High Fantasy RP Thread

We had stopped, Caelin had flagged down some guards and taken out a writ, signed by King Uriel Palis V, which ordered any guards or soldiers to comply with our order to install a curfew, and return everyone to their homes as quickly as possible, on pain of death. With the citizens safety now handed to the guards, we set of at a jog to the source of the disturbance; the council chambers.

Inside it reeked of death and fear; things that, despite my youth and inexperience, I was already accustomed to. Corpses and blood were scatted about the room, each one only giving me more resolve to slay this evil, and finally focussed my eyes on Lord Leokul, my mentor doing the same.

"This is murder," Caelin said, "Even your own King will raise an army against you. Surrender, or we are honour-bound to kill you."

"This is justice."

Leokul paced to and fro on the dias.

"My father spent his life sat in these chambers, arguing with these old men about the fairest way to rule his province. His whole life. They have ruled ever since he died, undoing every good thing he ever did for these people. For my people."

Leokul stopped and placed one hand on the wooden rail in front of him. He leant forward slightly.

"I've never wanted to be The Lord, but these old men presumed to think they could do whatever they damn well pleased. They were corrupt and cruel. And now they have paid for it with their lives."

Leokul stepped back from the rail and stood in front of the portal.

" I offer you life, Paladin. Your apprentice as well. Turn around and leave this place. I don't care what you tell your masters when you go crawling back to them. But if you draw your weapons here, it will only end in your blood."

It wasn't until he made it back to his horse, that Marcus breathed a sigh of relief. For all his bravado, he had no way of knowing if he would walk out of that or not. That he made it back without being shot was nothing but luck as well, and he was unwilling to test the limits of suck fortune. Mounting his horse, he quickly rode off, intending to put as much distance as possible between him and that camp.

"If you will not surrender, then our code is clear. You are hereby sentenced to death, Lord Leokul Serpenthelm." We drew our swords in unison, both aware of the danger a Warlock posed. Warlocks were still feared from the legend of the first blight; the mage who mastered both demons and undead completely. My heart was in my throat, and I wasn't bound by the code as Caelin was, I had not yet sworn my oath.

I approached alongside Caelin, our shields raised to neck-height.

Leokul gave a sigh and opened his arms to the heavens. Behind him stepped out a demon from the portal. It's black leathery wings were heavy behind its back. It's armour glistened from the blood that ran off of it in rivets. His face was an ugly twist of features and it stood around eight foot tall. It breathed and a rattling sound was heard. It snarled at the Paladins and brought its weapons to bear. A great sword rested in one Han and a heavy chain in the other.

"Go left." Caelin ordered, charging forwards with his shield raised. I understood compeletly. It was a simple tactic, where the strongest drew the monsters attention, while the other delivered a crippling blow. I went left, keeping my shield between myself and the demon.

The demon leapt down from the dais and charged for Caelin. It swung its chain in a downward blow towards him as its sword came at him from the side

I wasn't watching, but I heard the clang of Caelin's shield as he deflected the blow away from himself, striking back at the demon to keep it focused. Now on its flank, I struck out at its ribs, slicing my blade through as much of the demon's body as I could.

The demon ignored the blade now stuck in its side, focusing on smashing as hard as it could with the sword onto Caelin. It swung its chain around behind it, bringing it in a whipping motion at the apprentice.

Leokul smiled watching them.

I managed to duck the chain, avoiding having my skull caved in. I wrenched my sword free and rolled, barely avoiding the chain as it whipped back around. I wasn't hurt, but my attack had been paused.

Caelin continued to parry the blows as best he could, backing his physical strength with divine magic.

The demon pushed off with its back feet as it slammed the sword down for a final time, taking to the air. It hovered around for a moment before landing on the opposite side near Caelin, now facing both of its adversaries. It bared its teeth at them both

Caelin raised his hand, a harsh light blasting into the demon's jaw, cutting and burning. To a demon or undead, such magic was like a thousand razor blades. While it stumbled, I ran forwards, stabbing towards where its 'heart' would be.

The demon twisted backwards when the blade pierced its heart and slowly stumbled backwards.

Leokul watched the fight, both Paladins with their backs now to him. He gave a small sigh and reflected on how easy this was. He drew the conjured bow back and let loose the arrow fly, right towards where Caelin now stood.

I pulled my blade out, the demon's heart visible through the wound, and thrust again. Aiming dead centre of the heart, when I heard the bow twang. I couldn't react, my sword already tearing through the demon. I turned my head, though, and saw the arrow strike Caelin in the throat.

The demon smouldered, shuddered and died and Leokul watched as a look of horror spread across the apprentices face. He raised the now again, another arrow conjured up and notched to it, and aimed it at her.

Divine magic wouldn't work on a living, corporeal being like a human, even if I could use it. I understood the fundamentals of magic. Instead, I threw the dagger from my belt, and moved to Caelin, shield covering us.

Leokul disappeared the now and raised his arm to deflect the dagger, conjuring a small shield there instead. He felt the force of the dagger hit the shield.

He laughed and stepped forward, his shield turning to smoke and the dagger dropping to the floor.

"Don't hide from me little girl. I have no intention of harming you."

I lay my sword on the ground and used my now free hand to channel a healing spell, attempting to knit his throat together, something that would have been difficult even if I didn't have to focus on not being killed as well.
"You're a criminal, sentenced to death."

"You're a little girl with no understanding of how this world truly works. Leave him. He is dead already, even with any magic you can attempt."

Leokul closed the portal on the dais and vaulted over the rail onto the floor below.

"Leave my town now. I will give you a horse and enough provisions for a day. You will not speak to any of my people on the way."

"I'm going to kill you." I said, trying to swallow the lump forming in my throat, and moved my shield to keep myself covered from him. I looked down at Caelin, he was alive, but barely. He was choking on his own blood, barely conscious. He was only still alive because of the magic I was using. Our code is that of honour and mercy, but sometimes we can't have both. No, Caelin was right. I couldn't have it both ways; honour or justice, and the only choice I could make was justice.

"You and the whole of your Order is going to try. Leave now. Tell the world what happened here today."

Leokul walked towards her slowly as she backed off, smiling.

I had to leave Caelin's body, but I backed away, keeping my shield between myself and my enemy, until I was safely in the empty street. Sheathing Sha'ele, I ran for the stables. I had to send word as soon as I could.

Leokul marched out with her and watched her run. He waved a guard over.

"Sir, you ca-"

"Make sure the apprentice gets a good horse and some food for the road, before she leaves. And then tell everyone it is safe to come out. I want the gates locked from now on. Anyone approaches, you are to come see me immediately. I am taking control of the province again."

The guard looked speechless for a moment and then nodded and ran off.

Maynas was the same as every other town in these areas. Dirty, small, quite poor, but with enough people to at least hold some interest, and settled on a crossroads, giving it an abundant trade surplus. Sadly, the residents had little to no understanding of currency or values, so the richest in the town were the traders, who practically ran the place at this point. Right in the centre of the town, the large trading post sat, dominating all buildings around it.

Megill made his way through the town, wondering where the tavern was. He'd been here many years ago, as one of his first stops after leaving his homeland, and since then the place had become... vulgar. He could see robberies, and watched as a pair of drunk Orcs smashed each others faces in. It was odd, seeing a once proud village completely crippled by misinformation and lack of education. Megill eventually found the tavern he'd once stayed in, half the size of what is used to be and missing its front door. As he walked in, a glass bottle smashed against his helmet. He was lucky nothing got in through his visor. The Elf looked around, and saw a bunch of drunkards and whores, and quickly turned to leave, making his way back into the street. He was starting to think meeting his partner was quite unlikely.

Leokul marched through the town giving orders to every guard stations around. People frantically ran everywhere and as the Paladins apprentice left the town on her horse, the gates slammed shut.

Leokul stood on the top of the wall, watching her ride into the distance. There was a guard nailing shut the council chambers, sealing it off forever. More now patrolled the rooftops and the entire town was in war state.

He turned around, to the crowd of people now gathered below him.

"My people! I have returned to our town! I have no doubt some of you are wondering why our gate are now shut. I was entering the council chambers to inform them of my return when I was met with a horrible sight. The Elvish Paladins were sent here as assassins. They have murdered out council and made an attempt on my life. I was barely able to fight them off before a few of our brave guardsmen here saved me."

Leokul gestures to the three guards he had had lined up with him.

" I have sent a raven to our king, to pledge for his support in these times. Clearly we are beset by our enemies, and our king has a duty to protect us. But I need your help too. To defend our town, to be ever watchful."

Leokul gave a bow to the people as they began murmuring. His plants in the crowd began cheering him and slowly they all followed.

Introductory
Another day at the Library of Mann. Books were read, placed on the shelf, and kept track of. Since most of populace didn't know how to write and quite a few didn't know how to read, that meant that only those looking to learn or reference something came to the library. They had maybe a visitor or two a day. Maybe. Being a librarian in such a remote part of the Palis empire was certainly not an exciting vocation. It did, however, provide steady pay. It also gave a certain young librarian the opportunity to question many Mages who came in looking for information. Nicked of Nocturium, was the young Librarians name. A well read and knowledgeable individual, he is a scholar of the Library of Mann. The only scholar in the city who has no specialization in any field and no desire to have one. Not only is he extraordinarily knowledgeable in all fields magic, combat, architectural, legal, and business wise but he has no desire to use that knowledge other than to be smug and point out the mistakes that other people make. Well, maybe not that last part. But if anything the party-goers say is true, he's not always the most pleasant of company. Always stating facts about unimportant things or inappropriate gossip about some lady of the houses. Or one of the gentry.

There was, or is, a rumor going around that he might be a lad. A man who has a taste for... other men. This rumor followed him around for a while, until enough had passed that everyone forgot it. It was never very clear who brought up this rumor, but it was a terrible inconvenience for someone who, as a librarian, had to operate in the public eye. Such a thing, should it have proven true, would have cost him his position. Not to mention his standing in the local politics and the possibilities of a future doing anything honorable. For many it is assumed such preferences are of a lustful nature, and are thus naturally despised and looked down upon.

Today, like every other day, was of the most dull nature. Though he enjoyed his work at the Library of Mann, he was growing restless, desiring for something more. He wasn't sure what, adventure, new information, new exciting news, anything would suffice. He was suffering from the naive want of some extraordinary change to happen suddenly to spice up his life.

It would normally have been a three hour ride to the next town, but in my urgency, had only taken half of the time. The horse was exhausted, so I booked a room at the inn, intending to rest and send word before I continued towards one of the messenger posts we had scattered throughout the countryside of Palis in the morning.

Once safely away in my room, I wrote my letter to the Citadel; a full account of what had happened. I was going to make my way back there as well, so that they would receive word even if something were to happen on the road.

"As the story goes, there was a place called Ozirus. It was a place of sand and stone. Where sorcery reigned supreme over the common man. The rulers of the land called themselves Ozires. An Ozire was a sorcerer of great power, a power they could increase by using the blood of another. These increases were permanent as well, but the practice of this was secret. For it was Forbidden Magic. Forbidden magic to them was like Black magic, or Necromancy, to us today. These Ozires were powerful men, and three of them in particular, were the most powerful wizards in the land. These three were called the Shadow Court, for there ability to seemingly fade into the shadows to travel about their abodes. And what abodes they had! Massive works of architectural brilliance. Only the Ozire himself knew how large his home really was. For it was was even more expansive beneath the ground than above. There was even a massive mausoleum built in one of the towns near a river. This mausoleum was deep and complex. It housed many the old wizards who were at one time an Ozire. This meant that were centuries of magical craftsmanship put into the making of this mausoleum. Over time it became a focal point of magical energy, which meant that other powerful wizards could draw upon it as a source of power. Such as the three Ozires that were the Shadow Court. In this Mausoleum, four tombs were built, three for the Shadow Court, and one for another, unknown Ozire. Now, long after these three Ozires had died, and their bodies moved to the Mausoleum and their lives forgotten, rumors began to spread that three shadowy figures walked the halls of the Mausoleum. A young boy, feeling adventurous and sure of himself went in to prove that he was indeed a brave little boy. Little did he know that the Shadow Court was waiting for someone, him, to visit them. So in the depths of this deep place, this ring of tombs, this court of shadows, the young boy went and soon stood before three great tombs, across a chasm that stretched far into the darkness, a pit whose depths had not seen the light of day since the time of its construction. He stood in wonder and gazed across the chasm at these three ominous tombs. Soon he felt a presence and noticed that shadows had begun to form on the tombs, three of them, and as he stared, more corporeal forms began to appear that too looked like shadows. There they made him an offer, one they knew he would not refuse, and on that day, everyone in that town died and the river consumed the buildings and the land that was left..."

"What kind of story is that? Thas not very nice, innit?"

The old man telling the story looked at the interrupter, and said: "Not all stories are nice. They give morals. This one for example tells us that selfish behavior leads to the destruction of lives."

"Well, wha's that all about then, wh'not jus' tell people not to be selfish?"

The old man sighed and resigned himself, not answering the man whom interrupted him.

Marcus had rode back to town for some food, the use of magic always wearing on him. While sitting at the table and eating his meal, he received a visit from an individual he somewhat dreaded......the town guard. In particular, their captain, who loomed over him from across the table. It was worth noting that the guard kept out of reach of any attack the seated Marcus might attempt. "Afternoon," the captain said, their tone measured. "You left town earlier in the direction of the hills, where we know for a fact a camp of bandits operates out of. Did you encounter them?"

"What's it to you if I did?" Marcus asked, setting his utensils down to look up at the captains face. The man's face was a bit dirty but aside from that, he was different from previous guard captains deeper in Palis territory; things were more stable the closer to the center one got, so guard captains tended to.....enjoy the easy life. But here on a town, at the edge of Palis territory, life was more difficult. Which was why, despite being dirty, the man looked capable. And in response to Marcus' comment, he crossed his arms and said "I'm asking because that group has been a pain in this towns ass for a year now. And as captain, I have the right to inquire....and expect an honest answer."

Marcus gave a polite snort and stated "I'm a bounty hunter if it's that important you know. And my current contract, took me into those hills to track a member of that bandit group. Found the group, and their leader wasn't willing to give them up. So we dueled and....well obviously I won, and here we are." The captain was still through the story, though when the truth of the leader's death hit home, his shoulders sagged slightly like a man who was free of a heavy load. "Then it sounds like you are owed a drink, for with their leader gone I can't see them being a threat for much longer."

"There's more to that story though, isn't there?" Said a young man sitting at a nearby table. The old man telling the tale nodded slowly. "So then, what happens to the boy?"

"That is a question I think you should answer." Said the old man. As he said this a pair of paladins entered the Tavern. They were alert, and went straight to the barkeep for information. They weren't loud, but they were loud enough for the old man to hear their inquiry. They were after a Necromancer, or investigating a rumor that a Necromancy lived in the area. Specifically they were asking if anything had happened in the graveyard some miles away from the town. The barkeep had heard nothing of anything strange happening in the graveyard. Disappointed in the barkeeps answer, they turned and loudly proclaimed that any with information about a necromancer in the area would be rewarded. This brought about silence in the tavern. A necromancer in the area, in the minds of these people, meant that they and their families were in danger. Some of them considered the events of the past few weeks, and found nothing within their memory of anything magical happening that was unusual. Save for the arrival of an old man in a strange coat with a bushy white beard and intense eyes. Might he be the necromancer? Though he carried a staff and looked the part of a magician, he had used no such magic upon his arrival. No, they thought collectively, no evidence or perceived evidence pointed to him being a necromancer, nor a necromancer in the area. Strange then, that the old man would get up to leave when the paladins announced their purpose.

He was eyed curiously when he stood up to leave, but none made any assumption of this being evidence of guilt. Twice the paladins were disappointed now, they left the tavern, their morale low. The streets of the town were almost empty. The night growing upon them ever late. Not even the moon, it seemed, gave them light to see with, only by torchlight could one walk the streets. Or simply trust your feet. Which it seemed is exactly what the old man was doing, walking into the night without a light to see by. The paladins agreed that following him might be interesting, as he was clearly a foreigner to this town. Wearing no garb that marked him as any resident of any of the towns they had travelled to, in search of foul magics. So follow him they did. The old man walked far into the night, stopping at what looked to be a simple camp on a hill overlooking the town. It was here they decided to approach him formally to question him. One of them having the hope that he had heard something on the road. When the paladins got to the camp however, they found that no one was there, it was empty. What they had thought were accessories to a campsite where sticks and stones and parts of a tree. In the darkness, from short distance away, they discovered that it was easy to mistake this bizarre formation of natural elements to be a campsite, and perhaps that is exactly what was intended. The paladins looked at each other, confused, and began looking for clues as to the whereabouts of the old man they had followed. One of them discovered a cave nearby, the opening was small, but they able to enter unhindered. Inside the cave they found many bodies, dead bodies with grayish skin and patches of flesh missing. This put them on alert, and upon drawing their swords, the bodies began to move and rise. They had found their necromancer, but was it the old man?

The zombies rose from their apparent slumber and attacked the paladins. They used their limbs as blunt instruments to bat at the paladins, and in return, the paladins found that their swords did little to penetrate the flesh of these zombies. One called upon his holy powers to weaken the undead that swarmed them but found his power weak, but strong enough to allow the two paladins to start doing damage. The zombies began to fall, one by one, and by the end of the skirmish the paladins leaned weakly upon the walls of the cave, exhausted by their effort. The zombies had been strong, strong enough to dent their armor and wound them with nearly fatal strikes. These were no ordinary risen dead. They decided it would be best to keep watch outside the cave, recoup their strength. When they turned, however, they found a wall of stone, like the rest of the cave, like no opening ever existed. In a brief moment of panic, they searched the atrium to no avail. Whatever entrance they had used to come in, no longer existed. They had only one choice, to move forward. Their strength waning, and their hearts beating ever faster, they moved to the next room of the cave.

Several drinks later, and Marcus found himself back on his horse and bound for the next city, where his client was waiting for word of the contract being fulfilled. He had been riding for....he was a bit drunk, so he had lost track of time, but he was willing to bet several hours at least, riding from the border settlement and into woods so dense there was barely any sunlight, slivers poking from between the leaves above.

Having eaten and rested, I set out towards my next destination, a town to the west that had a Paladin messenger post nearby. The ride wasn't nearly as long as the one to Sutrea, but it was much more tiresome, thanks to recent events.

Acolyte of Iron wrote:

The Orc wandered through the forest, winding through the dead trees and rotted leaves. Small animals scurried about here and there, triggering his hunter's instinct. Part of him wanted to chase them, to pin them and skin them for food, but he had to shake that off. Urthak was no longer a hunter, at least not one of animals. He passed by another strung up body, this one relatively intact when viewed from the front, but as he walked past the side he could get a better look at it.

The flanks were entirely stripped away, leaving gaping holes in the skin that exposed the ribs and spin. The flesh inside, muscles and organs and nerves, was all taken away leaving only the bones. There was an addition however, tightly packed dirt with worms and insects to fill all the spaces the organs once held. It was an old practice that has since died out but is still practiced by some Death Knights or effigy-makers. The face was painted with it's own, dried blood, whatever markings that were there having started fading and the face was shriveled slightly. It was doubtful that anyone would see this, unless they were traveling deep into Praxa's lands.

A short ways later he emerged from the other side, a town off in the distance which was his destination. He tugged his mask up a little more and continued his walk, rebalancing his bow in his hand as the large undead went.

It took quite a while for him to make his march to the town in the distance, but after a few hours of tired trudging through the dead land he arrived. He walked up to their meager gate and waited. A moment later an undead human came up to the gate to question him about who he is and what he wants. "I am Urthak the Stalker. I come to rest in my home and bath myself in the holy death of Praxa's magic." The undead nodded. "Welcome home, traveler." He said, opening the gate and allowed Urthak to enter. If he had wanted to he could've gone through it on his own, or simply around it as the 'wall' guarding the town was flimsy and weak at best, falling apart on it's own at worst. This was a simple town, very much a dark mirror of a farming town with graveyards instead of gardens and skeletal husks instead of smiling figures.

The jawless orc took a deep breath, his decaying lungs filling with the familiar scent of death and decay of his new home. Or, well, old home, since he has been living here for so long. He knew most of the people living here, knew their jobs and occupations, why and when they were raised. Still, there were newcomers almost every day, one new face at the very least. He wandered past them, nodding politely as he went. Nothing much was to be said here that hasn't been said already. He picked his way through the wandering crowds and entered his home, a simple building with three different rooms. The main area, a back bedroom, and another room the size of his bedroom dedicated to his magic and the expansion of it. There was an armor stand near the door, made to his size to hold his gear. As the door shut behind him, the house on a slight angle that let the door close on it's own, he discarded his simple hunter's garb and set it upon the wooden frame.

By the time that I arrived at the messenger post, it was starting to grow dark. The paladins questioned me about who I was, where my master was, and what had occured in Sutrea. They were shocked and appalled, immediately sending birds to the Citadel. I could have rested there, but I wanted to get back as soon as I could, so I refreshed my supplies and changed horses, heading back to the road after only a small meal.

As he went through the woods, Marcus kept wary, eyes trailing around and keeping watch for hidden threats. Things like wolves and bandits, or other threats that lurked in the shadows of a forest. Despite the thick foliage blotting out the sun, a breeze still swept through the trees, cool on his face as it blew by and made his cloak stir. For a moment, he wondered about deviating from the path to explore, see what secrets if any were in the wood. But what was better? Secrets that were likely not there, or a hefty pay-day waiting for him at the end of this road? He chose the money, continuing down alone.

A figure burst out in front of Marcus' horse, startling the creature causing it to rear up in panic. The panicked behaviour of the startled horse was reflective in the behaviour of the figure who scrambled to their feet before bolting off down the road swiftly, eyes wild with terror.

"Fuck!" Marcus cursed as he was nearly thrown from his horse, controlling the beast as it screamed in surprise. When it rested on all fours again, he glared at the figure, a young girl by the looks of it. "Are you out off your mind?" he demanded.

The girl continued running for a bit before wheeling round to face the rather angry figure that Marcus had now become. A ragged hood fell from her face, revealing her long brown hair and a rather beautiful face despite it being muddied. "Sorry I didn't see you!" She called back before continuing her flight, disappearing further down the road as fast as her legs could carry her.

"Didn't see?" he asked. Well she was already going in the same direction, so he spurred his horse on and caught up to her. "What in the blazes are you running from?"

She looked up at him and trembled, her hands gripping a small stone as if she meant to throw it at him. "Swear by your gods and I will tell you." The elf informed him, her voice etched with fear, she kept casting wild glances around, fearful of what horrors lay out there.

"Swear what?" Marcus asked, clearly confused. "You nearly run into my horse, you run away looking like a demons after you, and then tell me to swear something without telling me what? What is going on?"

Just then the elf heard a noise in the undergrowth and bolted into the wood behind her fearfully like a startled rabbit. It would be difficult for anyone to follow her whilst mounted on a horse, but not impossible.

Whatever had her scared was close by, if the noise and her reaction told Marcus anything. Turning his horse and kicking it, he went after her and followed, leaning in close to his horse to avoid any branches. "Stop, what is going on!?" he shouted.

She tried to evade him in the trees but stumbled over a hidden root and fell onto her back, winding herself. By the time the elf recovered he would have easily of caught up. "Slavers! Orcs!" She scrambled back in the leaf litter till her back hit a trunk. "Please kill me I don't want to go back to them! Please!" The elf begged looking up at him with big, imploring eyes.

Orc slavers? Dammit, this is not good, Marcus thought. If they were on her tail, he didn't have a lot of time to decide, so he acted. "Take my hand," he said, reaching out to her. "Or we're both going to be taken."

Seeing as how she had no option the elf reached up and grasped his hand. "Okay yes! Lets!" She declared excitedly. The elf wanted to escape the Orcs, escaping from them meant taking any port in the storm. Besides, they could escape faster on a horse than she could run.

Pulling her up, Marcus pulled the elf-girl to sit in front of him on the saddle and spurred his horse into action, galloping away. They up along the road while still n the woods before bursting back out and galloping away from....whatever was chasing her.

The elf held onto the horse tightly, feeling trapped on between him and the horse. Her heart pumped fearfully, fear that the Orcs might catch them and fear that her rescuer would turn out to not be her rescuer at all.
"I'm Taionia." She called out to him, her words torn away by the wind so the elf doubted that he heard her. She was afraid to repeat them unless the Slavers heard them and gave chase.

Unable to respond, Marcus continued to hold onto the reigns as the horse continued its gallop. They gained distance between themselves and where they met, and he risked a look behind. No one followed, so for the moment they were safe. Slowing his horse to a trot, Marcus sighed in relief and said "Taionia, I am Marcus. You were being chased by slavers?"

So Marcus had heard her? Well that saved on her having to repeat herself. "Yes sir... I'm an escapee." She admitted rather reluctantly, the elf preferring the term free elf to free slave or former slave. It had been a masterful plan, years in the planning, everything went off perfectly, save for the Orcs almost catching up to her. That really hadn't been part of her masterful plan.
"Sorry for startling thee earlier... They had almost managed to complete catch up." For a moment one would have been mistaken if they thought she was apologising to Marcus, no her words were being said to the horse, who she scratched behind the ear, till it gave a snort of happiness.