Post by Everett Price on Jan 22, 2016 22:56:46 GMT -5
"I assure you, I am the man I say to be --"
Everett's words, repeating themselves once more, were cut short as the knight to his left jerked his arm back further, causing the Price man to grunt in pain, a deeply guttural sound, his dark eyes wincing shut briefly; temporarily culling any further words from his tongue.
"We've seen you skulking through the woods from our outriders for two days, vagrant. What kind of nobleman rides off the road?" The derision in his voice made it clear that he thought Everett was no such man; and the damning lack of sigil on his clothes seemed to only harden the deal. It was really a misunderstanding, truly -- that seemed to be getting out of hand. And as the small band of men pushed the bound Lord forward, through the city towards the castle proper, Everett was caught between aggravation he had placed himself so willingly in this predicament, and being distracted by the state of Vanderhall around him. He hadn't seen it in months, but still -- it was changed, and Everett didn't need to think long on why. In the distance, the castle was illuminated by erratic sconces, pin-pricking the night darkness -- not the kind of blazing ring he remembered from years past. Somehow, it looked -- less. Haunted.
That would make sense.
But he was quickly brought back to his sense when his boot caught on a loose cobble and he stumbled; slamming his knee hard on the ground, unable to rely on his usual agility with his hands tied so tightly behind his back. With as just a sudden wrench, he felt one of the men lift him up from beneath his arm. Everett had a half-thought to use this moment to elbow him squarely in the face -- but, no. He intended destination was Vanderhall and the royal contingent believed to be quartering there, wasn't it? Something about the numbers of men patrolling the exterior was giving it away to Everett the caliber of the people staying in the castle now; it was certainly revealing of the situation at large.
At least he'd arrive one way or another.
This, of course, was the less than ideal entrance -- treated like a out-land hunter, like the mountain tribes that were unreliable, unpredictable; some outskirter. But Everett was simply Everett, and more importantly, a Price envoy -- or at least, could be, in this scenario. He had gone the ways of Vanderhall after departing Otterloh, with no real plan in mind but an understanding he might get better bearings on what was to head to Dacia shortly -- and, being the man that he was, took the paths and routes through the thick forest that he knew; that had always felt safer than the open road.
When they came upon him, in numbers of four, Everett had no idea they wouldn't believe he was a Price.
But here he was.
Mariette Deveraux Nicholas Miller Jean-Luc Deveraux
[OOC: Nothing like making an entrance, right? I figure literally anyone can be in this thread...]
Everett's words, repeating themselves once more, were cut short as the knight to his left jerked his arm back further, causing the Price man to grunt in pain, a deeply guttural sound, his dark eyes wincing shut briefly; temporarily culling any further words from his tongue.
"We've seen you skulking through the woods from our outriders for two days, vagrant. What kind of nobleman rides off the road?" The derision in his voice made it clear that he thought Everett was no such man; and the damning lack of sigil on his clothes seemed to only harden the deal. It was really a misunderstanding, truly -- that seemed to be getting out of hand. And as the small band of men pushed the bound Lord forward, through the city towards the castle proper, Everett was caught between aggravation he had placed himself so willingly in this predicament, and being distracted by the state of Vanderhall around him. He hadn't seen it in months, but still -- it was changed, and Everett didn't need to think long on why. In the distance, the castle was illuminated by erratic sconces, pin-pricking the night darkness -- not the kind of blazing ring he remembered from years past. Somehow, it looked -- less. Haunted.
That would make sense.
But he was quickly brought back to his sense when his boot caught on a loose cobble and he stumbled; slamming his knee hard on the ground, unable to rely on his usual agility with his hands tied so tightly behind his back. With as just a sudden wrench, he felt one of the men lift him up from beneath his arm. Everett had a half-thought to use this moment to elbow him squarely in the face -- but, no. He intended destination was Vanderhall and the royal contingent believed to be quartering there, wasn't it? Something about the numbers of men patrolling the exterior was giving it away to Everett the caliber of the people staying in the castle now; it was certainly revealing of the situation at large.
At least he'd arrive one way or another.
This, of course, was the less than ideal entrance -- treated like a out-land hunter, like the mountain tribes that were unreliable, unpredictable; some outskirter. But Everett was simply Everett, and more importantly, a Price envoy -- or at least, could be, in this scenario. He had gone the ways of Vanderhall after departing Otterloh, with no real plan in mind but an understanding he might get better bearings on what was to head to Dacia shortly -- and, being the man that he was, took the paths and routes through the thick forest that he knew; that had always felt safer than the open road.
When they came upon him, in numbers of four, Everett had no idea they wouldn't believe he was a Price.
But here he was.
Mariette Deveraux Nicholas Miller Jean-Luc Deveraux
[OOC: Nothing like making an entrance, right? I figure literally anyone can be in this thread...]