Robin Hood and the Barnsdale Brotherhood (IC)

[Lox]

Music

It was a warm spring morning. The sun was making its way up the sky, lovingly showering the lands in its warm rays. The gates to Nottingham had just opened, and already merchants, burgeois and peasants were lining up to get into the city. At the side of the roads sat travelers in the shades of the trees, enjoying a hearty breakfast from the nearby King's Head Inn, watching the passers-by go about their business. The guards at the gates made no move to stem the tide of the continuous flow of arrivals, though occasionally they stopped one or two individuals to inspect their cargo.

What most drew the attention of the people at the side of the road, however, was a group of carnival artists marking their arrival to the city with song and colorful banners. On top of one of the wagons sat a jester, juggling five colorful balls in the air, and in another of the carts several gypsy women were dancing in flowing, graceful motions that earned them the appreciative eyes and attention of even the most hostile guards and jealous women.

These entertainers were the first sign of what was to come to Nottingham- the Spring Fair. Two days of feasts, carnevals, entertainment, and at the end of it, an archery contest, and a great tourney between knights. It was something the people of Nottingham had looked forward to since the year before, and now it was time. Because of this, the arriving artists earned applause and cheers from the travelers sitting in the shade of the inn.

A young man dressed entirely in Lincoln green clothes made his appearance at the King's Head that morning. When asked of his name, he introduced himself as Robin of Locksley, and announced that he was in Nottingham to participate in the archery competition. At first glance, people laughed at the notion, because of his youthful face - but a couple stifled their laughs when they looked into his dark eyes, and saw passion and fire, mixed with a playful and not-too-serious smile constantly jumping back and forth on his lips.

It would be a good day, Robin of Locksley decided when he joined the companions outside the inn for a hearty breakfast in the green meadows.

[Anastasia]

The morning was upon them, and the quaint town of Nottingham was bustling, brimming with activity. No, this was not an ordinary day for the people. It was determined to be a day of joy and celebration, one that for a single moment would remove all the stresses of the world and leave them with nothing but ethereal joy. It was silly, it was superficial, but it was all they had in these unfortunate, rather dark times.

Stepping out of her abode and into the sunlight, Lady Marian looked up into the skies. There were no clouds that day, a sign of what was to come, she had hoped. Moving further into the main thoroughfare, all that she wore was illuminated. Her cloak of grey and black, hiding the dress of a similar pattern underneath it. Pulling the hood over her head she pressed forward moving down the street. Children running past, kicking up small clouds of dirty as they walked. The sound of dogs barking, brightly coloured balls flying through the air into the hands of awaiting jugglers.

Two days of merriment, it was the May fair. The highlight of which as most people knew was the archery competition. People from all over came to compete, and secretly it had been her dream as well. The Lady fancied herself just as good of an archer as any man, better even, than some. The town was buzzing with early morning gossip. Having been stopped by several who had just come from the King's head, word of a new challenger would surely spread like wildfire.

"Robin of Locksley, eh?"

The words formed on the tip of her tongue, and the corners of her mouth upturned to form a small smile. This was an unexpected turn of events. Making haste, she moved toward the King's head and sure enough there he was, a man garbed in brilliant Lincoln green. The colour of the forest if she ever did see it. By the looks of it, light on his feet, and without complaint.

[Nightwing95]

Noises were coming from anywhere. It was a night at the city of Notingham but something was disturbing the peacful sleep of the citizens. A group of people that were woken up from the commosion, or were still awake and spending their time on a nearby tavern rushed to see what happened. It was a group of guards, dragging away a man with them from a local baker shop. The door of the baker shop was broken and the old man was dressed in old ripped clothes, a hint that was clearly saying that this man broke into the baker shop ti steal.

"Please, please I beg you. It was for my son he was hungry..." the old man said in desperation as the guards dragged him away and throwed him on the cold road. Out of the watching crowd, a small young, black haired boy was watching the guards hitting the thief down. As the man turned, he met the boys eyes. He was his son Will. The mans eyes were meaning one thing Run away my boy, as fast as you can. Will closed his eyes and started running the opposite direction, as one of the guards drawed out his sword. A scream followed later. Tears at the eyes of the boy....

Will oppened his eyes. He was sitting on a bench and it looked like sleep got him. He spent the last night prepearing for his attack and he did not have much time to sleep. Will covered his face with the hood of his blood red cloak, he got up from the bench he was sitting and started walking through the crowds. Notingham was busy today due to this May fair that was organized this time of the year. And the most famous attraction was of course the archery contest. Will knew that this would be the perfect chnace to get his revenge. Sherif was a drone controlled by Prince John, and enslaved Englands people. He took everything from him...he deserved to die.

[The Lifted Lorax]

"I dun like this."

"Ugh...you dun like anythen tha's outside the forest anymore." Fenny rolled her eyes and pushed her brother gently.

"I'm tellin' ya, Fen," Hamish said in a low voice, watching Robin be...well, typical Robin, "sommat bad's gonna happen if Robin keps the way he is." He had always been, in Hamish's opinion, far too outgoing and friendly for a proper thief. It always worried him that Robin's disposition would wind them all at the gallows one of these days. Fenny followed his gaze briefly and pursed her lips.

"Aye, well...just hope he dun get ta braggin too much an' we'll be just fine. Enjoy yerself, Hamish! It's the May Fair!" She turned back to her brother and, the early sun being behind him, noticed that his face looked like it was beginning to smoulder with flame. "Duncha ever shave?" she asked in disgust, running a hand against the direction of his stubble growth then smoothing down his hair. "I know our knives aren't the sharpest, but good Heavens man!"

"Yes, mum!" Hamish swatted his sister away before immediately un-flattening his hair. "I happen to like how I look, thanks." Sighing, Fenny gave up on grooming her brother to a presentable appearance and looked out at the people already having fun. Jugglers, gypsies, dancers, all sorts of peddlers not usually around these parts. She pursed her lips at it all. "Well go on then." She looked up at Hamish.

"Hmm?"

"You want to have fun, go. Jus' dun stray too far. And meet me at the archery competition so we can watch Robin beat them all soundly." He ruffled her already messy dark hair and gave her a push towards the center of town. "Go!"

"But..."

"Go on 'fore I beat yer arse. Not too old to put over me knee still!"

"Yes, Dad." She stuck her tongue out at him before running off.

They drove each other crazy, but they were all they had. Fenella knew her brother would never take a wife until he knew she was taken care of, but neither husbands nor wives were very easy to come by in the middle of a forest nor in the noble profession of theivery. So chances were, she and Hamish were stuck with each other. She didn't mind that fact so much...most of the time. She slowed to a walk as she reached the center of town where many of the merchants were already set up. A few sweets and a new ribbon for her hair she bought with a bit of her own money she'd saved up. She didn't forget to make time, however, to spot a few who looked of a nobler persuasion and cut their purse. All for a good cause, Fenny had always called it "involuntarily giving to charity," reasoning that if it were voluntary nobody would do it.

[EvelynWillows]

An overburdened cart rumbled through the city gates; the mule pulling the load shooting daggers at every person who staggered in its way and caused it to loose momentum. In two days the cart would return much lighter and the driver much wealthier, but today the cart had been laden with casks of dark rich stouts, bottles of sparkling, pale gold mead, and smaller casks of the rich, red wines that Little Johan, or 'John', was infamous for. He had a few stacks of cheese in the corners as well, since he found that many festival goers liked a bit-of-the-nibble with their drink.

He cast a friendly smile at the guardsman at the gate and handed him a small flask of his special 'fire-brew' under the guise of a handshake. "Hello Jimmy-Boy! How's your Fannie's toothache coming along?"

The guard grinned. "She's doing great, Father. It don't hurt no more when she 'ets." He waved the cheerful monk through and pocketed the little flask for later.

Little John found his spot in the main marketplace and set up his booth. It was a welcome sight for many; the Spring Fair was made much more enjoyable by the fine libations that the man of the cloth brought each year. Few found it strange to buy their drink from the same man who would chastise them if they got too deep into their cups. They merely sent their cousins or nephews out to fill their mugs for them, and Little John was too busy to really keep track of the mugs he topped off as he collected the people's coppers and silvers.

Today was going to be a good day. He sighed happily as he looked over his wares. It took a goodly amount of time to brew the wondrous liquid courage he sold, and he was already aging casks for the next year's Spring Festival as well as the Winter Feastings. It was hard word making this drinkable mana, but...Little John sighed with joy. Someone had to answer the calling, now, hadn't they?

[The Lifted Lorax]

"Fergev me, Father, fer I have senned." Fenny leaned against the counter and grinned at the man selling ale. "Fer I have been here at thess festival fer near on two hours now an' have yet to taste yer fine spirits. Which, I'm told, are the best fer miles around. And who better to brew spirets than someone who communes weth the greatest spiret of all?" She grinned coyly and winked before putting down five copper pieces. Fenny felt uncomfortable buying luxuries like alcohol with other peoples' money and so never did. "How much of what will thess get me?"

[EvelynWillows]

Johan brushed the hair out of his eyes and grinned at the bonny lass. "Well now, I'd say never having tasted my brews is one of the Cardinal Sins, though the church would never admit such a thing." He winked and looked over her coins as he fingered them. "Are you sure that you could bear the high potency of my drinks then girl? It might be a bit of a knock-you-over for someone as slight and fair as yourself."

He patted his mule's neck and let the beast graze behind his stand as he walked around the booth to look over the lass at his stall. "Do you have a mug of your own to fill?" He flipped a coin back and forth across the back of this left fingers, making them dance over his knuckles. "Two coppers will buy you a mug two fists' deep of my barley stout or my fine red wine, three coppers for half a mug of mead, and a copper for a slice of cheese." He held out the coppers for the girl to take back. "I have no mugs for sale though, Lassie. You'll have to buy one of those for your own self unless you're content to stand here and drink from my mug on a loan."

Johan leaned against the stall and crossed his arms as he kept one eye on the girl and another out for any light-fingers who might be casing his booth. Behind him the mule snorted as she settled into a contented pace, nibbling grass down to the dirt and swishing her tail at passing flies.

[The Lifted Lorax]

"Ach! Are ya hard o' hearin', Father? I'm a daughter o' Scotland! And eff a Scot canna hold her liquor, what's she good fer, hey? Sides..." she looked over his caskets, considering her options, "fair I dunno, and slight may I be but I kin handle more'n ya think. Only one, anyway; gotta be keppin me wits about me en a crowd like thess."

Fenny carefully considered her options, because she really did want to limit herself to one in a crowd like this. Getting too deep in her cups would, at best, make her a little less aware of vulnerable purses. At the very worst, it could do her some serious harm. She was hungry from a lack of proper breakfast as she was able to pack away a surprising amount for someone her size. Considering what would go best with cheese and also what would be best for her purse she finally made her decision.

"I'll have some o' that wine and as much cheese as a copper'll get me," she said at length, pointing to the casket of wine. "Alas Father, I dun have me own mug. I wouldn't mind keppin ya company fer a while eff yer willen ta lend out a cup."

[EvelynWillows]

His laugh bubbled out of him like a cheerful brook deep in the forest. "If every foot that stepped out of Scotland was as bonny as you, I doubt that none would dare raise a sword against thy homeland, Lass. Three coppers then," he waited for her to hand them over before continuing.

"Now, I'll have you know that this here mug was a gift from my late father. It's all I have of him, so if you abscond with it I'll be without my last memory of dear old Dad." He filled the mug up with dark, red wine, and sliced her a fair hearty slice of pale yellow cheese that had blueberries mixed into it. "Tell me Lassie, what's a girl like you doing so far from home. And worse yet, unchaperoned in a town like this. Doncha have any brothers or cousins looking after your interests?"

He took a moment to sell two frothy mugs of near-black beer with thick, brown foaming heads on them to a pair of rapier-wielding townies, but all the while he kept his eyes watching the red-headed girl at his booth. Pretty girls were good at two things; gaining a wealthy husband or distracting unsuspecting louts whose purses needed to be lightened a bit. Little John worked too hard on his craft to have any profits going their own way, out of his reach.

John nodded thanks to the two jolly drinkers and turned his attention fully to the girl handling his mug. "So now, do you have a name, Lassie?"

[The Lifted Lorax]

The priest's laugh made Fenny giggle. She liked it; it was very cheerful and deep. Not like Robin's which was always playful but also usually taunting, and not like Hamish's which was at most a short chuckle, maybe a good guffaw when he'd had too many. Still smiling she handed him three coppers, pocketing the other two.

"Course I wouldn'!" the Scot feigned an offended look. "Stealin' from a man o' the cloth...tha's jus' derty! I may be poor, but I gotta kep en good with the Laird dun I? An' a lass mem'ry, too!" She clucked her tongue. "Dun got nothin' from me own parents, an' eff I ded I'd guard 'em with me life."

Fenny took the cheese, which looked delicious, and sipped the wine which was quite fruity. Raising her eyebrows mildly at the mug, she had no choice but to agree the man very likely did have the best alcohol for miles and maybe even counties around. She munched on a few bites of cheese while he served two others and watched curiously. After two years, her and Hamish's thievery hadn't amounted to much; just a little re-distributed wealth and some nobles a couple hundred pounds poorer, not that it mattered much to them. Perhaps honest work would be a nice change...

"Mm?" She jerked from her thoughts and looked at the priest. "Oh." She finished chewing and swallowed, washing the bite down with another sip of wine. She liked to make it last. "Me name's Fenella. Well, Fenny. As fer bein so far from Scotland...well, not much up there annehmore. Prence John's men're overrunnen the place. T'ain't no place fer a proper Scot annehmore, not one's unbendin' to the crown. Eff ya dun, yer dead. An' we den't have a reason ta stay anyway. Plague got me ma and sesster. The other clans got me pa and oldest brother. Weth the Englesh takin more an' more o' the land, there's more wars up there 'bout who owns what. Et's getten too small.

"So Hamish and me--oh, tha's me other brother--we came down here lookin' fer sommat better. An' not ta worry, Father. He'd never let me go unchaperoned...ever." She rolled her eyes. "He's off somewhere tha' way," she gestured vaguely to her left, "prolly spyin on me. Never takes his eye offa me, Hamish. Et's nice...usually. Eff I want a mo' to meself, though..." She shook her head and laughed a little, taking another sip. "So what's yer name? Father what? An' how d'ya come by such a fine way of makin such fine drenk?"