Telling Mrs. Beaver

Gathering Circle

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This wide meadow is carpeted with fallen leaves and smells richly of autumn. It is surrounded on all sides by tall trees, evergreens mixed with elm and beech and towering oak still clinging to their leaves. A well-traveled path passes through the meadow, east into the forest and west toward the cliffs, and another branches south toward the distant sound of a waterfall.

The area is unusually active, dotted with small campsites arranged in a large ring. Several shared firepits flicker cheerily in the center. Larger tents ring the clearing to provide shelter through the chilly nights, including four particularly fine pavilions striped in the colors of the Narnian standard.

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You can go: Clearing <N>, Into Lantern Waste <E>, Caldron Pool <S>, Base of

the Cliffs <W>

Bracken stands amidst others in the camp as they make preparations to depart.

Belgwyn is milling amongst the camp bounding along and helping where he can and having a last chat with many a Narnian before he inevitably ends near Bracken, he waves a paw in greeting, “Hello Bracken!”

Bracken turns to the Otter. He looks drained. “Hello Belgwyn.”

Mrs. Beaver bounds up to the campsite with a parcel in hand. She pauses on the outskirts of the camp, searching perhaps for someone or some people in particular. Continue reading “Telling Mrs. Beaver”

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Telling Mrs. Beaver

Indecision

 

Gathering Circle

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This wide meadow is carpeted with fallen leaves and smells richly of autumn.

It is surrounded on all sides by tall trees, evergreens mixed with elm and

beech and towering oak still clinging to their leaves. A well-traveled path

passes through the meadow, east into the forest and west toward the cliffs,

and another branches south toward the distant sound of a waterfall.

 

The area is unusually active, dotted with small campsites arranged in a large

ring. Several shared firepits flicker cheerily in the center. Larger tents

ring the clearing to provide shelter through the chilly nights, including four

particularly fine pavilions striped in the colors of the Narnian standard.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You can go: Clearing <N>, Into Lantern Waste <E>, Caldron Pool <S>, Base of

the Cliffs <W>

 

Bracken stands near the edge of the camp, talking to a couple of Red Dwarfs.

Cor emerges from the tent in which he and Lord Peridan and Lord Darrin and some of the other courtiers have been councilling over the days since their majesties disappearance. He looks tired, his head hanging a little, shoulders lax, brow furrowed deeper than it has a wont to be, and his hair and clothing are a little rumpled, as if he has found other things to pay heed to than neatness and washing.

Bracken gestures to the dwarfs, who walk with him toward the cooking area and deposit several bundles. They try to ask Bracken a question, but he shakes his head and they depart.

Continue reading “Indecision”

Indecision

They’ve Got to be Somewhere

Gathering Circle

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This wide meadow is carpeted with fallen leaves and smells richly of autumn.

It is surrounded on all sides by tall trees, evergreens mixed with elm and beech and towering oak still clinging to their leaves. A well-traveled path passes through the meadow, east into the forest and west toward the cliffs, and another branches south toward the distant sound of a waterfall.

The area is unusually active, dotted with small campsites arranged in a large ring. Several shared firepits flicker cheerily in the center. Larger tents ring the clearing to provide shelter through the chilly nights, including four particularly fine pavilions striped in the colors of the Narnian standard.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You can go: Clearing <N>, Into Lantern Waste <E>, Caldron Pool <S>, Base of

the Cliffs <W>

Bracken is sitting by the fire, still nursing his coffee.

Lanisen emerges from the thicket to the north.

Cor comes out of his tent looking poorly rested, and a little disheveled. He is warmly dressed, but still looks a little cold.

Petria rises from her place by the fire stretching and moves the greet Prince.

Bracken glances toward the prince. “There’s coffee if you want it, Your Highness.”

Lanisen, sitting with his arms on his knees by the fire, rouses and straightens as Cor emerges. He gets to his feet, a little wobbly with lack of sleep, and bows.

Glora walks out of the underbrush from the direction of the Pool. She looks around the camp, tail twitching in quick flicks.

Cor rubs the back of his head and nods, possibly a response to the offer or possibly to the bowing. He sits at the fire, scrubbing at his face. “No word?”

Petria returns to the fire beside the the Prince, and sniffs the air.

Bracken pours a steaming mug from the metal pitcher and holds the mug out toward Cor. “No.”

Lanisen sits back down, folding his arms across his knees. He glances out toward the edge of the camp.

Cor accepts the cup, holding it by the handle so that he doesn’t burn himself on the tin and not drinking any yet. “How long does it take for a scent to stop being trackable?”

A cat with brilliant green eyes heads towards the fire, glancing the way of the prince as he talks. She sits near the flames and stares into them. Her ears swivel towards the prince and the Dwarf to listen.

Bracken shakes his head. “I wouldn’t be the one to ask.”

Cor looks at Petria.

Lanisen shifts, looking toward Glora with a small, wan smile.

Aliyah emerges from the thicket to the north.

Aliyah lifts her head from her paws even though she was not the one spoken to, having only been listening. “A trail getting cold? Depends on the area really. Water would make it impossible to track immediately if it was crossed. With that said, do they ever get off their horses during a hunt? that is what puzzles me. We could not find any places where clothing might have gotten caught, so we were not able to pick up any human scent from it. We couldn’t make much out beyond the scent left on the horses either.”

Glora looks toward Lanisen and blinks once, still listening.

Cor says, “I was just… wondering if it was time to start a wider search.”

Lanisen looks at Cor at this.

Haft says, “If the trail’s cold there’s not much chance of us muddling it with our own tracks. I did wonder if the trail might pick up again farther from the horses.”

Aliyah looks at racken with a hint of annoyance in her expression. “The horses were everywhere. Would not a trail have branched off from at least one location?”

Cor asks, “They’ve got to — they’ve got to be /some/where, haven’t they?”

Glora’s tail twitches again, sharply, and she stands to walk next to Lanisen and sit next to him.”

They’ve Got to be Somewhere

Missing

Gathering Circle

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

This wide meadow is carpeted with fallen leaves and smells richly of autumn.

It is surrounded on all sides by tall trees, evergreens mixed with elm and

beech and towering oak still clinging to their leaves. A well-traveled path

passes through the meadow, east into the forest and west toward the cliffs,

and another branches south toward the distant sound of a waterfall.

The area is unusually active, dotted with small campsites arranged in a large

ring. Several shared firepits flicker cheerily in the center. Larger tents

ring the clearing to provide shelter through the chilly nights, including four

particularly fine pavilions striped in the colors of the Narnian standard.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You can go: Clearing <N>, Into Lantern Waste <E>, Caldron Pool <S>, Base of

the Cliffs <W>

Petria ears flick forward and backward at the site of the cat. “But wouldn’t they have needed to dismount to ask wishes?

Glora says, “If they ever /got/ wishes.”

Aliyah nods, agreeing with Glora. “At this point, I doubt they got wishes. The horses wouldn’t have been left here and there.”

Aliyah looks at Bracken with a hint of annoyance in her expression. “The horses were everywhere. Would not a trail have branched off from at least one location?”

Bracken asks, “They’ve got to — they’ve got to be /some/where, haven’t they?”

Glora’s tail twitches again, sharply, and she stands to walk next to Lanisen and sit next to him.

Glora’s tail twitches again, sharply, and she stands to walk next to Lanisen and sit next to him.”

Glora blinks in Aliyah’s direction, ears briefly swiveling forward. With a twitch of her whiskers, she looks back towards the others.

Petria snorts looking like she would like to reply to the cat when the wolf concurs.

Lanisen’s eyes shift to Aliyah. He looks down, his forehead furrowing wearily.

Bracken sighs. “Don’t get yer ruff in a twist. We’re just askin’.”

Glora’s eyes narrow when the Dog snorts.

Cor’s lips pull downward, his brows furrowing in concentration. “I think…”

He closes his hands over the quickly cooling tin of coffee. “I think… we need to tell the castle. Curiate Tumnus, certainly. And the, the rest of the council. They’ll know what to do, and they’ll need to know anyway because it might mean they’ve got more decisions to make in the meantime.”

Petria says, “You don’t think somethings happened to them, do you?”

Bracken nods. “That’s reasonable. I hate to worry them when it may be only that Queen Lucy took an interest in something and the others followed, but…Aliyah rests her head back on her paws. “She was so intent on catching that creature. Could anything have taken her interest from it?”

Cor rubs the back of his head again.

Bracken asks, “Probably not. Might be there’s something about the critter itself as would cover the tracks?”

Petria nudges the Prince’s hand, “If you need a messenger, send me your Highness.”

Aliyah frowns, growling to no one but herself. “Or something even more mysterious about it than that. It was leading us in circles until they branched out on their own. Where in the world would it… and they have gone?”

Lanisen listens to the debate without reacting much. His eyes settle distantly on Cor’s undrunk coffee.

Cor takes a breath and nods to Petria. “There was a Leopard in our company, I didn’t catch her name. You could travel with her.”

Glora watches the debate silently, though she glances at the Dog with a slightly skeptical expression at the offer, even as the Prince agrees.

Aliyah looks at the prince, a shocked expression on her muzzle. “Not to undermine you sir, but would it not be more prudent to send a bird due to speed? If the concern is that great at least…”

Cor says, “Um, oh. Oh,” he nods. “I — we didn’t have any Birds in our party.”

Glora stands, flicking her tail a couple more times as she walks off again, taking care to walk quietly and not interrupt.

Glora walks north.

Lanisen stirs and gives Aliyah a frowning side-eye at this public questioning of the prince’s orders.

Cor says, “Um, oh. Oh,” he nods, and his eyes flick upward until they land on the Chimney Swift from the night before, still gliding through the air above the camp. “Nimblewing?”

He looks at Petria. “And then you could run behind with the leopard, in case.”

Petria is all eagerness to be off doing something. “Oh please send me, Your Highness. After all I am one of their Majesties messengers.”

Bracken pours another mug and nods to Lanisen.

Cor says, “I can’t think it would hurt.”

Lanisen nods slightly in agreement, glancing from the Swift to Petria.

Cor turns back to Aliyah, “Other than the stag and their majesties, is there anything else strange? I mean –” he pauses, trying to figure out his own thoughts. “I mean, is there anything we should be prepared for that you’ve seen?”

Aliyah shakes her head quickly. “No, not a thing.”

Cor looks no less burdened by this answer but he nods. To Petria and Nimblewing, he says, “Tell them we’ve not heard from their majesties since yesterday afternoon, and with no sign of what may have happened to them.”

He pauses and then amends, “Talk to, talk to Aliyah and get the full story of it before you go.”

Petria nods.

Petria nods, “Yes, Your Highness.”

Aliyah nods, her expression stoic. “I can take another trip around the area if you’d like as well?” she asks Cor. “After I talk to her, I mean.”

She gestures to Petria.

Cor says, “Ah, or, you could go together, probably, so Petria can see your investigation as you talk.”

Aliyah nods. “That will be fine. I will report back if there are any changes.”

She turns to Petria and motions for her to follow before heading into the forest.

 

Missing

A Garden in the West

Gathering Circle

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This wide meadow is carpeted with fallen leaves and smells richly of autumn. It is surrounded on all sides by tall trees, evergreens mixed with elm and beech and towering oak still clinging to their leaves. A well-traveled path passes through the meadow, east into the forest and west toward the cliffs, and another branches south toward the distant sound of a waterfall.

The area is unusually active, dotted with small campsites arranged in a large ring. Several shared firepits flicker cheerily in the center. Larger tents ring the clearing to provide shelter through the chilly nights, including four particularly fine pavilions striped in the colors of the Narnian standard.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You can go: Clearing <N>, Into Lantern Waste <E>, Caldron Pool <S>, Base of

the Cliffs <W>

Bracken sits by the fire in the cold dawn. The meadow lies heavy with mist, much is it had the day before.

 

Wilder walks into the misty camp sit looking a bit grave.

Aliyah stretches and yawns. She has been curled up away from the fire most of the night, and from the looks of it, she managed to get some sleep. She stands, shaking off her coat and moves towards the fire with another yawn. “Morning,” she half-grunts.

A faun with a green scrarf looks around for somthing

Bracken asks, “Mornin’. You want some coffee?”

Petria stretches rising from her place by the particularly fine tents at the sound of footsteps, she rests her head back on her paws when she sees it’s only a faun.”

Aliyah manages another grunt as she sits. “Nothing for me right now. Still waking up.”

Bracken laughs weakly. “That’s the point of coffee.”

A faun with a green scrarf spots through the mist a company sitting around the camp fireAliyah shakes her head, rubbing an eye with a paw. “I don’t even know what that is, but if it’s food, I have to wake up before I eat it.”

A faun with a green scrarf walks steadily toward the company

Bracken says, “It’s a hot drink. Yeh can put milk or cream and sugar in it, but camping out like this we just drink it black, so it’s bitter.”

Aliyah shakes her head. “I’ll just have water… In a little bit. Need to warm up first.”

A faun with a green scrarf looks rather tierd as he gets closer toward the camp fire

Bracken manages a true chuckle this time. “Also the point of coffee.”

A faun with a green scrarf exclaims, “Hail, have you my any chance seen there Magestys ? I have been out all night looking for them inorder to see how the hunt went !”

Aliyah offers a small smile. “I see,” she says, still waking up and oblivious to much of the world around her.

Bracken turns, blinking at the faun. “Not back yet,” he says, glances toward some horses.

A faun with a green scrarf looks starteld “Really I would have thought theyd be back by know everone need’s to sleep you know”

Bracken says, “Eh, they’re used to going without sleep if the number of times I’ve seen the lights from their windows lit till predawn is any indication.”

 

A faun with a green scrarf nods “But it still seems rather odd.”

Petria stretches and wander over to the company. “Perhaps they’re visiting the beavers?”

A faun with a green scrarf look exsousedAliyah looks to Bracken. “Any ideas as to what we should do today to locate them?”

Her expression is one of hoping he won’t say they should do anything just at this particular moment. She yawns again.

Bracken says, “That’ll be up to Lord Peridan, and it’ll depend on what news the Owl brings back. He might have found them by now.”

Wilder shakes his head gravely at the dogs remark “I didn’t see them at the dam when I checked.”

Aliyah looks like she doesn’t believe part of what he said. “Or the owl might be asleep by now.”

Bracken says, “He had a job to do.”

Wilder  asks, “What’s this about an owl and Lord Peridan ?”

Aliyah gestures at the sky with her muzzle. “They sleep when the sun rises. We can only hope this one has more strength than we did on the hunt.”

Petria scratches behind her ear with a paw. “I met with a unicorn Peridot, she says all manner of creature would be glad to host them.”

Bracken says, “That’s right. Likely they stopped for tea and stayed for supper.”

Aliyah shrugs.

Petria says, “Or perhaps the Stag lead them to the great western wilds? don’t stories say there’s a garden there?”

Bracken asks, “A garden?”

Aliyah looks to Petria. “I’ve not heard of that before.”

Petria scratches her ear harder. “I thought” she pauses to satisfactorily get in a good scratch before replying. “I thought I heard it somewheres. The first son of adam and a little daughter of eve, on a flying horse.”

Skarlieth swoops in just a little after the mention of ‘flying horse.’ He lands rather heavily, taking a couple of steps to stabilize before he folds his wings. Despite a certain tired droop to his stance, his eyes are alert as he glances around the camp.

Bracken says, “Oh that story. Yeah, but that’s a long way off.”

Bracken says, “Don’t even know if someone could find it anymore.”

Aliyah nods. “Don’t think my father ever mentioned it when I lived in the wilds. He talked of much else, but never that. If it was easily accessible, I think he would know.”

She looks wistful. “Besides, like you said Bracken, that must be a long way away.”

Her gaze then turns to Skarlieth, and she lets out a soft bark.

Skarlieth dips his head towards Aliyah, picking his way towards them.

Aliyah’s ears flick as she tries to gauge anything from Skarleith’s stance or eyes. Not succeeding, she asks, “Did you see anything?”

Bracken turns toward the Eagle. “Was he looking?”

Aliyah looks from the dwarf and back. “Doesn’t usually land like that. I’d assume so. That or he’s ill.”

Bracken turns toward the Eagle. “Was he looking?”

Aliyah looks from the dwarf and back. “Doesn’t usually land like that. I’d assume so. That or he’s ill.”

Skarlieth nods once. “I was. I fear I did not.”

Bracken takes a deep breath and releases it, then refills his coffee.

Aliyah frowns, sighing heavily. She digs her claws into the ground, something she’s gotten into a habit of doing when stressed.

Skarlieth’s expression looks little different than usual, but he nods again and makes his way to the coffee. Balancing one one foot and his wings, he hooks a mug and fills it with some coffee as well.

Aliyah watches Skarlieth fill the mug with a grin. She doesn’t say anything about the acrobatics though. Instead, she makes her way back where she was sleeping to watch for any signs of a return by scouts or their majesties.

Skarlieth drinks the coffee in the odd way of Birds, shuddering a bit at the hot liquid before thanking the Dwarf and taking off once more.

 

A Garden in the West

A Nest of Pelts

Gathering Circle

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
This wide meadow is carpeted with fallen leaves and smells richly of autumn. It is surrounded on all sides by tall trees, evergreens mixed with elm and beech and towering oak still clinging to their leaves. A well-traveled path passes through the meadow, east into the forest and west toward the cliffs, and another branches south toward the distant sound of a waterfall. The area is unusually active, dotted with small campsites arranged in a large ring. Several shared firepits flicker cheerily in the center. Larger tents ring the clearing to provide shelter through the chilly nights, including four particularly fine pavilions striped in the colors of the Narnian standard.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You can go: Clearing <N>, Into Lantern Waste <E>, Caldron Pool <S>, Base of

the Cliffs <W>

Aliyah offers a nod to Leon. “That it does. I wouldn’t mind a nice nest of pelts right about now.”

Bracken asks, “How about fall leaves and pine needles?”

Belgwyn emerges from the thicket to the north.

Aliyah laughs. “That’s a little crunchy for my liking. Ulfden has moss nests. We have lots of furs in our den. I much prefer that, though moss will work in a pinch.”

Bracken asks, “Huh…fraid I ain’t got a spare bedroll. What about horse blankets?”

A wolf with an unmistakable limp emerges from the thicket to the north.

Aliyah grins. “I’ll find something. No need in taking the blankets from the horses.”

He [Leon] stands. “I hope there is better news in the morning…”

Pheeobe comes out of the woods from the North looking a bit tired.

Bracken nods. “Night Leon.”

 

Aliyah offers a quiet bark to Pheeobe as she enters the clearing.

A Nest of Pelts

Caves

Practice Grounds

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You find yourself on a pretty, grassy lawn that runs along the north side of Cair Paravel’s main tower. Most of it has been trampled quite a bit by feet and hooves of various sizes, as it’s been used as a training field for Cair Paravel’s resident knights. There are a number of flagstone paths, though, that run around the perimeter toward some outbuildings. There is a stable to the north, a wide, stocky watchtower to the northeast, and to the distant east at the end of the peninsula, the naval pier is being constructed. You can see the ocean beyond, stretching out in its twinkly blueness toward the horizon.

There isn’t much of a beach that you can detect from here, though.

A door in the north tower leads back into the castle.

-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-

You can go: Enter the Tower Yard <NE>, Toward the Stable <N>, Enter the North Tower <W>

Chlamash can be seen sparring with a two fauns. At then of their spar, they each bow to the other. He makes a small comment and steps away.

Bracken enters the practice area, pausing on the edge to look around.

Chlamash makes his way towards the door in northern tower and noticing Bracken, offers him a small bow. “Good Afternoon, Lt.”

Bracken turns. Clesrly he was looking for someone else. “Oh, Tarkaan.” He returns a perfunctory bow. “You’ve been sparring?”

Chlamash says, “I have indeed, Lt.”

Bracken asks, “Who with?”

Chlamash turns to motion to the two fauns he was previously sparring with. “Guardsman Hindscliff and Guardsmen Ferrus, I believe.”

Bracken grunts. “Who won?”

Chlamash says, “It was a draw. We shall rematch again another day.”

Bracken scowls. “Disappointing.”

Chlamash goes very still, his face becoming impassive. “Is it so?” He asks quietly and very extremely politely. “Indeed?”

Bracken says, “If two of our soldiers can’t defeat a single blade? Aye, I call that a shame.”

Chlamash ahs, relaxing somewhat. “I should not wish to dishonor such noble opponants having as they had offered to spar with me.”

Bracken snorts. “Well, it’s no shame to you, clearly. But there’s only a few fights where our training masters will forgive a draw that’s two on one. Fauns against a giant, maybe, or against a centaur, who’s back feet are as dangerous as his sword. Even against a pair of Mice you ought to have been hard-pressed.”

The harsh voice of a sergeant echoes across the yard.

Bracken winces. “Guess I don’t need to inform the trainer.”

Chlamash nods, “I have had many years and battles, for my father would not except imperfection in the training grounds. Perhaps in time they too shall prosper.”

 

Bracken snorts. “We wanted to practice combat it was done indoors and out of sight when I was a youth.”

Chlamash turns a curious look on his face. “During the Winter?”

Bracken says, “That would encompass my youth, aye.”

Chlamash says, “Perhaps you will speak of it sometime with me some, Lieutenant?”

There is an honesty in his voice as he speaks, that might lead one to believe that he is honestly interested.”

Bracken folds his arms across his chest, defensive. “Just what were yeh wanting ta know?”

Chlamash seems to have almost expected this, “A history can only tell someone so much, I seek to speak those present, however I see that I press to hard.”

Bracken asks, “You ever been underground, Tarkaan?”

 

Chlamash raises an eyebrow briefly at the question, replying thoughtfully he says “I do not believe that I have, Lieutenant.”

Bracken asks, “No caves in Calormen?”

Chlamash says, “I presume there maybe a great places where there might be caves. Surely amoungst the mountains or the province of Calavar or even the far rim. Perhaps great flaming mountain itself, but that I do not know. For in Calormene it is often the abode of thieves and rebels and men outside of law and those who oppose the Tisroc.”

(Missing…)

 

 

Caves