Escorting Prisoners [Graves and Galin]

[This thread contains characters from two previous threads; Graves and Galin.]

Six mounted guards flanked a trio of prisoners down the street leading to the North Gate where sirs Marcus Kefalin and Keiswell Lanogeise sat ahorse with their squires at their sides.

Upon reaching the gate, two guards departed, leaving the four behind. The prisoners were on horses of their own, old weak things that might not make the full journey. There was little hope for them of escaping on such mounts.

"We are ready then?" Sir Keiswell asks; the guards nod in response. "Then let's be on our way."

The gates open and eleven mounted men trotted lightly out onto the road. The sun was starting to rise, the sky thick with clouds that were taking on hues of orange and gold. A rumble of thunder was heard in the distance.

"With any luck we'll outrun the storm," Sir Marcus said.

One of the prisoners, a large on with a few missing teeth scoffed. "We'll be soaked within the hour," he said.

"Quiet you," one of the guards said, smacking the prisoner on the back with the flat of his spear head. The prisoner took the cue and stopped speaking, but the look in his eyes seemed more lethal than anything the guards had on hand.

Galin made sure to show no fear in the presence of the criminal's. He had grown up around trained killer's and rapist's and been raised by one. These men no matter what they'd done could be no more dangerous than the psychopath that raised him. "So what exactly have these prisoners done?" Galin asked Sir Marcus. He was interested in Sir Kefalin and felt a bit of a kindred spirit in him. So far Sir Kefalin had been pretty quiet and Galin wanted to get to know him better.

(OOC: Would it be more proper for my character to refer to Marcus as Sir Kefalin or Sir Marcus or does it even matter?)

Graves takes this job very seriously. Keeping his eyes open for any dangers that might present themselves.

Upon looking at the criminals; Graves noticed that he had seen them on the streets before. He contemplates how much his life has changed in such a brief time. Before he could have been one of these prisoners; had anyone been smart enough to catch him pickpocketing.

Hearing the criminals assessment of the clouds above. Graves can not help but to agree. With this many clouds in the sky. Outrunning a storm seems like an impossible task.

Then, he hears, what must be another squire, question about what the prisoners had done.

Graves listens intently for the answer.

[OOC: Sir [FIRST NAME] is preferred, but Sir [LAST NAME] is not unheard of.]

One of the prisoners makes certain to meet Graves' stare; he stares back unbreaking and defiant. He is the smallest of the three prisoners and there was something definately arrogant about his demeanor.

When Galin asked Sir Marcus of the Prisoner's crimes, the knight answered coldly. "They broke the law," he told his squire; "Our job is to uphold the law, the details of their crimes do not matter."

"They stole some very important valuables from Markston," Sir Keiswell tells them; "including some family heirlooms with magical properties. The heirlooms have been recovered, but the Talmarks want to administer their justice."

"We was framed," the lsmallest of the three said, spitting on the ground to emphasize his words.

"No talk from the prisoners," said the lead guard, riding up beside the little man and jabbing him in the side with the butt of his spear.

They rode on for hours, passing by several small towns on the way. Passer-bys gave curious looks as they passed, but none of them asked questions. It was often considered unwise to ask questions of knights on official business.

They ate salted beef and unrisen bread as they travelled, the prisoners recieving smaller portions. When the day began to wain they set up camp just to the side of the road. The squires were tasked with fetching wood while the knights and guards prepared camp.

Graves and the other squire dismount and walk a little bit into the woods to gather wood.

As they break out of hearing range, Graves looks at the tall muscular youth and raises a hand, "My names Graves Lindenshield. What's yours?"

"I'm Galin Ridgewood. Nice to meet you. Your probably the only friendly person I'v met since becoming a squire." He shakes Graves hand. "So how did you become a squire?"
Galin talks to grave while he picks up wood.

Picking up another stick, Graves chuckles a bit, "Guess you could say I am too nice for my own good." Looking back at Galin he says, “I am a street kid. Got into a lot of fights, and learned how to survive. One day there I was minding my own business, when I noticed I kid a little younger than me being gained up on. I just never like to see an unfair fight, so I helped him out. Long story short, he was the son of the Lanogeise family." With a little shake of his head and his voice tinged with disbelief, "I still can hardly believe what is going on. Not a week ago I was waking up in the morning under an old cart down a long forgotten side ally. Now I am escorting prisoners." Taking a deep breath graves ask, "So why did you become a squire?"

"My father died and I had no reason to stay in my homeland so I figured why not become a knight? After all I like helping people and doing good as well as fighting so what better profession to follow." Galin continues to pick up wood. "So how is Sir Keiswell?"

"I think he is nice enough. I don't expect him to be to friendly because after all I am just a peasant." Graves gives a shrug and picks up anther stick. "How is Sir Marcus?"

"A bit reserved but most of the men I respect are. Anyway tell me more of your past as a peasant. What was it like?" Galin was interested to see just how different peasant life was from his own.

Graves is shocked, "You are the first person to actually ask that. Well I guess it was hard. I was a pickpocket, stole, and fought for food and money. I lived under a beaten up cart at the end of an alley. My parents died when I was young. This old women took care of me until she died and I was throw out into the street." He then smiles, "I was told a couple of times that I was the nicest thief. I would always give what I didn't need to families who needed help or young children who were on the street. I know quit a few people who would hide me from the soldiers or shopkeepers as thanks for the help I gave. A couple of the shopkeepers let me steal from them after awhile. They knew I wasn't hoarding it all to myself. Guess you can say I am a sucker for a good sob story."

Laughing a bit at himself graves picks up a stick and points it towards Galin and says, "So how was growing up in a noble house like?"

"Not exactly what you would expect. My father was not a very kind man and the fact that I am a bastard didn't do anything to help lighten his mood. Lots of beatings, lots of pure blooded nobles ignoring or scoffing my existence, but lots of training in combat which was one of the only perks." Galin continued picking up sticks for awhile. "I think we have enough now let's get back to camp."

"Agreed." Together they walk back to camp with an armful of sticks each.

"It's about time you got back," the largest of the prisoners said. They were sitting at the base of a tree where they were tied together in a semi-circle. "We was getting cold in the waiting."

"You will remain silent or I will have your tongue," the head guard, a grey bearded man called Symon said.

The squires dropped a pile of branches on the ground beside the some larger logs that had been laid aside. "Good, that should work nicely" Symon said to them. "Wouldn't have hurt for you to get back sooner, but at least you made it back before the sun disappeared." He turned from the squires and ordered two of the guards to build the fire.

The camp was set with four small tents, capable of supporting two men each. The rest would presumably be sitting watch.

It didn't take the guards long to bring the fire to life, and not long after that another guard returned with a stack of logs in his arms. By the time the sun had fallen from the sky the knights returned, Sir Marcus the Commoner carrying a doe over his shoulders.

"We'll eat well tonight, gentlemen;" Sir Keiswell Lanogeise said. "Salt beef for the prisoners and venison for everyone else!"

A cheer went up at this, echoed by some murmers of discontent from the men tied to the tree.

Eddie sneers at prisoner who was complaining about the cold. He was tired from all the riding and wasn't in the mood for clever banter with a prisoner who thought he could be intimidated. He was not frightened by the big man in the least. The reason being that Galin was armed and the man was not, not to mention the chains. "Shut your fucking mouth." Galin growls as he kicks some dirt on to the man.