Cerhrrahn's Crossing - A Crossing of the Realms.

"Fiddlesticks and Fie!" The aged Wizard spat, turning his faded eyes to view the incantation listen in his cryptic tome once again. The mottled, charred mess before him spoke a thousand words of how his incantation could have gone horribly wrong, had he cast it upon a living being... Just look what it did to the feather!

"Well then. Once more, and this time with Reed.. Else, Nix and Folly, I submit! Accursed luck with spells of the transporting sort, any way about it.." The gray-bearded Hedge Wizard promptly rolled the sleeves of his robe up to his elbows, keeping them out of the dust that covered his oak wood desk. Drawing a copper ring out of a drawer, with a reed core inside the metal, he placed it down atop the desk, the ashes of the feather.


Once again he repeated the spell -- A conglomeration of arcane in viable form, and eldritch latin. His bony fingers swayed and pulled, as the air seemed to dampen, a tiny humm in the air, as if a hummingbird were overseeing the situation. Which, when it came to the old Wizard's case, wouldn't be entirely out of the question.

And then, suddenly, a bright flash of light reflected off of the copper surface of the ring, a sharp crackle shot through the air as the ring vanished!

When next the wizard opened his eyes, he could barely see -- His vision swirled, dots and spots speckling his vision. But he could see well enough to tell that his ring was gone..

"...FIE!"



---

Plunk!

From out of nowhere, seemingly, that very same copper-reed ring fell into existence, dropping into a simple fountain among pennies and nickles, quarters and dimes. The Hedge Wizard had no clue his spell had worked -- And even if he did, he wouldn't have a clue to look for it in modern day and society..

The day had been quiet, thus far.. The morning was crisp, though the sun dawning over the mountain tops provided a few, gleefully warming sun beams cast over the land. Birds sung a chorus to the morning, and the chilly breeze coming down from the mountain ensured morning work was to be done quickly, if folks in the village wanted to get back inside to a warm fire.

For Lochlan, crisp and cold mornings were a good thing. Personally, he hated the heat -- It made him feel lazy, and uncomfortable. These snowy regions, even if the snow wasn't directly at the village, felt just like home to him.. This wasn't home, but it was close enough that he could feel good about living here.

Young, and strapping -- No more than 19, at best -- Lochlan stood true to his name. A lad born of the Highland Loch, back among the rolling hills of Scottland. Though he wasn't a warrior, he aspired to be one someday, inspired by his father, who at this very moment was off fighting in small wars breaking across the country.

Not here, though.. Here, of the village of Henmshire, life was peaceful, and protected. It was situated higher up in the mountains, there the forests were thick, and open stretches of land were scarce. Placed where they were, any sort of army or even a pack of mercenaries could be spotted coming up the trail which lead down to the rolling grass and farmlands, from the watch tower placed at the mouth of the valley.

It was just high enough, and placed well enough that the sun kept snow from laying over the village permanently, though winters usually came earlier and lasted longer. This also meant that the waters were untainted, fresh, clear streams of melted snow would flow down from the mountain, through any manner of rocks and terrain, filtered to gather in small pools all over the mountain side.

First and foremost, it was peaceful. Lochlan was greatful for that much, at least. Peace was what he wanted even before wanting to become a warrior, like his father.


That said, here Lochlan was, pulling a nice, fat goat through the forest, to the old chapel fountain. Though the chapel was in dis-use, and wasn't serviced anymore since the Monks had set up a cloister about half a mile from the village. People were willing to flock there to pray and send their worships, rather than waste resources trying to keep the little chapel in use.

Pausing for a moment, he took the effort to wrap his limbs under the goat, and she gave a startled bleat as he lifted her up, and carried her over a rotting log. Placing her down on the other side, he muttered with a slight Scottish accent,

"T'oi! I'll b'damned an' t'rown ta' mountain cats if this ain' workin'.." He muttered with a grin, brushing the back of his hand across the whiskers stubbling his chin -- Dark in color, like the partially-braided reddish-brown hair that covered his head. But luckily, with the amount of dirt in his hair, it looked more brown than red, and so he didn't suffer too much scrutiny for his heritage, as long as he kept his mouth shut around people or forced his accent to a close.


What the FU--


Startled, Lochlan paused, hand going to the knife at his side.. Slowly, blue eyes peered about, suspecting there might be some sort of mountain cat in the area.. It couldn't be soldiers, the horn would have sounded.

Slowly, he crept toward the noise, wrapping the rope wrapped around the fat goat's neck around his hand, so he could better control the quietly bleating thing.

"Shush, Mandeline.." He peered out through the fountain, blending in well with bark-brown tunic, burgundy trousers, and dark brown boots designed to hike up across the mountain and forest terrain. He could faintly see something there, through the thick brush.. And it wasn't a cat. He thought.

Squinting through the brush, Lochlan paused, rather -- froze, as he spied the strange woman by the fountain.. Soaked though she was, she certainly WAS a strange sight! Those clothes.. Just what were they, exactly? He'd never seen anything like them. They looked to be of fairly high quality, however, even if they weren't of any style he'd ever seen.. Perhaps...


..A noble?

But nobles wore such gaudy clothing, and this seemed more.. less. Perhaps they were just the undergarments -- Yes, that had to be it.

So.. A random noble woman in her undergarments, lost in the forest. Else a very lucky thief who'd managed to steal a noble's undergarments and escape the blades of her suitors and guards.

..Right.

Not the oddest thing he'd seen, believe it or not.


Reluctantly, he tied the goat's rope to the branch of a nearby tree, knowing that the beast wouldn't have the nerve to snap the sapling's branch unless startled. And with that, the strapping, if not scruffy you man drew his sizeable knife from the leather sheathe he'd made for it, stepping through the bushes and into the clearing around the chapel and fountain.

"Alrgh'--" He spoke, his accent gone, however his words still stopped short for the local accent, "--Who are you, Lass -- An' which business have you here in your under-garments?" He asked, keeping his eyes down at her feet, so as he wouldn't show the indecency of staring at her.. everything else, considering how under-dressed she was.

..For a noble.

Startled by her sudden outburst, he dropped down into a defensive position, himself, flipping his knife around so it was lengthwise with his arm, perfect for slashing.

..And then he realized she was just panicking. And.. she spoke very strangely, at that.


"A wh--" A what? A.. Nevermind, he shook his head sharply, "I don' know what that IS, Lass. If anythin', I should be suspectin' of you! What's a Noble woman doin' out in th' middle of the forest, in n' Baron's lands, in 'er undergarments?" He asked, finally jerking his eyes up to her face, but nowhere else.

He lowered his blade, and stood up straight again, as after a few moments, noticing her posture, he was fairly damn sure she couldn't fight beyond flailing. He could also be wrong, however, which is why keeping distance while crazy noble woman has episode is good idea.

"Who are ye', and from where d'ye hail?"

...So she WAS a thief! A worker in Castle Burger--Whereverthehellthatwas--stolen her master's clothing, and fled!

Lochland scowled at Aubree, not even going to regard the first statement she'd said. And when she approached him, holding out her hand, he looked down at it skeptically, before looking back up at her..

"M' not familiar with Castle Burger.." He muttered, lightly patting her hand, "But Bristol 'tis bein' the Local Baron who rules these lands."

Lochlan then suddenly grabbed her by the wrist -- A gentle, but firm grip, and he leaned in a bit, narrowing his eyes at Aubree suspiciously.

"What business 'ave you, stealin' th' Baron's Wife's clothin' an' runnin' off? An' where'd th' rest of it go, for that matter? Were y' robbed?" He pressed, though kept his knife away to show he didn't have intent of hurting her, "Give m' one reason I shouldn' send a messenger to th' Baron t' turn you in, Lass.."

Thinking on it, turning in a thief to the Baron WOULD give great credit to the village. Perhaps they'd get more guards--any guards at all, really--or more supplies for the village, neglected by their lord as it was.. Coming across this young thief was proving to be more profitable than he first thought.

..What in ALL of the realms was this woman talking about? Honestly, Lochlan didn't have a clue. She was touched in the head, as he was seeing now -- Surely, she had to be! ..Else she was a horrible liar.

Either way, Lochlan released Aubree's wrist, groaning quietly as he lifted his hand to rub his forehead.. The snowfall just ended, as the morning sun now blanketed the area -- It was getting too late. He was supposed to be back by now, and he sure as hell didn't want to suffer the wrath of the village elder.

"All is righ', all is righ'.." He murmured, waving at Aubree as he turned to fetch his goat from the tree he'd tied it to, "It matters not WHAT you are, but you aren't from this region, this much I can see." He glanced over his shoulder, then, to peer at her, "If you want to leave and freeze, leave. If you want to warm up whilst settling yourself yonder," He motioned to the smoke of fires burning in the distance, "Come away."

With that, he grasped Mandeline's rope, slashed it from the tree, and stalked off through the dense, snow-dusted forest.

Sometime later, after a generous half-mile walk back to the village, Aubree was greeted by busy peasant life -- And it was blaringly obvious that she was no longer in modern times, though whether she wanted to blame it on a drug-induced trip or not was up to her!

Of course, her attire did get her stares-a-plenty, and even if Lochlan tried to tell them to get back to what they were doing, he did so in low mumbles, not really speaking anything, lest his accent come through.


Up the street, and to a straw-thatched roof over a hut-like home, tucked away in a corner of the town, Lochlan led Aubree. The door was in fact not a door, but a heavy cloth hanging in the doorway to keep the wind chill out and to give some privacy. After tying Mandeline to a post outside, he pulled it aside, pointing to the cozy interior. "Inside." He stated promptly, clearly not wanting to get many more stares than needed.

Though the hut wasn't very large, it wasn't very small, either, on the inside, since the dirt floor was dug out to create a well of sorts, raising the roof up a bit. Entering the hut, you immediately faced a fire pit with stones gathered around it, and a covered cauldron hanging over the fire with some sort of stew bubbling inside of it.

To the right, you saw two beds. straw beds with simple wooden frames, and pelts stitched together laying over each. It didn't look very comfortable, but it was warm, at least. There were a few crates in that area as well, to store personal items - And cloth hanging on the wall with Celtic knots adorning them. Delicately hung in the corners, where the light didn't reach them too well.

To the left, you saw a dining and cooking area. A simple table that sat low to the floor, simple wooden stools left to sit on instead of chairs. A day-old loaf of stone-cooked bread rest on the table, pewter plates and bowls and cups resting there too. There were pelts and bundles of feathers, skulls and animal teeth scattered across and inside crates and barrels. This was a hunting family, that much was certain.


"Lochlan?" A rough male voice came from the corner, where a man with greying beard and tan-green clothes sat as he worked with sanding down the bumps on a boar skull with a sanding stone, "Y'couldn' be back so soon, lad. Did--"

The aging man paused, brown eyes locked on Aubree through shaggy copper hair. His eyes narrowed, and the stone banged on the crate next to himself as he stood.

"..Lad."

"--I know how it looks, Da'--" Lochlan cut in, clearly nervous as he shoo'd Aubree behind him, "She was in tha' forest, I saw her near tha' fountain while I was ta' be takin' Mandeline to drink. She's talkin' nonsense, but I couldn' leave 'er out there. She's a woman, afterall.." Lochlan remarked, scowling somewhat at his father's glare.

"An' y' brough' 'er here? What're y' thinkin', lad? Jes' lookit how she's garbed, you KNOW what tha' village thinks of us, an' wha' d'you suppose they are ta' be thinkin' now? Eh?" Lochlan's father glared, lifting a balled up fist threateningly, shaking it in restraint.

"An' you!" He snapped at Aubree, abruptly pulling Lochlan aside, to confront her, "Who are y', an' from where d'ye hail?"