Wings of Fury 2

Comète walked alongside the group, decked out in full-body plate armor and purely massive gauntlets. The whole ensemble boosted her height something fierce. She had her visor up at the moment, trudging along fairly easily even with her gear slung across her back. Noticeably, she carried no visible weapons.

Through the whole time they'd been traveling, she was as conversational as ever. The perceptive among them could see her glancing questioningly at Henri's polished, beautiful armor and brightly-colored warhorse, though she obviously never spoke up.

Rozenn has been waiting patiently these last few days. "Surely Sir Henri is just being silly about building suspense", she told herself. "Surely he'll tell us what he's hoping to do in due time."

But no. Nothing. Nada. Nil. Naught but silence and braggadocious nothings from Sir Henri the Hardhead. This is a mockery of the knighthood! She isn't even FROM this country, and she can tell it's a mockery of Chunadie! Surely their knighthood hasn't grown this dull since the days of the War of the True Violet?! Surely they aren't such fools that they charge eagerly to their deaths and expect others to follow suit!? She's grown more and more tired of this as their journey has continued. Her rosie demeanor has drooped to irritation and grumpery. Enough is enough. She's given him time to make a dignified man of himself, but now she needs answers.

Rozenn approaches Henri, her fingers a blur as she signs furiously at him.

[It's funny you call this our final approach. I am starting to believe it is going to be the end of all of us!] She punctuates the sentence with an outraged glare. [You have not told any of us what the plan is going forward. I appreciate your confidence, Sir Henri, but you owe us some sort of opportunity to prepare! I will fend for myself, but not all of our companions are trained knights. You should know as well as I do that no plan survives contact with the battlefield, but that goes doubly for a plan that you don't have! And, like it or not, the rest of us do NOT have a plan.]

She takes a firm stance, crosses her arms for a moment, and huffs before continuing.

[I am a knight of Aldenard, Sir Henri, and I have my honor. I will not stand idly by as my companions are led to their deaths. I have listened to you tells of honor and triumph. If you are an honorable man, I challenge you to show you value the lives of those who fight beside you. What is your plan, Sir?![/i] She offers an exuberant, expectant shrug to really drive the point home.

Holek is aghast. This is all wrong! Going to a battle BEFORE proper Prebattle Feast? He turns to Brom, ignoring the older halfling'simplication of Sir Henry's impending doom, with the chef puppet on his hand "Do you think that a proper feast can be held after the deed is done?".

Avag looked up ahead, then glanced back to catch Rozenn's angry signing. She had a good point. "I'm with her, big guy," he said, butting into the conversation. "We're about to watch you go fight a dragon. Great! I'm glad you're confident that we won't need to do anything! But I have no idea if you're as good as you say you are. Now it wouldn't be the first time I've rushed into a fight without a plan, I'm real good at improvising, especially in battle! But this is a dragon, not a bunch of wolves or bandits. Even I think we should probably know what you're gonna do! Even if you don't want us helping you up front, we need to be able to do something to help you if your plan goes wrong! So we need to know what your plan going wrong will look like!"

He blinked. "Do you actually have a plan? Or are you the one rushing into a battle and planning to just improvise? Because I don't know if this is the battle for that!"

The morning after the meeting Guillairme had awoken with the dawn, as was his habit, and set to work. He'd joined Sir Henri in prayer, asking in many small ways that the Gods safeguard the people on this expedition and take care of factors beyond their mere mortal control.

But the matter of a successful expedition was not one that lay solely with the gods, and so it was that before the group had assembled, before the dedication of this march to Mashele as they rode out of the city, Guillairme had bought an enormous rope net and secured it to the donkey with the rest of his supplies.

He took the rope net from Brulie now, as Sir Henri was being confronted, and quietly stepped over to Comete, motioning Grokzurl to come over as well. He did not whisper, but neither was he being loud as he entrusted the two with a particular task, offering the net up to the Armorsmith's keeping. "I do hope you'll forgive my silence on Sir Henri's plan, but he's been quite insistent that it remain a surprise," he gave a bit of a sigh. "Nevertheless, I've tried to plan ahead, so if things go wrong while he's...executing this maneuver, may I ask that the two of you assist me in deploying this?"

Comète took the net from Guillairme and considered it, feeling the weight in her hands. She looked to him as she attached it to her backpack and nodded. She could always appreciate someone who tried to plan for contingencies, especially ones that need to be created due to a seemingly incompetent leader. 

Once the net was secured, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a flyer for her armor shop and handed it back to Guillairme, as if to complete some kind of barter. With a nod, she signaled that she was in on the plan, and glanced towards Grokzurl to see his response.

Honestly, Guillairme's exasperation at Sir Henri's approach to dragon slaying does lend a bit of comfort to the situation. Grok offers a small smile in return, assuring both Guy and Comète that, "I'm always happy to lend a hand," careful to keep his voice lowered, should Sir Henri not approve of this plan.

"I'll stick close with you, madame," he tells Comète. Grok then turns back to Guillairme and adds, "Just say the word, and we'll spring into action!"

Frankly? This is terrifying. For the knight who'd recruited them to be planning a 'surprise', and his closest apparent advisor to select Grokzurl  for the task of casting a net over a dragon? Certainly a lot of pressure. Still, if they manage to pull it off, it'll certainly be the catch of a lifetime.

“Hmm, Holek. I think we should have a pre-battle feast first, give us the energy to deal with—I mean, supporting our dear Henri and his quest to be a master necromancer. Don’t worry. I got plenty of delicious snacks and prepackaged meals in my bag. You want a sandwich?” He prooffered a prewrapped thing to his fellow halfling.

Guillairme gave a bow as the two accepted. He gently grapsed the poster and produced a wooden stick from his satchel, rolling the poster around it so that it would not crease during travel. "Truly, you have my gratitude. Madame Comete, I shall look forward to seeing your workshop at the end of this trial. May the gods bless our venture, grant us strength and quick hands." He drew the mace momentarily for this, gave it a purposeful waggle, and reholstered it. It did not seem as though he intended to keep it drawn for combat--indeed, Guillairme next began to check that the jawbone he had been keeping in Brulie's packs was in good condition, and holstered it on the other hip, as though it were a weapon all its own.

He looked to the sky and said a quiet gratitude to Ramay for the weather as his companions continued with their own preparations.

Holek cautiously unwraps and looks at the sandwich: "Ahha! Cold cuts and crisp vegetables for an occasion like this. Thank you my friend! I will thoroughly enjoy this meal with you, to be ready with soothed nerves..." He considers warming up the sandwich with his magic, but realizes that would be kinda rude?

Still with this snack, he feels ready to see dragonfire... provided this is indeed a fire dragon, Holek started to doubt Sir Henri, just a tiny smidgen.

Terzi starts inspecting the area for good escape routes and signs of dragon activity.

Particularly, any trails that lead in the direction of the dragon’s lair.

Caulind was wearing some lighter fabrics today, arms showing bare as he wore a sleeveless white tunic that contrasted strongly in the day against the night blue skin. He wore a sort of long skirt thing and kept a frail fabric over his head too, keeping himself covered up a bit but looking a lot easier to move about today. The dangling sound of earrings was missing, such jewelry apparently considered not practical for these fights. His staff was routinely used to help navigate the path, taking numerous little side treks onto big rocks or spots to get a pleasant view of the landscape they traveled through.

Beyond a continuous humming non-lyrical music, he really only responded in speech when addressed and just cheerfully listened in although, some interest was certainly being shown at this confrontation with Sir Henri. There was a moment of inspecting each and every member of the troupe, like he was memorising something each of them and working out something as the humming shifted to a more erratic jazz-y sound as eyes rested on Avag and Rozenn again, a little loose jiggle of hips and patter of feet to keep himself loose for now absently.

Sir Henri looked at Brom, Rozenn, and Avag. He heard their complaints, and he seemed to soften for a moment as he prepared to speak.

Then there came the distant, booming sound of wings and a dragon's startling roar that shook them all. Sir Henri's expression shifted back to resolute courage as he reached into his saddlebags, pulling out a lasso which he buckled to his belt. Then he pulled out two more and looked back to them.

"Why, my friends, I intend to ride the sky," he grinned with a laugh. "Follow if you all wish, or don't! See to your safety! YAH!"

And he and his horse were off down the path at breakneck speeds, a lasso in each of his hands. Those who chose to follow rushed up the path after him to find a verdant mountain meadow filled with wildflowers and the occasional tree. From a huge ancient stone fortress on the opposite side of the field flew an enormous black dragon, beating her wings with purposeful rage.

"You had best come as supplicants!" roared this ferocious dragon as she approached with thunderous flaps of her wings. "Bow before me, and you may escape uncindered!"

"A TRUE KNIGHT BOWS ONLY BEFORE HIS GODS AND HIS LIEGE, DRAGON, AND YOU ARE NEITHER!" Sir Henri roared out, not slowing his gallop as he began to rise and stand on his saddle. He started to spin his lassos, and the dragon dived in close before flying overhead, bathing Henri and his horse both in overwhelming amounts of fire.

Their view of Henri was obscured for a moment as the dragon spun around and began flying back towards her lair. Then they saw it: lasso'd to the dragon with two well-thrown ropes was Henri de Montenay, climbing his way up towards the dragon's body as he dangled high above the ground. Even his warhorse was unharmed as she galloped back towards them, her enchanted caparison and armor having protected her from the burst of dragonfire.

Zaya did, in fact, feel compelled to follow, albeit at a distance. This was...

This was fucking stupid, actually. At this point, Zaya placed minimal odds on Sir Henri's survival, and frankly, rather low odds on her own. She settled, for the moment, for drawing her crossbow and finding a good rock or something to hide behind to watch the ensuing battle. There was literally nothing she could actually do to help right now, but maybe an opportunity would present itself.

Maybe an opportunity to run would present itself. But not yet.

"Wait, you're not going to- whoa!" said Avag, scurrying after Henri as quick as he could. Though he couldn't keep up with a galloping warhorse, he was able to make it to the field in time to see Henri vanish up and away through the flames, and watched him hanging from the back of the dragon. "Wow," he said aloud to nobody in particular, looking up, "got to hand it to the guy, that is a hell of a thing to see." He shook his head. "Still, we gotta help him! I'm no use while it's up there, gotta bring it down into stabbing range, or force it to split its attention..."

Casting his eyes around the battlefield, he saw the ruined fortress that the dragon had flown out from. "There!" he said. "We go in there and start tossing its hoard around, maybe it'll distract it enough for Henri to kill it! Just watch out in case it decides to go for us instead!" With that, he set off running through the meadow towards the ruin.

"Hey horsie, c'm here!" Brom said, waving a bowl of salad like a flag. "Granddaddy needs a new pair of legs!"

If the horses ended up galloping towards the ruin, Avag would jump up and hang onto the side of the saddle - climbing up if there was enough room - to get carried there faster!

Oh. Head for the ruin? That was a better idea than hiding, actually. Zaya began sprinting (preferably keeping to cover) in the general direction of the ruin! She had no idea how to ride a horse, but she'd certainly take a ride if someone offered her one. If not... sprinting was something.

"Come on. It's a dragon. You must have something to offer me. Suggestions. Anything?" Zaya said, apparently to herself.

Comète stared blankly up at the retreating shape of Sir Henri and the dragon. She exchanged looks with a few other members of the group, and then reached up, pulled her visor down over her face, and began running for the ruin. Plate mail, especially the good stuff, is always lighter to wear than people think it is, being almost analogous to the weight of a heavy blanket, and so Comète’s speed might be surprising to those unfamiliar with her. But this is where years of practice and training gets you.

She barreled towards the ruin as some of her companions found horses, a head start that would surely disappear once the steeds found their heading. The idea made a thought flash through her mind, to be filed away for later- wheels on armor? Certainly possible, but now wasn’t the time. She had a knight to rescue/tell stories of/watch die/fight alongside/sell armor to. Y'know. Whichever comes first.

Terzi was sprinting towards the ruins as well, but was using the cover of the edge of the clearing to obscure her advance. She motioned to Zaya to do the same.

As the dragon roared, Guillairme spared a moment to pat poor Brulie's nose soothingly, bidding her wait off the side of the road. She was a donkey and he hadn't tied her up, so who knew if she would heed, but that was all he had time for.

A man on foot can scarcely keep up with a charging warhorse. Slowing him down further, it seemed Guillairme had some rite to conduct, as he drew his mace once more and raised his voice more loudly than anyone here (save perhaps Sir Henry) had ever heard him speak. "ATTEND," the rich and resonant voice commanded, ringing through the trees. "THE RED THORN RIDES TO BATTLE, 'GAINST A FOE OF FIRE AND MALICE. LORD MASHELE, WITNESS HIS VALOR! LORD RAMAY, GUIDE HIS STEP!" With that he fell momentarily silent and put his breath towards making it to the field in a timely manner.

Upon making it to the field's edge, that announcement got a brief reprise, though he tucked the mace away once more. "ALL WHO ATTEND; BE THOU WELCOME, BE THOU PLEASED, PRAY SHOW SIR HENRI THY FAVOR!" And so saying, the donkey jawbone came into play, as Guillairme called up the invigorating rhythm of the Fourth Song, seeming to rest his voice for the most part as he kept it to a gentle hum.

For those who could hear the song, were near enough to feel it, it was...to put it kindly, it was lacking. At your average festival an officiating priest could stir the blood such that the even the most decisively sedentary individuals would be left feeling the allure of vigorous physicality. But this...the effect was more akin to a leisurely sip of coffee in the early morning. A languid sort of vigor, arriving almost imperceptibly.

But Guillairme never claimed to be a master of this signature.

He was simply helping to keep time for another singer.

Rozenn gasps, taken rather by surprise by the dragon's sudden entrance-- and exit.

There goes Sir Henri.

Rozenn sighs. She just... There are no words. Even for the woman without speech, this moment feels particularly wordless. This is too much. Too stupid.

She takes a seat on Gwenaëlle, gallops after the war-horse, and tries to jump onto it! Gwen does not belong in a dragon's flames. This horse appears to be well-trained and well-enchanted for this job. If successful, she'll gather up as many people as can fit on the horse's back and take off after Henri!

If anyone wants to join her on Gwen's back, they're more than welcome. She gestures broadly, inviting anyone who's interested to get on while they still can!

Avag would take the ride Rozenn was offering!

Tucking the rest of his Brom-wich into his pocket for later, Holek mumbles to Brom "canijoinyouif horsecomesback". He has seen dragonfire! Real dragonfire engulf a knight and steed (thankfully both unharmed for now)! Clearly, he must see more, and much, much closer.

"Yeah sure, buddy! Say, can you help me lure this horsie in?" Brom requests.

He has two bowls of salad and is waving them like semaphores.