[M] Outlaws of Nottingham -IC Chapter 1

[Setsa]

This is Rated [M] for Adult content including: language, violence, potential gore, possible drugs, and good times that you may want to look away from.



'clink..clink..clink..clink'

Coins were sounding out softly in their own song as a man counted them out, dropping them from hand to join their coin brethren back in the velvet red pouch. Once carried at the side of a Lord whom was their previous master. The pouch was taken by surprise from a seemingly pour and feeble man begging at the side of the road. In perfect timing with a distraction of a dead snake suddenly appearing at the road to spook and startle the horses of the riding party.

"Heh, Little John was good at finding such innocent means to provide the ideal opportunity for such tasks." Robin Hood thought to himself from where he was sitting on a log around the campfire.

Time was all he had really now a days. Word by travelers had been sent out in that early spring for others to join him here in Sherwood Forest. A few have came by then, a few others he had recruited himself by means of a duel or seeing them in action. But even now they were no more than six men who least have built suitable housing for them and others expected hopefully. To come to their well secluded small claim on the forest itself. Living off the land...oh it had it's hardships sure. Least the villagers of Nottingham were kind enough to absentmindedly leave a basket of cheeses and fruits in hidden locations just off the road that went through. Such was also ideal means of sending and receiving messages with the aid for that Friar Tuck. Good man, though he did love his honey wine..mead they called it up north. But with it all, the best part was knowing that the Sheriff was always looking for him when ever he got the chance with his men. To leave even more frustrated than when he started.

It was early summer now, three months passing by and three months time to make sure all was ready and set up for their survival. "Little John" Hood would call out while standing up to tie the bag to his belt at the hip. The muscular tower of a man would come from around the corner holding in each hand the reins of two horses. "Time to pay the Friar a visit then?" John would say with a smile on his face, having anticipated Hood's intentions. Leading the horses towards the campfire while one other man on horseback trotted up to join them. "Good man John, yes, something tells me he would know exactly what to do with these poor lost coins." Tapping the side of the large velvet bag at his hip before taking the reins of one horse. Mounting up in one fluid swing of the leg where from the saddle bag, would come out a dark green hooded cloak to disguise his appearance. The other two men having put on the same cloak, exchanged grins to one another before riding out to pay a visit to the village town of Nottingham.


"Come one and all who know better than the Law. For the hooded man of the forest seeks to join hands. Away from crown and injustice shall it be, when few become many for the same cause..."

[KnightsTemplar]

William waited until the carriage came to a halt in front of the tree he had felled across the road earlier, an obvious rouse to bringing carriages and the sort to a stop, but still surprising at how often it worked. Once the carriage had stopped, William slipped from the overhead tree branch and onto the back of the left horse of the pair pulling the carriage, he kept the noched arrow pointed at the driver of the carriage, but did not draw back the string, though by all indication for the driver to see, it was clear he could do so in the span of time it took to blink an eye. The man and his female companion were both elegantly dressed, but not as regal or refined as a High Lord, which of course explained the lack of an armed guard, but for all intents and purpose, the driver was indeed a man of means and wealth. William smiled pleasantly, keeping a jovial countenance as he bowed from his sitting position on the back of the horse facing the driver and his female companion,

" Greetings M'Lord and Lady, tis indeed a fine day for a carriage ride, now that the rains past, the birds sing merrily and the flowers of the forest in full bloom, aye quite a lovely day indeed". The driver, having been taken by shock at the suddenness of the hooded mans appearance on the back of one of his horses, found his tongue and was about to utter protest, but was stopped short of speaking as the hooded man brought up his bow and pointing the sharp steel arrow head directly at his chest and continued his own speech. "Now M'Lord, tis very rude manners to interrupt the person holding an arrow to your chest, would you not agree?, very well then lets carry on then shall we?.

"As I was saying, a fine day for a carriage ride, and so soon after the rain and the road still wet and muddy, why I can see by the depth of the ruts left by your wheels, your carriage seems quite burdened". William now regarded the rather robust woman with an apologetic bow of his head,"No offense intended M'Lady", he said with a sympathetic tone, before turning his attention back to the man as the woman huffed and fumed at his remark. "It would only be gentlemanly of me to point out, that although you've a fine pair of horses here and seem welled cared for, still, there be no need of them to pull such a load, he refrained from making another comment toward the woman, though he had to bite his tongue to do so.

Instead his jovial demeanour turned instantly cold and threatening, his tone of voice deep and commanding, the woman squealed in surprise at the abrupt change as William fixed his eyes squarely on those of the driver, "Hand over your coin purse and be quick about it". William watched the driver intently as he fumbled to untie the pouch from his waist belt then toss it to him, William caught it then raised it up and down a few times as if gauging its weight, "A hefty sum indeed, M'Lord, I will make certain to convey your best regards to the Families this will feed, my thanks". Again he turned his attention to the woman, "And now M'Lady, that locket about your neck if you please". The Woman's eyes began to well with tears and she was near sobbing as she reached up and unclasped the locket, then held it out for him to take. William regarded her solemnly, "Cease your tears M'Lady, the price this locket will fetch will fill many a families empty bellies, left with far less by Prince John and his taxes, then what I leave you with this day".

The woman's voice cracked, despite her Husbands urge to remain still, she pleaded between sobs, "This locket was my Mothers, and her Mothers, and her Mothers before that, it is all that I have left of my dowry that my Husband as not taken, I beg of you not to take it", she managed to say before breaking out in tears and biding her face. William regarded the driver coldly as if daring him to move, then he let go his bow, reached out and took hold of the woman's out stretched hand, pulled her hand closer as if he meant to take the locket, but instead leaned forward, kissed the back of her hand then pushed her hand back gently, not taking the locket from her grasp. "If it was indeed your Mother's, then keep it, may God judge you accordingly if it is not and I would suggest you put it away someplace safe and leave it, for there are other thieves who will not be so kind as I".

William took hold of his bow and slipped from the back of the horse to the ground, still facing the driver, "Know you both this, while you live in luxury and have your fill of food and drink, the people of this land go hungry, and are left with nothing after Prince John and his dogs collect beyond what is fair in taxes, children go to bed at night begging for at least a morsal of bread to quell their rumbling bellies while the likes of you feast on venison and boar, blame not me for the taking of your coin, but look to Prince John and the unbearable yoke of taxation he has shackled King Richards people to, now turn about and be off with you". William stood back waited for the driver to start wheeling his horses around, then slipped off into the woods and was gone before the carriage was heading back the way it had come.

[ThronesFan12]

"This town smells of shite. Thomas would know, he'd practically lived in the stuff his whole life. He paused as he took the place in. The people were filthy, the women had not yet shared his bed, and ale was nowhere in sight. This place seemed to be one of Thomas's most horrid nightmares. "I say, good sir. Where may a humble man like myself enjoy a taste of ale?", he flung his question in the direction of a particularly disgusting looking fellow. The creature offered not a response, but instead a fistful of vile, ungodly substance directed at Thomas's freshly washed countenance. Fortunately for Thomas, the man's aim was laughable at best and instead the muck soared far left of his brow. Fantastic! This sod will make for an excellent exposition..

Throwing back his cloak, Thomas leaped at the man and sent his right elbow crashing down upon his jowl all in one fluid motion. With his knees pinned on the man's shoulder blades, he let loose a torrent of blows all about his face that broke bones like branches. Clearly the man was no match for Thomas's practiced fists. After he deemed the beating sufficient, Thomas withdrew and stood proudly above his latest chore. While he looked around to gloat in his crowd, what he instead found was that not one soul bothered to notice. "Look what I've done to this wretch! This epitome of verminous fop! I believe a congratulations of some sort is in order!". A haggard woman who appeared as though dust may soon fall from her skin craned her head from out of a nearby door, "Yes, Yes! Congratulations indeed, boy! You've done a fine job of boxing in the innkeeper's chops. Poor old fool, he probably mistook you for another one of John's damned tax hoarders. I don't think we could survive another payment" It seemed as though Thomas had found his source of drink. He turned to the now bloodied man, who was finally coming to. "I can offer no apology, sir, only the fact that if I am not given ample ale in a hurry, you will find steel in your teeth instead of fists.". The man needed no further convincing, and sprang from the dirt into his tavern.

A day passed, and word of Thomas's deed had reached the loathsome Sheriff of Nottingham. He arrived at the decrepit tavern with a retinue of lackeys, despicable cutthroats hardly fit to shine the Devil's boots. Entering, he encountered a belligerent Thomas, who had just finished entertaining himself with the innkeeper's wife. "You there! Might you be the scum that nearly put Gregory here in a box?". Thomas whirled about, blades at the ready. "Who's asking?". The Sheriff and his men drew their long swords and blockaded the door. In a regal manner so full of grease that you could roast ham on it, the Sheriff replied, "The Sheriff of Nottingham, defender of these people and servant to His Majesty, Prince John of England". John. Thomas recounted the old woman's words. "Ah yes, I've heard of your Prince, your worm of a bed partner John. It's bastards such as he that keep gentleman such as I in the poorest of states! Choose your words carefully Sheriff, my blades have no care for a bad taste in conversation." The Sheriff spoke, his face reddened and his fury uncontrollable, "You... I.. have.. never.. You'll pay for your insolence, I assure you! You and your master Robin-who-calls-himself-Hood, no doubt your in his service. Prepare yourself for death!" Thomas smiled, "Perhaps the rhyming word will calm his temper." Standing firm, he countered, "Sir you bellow, and seem such a putrid fellow, to challenge an honest man such as me. Yet I greet you with a hello, my mood remains mellow, for you are a coward, as yellow as can be!"

The Sheriff, screaming obscenities, launched his attack. Parry, Parry, Slash. One of the Sheriff's men fell from a swift cut to the neck. Another to a blow from the hilt of Thomas's anelace. Thomas ducked a fierce swing of the Sheriff's sword and rolled outside into the road. They dueled on, each holding his own. A feint. The Sheriff catches Thomas off-guard and manages a small nick on his shoulder, enough to draw blood. "Ha! You are no match for my skill! Surrender now and I promise I wont prolong your death for terribly long!" Thomas glanced about, searching for an escape. A cart was passing by. "Perfect." "You seem quite merry," Thomas retorted, "And it is rather scary, in a fight to see a man so gay!" Parry. "I'm afraid I cannot tarry, for my life I am wary, and do not wish to be buried this day." Disarming the Sheriff in a flash, Thomas kicked the Sheriff's legs out from under him and disappeared into the cart. Hiding under an assortment of rotted crops, he evades the Sheriff and does not leave the cart until he is safe in Sherwood Forest.

"If that sorry excuse for a buffoon hates this Robin Hood as he does, perhaps I should be in his employ. I'll have my revenge in due time." Thomas, without an idea where to go, started off in the direction of a stream he spied nearby, desperate to wash the stench of battle from himself at last.

[Setsa]

For nearly two weeks a pair of horses and riders had been traveling south from their beloved homeland. Making journey to Nottingham by means of a letter that the Highlanders had received. Keeping in mind that the Gaelic already had their own ill views of Prince John and his actions towards the people under his reign. But to rage an outright war in means not exactly concerning them was in poor taste. Least that's what the Lords of the Houses had determined. However they would give their blessings upon anyone whom wanted to go alone.

Lord Dunbar, having been one of the Lords in attendance that night, knew of Lord and Lady Hood before their passing. They were good people whom had his respect, enough that when news came of their passing so quickly together. The man had sent his condolences in letter and prayer for their son who wasn't much apart in age than his own children. It was not long after the council meeting that he after much thought, agreed to let two of his own out to answer for their people.

Now as it stands in that midday sun, Kendra in brown leather form fitting breeches, white tunic and her long tartan. Such draped over her from left shoulder across her well ample chest, to her right hip which was wrapped fully around the waist and tucked within her belt to not fall lower than her rear. Being the way they wore their family colors proudly the Scots. Was riding just into Sherwood forest from the northern road, whether by that time the other horse and rider was beside her or not at the time remains to be seen. Long waist dark red hair left free to move in any breeze that happened by. Kendra's green eyes were on the lookout, for what only she knew but no matter how deep they got into the forest. The woman held her posture upright and in strength as she was far from just a pretty face to be oogled.

At one point of time a cart would pass her by with the stench of rotten goods though looking at the back after passing. Either there were large rats or something else was a foot to make such a mess be tossed about as if something birthed from the rot itself. It was a better bet her later guess was the accurate one in this case, "be our eyes open to the one forth from the stench of yonder cart ay?" Kendra would say to the one whom came with her whether he rode along side or she merely had his horse in accompany. Her accent as heavy as any Highlanders' heard.

__________________________________________________ _______

By midday Hood and Little John had completed their visit to the Friar who thanked them well with news he'd be bringing a barrel of Mead with him later that evening as such was only to be shared with friends after all in merriment. The two well hidden in the tree tops near the road then seeing if luck for the villagers would make itself known again. There they would wait watching those go by on the road minding their own business trying best to make a decent living. It wouldn't hold much different until Hood was nudged silently by John who'd point with his chin in the direction where he caught sight of someone on approach.

"You think that be the one who the Friar was talking about? The one that gave the Innkeeper and Sheriff a time?" John would ask in very soft whispers to not give their distant location away.

The man would sharpen his eyes to look out on the road at the rider in question waiting for a few long moments in hopes of a better view. "Nay, unless he had a Tartan about that the Friar forgot to mention and the means to make any one question the man's gender. I think I recognize those colors be friend, come John."


As Kendra rode on, she'd soon catch movement in a tree not more than 20 feet ahead of her as a pair of legs would appear to suddenly be hanging from a thick branch. As if someone was sitting there, which indeed was the case as she came into closer view. Pulling back on the reins to stop her steed's momentum as the woman would look up.

"Greetings to you and yours on this fine day my friend, funny seeing the tartan of Dunbar far from home." Robin Hood would say with a charming grin on his face. Little John slowly coming from behind the trunk of the tree at ground level. "Well, your words traveled up ways to my lands that Dunbar had to honor such ties and see to it to send me. Hood it's been while since last we heard of you after your parent's death may they be resting well with all this about." Kendra would say with a lively spark in her eyes.

"Ah they be well enough Kendra, though you look better than your dad the great man he is." Jumping softly down from the tree branch to land about a yard from horse and rider. "Allow me to introduce my new brother Little John, come John. I want you to meet Lady Kendra of the Dunbar Clan of Highlanders." Looking around for a moment "do tell me you didn't come alone?" This he'd ask only if by that time Aodh wasn't at her side or in view. In either case she would give out a soft chuckle "A pleasure John, and do you think of me as a fool? How you underestimate me so!" Introducing her companion in turn where ever he was or came out from. "Surely you remember Aodh?"

"Blow me down...." Little John would say. "One day I'd like to have a go with you in sport..." Looking up and down the man's impressive stature that complimented his own. For Little John, did nothing in truth of his own hulking mass.

[KnightsTemplar]

Not having found the Friar at the Abbey or the Orphanage, William left the deer he had managed to track down and shoot while on his way back to the Village, the coins he kept to himself since he trusted no one but the Friar with his identity or that he was the one giving the coins to the Church in order to feed the poor. William made his way down the waste strewn dirt street, careful not to cross paths with the increased number of guardsmen sent by Prince John to aid the new Sheriff of Nottinghams attempts to curtail the increasing robbery of the rich within this region of jolly Ol'England, namely the Sherwood Forest area, where it seemed, by the past Sheriffs reasoning, a band of cutthroat and murderous rabble had taken up the committing of crimes against the Prince's Nobles.

It of course went without saying that Prince John was livid when news of his Noble Tax collectors being robbed of the much needed funds, and at one point had screamed in a mad rage for the head of the former Sheriff, whom word had it, quickly left Nottingham with the little of went was left of the collected taxes and was never seen or heard from again, henceforth the Regiment of guard sent by Prince John to be at the disposal of the new Sheriff. All that had been but a month ago and during that time things had settle back into it's daily routine, but now the time was once again drawing near for the collecting of Taxes, and with the increased number of guard and newly appointed Sheriff, William had a sense of dread that these time around blood was about to be shed.

William made his way to the Tavern and entered, the Tavern, and Village itself, sat to the east of the crossroads and therefore patronage of the Tavern by Travellers and Merchants was quite brisk. He found a table toward the back of the room and sat down with his back to the wall, carefully unwrapped his pipe and tobacco pouch, filled the bowl of the pipe, then used the lit candle on the table to lite the pipe, blowing puffs of some into the air till the tobacco was glowing red. He waved for the Bar Wench next, requesting a tankard of ale and leg of mutton once the buxom young girl came over to his table, she put her hands to her shapely hips and gave him that,'you got money to pay?' to look, then got quite friendly indeed when he placed more then enough silver coin of his own upon the table.

Things in the Tavern had been quiet until a group of guard came in and sat down, then rumors and questions began to fly back and forth about the outlaws that had infested the forests and when their capture and execution could be expected, the questions coming from the various Merchants in the room. Between the guzzling of ale and attempts of trying to grope the Bar Wench, the guards seemed fairly over confident the Outlaws would be caught, one or two guardsmen even let slip that within a day or two a Regiment of Calvary was to arrive, for the purpose of sweeping through the forests and rooting out the Outlaws once and for all.

William sat quietly, puffing on his pipe and nibbling at the over cooked mutton, noting everything that was said, the more ale that was drank, the more information he was able to sit and hear, he learned of when and where certain Merchant Caravans would be due to pass through and when and where the patrols of guards would be, but nothing as important as the information on the Cavalry due to arrive, such information spoken into the right ears could spare many lives and save alot of bloodshed...and anger the Prince all the more so when the news of the Sheriffs failure to clear the woods of the Outlaws reached his ears. William smiled to himself, finished his ale, pushed the plate of mutton away and emptied his pipe and put it away, he got to his feet then moved to the kitchen, not wanting to draw attention to himself by making his way through the crowd to go out the front, he slipped out the back then turned south for Sherwood Forest, the time had come for him to meet this leader of Outlaws and perhaps save him from loosing his head.

[SikstaSlathalin]

*Aodh*

The Islander has been shadowing his mistress ever since they entered the realm of the forest. While this Hood was rumored to be a fine and honorable fellow not every brigand was a noble thief stealing only from the rich and giving it all to the poor. And while him being next to her would be deterrent enough he was never one to just sit and wait for trouble to find them. He would find it first and he had actually found a couple of men that looked eager to cause trouble. They were dispatched quickly and without staining his blade with their black blood. Though his knuckles had been stained enough to make for that.

Lady Dunbar was taking good care of his horse, and once they were through the forest he would join her on the road once more. At least that was his plan before they ran into the very man they were seeking. Robin the Hood and his large friend John, at first he was wary of them. They were dressed in a similar manner as the first bandits although in far nicer clothing. His hand was on his blade as he crouched in the bushes, but as his lady introduced him, he relaxed and ventured into view nodding to the Yeomen before studying John as he himself was studied.

It was a strange way to word a compliment but the Gael remebered his lessons about the odd ways these Lowlanders spoke.
"Ay, good morrow tae ye both. Milady has been ridin' fer many days, wi' only the hard ground tae sleep upon, an' hard tack tae eat. She requires a good meal an' rest in a proper bed." He grabbed the reins for both of their horses and looked the men over waiting for them to lead them. He knew Kendra wasn't the type of lady to make such demands herself or even suffer them to be said for her, but he would set the line deep in the sand to make sure she was treated with the due respect to her station.


*Syeira*

"Gather round friends and let me see into your future." A sultry exotic sounding voice crooned from a small wooden stall in the alley of the "Braying Maid" Tavern in a seedier part of London. The air stank of bile and blood and the streets were covered in a black slime that not even the frequent rain of this place could wash away. Seated on a short three legged stool, casually shuffling an old deck of tarot cards, a beautiful dark-haired Gypsy dressed in a long dark green dress and a deep purple head scarf. The dull gold of her jewelry glistened in the flickering candlelight of her stand.

She hmmed to herself for a few seconds before a wealthy looking man dressed in rustic but fine looking clothing no doubt frequenting a local brothel or Opium Den approached her blue smoke wafting from the bowl of his bone pipe.
"Hmm such an exotic beauty such as you should be warming the bed of the luckiest man alive. I have a fine carriage and an idea who that lucky man could be."

Despite her burning desire to stab him in the throat and spill his entrails into the gutter she simply gave him a seductive smile and placed the deck on her little counter.

Keeping her accent as thick as she could Syeira responded with a wink.
"Hmm, maybe the cards will be so fortunate to you my lord. Just a pair of shillings and we shall find out." The rich man contemplated the offer then reached into his purse and pulled out the exact money and placed them on the counter besides the deck. The Gypsy took the coins and slid them into a small strong box she kept in the stand. With another smile she shuffled the cards and dealt out the man's "fortune." It was all a sham, she knew the cards through and through, everyone got the same vague fortune. "You will find love, or rekindled love if the mark was married, you will be beyond wealthy, and die quietly in your sleep at a ripe old age." This always pleased the mark and they usually went on their way. Sometimes though, they got stubborn and continued to bother her, this was such a case.

Already well into the claws of the Chinese Dragon he wanted to fulfill his promise to be the luckiest man in the world. For his arrogance he would lose more than his life, he would lose his livelihood. She let him talk her into it and gathered her effects following him to his large black carriage. It was pulled by a pair of silver horses. Oh yes, this would be a good haul. Playing the part of the seductress Syeira flirted with the man, let him put hands on her, just enough to get his blood going without making it too easy. The ride to his estate was thankfully a short one, the bastard stunk of opium and bad alcohol. Assured of his conquest the man babbled on and on about whatever seemed to enter his head, apparently he was a military advisor and spoke of a military operation in the works to hunt down Robin Hood and his men. She paid close attention to this little tid-bit, it would no doubt come in handy later.
Right now though she need to rob this guy of everything he didn't have nailed down. They arrived at his home shortly after midnight, allowing him to lead her out the Romanian was glad to be in the fresh air, what the man was smoking was beginning to effect her in a bad way. Shaking the cobwebs she began studying the area planning escape routes, back-up plans, and if she could swing it come back again later.

Following Lord Nightwood as he called himself into the large pleasant looking house, too bad it would be empty tomorrow. Eager to get his lucky man badge Nightwood led the young woman directly to his personal quarters. His clothes were already coming off as he closed and locked the door before sitting on the edge of his bed in just his smallclothes. Now Syeira had not intention of letting this man have her, but she need him to relax and fall asleep.

"Well milord, this is a lovely home. If you don't mind may I pour us a drink before we start? The carriage ride made me dreadfully thirsty."

"Oh of course my dark-skinned beauty. I will stoke the fire for us." Rolling off the bed he went to the large white marble fireplace and tossed some logs into the black maw setting it ablaze. Taking this chance the Sell-Sword poured a small dose of amber liquid from a vial she kept in her bag into the 100 year old Scotch in the decanter by Nightwood's side table.

"It is ready milord." She chuckled pulling the front of her dress open a little exposing just enough of her bosom to keep the man's attention as she handed him the spiked drink. He drank it down quickly and reached for the woman.

She went into his arms, but only to give him a slight kiss.
"Good night milord." The potion was already working as her lips left his and she saw his eyes close and signaled the promise of the best night of sleep the man will ever likely experience. As his breath became deep and relaxed The Gypsy Blade went to work. Quickly dressing in her usual clothes she began packing up and lowering as many of the lord's belongings as she could out his window. Coins, ornaments, paintings, whatever she could lift. It took her two hours, but he had cleaned out the man's bedroom and the next room over. It would be enough for starters, once the last treasure was lowered she climbed out the window herself and dropped besides her pile of ill-gotten goods. his would set her up for awhile and give her some wealth to spread around. She wouldn't be able to carry it herself though, she tracked down the man's stable and stole a smaller wagon and one of the horses.
Loading the stuff into the wagon was a much quicker endeavor. Ten minutes passed and she had everything stashed under a pile of old clothes and other goods. Many of the treasures actually looked well in place out in the open like that. Remembering the map of her escape plan she took the backroads out of London stopping by a pawnshop to sell a quarter of the goods at the wagon included, she kept the horse though. The other half she dropped off at the house of a known helper of the poor. With a few things for herself she left the big city and made her way out into the countryside, planning to lay-low for a bit.

[Proforce]

The Honorable Sheriff of Nottingham lay sprawled out on the floor of this disreputable place, letting his breathing slowly calm. After enough time had passed, he calmly sat up and took stock of the scene around. The man who'd been felled by a slice to the neck was alive; fortunately the blade had not cut too deeply and it was being tended to quickly and efficiently. No one else seemed badly injured, which was a pleasant surprise.

"Put together a searching party," he ordered two of his men, and they nodded in understanding while waiting for more orders. "Do not make a concerted effort to catch this man; but put on a good show for his benefit. He plans something, and to see what that plan will be we must make him think he has won."

Everything was running well within the parameters of his planning; just the way he knew it would. At least it would until those damned cavalrymen arrived. He had told the good prince repeatedly that he didn't need another armed brigade, but Prince John wouldn't hear of that. Of course, with the type of guards that the prince usually hired, the sheriff would be lucky to find one or two worth keeping before his "wildly confusing orders" sent most of them running back to the capital.

He regained his feet easily, scooping up his blade and sheathing it with an easy move born of practice and surety of motion. It felt completely natural to him, but what did not was the act he had just put on. By nature, the Sheriff was a proud man with a proud upbringing, born into his position in a way that none had been for many many generations. Which is why it was so hard for him to act the buffoon. But it was undeniably effective; already the people here hated him and the bandits were growing more numerous. Let them enjoy it for now; they would be singing a different tune when he revealed the truth about himself.

But for now, it was time once more for him to wear the mask. Stepping outside the Pub he cursed loudly and long, swearing over and over the pain and humiliation he would visit on those who would dare defy him, putting a few of the peasant in chains for daring to laugh at him. He detested what he had to do to keep appearances up, but in the end it would be worth it.

[Dnafein]

Tristan road through Sherwood Forest on his roan colored courser. His brown travel cloak was wrapped around his shoulders. His shield still baring the scars of his last conflict hung from the pommel of his saddle. The hilt of his lance rested in his right-hand stirrup, visibly marking him as a knight. Though his armor was neatly stowed in a series of bags strapped behind the saddle. His clothing while made of fine linen was obviously well worn. A hint of stubble graced his cheeks, and his sad blue eyes studied the four people conversing in the road.

A slight bit of pressure from his riders legs caused Epervier, to come to a halt. Tristan cleared his throat politely and said. "Pardonnez-moi neighbors; I am looking for a man known as 'Little John.' I bear a message from 'is cousin Tomas."

[Setsa]

".......She requires a good meal an' rest in a proper bed."

Kendra had to refrain from rolling her eyes at Aodh, she had rather enjoyed sleeping out upon the stars along the way here to Sherwood Forest. But, the thought of a good meal did tease in the back of her mind, a minor thing that she was sure to be sated come the evening. "It is not urgent I assure you" she'd confirm to Hood and his accomplice.

"Ah well all the same we don't have lavish establishments here, but we got simple dwellings that will least keep anyone warm and strong as a whole." Motioning for them to follow, their intentions a few minutes down the road were interrupted by the sound of hoof beats on approach. With no whistle of alarm having been sounded off in the area it was assumed to not be anyone of harm. The man being in their sights soon coming to a halt would prompt Kendra to bow her head ever slightly.

Little John would look to the rider once with a inquisitive look painted on his face. "I be 'ittle John, what news do you bring from my Thomas kin?" The large man would ask, walking slowly to the left side of the horse if it was in means of a letter.

"Be quick with it now, we can't be here all day in the open now can we?" Robin would state, weary of the lance and shield but as the crest wasn't of the England. He didn't view the man being but an odd messenger for the moment that be in present. Though the man would look up at a tree, waving slightly to then welcome a man dressed in the same manner. Who was watching from above cloaked by the green leaves moments prior "do well to see our two friends here are taken to our merry establishment and given a place to be their own hmm?" The man nodding to Robin Hood before motioning for Kendra and Aodh to follow him into the forest. Where they would make way to a well secluded area that was only found by those that lived there.

Kendra and Aodh though would be approached

[SikstaSlathalin]

Keeping hold of the reins for their horses Aodh followed the man keeping his eyes roving and his hand on the handle of his sword. It's not so much that he didn't trust the integrity of Robin Hood and his Men, the Gael just didn't trust anyone he didn't personally know. And for now the Merry Men fell into that group.

Aodh was apprehensive about all this, he trusted Lady Dunbar, but trust can be misinformed. Speaking in Gaelic he looked at Kendra out of the corner of his eye.
"Are we sure about these men milady?"

Riding tall, the hood of her cloak covering her head and eyes once more would she respond after being addressed. Speaking in their native Gaelic tongue in kind "you and I both know why we are here my Aodh." Speaking softly along the way "neither of us want to see all this reach further into our lands. If these men stay true to the cause. As well as bear us no ill means behind our backs then we help how we can."

" Do not forget what my father said to us before our departure that makes this risk worth each day."
Upon mentioning this would she look back down to him with the deep greens that smiled on their own.

The Islander sighed loosening the grip on his sword trying to force a smile back up at Kendra. She was right of course, she had a better head for trust than he. He just never liked surprises and hoped this wouldn't turn out to be the a fatal surprise. Continuing on in silence they were led down a number of windy and well-hidden trails until they reached a massive clearing at the base of an imposing oak tree. All around them were camouflaged tents, cabins, and caravan carts. It looked more like a Refugee camp than the base of operations for a Noble Thieving network.

The man that lead them to the area told them that they could take their pick of cabin or caravan that had nothing on the door. Indicating it was available for use, telling those about in their own dwellings or about the area that Kendra and Aodh came to help and were to be welcomed as any new members would. Though the approach of so many men laying sights upon the woman that let her hood rest back against her shoulders. Had Kendra eying each and everyone of them cautiously as her horse sensed it's mistress's concerns and began to pace in place.

"Aodh..."


The Gael growled unsheathing his sword spinning it expertly stepping protectively before his mistress.
"Come near wi' foul intent and Ah'll cleave ye from neck tae groin." Some of the men stopped and half reached for their weapons, others simply stared daringly at the pair. There were other women in the camp, Aodh could see them and many were pleasant to look at. But Kendra has a rare form of beauty men will always be attracted to. Strong, beautiful, and wild looking. Keeping his weapon ready he prepared himself for anything.