Legacy of Traitors RPG

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Roryn is right. And he has been quite as hostile towards myself and Roryn as we have thought towards him. Crystal, you say you have lived many years in the company of 'such a man'; let me tell you all now that I have lived many years more than that, and most fighting. Ferethor, do not assume we know so little in these matters: the fact he is Haradrim has some weight, indeed, but that is not a 'why' to the matter so much as an 'and'. What would you have us do? Ignore the growing threat because he is an Easterling? Have some exaggerated sense of forgiving because he is different? Maybe, but I see you give nothing such to any of the others, and we are hardly a conventional company: a retired ranger, a swordswoman on the run, a lady of Gondor with a thirst for blood. Why, even you yourself, Ferethor - a Gondorian soldier who broke into the archives and threatened another soldier." Atharen's voice was quite low and seemed moderately mild as he spoke, but Ferethor flushed angrily at this.

"I was not the one to threaten him, ranger - it was you who held the left-tenant at sword, so-called 'protecter of Gondor', 'kin to the King'-"

"I am both of those things, and you know it, Ferethor," came the sharp reply, Atharen's voice rising a little. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roryn glance at him. He continued, his voice lower, "Besides, I doubt the Gondorian authorities would see it that way in your case, Ferethor - which is all the more reason we must stick together and complete this quest. Without completion, we have no explanation, and without that no forgiveness - I address this to you mainly, Ferethor, not as a hostile threat but as a warning to you," he added, his tone more sincere. "He is too young to recognise my face easily in Gondor, but that soldier knew you, I know it. He recognises you. We must complete this quest for that reason if none other."

Turning away, not wanting to continue this in case it developed into a full blown fight, Atharen nodded curtly and turned away to look over the water.

"And what of you, Atharen?"

The voice was quite unfamiliar, not one Atharen had heard at a normal volume more than once or twice, but Atharen recognised the slightly harsh tone, actually quite like his own, as the accent of the Far South. It was Carathir who spoke. He turned slowly.

"What of me, Carathir?" he said civily, his eyes meeting Carathir's equally dark ones, the latter seeming filled with zeal and smoulder and memory for the ranger...

"You did not mention yourself. The other ranger, Crystal, Ferethor, Lady Il Galoth..." he marked them off on his fingers, then clicked them. "But not you. What makes you so difference, Atharen?"

There was something vaguely menacing about Carathir's words although they seemed harmless, civil, calm. Atharen wondered if the others or noticed, or whether he was being foolish. Certainly the man had heard at least the last part of what the ranger had said, the list of their 'unconventionality' - but how much had he really heard.

Atharen smiled very slightly. "I am...complicated, Carathir," he answered the easterling enigmatically. "Complicated by anyone's standards. Little is known about me to anyone here. Trust me or don't - but when you know so little, maybe you will not find a reason to distrust me. Innocent until proven guilty, isn't that what the laws of...many people say?" he smiled very slightly, wondering if the easterling would take up the hidden message.

[Everdawn]

Carathir nodded, but in his mind he made a mental note. This ranger may cause him trouble. His loyalties to the Lady would not let Carathir take her life without a fight. There were the others too he was sure. Ferethor would surely slip and kill the pretty little woman himself if he were in trouble. Roryn would like Atharen come to the Lady’s aid if needed. He wasn’t too sure about how loyal the rest were to the Lady, he suspected their good intention, if needed he could kill the woman Crystal himself, though great with a sword, Carathir was also. He knew that would anger Maén immensely. The other two in question were Idruil and Aelimur. He suspected the companion of Ferethor was too kind hearted and chivalrous towards Maén, as he had observed for him to ‘let loose’ and murder her if he had to. Though it was a possibility that the two were here for the same reason that he was.

“I am a prince where I come from did you know sir?” Carathir said with a light hear now, Atharen smiled at the young man. “A prince of my uncle’s tribe, soon to be king of my tribe one day. “If Elessar will allow me to have what is mine.” He smiled as he walked away towards the other end of the barge.

Standing alone with the wind in her hair now, Maén watched as the shore ebbed closer until the barge struck the jetty and scribbled the last few words into her journal.

A rather unexpected trip I will say. All I have said previously here has gone out the window. I have had an experience I should wish I will avoid in future. I fear I am going mad, Yesterday I saw something I could not a seen, a ghost apparition of Carathir, but only seconds later it disappeared and Carathir appeared around the corner with the others. You see it cannot possibly make any sense. I am not missing any family members besides Lysia. I wish I had been born of her than that woman who calls me (reluctantly) daughter, they all wish I had been a strapping Il Galoth lad like the rest of my brother; And how I have tormented them so that they lament my fantastic mind and my unusual personality. It is quite strange this journey, for all my life in my mind I have remembered always that Guriel was the cause of everything bad which has happened to my family. And now I am certain. Now we must pass though Jacobe’s Run, a small rather minute town in Southern Ithilien. It could be a blessing in disguise in part that we may gain more information on our ‘friend’. There is also a family there who used to be associated with mine, you know who… But once again, any encounter with them will be most unwelcome. A lot of people have been killed before ive been here. Ive ridden and Ive for my part rampaged, and when I get to my destination. I am going to kill Guriel.


There was a quiver of excitement from deep in her body. Each step on South Ithilien soil was a step closer to killing Guriel. She had been alone at her end of the ship for the last part of the barge’s journey but now made her way to where Hittai was staring into the river. “Come now, we are a little closer” she spoke to the animal as she mounted her and rode off the barge. “Ride all, it’s not far to Jacobe’s Run!” she called.

[Kransha]

Idruil had been silent, pensive and contemplative in his unmentioned grumbling. He stared out, darkened eyes fluttering in thought, at the calm waters rippling in the wake of the barge. As a listener himself, he heard as much as he could of the fleeting conversations that went on around him. His ears stiffened as different words blew in on the wind. He sensed the same controversy that he always did, but the sight of water calmed him. It was calmer and more tranquil than the frothy, ocean’s foam around Pelargir, but still refreshing to feel a watery breeze on his face. The man of Minas Tirith allowed more memories to seep in, flooding and coursing through his mind’s corridors like more oceanic winds against his coarse-skinned face.

Soon enough, his eyes turned down as the barge stopped at that river’s opposite shore. Pulling his horse back into stride, letting it bray, frustrated and bored, he goaded the horse off the barge and onto the cold ground. His gaze turned from the dusty road to Carathir, who was not far in front of him. He didn’t like the Easterling, but that went without saying since he didn’t like most Easterlings. His prejudices were few, but he had seen too much during the last war and could never get used to looking at that face or any other’s. It brought back quelled memories which he’d pushed aside, and did not wish to live again.

“I am a prince where I come from did you know sir?” Carathir said with a light air now, Atharen smiled at the young man. “a prince of my uncle’s tribe, soon to be king of my tribe one day. “If Elessar will allow me to have what is mine.” Though the ranger looked more light-hearted as he looked upon Carathir, Idruil’s look soured as a disfiguring frown peeled across his features. Though he did not want to incite argument, he couldn’t help a jab at the Easterling. His words, though mouthed as questions, were more like aggressive attacks at the man, masked only slightly by a querying look. He tried to dilute his statement with more candor than he could show, but probably failed in the eyes and ears of Atharen and Carathir.

“A prince, indeed, how civil is the east of late.” He said, his voice first in whisper, but then loudening, “Carathir, tell me, did you see combat in the war? Though you may have made that known to others, I know not, so tell me? Is it true what I’ve often heard, that all of your kin know blood’s smell as well as they know their own? Forgive if my words are more caustic then their intent is, but it is an earnest question. During the war, the men around me would say they knew an Easterling as well as they knew their kin. I could surmise this was not so, but war can breed these falsified facts when enemies become allies. I know many who would fear to go near one such as you, and many who would cut you down where you stand.” He trailed off, his fiery tone flickering into dying embers of a murmur.

He almost instantly regretted his statement. Though he said it with a warmer air, his words were icy cold and stung. It was not that he regretted his verbal stab at Carathir, but that he regretted showing some weakness, giving in to an ancient bias which he’d thought to be conquered long ago.

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal had heard what the ranger had said to Carathir. She wasn't surprised that he would raise such a question. She made a note to watch Carathir, but to not voice her uneasy thoughts out loud anymore.

If he was truly the traitor as she was beginning to suspect then he would try something near the end of the quest when they were just about to find out the true answer that could possibly prove that it was Carathir that had committed murder. He would be wild then and they would be fulfilling the very end of his plan.

She wondered who he would kill first. She assumed it would be Maen because if she got free she could tell her family and authorities who had done it. She possed some threat to Carathir. But then again, so did she. She had skills that he did not know of and some that she assumed he had seen before. He was a man, much stronger then she and could over take her after a small fight. She knew she would be at least the second casuality.

Her eyes wandered over the group. The men could over take Carathir if they stayed together. There was a lot of pride in these men and they would have to push that aside when the time came.

Crystal blinked hard to get rid of her thoughts. She did not want to think about who Carathir would kill or when. She did not want to think about what would happen if he was successful. She didn't want to know what would happen if it wasn't Carathir.

She took the reigns to Atharen's horse and jumped up, moving backward so Atharen could get up. She looked over at the horse she had chosen as her own. It neighed softly.

"Be still little one. You have special cargo on your back. You shall be alright, that I promise to you," Crystal said softly to the horse. The horse quieted and she smiled. She hoped that she lived long enough to take care of the horse, there was just something about him that she liked.

"Let us ride and pray that we aren't the ones the vultures of these lands are searching for," Crystal whispered to herself. It had been something that her mother had said when she felt they were in grave danger. Whenever she had said it in Crystal's presence she would smile and lead them on. Crystal said it now to sooth her thoughts and fears and in dear rememberance of the mother that she loved so much that the pain of her death still cut Crystal deep.

[Amanaduial the archer]

"Idruil," Atharen's voice was sharp as he spoke before Carathir could, glancing at the man he spoke to. "Leave it."

Idruil looked as if he was about to object then shut his mouth, his jaw clenching, and turned away. Atharen suspected he saw the sense in it, even if he wanted to continue this. The ranger did not look at Carathir. You are the prince and I am related to the King of Gondor - neither of us will come to power, what use is there in bloodshed over it?

On land once more, Atharen mounted the horse deftly to all eyes but with a little less ease than usually - his thoughts and the slight unsteadiness from the ship put him off, but not noticeably to other eyes. The horse noticed though, of course, and whinnied quietly. Crystal hushed it gently and stroked her neck, whispering something as Atharen tied the reins. He glanced at her in askance, not having been able to hear well as the clattering of hooves from the other's horses covered the sound, but she shook her, looking away. Slightly puzzled, Atharen left it.

As all had gathered, they started off, Atharen and Crystal riding a little way behind Maen who was at the front, nearly equal with Carathir. Atharen was saved from further brooding by Crystal.

"What is the horse's name?" Her voice was soft and musical.

"The mare?" he replied, a little surprised at the question, then shrugged. "I haven't given her one."

"Really?" She was even more surprised than him and laughed a little. "Why ever not?"

"What place have I to name her?" Atharen replied, then grinned. "Besides, I couldn't think of a nice one at the time. Go on...you name her."

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

"What about Nauraucr?" Roryn said audibly, Atharen glowered at him, but Crystal looked mildly surprised. "Swift Fire...an appropriate name for a horse, don't you think, Atharen?" Roryn grinned, but Atharen still frowned. Even if Roryn had overheard them, he shouldn't have spoken as loudly as he did. Now everyone knew that he and Crystal had been whispering. Although that meant nothing on the surface, he was sure Roryn knew more than Atharen thought.

Carathir scowled and rode to the front of the group. Idruil smirked as he saw the discomfort on Atharen's face that Roryn's simple comment had caused, and Ferethor and Aelimur descended into muttering with themselves again. Roryn jjust smiled, and looked at Atharen with a raised eyebrow. Atharen merely scowled back and turned away...

[Crystal Heart]

Crystal sat thinking. The name came to her swiftly.

"How about Sandrina Critala Heart? It was my mother's name and this mare is just as gentle and kind as she was in life. She was a noble, strong woman," Crystal said softly, her mind drifting to a time when she use to live with her mother.

Sandrina Critala Heart was the one and only person that would have ever really believed Crystal. She would have gone to the end of the earth to prove that she was correct in any thought that she had. She would have done anything to protect her daughter from General Dorian Heart's furry. She had been her only friend and protector.

Crystal believed that she had been poisioned by her father. There was no other logical reason that could have explained her quick "illness" and demise.

"Sandrina was a wonderful woman. I believe that General Dorian, my father, poisioned her. There is no other explanation for her death. She wasn't sick normally and the doctors kept saying that they couldn't figure out what was wrong with her, but they had this look of knowing something that they weren't allowed to say," Crystal whispered to Atharen.

A soft sigh escaped from Crystal's lips. She batted away the tears that threatened to flow. After her mother's death her father had killed Arty, leaving her utterly alone in a world that had grown unbearable. The worst beatings she had ever experienced had come after that. Her mother had been the only barrier that had kept the worst of the worst of his lashings.

"Sometimes I hear her in the wind. I miss her greatly."