| Lead Under False Pretenses |
| Summary: | The annual Night of Mischief has one man pulling a prank upon a masked female. |
| Date: | 02/Dec/288 |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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| Front Gates, Terrick's Roost |
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| December 2nd 288 |
The day of mischief brought with it the occasional shouts of displeasure to a chorus of laughter, dependent on whether a person had been victim or assailant. Three female figures, cloaked and hoods drawn over their heads emerged into courtyard, two of which carried medium sized satchels. Elinor was amongst them, dawning simple attire that may not distinguish her from the commoners and a black wooden mask that concealed half her face. They were heading for the grand portcullis, lost in chatting amongst one another.
There's a tall figure, not masked but certainly hooded. He is lean, looming, and dark. He stands against the porticulus in the shadow of a torch such that he himself may be a shadow but for the reveal of his torso. Yes, indeed, the figure could be menacing alright and.. he happens to be guarding the only way in or out of the castle.
Elinor wasn't the first to notice the hooded figure at the gates however her handmaiden had. A few suggestive jabs against the noblewoman's ribs pulled all attention from within the satchel to the girl and then the man appearing to be standing guard. She murmured a few words to the females on both the left and right. Elinor's slouched posture was corrected upon her approach, a warm smile was forged for his sight. "Good day to you masked guardsman." The Lady's frame dipped, followed by a mimic in unison from the two maidens. "Are you to remain posted here for the entire day?"
He has yet to speak and his face is yet so shielded.. still.. there is a hunch and a bow and a gruff sailor's cockney which comes forth. "M'laaady." The arm flourishes in ridiculous fashion. "Wold ye an ye ladies waitin' be fancyin' a tumble?"
One of the maiden's had slipped a hand upon her hip, opening the cloak's concealment of her frame in a poise. Elinor shifted her eyes sidelong, amused, "Have you the strength my lord to brave a go from all of us?" One of the maidens had replied, "He has only two hands." A third voice from the trio also contributed, holding the satchel behind her back, "And one mouth. Too few to tend to the needs of three."
There's an upturn of the head and a bit of a beard can be made out sidelong peeking from the hood. "Ehh?" The voice draws out. "Ahhm right be sure kin handle the lot o' ye." There's a bobbing of the head in raven fashion and he arches his arms, flexing at the shoulders, as though he's stretching out.. limbering up even. "No' tha' me ladies be thinkin' 'ere's a righ' place fer it." There's a conspiratorial glance about then he thumbs upwards towards the murderholes and the cross beams overhead. "Less'n they kin get up yon?"
Hands raise, shielding the jolts of giggles after spying the stone forged gateway used for the tower's defense. "Will your absence not be missed?" Said Elinor as the maidens conspired with one in secret while surveying the man standing guard at the gate. "One of us may stand in his place." The other female nods ecstatically at the idea of pretending to be a guardsman for their absence.
The cloaked man runs at the wall, takes two steps up it, pushes mightily with his feet, then grabs the beams with reaching arms. Yep, the ten foot jump wasn't so much a jump after all. He pulls himself up and sits on the cross beam with the murderholes mere inches over his head. Looking down at the three, he swings his legs back and forth. "Abcess? Missun ah'm not sick." He cackles in amusement. "Tho' tha' mae be in debate eh?"
What is visible are their jaws dropping after witnessing such a feat. All three women looked to each other expectantly as if would be the first to try in floor length skirts. Elinor spoke above the concerned and bewildered chatter, "Maybe just a little." She grinned after turning to her maidens with an idea lighting her features. Jumping may be impossible but a boost lifting her upwards. She requested the mask to string over her face before the girls would stand in position, hands locked into one another as a makeshift stepping stool to bare Elinor's weight. One foot and then the other, she had to use one hand to gather her skirts, their rise reaching just beneath the knee to reveal pale legs and leather slippers.
On the count of three the maiden's stood upright lifting Elinor just three feet off the ground as her body remained crouched, still distrustful of her own balance. They were laughing at the awkwardness of it, the noblewoman included. One hand would plant it's self atop of the maiden's crown her left, slowly straightening the curve of her back until she could fully stand upright. Elinor released the grasp of her skirts, replacing it's duty to reach for the beam. "A little higher." The girls were told and carefully they raised Elinor by her feet until fingertips could touch that beam. Now she had only to pull herself up and that was another challenge. "My lord makes it so effortless. Does he forget that such challenges are often not part of a woman's daily activities?"
"No' in the leas' m'lady." The hooded man reaches down and clasps her forearm. There's a mighty pull and up she comes. He makes it seem so effortless. There wasn't even a grunt. "Now'n ye be me prisn'r." He has a laugh again. "Less ye liken' a fall, eh?" There's a shoulder nudge of her then he looks down at her lady's maids. "Pretty birds, want te be perched wit' ye lady?"
He may not have grunted though she would, pulling then pushing at the beam until the woman could settle herself upon it. Damn skirts, bundled and twisted between her legs she was suddenly overwhelmed by the fear of falling so his arm would suffer a deathly grip. "On this day you ask me the obvious." A nervous smile traveled from the man's hidden face to the distance from the ground. "Sweet night that is far." And so easy to tumble backwards. That nudge had not helped, for Elinor yelped and tightened that grasp. The women below exchanged a glance, "We shall be here for when she falls!" They call upwards, knowing it was impossible for them to figure a way up. "Your faith in me is strong." Elinor's replies, tongue in cheek. She does gaze upwards to the murder-hole just above them. "You chose to challenge my strength when we may have, just as easily, used the stairs." The woman laughs then, still ever cautious about not falling and breaking one of her delicate limbs from impact with the ground.
Slowly extracting her fingers from his arm, the hooded man gives her a patient gesture with his free hand. "Shh. Relax miss. Sit. Enjoy the view." Of.. people walking beneath her? "Stairs? Feh. Stairs'd be fer the fain' o' 'eart. Ye'r not tha' faint hmm?" There's a lean and he smiles toothily. He has nice teeth right? And.. just when you thought he might reveal himself… he leaps off the beam and tumbles to his feet. "Lady-bird, lady-bird, sing for us now." There's a flourish of a bow and he goes running off.
Her desperate grasp only exchanged targets, from his arm to the beam at either side of her thighs. Relaxing was nigh impossible. There were walls all around them, the view consisted of nothing so spectacular she shouldn't see upon the ground. Unfortunately he had done the unexpected. Her eyes widened behind the open slits for her vision in the mask as the hooded man leaped from the beam and returned to the ground. The maidens were captured in a fit of laughter, while Elinor screamed loudly. Demanding the man's return in colorful language one would hardly ever expect a woman, much less a woman of her station to know or recite. The courtyard echoed with her song.
