He shakes his head to Isme.
He disappears, slowly and softly.
Isme identifies the four; all upper-players within the city's politics, regular invites at state dinners public and private. She identifies her dining companion as Canayven Heidmarch, one of the local Pathfinder Lodge's two Venture-Captains; a grizzled and respected warrior known for having little time for talking. She senses little further from him; boredom, obligation.
The soup is duly poured.
She spots no signs of obvious danger or duplicity.
"Wyam marshal. Second heir in line for the Marshal estate." he declared as he deftly kissed her proffered hand. He seated himself after Duchess Alcheska, acknowledging the chefs recommendation for the turtle soup.
Charmed by the straightforward nature of his dining companion, Wyam allows himself to relax."Am I that obvious? Or are you simply well informed?"
Wyam motioned for wine to be poured, he could not help but feel enticed by the Duchess as she smiled at him, and he allowed himself to smile back. [b]"I'd always thought that by becoming a Paladin, I could make others feel more secure, not cause worry. Many would believe simply because we are part of the church, that we must seek out to purify the evils of this world and bring to light any secrets others might have. I find it rather tiresome to be questioning the motives of everyone I meet." He took a moment to then make his choice of the sorbet
"That is what the inquisition sect is for. We Paladin's are the military arm and often sent to deal with the more open threats. But I doubt the church has any interest in making that distinction obvious to the people. Frankly, Duchess Alcheska, it was part of why I decided to go and make my own way."
He gazed down at his cup and took a sip. "In my experience closer ties to the people of the land make for more ambitious striving. It is perhaps easier to see what can be achieved through hard work. The city can be... confining.
I also believe that those who are privileged ought to strive to act responsibly for those they are above. A man with passion can achieve a great many things."
Wyam took a larger sip of his wine as Alcheska made physical contact with his hand. He was about to respond when Array's thoughts entered directly into his own.
The blunt deduction by Array was distracting and there was a notable pause as Wyam tried not to look at the darker pseudo-dragon, then try to play off that he was simply reacting to the sudden show made by Glimmer.
"Spectrum, can you try to control Array and Glimmer? They are being very... distracting."
Carefully spooning her soup, the lady leans back against her chair as she ponders. "Obvious... in a way, though far from obvious in any not in my position. You have the bearing and posture of a military man, Wyam- may I call you Wyam?- and yet unlike military men visiting the Garden you have little of the craven or greedy about you. From that, I do indeed judge paladin... that, I suppose, and another regular guest with an eye on my enormous fiefdoms did offer a guest list earlier today." Her eyes sparkle with merriment.
She glances about him. "Mmm; might I ask of what church you dedicate yourself to, Wyam? I confess it a void in my own upbringing; my father was an astoundingly arrogant man, and would tolerate us knowing no one greater than him. I've often peered quite a-curiously at the beings friends, acquaintances and... others... choose to worship." She sips her wine, and makes a face. "Overly tart with the soup; time for a change." She gestures for a different bottle to be poured.
A thought occurs to as she leans forward with a smile, touching Wyam's wrist again. "You do seem like a man who can appreciate... perspective. You simply must accompany me on a visit to the Irespan this week. The view, the air, the architecture- all breathtaking. Access is usually restricted, but my husband, Pharasma protect his soul, possessed friends among the city guards; we would be allowed through."
"And do you do also lead me to some interesting thoughts about my own affairs... a substantial portion of my work is devoted to charity. I wonder if I have perhaps been too much influenced by my friends among the powerful, to giving to the popular causes. Mayhaps I should send someone to speak with the lowly directly and learn what woes might require some easing... or send the wealth to a church who works with them; what might you say?"
At his comment about the Pseudodragons, Alcheska raises an eyebrow then her eyes widen in comprehension as she shoots a glance at Barnarsby. "Hmph" she mutters quietly. "I do indeed have little respect for those who dive for the cheapest strategies when playing the game of places... gods know how he's lasted so long where he is." Her brow creased for a moment, she lightens up and turns back to Spectrum with a smile. "Well, Wyam; I do look forward to our Lord-Mayor favoring us with his visit. It should bring both word of the heroics I'm sure you've performed that brought you here... and of course, the sorbet."
"Yes, please call me Wyam. I've always preferred to be called by my given name rather than any title I might have." Wyam replied after a moment.
"Forgive my prying, but was your late husband a follower of Pharasma? I am a follower of the Church of Iomadae. I know there is some discomfort between the two churches ever since the fall of Aroden." He paused.
"... although as I mentioned earlier, I have begun to take strides in my own, away from the church's way, to aid the people of this land."
After the mention of her charitable efforts Wyam began to feel impressed by Duchess Alcheska's efforts. Although the mention of sending a servant to speak with the "lowly" did mar her words a little. He considered her words while finishing his soup. Perhaps I could afford the time to travel with her. It should only be a week's time and we need to figure out what to do next.
"Perspective does allow us to be the wiser, I feel I would be remiss to pass up a chance to visit Irespan with you, Duchess Alcheska. As for your decision to focus your efforts, the church will always find a way to help, but learning what the people would like to see done and seeing to it yourself will make you a more notable figure in their eyes. After all, we are only nobility because of them."
He followed the Duchess's glance over at Sir Barnarsby. Dropping his voice, he replied. "Yes well, heroics aside, surely all gathered here are to be commended in some fashion by our host. You must know more of the others here. What can you tell me about him?"
"Hmm? Oh... no. Dear Renald was a merchant through and through; his faith in Abadar always seemed more for appearances than anything else."
She nods thoughtfully, and sips at her wine. Dipping her voice, he replies "Well; my personal theory is that our Lord-Mayor finds him amusing; a fine way of filling empty space in dinners where people feel too powerful to speak. I'd suggest you pay him little mind... after all, we have our own conversation to continue." Her eyelid flutters in the barest wink as she places her spoon upon her bowl.
Isme uses her magic to lift the spoon to her beak, taking sips of the turtle soup and appreciating its flavor.
She takes an opportunity when Canayven Heidmarch pauses between his assault of his soup, speaking lowly for his ears. "I suppose it would be impolite to leave." A simple statement and not a question, needing little response, to gauge the venture-captain's disposition.
Spectrum eyed Wyam implacably.
"Control yourself." he said to Glimmer.
Alright. she replied. I still want to know what a Knife Ear is though. I don't think having knives for ears would be very useful. Unless they're like horns. Horns can be useful sometimes.
To Spectrum's credit, he didn't laugh. Instead he looked up to Array.
"You too."
Array tilted his head, still watching Wyam and his new friend.
I am perfectly controlled.
Spectrum gave Wyam a small shrug and turned back to his casual ignoring of Sir Barnarsby's rambling.
Kejal deals cordially with her dining companion but pays him little mind.
The servants withdraw from the room, and the sound of many footsteps echoes from the corridors beyond. In a single practiced movement both doors are opened at once as servants step into the room; between them a bald and rotund man with a head that slides down to meet his body with no hint of neck dressed in reveling gear of finest blue and white silk. Behind him, a deep voice booms. "His genteel honor, Lord Grobaras" and the man in question makes a stately path towards the head of the table, meeting each of your gazes in turn. "Friends, new friends- I do apologize for my lateness; matters of state do tend to forcibly occupy one." He descends onto the chair at the head of the table, hands finding and resting on the ends of the armrests easily, regally. "I believe with me comes the...?" on cue a series of servants step in carrying dishes. "The desert; marvelous." After it is served, he reaches for a tiny spoon with a surprising gentleness, ladelling a tiny portion into his immense mouth. "...spectacular."
"An honor to have you with us tonight, my lord" rumbles Barnarsby. "As ever, it is a pleasure to be in your presence and see in some way the superlative way the affairs of state are managed in our fair city."
Canayven grunts disdainfully, and Alcheska raises a finger. "Same from I, Haldmeer, always a pleasure. Now please, if I might set some kind of agenda for this merry gathering" she points idly around the table "ff you could indulge us with the reason for our fine choices of dining companions...?"
"Well" speaks the man in a surprisingly high voice, "mayhaps that is best explained by our visitors." He smiles at Spectrum and Wyam. "I confess the reports handed to me were little read; I saw but enough to conclude that this could be a fine way to reward some honorable fellows for fine service to our city, and to provide a jolly marvelous story to entertain us as we supped."
He smiles again, and gestures. "If you would reiterate your struggles and victories in our fine city...?"
To Spectrum, the account was a collection of facts and important details rather than anything resembling a tale of heroism. He recounted it in exactly that way.
"There was a cult operating in your city. They adopted the trappings and practices of ancient Thassilon, including blood rights, forced magical coercion, corruption of the mind and body, and human sacrifice."
"We tracked them here from Sandpoint and discovered they had infiltrated your criminal justice system and your nobility. We learned their leader, a Lamia matriarch, had made her base of operations inside your ruined clocktower."
"We killed her."
Wyam waits patiently for Spectrum to finish before he holds out a hand.
"Well said, Spectrum. But if you'd allow me to reiterate, what my companion here has stated are but the barest facts. Of which I am sure the mayor here has stated he was aware of.
Our particular tale begins in Sandpoint, where we were drawn in to investigate a recent string of murders. Of particular note was that the murderer had been leaving messages that implicated that I was in some way part of these crimes. After investigating several of the scenes we were able to deduce that they were being carried out by a pack of Ghouls. They were being directed, however, by a figure known only as His Lordship.
Our investigations then led us to deal with the ghouls who were hiding in outlying farmsteads and there we found evidence which led us to the ruined manor house of a local lord who had only just returned from some time away. One Aldern Foxglove.
Having met the man recently during a raid by Goblins that were tied in some plot within the nearby ruins of Thisteltop. It was there that we first discovered ties to a plot involving these Thassilonian worshipers." Wyam paused momentarily to take a sip from his wine before continuing.
"I could hardly believe that the kindly, wistfully cheerful hunting enthusiast, was the same man at the heart of these troubles. But when we arrived at the haunted Manor house, it cleared away all doubts. We fought our way through haunts, more ghouls, and several sets of other monsters, all the while uncovering the tragedy that had occurred within the Foxglove Manor and it's inhabitants some twenty years prior and more recently what had occurred with Aldern's wife. Until finally, we met Aldern at the heart of the basement, a twisted broken shell that had once been the man. He was no longer human and had become a strange vicious type of ghoul. His mind appeared to have split into three different personalities. We managed to glean some small amount of information from the remnants of the actual Aldern's mind before he turned to his other personalities and we were forced to fight. First was the one I mentioned earlier, known as His Lordship, which had formed some sort of deranged bond or desire with me. The second appeared near the end of the fight and was simply called the Skinsaw Man.
The fight was brutal, but in the end we were able to overcome his sheer brutality. We managed to recover some notes he had apparently left himself, notes that indicated that he was part of a plot that had originated here in Magnimar. Once we'd made sure to cleanse the manor house of all it's haunts and other monstrosities, we wasted little time before we making preparations to come to this city."
Wyam paused again at this point to take a quick bite of the desert in front of him.
"We'd uncovered in the notes left to Aldern by a woman who called herself Xanesha, mentions of his transformation, his task, which we discovered was related to more Thassilonian ties, as well as a Brotherhood. Upon arrival within the city, we immediately set about to discover his town house which I was sure was being watched by followers of Xanesha. Likely to await his return upon completion of his task.
We weren't disappointed as we found impostors parading as him and his wife. After dealing with them and gaining more information, we followed the clues they gave us to the Seven's Sawmill, located on Kyvar's Island. There we encountered the a group of thirteen cultists known as the Skinsaw men. As Spectrum noted, they had indeed infiltrated the criminal justice system and nobility through mind control, of one Jusice Thornbriar who was among them."
"It was a simple enough matter to capture them and free Thornbriar's mind. From him we learned far more details about Xanesha's whereabouts, what she was and what sort of monsters and powers she had at her disposal.
As Spectrum put it earlier, we then traveled to the ruined clocktower." He stopped speaking for a moment, glancing at Kejal, before he focused back around the table. "To say that Aldern had been a brutal fight would be accurate, but the fight with Xanesha proved to be deadly. But in the end we were the ones who proved the stronger. We defeated Xanesha and managed to halt her plots within Magnimar. Part of what she had been doing, fulfilling her ties with this Thassilonian worhsip, was targeting various nobility and important figures within the city... and you Lord Grobaras were to be one of her next marks." Wyam finished the recent span of their trials by sitting back into his chair.
He knew he'd glossed over some of the details, but he'd been spending so much time over the last few days teaching Spectrum and Kejal about the finer points of courtly dealings, that he'd only had a short time to go over his notes of them.
Spectrum passed the mayor Xanesha's notes. "I had intended to give you these after dinner was concluded, but as it is relevant now..."
The whole story seems way more interesting when you tell it, Wyam. Glimmer said with her head tilted to the side. I was there, and mostly I just remember being confused and someone always being about to die. Except Chaise. He really did die. Oh, and Kejal! She died too. I'm glad they got better.
At first, the audience is ambivalent. Smiles are perfunctory, eyes focus on the dessert, a few make brief attempts to break into side-conversation but stop at a small shake of Grobaras' head.
Alcheska is the first to break. She leans forward, wine glass forgotten as Wyam speaks of Aldern's secret sides. Her knuckles turn white as she tenses her hands as the story rises and falls.
Second is Canayven. At the closeof the tale of the fight against Aldern he lets out an approving grunt, eyes rising to meet Wyam's steadily for the first time during the dinner.
Lord Grobaras' impassively polite face pales at the description of the Skinsaw Men and Justice Thornbriar. He even interrupts. "T-thornbriar? I had heard he fled the cit, but... he was at the end of a long and distinguished career!"
Barnarbas ceases muttering to himself and shooting harsh glances at Array and Glimmer as Wyam's story rises to its crescendo, and lord Grobaras clutches at his heart with one hand and leans forward with the other to retrieve the notes from Spectrum. With delicate fingers he places a small monocle over one eye and scans through them. "G-gods above and below... this case was presented to me with more enthusiasm than usual by my good secretary, but... I could never have thought..." He drops the notes to the table, and Alcheska's fingers dart forward to read it through herself.
Grobaras stares at nothing for a full minute before leaning back on his chair and reaching shakily for his wine. Alcheska looks up and nods, her expression a mixture of being surprised and impressed. "...it is clear the city owes you heroes a deep debt of gratitude." She shoots a look at Grobaras. "What few justices are corrupt- and yes, some exist, Haldmeer, before you speak- are a cancer on the system, and usually aren't removed, let alone their cancerous legacy removed. And these... assassinations... well."
She looks sternly at the head of the table. "If these people are not justly compensated for these acts then we as a city deserve to slide into the dirt forever more." Grobaras nods a few times as Canayven speaks up for the first time. "...fine work, fine fighting. Couldn't ask better of what Pathfinders I have... laudable cooperation." He shoots a measuring look at Spectrum as Barnabus reluctantly nods. "Hmph; yes, very well done, I suppose."
Grobaras recovers a little, and lifts his wine glass. "...this evening will require more business before it is completed, but, for now... a toast." Your three other dining companions raise glaces. "To these brave people from Sandpoint, and our valiant Iomedean captain... you protect and honor us with your valor." "...your valor!" echo the other two as drinks are duly poured down throats.
The rest of the meal is consumed by polite conversation, chiefly further discussing the party's events in Sandpoint and Magnimar. By the end of it, when you retire with Grobaras to a small private study, it's time for business to be concluded.
Four heavy bags are duly prized out from a large safe in a cupboard. "For your efforts."
"And... two further matters." Grobaras locks eyes with each of you in turn. "This city still owes you. I would provide you either some manner of land or property within the city as you might request, or a promise of favor and aid from any government body within my power."
"And, finally; the city still needs you." Reaching into a desk, he retrieves and spreads atop it a large map of Varisia. He points to a particular spot, far inland. "Hook Mountain. Within its shadow, half a century ago, the vile Kreeg ogre clan menaced innocent travelers. The lord-mayor then dispatched a band of rangers, the Order of the Black Arrow, who ended the ogre threat, and they constructed Fort Rannick to keep watch there ever more." He looks grimly up at you. "A little under a month ago, the Fort went silent; no reports, no travelers reporting having spoken to them. Sendings have failed. I recently consulted with an oracle, who predicted danger and deception to any who travel there. All my other forces are occupied, or will be occupied. You all seem perfect to send to check on the fort and end their silence."
"Can the city count on you once more?"
"The Foxglove estate stands vacant now. During our search for evidence there we acquired the deed. We had planned on turing it over to the authorities or to a rightful heir, but it seems there is not one, and the authorities are somewhat suspect until a full investigation of the ranks of Justices can be done."
"With your signature and seal of approval, we could simply keep the property. Would that be agreeable?"
"As for the matter of Fort Rannick, I am willing, but I think an employment contract is in order. It is high time our little group entered into some kind of official partnership anyway."
Wyam had nearly begun to decline the offer of further debt repayment but Spectrum's words halted him. The thought of partnership was appealing to Wyam. While he certainly hadn't considered it before now, the idea of continually wandering through the land with just Fearghus did not have quite the ring to it that it once did.
He then considered what acquiring land within Magnimar would mean for his family. Wyam certainly would not care for it, readily anyway. But he knew his Uncle as head of the family would have been ecstatic at the chance to more easily join the upper echelons. But Wyam did not work for his uncle's benefit.
He supposed simply acquiring the Foxglove Manor would come with Aldern's Town house as well. Though Wyam was unsure if he could ever truly be comfortable calling either place a home given the events that had occurred in both locations. He did, however, pause to consider the benefits that might be done for himself and his partnership however.
Then there was still the matter of the connections between those that had been targeted for assassination by Xanesha's machinations. Wyam had nearly forgotten amidst all that had occurred but he did not intend to give up the matter before he had found all the pieces. The one dinner party had not been nearly enough to glean much if any connection there and he had not looked into the connections between the others.
Then there is still Alcheska's invitation... Duchess Alcheska. he reminded himself.
"I will need time to consider before making my decision." he finally said. "You can count on my assistance with this task at Fort Rannick. Yet, as Spectrum has said, there will be matters for us to attend to here first." He was sure to emphasize the point that he was not simply part of Spectrum's compensation.
Wyam held to a personal code, as well as the sworn code of all Paladins. Though he admitted the Paladin code occasionally overlapped or, more often, took precedence over his own. Favor or land could be useful to them in the future.
Grobaras nods obliginly. "A gift well within my machination." To the side, a polite knock is heard and the door begins to open. "For your service the deed will be transferred to you nigh on immediately as reward for you great services=" "Not at the expense of injustice, of course, sir, I believe you were going to say next?" asks the room's new entrance drily; a young man with prematurely greying hair and a shirt moustache. He takes up a well-worn position behind Gobaras. "Hmph oh yes. My assistant, Valanni" Grobaras says by way of greeting as the man continues to speak. "Forgive the brief overhearing but you were discussing the manner of the Foxglove estate...? The Foxglove family, with the passing of Aldern, is survived by some cousins and other thin-blooded members." He pulls out a small book and leafs through it. "However, they are known to have focused their business dealings near-exclusively within Magnimar. I believe they would be willing to forfeit their interests in the property in exchange for certain discretionary stipends to be issued." Grobaras looks disappointed. "...but Valanni, the Garden still needs to be refurbished, the Taldan ambassador was here the other week with some exciting ideas for a floor decoration in the grand ballroom..." The assistant seems unswayed. "Needs must as Asmodeus drives, my lord." "Hmph."
Pouting a little, the rotund man turns back to you. "A contract of employment; can I ask you are seeking an official commission for this task, or some kind of more permanent relationship with the city? Would you have any thoughts on its structure if so? We have occasionally been known to sponsor certain groups, particularly Pathfinders. Would similar arrangements suffice?"
Wyam was amused by the exchange between the two. The increased difficulty of obtaining the Foxglove estate did not bother him. Although given the compensation they had just received, as well as the discretionary funds moving to obtain the estate, Wyam decided to aim for the higher ground.
"I personally find commissioned compensation to be fleeting. I do believe a working relationship to be more forthcoming. What say you, Isme? Spectrum?"
Though his words were true, Wyam was by no means a businessman and looked to the others for their input as much as their more informed business sense.
"Either would be fine with me." Spectrum said.
Mostly quiet, the raven finally speaks up, drawing attention to the finely-dressed bird in the room. "I value my freedom more than the employment, but as long as the terms are agreeable, I will not object to a working relationship. I stipulate the basic terms as thus: You may call on us to perform a service for you in exchange for an appropriate compensation. You are not bound to give us work or call upon our services if you do not feel the need. And we do not have to perform the service for you when asked until we agree."
She looks at the others in her party. "If any of you disagree with the terms, it would be easier to stipulate terms in individual contracts rather than us being contracted as a whole." She turns her attention to Kejal. "There is also the question if you will go with us, Kejal? We have not known you long and you may have your own duties."
She shrugs and faces Valanni again. "Further terms can be negotiated later, such as if we receive discounts or healing services in case of injury or death, on assisting us in procuring materials and information, and so on. Similar contracts such as with the Pathfinders would serve as a good model. Regardless, If Spectrum and Wyam agree to go, I will assist in investigating Fort Rannick."
Grobaras nods amiably. "It's clear you have clear insight into how you wish to be bound and employed; I find it best to avoid entangling myself in such strictures, so will leave it to Valanni to organize them as pleases you both. For the moment, before I take my leave... all that's left is to seal the beginning of our compact." In turn he extends a hand to Spectrum and to Wyam.
Once shaken, he nods self-importantly. "Our humble city has new heroes.. again, a cause for celebration. Mayhaps fair Iomedae will send me good dreams tonight, inspired by your group." He departs the room.
Valanni spends the next hour working out a contract with you all to everyone's satisfaction. The night draws to a close, and carriages are marshaled to return everyone to their residences.
A moment to converse with your dining companions before the night's end arises.
Spectrum had nothing more to say to the simple minded windbag he'd been paired with, so he simply stood near Wyam and gave polite goodbyes.
Wyam was very glad to have had Isme and Spectrum with him while meeting the mayor and for the contractual discussions.
Before leaving the office, he held at the door. "I believe you may be thinking of Desna. Her Domain is in the realm of dreams, while Iomadae's domain lies with acts of valor. But nonetheless, you can rest a little easier knowing we are acting with the city's people and interest at heart. Perhaps you will find those dreams on your own."
Outside Wyam finds Alcheska. "Duchess, it was an unexpected pleasure to meet with you tonight. I believe our conversation was indeed halted by the arrival of Mayor Grobaras earlier. Along with our commendations, it seems we have been contracted in to assist with some other business with the city. That said, it's not immediate. I believe you were leaving for Irespan this week, when precisely?"
Alcheska smiles, a tad patronizingly. "Oh, my dear Sir wyam; you are a newcomer to the city, are you not; the Irespawn is the immense fallen Thassilonian bridge that once spanned the sea. You've seen its remains, no one cannot. Might I suggest joining me at its boundary tomorrow at two of the clock?"
It was now Wyam's turn to feel mildly embarrassed. He supposed he could have asked about its location before presuming it was some travel distance away.
"Ah... yes, that sounds like a good time to meet. At the second hour tomorrow."
She smiles, nods and extends a hand for Wyam to kiss. "Good night then, sir. Ilook forward to the pleasure of your company tomorrow."
A stately carriage returns the tired group to their lodgings; Kejal seems especially weakened and heads straight to bed.
The rest find a rare moment to pause and reflect on what's come, and what's ahead.
Why did you taste her hand?
The week that passes in Magnimar is eventful. Winter reaches its peak, snowfall caking rooftops and turning streets into white fields as men and carriages doggedly plough their way through.
Passing through the streets, you find an odd mix of resentment and respect gripping the populace. The rich and respected prove grateful that you've stopped the murderers in their midst, the guards resentful that you prevailed where they did not.
Wyam deals with his meetings with Alcheska discretely, shrugging off most comments and questions.
Unexpectedly for her at least, the days that follow are full of her inviting Wyam to her receiving-room, to restaurants and sometimes by him to small tours of the city. Despite some initially venal reasons behind her curiosity for the young palaidn, she seems to be finding herself increasingly drawn to his principles, his belief, his charity. On the final day, as they party, when he asks "Is it working?" she can only respond "...mayhaps."
She gives him a cut and magically preserved lily from her manor's gardens to wear as he travels, and upon his return.
The week also involves a parting of the ways, as Kejal meets with you all. "...something about this group leads to second chances. I was dead, now I'm back again. I was rejected by much of the town's guard as I struggled to find the killers, now I've a rare opportunity to entwine the church of Iomedae and the city, maybe forever. I have to stay and see that second chance through. I'm sorry. It has been my honor to fight with you, even for just this short duration."
High on the cliff splitting the city, a raven and her former master, former partner, speak quietly.
Spectrum opens a rare letter from Canayven, conveying the Pathfinders' and his personal gratitude; one of the city guard killed was a former member, now avenged.
Two days into winter's descent, the party leaves by river barge bearing a city crest to speed passage through locks and bridges. High on the city wall, the duchess Alcheska is too proud to watch Wyam go; instead she follows her scheduled inspection of an orchard that just happens to be slightly to the side of the road out of Magnimar towards Fort Rannick.
For the first two days the journey is uneventful; a frosty trip along a winding river watching snow-shrouded fields go by. At the beginning of the first day however after making rest at a quiet village, keen eyes spot two mounted figures approaching at a mild gallop. Nimbly avoiding passers-by under the dawn sun, they approach the boat as the figure up front deftly dismounts, the rider behind slowing the horse to a trot and waiting behind. The front figure approaches, smiling and waving, and focuses into Shalelu Andosana. "Wotcher, heroes! Heave to, whoa there, all that. I hear you're taking a river cruise; mind carrying two more?"
Array quickly delivered a reply to the Pathfinder's letter, landing on the upstairs balcony and delivering the parchment sealed with the signet of House Dawntree to a junior pathfinder for delivery to the Venture Captain.
Thank you for the kind regards, Venture Captain Canayvan. I hope this letter finds you and yours well. Included with this correspondence are my notes on my endeavors and the information I have gleaned regarding this Thasselonian cult. Use it how ever you see fit.
It appears I will be making my home in Magnimar for the foreseeable future, but my friends in Sandpoint are continuing to trade for Thassilonian artifacts when they come in with trade caravans. My people have begun sending what they gather to me here in Magnimar, so I will be able to continue forwarding things of interest to your Lodge once my own research on an item is complete.
As my own research and explorations take up a great deal of my time, I am afraid I do not see myself being able to join the ranks of the Pathfinders any time soon. I simply could not accept assignments while my own endeavors are left unfinished. That said, I would like you to consider me as an asset to be called upon should the need arise. I have not forgotten that it was the Pathfinders who helped me make my way when I was young and new to the world outside Kyonin.
On the morrow, I will be leaving for Hook Mountain on a reconnaissance mission for the city. If you have need for anything delivered or brought back from that area, or interests to be looked in on, I would be happy to help.
My companion Array will stop by Heidmarch Manor in the morning to retrieve any instructions or correspondence before we leave.
Best Regards,
Spectrum
Before they left, Spectrum was quite busy. Scribing new spells into his grimoire, making adjustments to his adventuring loadout, brewing a great many potions and alchemical powders.
He also provided Kejal with a key to Foxglove Manor (which they had yet to rename). He was his usual succinct self, wishing her well, telling her she was always welcome with them, and that he would be grateful if she would occasionally check in on the property while they were away. It was true that they had only known her a brief time, but he figured if you could not trust a Paladin, then who?
It seemed like being in the bustling city of Magnimar and being force to engage with people regularly, rather than being able to hide away in his dusty museum in Sandpoint, had done the brusque elf some good. He was of gentler disposition these days. Apparently spending time with Wyam had rubbed off a bit.
He had engaged the services of another magical artisan to enchant his cloak with a glamour that changed it's color depending on Spectrum's surroundings and actions. In deference to the coming cold, a thick white scarf was added to his ensemble, and longjohns were added beneath his trousers and tunic.
On the road, when Shalelu was revealed, Spectrum smiled broadly. "Quite a ways from your usual trails, Shalelu. It is good to see you, and your companion. A friend of yours is always a friend of ours."
Wyam had spent part of his time preparing for the coming excursion. He now wore a thick black overcoat lined with wool over his armor. He'd also gone ahead and gotten Fearghus some woolen sheets for him to wear once it started becoming noticeably colder.
Wyam smiled at the pleasant surprise that was Shelalu and her companion arriving. "Shelalu! Glad to see you. I can't say I was expecting anyone to join us, let alone two. Who do you have with you?" Wyam asked, coming to the front with a nod.
Reining in his rented horse, Reynard swings a leg over and hops off. He appears to be a young-ish man of around average height, a bit on the thin side. He appears to be somewhat sunburned, perhaps from the journey, and has short black hair and a few days stubble (also black).
Catching the eye of the tiny dragon sitting atop the large pack on his horse, he thinks You may want to hop off Gwen. I need to unload your seat. He expects a response, but she merely nods and spreads her wings, launching herself into the air. As the purplish-silver drake flaps off and circles a bit overhead, she eyes the similar dragons on the bald elf's shoulders. At the same time, Reynard hauls the large backpack off the horse. It seems like it must be heavy, but he hefts it without apparent effort.
As he approaches the group, you may notice that his eyes appear to have orange irises. The more perceptive may note faint whiffs of blood or smoke. He carries no visible weapons, and wears simple, anonymous traveler's garb. He nods to the elf and to the black-haired warrior.
"Gentlemen. The lady" he says, gesturing to Shalelu "tells me you might have need of a spare sword or two. From what little I've heard, you sound like good sorts. Mind if I tag along?" a bit late, he starts and adds "You can call me Reynard, by the way. Reynard Freeman."
The other two dragons launch themselves into the air in response to the newcomer to engage in a circling and swooping bit of investigative greeting.
One was white with transparent prism-like wings. She was almost obnoxiously outgoing and full of headstrong curiosity.
Hi! I'm Glimmer!
The other was dark but swirled with subtle color, like an oil slick. He was larger and had a stinger on the end of his tail, but he also seemed more cautious.
Who are you?
"I am Spectrum. This is Wyam Marshal. The raven on his shoulder is Isme. The two engaging your friend are Glimmer and Array."
"Shalelu's vote of confidence is all we need to know you are trustworthy and competent. We would be happy to have you join our company, but I feel it necessary to warn you that we are on a mission that could be quite dangerous."
Wyam nodded. "Reynard, well met. It's true, death is among our threats for pursuing this line of work, but I suspect you wouldn't have come out here unless you were willing to take such a risk."
Isme looked no different from before, though she had been more quiet during the journey, her tongue less barbed. When the figures approach, one familiar and another a stranger, she assumes her usual persona in meeting someone unfamiliar: acting like she was no more than she appeared to be, letting the others in her group take point and attract attention while she watched and assessed.
The small purple wyrm comes a little bit closer to the other two, but still seems a little wary. "I'm Gwenhyfar, from Korvosa. What about you?"
Reynard smiles, nodding to the bald elf, the human, and even to the raven. The elf had introduced her, after all. A familiar? he wonders. perhaps, but I've never heard of a wizard with three familiars. What about the dragons? Odd.
"I've been risking death most of my life in one cause or another. So long as the cause is just, and you serve neither Infernal Cheliax nor Asmodeus, I have no problem taking risks." You might notice some particular venom when he references Cheliax and Asmodeus. There's a history there, though he's reticent to talk about it just yet.
Shalelu nods, and slaps him on the back with a grin. "Been a fine hunting partner in Sandpoint; what few goblins've shown their ugly little faces've been beaten down before they could cause any trouble."
Wyam nodded at the two of them. He is almost amused by the thought of him being part of Chelish religion or a cause that served Asmodeus's goals, but the edge in Reynard's tone made him bite back his comment.
"All the same, I'm glad to hear you say it directly." He glanced back at the river barge and the sleepy village they were at. "You must have traveled through the night to arrive here so early. I can't imagine that you'd be eager to set off again immediately, I'm sure we could delay our travels to have a good breakfast before setting off.
I could fill you both in on what we're looking into heading up northward and, Shelalu, I can tell you of what's occurred since we were in Sandpoint last."
"Eager to hear've it."
Breakfast and the next six meals pass in fine conversation as the ship makes its way up the river towards the fort, Shalelu describing some particulars in town and nodding with approval and gasping in horror at the appropriate moments as you describe your own travails in Magnimar.
Winter has begun to die down as your boat pulls in to Claybottom lake, proceeding along it to make land at the small settlement of Turtleback Ferry. Burly young men shout greetings and run up to grab ropes and pull the barge safely into dock, and a small swarm of traders and trinket-merchants appear to scrutinize their new potential customers.
Shalelu vaults onto the ground with a single bound and peers curiously and intently at each and every person. "Huh; smaller than what I'd expected." She turns her gaze back. "Rest here for a few days or head straight up tonight, y'reckon?"