lethevale_mods: (Default)
Lethevale Mods ([personal profile] lethevale_mods) wrote in [community profile] lethevale2016-10-30 10:20 pm

{GAME OPENING} the old life blowing and roaring

Who: Everyone!
Where: The whole of Lethevale
When: October 31st, from mid-afternoon onwards
What: A storm, a town, and a beginning.
Warnings: TBC

The storm blows in apparently from nowhere, on a cold October afternoon. The bright autumn sunlight is blotted out within moments by thick, roiling black clouds, shrouding the mountains in shadow, and a cool breeze quickly becomes a howling gale. In Lethevale, and the countryside all around, windows are shuttered and lanterns lit, and townsfolk wrap themselves in blankets and huddle by the fire to wait out the storm. The inns set lights at their windows, and wait for a night's business - probably a poor one, with so many huddled in their homes.

Not everyone's so lucky. There are plenty of travellers on the road, and why not - until the storm came in, today looked set to be a fine day for journeying.

By the time the sun goes down, an hour or so into the storm, the lashing rain has become hail, stones of ice a good inch across thudding into the wet loam. Lightning flashes in the sky, and when the thunder rolls, it echoes against the mountains, coming back on itself over and over again so that it seems to last forever. This is no time to be outside. Better seek shelter, and company, if you're trapped out on the road.
lethevale_npc: (Oswald Johanssen (Landlord))

The Town

[personal profile] lethevale_npc 2016-10-31 09:57 pm (UTC)(link)
The Hall isn't the easiest place in the world to get to, right now. The path up from town is treacherous and slippery, and the Lethe is thundering down from the cliffs. If you're down in the town, it's probably best to stay there for the night. But the Hall is still there, if you need it, and the lamps are lit. It ought to be a reassuring sight.

It's not.

You're probably better heading to one of the inns. The King's Head is easiest to find, right at the centre of town, and its landlord has made a point of putting lights in as many windows as he can. He might as well get some business out of all this, after all.

[[OOC: For characters who have already come through the woods, or who came down from the mountains. The King's Head is the easiest place to find shelter, but you can try elsewhere if you really want.]]
insufficientjewel: (Hunted)


[personal profile] insufficientjewel 2016-10-31 10:08 pm (UTC)(link)
The weather is still fine enough when Francis reaches the edge of the woods, and he sees no reason to worry even when the rain begins to fall, assuming it's a brief squall at worst. And if it were only the rain, he would make Lethevale town by nightfall.

It's not the rain, but the lightning, that does for him. It strikes so close he can smell it, and the sound is deafening. Almost as deafening is his horse's scream, and the crash of the blasted fir tree that falls into the road a few feet ahead.

The horse rears, and Francis cries out as, thrown from the saddle, he lands hard in the mud, sharp pain shooting through his arm. Still, even half-stunned from the fall, his reflexes are sharp, and he's on his feet again in a moment, chasing after his horse as it bolts.

Wonder of wonders, he catches it - finds it shying and whinnying unhappily in a little clearing. But by that time, they're far from the road, and, he fears, quite lost.

For the next several hours, he's wandering in the worsening weather, cold and wet, leading his now-limping horse through the thick woodland. When he sees a light, or hears a voice above the chaos of the storm, he'll head for it at once, praying for a fellow-traveller who might lead him back to the road.
teratias: (05.Consideration)

In the King's Head

[personal profile] teratias 2016-10-31 11:39 pm (UTC)(link)
Waver Velvet had, by all accounts, beaten the rain. He didn't know how he managed to do so, but the plain facts were that his coach had arrived in town in the morning thanks to a schedule mix up on one of the travel routes, thus affording him time to drop off his bags in the room he was staying at and do a hair of exploring before things truly set in.

With the storm in full swing, Waver sat quietly in the tavern, his hands cradling a cup of mulled wine. He hadn't taken a sip of it yet, mostly because that meant his hands would soon lose their source of warmth. Still, the heady scent spiked with cloves and orange was a reassuring smell, far more reassuring than the lights in the window or not being alone in the tavern. There was a crowd of people and at least a few languages, and all of that went in one ear and out the other. Waver's focus was instead the windows and the world outside, watching the downpour.

There wasn't anything on his mind, nothing besides the weariness of travel. He'd go to bed soon, probably, and sleep his time on the road off once and for all. In the mean time though, he was warm and dry, and he was trying to focus on the simple pleasures of life lately.
savethetalk: (Headache)

[personal profile] savethetalk 2016-11-01 01:36 am (UTC)(link)
It wasn't that Syrenne had never spent the night out in the woods, or even having done so in the rain. However, when the weather did change and she somehow got turned around in the chaos of the sudden torrents of rain she cursed quite a bit at not having already reached the town where she had been heading. Oddly enough she didn't remember leaving the road just that the storm seemed to suddenly blow up from now where and that she didn't have a much money to her name or a place to stay yet. That had been riding on finding a job or something to hunt when she had gotten the Lethevale.

Syrenne could have sworn she had seen a lady, but the woman had vanished before she could call out. And then there had been the howl that followed shortly there after. Already thouroughly drenched she ran a hand through her hair as she let out another string of profanities about the weather.

"Won't do much good to make it to an inn if I'm already half drowned."

At least she had managed to stumble her way back in the right direction by something.

"First thing I'm going to do is get something to drink. And then something to eat, I'm hungry enough to eat a horse."

Though as the rain got colder it wasn't a good sign and she was having a bit of trouble figuring if she could bother with the lamp at all.
insufficientjewel: (Darkness)

[personal profile] insufficientjewel 2016-11-01 05:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Francis sent up a silent prayer of thanks as the wind carried a voice to his ears - a clear voice, not only the howling gale and the thunder. Squinting into the darkness, he cast around for several moments before spotting a dim figure in the rain, a flicker of lantern-light.

"Hai!" He stumbled towards the sound and the light, raising one arm and waving to draw attention to himself. His horse trailed alongside him, head hanging low, hooves dragging unhappily, but Francis himself had found a new lease of energy at the thought of company, perhaps even of directions. "Hai, here! Wait for me!" Then, because the manners drummed into him at the orphanage had never left, he added conscientiously, "...please!"
insufficientjewel: (Injured)

[personal profile] insufficientjewel 2016-11-01 05:25 pm (UTC)(link)
If Waver's travel had left him tired, it was doubtless nothing to the new arrival's. When Francis ducked into the inn, he was a mess, drenched in mud and dripping rainwater, shivering from the cold and with a large bruise starting to form under the grime on his face.

He stopped in the doorway, still shivering, to scrape the worst of the mud off his boots and pull off his cloak. It wouldn't do to start his visit by making more work than necessary for whoever cleaned up this tavern when the night was over. Once he was satisfied that he'd done what he could, he picked up the heavy-looking bags he carried, and, limping a little, headed for the bar, exchanging a few words with the landlord. A few coins changed hands, and the landlord beckoned him through a back door, to the rooms upstairs.

Around ten minutes later, Francis came over to where Waver was sitting, carrying a cup of wine and a plate of stew. He'd cleaned his face and hands a little, but not changed his clothes, and he was still shivering.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice clipped and polite, "but would you mind my coming to sit here? It's close to the fire, and I'm afraid I..." He broke off, sneezing explosively. "...I could use the warmth."
teratias: (04. Shoves at)

[personal profile] teratias 2016-11-01 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)
Waver's first reaction was to be mildly annoyed that anyone was talking to him. He was fairly sure he had the look of a man who wanted to be left alone, but then again, sitting near the fire negated all of the go-away atmosphere he had tried to create.

"You could use dry clothes," he said, arid as a desert. He looked from Francis to the nearest seat, then back to Francis without hiding his judgmental tone. "Because you'll just be sitting in a puddle, and that doesn't actually help you warm up. If anything, it'll get you sick."

It came out more condescending than intended, and Waver flinched after the words left his mouth.

"I mean, yeah, sure, but you really might want to change before hand. I can watch your food."
whofrownedthisface: (lists internally)

[for Calliope]

[personal profile] whofrownedthisface 2016-11-01 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Responsibility, is the word he keeps thinking in ominous tones, like a remembered warning delivered in a fortune teller's best sinister voice. Not that the Doctor would admit to finding the idea of responsibility frightening by any means. But here, in the middle of a storm-ridden forest, with a thoroughly enmired carriage abandoned an unknown distance behind them, and another unknown distance's worth of muddy slogging towards town left to go, it's likely the scariest thing he has to deal with, so far. It's just that he isn't used to it, to the idea that his mistakes or failings of forethought can have consequences for people outside himself. An idea that is fast sinking in, much like the wind-driven salvos of rain that keep escaping down through the leaves. This was supposed to be a pleasant trip, with only normal, healthy levels of inconvenience, the kinds that build character, presumably, in people who are susceptible to that sort of thing. It was definitely not meant to be anything so dire as this sodden trek through miserable dark woods, never an activity that provided any sort of edifying benefit to anyone except maybe poets. On top of that, he is starting to think they might have missed a turn in the road or taken a smaller trail by mistake. "I'm sure we're nearly to the edge of town," he says, hopefully believably and without obvious worry. What a horrible night to have a curse.
starlightcalliope: (troll: are yoU sUre)

[personal profile] starlightcalliope 2016-11-01 11:45 pm (UTC)(link)
If only it weren't quite so dreadfully cold, is the principal thought on Calliope's mind. She'd weathered many a storm in the darkness of her room under the orphanage roof, is perfectly familiar with the momentary heart-stopping alarm of each thunder crack close enough to rattle her bones, but at least she had been safe from the icy grasp of wind and rain, then. It is rather more difficult to imagine one leading negotiations with the North Wind when one's face and hands are numb. And when one has increasingly soggy skirts to drag through the mud.

At least she is wearing sturdy boots and a thick travelling frock, which is affording her a bit more freedom than some of the gowns tucked away in a trunk back on the carriage, but even they are beginning to get soaked in the increasingly heavy downpour, and she's struggling to keep the hems out of the worst of it. "That would be splendid," she replies to her grandfather's reassurance, striving for more optimism than she feels. It's hardly his fault that they were caught in the storm, and he must be as cold as she is. It wouldn't do to complain. But even so, "Can you see any lights yet?" She has her head lowered against the gale tearing at her droopy bonnet, fearing she might lose it and her hair along with it.
insufficientjewel: (Small smile)

[personal profile] insufficientjewel 2016-11-02 06:51 pm (UTC)(link)
If Francis was offended, he didn't show it. He just nodded, murmuring thanks, and settled into the seat nearest the fire with only a mild squishing sound.

"I'm afraid I have nothing to change into," he said, taking a small sip of his wine. "Thank God, not everything in my packs is soaked, but a goodly portion of it is. And the storm spared my books at the expense of my Sunday clothes. They're drying upstairs, I hope." Wrapping his cold hands around the cup, he smiled ruefully. "I suppose, if nothing else, this suit will dry faster from my wearing it."
teratias: (12. Breathe out)

[personal profile] teratias 2016-11-02 10:26 pm (UTC)(link)
"I suppose your books were well hidden and deep in the baggage then?" Waver asked with mild interest. Books were always worth talking about, even if he ended up being bored to death by the subject. He hoped, against all odds, that he might find a miniature library to rely on if the contents were indeed interesting.

"And on the topic of drying, I'd think not. Better to put them near a heat source overnight. How long were you in the storm for, exactly?"
savethetalk: (Really)

[personal profile] savethetalk 2016-11-03 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
Syrenne paused for a moment when the voice first cried out, wondering if they were actually anywhere near and to make out just where it came from. When it sounded like the other man was actually approaching she held the lantern back a little to get a better look before taking a few steps towards him.

Seeing him walk up with a horse she laughed a bit, looking him over.

"You know I didn't mean it literally. Don't tell me you decided to go wandering off in this kind of weather, you'd have to be half mad."

Shouldering her own back to adjust the weight a bit and keep from sinking too far into the mud she glanced in the direction she'd been heading.

"So did you get lost, or just out for a little ride?"
whofrownedthisface: (pointing in space)

[personal profile] whofrownedthisface 2016-11-03 07:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Actually, he thinks he does see a light, as if called into existence by her question. Small though, maybe just a lone house, belonging to some kind of forest...hermit. Or someone with a job involving trees. Those are all plausible. Probably not bandits; he doesn't think the area's traffic could support any, unless they've taken to robbing wildlife. Though, come to think of that, the word for that occupation is 'hunter,' isn't it. Anyway it would be worth a little robbery as long as he got to be robbed someplace warm and dry. And hopefully without any murder. That would be just today's luck.

The light seems to be moving, disconcertingly enough, blinking in and out of view. But surely there isn't anyone actually out in this with a lantern or a fire; probably just their own motion through the trees, causing the illusion. "There, look! I knew we had to be getting close," he says with some vindication. He can practically feel the warmth already, though the light doesn't seem to be getting any nearer or brighter yet. Still, what a relief, and how melodramatic all that internal worry seems now that the end is in sight. It lifts his spirits enough to set him chattering. "We may not be quite to town, but I'm sure we can spend the night there and press on in the morning. Storm like this, it'll burn itself out long before then. Surprised it's kept at it this long. Must have been corralled by the mountains, whipped up by the wet air off the river," he speculates like he knows anything about how weather works. But it sounds plausible, and that's the main thing. Establish a boundary of knowledge, that'll keep things optimistic.
starlightcalliope: (troll: !!!)

[personal profile] starlightcalliope 2016-11-03 09:29 pm (UTC)(link)
At his exclamation, she does look up to catch a brief glance of the distant, promising light between the trees. But immediately she feels the wild tug of the storm at her hair, along with an icy gust of raindrops on her face, so she hurries to keep her head lowered once more, trusting her grandfather to lead the way. How wonderful it will be to be out of the rain and rest in the safety of four sturdy walls! His explanation is a bit hard to follow, especially with the wind fiercely lashing the trees and creating an otherworldly howl above them, but it sounds reassuringly knowledgeable anyhow.

But all that reassurance and relief is shattered with the bright flash and deafening clap of a lightning strike, so close she can feel the ground shake. With a wee shriek of terror she jumps and presses close to him, heart racing and breath catching. How can such a vast forest be so oppressive, so encroaching, like something violent and hungry? "Blimey," she manages after a moment, trying in vain to dismiss the anxious tension in her bones. "Perhaps we ought to hurry? It, um, seems to be getting worse." She'd hate to be appear frightened, when they're meant to be on an adventure, but she reaches for his hand nonetheless. And it's surely only the cold that has her unable to stop shaking quite yet.
insufficientjewel: (Alone)

[personal profile] insufficientjewel 2016-11-03 09:35 pm (UTC)(link)
"Lost," Francis admitted, without hesitation (though with a touch of embarrassment). "My horse was spooked. I lost the road."

He'd clearly been out in the storm for some time, anyway. He was drenched from head to toe, muddy and shivering, the colour drained from his brown skin. He cleared his throat, shifting his grip on the reins. "I, ah, I was looking for a place near here. Or one I hope is near here, in any case - I'm afraid I've wandered a long way off-course, and fool that I am, I didn't bring a compass. Ah... Lethevale? Do you know it?"
insufficientjewel: (Alone)

[personal profile] insufficientjewel 2016-11-03 09:39 pm (UTC)(link)
That was a question Francis had to consider for several moments. How long had he been out for? Truthfully, he had only the vaguest kind of idea. It turned out to be very easy to lose track of time, when one was lost and freezing.

"A few hours, I imagine?" he hazarded, at last. "Long enough to fear for my books, well-hidden or not." He cleared his throat, considered for a moment, then put out his hand to shake. "I'm afraid I haven't introduced myself. That was remiss of me. Francis Fletcher."
teratias: (07. Grabbing a book)

[personal profile] teratias 2016-11-03 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Back to formalities. Waver had to admit, he was a little disappointed by that, but he didn't let the thought show on his face. He also wasn't quite looking forward to shaking a cold, wet hand, but he did so anyway.

"Waver Velvet. Arrived earlier, before the storm hit."
savethetalk: (Default)

[personal profile] savethetalk 2016-11-04 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
"Good thing you've found it again, though there's not much cover from the rain here like the trees there. And I must not be lost since that's where I'm heading."

She looked back in the direction where she had been heading, there were a few lights able to be made out in the distance if for nothing more than a contrast to the grey darkness of the sky above.

"Even if you forgot a compass, hopefully you remembered to pack a set of fresh clothes. Otherwise any inn might not let you stay looking like that."
insufficientjewel: (Darkness)

[personal profile] insufficientjewel 2016-11-04 05:17 pm (UTC)(link)
"I have spare clothes, thank you, ma'am." He sounded as though he was being rather standoffish - his voice was stiff, even a little sharp - but if you were to tell him so, he would have been shocked at the idea. It wasn't rudeness fuelling his briskness, so much as exhaustion. "Whether they'll be dry enough to wear after this torrent, though..."

He trailed off, with a little half-shrug. Then, remembering his manners, he shifted the reins to his left hand (not without difficulty; that arm still ached and now was growing numb with cold as well as bruising) to put his hand out to shake.

"I'm Fletcher, by the way. Francis Fletcher. And you are?"
insufficientjewel: (New dawn)

[personal profile] insufficientjewel 2016-11-04 05:19 pm (UTC)(link)
"Ah, very fortunate of you." Faramir shook the younger man's hand, his grip firm even with his fingers still awakening from numbness, and inclined his head a little. "I had assumed you were local, I'm afraid. Did you come far?"
teratias: (06. Thinking)

[personal profile] teratias 2016-11-04 05:38 pm (UTC)(link)
When his hand was released, Waver was quick to put it back around his wine cup. The man was truly chilled to the bone, to an extent that was almost comedic if Waver was being absolutely candid.

"I'm a student at Cambridge, so," he said breezily. "Yes. Very much so."
insufficientjewel: (New dawn)

[personal profile] insufficientjewel 2016-11-05 10:50 pm (UTC)(link)
"Cambridge?" Francis leaned in a little, his eyes alight with sudden interest. "You don't say! I've been there only once, to my grief, but I have always wondered how it would be to study there, under such renowned tutelage. What subject are you reading there, if you don't mind my asking?"
teratias: (06. Thinking)

[personal profile] teratias 2016-11-05 11:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Waver swore internally. He had hoped for some small level of anonymity for the day, to just be alone and uninteresting to anyone around him. But other forces would chide him for such a thought.

"Chemistry," was the reply, simple and direct. He wasn't keen to dwell on academia for the evening. Work could begin in earnest tomorrow. "Where are you from, may I ask?"
insufficientjewel: (Small smile)

[personal profile] insufficientjewel 2016-11-05 11:41 pm (UTC)(link)
"Originally, Krakow." That wasn't technically true, of course, but it was the closest thing to the truth that he knew. "I work in Warsaw now, for the most part. Though Professor Beregond and I have travelled a great deal."

It may have come as a surprise to hear that Francis was Polish; there was barely a trace of an accent to his English.

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