iminlovewithedwardcullen
New member
Aravis looked at Susan and mouthed "Awww," at the messgae as it was read out.
OCC: Typical girl thing
OCC: Typical girl thing
Tales from the Wardrobe...
- Thread starter dayhawk68
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Copperfox
Well-known member
Horatius heard all that was said without commenting; nor did his feline face betray any emotion. But as Donald flew away, the old leopard's heart was flying past him, higher and higher, to where the loveliest she-leopard imaginable was awaiting him, crouched on the cliff-edge of Aslan's Country where she could look down into the Shadowlands and see her husband. Not until he came to that place in literal fact would Horatius have with Laneeja the reunion which Edmund had only days to wait for with Angela. The leopard fervently hoped that Edmund appreciated what he had in his princess.
Only Kreechikree suspected what her carnivore friend was thinking, but she also said nothing. Still unmarried herself, the she-mouse felt unqualified to say anything about that bond of love which lives on beyond death.
Only Kreechikree suspected what her carnivore friend was thinking, but she also said nothing. Still unmarried herself, the she-mouse felt unqualified to say anything about that bond of love which lives on beyond death.
Aslans Messenger
New member
ooc: Copperfox told me what is going on and I am trying to figure out how to come in! Dose anyone have an idea's?
Copperfox
Well-known member
You're one of the maidservants, right? The Pevensies are not such elitists as to require employees to shut up unless spoken to; so you could talk almost as if among social equals. Remark on the duck's hasty visit, or on the Hermit quest, or on recollection of some past trip along this same well-travelled route, or on the amnesia mystery, or on the Satyrs whom your party briefly met some hours back. For that matter, you have the freedom to imagine some new non-player character appearing, such as someone (not necessarily human) from the staff of the inn where you'll be staying (if it is held that you're close to there by now). Or say that you suddenly fall into a bog hole, so the others have to rescue you.
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Aslans Messenger
New member
ooc: So where exactly are ya'll?
Copperfox
Well-known member
I think Barbarian King, portraying Edmund, has the most certain opinion of how far in time you've come. I believe that for you it's mid-afternoon by now, meaning there's a bit more riding to do before stopping for the evening. The countryside you're passing through is rural, but NOT a wilderness this close to the capital. Farmers, merchants, or talking animals that live in a rural setting might cross your path, whether or not their business has anything to do with the inn you're headed for. And since the quest for a successor to the Hermit of Archenland is not any deep dark secret, you could speak to any passer-by about it.
Copperfox
Well-known member
[Here, Messenger, I'll give you a for-instance. Imagine that the following little vignette occurred _before_ the questing characters began to discuss what their plans for the night should be. Since Dayhawk hasn't posted much recently, I'm going to take the liberty of putting just one simple sentence in Lucy's mouth, nothing that can possibly contradict anything Dayhawk would do with the character. Lights, camera, action!]
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Coming up from the west, five Talking Hogs lowered their snouts to earth in deference as soon as they saw who was before them. "Hail to the royalty, and Aslan bless them!" grunted the largest, a long-tusked boar.
"Aslan's blessings be likewise upon you, good creatures!" responded Queen Lucy. Her mare added, "What cheer for you today, sturdy friends?"
"My wife here," said the boar, turning his head toward the next-largest hog, "had a dream last night. Do tell them, Fairbristle."
The sow meekly drew closer to Lucy. "I dreamed that the High King was walking in a dark place, then came to a campfire which was almost burned out. Sticking a leafy branch into it as a torch, he then exclaimed, 'Here, take it and find a new firepit for it!' Only after he said this did I see whom he was addressing..." She paused, surveyed those before her, then continued: "He was addressing a group of humans who, upon seeing Your Majesties, I daresay was this very group of yours."
"Be certain that Aslan Himself sent you that dream, honest sow," piped in Kreechikee from her saddle-perch. "The fire we seek to preserve is the spiritual service done to the northlands by the Hermit of Archenland. The Hermit foresees his passing over to Aslan's Country in the near future, and we seek any clue to who his successor might be."
"But the quest is not limited to ourselves," put in Edmund. "Any subject of this kingdom could play a part in the search. The High King, in fact, has arranged for word of the situation to be promulgated throughout the land. None of us knows exactly what to look for, so many eyes and snouts are needed."
The Talking Hogs promised to let other creatures of their acquaintance know of this great matter. Then they respectfully took their leave of the royal party, which in turn continued westward.
======================
[There, that kinda thing.]
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Coming up from the west, five Talking Hogs lowered their snouts to earth in deference as soon as they saw who was before them. "Hail to the royalty, and Aslan bless them!" grunted the largest, a long-tusked boar.
"Aslan's blessings be likewise upon you, good creatures!" responded Queen Lucy. Her mare added, "What cheer for you today, sturdy friends?"
"My wife here," said the boar, turning his head toward the next-largest hog, "had a dream last night. Do tell them, Fairbristle."
The sow meekly drew closer to Lucy. "I dreamed that the High King was walking in a dark place, then came to a campfire which was almost burned out. Sticking a leafy branch into it as a torch, he then exclaimed, 'Here, take it and find a new firepit for it!' Only after he said this did I see whom he was addressing..." She paused, surveyed those before her, then continued: "He was addressing a group of humans who, upon seeing Your Majesties, I daresay was this very group of yours."
"Be certain that Aslan Himself sent you that dream, honest sow," piped in Kreechikee from her saddle-perch. "The fire we seek to preserve is the spiritual service done to the northlands by the Hermit of Archenland. The Hermit foresees his passing over to Aslan's Country in the near future, and we seek any clue to who his successor might be."
"But the quest is not limited to ourselves," put in Edmund. "Any subject of this kingdom could play a part in the search. The High King, in fact, has arranged for word of the situation to be promulgated throughout the land. None of us knows exactly what to look for, so many eyes and snouts are needed."
The Talking Hogs promised to let other creatures of their acquaintance know of this great matter. Then they respectfully took their leave of the royal party, which in turn continued westward.
======================
[There, that kinda thing.]
After riding for some time.
"My dear friends, and Ladies, I can see that my beloved has followed the voice of The Great One and somehow knew she will be needed by the High King. We should all be glad that we have been chosen for this adventure, and that others were chosen for theirs."
"Ladies, I can assure that as soon as we stop for the night, comfortable quarters will be found for all.
The great Hogs are now on the lookout also for any other sign from Aslan. Let us hope we can meet others also willing to help this beloved land."
Copperfox
Well-known member
['Twere nice if we could get up some momentum here. Since Adilia is supposed to be important for the quest, and yet has DONE almost nothing, I'm going to direct some focus to her.]
As they continued on their way, Horatius, who had met the Hermit once himself, talked about him to Adilia:
"I'm old enough to have seen the joyous yet turbulent months that followed the overthrow of accursed Jadis. I was among those who were sent forth from Narnia to search for humans of Narnian ancestry who had long been forced to take refuge in other lands. This led to my meeting the Hermit. He had foreseen the death of the White Witch, and so made our task easier by himself contacting some of the refugee Narnian humans. In the hour that I met him, I was accompanied by two Talking Owls and three Fauns--all beings who, like myself, would function well travelling by night, so we would get on well together. The Hermit was right in the middle of instructing a crowd of people about what conditions to expect in Narnia; and when we showed up, the old rascal grabbed onto us as if we were textbooks in a schoolhouse, displaying us to his audience as living illustrations of what awaited them...."
Adilia was listening to the leopard's narrative, but he could not tell if it was arousing in her any obscured memories of what people might have told her about the same history.
As they continued on their way, Horatius, who had met the Hermit once himself, talked about him to Adilia:
"I'm old enough to have seen the joyous yet turbulent months that followed the overthrow of accursed Jadis. I was among those who were sent forth from Narnia to search for humans of Narnian ancestry who had long been forced to take refuge in other lands. This led to my meeting the Hermit. He had foreseen the death of the White Witch, and so made our task easier by himself contacting some of the refugee Narnian humans. In the hour that I met him, I was accompanied by two Talking Owls and three Fauns--all beings who, like myself, would function well travelling by night, so we would get on well together. The Hermit was right in the middle of instructing a crowd of people about what conditions to expect in Narnia; and when we showed up, the old rascal grabbed onto us as if we were textbooks in a schoolhouse, displaying us to his audience as living illustrations of what awaited them...."
Adilia was listening to the leopard's narrative, but he could not tell if it was arousing in her any obscured memories of what people might have told her about the same history.
"My Dear Lucy, You may begin to make preparations if you like. Just remember that I prefer the open sky. And you know what? When I sleep in out doors, many subjects, who otherwise would not approach our Royal procession, feel comfortable enough to come and speak to me. Out there, in the soft heather and with the gentle moon shining. I welcome their presence all the time. And I seem to need less sleep on nights like that"
"When that happens, dear Sister, I usually hear many tales that I would not otherwise hear when indoors. Maybe someone, on this night and the coming nights will have some good news about our quest or about your faithful maiden, Adilia. That is my hope."
"When that happens, dear Sister, I usually hear many tales that I would not otherwise hear when indoors. Maybe someone, on this night and the coming nights will have some good news about our quest or about your faithful maiden, Adilia. That is my hope."
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"And I would love to hear them all as well. Will you tell them to me in the morning?"
"I think it was more that the swan was well excited because I The Lion Himself had appeared in these whereabouts, around the swans pond. Or so the story goes."
"Well, some swans have been known to... never mind. There have been too many celebrations at Cair that I would probably get it wrong."
Copperfox
Well-known member
HERE'S WHAT PETER AND ANGELA DID IN THE AFTERNOON:
Peter had considered making the men-at-arms go on foot at a forced march, to toughen them; but he decided that the exercise could wait. He wanted to reach the scene of the shooting while there was still enough daylight left for a thorough inspection of the area. So the men-at-arms rode. So, in fact, did the terrier, on the saddlebow of the soldier he was most friendly with. All horses involved, of course, were ones trained not to be afraid of the leopardess who was with them. While they went, Peter asked Grodlork to tell more about the personalities of the two Satyrs who were tentatively suspects; but nothing emerged from this which clearly pointed to either of those two having any particular motive to shoot any Talking Beast on purpose.
The fateful spot was in an area of mixed groves and meadows. The antelope had been in the open, but within a few yards of trees, when he had been wounded.
"Men-at-arms, fan out," Peter commanded. "Search the open ground for the discarded arrow, and for any obvious trail signs. Grodlork, Vesta and Angela, please mind the horses for the moment. Snowpelt--into the woods with me."
For the next ten or fifteen minutes, the High King and the white terrier combed back and forth among the trees. Then Snowpelt went on alert like a hunting hound. "Your Majesty, someone has died in this very stand of timber....died within this day....sire, a _Satyr_ has died....a female Satyr."
Less than a minute later, Snowpelt had led Peter to the unhappy proof of his accuracy. A female Satyr lay dead in the undergrowth, with an arrow stuck through her collarbone into her heart.
"Aslan receive her spirit," the High King sighed. Then: "Snowpelt, please run back to the others, tell the men-at-arms to regroup around the horses, and send Angela, Vesta and Grodlork to me. Then use your noble nose in the open area, in case other informative scents linger there also."
When the three called for joined Peter, he first asked Grodlork, "Do you know this Satyr-woman?"
Grodlork's first answer consisted of dropping to his knees weeping. "Blinjarda!" he howled. "A distant cousin of my own wife! Alas, what foul play was here?"
As the Satyr grieved (and it was perfectly genuine, as far as the others present could tell), Angela looked closely at the lethal arrow. "Peter, do you notice the angle at which that shaft is sticking in?"
"I do," her brother-in-law replied. "Assuming that Blinjarda was standing erect at the moment that arrow struck, it was shot by someone above her." Peter turned to the leopard. "Vesta, I want you to start climbing. Search the trees one by one for any sign that someone may have perched in one."
As Vesta complied, Angela raised a question to Grodlork: "Do your people commonly climb trees?"
Grodlork choked back his tears long enough to say: "Not often, my lady, but we are capable of doing so at need."
Peter leaned close to Angela. "This causes the shooting of Dranvalan to make _less_ sense. It was suggested that a hunter might have shot at game which was near, and hit the antelope with a missed shot. But if the archer who slew this poor Satyress was aloft in the branches, Dranvalan could not have been in the line of flight for arrows that were intended to hit someone where we're standing. Do you have any ideas?"
"Yes. It could be that the killer, while competent in plain straightforward archery, lacked experience in woodland stalking. Remember: both Satyrs and antelopes have CURVED HORNS. Perhaps the killer, intent on this victim, caught a fleeting glimpse through the trees of Dranvalan's horns, and shot in that direction in haste and excitement. When Dranvalan cried out in pain, Blinjarda would not have known the cause of that noise which was coming from the opposite direction to her enemy; so she would not have known to run for it...and when the killer saw his mistake, the next arrow found its unsuspecting intended target."
Minutes passed. While they waited for any findings by Vesta, Peter asked Grodlork the logical question, whether Blinjarda was known to have any enemies among Satyrs, or among other beings with whom the local Satyr population had regular dealings. Again, the answer was negative. "Grodlork," said Peter, "you may take the pony we've lent you, and go to fetch others of your people, so that your kinswoman may have a decent burial."
The sorrowing Grodlork had gone his way before Vesta finally had something to report. "Your Majesty! This oak, in which I'm now sitting, bears a trace of Satyr scent; also a hint of leather, which might bespeak a leathern quiver that held the slayer's arrows."
"It's a shame that no Dryads live in this particular grove," remarked Angela; "they could have told us in more detail what happened."
"More than that," replied Peter. "They could have intervened to prevent the murder from happening in the first place."
Peter had considered making the men-at-arms go on foot at a forced march, to toughen them; but he decided that the exercise could wait. He wanted to reach the scene of the shooting while there was still enough daylight left for a thorough inspection of the area. So the men-at-arms rode. So, in fact, did the terrier, on the saddlebow of the soldier he was most friendly with. All horses involved, of course, were ones trained not to be afraid of the leopardess who was with them. While they went, Peter asked Grodlork to tell more about the personalities of the two Satyrs who were tentatively suspects; but nothing emerged from this which clearly pointed to either of those two having any particular motive to shoot any Talking Beast on purpose.
The fateful spot was in an area of mixed groves and meadows. The antelope had been in the open, but within a few yards of trees, when he had been wounded.
"Men-at-arms, fan out," Peter commanded. "Search the open ground for the discarded arrow, and for any obvious trail signs. Grodlork, Vesta and Angela, please mind the horses for the moment. Snowpelt--into the woods with me."
For the next ten or fifteen minutes, the High King and the white terrier combed back and forth among the trees. Then Snowpelt went on alert like a hunting hound. "Your Majesty, someone has died in this very stand of timber....died within this day....sire, a _Satyr_ has died....a female Satyr."
Less than a minute later, Snowpelt had led Peter to the unhappy proof of his accuracy. A female Satyr lay dead in the undergrowth, with an arrow stuck through her collarbone into her heart.
"Aslan receive her spirit," the High King sighed. Then: "Snowpelt, please run back to the others, tell the men-at-arms to regroup around the horses, and send Angela, Vesta and Grodlork to me. Then use your noble nose in the open area, in case other informative scents linger there also."
When the three called for joined Peter, he first asked Grodlork, "Do you know this Satyr-woman?"
Grodlork's first answer consisted of dropping to his knees weeping. "Blinjarda!" he howled. "A distant cousin of my own wife! Alas, what foul play was here?"
As the Satyr grieved (and it was perfectly genuine, as far as the others present could tell), Angela looked closely at the lethal arrow. "Peter, do you notice the angle at which that shaft is sticking in?"
"I do," her brother-in-law replied. "Assuming that Blinjarda was standing erect at the moment that arrow struck, it was shot by someone above her." Peter turned to the leopard. "Vesta, I want you to start climbing. Search the trees one by one for any sign that someone may have perched in one."
As Vesta complied, Angela raised a question to Grodlork: "Do your people commonly climb trees?"
Grodlork choked back his tears long enough to say: "Not often, my lady, but we are capable of doing so at need."
Peter leaned close to Angela. "This causes the shooting of Dranvalan to make _less_ sense. It was suggested that a hunter might have shot at game which was near, and hit the antelope with a missed shot. But if the archer who slew this poor Satyress was aloft in the branches, Dranvalan could not have been in the line of flight for arrows that were intended to hit someone where we're standing. Do you have any ideas?"
"Yes. It could be that the killer, while competent in plain straightforward archery, lacked experience in woodland stalking. Remember: both Satyrs and antelopes have CURVED HORNS. Perhaps the killer, intent on this victim, caught a fleeting glimpse through the trees of Dranvalan's horns, and shot in that direction in haste and excitement. When Dranvalan cried out in pain, Blinjarda would not have known the cause of that noise which was coming from the opposite direction to her enemy; so she would not have known to run for it...and when the killer saw his mistake, the next arrow found its unsuspecting intended target."
Minutes passed. While they waited for any findings by Vesta, Peter asked Grodlork the logical question, whether Blinjarda was known to have any enemies among Satyrs, or among other beings with whom the local Satyr population had regular dealings. Again, the answer was negative. "Grodlork," said Peter, "you may take the pony we've lent you, and go to fetch others of your people, so that your kinswoman may have a decent burial."
The sorrowing Grodlork had gone his way before Vesta finally had something to report. "Your Majesty! This oak, in which I'm now sitting, bears a trace of Satyr scent; also a hint of leather, which might bespeak a leathern quiver that held the slayer's arrows."
"It's a shame that no Dryads live in this particular grove," remarked Angela; "they could have told us in more detail what happened."
"More than that," replied Peter. "They could have intervened to prevent the murder from happening in the first place."
Copperfox
Well-known member
OOC: This murder-mystery subplot is NOT intended to crowd out the quest plotline. In fact, the only effect it has for now ON the quest is that it gives a plausible explanation of why Angela isn't joining Edmund. All players involved in the Hermit quest are free not only to post comments, but to imagine incidents for themselves, within a reasonable scope. (It would be a little awkward if EVERY player said, "Suddenly Aslan appears to me and proclaims ME the sole ruler of the universe!")
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