On Swifter Hooves (14 Feb 2002) Agatha and Hannah must leave a companion behind in order to travel more swiftly.

At the western edges of the Green Hills, two young women ride on saddled mounts, a grey gelding and a bay mare, across the landscape. The mare's strides are long and even, eating up the ground, and she looks eager to move still faster. The gelding, by contrast, appears worn out but still determined. Keeping pace with both is a white stallion, his gait flawlessly smooth, and so even that the other two horses might as well be standing still, for all that they compare. The stallion turns to watch the two other animals work beneath their riders, and something about his expression speaks of concern.

"Is something wrong, Ahearn?" Agatha calls from the back of the mare, noticing the stallion's expression.

Chanticleer is a noble horse, but he is not a Knightsteed, Ahearn answers. He cannot maintain even this pace -- and yet, the necessity of speed is inarguable.

Agatha looks over towards Hannah and her mount, then back to Ahearn. "I suppose Fiona could carry Hannah and I together, but we can't just leave Chanticleer out here. Do you think he could keep up if he wasn't burdened?"

Hannah nods at Ahearn's "words," then turns in her saddle to face Agatha. "Chanticleer is a tired horse, as well -- I've ridden him pretty hard ever since leaving Hawksmoor to meet you at Nymuae's dwelling. He hasn't had much of a chance to rest."

The stallion slows to an easy walk, and the other horses match his stride unquestioningly. No. But we have not gone far. He could return to my herd -- he would be well enough in their midst. Safer, perhaps than where we go. Chanticleer looks relieved just to have slowed from his trot.

"How much longer is it until we reach Caer Bannuac, Ahearn?" Agatha asks, since that's where the group decided to overnight before the final run to the Icejaw Pit.

We have leagues to go before Caer Bannuac, the stallion replies. We must move faster if we are to reach it by nightfall.

Frowning slightly, Agatha turns to Hannah. "He's your horse," she says. "It's up to you to decide if you want to leave him behind with the herd and collect him later."

Hannah reaches down to pat her mount's neck comfortingly. "If you say that he will be safer with your herd, Lord Ahearn, then I certainly believe you. I just do not wish to slow us down any further ... " She looks to Agatha. "Do you really think that Fiona could bear the both of us all the way to the Caer?"

"If Ahearn can carry our supplies," Agatha says, glancing at the stallion, "then Fiona shouldn't have any trouble carrying the two of us at speed."

The stallion snorts at the suggestion, tossing his head. Agatha Cunningham of Ainigton, Ahearn answers, Let thy friend Hannah ride Fiona alone. I will bear thee.

Agatha's eyes go wide, and she takes a good look at the huge stallion's broad back. "I've never ridden anything as big as you, Ahearn. You'll keep that in mind, I hope?"

Hannah looks somewhat surprised by Ahearn's offer, but merely glances at the red-haired girl to see what she will do.

Time is critical, Agatha thinks, and says, "Okay. Let's get Chanticleer's tack and saddle off, and transfer the saddlebags."

Ahearn snorts again, but this time the sound is of gentle amusement. I will carry thee safely, Agatha Cunningham, he reassures her. Thou need not fear.

Agatha helps Hannah strip down Chanticleer, and wonders out loud, "What will we do with his saddle? It certainly won't fit on Ahearn."

Hannah considers this. "As much as I hate to waste anything in these hard times, we could just leave it here. Surely House November can afford to lose just one saddle," she says, smiling briefly.

Agatha nearly balks at the suggestion, but rationality wins out. "Okay, we can leave it," she agrees, but folds up the blanket and stows it with the saddlebags. "Can you give me a boost onto Ahearn's back too, Hannah?"

The white stallion only nods in agreement. For his part, Chanticleer seems perfectly happy to leave the saddle behind. He whickers at his rider as she removes the tack, nuzzling Hannah's hair. He appears to have an idea of what's going to happen -- maybe Ahearn informed him.

Hannah nods and moves forward to help Agatha onto the great stallion's back ... albeit with some nervousness at coming so close to the Lord of Horses.

None too calm herself, Agatha tries to get settled on the huge back. It's like riding a Clydesdale, she thinks. Bareback riding isn't something she's very practiced in, and not having anything to hold onto but Ahearn's mane makes her feel awkward.

Hannah looks satisfied when Agatha is safely astride Ahearn, then turns to Chanticleer and strokes his own mane. "Be well, my friend," she says to him. "You have borne me safely and well and for that, I thank you."

The tall stallion's broad back ought to be uncomfortable, but strangely, once Agatha settles herself, she starts to feel at ease almost immediately. He waits patiently while she wraps her fingers around his mane, standing easily and almost motionless. Ready? he asks her, after a moment. She can feel the question in his flanks, and the communication between them is like a rapport, almost like actual telepathy.

Hannah then turns to Fiona and climbs up to settle herself on the mare's back, murmuring words of encouragement as she does so.

Exhaling to relax herself, Agatha nods and says, "Ready, Ahearn."

Hannah takes in the sight of the red-haired girl on the back of the great stallion and appears absorbed in some inward musing of her own for a moment. Then she shakes her head and asks, "Shall we continue?"

Chanticleer neighs to Hannah and the others, brushing his nose against his former rider's hand, before he turns to walk back the way they came, horse sense guiding him to Ahearn's herd.

The white stallion shifts his head, nodding to Hannah, then starts off at a walk that quickly speeds up to a canter. Fiona runs beside him, her nostrils flared, her body radiating a pleasure at being able to move, unbound by a need to stay beside a normal horse.

The two Knightsteeds, bay and white, move over the snow with matched gaits, their hooves crunching through the thin crust and leaving a spray of white flecks in their wake. Fiona's breath steams in the cold air, working to maintain the pace, but not laboring.

By contrast Ahearn moves effortlessly. Riding him is like nothing Agatha's ever felt before. It's like going from a tricycle to a Harley Davidson, except that it's so easy. She can feel the power in his muscles, the ripple of each stride as his long legs devour the landscape. Unconsciously, she finds herself leaning over her neck, streamlining herself, feeling at one with the stallion. Together, they fly over the hills and down into the plains to the west, soaring over the snow, a force of nature, invincible, untiring, unstoppable.

This must be what the first person to ride a horse felt like, six thousand years ago! Agatha thinks, feeling an exhilaration that isn't at all like riding a normal horse. You don't ride Ahearn, you become a part of him.

Bannuac Fields
The featureless, snow-covered plains near Caer Bannuac have little to distinguish them. In the near distance, the stark outline of a tower can be made out, silhouetted by the setting sun. The Dragonspine mountains are still too far away to be visible, but there's a strange haze on the western horizon, whose cause is not entirely clear.

Caer Bannuac, Ahearn tells the girls as he canters onwards, tossing his head to indicate the distant tower. We have made good time.

Agatha snaps out of her fugue to look at the structure. "I hope they don't mind visitors," she says.

Hannah smiles to Agatha and Ahearn. "Good time, indeed -- as I've never ridden a Knightsteed before, this is the fastest trip I've ever made!" She pats Fiona fondly.

As they close upon the tower, it looks like the residents won't be minding visitors -- as vermin usually appreciate travelers and the crumbs of food they drop when they pass by. The structure has fallen into disrepair, and the houses of the village around it look equally sad. Once, picturesque cottages with thatched roofs and glazed windows, the glass is now broken, and the roofs on many caved in.

"What happened here?" Agatha asks, hoping Hannah or Ahearn will know.

Ahearn only shakes his head. This hamlet was prosperous and thriving, when last Redmane and I saw these lands. He glances to Hannah, the two Knightsteeds slowing to a walk to allow their riders to speak more easily.

Hannah glances about the grim surroundings. "From what I've been able to gather from a reading of the histories of this place, Caer Bannuac was once the home of Lord Pelles, who was also the keeper of the Grail -- that is, until Sir Lefallon proved his worth and claimed it for the good of Mirari," she explains. "Once the Grail left these lands, Lord Pelles disappeared, leaving the village to defend itself against attacks by Trolls. The people who once lived here went to the Houses for protection, I do believe."

Agatha's mouth gapes open halfway through the story, and she manages to close it before the end. "That's ... unfortunate. Are there likely to still be Trolls here, do you think?" She starts paying closer attention to the ruins now.

Ahearn's nostrils flare, and his ears prick, as he paces slowly towards the village. Yes, he says, suddenly. I do think so.

Hannah glances sharply at the white stallion. "Can you say where, Lord Ahearn?" she asks in a quick, low voice.

Sitting up straight, Agatha turns to Hannah and says, "Better unship my lance from Fiona's saddle and pass it up to me then. Oh, and be sure to not touch it with your bare skin!"

Hannah grimaces at the thought of touching the lance, even with her hands protected, but she wraps one end of her cloak around her right hand and picks the lance up that way, handing it quickly to Agatha. She hisses as the iron causes a sharp tingling sensation in that hand.

Agatha grabs the shaft of the lance and pulls it up without suffering any ill effects, but is also careful to keep it held away from Ahearn's unprotected skin.

Hannah now frees her sword-hand from the cloak and draws her rapier, still frowning at the sensation that her handling the lance caused.

The white stallion's mane ripples over his neck, bristling, but whether at the steel of the lance, or the prospect of danger, isn't clear. His movements betray no concern over the weapon held at ready in his rider's hands, as he long ago became accustomed to Redmane's weapons. Instead, Ahearn focuses his attention on the abandoned houses, then scans the snowy fields surrounding them.

"Could they be under the snow, waiting in ambush?" Agatha whispers to the stallion.

Their scent is here -- old and faint. Perhaps they are long gone, now. I do not know what they would wait here for. Who could have warned them of our coming? the stallion muses, though he seems no less wary.

"They may have moved into the tower," Agatha says, sounding worried. She doesn't want to spend the night in one of the ruined cottages, after all.

Ahearn tosses his head. Do you wish to venture onward to Caer Bannuac? We could skirt the village entirely.

Hannah's eyes scan the ruins of the village, looking for any sign of a threat. "As this village was abandoned so long ago, one would think that Trolls would have no interest in it, now. Unless something -- or someone -- came here just before we did and drew them here again?"

Hannah pauses in her inspection of their surroundings and then suddenly points towards the tower. "Look there," she says to the red-haired girl. "I can see a path worn into the snow, now. And there is a trampling of footprints around the door to the tower!"

Agatha frowns. "Let's go see if anybody is home then."

Hannah nods grimly and tightens her grip on her rapier. "Together then, shall we?" She points Fiona in that direction and starts forward.

"Let's go, Ahearn!" Agatha says, and moves her lance to a more ready position should a target show up before they reach the door.

The two Knightsteeds advance, stride for stride, like trained warhorses. The cottages of the village are clustered loosely around the tower, and they must ride past them, first, before they reach their goal. As they close on the village, soon everyone can make out the large, misshapen tracks that dapple the snow around the village, widely spaced, as if made by someone -- or thing -- with long legs. The Knightsteeds stay close together, glancing to either side.

Tension hangs thick in the air as the mounts and riders pass the first set of cottages, walking down a street hidden beneath snow. A two-story house looms on their left, nearest Agatha and Ahearn, as they continue cautiously to the tower.

The redhead eyes the houses suspiciously, and nearly jump when she spots actual movement in the upper floor of the nearest house. Turning to warn Hannah, she spots more movement, this time in the smaller cottage across from the Golden Hawk. "Hannah!" she hisses. "On your right!"

Hannah turns Fiona sharply in that direction, raising her blade instinctively, hoping to block whatever -- or whoever -- might be headed towards her ...

Agatha swings her lance up over Ahearn's head to face it towards the building on her left. "Someone is in this building too, Ahearn, on the second floor."

Ahearn, warned by his rider, catches sight of the movement on the second floor. With a sharp cry of alarm, his haunches bunch for a quick leap forward, as a tumble of long limbs, ropy muscles, and green-grey skin in humanoid form pounces from the gaping hole where a window had been, and towards them, cursing as it narrowly misses the pair. At the same time, a similar form dashes from the opposite cottage toward Hannah, howling and raging.

Hannah spurs her Knightsteed forward, closing with the creature as it lunges for her, in turn. With a cry, she brings her blade down to parry its first attack, hoping that all of her training at Hawksmoor stands her in good stead for this fight.

Agatha shifts her lance back to the right side of Ahearn, and looks over her shoulder in horror at the foul creature that nearly landed on top of them. How am I supposed to sleep after seeing that, she thinks, and nudges Ahearn to turn and face the monster.

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.