, but time is running out for Narnian humans still trapped in their fallen homeland."
 
Retaw's next landing was at one of the southernmost villages of Archenland, almost within sight of the desert which separated them from Calormen. Though not of concern to the messengers or to their mail recipient in this village, there were strangely-dressed humans here: members of a nomadic tribe not yet conquered and enslaved by the empire of the Tisrocs. The nomads were trading pottery and semiprecious stones for iron tools.
 
Curiously Flower watched the humans. Her eyes scanned them for any sign of talking creatures, she saw none. Sighing she remained peering out of the mailbag purely out of curiousity.
 
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