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Redbelly Hive, South Shroud:
There was an ebb and flow to the life of a Redbelly at the pickets. The usual state of affairs was a tense watchfulness, ears open and spears out for any Wailers that might stray too close, but that could vary. A big hit on a caravan meant a doubling of the guard in preparation for retaliation from the masks and their adventurer quislings, and then a tripling on top of that for grave detail after both sides had exchanged words and not incidentally killed a large number of each other. Afterwards, when neither side considered the other strong enough to be a threat, there would be a brief quiet as Quarrymill replenished its own and the Hive did the same. There were always more in the caves, hungry and desperate. Such matters never lasted for long, a sennight or two before there were enough fresh recruits to make the force respectable again.
That was usually the case, anyroad. For the past moon, however, there had been no orders from the leaders, no mobilization for something larger. The smaller-scale business of shaking down locals and the lost alike was all they’d been allowed, and Rosette, for one, was getting half-sick of it, of staring out at nothing in the dark, spear in one hand and a flask of watered-down spirits in the other, quite certain there was no chance of something interesting like a mask rushing out of the dark with a spear at the ready or an adventurer trying something cute and heroic.
She swilled a quick drink and passed it to her partner a few fulms away. He gave her a look of disapproval, brows furrowed. She nudged it in his direction again until, sighing, he accepted the offer.
“About time, Burchard,†she mumbled, clasping her spear with both hands to support herself, continuing her staring contest with nothing. “Might as well enjoy yourself on the slow nights.â€
“It’s not that,†he said after he had finished his drink and fobbed the flask back to its owner. “I just thought I’d be drunk afore I died, you know.â€
She snorted, and that itself was the stifling of a much louder laugh. Even in fixed positions, orders were to be quiet on the watch. “What, tonight? Now?â€
“Yes, now, tonight, pass it again?†His voice was certain enough, his sharp features composed enough, that she only hesitated a moment before acceding to the request. He drank long, and deep.
“Come on now, dead? Tonight? You must be joking.†Rosette tried to keep her voice light.
“Well, it’s just how stories go, for one thing,†he rumbled once he’d finished, swishing the metal bottle. It sounded disappointingly hollow to Rosette’s ears. “Quiet night, nothing unusual, light guard, not expecting anything unusual, drinking on duty, so on. Good night for a guard or two to die, if you believe the minstrels.†Burchard frowned, and folded his arms together, leaning against the stumps that marked the Hive’s picket lines. “But no, somebody told me I would, tonight, and I think I believe it.â€
As guard pairings went, Rosette was never keen to be trapped on duty with Burchard. He was occasionally morose, did not drink enough, responded to her idle flirtations on the quieter nights without even a playful sense of rejection, and had the odd measure of respect for the Wailers they fought so frequently. But all of this was just odd. “Somebody just told you,†she repeated. “Wasn’t Stephan, was it? Because he’s just cross about losing this post for latrine duty tonight, and if he was saying that I wager a bit of ale and he’ll be fine, so - “
Burchard deigned to chuckle. “No, not Stephan. Earlier today, though, there was . . . well, we were bringing down a stag for supper, and as we were skinning things I thought I saw someone in the woods, watching. All hooded, like. Thought it might’ve been a spy so I told the rest to stay put and took off after. Didn’t get more than a couple dozen yalms into the brush, you know, and there he was. I think.â€
“He?â€
“I think. Had his hood off. It was like . . . “ His hands tightened around his arms where they were folded, and despite a warm night, Rosette was sure he shivered. “You don’t need to want to know that, I think. But it was off, and he gave me this look, you see, with his eye? And he told me to get on guard duty tonight. I did that, and I’d die clean. If not, then - “ Now Burchard shuddered, something that seemed to  wrack his whole body. “Then it’d be worse. Said I needed to give a message.â€
“Message?†Rosette looked around the forest. All of it suggested something for her sake, but as to why, she couldn’t understand. “Why - what - you’re joking, right Burchard?†Even as she spoke, he finished the last of the flask. The pain in his eyes was more evident now, more than the spirits could allow him to conceal. They seemed to bulge in the torchlight as the rest of him stumbled forward, tried to keep upright. “No, no, it’s okay, it’s okay! Just tell me what it was. Tell me, all right?â€
“M-message, right.†He sucked in a breath. “He - it said, ‘Walk away from the picket, Rosette. For your uncle’s sake, walk away.’†As the words left Burchard’s lips, so too did the pain in his body. A smile and a look of great relief later, and he collapsed to the ground.
Rosette took a step back from stump, mouth parted and eyes widened in shock. She drew in breath to give a watch-whistle, a call for help, and paused. At the edge of the Hive’s picket line, at where torchlight faded into the dark, she felt something. Perhaps she saw a shape, mayhaps the outline of a hood. The whistle died.
Picking up her spear and taking off her mask, Rosette stepped out of the picket and away, into the dark. Buscarron’s was a close enough walk that she could get a bit of strong drink for her troubles.
As she faded from the light, two figures appeared in her place, passing into the open clearing of the Hive without a word of challenge, stopping at Burchard’s body.
One uttered a sharp chuckle of disbelief before speaking in a low, rumbling voice. “I can’t believe that worked. Do you think she’ll be back?â€
“Not tonight. Not ever, if she remembers well enough.†The other was shorter by a good fulm than its counterpart, its voice softer and composed.
“Take your word for it I ‘spose. Thought we’d have to get her as well.†The first nudged Burchard with the toe of a shoe. “Do we bring him back?â€
“There is no need. He did as we asked.†The second’s hood turned towards the entrance of the Hive. “The rest, though - .â€
Nothing more was said. The pair approached the gates of the Hive.
There was an ebb and flow to the life of a Redbelly at the pickets. The usual state of affairs was a tense watchfulness, ears open and spears out for any Wailers that might stray too close, but that could vary. A big hit on a caravan meant a doubling of the guard in preparation for retaliation from the masks and their adventurer quislings, and then a tripling on top of that for grave detail after both sides had exchanged words and not incidentally killed a large number of each other. Afterwards, when neither side considered the other strong enough to be a threat, there would be a brief quiet as Quarrymill replenished its own and the Hive did the same. There were always more in the caves, hungry and desperate. Such matters never lasted for long, a sennight or two before there were enough fresh recruits to make the force respectable again.
That was usually the case, anyroad. For the past moon, however, there had been no orders from the leaders, no mobilization for something larger. The smaller-scale business of shaking down locals and the lost alike was all they’d been allowed, and Rosette, for one, was getting half-sick of it, of staring out at nothing in the dark, spear in one hand and a flask of watered-down spirits in the other, quite certain there was no chance of something interesting like a mask rushing out of the dark with a spear at the ready or an adventurer trying something cute and heroic.
She swilled a quick drink and passed it to her partner a few fulms away. He gave her a look of disapproval, brows furrowed. She nudged it in his direction again until, sighing, he accepted the offer.
“About time, Burchard,†she mumbled, clasping her spear with both hands to support herself, continuing her staring contest with nothing. “Might as well enjoy yourself on the slow nights.â€
“It’s not that,†he said after he had finished his drink and fobbed the flask back to its owner. “I just thought I’d be drunk afore I died, you know.â€
She snorted, and that itself was the stifling of a much louder laugh. Even in fixed positions, orders were to be quiet on the watch. “What, tonight? Now?â€
“Yes, now, tonight, pass it again?†His voice was certain enough, his sharp features composed enough, that she only hesitated a moment before acceding to the request. He drank long, and deep.
“Come on now, dead? Tonight? You must be joking.†Rosette tried to keep her voice light.
“Well, it’s just how stories go, for one thing,†he rumbled once he’d finished, swishing the metal bottle. It sounded disappointingly hollow to Rosette’s ears. “Quiet night, nothing unusual, light guard, not expecting anything unusual, drinking on duty, so on. Good night for a guard or two to die, if you believe the minstrels.†Burchard frowned, and folded his arms together, leaning against the stumps that marked the Hive’s picket lines. “But no, somebody told me I would, tonight, and I think I believe it.â€
As guard pairings went, Rosette was never keen to be trapped on duty with Burchard. He was occasionally morose, did not drink enough, responded to her idle flirtations on the quieter nights without even a playful sense of rejection, and had the odd measure of respect for the Wailers they fought so frequently. But all of this was just odd. “Somebody just told you,†she repeated. “Wasn’t Stephan, was it? Because he’s just cross about losing this post for latrine duty tonight, and if he was saying that I wager a bit of ale and he’ll be fine, so - “
Burchard deigned to chuckle. “No, not Stephan. Earlier today, though, there was . . . well, we were bringing down a stag for supper, and as we were skinning things I thought I saw someone in the woods, watching. All hooded, like. Thought it might’ve been a spy so I told the rest to stay put and took off after. Didn’t get more than a couple dozen yalms into the brush, you know, and there he was. I think.â€
“He?â€
“I think. Had his hood off. It was like . . . “ His hands tightened around his arms where they were folded, and despite a warm night, Rosette was sure he shivered. “You don’t need to want to know that, I think. But it was off, and he gave me this look, you see, with his eye? And he told me to get on guard duty tonight. I did that, and I’d die clean. If not, then - “ Now Burchard shuddered, something that seemed to  wrack his whole body. “Then it’d be worse. Said I needed to give a message.â€
“Message?†Rosette looked around the forest. All of it suggested something for her sake, but as to why, she couldn’t understand. “Why - what - you’re joking, right Burchard?†Even as she spoke, he finished the last of the flask. The pain in his eyes was more evident now, more than the spirits could allow him to conceal. They seemed to bulge in the torchlight as the rest of him stumbled forward, tried to keep upright. “No, no, it’s okay, it’s okay! Just tell me what it was. Tell me, all right?â€
“M-message, right.†He sucked in a breath. “He - it said, ‘Walk away from the picket, Rosette. For your uncle’s sake, walk away.’†As the words left Burchard’s lips, so too did the pain in his body. A smile and a look of great relief later, and he collapsed to the ground.
Rosette took a step back from stump, mouth parted and eyes widened in shock. She drew in breath to give a watch-whistle, a call for help, and paused. At the edge of the Hive’s picket line, at where torchlight faded into the dark, she felt something. Perhaps she saw a shape, mayhaps the outline of a hood. The whistle died.
Picking up her spear and taking off her mask, Rosette stepped out of the picket and away, into the dark. Buscarron’s was a close enough walk that she could get a bit of strong drink for her troubles.
As she faded from the light, two figures appeared in her place, passing into the open clearing of the Hive without a word of challenge, stopping at Burchard’s body.
One uttered a sharp chuckle of disbelief before speaking in a low, rumbling voice. “I can’t believe that worked. Do you think she’ll be back?â€
“Not tonight. Not ever, if she remembers well enough.†The other was shorter by a good fulm than its counterpart, its voice softer and composed.
“Take your word for it I ‘spose. Thought we’d have to get her as well.†The first nudged Burchard with the toe of a shoe. “Do we bring him back?â€
“There is no need. He did as we asked.†The second’s hood turned towards the entrance of the Hive. “The rest, though - .â€
Nothing more was said. The pair approached the gates of the Hive.
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Current Fate-14 Storyline:Â Merchant, Marine
Current Fate-14 Storyline:Â Merchant, Marine