The summer months have settled in the South, but the snows are forever present in the forgotten vales and untamed wilds of the North - just merely less in these months. What stands as monument to man's stubborn pride soon falls, forgotten to the elements with enough time. The March of Aviaron, outpost and first watch of the Duchy of Nightgold, is one of the oldest bastions of such brazen engineering in the entirety of the compact. Its antiquity is scarcely disputed, though its legends of tunnels and mines underneath are prone to wild speculation and rumor. Its riches? Even moreso.

At the furthermost edge of the March's borders stands a single tower only two stories tall, its edifice crumbling due to countless ages of battles and the winds that whip up through this mountain pass. Speckled with snow, a tree juts out of its roof and with five branches seems to beckon to them as our weary travelers look up from their end of the path - a good walk aways.

The journey North had passed without much incident, this trip being moreso a pleasure stroll to humor the superstitions of the farmers and tradesmen that stopped taking this path. Wheels would break on carts, horses losing shoes, and other tricksy sort of nuisances were all that happened at first - or what was reported. It isn't until they are a day's ride away that the rumors grew darker, of snapping noises and livestock gone missing. One woman even claimed that her second cousin's brother in law, twice removed had vanished that way. When asked if she was concerned, the old bag spits on the ground at their feet and rather accuses, "No, it's 'em causin' the trouble. Always looked funny..." before waddling away. She never did give a name, but now here they are a walk away from the decaying tower ushering them forward.

((Feel free to pose the general getting up here and starting stuff if you wish, but for you all trying to be wary or not walk into a tree, @check perception + survival for me at 20))

Percephon checked perception + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 7 lower.

Mydas is not an explorer nor a warrior, but he IS the Marquis of Aviaron and thus, though it may indeed be only superstitious farmers jumping at their own shadows, the nobleman is present to see for himself. He was pleasant to the others during the trip, ever polite, if rarely smiling. Not the warmest of man, as might be expected from one of the mountain men. Their encounter with the old woman leaves Mydas without much reaction, apparently unconcerned at her reaction. Indeed, his golden eyes are rather taken to the tracks around them, and the path that is made from them. "There should be more people traveling through here than this. Even at this time of the year, or rather especially so." he remarks to the others, frowning.

Walking along, sometimes riding. Horses are only another thing that irritates his allergies. He keeps his interactions short and polite with the others, with a decent dose of wry humor when it's appropriate. Mostly content to study the landscape. Percephon has been taking notes of the various rumors that they acquire on the travel North. From the odd turns of luck, to the other suspicious mishaps. It's kept him distracted. So, it's not at all a surprise when he stomps right into the middle of a puddle -- and his immediate concern is to keep the water from his notebook. But, it's a strange thing. Because it's a puddle that hasn't been iced over.

Brianna checked perception + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 2 higher.

Killian has ridden a massive black destrier on the journey up, the horse seeming to relish in the opportunity to get out, a pony with the Paladin's armor and gear following behind. He's dressed in what could only be called 'Explorers Society' style, a somewhat run down and shabby looking outfit that is clearly for traveling. He keeps his hood up mostly, after all, that stark white hair tends to stand out sometimes, but has come along and been cheerful and helpful in what ways he could. For a fellow from the Grey Forest, he seems to know traveling well, and if stories around the camp fire have occurred, he does seem quite traveled, having spent years outside of Arx and the Grey Forest it seems. He doesn't tend to take the front in things, after all, he's a foreign noble in these lands. He does however always seem to have his eyes and ears open.

Brianna is riding a an ordinary buckskin mountain pony, some packs on the sides and on herself she wears a heavy fur cloak. "At least we're no longer sweating. That's the problem about Arx, you can't get out of that heat." she says, keeping her eyes and ears alert. Something though causes her to lift a brow and she raises a hand in the air, "Anyone hear that?" she asks.

Killian considers for a moment, "sounds like someone singing a nursery rhyme or something up onward a bit," he asks quietly as he looks towards Brianna, as though to check and see if it's what she meant. He looks around then and asks, "Marquis, I haven't been up this particular way that I can recall," he says quietly, "but I wonder if there are strange weather patterns in this region." He points towards the trees, which are heavily laden with snow that hasn't fallen from their branches. "Most of the trees at the foot of the pass and along the way, this wind has knocked the snow out of the trees..but it seems to cling rather stubbornly here despite the wind?"

Kieran is riding a brown mare alongside his companions and wears his usual simple garb with a focus on furs to keep warm. He looks to Brianna at her comment on the cold and grins, "What's wrong with a good sweat?" Her question earns a shake of his head, "Hear what?" before he begins looking around.

"What are we expecting to hear?" Percephon asks Brianna, pausing in his question to listen as Killian supplies answers that offer answers while raising more questions. He glances up, dark eyes peering over the rims of his eyeglasses to study the trees still weighed down by snow. His lips purse and he slows down considerably, "Curious."

"I don't hear it, but that doesn't mean it can't be out there." Mydas remarks to Brianna before focusing on Killian, and what he points out. "Mountain weather can't account for oddities such as this, lest the snow was frozen over by freezing rain. But if it's warm enough for water to remain unfrozen..." he points to Percephon's puddle. "Then by all accounts the snow should be melting as well."

Kieran checked perception + survival at difficulty 20, rolling 7 lower.

(400 They can all hear it now, wind stirring the trees and carrying the singsong towards them, laughter bubbling before being interrupted with a croaking cough. It is just a small walk beyond, its source through a thicket of trees just off the path and between them and the tower. Another singsong carries to their ears and then all the snow from the branches behind them is sent crashing to the ground, despite the lack of a howling wind.

They can all hear it now, wind stirring the trees and carrying the singsong towards them, laughter bubbling before being interrupted with a croaking cough. It is just a small walk beyond, its source through a thicket of trees just off the path and between them and the tower. Another singsong carries to their ears and then all the snow from the branches behind them is sent crashing to the ground, despite the lack of a howling wind.

Brianna gestures over towards the north. "Can you hear that ..gurgling? It isn't the river, it's like...I don't know. Someone laughing, mocking us." as she frowns. Yeah, she really hears it now and she instinctively slips off her horse to hold its reins in one hand while unfastening and grabbing her axe off her shoulder with the other hand. "That noise."

The wind carries that strange sing-song, and Percephon can hear it clearly. Or, he thinks he can. Tilting his head in some kind of attempt to discern words. Trying to figure out the context of the rhyme or taunt, although, when the snow from the branches suddenly falls he moves to avoid it. Poorly. He catches a decent amount of snow falling across his shoulders and he inaudibly grumbles as he brushes himself off.

Kieran is likely the last to hear it as he is busy staring in the opposite direction when the laughter catches his ear. His head swivels to see the snow fall from the trees and the prince quirks his lips and raises his eyebrows. "Alright then. Not sure what's so funny about snow, but maybe we can ask the trees to let us in on the joke." He glances between his partners to see their reactions and waits for their thoughts.

"Well, needless to say, that is /not/ common mountain weather." Mydas remarks with a rather flat voice. "Very well, let's see what's waiting ahead." And the Marquis, who is neither explorer nor warrior, walks straight ahead towards the source of all that noise.

Killian reaches up and pushes his hood back, opening his mouth as though to say something. He stops though, and with his mouth still open, his face certainly has a strange expression on it. It's as though he's looking off into the distance but seeing nothing around him, as his eyes search to the left and then right again. A moment later he frowns, as he slides off of his horse and reaches to loosen his swords in their scabbard. "Be on your guard," he says, "something here hungers with a dreadful need, as though it has starved through the winter and awakens now ravenous to the spring..and we are likely the nearest palatable morsels."

At the thicket's break they are met with the bank of a brook, half frozen on their side and running on the opposite. It could easily be hopped by a horse, with a running good start, but the density of trees behind them prevents such an easy answer.

Flat stones and boulders line the shore across and with his back turned to them, an elder squats and sees to his washing. A basket, its lid closed, is beside him and he mutters and croons to himself, steadfast in his work as he scrubs something against his perch of stone.

A matted mop of grays and blacks is sparse across his balding head, combed over in a vain attempt to hide the liver spots speckling his cranium. His ears poke out comically, lobes long and almost at level with the line of his jaw. From where he squats it seems that he has long limbs, spindly with knees rising to his ears where he crouches. It doesn't seem like he would rise any taller than 4 feet where he to stand. Still, for that slight of build and parchment white skin hanging loosely off of his skeletal frame, he wears heavy steel boots and keeps a poleaxe leaned against the crook of his elbow as he works. A loose leather tunic, tied off at the waist with a length of rope, hides whatever muscle his torso and legs surely don't have. For now, it doesn't seem he notices them.

From the tower none too far now comes the sound of a woman's laughter, echoing off the stones before being cut off abruptly before the melody can reach its natural decrescendo.

Kieran dismounts and starts to lead his horse, following Mydas into the thicket. Taking in the scene beyond, he pauses and cocks his head slightly to the side. "Huh. More laughter but I still don't get the joke." The redhaired prince nudges Mydas with his elbow. "Maybe the man doing his laundry in an almost frozen over stream got the joke. Think we should ask?" Because the man doesn't stand out as odd at all.

Brianna looks to Killian as they make their way onwards, "I'll be damned if I'm going to be someone's morsel." she replies, keeping that axe in hand as she's leading her pony from the ground. The old boney guy is given a look of suspicion as she points her axe his way, "I don't suppose you all want to go talk with him about dinner do you? He's a bit..." and makes a motion of what might be thought of as weird. "He's not even reacting to the laughter, either he's so old he can't hear or he knows who is laughing. Either way, he's creepy."

Cautious, never foolhardy -- Percephon scrambles atop the placid, flea-bitten gray pony that he has been loaned for this trip -- and on horseback, man and beast plod behind the rest of the group. Allowing axes and swords to take the lead, he comments dryly: "I'm all sinew. Completely inedible." As they near the brook at the thicket's edge, he wobbily dismounts and nods. "Asking questions are /usually/ helpful."

Killian ties his horse off loosely on the way into the thicket, and then follows along. At Brianna's comments he gives a light shrug, "for some reason, I only end up getting taken to places that are creepy these days. I start to wonder if I need to find new people to spend time with," he muses in response to Brianna. He hangs back again, looking around suspiciously, keeping his guard up.

"Maybe." Mydas nods to Kieran. "Either way..." The Marquis approaches the weird, tiny old man. Because someone has to and why not Mydas? "Greetings, Goodman. My companions and I were wondering what brings you, and the echoing laughter, to this place. Would you mind if we joined you?" asks the Marquis as casually as conversation in the middle of Arx's streets.

And still unspeaking he wraps unnaturally long fingers, nails now noticeably blackened, about the staff of his poleaxe and uses it as a support to pull himself to his feet. His washing, now noted as a hood of red, is placed at a jaunty angle on his head to hide the balding. It leaves behind a dark stain on the rocks, its dye bleeding slowly in a trickle down in a slow drip to the brook. Turning to face them now, a smile is revealed that would look more at home in a shark's maw. Too wide, that cheshire's grin, and looking at those it will split his cracked lips were it to utter a single syllable. Eyes are a luminous yellow, wide and owlish with dark circles and bags that pool atop angular cheekbones. His chin is bare of any facial hair, perhaps the first place the balding took hold, or perhaps the dark splotching of the skin there hints at a disease, the purples and greens blooming like a bruise. "If you're looking for her, she is just ...there." He points a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the tower. Who is the 'her' he is not saying, the severity of the smile turning to sneer too severe. "But first before the lickety becomes the spliticky, and the dame becomes the maimed, I want to -play-." Both hands wrap about the poleaxe now and he raps it once on the stone, the sound echoing hollow as the grounds behind seem drained of color slowly, all monochromatic grays.

Percephon checked perception + occult at difficulty 35, rolling 10 higher.

Mydas checked perception + theology at difficulty 35, rolling 23 higher.

Killian checked perception + theology at difficulty 35, rolling 13 higher.

Kieran eyes the odd man a moment before grinning back with his own cheshire smile. "Yes, we were planning to spend an evening visiting with...her and we're just a bit curious as to the best path to get there." Eyeing the poleaxe for a brief moment, he continues, "Play? I don't think I have seen that particular musical instrument. Is it percussion? Do you take requests?"

Brianna frowns at the weird man as he looks at them. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not natural at -all-." she says to the group who desire to stay back. "I'm all for.." she motions with her axe.

Percephon takes moderate damage.

Mydas takes moderate damage.

Rock and roll hurts

Killian takes minor damage.

As the trio move forward - and it seems to be steady-going, even hopeful. But, the moment the ice cracks underfoot Percephon's realist nature comes to the forefront and he seems morose, resigned even, and the force of the preternatural throw has tossed him into a thorn bush. So many thorns. It stings a little. "Always."

"I see. Well, I wish you luck with that." Mydas answers the old man, and then proceeds to move forward and attempt to cross the brook. He manages to go about halfway, the furthest of the entire group, till... Suddenly he's violently pulled back and sent flying... straight into a tree trunk. The breastplate protects him from the worst, his spine preserved, evidently as he gets back up, slowly... but he's definitely going to feel it for quite some time. "All right... I suppose... We'll be playing."

There's a moment when Killian looks like he might hold his footing, then he's thrown backwards as well, and finds himself slamming against a boulder with an 'oofing' noise. He rolls up to his feet, seemingly mostly unphased by the little bit of roughhousing, before he looks around. His eyes shift to Mydas, and instead of reaching for his sword he frowns, "don't suppose anyone has read the rules to whatever game it is we're playing?" in a worried tone.

Kieran watches his comrades go flying through the air, getting smashed against trees and thorns. Looking at Mydas, he notes, "Percussion it is." His blue eyes focus on the old man thing, "Can you do 'The Lusty Old Smith?' Not exactly a percussion piece but always a crowd favorite."

Kieran checked charm at difficulty 20, rolling 2 lower.

Walking gingerly while pulling thorns from unsightly places, Percephon nears the bank of the brook, proffers a bow to the red-capped elder with the insatiable hunger and far too many teeth. "It seems that we will be remaining to play your game, Goodman. If you would, please --" politely still "-- outline the rules of your game."

Kieran takes minor damage.

And it is then that the man with the Cap of Red doffs that head covering, bowing with a flourish to sweep it against the stone. when he rises again he sets it right on his head and introduces. "I am Robin the Red, and did I hear you call yourselves morsels? How delightfully delectable! Now.." he mimes pushing back the tails of a coat, much like the pianist would before taking his seat to perform, and takes his seat on...nothing. No stone nor chair is beneathe him and yet there he sits, his right boot coming to rest its heel on his left knee. "I want to -play." That shark's maw of a smile is turned to Kieran, "We'll see how well you learn then we'll speak of my fees, now riddles? Ah! Yes, riddles. That suits me." His yellow eyes shift to meet Mydas'. "You suppose - the Lord learns quickly. Now, we won't be trying -that- again, now will we? I prefer my meals whole..before they be made piecemeal. Sweet meats are not too sweet when mashed. Waste." he grimaces, sneering at the thought. Kieran's retort is what draws his attention and with a narrowing of his eyes as a single drop of blood appears on the point of his nose. "Keep that up and I'll take it whole. Shall we begin? Ladies first?"

Brianna grins a bit and then she laughs at what Kieran says, "You're a riot." to the prince as she watches them fly. Seeing how they're not really going anywhere fast, she pulls with a tug to unfasten a flask and takes a drink from it, offering it to Kieran. "Great, fucking riddles."

"Somehow I failed to read up the proper guidelines when it comes to nameless games with inhuman entities." Mydas replies to Killian. It seems snark comes easy to the Marquis when he's wounded, or maybe it's from being thrown around by an invisible force. He takes a deep breath, taking a moment to focus anew upon the old man and his huge grin. "We will play your game, Robin the Red." he says calmly. As to Ladies first... Well, there's only one of those present, isn't there? So he waits.

Kieran feels the pinprick at his nose and frowns, "Hmmm, tough crowd." He accepts Brianna's flask and takes a swig before rubbing the blood off his nose with his sleeve. "At least someone found it funny," he offers to the Lady Halfshav as he hands her the flask back.

Everything beyond Robin the Red is still black and white, but now it is stilled. Not a single leaf stirs nor a cloud moves in the sky. The woman's laughter has faded from the tower, now filled with the sound of a fervent praying.

Mydas checked charm + etiquette at difficulty 35, rolling 6 lower.

Killian seems, generally, discontented by the proceedings. But then when you are a hammer, all of lifes problems look like a nail. He glances towards the others as they seem to be willing to go along with things, so he is silent and waiting for the time being. His turn perhaps. He instead moves his gaze beyond, to the strangely still landscape behind their apparent impediment, his eyes focusing as though trying to see something.

"Some never learn..I had such high hopes for you Marquis, as the robber baron of -my- lands, still you demand. Golden of eyes, but lead of tongue...I do think your other will taste sweeter. I hear she does." Robin grins and his laughter is a rasp, a wheeze that sounds of liquid in the lungs. He turns his head in a snap towards Brianna the riddle voiced, "

A crescent that does not wax nor wane,
but a whole I split in twain,
Inever quite make it to a point,
but certain to never disappoint..."

He seems distracted, wholly enthralled in the embodiment of Northern fire that is Briann, before Killian gets the full brunt of Robin's attention. There is a loud snarl of anger, the poleaxe coming down in a swift downwards arc to spark against the stone before there is a flash before Killian's eyes. There is a loud roar from the man's mouth as he chastises, "Since you can't seem t abide the rules of common propriety, I must correct your indecency. Behave or be bold, the choice is yours, but blood begets kind!" He then calms and sits back down with the sweetest of toothy, snaggled smiles. "Answer my riddles and the lady you shall receive."

Mydas takes minor damage.

Ouch

Killian takes minor damage.

Brianna takes one more swig of her flask and ties it back, thinking about the riddle with no doubt a look of skepticism. The buckskin pony gives a snort which makes her look at it a second before she repeats quietly the riddle. She looks like someone is talking math to her a few minutes, but when the poleax comes down she lifts up her war axe. "My axe!" she proclaims boldly.

Killian lets out a gasp and staggers back, taking several steps, his hand coming up to cover his eyes. He tries to focus and curses, "I can't see anything," he says, blinking as though trying to clear his very stinging eyes. He rubs at them and shakes his head, sounding more than a little alarmed, but as though he's trying to hold it in. There's not much of anything he can do in the meantime though, other than blink owlishly and peer around as though trying to catch sight of anything.

Kieran glances to Brianna as she holds it aloft and nods, "Good guess." Killian's cries grabs his attention. "There's not much to see, so no worries." Then he looks back to Robin to see if Brianna is correct.

Percephon pinches the bridge of his nose, wisely taking a step or so farther from the bank of the brook, "As a being that clearly came before all of us, Goodman Robin, I apologize on our rudeness." Leaving it as such, with an expectant glance toward Brianna after the red-cap has spoken his first riddle. When she offers an answer, he smiles wry. Nodding once, "Well-thought out, my lady." Now, his dark eyes flick over toward the red-cap, waiting to see if the answer is acceptable -- or not. Although, Killian's exclamation is cause for concern, and Percephon steps over to offer assistance. "My lord, I am on your left. If you feel the need to steady yourself."

There's a wince from Mydas at some unseen pain, but he doesn't speak, doesn't give the creature the satisfaction. Instead, he waits... possibly glaring the whole time. That Brianna seems to have found her answer doesn't make him look any more or less pleased. He's entirely focused on Robin the Red.

"I made the riddle like you; easy. You can stay in my lands once I dispose of the others." Robin winks and then blows Brianna a lecherous kiss. A tongue far too long, and likely to hang beyond his chin, travels across his top row of teeth as he openly stares at her for a moment. However, she seems to have passed and is spared any more retort or remote physical harm. In fact, an ugly and rotten rose is soon found at the toe of her boot. Percephon is addressed next, "So proper..so well trained. Tell me, have you an interest of a fortress atop some enriched mines? I know a place, soon to be vacant..." A finger is held up to Kieran and he advises, "You'll wait your turn, next. For now, I have a deal to broker with this man...if he allows his fellow to stumble. Leave the blind man." He says. Firm. Still staring at Percephon, Robin the Red shares his next riddle, "

The wheel spins and the dye is cast,
crimson in birth, rust when life's past,
when I appear some flee while others rise to meet,
The warrior's prize, the Mercy's defeat."

At Mydas' wince he cackles, clapping his hands together with unadulterated glee.

Brianna gives a cheer as she guessed the riddle right, a fist pumps in the air as she gives a little jump! "Awesome riddle, more riddles need axes as the answer." she says to her fellow adventures. The rose though is plucked up and she fastens it right on a strap under her paudron on her arm. "Aw, how sweet." she says toward Robin the Red. She crosses with her pony and says helpfully on the other side, "I don't know if your answer is axe, so it's a little less amazing."

Killian checked composure + theology at difficulty 15, rolling 45 higher.

"Blood," with a tip of his Percephon's chin toward the cap on the creature's balding head. His hand drops and closes into a loose fist at his side, remaining steadily at Killian's left. But, it seems, no longer inclined to assist. At least, not yet. "No, Goodman Robin. I have no interest in a fortress unless it's built with books," he remarks mildly.

Killian gives a slight smile in the direction of the voice offering him guidance. "I serve the Silent Watcher, and the Sentinel shall not allow me to falter though blinded," he assures, with a surprising level of confidence. He shifts slightly, turning towards the voice of Robin, orienting upon that direction and merely watching with unseeing eyes..waiting..listening carefully to what transpires.

Mydas offer little more. Neither glare nor... anything. He might be a statue, save for his steady breathing, and the occasional blinking of his eyes.

Kieran remains quiet for now, since Robin appears to have strict expectations for etiquette. Waiting for his turn, he watches Brianna cross the brook and Percephon give his answer.

Brianna takes a quick drink as...she's sort of stopped on the other side. "When someone offers you an abandoned fortress atop some enriched mines, you say yes! Bloodstains can always be scrubbed out and I'm sure any hauntings can be fixed by shutting the windows tight so they don't rattle when the wind blows." Ugh, lost shinies causes her to frown a little bit.

"How very astute of you, Goodfellow." Kindness is greeted with the slight kindness, or mockery of it, that he can summon. Robin the Red points his poleaxe at Percephon and arching it slowly in an indicative gesture of the frozen brook, allows, "The riddle is right and the answer sound, blood is the word you found. Cross and remember till I part you remain frozen - a waste, rooted with warning to my taste." And truly, Brianna and her pony seem rooted to the spot, albeit having crossed the river. The Cap of Red does not play that fair. Kieran is next and given the kindly smile, he then wagers, "He does not want his castle, only dusty old books but...those keep getting -eaten- don't they. Pity, they'll all be gone soon. You've heard the rumblings no?" He carries on casually with the Redrain Princes, as if the bloodcurdling scream didn't just escape from the tower beyond. "I can offer you one of the greatest beauties Nightold has to offer? She is a bit touched in the brain, but good with animals. She'll make a good lapdog..."

"Bright of face, where the beauty does stem,
My uses both jovial and grim,
Plucked from life, to mourn the death,
Full of life though I stir no breath."

Mydas checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 2 higher.

Kieran checked wits + riddles at difficulty 20, rolling 17 higher.

"Usually, yes," Percephon counters in conversational tones to Brianna across the brook, as he moves to snag the reins of the placid pony from the branch he hooked them on. Leading both himself and his trusty borrowed steed across the water. "One would. It's only polite. However, not when the Marquis to said fortress is yet alive and very inclined to keep what is his own." Although, he comes to a complete stop beside Brianna, looking pensive. Having heard the parting taunts (and warnings) from the red-cap, he doesn't attempt to move further.

Mydas' eyes begin to wander idly. Surely he's not /bored/, with Robin the Red making threats on his fortress, and now on his family. But, wait, was that a stiffed yawn? No, surely not. Brianna's comment is ignored, though Percephon does get a nod for his reply. Otherwise... nothing.

At Brianna's words Robin brightens, as much as a haggard beastie of a man can, and while awaiting Kieran's answer he stands to retrieve his basket. The lid is parted and he rummages around, taking out a bloodstained bit of cloth wrapped about a lumpy parcel. He nods once and moves over to the immobilized Brianna, pulling a woman's skinned face from the cloth. He furrows his brow and holds it at level with hers, eyeing it back and forth. "Your assests are more ample, but her lips more pillowed..." He asides to Percephon, "Alive. Yet. I hear he likes to watch, to be saved for last."

Kieran grins back at Robin the Red. "Oh what an offer! Sadly I must graciously decline, as I prefer a bit more fire in my companions than a lapdog can offer." Clearing his throat, the young man focuses on the riddle. "A flower." He mounts his horse then and waits for the red cap's decision.

Near the back, if anyone is paying attention to him, Killian seems to be resuming his ability to focus. He doesn't look particularly happy about something, and glances around the others, his eyes worried. His hands are at his side, and one shifts to rest on the hilt of his alaricite blade. It's not a threatening posture, more of a movement to check that it remains where it should be, as he moves his gaze to Robin with a wary expression on his face.

Brianna cheers on Kieran, "I think he ought to get double the reward for replying in a rhyme. I'd have never guessed a flower." Oh look, Robin the Red brings Brianna a present and as he unwraps it, she looks at the head. She doesn't recoil, but there's a slight squint of her left eye at what she's looking at. "If you're trying to win my heart, that's not what I want. If you're trying to earn a kiss, that definitely isn't the way to impress me." She does try to look over towards the others who have yet to answer, although she can't move her feet.

"Correct!" is mimed through the dead woman's face, Robin's hand making her mouth move while he obviously talks out of the corner of his mouth an octave higher than his rasp. Pressing a kiss against those bloody lips he smiles with a wistful sigh and whispers where the ear should be, "It was good while it lasted..but I think she'll taste better." And with that, the face is tossed unceremoniously over his shoulder to land with a sickening 'plop' on the stones. Turning back to Kieran he nods once, bored even. "You may cross." Though when he does, he'll be frozen in place along with the others. Passing by Percephon, Robin the Red pauses and nudges him juuuust so that he is mere moments from falling off of his saddle. Frozen like he is he can't right himself nor fall - just left with the drop stomach feeling of the inbetween. With a sharp yank he claims a lock of crimson hair from Brianna's head, idly gnawing at it as he poses his next riddle to Killian.

"Here and there is one and the same,
but to shatter is to maim.
the two faces contained in one side,
in what Tehom will never hide."

Chew. Chew. Chew. Mydas is altogether ignored for the time being as the man then offers Killian, "What of a woman turned Bear to Wolf? I can break her easily, and the imp tells me she screams beautifully - if you don't mind scars." With the same detached boredom, a warning in itself.

Brianna takes minor damage.

Now, fine, Percephon is peevish -- and lopsided, frozen in place in the saddle -- he shuts his eyes and tries very hard not to vomit while his stomach sinks and his head starts to spin from the odd sensation of the vertigo.

The Paladin's eyes follow the movement of the strange creature, his expression wary as he listens. He frowns, his gaze moving briefly past to those who are frozen, a moment of worry. He still has that hand upon his sword, but he doesn't draw it, seeming to decide something. "I would say it's a mirror," he says, looking at the creature, then his gaze drifts down looking towards the surface of the water before moving back up again. He waits in silence.

Kieran joins the others on the far side of the stream and finds himself stuck. He still manages to quip with only a slight bit of concern in his tone, "Normally I need a little flirtation to be so stiff." Ba-dum-tish.

Brianna gets her hair pulled and a bit yanked out, OUCH! She gives a cursed explicive northern phrase as Robin the Red chews her hair like..bubblegum, nearly missing Kieran's answer to the riddle.

"You would say and you would be corect." Robin the Red affirms for Killian and beckons him forward across the ice and stones. For the pun, Kieran soon finds himself thwacked aside the head with the flat end of the poleaxe. THWUNK. That will leave a bruise. A sound screams again from the tower, followed by dry, heaving sobs as a metal clanking is heard.

The man with the Cap of Red then takes his time to his original stone and crouching once more, grinning with maniacal glee, stares at Mydas. "We'll wager for your lofty fortress and your life. No, not the breath that stirs your chest, but -your- life. So poised so..refined. I want to play." His riddle is posed, stakes agreed upon or not, "

A wealth of me does not mean to succeed,
for while a fork, not yet cutlery.
When robbed of me they all despair,
When overwhelmed the use of mind, nor heart, is rare."

Killian moves to cross across, but his expression is dark, and at the sound of the scream and the metal clanking his eyes turn towards what lies beyond. Worried. His expression suggesting that his mind is churning trying to figure something out.

Kieran winces at the thwack and is a bit annoyed he can't shake it off. He mutters under his breath, "I would have thought one fond of riddles also enjoyed a bit of wordplay."

"No." says Mydas calmly. "I've no interest in such a wager. If you wish an answer, I will have safe crossing /and/ your cap of red, oh Robin. If I do not give an answer, then you will have it all. Shall we?" the Marquis replies, wolf eyes meeting Robin the Red's steadily, neither blinking nor looking away.

Wiggling his fingers, Percephon waits until he has sufficient use of his hands to right himself into his saddle. Slowly, the color returns to his face and his expression shifts toward the droll, regarding Brianna. Then, Killian. An auburn eyebrow flicks upward in an unspoken question.

Killian's eyes catch sight of a questioning expression his direction, and in response they cut towards the tower again. It's there that his focus remains, a worried look and a slight tensing of his form as though he's preparing for..something.

Kieran finds his stiffness depart and looks to the others without much emotion, leaving it to them. There is a reason he has no weapon on his person.

Robin the Red's chin tilts upwards, looking down his pointed and hooked nose at Mydas. "No. I'll have an answer, but you will not have my cap just as I will not have life. I want to -play-." He repeats, for surely not the last time in its wretched life. It isn't denying Mydas outright, but haggling. "Offer a prize and I'll take your price."

The clanking of metal comes from the tower, but no screams. Silence save for the scraping of metal.

"Very well. If not your cap, I shall have free passage and your oath upon your red cap that you shall go, and never trouble mine or those close to me ever again. That is the wager, win and you will have all that I own, lose, and all you shall have is a distant memory. Now, shall I give you an answer?" Mydas answers, the haggling continuing.

Kieran turns his head to look at the tower and quirks a copper eyebrow at the sounds he hears. He glances to Robin then turns his horse slowly to start trotting in the direction of the building.

So, the creature needs to the continued distraction of the Marquis to focus on, as he appears to be relaxing his hold on them - and the environment. It's noted with a detached kind of interest, mostly curious. Although, the questions ought to wait. Sucking in a breath, Percephon attempts to urge his pony forward. Toward the tower.

Killian frowns, not giving away that he can move and speaking low while Mydas haggles with the creature. "Within there is a chair. Stained in blood and with binding chains at its feet. I suspect evil was done here..but..it is old. Darkness that has lingered too long without light.." He looks up as Kieran begins to move, "Well then," he says, and shifts slightly. He's not on horse, but he suddenly unleashes all that coiled energy and springs into movement, heading for the tower at a full clip. Those that have only seen him in armor might never have suspected it, but the Ashford Lord is fast. As he's going, his sword is being drawn.

Brianna looks towards something and her eyes widen a little bit. But seeing how Kieran and Percephon are heading, she moves quickly but quietly towards the building to join them, her axe in hand!

With a nod, Robin the Red rises from his crouch and hops from rock to rock to stand before Mydas. As he leaves that shore, all color and sound returns to that side. The clanking of the metal ceases in the otherwise lifeless tower, nary a scream nor sound coming from the crumbling stones. A gnarled hand, long and blackened fingers are offered to Mydas for a shake to seal the bargain. "Upon -my- red cap and -my- lands, you shall have free passage. What is yours is yours as long as it remains close. I lose, and distant though it may be, the memory is mine..uneaten."

Kieran checked perception at difficulty 10, rolling 2 higher.

Percephon checked perception at difficulty 10, rolling 8 higher.

Killian checked perception at difficulty 10, rolling 4 higher.

Brianna checked perception at difficulty 10, rolling 2 higher.

"If I fail to give you an answer, you will have it all." Mydas agrees, and shakes the Robin the Red's hand firmly. "And so I give you an answer. Never try to cheat a Nightgold from what is theirs." The hand is released, and Mydas begins to step towards the tower, to join the others. "We have agreed upon /an/ answer, and an answer you now have. Leave now, Robin the Red, away from my sight, and from the sight of mine." he says over his shoulder, the creature dismissed.

While Mydas is haggling with the creature, Kieran is stepping into the tower and eyeing what remains of the desolate place. "Hmmm, those sounds must have been some sort of glamour. There is nothing here but old stone, snow, and bones."

Brianna meets up with Kieran, Killian and Percephon. Expecting to free a maiden, she seems confused when looking at the skeleton as she walks up to it, her axe slowly lowering down as she squats by it. A hand reaches out, running her fingers across the items the skeleton wears as she looks over the remains. "Mmm, it's a good weave. I think it's the same cloth that damned Robin the Red wears as a cap."

"Correct. It was illusion. Or, a frozen memory. A trap." Percephon frowns, thinly, and he considers the washing - the parcel in the basket - the red cap. The remains left in the corner of the decrepit tower. No, it's a rather straightforward connection of events that once considered and absorb, leave the Scholar-Lord taking an exit of the tower.

Killian growls as soon as he's inside, digging in and turning, running back towards the brook and where Robin was. His sword shimmers, the Paladin's blade bright in whatever light, seeming to gather more than it ought to reflect somehow.

There is a roar of the utmost anger, but the creature of such propriety and rules, can only abide by that which he shook on. The distinct sound of a poleaxe meeting stone, meeting trees, is heard hacking away. Years from now, perhaps even generations, the Nightgold lands will tell boogey tales to the young ones of how the stones of the babbling brook beside Aviaron got their scratches.

But in that tower, with the remnants of a woman's skeleton bundled in archaic rags, lays the truth of how Robin got his cap of red.

While beastial, the hunger was there that they all felt. Gnawing, consuming, the twisting of the gut and ache in the jaw. Pity the predator that envies the prey? Never, but the next morning a single tooth filed to a point will be found on each of their pillows. An offering, or warning, but the deal was struck thanks to the new Marquis of the March.

Brianna still has her pack on her back, she unslings it and tosses it on the ground, wrapping up the skeletal remains of whomever it was before packing it away in her backpack as the others begin to head out. "No one deserves to be forgotten and left here." She slings the pack back on her body and heads to run to join the others, pausing of course when she hears that terrible roar move through the trees!

Killian stops at the edge of the water, looking furious but having no way to pursue the crafty creature yet. "I will find you one day, Robin the Red. For the evils you did in this place, and the darkness you brought to this land in doing so.. You may flee wherever in the world you wish, but there is no place the Sentinel will not see you." He isn't talking to anyone in particular. He then turns and rejoins the others, shaking his head and resheathing blade.

Kieran turns and exits the tower to remount his horse and head back to civilization. "Mydas. Your march is depressing. You need to plant some flowers or something."