It has been some days since you first heard the call to arms, days spent travelling to Doronan, Capitol of the Known World. For some of you, the city is not a new sight. For the rest, the sight is something to behold. Every building seems to have some sort of ruinic mosaic upon its doors. Even the air seemed alive with the smells of exotic cuisine and the bustling of people in the marketplace. Eventually, you made your way to the Council Building, where you were instructed to wait until the days affairs were finished. The room was decorated in teal and royal blue banners, carvings of various beautiful creatures from all over the world. Looking around at the others who answered the call, you can’t help but wonder if the rumors were true. Did the Council truly intend to release the Tarrasque, or was it just a rumor?
Nebari was guided into the waiting area by a polite servant where he was left to his own until called upon. He was early as the first to arrive for the day and he knew he was in for a long wait. The crimson haired man strolled towards the window forgoing the array of chairs that lined the walls, he stared out of the glass and gazed upon the city with silver orbs. The normally patient man fiddled about anxiously, tapping his fingers and checking his gear every few minutes as if to make sure that his things were where he left them.
After a while he noticed a feline resting on the window sill.
"You again. Been following me have you now?" Nebari asked the cat almost expecting it to respond, but the black furred creature mearly stared at him lazily before closing it's eyes and returning to it's nap.
Soon after he heard foot steps approaching and he turned to greet the newest adventurer but as he turned he saw that the chairs had seemingly rearranged themselves about the room haphazardly.
"Really? This again. It wasn't funny the first time and it's not funny now." he said aloud though no one but the feline was there to hear him. He quickly rushed to place the chairs in their proper place before anyone witnessed the mess.
A pink-haired young man charges into the city at a full run, stopping dead as he looks around. "Whoa! This place is awesome! Mosaics and food and oh yes-" bending over he presses his face into the dirt and sniffs with a delighted expression on his face. "The soil! It's wonderful!" Standing up, he grins, wipes himself off and sets off for the Council Building, stopping frequently to gape at the sights and smells, and to pick up an apple.
Directed to the room, the fellow enters as he munches an apple, then grins and bows his head politely to the red-haired inhabitant. "Hgh! M'nme- Removing the apple from his mouth, he repeats "Hi! My name's Doran- are you here to let loose the Tarrasque and pray that its orgy of total destruction can be directed to a path which won't kill us all too?"
Nebari looks to the newest arrival just after returning the last chair to it's rightful place. Slightly out of breath Nebari bows in return and after clearing his throat responds. "Well, more or less. Though I was hoping that particular detail was just a troublesome rumor."
Captain Makepiece cut an imposing figure, even if he was merely in his uniform and equipped with a side sword that looked like it was more suited to a locked cabinet in some aristocrat's study. The simple, dark green doublet worn over a white shirt and loose black trousers marked him as a member of one of the many companies of irregulars commanded by the Council. The addition of a cape, secured to his person by a single leather pauldron on his right shoulder marked him as an officer. Pressed into the leather was the number 33, his company, and a final addition of a shield over crossed swords marked him as a captain. Although his company was dead in the cursed wasteland around the Void Tower and is command meant next to nothing, he still wore his officer's pauldron proudly
He had made an effort in his personal appearance apart from the uniform. His beard was trimmed to a respectable goatee and he had even deigned to wear an eyepatch over his dead right orb. The scar that marred that side of his face was still very visible and likely one of many.
He walked with the purpose of a man not easily swayed by circumstances. For the Council, he had led his men to their deaths what more did they want from him? He had heard the rumors of course. The Tarrasque was a piece of mythology as far as he was concerned. As he mounted the steps to the Council Building, his mind flipped through the possibilities.
Before entering the building proper, Captain Makepiece was subjected to a quick search and his dress sword was peace tied with a silvered rope. He was an irregular after all. Finally, he was shown into the waiting room and found it already occupied.
Dot
Tiriael's head was still spinning from the recent events - she was trying to take it in all at once during the trip to Doronan - what she had read and heard about the Void Tower and the monstrosities it spawns, the Councils' call, and the Tarrasque... Even for someone as informed as she, there were simply too many loose ends that still needed to be sorted out - the decision was not to hurry any of it, and to make things easier (and for her own pleasure), she would start writing it all down.
Maybe this journal deserved a name.... But she could find none for it and simply let it drop - it had always been a conviction that things should only actually gain a name after what the thing[/b] is had been defined, whether a book, a person, or a city - how can you decide to write a book and call it [i]"A grand treatise about Dragons" before you know if you are going to find any interesting information about dragons in the first place..?
The girl had intended to make her way to the Council Building as early as possible - being the first, or one of the first at least, to arrive, would probably go a long way in guaranteeing that she wouldn't get that "What is a child doing here" look, being punctual would show she means business.
The plan went overboard as soo as she arrived at the majestic city, getting completely sidetracked with conversations with the locals, admiring the common mosaics, visiting the markets, finding out the location of important landmarks such as churches, libraries, etc. After a couple of hours, the girl was totally immersed in the bustling activity, and all the possibilities offered by a metropolis of such magnitude.
"Come on Tiriael!" - she spoke to herself out loud, startling the thrush at her shoulder, and some of the closest patrons in the tavern she had stopped by for a drink - "You're getting sidetracked..." - she continued, this time in a much lower tone, getting up, paying for her beverage and leaving in a rush for the appointment.
As the lithe girl entered the room, and in spite of not overly well dressed and/or equipped, she walked with a confident smile - a well kept chainmail visible under her travelling cloak, a whip hanging from her hip, and a small shield strapped at her back, just over a banner holding pole that stands diagonally also across her back - depicting a strange symbol of a stylized woman, defending herself with a book, against a dragon breath.
She took notice of the others already present in the room - I wonder how many more should we expect - I thought this place would be packed...". "Good afternoon" - she started with a glow in her almond eyes and a huge smile - "I am Tiriael. Pleased to meet you all"
Alaeron walks in through the city gates of Doronan, the city sights and smells overwhelming his gentle senses. Two years ago he would have been impressed by everything, but now he just wanted to return to the forest. In the wild everything made sense, where as here the jumble of the people and the houses made his head swim.
Standing in front of the Council building, he drew up the cowl of his cloak. He sometimes found himself shy around new people and retreating back into his cowl sometimes helped. He slightly frowned at the Firebow Protectorate symbol upon his cloak. Hopefully no one would recognize it.
He stopped by the entrance to have his falchion peace bound, but when they went to touch his bow, the one his father had made for him, he simply unstrung it and used it as a walking stick.
Walking down to the meetings room, he quickly did a scan of the people in the room. With his elven cloak pulled up, he usually gave the appearance as one of their race. However, when he pulled down his cowl slightly displaying his facial hair, all illusion was gone.
He arrived just as a young woman was introducing herself. He nodded slightly yo Tiriael. "Longstider, Alaeron Longstrider."
Tiriael nods to Alaeron as he greets her, and approaches the man, offering her greetings back - "Pleased to meet you Sir - I am not sure, but I believe there have been yet no additional news regarding the Council call, I was just about to inquire myself" - she turns to the others in the room as the sentence is finished.
A very well dressed and well groomed Half-orc comes into the room, holding a large tray of various cakes, "Care for a tasty snack while you wait? Can I get you something to drink as well?" he asks.
"Water," the Captain said from where he examined one of the banners. While he was facing away from the others, he took a moment to adjust his eyepatch before turning and taking stock of the his interesting companions.
"When can we expect the Council to speak with us?" He asked the half-orc attendant, the man's obvious grooming a far cry from his savage brethren who had served under Captain Makepiece.
Taking his right hand off of the tray, raised it in the air, waved it once, and a mug of water appeared and floated in front of the Captain. "It is hard to say, Captain. They have been in session for the past couple of days now." At that moment, you all hear some raised voices come from inside the Council Chamber. The Half-Orc looked at the door and shook his head. Turning back to the rest he asked, "Will there be anything else, my lords and ladies?"
Nebari politely refuses both food and drink before turning to the three newest arrivals. A large man with an eye patch, a cloaked man with a walking stick and a young woman with a whip. "I'm Nebari." with a nod he introduces himself " Pleased to meet you all."
Bowing shortly, the bard acknowledges Nebaris' greeting and returns it smiling - "Hello there"
Tiriael partakes of the offered water, finding quite interesting the simple magic effect used to conjure the container itself.
"I believe our most wanted commodity at the moment would be information - we will wait patiently for when it is available" - the girl adds with a smile and a wink to the half-orc.
The youth blinks for a moment in non-comprehension; clearly this is the first time he'd considered that what he had beent old about the tarrasque might be untrue. Then he shrugs, and grins. "Eh- still worth coming to this amazing city!"
As the refreshments fellow comes in, Doran smiles and asks "Rainwater- fresh, if you can make it, please."
Doran lets out a low groan and looks terribly sad as the prospect of waiting makes itself known. "Aww... I hate waiting for things, can't we go talk to those council fellows now? We could bring a few oranges to make friends!" Downcast, he perks up immediately as he notices Tiriael. Walking over to her, he smiles broadly. "Hey! I like your dragon-symbol! Though the wings are all wrong; when exhaling, dragons beat their wings against their target to blind them and enhance their flames. It'd cause 'em to billow out around a book, no matter what sort... I'm Doran."
Finally, entering the chamber is a girl probably barely over 16 years of age. At first glance she looks to nothing more than a street rat but a bit closer examination reveals the cloth of her clothing is a finelly crafted leather, and there also appears to be a symbol or crest on it on the left shoulder. Though it seems as though she attempted to remove it orat least bury it under a layer of dirt.
The emblem of crossed hammers over a blue shield.
it is the symbol of house Holister, the current head of the house is General Vash Holister. Commander of the hammet brigade, heavy infantry.
General Holister is believed to have a blind daughter
The girl tries to enter the room quietly but her ppresnce is revealed as she walks into a chair and nearly falling flat on her face. She fumbles a bit getting up and feels the chair plavement and takes a seat. She seems to have no notice of people watching het.
She scans the room like she is sizeing everyone up. Her eyes glazed over and several scars adorn the side of het face near the temple and eyes.
"A half-blind teenage adventurer? Is she really here for the council?" Nebari stared for a moment trying to guess the girls motives. "A death wish perhaps? Or is this child a seer of some kind? Whatever the reason she's here now." An odd tug pulls Nebari from his thoughts his sight once again directed toward the strange cat by the window. A feeling Nebari can not quite describe passes momentarily before he returnes his attention to the occupants of the room.
The red-head calmly walkes across the room for an introduction. "Hello miss. I'm Nebari, and if I'm not mistaken the grizzly one with the eye patch is Captain. Uh. Something. The enthusiastic one is Doran, the quiet one is Alaeron and the scholarly lass is Tiriael. I take it your here about this call to arms like the rest of us?" Nebari asks, a small part of him still trying to ascertain what the girls intentions were.
"Makepiece, Captain Piers Makepiece," he said absently, considering the mug of water he had been given more than the other people in the room. It was not that he did not trust the attendant but rather that he generally did not trust magical food and drink. He knew a dozen stories warning against mixing magic and digestion, most of them ending in considerable gastrointestinal distress.
Finally deciding to take a tentative sip, he looked up at the last addition to their merry crew. It was nice to see someone blinder than him but it really made him question the wisdom of the Council in choosing this little assembly. Of course, if he knew His Holiness, everyone here had a reason for being here.
As suddenly as it started, the shouting stopped. The Half-Orc cocked one ear as if listening to something, then turned to address you all. "They will see you now." With a wave of his hand, the council doors opened.
You step into a rather large, semi-circular chamber. Light pours in through the multitude of stained glass windows, giving the room an array of vibrant colors. The Half-Orc leads you through the rows of chairs and stands to one side of the raised dias, where seven figures are seated on individual thrones. The servant then announces, "Presenting the Ruling Council of the Realm. Councilman Faluun Anguul." A Half-Elf in bright red robes, nods towards you. "Councilman Aruuc Anguul." A Half-Elf in green segmented leather armor, a grey cloak, and a bow resting by his side, nods. " Gregor the Fourth, Amplitudo Legisperitum." A man in fancy robes and hat, nods. "Councilman Choztu Stonescroll." An aged Dwarf with a long, braided beard and spectacles, nods. "Councilman Cordos Twin-axe. A large, shirtless man with a leather harness and an Orc Double Axe at his side, nods. "Lord Vladic." A thin man, with a crimson cloak, a black goatee, slicked back hair, and a very fancy rapier, nods. "And Councilman Lucian Lokani." A rather young man, with shoulder length hair and clothing that had almost a metallic sheen, nods.
Esteemed members of the Council, may I present..." the Half-Orc sweeps his arm towards you.
Alaeron refuses the offer of a drink and listens quietly as everyone introduces themselves. He reaches out and steadies the young girl who nearly fell on her face. I used to be that clumsy too...
After being ushered into the council room, Alaeron steps forward, ready for introductions. "Alaeron Longstrider, adopted son of Lomas Longstrider. Representative of the Firebow Protectorate..." He steps back to let others introduce themselves.
"Captain Piers Makepiece, formerly of the 33rd Irregulars," Piers said, snapping a smart salute but otherwise regarding the Council coldly, particularly Gregor. He still held them accountable for the deaths of his men.
Terra steps away from the Captain apparently trying to keep a distance.
She makes her way into the chamber with little difficulty Terra of.... glancing in the direpction she last heard the captain just Terra, And i just want to help she finishes and she ateps aside.
Her poise and demeanor seem show hints of a noble upbringing despite her not looking like a noble
Tiriael smiles and offers a polite bow once she believes her turn to introduce herself is up - Tirial Dalaeg my lords - world traveller, collector of Knowledge and apprentice to high master Herdigron, at your service"
Nebari steps in last and bows to the council. "Nebari Freyr. Sage of the eastern sands, freshly unretired and at your service."
Doran's bright grin indicates he's about to go through his usual enthusiastic greeting- but at the last moment he decides to imitate the rest. Stepping forwards, he bows his head politely to the Council. "Doran Wyrmson, son of Enkidu." He confines himself to a small grin and a "Pleased to meetcha!"
The Half-Orc bows to the council, then to you and departs.
After he leaves Gregor the Fourth stands to address you. "Welcome adventurers, to the city of Doronan. You know why you were summoned here, to recover the Amulets of Seven. I am sure you have heard the rumors of the reason behind this venture." He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace upon the dias. "They are true. After so many centuries, with all other attempts failed, we have no other alternative. The Tarrasque must be let loose and sent against the Void Tower. I know, it appears insane, but The Seven were able to control it long enough to imprison it. Rest assured, we intend to put it back."
"And I say that old age has finally caught up to you Gregor. If anything goes wrong, the world is doomed, and you know it." Councilman Faluun interrupted.
"Calm yourself Brother, remember what the Herbalist said about your heart." Councilman Aruuc calmly reminded.
"As I was saying," Gregor continued after a sharp look at the brothers, "There is no other choice. Our forces have gotten to the point where we could not stand another assault from the Tower. The damned cultists have been wittling our armies down over the past few years, either by assassination or conversion. And this is the year of the Dark Wave, when the horrors of the Tower are unleashed in all of their fury. Tell me brave souls, are you willing to do what it takes to save our world? This is your only chance, after this there is no turning back. What say you?" The old man stopped pacing and faces you, eager for your response.
Despite his cold looks to the Council and stoicism thus far, Captain Makepiece is the first to step forward.
"I get to either save the realm or damn it, not bad for a backwater Barsavi. I'll lend my hand to this, Gregor, and if I succeed, you'll owe me a fair bit more than my pension entails."
Councilman Cordos then stood, put an hand on Gregor's shoulder to keep him from responding, and said, "Rest assured Captain, I would not think of skimping on the reward for my half-sister's successor. She chose well."
"We are here to assist Milord Legisperitum" - Tiriael pipes in in response - "I must confess not to know that much about The Tarrasque, but I am hoping to learn as we go. It is not my place to question the Council authority or deliberation, but I am hoping that it will be our place to gather as much information as we can - and I have seen wonderful things emerge from the simple fact that it is gathered and carefully pondered"
"Ha! Awesome! Unleashing the Tarrasque, saving the world, destroying the Void Tower... I'm gettin' all fired up!" Grinning broadly, Doran walks over and shakes enthusiastically the hand of the nearest councilor. "You can count on me, sirs!"
Alaeron shakes his head at the notion, "It feels like we are simply playing the game of "There is always a bigger monster". I won't try to understand the logic of the idea and will assist to the best of my abilities... I'm sure father would have done the same"
As Doran shook Councilman Choztu's hand, the Dwarf responded, "Son of Enkindu? Tell me dear boy, did he teach you the power of words, by chance?"
Councilman Aruuc placed his right hand over his heart, revealing a sigil of a bow drawn back, wreathed in flame upon his bracer. "I'm sure he would, brother of the flame. May the flame strike true."
"Well, I assumed you didn't call me here for my sparkling personality alone..." Doran smiles and bows to Chotzu and Aruuc. Tossing his apple in the air, Doran points a spread hand at it and intones "Minor Dragon-Slayer Technique: Flight of the Fire Dragon!" A glowing red rune appears on his palm and tiny flames flicker into life to catch the apple, holding it steady in the air for a moment before passing it back into Doran's hand. Catching it, he takes a bite and bows again.
"All or nothing." Nebari places his hands together fingers pointing to the sky and says "May the stars light our way."
Terra just looks around the room, all seem of noble blood, ven known to the council.
what have i gotten into now, should have stayed with the bard l, oh well no turning back now
Terra looks up at the council at least those she can sense ahhh. Yeah, sure. Nothing better to do.
Lord Vladic sat in silence, left hand over thoughtfully stroking his goatee while studying Terra. Then he stops.
Sitting up straight, he waited for Gregor to finish.
The old man continued, "Good. I now give the floor to Councilman Choztu."
Getting up from his throne, the Dwarf spoke to the group. "While it is essential that we find to Amulets, there is just one problem. We have no idea where they are. Except for one possibility. The amulet carried by the Sorcerer Ulrich, the Slayer of Dragons. He was last known heading towards the Mountains of Azeem. There is where I would start. Any questions?"
"Any Raider activity in the area?" Piers asked. The orcs in Hodag Company had once called the Mountains of Azeem home and had taught their captains the orcish tongue. While the orcs in the area had a much deserved reputation as being murderous bandits, Piers once had more than a few friends in the area from the few times Hodag Company was dispatched there. With luck he would be able to conduct this misfit crew through the orcish territory relatively unharmed.
no she doesn't and i don't want her to know i am finally doing what i want. Please sir, i need to do this, i have to get away from her. I need to prove i can make it, i can do good
Terra still will not look the captain in the eye and keeps her distance from him.
The Dwarf Councilman answered the captain, "Not in recent weeks, but I'd imagine you and Mr. Longstrider there know better than anyone that is subject to change."
Slightly distracted by the furnishings of the chamber, Doran's attention turns and is devoted entirely to Choztu. "A Dragon Slayer? Do we know anything more about him? Is he likely to give it to us if we ask, or are we going to need to pummel him first?"
"While he is a sorcerer, I somehow doubt he is still alive after this many years, kiddo," Piers said to the young caster. Doran and Terra, they were both young, too young for his tastes. Whatever reasons they had for being here must have some weight, otherwise he doubted Gregor would have allowed their presence.
"What about the local tribes? I speak orcish, but their willingness to listen changes with the wind. Do you have anything more binding I can use to leverage cooperation?"
Councilman Lucian Lokani then stood, and spoke in a voice just above a whisper, yet it still seemed to carry as if he was speaking loudly. "I do believe one of your former Orc lieutenants lives there. Morbak was his name, if I remember correctly."
Tiriael remains silent during the exchange, her mind furiously working trying to weed out every single thread of knowledge she might possess regarding all that is being discussed, and taking mental notes - The Void Tower, The Tarrasque, The Council members, Sorcerer Ulrich, the Mountains of Azeem and the raider activity in the area - orcs, and Morbak in particular...