The gypsies are coming!

[Crin Dalmeiier]

Falcour Gideon was by far from an average gypsy.

Well, really, his whole family was. His parents were happy and content to be running the Gideon clan back in southern Russland. They were also perfectly happy to let three of their four children run wild through the world--as long as Aldour, the oldest son, stayed to run the Gideon clan. Shela, their only daughter and oldest child, had been the first to go: she was studying Russic medicinal habits, cloistered in the only university Russland had to offer. None of them had been surprised to one morning roll over and discover Talmour's sleep-sack missing. And now it was Falcour's turn to spread his wings--and he was following Talmour into possible death and unknown danger. Of course, Shela was coming, too, leaving Al and their parents alone in Russland.

They had made the journey from Russland, starting with forty gypsies. Now they were just outside the border of Arconia.

"We should camp here," Mitch, Falcour's second and closest friend, suggested as he drew his horse even with Falcour's. "The field's good, our scouts found ample sport in the area. That way, we shall also enter Arconia as fresh as daisies--and ready for a fight, should need be."

"I have faith that Talmour will pave the way for us," Falcour told Mitch, but he raised his arm in the signal to set up camp. He twisted in the saddle and flicked two fingers, effectively bringing four of the youngest gypsies forward. They were almost too small for their bows, but they had agreed to come on this risky journey. "Ray, Dallon--you two ride on ahead and bring the scouts in. Trevere and Heit, get some hunting parties established. Pass on word that we reach Arconia in the morning."

"Finally," Mitch said, bringing in a full breath of air, "a real forge!"

"If we're not cast out like mud from their shoes," Falcour's third, a dour man nicknamed Regent for his involvement in the Gideon children's lives, muttered darkly.

"Have faith, man!" was Mitch's rejoinder as he set off down the line, probably to clearing where his wife and Falcour's sister was beginning to unload fire-sticks for a campfire.

The majority of the party was Russic, Falcour admitted to himself as he began to move about the new campsite, assigning chores to the younger men and conversing with the older men. They had picked up a few stray hands in Muu, Schoolcraftia, and the smaller principalities that seemed to spring up everywhere. Archers, smiths, young hands that Shela was instructing in medicine. They brought a number of supplies with them, purchased with the coin that Talmour had been sending them secretly throughout their journey. Falcour knew that he had probably only just informed Crin--a wise move, given Crin's volatile nature when it came to Falcour.

As if reading his mind about Talmour and Crin, Shela appeared at his side. She was the only one of the Gideons who was not blond--indeed, her hair was an odd shade of brown that carried an even odder gray sheen. She raised an elegant eyebrow at him before asking, "Excited about seeing them?"

"That wouldn't be my first word to describe it." Falcour crossed his arms and stared at a couple of young children, who had accompanied both parents on the journey. Russo and Clare were seven and eight respectively, and Falcour hated the fact that they couldn't be fosterlings. Arconia would be at war soon--there was no doubt in Falcour's mind that the two children would be drafted, as well as the three 12-year-olds the troupe had picked up. "I'm not really happy about the circumstances, but Tal's been right for years about that invasion. I sent them a message that would throw them off for a little while, stall long enough for us to get into the country. He's not going to be happy when we get there."

"Tal will be happy to see us." Of the Gideon children, Shela and Talmour looked the most alike, with their snapping black-brown eyes and dusky skin. Shela was nowhere near as tall as any of the three Gideons, something for which all of her younger brothers teased her about mecilessly. "Just think--I have not seen him in six years! And this girl of his--"

"They're only friends," Falcour interrupted.

Shela's eyes widened imperceptibly. "All right, then," she agreed. "Anyway, stop worrying. Tomorrow, we'll enter Arconia and they'll probably throw a ball in our honor, they'll be so happy to see us." She glanced over her shoulder and groaned. "Anyway, I had better go stop Mitch from making a mess of things with that traveling bard we picked up in Russland. Shameless flirt!"

"You married him, not me," Falcour pointed out, but nodded in reply to her exit. He turned so that he was facing north, the direction of Arconia, and peered along the trail. Tomorrow, he would be reunited with his younger brother--and his ex-girlfriend. It should be an interesting day, he told himself, and turned to help set up camp.

[Iwant2bafencer]

oooooo Well done Crin.

[Crin Dalmeiier]

Shela threaded her way through the camp with the ease of one who has had much practice at traveling in such a manner. Skirts hefted high, she stepped over Russo and Clare, who were wrestling in the dust instead of their nightly chores, and passed nods at the "over fifty" tent, which housed a few of the clan elders who had decided to come along for the ride. Whether or not he was aware of it, Falcour had a large gathering of gypsies now--enough to secede into his own clan, should he so wish. But all Falcour wanted to do was to fight.

Or so he liked to think.

"A word, Shel?" one of the oldest men, a crochety old gypsy most called "Seiln" called, standing as she passed. "It'll be quick, I promise."

"Very well." Shela follwed him off to the side of the tent, where they wouldn't overhead by his tentmates. He stopped a pace ahead of her and searched his pockets for some Furcht Weed, a chewing plant of sorts that was popular among the Russic gypsy clans. Shela loathed the stuff, as it dirtied the teeth and made some develop chronic coughing. She said nothing now. "What was it that you wanted, Seiln?"

"The youngest are getting restless. They don't like our pace much." Seiln popped the wad into his mouth and talked around that. "I've heard rumors of a few starting a party to go ahead and announce our entrance into Arconia."

Shela fought away the desire to rub her temples. "Is that everything, Seiln?"

"Just thought you should know." Seiln shrugged his wiry shoulders and chewed away. "Oughta tell that brother of yours."

"Falcour's got enough of a headache as it is. I'll deal with it."

Great. Another problem they didn't need. Shela reentered the camp with Seiln and immediately scanned the area for her husband. Mitch was popular with the lads. He could put a stop to such foolishness.

[Miri Belakai]

Miri was just sliding down from the saddle when a young gypsy ran up. She recognized Trevere, one of the boys who was being trained as an Archer. She smiled as he stopped a moment to pant before launching into a fast request.

“Wanna be in my hunting party? Falcour wants us to hunt for dinner tonight. We’re meeting over by the cooking campfires in a few minutes,” he gestured in a vague direction, his dark brown eyes watching her face, hoping for consent.

“Very well, be there soon. Let me get Trina unsaddled and taken care of,” She told him.

“Thanks!” He scampered off.

She turned back to her horse, patting her quickly before unbuckling the saddle. She smiled as she undid them quickly, remembering a time when the simple buckles had completely baffled her. She had learned so much in the years since palace life. To tell the truth, she was happier now. It was a good feeling to be completely self-sufficient.

Just as she had begun to rub Trina down, Mitch, Falcour’s second, swaggered up. She greeted him without pausing in her work, and smiled.


-------------------------------------------------------------

Hi everybody! I've been wanting to start writing here for awhile - Crin and Swords have been bugging me to - and finally got around to it. Yay! Should be fun!

[Crin Dalmeiier]

"Why, helloooo, Miss Belakai," Mitch greeted, swaggering up. Although he was quite sober, he rather liked pretending he was drunk--it was a gypsy custom, and great fun besides. He grinned his most cheerful grin at the elven woman. "So...what are you plans tonight, miss?" He waggled his eyebrows teasingly.

She looked at him coolly, an expression he had far grown used to. "None of your concern."

The answer was curt, intent to drive him away, but Mitch Trellik had other ideas. He was the biggest flirt in the Gideon clan, which had puzzled most when he married the rather abrupt and severe Shela Gideon. But nobody could really claim that this was an ill-made match. Shela and Mitch were completely happy--sure he flirted, and she tutted, but everybody knew it was just for show.

And they all chuckled whenever Mitch got within five feet of the pretty Miri Belakai. "Way out of your league!" Peraaf, one of Mitch's fellow smiths, called out to him, chuckling. Mitch chortled and waved in reply as the grizzled smith received a custom cold look from Miri.

"Shouldn't you be organzing hunting parties, Mitch?" Lyriss, the smallest member of the gypsy party (and also the blondest, but not something she was entirely proud of), called from where she was setting corn by the fire to cook for dinner. "I think Shela's looking for you--and she doesn't look too happy about something."

"So sorry to cut our conversation short, Miss Belakai," Mitch said, winking. "Seems my woman's got a mission in life--and it unfortunately it involves me." He tucked his hands into the pockets of his smith's apron and whistling, walked away.

[Crin Dalmeiier]

Name References:

Archers - Dallon, Falcour, Fletch, Gerlo, Heit, Icris, Jen, Keledon, Kennt, Laila, Lorvas, Lyriss, Mo, Nauckes, Pallon, Quog, Ray, Regent, Seiln, Trevere, Vonna, Yalin.

Smiths - Toka, Mitch, Peraaf, Gavin, Rüdy

Medics - Ame, Baj, Gutern, Raj, Shela, Verlow

Bards - Miri

Children - Russo, Clare, Paulo, Dave, Erreck

Camp Mothers - Flora, Heidi, and Wherry

And their last name is all Gideon ('cept Miri, who's a Belakai). There are a few extras, etc. But I'm too lazy to name them. Makes things easy, no?

[Crin Dalmeiier]

When Mitch found Shela, he was quite alarmed to see that she was rubbing her temples in a manner that had alerted him to many a trouble in the past. Although he had been intending to flirt a little, maybe try to run a joke or two past her, he stopped a few feet away and asked, "What's wrong, love?"

She looked up, startled to see him there. "You can tell something's wrong just by looking at me?" Although her voice suggested irritation, she just looked tired all of a sudden. Leaving Russland directly after her medical trials had taken quite the toll on her--and it looked as though things were finally catching up to her.

"You're rubbing your temples. Ergo, something's wrong." Mitch shrugged and began rubbing her shoulders. "What's the matter?"

"More trouble from the youth." Shela nearly slumped at the attention, but instead turned her head to fix him with one dark eye. "Seiln just informed me of the rumors--apparently, one of the hunting parties was intending to travel on ahead."

He and Falcour had been predicting such for days, but Mitch knew not to mention this to his wife. She had been working hard at keeping the entire camp from getting sick, and therefore didn't need the added anxiety. "It's all right, love. I sent Regent and Kennt with the parties--the youth respect them. Well, if they don't respect them, they certainly fear them. And Miri Belakai's going with them--you know the youth won't run away if she's going to stay here and sing." Mitch leaned around his wife to give her a lopsided grin. "Nobody will be going anywhere without us, never you worry."

Shela rolled her eyes at this. "And how long have you and my brother known about this, then?"

Mitch had learned very on in his rather erratic relationship with Shela Gideon that honesty was truly the best policy--if misdirection didn't work, first. "Oh, a couple of days or so," he said affably, and dropped a peck on her cheek to stop any argument on her part. "C'mon--Falcour probably wants to talk to us to work on tactics for tomorrow."

Shela glared at her husband for a brief moment. "One of these days I'm just going to hit you."

"And one of these days, I'll probably deserve it. C'mon."

[Keira2]

So Crin, can we just grab a gypsy if we want another chara?

[Crin Dalmeiier]

Yeah, grab anybody if you want another character. Ame, Falcour, Shela, and Mitch aren't up for grabs, but the others are. PM me if you have any questions.

Crin

[Keira2]

*note: this takes place before the hunting party leaves (I'm just a little slow at taking action :P)

Lyriss arched her back and set down the basket of corn, relieved to have that boring task done. She picked up her bow, quivver, and knife and headed towards a wagon. She pilfered some fire-sticks, deftly tucking them under her tunic, then made her way towards a less populated area of camp.

Once she reached a safe distance from the wagon, Lyriss began fashioning the sticks into arrows. If a stranger were to look at her, they would probably mistake her for a small boy. Her blonde hair was crudely shorn, shooting wildly from her head in every direction. Atlhough probably quite pretty, the pale blonde hair was matted with tangles and burrs, and liberally covered with dust from the road. If that stranger were to point out this fact, Lyriss would simply laugh and shrug it off, not caring one whit about her appearance. Lyriss was very small -- thin-boned and skinny as a rail, but she made up for it with her deadly accuracy with a bow. Because of this, she was frequently put in hunting parties. 'Which leads me to the position I'm in now.' Lyriss said to herself, setting aside another finished arrow. 'At this rate, I'll spend all my time making arrows!'

Lyriss glanced around at her very extended family. They perhaps weren't all relations, but in a gypsy camp, everyone seemed like family. She wondered briefly what the Arconians would think of them -- of her. Lyriss coughed suddenly.

"Better not get sick, or Shela will kill me herself." Lyriss said aloud.

"Talkin' to yourself again, Rissa?" Trevere said mockingly.

Lyriss glared at the young boy, "Stuff it, Trevere. And I told you not to call me Rissa!!"

The young archer just laughed, "Whatever, Rissa. Anyway, Falcour wants you to be in my hunting party tonight."

"Yeah right. YOU just want me to come, and use Falcour as an excuse to badger me into going. Forget it, I don't wanna hunt tonight." Lyriss replied.

"Aww, but I want you to come, I wanna, I wanna I--"

"Shut up, Trevere!! Whining isn't gonna get you anywhere. More likely it'll get you hurt!" Lyriss growled. She tackled the boy, wrestling him to the ground.

"Ow, alright, Rissa, I give, I give!!" Trevere grunted.

Lyriss smiled, "Only if you call me 'Madam Lyriss'"

"Alright, sorry madame Lyriss!"

Lyriss laughed and let the boy up, ruffling his hair. He headed off to find other members for his hunting party. She dusted off her clothes, noting the disapproving glances from the mothers and other women who witnessed her little wrestling match. Feeling a bit brattish, Lyriss stuck her tongue out at the gaping women, delighting in seeing their faces redden in anger. She gathered up her archery equipment and headed off to practice.

>.< I know, not the greatest but it's been a long day . . .

[Crin Dalmeiier]

Falcour Gideon didn't even look up when his sister entered the tent, sallow from the exhaustion of spending half of the night chanting old tribal remedies. She had done as much as conventional medicine allowed, but sometimes it took a little faith and clan 'gobbledegook' to return the patient to full health. "Will she live?"

Shela grunted an affirmative. "The problem's more me wondering if she'll have any thought capacity left. If she hasn't woken by morning, it could lead to a lot of trouble. I've got Verlow sitting with her." She looked around and was quite annoyed to find the tent devoid of any husbands, especially hers. "Where's he gone now?"

"Mitch?" Falcour looked up blearily, as though he had just noticed that his brother-in-law wasn't in the tent. "Er..."

Normally, Shela and Mitch slept in their own tent, but the arrival of the unconscious stranger had meant that the couple had given up their tent in efforts to create a shelter for the poor woman. Falcour had generously offered space in his own tent, which was pretty large considering the fact that only Falcour and Regent slept there. The old man was sleeping now, but the makeshift bedding for the couple was still untouched.

"Oh, that's right," Falcour said, remembering. "Clare was having a bad dream, so he went to tell her a story. He should be back any minute now."

"Wonderful," Shela muttered, and stripped out of her tunic, leaving only her white undershirt and leggings on. Falcour didn't even notice. "How long have you been staring at that map?"

Falcour ignored her and mumbled to himself instead. "They don't even know the Russic very well. What if they attack? We have no resources to take on the Arconian army."

"Fal, put the map down."

"A few archers, maybe, but--"

Shela pried the map out of her brother's fingers and pointed imperiously at the corner. "At this time tomorrow, you'll be sitting next to Talmour around a campfire, laughing at yourself. Get some sleep."

"Talmour." Falcour's tired expression closed even further. "Runt stole my girl."

"Falcour, you're tired--"

"Things were going fine, but then she decided to forget everything about me. Only friends, my foot--"

"FALCOUR!" Shela was positive that she woke half the camp with her annoyed shout, but she hardly cared. "Lie. Down. And. Sleep. NOW!"

Faced with a sister that was one step short of breathing fire and the thought of a comfortable sleeping roll, Falcour sighed and chose the roll just as Mitch re-entered the tent, tired but smiling. He kissed Shela without a word and climbed into the bedding, falling asleep on the spot.

"I hate it when he does that," Shela muttered viciously to nobody in particular.

"I do, too." However, Falcour Gideon promptly ignored all reason to his statement and fell asleep with his boots still on--exactly as Mitch had done. Shela grumbled about the stupid men in her life as she relieved both men of their boots and climbed into the bedding beside Mitch. Without waking up, he wrapped a protective arm around her, and she prayed that Verlow would have the sense to come get her should the woman wake. Then she, too, joined the world of dreams.

[Swordsman]

Damn. Great sleepy scene for me to read...FIRST THING IN THE MORNING WHEN I JUST HAD TO WAKE UP!!

[Crin Dalmeiier]

Next time I'll put a warning on it for you, okay?

*Grin* Lighten up a bit, buddy.

Crin

[Swordsman]

Try lightening up at 0600, when it's still dark out, and you've just had far too few hours on the brick they call your bed.

[Crin Dalmeiier]

Awww, does poor Swordsie want a hug?

[Darion McNair]

ahhh, "0'Dark Hundred". Can't say I envy you but I'm sure you're dealing with it a lot better than I would be.

[Swordsman]

Originally posted by Crin Dalmeiier
Awww, does poor Swordsie want a hug?

Swordsman wants a nap...

[Zelda]

'That makes two of us swords. Remind me if I ever say I'm catching a red eye cross country taht I am STUPID! I had 2 hours sleep after fencing 2 very intense team matches (the second of which we lost convincingly but still managed to come second) makes me a very tired queenie. And then there was the long lounge by the pool, 3 dinners and 2 breakfasts.

[Iwant2bafencer]

Yow, both of you need to go sleep for at least a day.

Can't say it'd hurt me too much either. Finals week, more comonly known as heck week. Eek!

[arcon]

Yes, yes, sleep is good. Winter makes for better sleep
How I do love Winter.