Bagged Tagged and Shipped

Bagged Tagged and Shipped
Summary: Brother Merrick is ferretted out of Estermarch to Wolveshire Castle.
Date: 13/11/2013
Related: [http://gameofkings.wikidot.com/treated-as-a-thief]
Players:
Merrick Pawel 

Wolveshire Castle - Cell 1
This small, cramped cell is lit only by the torches against the opposite wall well outside of room. The furniture consists solely of a single cot with a rough, wool blanket for warmth. The only exit is through the heavy oak door fit with a barred window for a view of the dungeon proper.
November 11 2013

The messages must have gone on wings of a pigeon, or a raven, depending on what the regions use - but the result was the same. The delivery was made quickly to Wolveshire of the item in question which had been evidently stolen. When the Captain Heral of Estermarch returned with an answer, he was quite smug about it too, doing what he could to ensure that the thief didn't get the royal treatment. Despite the resistance that Merrick put on when faced with the judgement, they wrestled him down, gagged him proper, threw the hood over his head, cuffed his hands together and shoved him through the lower dungeon proper until they reached an enclosed wagon, to which he was pushed into with little remorse for his fate. The ride between Estermarch and Wolveshire seemed longer than it would've, had he been able to see - dread overwhelming his senses.

Once at Wolveshire, the wagon went down toward the lower bailey, in the shadow of darkness as the night was in full bloom. There, only the guards seen the prisoner (which doesn't include his face, being covered) who was thusly yanked out of the wagon, roughed up a bit from the ground as he stumbled numerous times, unable to see anything, nor able to protest madly to whom he was. He tried several times to push back against those who were shoving him forward, but he'd only get a nasty clout to the back of the head or a jab to the ribs to the point that they had to literally hold him by his arms and push and somewhat drag him along. All the way to his fancy cell, to which they walk him into, shoving him down onto his knees almost at once, looking to their commander or their liege Lord, to further command them.

Having gotten the message when the new 'guest' of the castle arrived, Pawel's made sure to get down to the dungeons to greet the new arrival. Stepping into the cell not far after the prisoner is brought in, walking in a circle around the man now. "Well, well, well…" he says, making no move to remove the hood or the cuffs now.

The guards remain near by, only moving away if Pawel wishes it so, though for now their hands remain on Merrick's shoulders to keep him down - as it's no question that the man tried to test the boundaries of those who hold him. Even bound so, he would not relent nor give up on a chance to break free. He's panting heavily though, because wearing a hood for hours on end without fresh hair does that to a person. Sweat is no doubt going to cover his face when or if they let move to release the hood. His chest and shoulders rise and fall with this lack of air and the increasing wave of anger that rolls through him, coursing through his veins, pounding inside his skull as he strains once more up against the hands that keep him there, saying something into the gag - which only comes out as muffled protests, angered though, even with the gag on, he sounded as if he was growling more than he was whimpering.

"Leave us," Pawel says to the guards, waiting for a few more moments to let the guards get out into the other room. Continuing to circle Merrick, he pauses when he's right behind the man. Moving his foot so the sole of the boot is placed right between his shoulders, he pushes forward, in an attempt to send the other man fully down onto the floor now.

At least he can still hear, even though he cannot see nor speak. Those orders are rather ominous and he's left turning his head slightly at the sounds, trying to pick up on where the man who told the guards to leave is - though it's difficult to know the position because of the guards who leave thump out of the cell with little concern about their heavy footfalls. Merrick's then left with a moment in between the guards leaving and when Pawel is right behind him. Merrick senses the urgency to rise to his feet, turning his head some toward the direction the guards left, but before that even happens, before he can cease the moment, that boot does indeed stomp where it was aimed. Merrick gives a grunt before the momentum drives him down to meet the hard cold stone floor of the dungeon cell and with his hands behind him, there's no real way to keep from smacking his face against the floor - at least he turned his face to the side! At least.

Pawel nods a little as he sees that result, and steps around the man, before he moves the toes of one boot to poke at the man's side, not too gently, Taking a few moments, and some kicks involved, to the right ribs of Merrick, as he works on getting the man rolled over, before leaning down to pull off that hood, a bit roughly.

There's some blood in his mouth, he can taste it now, likely from biting the inside of his cheek when he collided with the ground. Yet, even as he's trying to worm a little forward on a shoulder or even on his side, those boot toes jab into his ribs. He automatically responds to those toe jabs, flinching at each one and then grunting loudly into his gag when they turn into kicks, trying to escape from them as best as he can, which inevitably puts him on his back, hands bunched up underneath him, legs skewed and drawn up some in attempts to protect where it's most vital. Then all at once, in a woosh, the hood is yanked off his head and he breaths in fresh (for him) air. He's squinting a bit, eyes adjusting, moving quickly to see who his tormenter is. His expression is clear, he's confused. He's never laid eyes on Pawel before. He's no idea where he is or who is standing above him.

"So this is how it looks," Pawel begins, words kept relatively calm and quiet at the moment. "The face of a thief! Do you know where you are?" Studying the man rather carefully for the moment as he keeps on moving in a circle around Merrick now.

Merrick frowns at the accusation once again used toward him, actually, his frown deepens into a scowl, anger igniting in his blue gaze as his eyes trail after the shifting movements that Pawel makes. His nostrils even flare as he breathes deeply, the contempt growing for the ill treatment he has received thus far. There's certainly signs of dirt and slight bruising on Merrick's face where he landed on the cell floor, but nothing that would outwardly mar him, unless of course one were to consider the scar down horizontally across his left cheek. He does shake his head at the question asked, no idea where he is - and he would say as much if he wasn't gagged, of course, in this case, a shake of a head suffices.

Stopping again right in front of Merrick, Pawel pulls out a dagger. If anyone should recognize the dagger quite well, it would be the man on the floor. Leaning forward towards the man, the Duke of Wolveshire holds it out in front of him. "This… It used to belong to my father, but have been missing for quite a while. And then you were found in the possession of it. What other conclusion could I possibly make, hmm?" Pointing the dagger in the general direction of the man's face, before he leans the rest of the way forward, and Merrick can probably feel the blade against him, as the gag is swiftly cut off now.

Merrick stills at the sight of the dagger, the weapon in which the Captain had earlier growled at him for being in possession of wrongfully. Now this man was too, yet the recognition is clear in his eyes, that he knew the dagger. There's some obvious tension in Merrick's frame as he grits his teeth against the gag. He doesn't take his eyes off Pawel though, as the dagger is held close and considerably more close as the explanation is given to him. Still, what could he do when he's restricted from speaking? There's a moment that he defies Pawel in the way that he stares at him, nay, glares at him when that dagger's steel is drawn close to his face. The kiss of steel is not so comforting considering where he is now, unable to defend himself against the press of it, so close to his neck - but not stupid enough to try and lash out at Pawel either. He stills. The movement to swiftly remove the gag probably nicks his skin, earning a quick grunt from the younger man. Still, Merrick uses the first opportunity he has to growl up at Pawel, through grit and blood on his tongue, "-You're- mistaken. Those aren't your father's." There's a long moment as he debates something, inwardly, some red flags are going off, but how much worse could this get? He tries to keep his tone even, but it's considerably difficult after all he's gone through, "I'm from the Temple, a Chosen, not a thief." If he has enough chance he starts lifting up a little, "I'm telling you, those do not belong to you nor your father. I've had them since I was a boy. A gift from -my- father."

"Liar!" Pawel's words come out at a bit of a roar, as he puts away the dagger now. "I showed it to my mother, and she confirmed they belonged to father." Reaching down to grab hold of the front of Merrick's clothing, to haul him to his feet. "So I'm giving you one more chance to tell the truth, thief…" Stepping back once he has gotten Merrick back to a standing position now.

Merrick cannot help but blink in a reaction toward the roaring word from Pawel, a flinch if you want to call it that, but he simply stares in disbelief at Pawel, firstly for calling -him- a liar and secondly for how idiotic this all was. Over a bloody dagger! He hasn't said anything by the time that Pawel reaches down to haul him up on his feet, to which he sways and stumbles a little at the top, the momentum having caught him without his arms there to balance him rightly so. He ends up with his feet a little further apart than normal, to counter offset the bound hands. The second chance makes him frown, grunting out a part of his oath, "Thou shalt never lie…" he grimaces some, knowing that is not going to calm this beast, saying a bit more after just the briefest of seconds, "Those are my father's heirlooms, given to me on my tenth year."

Pawel nods a little as he hears the part about how one should not lie. "Who was your father?" he asks, before he adds, "He must have stolen them from my father, and given them to you, then." A brief pause, as he studies the other man carefully for the moment.

That right there. Well. Merrick seems hesitant. He actually looks away from Pawel, down toward his feet, trying to work out how this will sound. Either way, not good. His eyes lift, slowly, languidly, his voice quieter, "I don't know." That was the truth of it. If he was lying, he was a very poor liar not to come up with some knowledge of who his father was, even a fake name would've been better, right? Merrick shakes his head, "No. They were given to me as … a poor replacement for the man who once wielded them."

That was obviously not the answer Pawel was waiting for. And so one fist swings for the other man's face now, putting quite a bit of force into it. Nobody that know him can say he doesn't follow through when punching someone, after all. Not saying a word right now.

Merrick doesn't have the opportunity nor is he in the stance in which he can dodge the incoming, despite if he saw it coming or not. The fist collides with a resounding SMACK of knuckles against boney flesh, sending Merrick staggering a few steps back and to the side, following the logical direction of the follow through. Blood flows freely from a split lip, as the younger tries to shake off the disorientation the punch caused.

Pawel moves in for another punch, this time going for the stomach. "Either you or the ones that gave the daggers to you must have stolen them from here," he points out, right as he swings. "If you are going to keep on lying, at least make it a better lie, okay?"

Merrick is trying to work his jaw straight when he sees Pawel coming in for another punch and by this point, the cell is too small and he's too disorientated to avoid the second punch, which drops him quite literally to one knee as he gasps for breath, finding it rather difficult after that punch to his gut. While he trained often in unarmed fights, he usually had some sort of armor on, whether it padding or a jerkin - not just nothing. It's a shock that even his taut stomach muscles weren't well prepared for yet. He pushes himself back up though, albeit it seems a he's a little sluggish and favouring those stomach muscles from stretching out entirely, "I don't know where -here- is…" he rasps, "I didn't… lie," he spits to the side a gob of blood, sneering at Pawel as if he's a fool, "I -cannot- lie."

Pawel growls a bit as he hears that. "Everyone can lie," he says, before he adds, "One piece of life's wisdom to you, *friend*. Don't anger the man with the blade." Stepping back a bit now. And not answering where 'here' is, it would seem.

"And everyone can believe what they want to believe, even if they don't want to hear the truth-" Merrick retorts back, evidently not silenced by a few punches, though no doubt he wishes his hands were lose to feed them back to the other man. His split lip snarls as he is called just a 'friend', though he struggles very hard not to taunt Pawel on, oh the desire was there but his oath locked it down. Instead, he counters, "Don't anger the Four any further with this folly. Untie my bonds and release me."

"Well, from what I have heard, there was no Chosen going to Estermarch, yet you still claim to be one," Pawel remarks now, before he adds, "So, that either makes you an imposter, a thief, or maybe both?" A shake of his head now. "I will find out that soon enough, I suppose." Turning in the direction of the door, but he doesn't move there yet.

Merrick frowns at the repeated news from Pawel as was once declared by the Captain of Estermarch, though this time he snaps out, "Send word to Laketown Chapter, to Mother Superior Tylon, that you have Brother Merrick Wulfgard… and let her come verify who I am!" He steps forward toward Pawel, "Listen to me. Do you really want the Temple up your ass? You've no right to hold a Chosen in prison. If anything, you were to have escorted me back to laketown to face judgement of my superiors. You've no right to do as much." Here he goes about rights again.

"And you are in no position to go on talking about rights… 'Brother'…" Pawel replies, with a snarl as he turns to face Merrick again. Reaching for the man to try pushing him backwards, he adds, "Considers this an exercise in meditation, and think about your sins…" And with that, he moves for the door again, signaling for the guards to open it and let him out.

Being the prisoner here, Merrick is pretty easily pushed back, stumbling those few steps until his back touches the wall of the confined cell. There's a slight 'woof' from the man as he thumps up against the wall, eyes seething with rage as he watches Pawel leave the cell. He doesn't say anything further, no point. Pawel knows his name now and can verify him. Pawel also has all of his possessions, as those were shipped along with Merrick. The sigil on his surcoat should be justification enough that he is a Brother of the Temple. Or so he hopes. Merrick shakes his head and tries to rub his lip on his shoulder, easing down to sit on the floor proper as the door closes him inside his new guest room, wincing a little as he goes to sit. "The Four preserve me," he spits out like a curse, trying to get comfortable as much as he can with his hands bound, as pointless as that will be, closing his eyes as he lets his head hang. This was going to be a long night…

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