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[RP] Mercia's Trail Mix meets Aggnes

--Flame
"Do I know things? Alastair, honey, you barged in screaming bloody murder because we started an army and we were told to disband or get prosecuted. On top of that this is not a guard, this is what you'd probably call a mercenary army. Experience from the past tells me that this is the best time to refuse to provide names." This was the end of the conversation, for as far as she was concerned, and with a deep curtsey and a polite "Captain Williams" she made that clear.

She shook her head while Aggnes plucked the pins of her chest. "I'm keeping the fancy hat," she muttered, while protecting it with one hand. "And as per our agreement, this will go back where it came from," she said while she gestured towards the heavy bag of gold that she was still carrying with her.

Turning around she saw Bob giving her a hesitating look, as if he was unsure what to do. "Oh go ahead," she yelled to him while her hands made a gesture to proceed. "You," she said pointing to one of the cloaked figures from her platoon, "Go help him. Make sure you burn the flag, the colour has been annoying me since it got up. Next time, we'll raise the black one with the Ornated Skull again. You three," while pointing to three other people, "go through the armoury tent and take what's ours. I'd hate to have to buy new swords, they already blunt way too easily with all your sparring."

Bending over to grab a good hand full of mud she turned around one last time. "Oi, baron!" With a keen aim she managed to land some of the mud in his neck, and most on his expensive robe. "Next time someone makes you a compliment, at least do them the honour of acknowledging them. Us commoners are not that far below you, in the end we were all born naked and we will all die alone." And with those words she left the to help her men break down the camp.

((OOC. Permission to godmod Bob was given. And since I cannot make my character throw mud IG, nor snowballs for it isn't the season, the mud will be only in RP. All in good fun of course. ))

Aggnes
OOC/IG update for those watching at home: Aravis sacked as Logistics (the button failed to appear to sack her platoon). One post later, army disbanded.
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Vice Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Royal Embassy, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Wiki entry
Aggnes
Aggnes watched as all the work was done for her with a certain amount of contentment. "It's one way to get a subordinate to do their job, I suppose," she remarked. "So, while my underlings clear up, shall we retire to somewhere more comfortable? The Travellers' Rest did good ale the last time I was in there."

She wondered how long it would be before Flame found out that the coronet was only her third-best copy: the gold was low-quality plate, and the stones were glass. She probably wouldn't care, as long as it looked good at a distance.
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Vice Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Royal Embassy, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Wiki entry
Deekay
Father Deekay felt the bile rise in his throat as he heard that woman arrive. He couldn't bring himself to look let alone speak. He hoped his clerks were hard at work drawing up indictments. By the end of the month she would be in the right place - on the gallows.

Forgiveness might come later. He watched as Aggness stripped the other woman of her insignia, and then the flag was lowered. He glanced across at Alastair. They had made a good team, today. One day he would tell him. Time would tell whether they had saved Mercia.

Now came the remainder - making sure the County side of the bargain was delivered.


"Lady Aggnes, I think we have a lot to talk about. We need to fix fees and work out how we arrange things. If it is easier to move papers around in a tavern, then yes. I would offer my office in the Castle, but you might think it too close to the cells."
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Earl of Duffield Frith-Lord Privy Seal-Chancellor Archdiocese of Canterbury thx Fia
--Morea
Morea looks at Flame and grumbles under her breath, "What kind of army IS this? No fighting? We came all this way just to pack up and leave because they're afraid of getting hurt?" Shaking her head she walks off to burn the nasty green flag and make sure the spineless woman and her minions didn't try to make off with their weapons.
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Dirk
Dirk came running into the camp at full speed, waving his sword, shouting his original (and strangely romantic) war cries, and missing his left sock. He was quiet the frightening site.

He sees everyone standing around and stops short, confused. Something was defiantly wrong here, there was supposed to be fighting going on, not conversation... or maybe there wasn't. Truth is, he wasn't really paying attention to Flame when she told him to show up . He really did try to listen but he had other things to do, like sleep, so it was possible he was benign invited to a meeting of some sort.

Maybe I got here too early?? he thought, but he immediately realized just how silly that sounded coming from a man who never wakes up before the crack of noon. He asked a much more sensible question, "Am I late....again??"


Fleetfoot, played by Hezlog
As he watched, Fleet deteched a very noticable change in the atmosphere of the place. Shouders went down a little, facial expressions became more positive, at least from some of those assembled, and the green flag that had been swinging in the breeze was winging its way down the flagpole. Admittedly, some of those who had emerged from tents within the encampment didn't look too pleased, but then again, when had he ever met a soldier who wasn't looking for some action? Looking like any chance of a fight was ending, he rose to his feet, and strode towards the camp, wondering if he might be of any assistance in helping conclude the matter, be that packing away tents, or helping with the homeward travel arrangements.

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Sidney_slipper
"Wot, flag lowering already? Does that mean none of you's going to be looking for a first class Scrivener?"

He was tactful enough to leave the 'tch!' unsaid, though it did rather hang there like a tiny packet of noxious gas in a tightly sealed suit of armour.

"Normally I does a two for one on days like this - Lastillantesterment and a letter to the sweetheart of your choice but if you ain't going to be kickin' off anytime soon I can do a special price on love missals - three for the price o' two. Send 'em to three different ladies at once or the same one three times. Your choice. Though lookin' at the faces on some of you there won't be much need fer love letters. Maybe Mercian midwives slap a different bit to the rest of the country..."
--Prop
Several figures insert themselves into the general background. They look comfortable there, filling the odd gap and adding texture to the group.

The leader is a squarish sort of man with scarred brows and a nose that seems to rest a full inch closer to his face than it did when he first pushed it out into the world. His teeth are mainly his own, though one or two seem to have been reinserted with a hammer at some point. He smiles lovingly at the bundle of rags next to him and his beloved, the famous society beauty Talonneur, waves a few flies to one side and blows him a kiss.

It is the third man, who is clearly in disguise, that attracts most attention. Sacking covers most of his face and the only thing that can be seen clearly is a single glittering tooth, though he has tried to disguise it by whittling a couple of replacements from wood and tying them either side of the natural one.

Even a man with half a brain could see this was a criminal seeking to disguise his defining unitoothery.

Fortunately for the fugitive Deekay was occupied and as this is Mercia and is is likely to be some time before anyone with such high intellectual gifts happens along again.
Charlie, of the R.G.E., played by Aggnes
--Sidney_Slipper wrote:
"Normally I does a two for one on days like this - Lastillantesterment and a letter to the sweetheart of your choice but if you ain't going to be kickin' off anytime soon I can do a special price on love missals - three for the price o' two. Send 'em to three different ladies at once or the same one three times. Your choice. Though lookin' at the faces on some of you there won't be much need fer love letters. Maybe Mercian midwives slap a different bit to the rest of the country..."


A few minutes later, Charlie sidled up to the newcomer, empty soup bucket in hand. He looked like someone who'd heard about sidling but never seen it, and now decided to try it for the first time: why else would he be walking sideways across an empty bit of field, head strained round to look where he was going?

Two molehills and some cursing later, he reached his destination, and looked round Furtively (we leave this to the reader's imagination) to be sure they were unobserved by any in the immediate vicinity. The small crowd that had gathered to watch from a safe distance (safe from random splashes of cold soup, that is) applauded.

The muttering at least did manage to be muttering (mostly). All that could be heard was "....beautiful.... trade... carriage... no, six....". Coins exchanged hands.
Lizabet.
After days of traveling, Liza finally arrives. Finding the camp wasn't hard at all, she just followed the general exodus out of town to the field. Turning in her saddle she addresses her guards, riding slightly behind her. It should be just ahead. I'm not sure what to expect so be ready for just about anything, she tells them with a wry grin. Argus shoots her a glare but Ribuld merely nods, knowing better than to try to argue her out of this again. Liza arches a brow at Argus. It's not too late, you know. You can always turn around and go back home, she says in a mock challenging tone.

Da boss would have me head, I do that. Just 'cause he's not here no more don't mean I'm shirking me duty. he growls back at her. Liza ignores the small dart of pain she feels at his reminder and simply nods, turning back to see the camp, or what she supposes will be the camp, finally coming into view.

A few more yards and Liza pulls her horse to a stop to gaze upon the scene. What she had mistaken for the erection of the camp was, on closer inspection, actually the breaking down of one. Her confused gaze takes in the group of people gathered talking animatedly. From this distance she could not make out their faces but recognizes one by her flaming hair. Nor could she tell if the conversation was a friendly one or not. Biting her lip she waits, undecided.

The breaking up of the camp tells her all she needs to know of the rumors that had brought her and her friends here. But after coming all this way, her curiosity still had to be satisfied.
Oh bloody hell, she mutters as she takes the reins up again. Who wants to live forever anyways? Curiosity may have killed the cat but satisfaction brought him back. And I'd say I still have about six lives left.

Liza trots her horse the the edge of the encampment and dismounts. With a backwards look to keep Argus and Ribuld just behind her, she approaches the group. She gives them all a bright smile. Good day to you all. Wonderful day for a ride, wouldn't you say?
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{Devon Goddess of Wolves} ~ For my babe.. I need you
A random watchman, played by Aggnes
(Sorry, this should chronologically have happened somewhat earlier: I was hoping the information would have come out in other people's thoughts, but it didn't.)

There was a watchtower, on the border between Mercia and Westmorland. It wasn't very comfortable for the guards, or very beautiful to look at, but it was good at its intended function, which was providing as good a view as possible of what was going on north of the border, including a stable platform for high-quality spyglasses, and a pigeon loft. Mercia's intelligence service liked it a lot.

At the moment, the two guards at the top of the tower were trying to make sense of what they could see around distant Liverpool.

"No, that flag's moved, I'm sure of it."

"Don't be daft, that army's been inside the walls for years. General's in the monastery, they say."

"Well, he isn't now. That army's come out, and marching."

"Who's the general, anyway - oh, Aeneas? Isn't he supposed to be the richest man in the world, or something?"

"In England, anyway. Made his money robbing Chester, they say. I wonder why he's come out now?"

"Dunno.... who did he used to work with, anyway? The Corsairs, wasn't it? What happened to them?"

"Let's check the sightings report."

Downstairs, a heavy ledger was pulled from a shelf. "Rouguelaw... oh, in Worcester. Might be coincidence, I suppose. How about his wife? With him, I see. And what's her name, Aravis? Oh. Worcester, and leading quite a large group."

They closed the book. "That's a lot of Corsairs in Worcester. The same Worcester that's got an army of unknown intentions sitting outside it."

"From what we know of the general, her intentions are money, money and more money."

"So.... the richest man in the world is heading towards a general who's obsessed with money and in the same city as his allies? A city that just happens to be our capital? Can you spell "coincidence"?"

"No, but it wouldn't fit on a paper a pigeon could carry anyway. Which one's the fastest?"

(We leave it to the reader to imagine the panic that ensued when the pigeon arrived.)
Sidney_slipper
With coins chinking in his purse and a happy customer sidling away (at least it looked like a sidle. It definitely wasn't an amble, a stalk or a swagger.) Sidney felt happier.

"Alibis? Anyone need an alibi? Quite useful round about now. General alibis two a penny. Better class alibis a shilling a pop and alibis with supporting witnesses start at half a crown."

His general alibi ("He wasn't there when it happened") was always a good seller amongst those who valued cheapness above efficiency.

Someone nudged his arm. It was a scrawney man with two wooden teeth tied roughly to a magnificent real tooth. If you looked up "furtive" in Old Mother Oxford's English Dictionary you would find a picture of this man.

"I need an alibi." he said. "I need to have been in Kent for three weeks about two months ago."

Sid thought.

"For half a crown I could document the fact that you spent that time in Canterbury with Penelope, Princess of Priapic Delights. For an extra shilling she would even recollect that you had special qualities which mean she will never forget you."

He smiled ingratiatingly

The man stared back, unimpressed.
Princejohn
There's a certain sadness in the striking of a color, and John watches with silent respect as the flag is taken down. He steps aside and signals his guns to pack up. To his surprise he receives a signal in return that more riders approach. Cancelling his order he signals them to return to standing by and begins to watch the other road of approach.

Eventually he sees none other than Lady Lizabet approaching. It has been some time since they last met, late last spring and he's curious in seeing her here.

He returns to his horse and replaces his acquebus into it's holster and slips the mushroom back into his saddlebag. Taking off his helm he leaves it perched upon the saddle horn and then returns to the cross road.

When Lizabet arrives he bows cordially if not courtly and smiles at the lady.


"Indeed I would M'Lady although sometime there is naught much to be seen. That was until thou dost arrive."
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King's Hospitaler (Abayed)/ Order of Nordicorn
Lizabet.
Hearing a familiar voice Liza turns to see Lord Sutton approach. She returns his bow with a slight nodding of her head as she dips into a brief curtsy. Greetings, M'lord, 'tis a pleasure to see you again. We seem to cross paths in the most unusual circumstances and the most unlikely places, do we not? she replies with a smile, remembering the night she had come across his castle seeking sanctuary from the stormy night.

Tilting her head Liza glances at the others, trying to read the situation in their expressions. Her eyes linger on one or two faces before turning back to Lord Sutton.
I had wondered why the town's taverns seemed so deserted, now I know. It looks as if the whole populace has gathered here. A party perhaps? she asks with an innocent smile. I hope they've saved an ale to two for late arrivals?
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{Devon Goddess of Wolves} ~ For my babe.. I need you
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