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"Yes, sir, all the preparations are under way for the party. Nothing out of place. Sure to be a great event.""Excellent, excellent," Marten says, nodding slightly and twiddling the end of his beard. "And all this water," he adds, flapping a hand at the serving men, "what's it for?"
"Ah, yes, these are for Madame's exotic fish. If I may speak candidly, sir, I haven't even seen them and I do believe they are meant to be a surprise for the event. The water must be changed every day, but I've never seen the fish moved from the bath. Should be an amazing treat, sir, one of many."
Will and Malatar
You both meet again in the great courtyard of the Grand Lodge, where Pathfinders of all description and origin and simply curious visitors to Absalom gather to discuss their adventures, spar or merely gawk at all the sights.
From the Foreign Quarter, you walk through the crowded avenues to the docks. The weather looks clear, but there do seem to be some clouds rolling in from the east. Unfortunately, east is where you're headed. Ships of all description crowd the docks with men of matching hues and stature, from Chelaxian vessels crewed by halflings to Ulfen longships very far from home: they all find their way to the City at the Center of the World.
Far along the eastern end of the docks are several galleys flying the crown and lion of Taldor. One ships is clearly unloading and will likely not be taking off soon, so that one's out. The next one seems a bit more promising: at least things are going onto it. You flag down a sailor, who sizes you up for a moment before answering that, yes, they could take on passengers and directs you aboard to speak to the captain.
On the deck stands the captain, most likely a retired navy man due to his erect and formal bearing.
"As luck would have it, gentlemen, we are bound for Golsifar with our shipment of lumber. I can offer a bunk for you both for the price of..."
He looks at you both appraisingly.
"... 200 silver coins. Is this agreeable?"
“I have to admit, Gorzal; I’m not terribly thrilled with how quickly this was thrown together. I mean, I had no time to look into Albercroft, even observe her and see what she looks like. What are the chances someone who knows her will be at this soiree? And fake Osiriani relics? A few more days, and I might’ve been able to get some real ones through the Pathfinders here in Oppara (for ‘research’, or whatever).
“So, what else can you tell me about Lady Albercroft? You know, like where she’s from, common ‘friends’, whatever. Did our employers bother to leave some info beyond a name?” The more she goes into this and thinks about it, the more agitated Addy gets with the lack of information; typically, the more she realizes she doesn’t know, the angrier she gets. I almost feel like I’m being set up to fail, here, she starts thinking, and begins tapping her fingers agitatedly against the side of the cart.
Gorzal barks a laugh and you're not entirely sure it's a pleasant one.
"Listen to you, girl! You sound like we're going into blasted Urdlen with nothing but a knife and a smile! It's a bloody party full of high-born twits. Scratch that: high-born TALDANE twits. The last thing they'll be worried about is your business: they'll just be too busy slyly insulting your hair or your costume and measuring themselves against you. As for securing actual relics, it's just too risky. Things like that go missing, questions are asked and things like that get damaged, who pays the music? We're better off with the fakes; only another Pathfinder would know the difference and I doubt there will be many others. And it wouldn't be your own reputation getting damaged, anyhow...."
His expression softens a bit. He surveys the rapidly emptying countryside from under the shade of his hat.
"But you're right: this is a little slapdash. If you want to be privy to the Chant, there was some trouble getting the invitation. Nothing serious or compromising: the courier that was bringing it to our operation had a gambling problem and lost it in a game. Fortunately, our employer found the fence that bought it and liberated it himself. And settled with that courier... Anyhow, it's not like she's well known. We're headed into the sticks near the Qadiran border and Albercroft's set up in Oppara. You look close enough to her and it's not likely you'll get any more than chit chat."
Thrym affects the airs of a noble lady, with a thumb in the air and a twist of the wrist. His voice wavers in a sing-song trill.
" 'Oh, my dear, how I did LOVE those trinkets my father secured last fall! I simply MUST have some of my own!' 'Why I am ever-so DELIGHTED they've brought you pleasure, my dear! I will have to show you my most recent acquisitions when you visit Oppara next!' "
"See? Simple. So don't get worked up."
Malatar squints at the captain for a moment. “It’s what … five days to Golsifar?” The former soldier bases this more on the amount of time that Quent has allowed them to get to the masquerade, rather than any real knowledge of geography; it’s not really his strong point, and he’s never been east of Absalom.
He scratches his chin. “Two hundred silver for the both of us? So long as we have separate bunks … throw in meals for the journey, and I’ll lend my sword arm if we run into pirates or slavers and you have a deal Captain. When do you depart?”
Malatar squints at the captain for a moment. “It’s what … five days to Golsifar?” The former soldier bases this more on the amount of time that Quent has allowed them to get to the masquerade, rather than any real knowledge of geography; it’s not really his strong point, and he’s never been east of Absalom.
He scratches his chin. “Two hundred silver for the both of us? So long as we have separate bunks … throw in meals for the journey, and I’ll lend my sword arm if we run into pirates or slavers and you have a deal Captain. When do you depart?”
Gorzal barks a laugh and you're not entirely sure it's a pleasant one.
"Listen to you, girl! You sound like we're going into blasted Urdlen with nothing but a knife and a smile! It's a bloody party full of high-born twits. Scratch that: high-born TALDANE twits. The last thing they'll be worried about is your business: they'll just be too busy slyly insulting your hair or your costume and measuring themselves against you. As for securing actual relics, it's just too risky. Things like that go missing, questions are asked and things like that get damaged, who pays the music? We're better off with the fakes; only another Pathfinder would know the difference and I doubt there will be many others. And it wouldn't be your own reputation getting damaged, anyhow...."
His expression softens a bit. He surveys the rapidly emptying countryside from under the shade of his hat.
"But you're right: this is a little slapdash. If you want to be privy to the Chant, there was some trouble getting the invitation. Nothing serious or compromising: the courier that was bringing it to our operation had a gambling problem and lost it in a game. Fortunately, our employer found the fence that bought it and liberated it himself. And settled with that courier... Anyhow, it's not like she's well known. We're headed into the sticks near the Qadiran border and Albercroft's set up in Oppara. You look close enough to her and it's not likely you'll get any more than chit chat."
Thrym affects the airs of a noble lady, with a thumb in the air and a twist of the wrist. His voice wavers in a sing-song trill.
" 'Oh, my dear, how I did LOVE those trinkets my father secured last fall! I simply MUST have some of my own!' 'Why I am ever-so DELIGHTED they've brought you pleasure, my dear! I will have to show you my most recent acquisitions when you visit Oppara next!' "
"See? Simple. So don't get worked up."
Addy frowns and gives a little sniff. "Yeah, I know the routine, Gorzal. But you also know that being prepared isn't something to just slough off."
She sits back a bit, watching some of the scenery go by. "Besides, even though most of our 'noble betters' are like that, you know as well as I do that some didn't get to where they are by being idiots. I'd much rather prepare for meeting them and end up dealing with the shallow end of the mental pool, rather than the other way around. It can be dangerous to under-estimate people, even the Taldan nobility. But it doesn't matter at this point. You're right, no reason to get worked up when nothing can be helped."
Malatar suspects that the captain may be over-charging them a little, but he decides that it is not worth haggling. He knows that he is not very diplomatic, and suspects that Will is as bad – or worse. The last thing he wants is for the captain to refuse them passage at all. Besides, they’re traveling on the Society’s coin …
He aggress to the price, not thinking to consult with Will first.
"Ah, yes, these are for Madame's exotic fish. If I may speak candidly, sir, I haven't even seen them and I do believe they are meant to be a surprise for the event. The water must be changed every day, but I've never seen the fish moved from the bath. Should be an amazing treat, sir, one of many."
"Ah, yes, of course," Marten says. "I won't let the cat out of the bag, as it were. Mum's the word!" He taps the side of his nose with his forefinger in an exaggerated fashion. "Well, you'd best get on. Wouldn't want to keep those fishies waiting!" With this, Marten turns on his heel and strides back up to his tent.
Malatar suspects that the captain may be over-charging them a little, but he decides that it is not worth haggling. He knows that he is not very diplomatic, and suspects that Will is as bad – or worse. The last thing he wants is for the captain to refuse them passage at all. Besides, they’re traveling on the Society’s coin …He aggress to the price, not thinking to consult with Will first.
William seems to think for a moment about the Captain's offer, but either he also knows little about the price of passage on ships, or he is distracted by the various styles of masthead figures on the ships in port, and says nothing deciding to let Malatar handle the bargaining.
He does open his mouth when Malatar agrees to the captain's price with out even trying, but closes it again at a glance filled with potential meaning from the warrior. So he simply smiles, nods his agreement, then follows Malatar back off the ship to find a money-changer.
"I don't know much about sailing, and only a little about haggling, but it seems to me that the general concencus is that you never take the first offer?!" He offers conversationally as they head down the docks, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the 'aromatic' bouquet of smells that a wharf usually provides.
Malatar shrugs his broad shoulders. “Ship’s headed where we want to go, and will arrive when we need to get there. We can afford it – and the Society is picking up the tab besides. Now,” he looks about the docks. “Let's find a money changer and get back here before they leave.”
William purses his lips thoughtfully, and nods his head sideways in what could be a gesture of acknowledgment, or maybe he had a crick in his neck.
"Good point. I've never traveled on anothers dime before. Heck, the only traveling I've ever done before was to come here! I suppose I should bow to your far greater experience." He admits reluctantly.
After a moment, he adds under his breath, not quite loud enough for Malatar to be sure he heard it,
"SO!? Which way to the nearest, legitimate, money-changer?" He asks innocently, looking doubtfully at the storefronts on the harborfront.
With very few alterations, the tailors in the costume tent iron out your costume and place it aside with a tag with your fake name on it. You leave the tent with a spring in your step into the twilight.
Zareby whistles a happy tune as he walks out of the tent and heads to the inn.
The Dancing Tabi is a cozy little inn and even though the hamlet is abuzz with activity, the common room is relatively quiet. Merchants and green-looking guards sit and chat, serving women bring orders of food and drink in between sessions of chit-chat. All the windows are open to allow the breeze in, the modest fire serving only to warm a kettle of water should a guest want tea. Zareby finds himself a nice booth and starts shuffling the deck.
Throughout the days leading up to the party, Zareby plays a good few games but his luck isn't as strong as it normally is and sometimes he ends up just playing without any stakes. Still, he turns a 3 gold profit and manages to make the acquaintance of some visiting caravaners, beast handlers and servants.
"Ah, yes, these are for Madame's exotic fish. If I may speak candidly, sir, I haven't even seen them and I do believe they are meant to be a surprise for the event. The water must be changed every day, but I've never seen the fish moved from the bath. Should be an amazing treat, sir, one of many.""Ah, yes, of course," Marten says. "I won't let the cat out of the bag, as it were. Mum's the word!" He taps the side of his nose with his forefinger in an exaggerated fashion. "Well, you'd best get on. Wouldn't want to keep those fishies waiting!" With this, Marten turns on his heel and strides back up to his tent.
The men nod and continue with their labors.
Addy frowns and gives a little sniff. "Yeah, I know the routine, Gorzal. But you also...
Gorzal shrugs.
"Ah, guess you can't be too careful. Anyhow, I'll be in to watch your coattails. Nothin' less suspicious than a halfling servant."The two of you pass the rest of the trip chatting or sitting in companionable silence. Gorzal Thrym is, as always, a professional. While he's certainly chummy enough to make small talk, he asks no personal questions nor volunteers any information about himself. Even though you're knew to the game and you understand the rules, it seems like an even lonelier existence than you had first imagined. Trust is a precious commodity and it's prudent to hoard.
You get a look at the things in the back; to your eye, it's easy to see that they're fakes but an amateur might be taken in. Still, it's a lot to hang your neck on and you may be able to lie about them being 'travel models' or something, the real ones being back in Oppara or some nonsense. There's a large tent fit for a noblewoman with all the dressings (though they look more fancy than fine; clearly not for someone of high stature). They didn't skimp on your gown at least: it's tailored to you very nicely, with a sleek profile and fine bits of ornamentation. There's also a fancy travel outfit so you can look appropriate for the part even when you first arrive.
The almost empty Taldane wilderness passes swiftly as you head south toward Golsifar. The splendor of the capital gives way to a depressed, faded countryside. Ugly and sad. Hamlets and towns are barely inhabited, fields lay fallow and it seems like even bandits have given up since the trip is uneventful beyond the occasional cow or traveller. After several days of travel you spot the small coastal town of Golsifar on your right, looking more inviting than any of the other spots you've seen. Especially since it started to shower a few hours prior. Only ten miles left to Ashinana's hamlet on the coast.
Tyr offers Lady Morrow a sip of wine, pressing close as he asks, "Now what about your intended... tell me all you can about him."
Lady Morrow sighs.
"Duke Gunrad Sallin is my intended and he is Duke of Ortalaca, some 120 miles from the coast. He has served in His Majesty's corps of officers directing cavalry and is quite an expert in military matters: the Sallin family takes great pride in their accomplishments in repelling the Qadirans when they crossed the Jalrune. He and Ashinana are similar in that they are both incredibly vain. Gunrad is also notable in his contributions to the Bank of Abadar and enjoys honorary status in the faith as a Votary. He is a tiresome gasbag of a man, but he's got a lot of influence for a man his age and he cuts a dashing figure."She delicately traces a finger from Silas' cheek to his lips, a coy smile on her face.
"Tell me he will be mine again, Master Tyr. Tell me our plan will succeed."
Malatar and Will
You agree to the captain's terms and shake on it. He informs you that they will depart at first light in the morning and that you're free to use the bunks once you've payed the fee. If you have any large luggage that needs to go in the hold, his men will bring it in for you.
You head down the docks, looking for a reputable moneychanger. You pass food stalls of various levels of quality, taverns of the roughest stripe and various warehouses. Even in the late afternoon, the quickwives, easy lads and pushmen are out for the first eager sailors. Several pawn shops offer a quicker alternative, but it's doubtful that you'll get a fair price. Finally, you find a moneychanger with a guild sigil in his window. With little small talk, he weighs the gems that Quent gave you and offers each of you 65 gold, minus his fee, bringing your take to 60 gold coins even. Quent may have a future as a moneychanger if he ever tires of being Venture Captain.
With the sunrise, you depart on the Taldane galley. Since neither of you are pureblooded Taldanes, even the cabin boy seems to stare down his nose at you during the trip but no one picks a fight or gives you trouble beyond that. The seas grow choppy when you near Golsifar and a chill rain breaks the humidity of the early summer air. Golsifar seems tiny compared to Absalom, but most places do. From the galley, you can see the shipyards and warehouses on the shore and the wooden piers waiting to greet you. The town itself is unremarkable, though the plumes of smoke from chimneys awaken a longing for solid land and warm accomodations. You land two days ahead of the masquerade party and only ten miles from the hamlet.
Will settles in for the journey, and is happy to discover that he has 'sea legs'. Or, at least he didn't get sick during the trip. Whether that's due to a solid constitution, or the fact that he is always studying something which may simply have distracted him from any uneasiness, is hard for him to tell, and he doesn't really care.
Despite the Taldane's 'aloofness', Will spends the trip trying to engage the men in discussions, about sailing, mostly. He tries to stay out of the way, while trying to investigate everything he can, whether he should or not. When (if) rebuffed by the sailors, he simply observes, noting certain observations in his journal. (He writes a brief summary of the start of the trip, nothing too wordy, wanting to save the journal for later, but ads sketches of the figurehead and basic ship's design next to his entries.)
William also spends some time working on his costume, having picked up most of what he needed from a storage room before they left, It is this that takes up most of the room in his pack, as his 'adventure pack' he had prepared is filled with useful items, but is hardly prepared for ANY contingency. After demonstrating his complete and utter ineptitude with a needle, he discovers that a simple cantrip, properly applied, and with time and concentration, can accomplish the simple stitches he needs without adding to the pain in his fingers.
As their destination slowly rolls into sight, Will is as happy as the crew. The first leg of his first assignment is almost complete! And the short trip has already allowed him to start on his tan. While not anywhere as dark as Malatar's, or other experienced travelers, at least he doesn't 'glow in the dark' compared to them anymore!
HE tries, mostly successfully, to stay out of the way of the sailors as they work to bring the ship into port, while trying to get a good look at the harbor as they approach.
Lady Morrow sighs.
"Duke Gunrad Sallin is my intended and he is Duke of Ortalaca, some 120 miles from the coast. He has served in His Majesty's corps of officers directing cavalry and is quite an expert in military matters: the Sallin family takes great pride in their accomplishments in repelling the Qadirans when they crossed the Jalrune. He and Ashinana are similar in that they are both incredibly vain. Gunrad is also notable in his contributions to the Bank of Abadar and enjoys honorary status in the faith as a Votary. He is a tiresome gasbag of a man, but he's got a lot of influence for a man his age and he cuts a dashing figure."She delicately traces a finger from Silas' cheek to his lips, a coy smile on her face.
"Tell me he will be mine again, Master Tyr. Tell me our plan will succeed."
"I have my methods but he will run to you for solace, my sweet peach."
Malatar is a mongrel true and proper, and he knows it. If he takes any offence at the Taldans’ attitude, he doesn’t show it. The warrior stays in his bunk for most of the journey, occasionally coming up on deck for some fresh air, as much due to his uneasy stomach as to avoid the crew.
He comes up onto deck as the ship approaches the harbour at Golsifar, sheltering out of the rain beside Will.
“So. Taldor,” he says, nodding towards the shore. He doesn’t sound particularly impressed. “We’ll get a warm bed here tonight, then head out to the estate on the morrow. Should be walkable. Even if we get there a day or so early, we should be able to find lodgings in the village.”
As soon as the ship docks, Mal nods his thanks to the Captain and heads out into town, looking for a place to stay. He’s not too fussy, as long as he can get a room with a clean, warm bed. If Will wants to take the lead on selecting an inn, Mal’s happy enough to let him.
Will also waves his thanks to the captain, and follows Malatar off the ship. He wobbles a little as he gets used to walking on a surface that isn't constantly trying to tip under him. He nods at Malatar's comments.
"Sounds good, give me a chance to note anything of interest in town. And arriving a day early is a good idea. If people coming are bringing their own items, they will arrive early so that they have time to set them up as well. At the very least we can get an overview of who actually deigned to show up before we get down to business!" He says, clapping and rubbing his hands together.
"So, anything about Taldor I should know about? I mean besides what;s in the history books? OBviously the sailors didn't think we were worth getting to know."
HE continues to chat amiably, rambling on about a variety of subjects, loosely related at best, as they walk the streets. He is observing everything, but makes no move to declare one inn suitable over another, letting the more experienced Malatar make that decision.
They didn't skimp on your gown at least: it's tailored to you very nicely, with a sleek profile and fine bits of ornamentation. There's also a fancy travel outfit so you can look appropriate for the part even when you first arrive.
Addy looks over the costume; the Osiriani High Priestess' outfit was very authentic-looking, if a bit on the revealing side. At least the dark eye makeup and the traditional black wig would go a long ways to hiding her most obvious half-elven features. Addy's knowledge of Pharasman religious practices was practically nil, but she didn't think that would be any issue, considering it wouldn't necessarily be expected in this social setting.
As the two travelers approach Golsifar, a warm bath and bed does sound inviting. However, getting to the hamlet and getting a look at things might be a good thing, too. "What do you think, Gorzal? Stop tonight in Golsifar, get this road dust cleaned up? We can head to estate tomorrow morning, first thing. That should still give us a few days to poke around and see what's what. Besides, too early an arrival would be against the nature of a Taldan noblewoman ..."
Malatar and Will
The captain gives each of you a respectful handshake.
"Glad for your patronage, boys. We'll be in dock for a few days then make our way north if you need passage then. Fair journey."
Golsifar is a fairly small port town; beyond the docks there doesn't seem to be much but modest residential neighborhoods. You spot miserable guardsmen clustered under awnings and around fires here and there: they squint at you through the rain and leave you unmolested. The dockside taverns ("The Bilge Eel" and "Sailor's Rest") are a bit dingy, but offer a cheap place to sack out near the fire if you don't mind sleeping on the floor. Further toward the land bound wall is "Tomas' Last Resort": a three-story inn with a stable. The windows spill warm light into the rainy evening and you can hear the sound of conversation and revelry within.
"I have my methods but he will run to you for solace, my sweet peach."Lady Morrow sighs.
"Duke Gunrad Sallin is my intended and he is Duke of Ortalaca, some 120 miles from the coast. He has served in His Majesty's corps of officers directing cavalry and is quite an expert in military matters: the Sallin family takes great pride in their accomplishments in repelling the Qadirans when they crossed the Jalrune. He and Ashinana are similar in that they are both incredibly vain. Gunrad is also notable in his contributions to the Bank of Abadar and enjoys honorary status in the faith as a Votary. He is a tiresome gasbag of a man, but he's got a lot of influence for a man his age and he cuts a dashing figure."She delicately traces a finger from Silas' cheek to his lips, a coy smile on her face.
"Tell me he will be mine again, Master Tyr. Tell me our plan will succeed."
She presses her hand against your chest and purrs,"Excellent. Having experienced some of your... methods, I trust that you won't disappoint."
The first drops of rain hit the roof of your carriage and soon a you're caught in a summer downpour. The carriage slows in the now muddy road, the driver exercising plenty of caution. Through the window, you can see the small port town of Golsifar as evening encroaches.
Lady Morrow opens the panel to the driver's seat.
"Harman, pull into Golsifar and we'll find lodging. I don't believe we'll be going any further tonight."
The man nods and the carriage turns toward the modest walls of Golsifar. You are stopped by the guard for only a moment before your carriage is ushered into the town. You are conveyed through the almost empty streets to the first suitable inn, a two story structure with the strange name "Tomas' Last Resort". The driver stops the carriage and rushes over to the lady's side with a large umbrella, with which he escorts the both of you to the door of the inn before rushing back to take care of the tired horses.
The common room is busy, but not packed. A number of travelers have had the same idea as you and came here for shelter from the rain. There's an interesting cross-section of folk, from merchants to a nobleman's retinue to a hard-looking bunch in the corner that look like adventurers or mercenaries of some kind. A serving girl curtsies to you both and leads you to the counter where Lady Morrow rents the best rooms they have available from an affable man with a mop of curly hair and a goatee. You can see that he hobbles when he goes for the key. Several halfling bus boys and waitresses scurry about with large plates.
"Master Tyr, I believe I will take my dinner upstairs as these last few days of travel have been quite wearying. I will await you there if you prefer to dine in the common room."
They didn't skimp on your gown at least: it's tailored to you very nicely, with a sleek profile and fine bits of ornamentation. There's also a fancy travel outfit so you can look appropriate for the part even when you first arrive.
Addy looks over the costume; the Osiriani High Priestess' outfit was very authentic-looking, if a bit on the revealing side. At least the dark eye makeup and the traditional black wig would go a long ways to hiding her most obvious half-elven features. Addy's knowledge of Pharasman religious practices was practically nil, but she didn't think that would be any issue, considering it wouldn't necessarily be expected in this social setting.
As the two travelers approach Golsifar, a warm bath and bed does sound inviting. However, getting to the hamlet and getting a look at things might be a good thing, too. "What do you think, Gorzal? Stop tonight in Golsifar, get this road dust cleaned up? We can head to estate tomorrow morning, first thing. That should still give us a few days to poke around and see what's what. Besides, too early an arrival would be against the nature of a Taldan noblewoman ..."
Gorzal nods vigorously.
"My sentimonies exactly. Besides, I doubt I'll have anything nicer than a hard pallet for the next few days. Might as well find a nice bed while we have the opportunity and you can get into character, make sure you're seen a bit before the party and make a fine entrance."
He urges the cart into the small port town and through the wet streets. You can see a place called "Tomas' Last Resort" coming up: two story structure, clearly an inn with a terrible pun name. Doesn't look like a last resort sort of place, though and it's clearly doing fine business. A servant hops into an ornate carriage in the courtyard and takes the whole thing to the stables in the courtyard.
"Well,"says Gorzal,"this looks a likely place. Why don't I take care of this and you can warm up inside? I'd escort you, but I'm afraid I look rather ridiculous with that huge umbrella...."
Will doesn't say anything about where they should stay, but his constant wrinkling of the nose while they walk the wharf area leaves no doubt as to his feelings. As they leave the docks and move towards the wall he becomes more comfortable. As they approach the Inn "Tomas' Last Resort", he smiles.
"Good choice Mal!" He says with a smile. He quickens his steps, obviously looking forward to getting out of the rain.
Marten passes the next few days getting into character and staying out of trouble. Visitors continue pouring into the hamlet by the day, filling up the Dancing Tabi to capacity and setting up richly appointed tents. The few craftsmen and other folk making their permanent residence here seem completely aghast when you see them.
Malatar sighs then shrugs as Will heads towards the most expensive looking inn in town – and inferring that the choice was Mal’s.
“Ah well,” he mutters to himself. “We can afford it, and a real bed will be nice …” He follows Will towards the inn, mentally calculating whether he’ll still have enough spending money to pay a girl for an evening’s company after paying the no doubt more expensive food and accommodation costs at this place.
Addy hops down out of the cart and straightens her road clothes out a bit, trying to brush the worst of the road mud off, but without much success in the rain. Thatnkfully, her regular travelling clothes weren't that far off what a minor or new noble might wear when on a long journey. "See you in a few moments, then," she calls back, as she straightens her back and purposefully strides into the inn, acting for all the world as if she owns the place.
As she walks in, she does a quick scan of the common room, then waits, expecting someone to come over and attend to her. Assuming the servant girl comes over, Addy will ask to be taken to where she can rent some rooms, and then ask for a table with a bottle of good wine waiting.
To the man behind the counter, she announce who she is (Lady Viviana Albercroft), and demand the best rooms available.
Malatar and Will, a few minutes before Addy and Silas.
The warm common room is a balm on your wet skins, candles are lit on each table and lanterns hang from the eaves, leaving the room awash in light against the rainy evening. Tomas' Last Resort is busy, but there are available tables here and there. Somewhat to Mal's relief the place doesn't look as fancy inside as it did outside: there are chips and scores in the table here and there and no one's too dressed up. The patrons seem mostly to be merchants, craftsmen and caravan guards with an odd noble's retinue here and there.
A man with a mop of curly hair and a goatee greets you when you enter from behind the bar.
"Welcome, gentlemen! Come in, dry your cloaks, warm up with a pint! Just come in off the road? If you're in need of lodgings, we have several rooms open."
At a word from a pretty serving girl, maybe 15 years old, he starts filling a few tankards with beer, waiting your response.
The door opens behind you and in steps a lovely, tall woman with brown hair and green eyes . She looks about the common room imperiously and then turns to the proprietor behind the bar, announcing herself as Lady Viviana Albercroft and demanding the finest room he has.
The man bows his head, putting the tankards on a tray. "Of course, my lady. One of our finest suites is available for two gold marks. Katrine can show you up when you're ready."
He indicates the serving girl and pulls out a bottle of wine for your table.
Will nods and smiles at the happy innkeeper. (Or at least the 'Happy to see business' innkeeper!) He starts to take off his soggy travel cloak and opens his mouth, and is interrupted by the entrance of the noble lady. He looks at Mal and raises an eyebrow, then shrugs in a 'Meh, Whatcha' gonna do?' manner.
"Yes. A pint would be great. Thanks." Will's mildly gravely voice answers the innkeep as he crosses the room. "And a room too. OR two rooms, if there not too expensive." He grins slightly, obviously amused by his own pun.
"Not the best room, obviously." He adds, with a nod in the noblewoman's direction.
Will reaches gratefully for the mug the man pours and slides towards him. He takes a long draft for such a skinny fellow, and sighs contentedly when he puts it back down.
"Ah. I needed that. I may be soaked on the outside, but I was parched on the inside. Now I'm a matched set!" He declares to no one, licking the foam from his upper lip.
The door opens behind you and in steps a lovely, tall woman with brown hair and green eyes . She looks about the common room imperiously and then turns to the proprietor behind the bar, announcing herself as Lady Viviana Albercroft and demanding the finest room he has.
The man bows his head, putting the tankards on a tray. "Of course, my lady. One of our finest suites is available for two gold marks. Katrine can show you up when you're ready."
He indicates the serving girl and pulls out a bottle of wine for your table.
"My thanks, good man. My servant will be in shortly. We would like to rest a bit here, perhaps take dinner." Addy removes three gold coins and hands them to the man. "And a hot bath prepared for when I retire would be appreciated."
She walks over to the table given her, and pours herself a glass of the wine. As she awaits Gorzal, she surveys the room, unsmiling.
The innkeeper gratefully accepts Lady Albercroft's coins and assures her that her accommodations will be made ready.
"Yes. A pint would be great. Thanks." Will's mildly gravely voice answers the innkeep as he crosses the room. "And a room too. OR two rooms, if there not too expensive." He grins slightly, obviously amused by his own pun.
"Not the best room, obviously." He adds, with a nod in the noblewoman's direction.
The publican smiles.
"Of course, sir, we've got a fine variety of accommodations. A nice private suite is two gold marks, while a bunk upstairs is five silver coins. If money is an object, of course, we can bring you some blankets to sleep by the hearth after we clear the tables. Whatever suits you best, gentlemen. Just let us know when you decide."As "Lady Albercroft" takes her seat and the serving girl brings her a bottle of wine and a glass....
A soaked halfling in a drooping hat walks into the common room carrying a trunk that seems far too large for him. The innkeeper excuses himself from his conversation with William and Malatar to assist him. The servant speaks like a man that isn't soaked to his skins:
"Thank you, sir! If you can direct me to my lady Albercroft's suite..."
"Of course, of course. Let's head up the stairs, here...."
Will nods his appreciation to the innkeep, and watches the soggy halfling attempting to maneuver the large trunk upstairs with a wry smirk. Not laughing AT the halfling so much as identifying with him. HE wrings water out of his own sleeves and shakes his head with a sigh.
"WHat good is magic if you can't use it for your own benefit,... once in a while? I mean, blasting enemies with fire and lightning is all fine and dandy, but how about just being comfortable? Or at least dry?" Will grumbles to Mal as he wrings more water out of his clothes. Then he blinks.
"Well,... d@mn. Of course it can! One 'Practical Uses of Basic Magic' lesson 101 coming right up!" Will says with a smirk. HE interlaces his thin fingers and flexes his hands, popping his knuckles. Then wiggles them a bit, and mutters a phrase you can't,... quite,... hear, under his breath. He holds his right hand over his left arm, and slowly moves his hand down the length of his arm. As his hand passes down his arm, the clothing dries almost instantly, giving off small puffs of steam as it does. Will looks at Mal with a grin. Then he purses his lips and rolls his eyes.
"I know, I know." HE mumbles. "It would be a lot more impressive if I could just snap my fingers and dry us both instantly. I'm working with what I've got here! Come on, I'll dry you first. If I use both hands it should only take half as long,..." And he sets to work drying off the majority of the warrior. After getting Mal mostly dry, he begins working on his own soggy clothing, taking deep, appreciative swigs of ale in between sections. By the time he is done, the air in their corner of the room is positively sauna-esqe, and judging by Will's grin, he is feeling pleasantly buzzed.
Mal settles in at the bar beside Will, putting a couple of coppers down and indicating the tapped beer barrel with a nod of his head. When the noblewoman enters, he returns Will’s raised eyebrow, the shrugs slightly, a wry expression on his face.
Once he has his beer mug in hand (and a swig of it down his throat), he turns, leaning his elbows against the bar, surveying the room.
“Room, thanks,” he says to the barkeep over his shoulder. Will starts going on about being soaked, and something about magic. Malatar surveys the other patrons, though his gaze keeps returning to the noblewoman. No bodyguard, he thinks. Odd. Unless there’s more to the halfling than meets the eye…
Suddenly, he feels Will tugging at his sleeve, and registers some of what he’s been saying. “Use both hands? Half as long? What in the Hells?” in his bewilderment, he doesn’t stop Will from casting the spell, and although he’s about to admonish the mage for the public display of magic (and familiarity), he has to admit that it’s good to be dry.
“Thanks,” he mutters grudgingly.
"William! What a fine time to see you." Silas waves at William, "Introduce me to your companion."
"William, I have a little project which requires your participation. It will give you an opportunity to exercise some of the things that I have been teaching you. Imagine a seminar here. Why other artists will be jealous of you?"
For William
Adelaine sat back in her chair a bit, sipping her glass of wine. Not bad, she thought. Still not as good as some of the Chelaxian vintages, but … eh, beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose.
She smiled inwardly as she watched the drenched Gorzal and the other man struggle with the large chest. Being a noblewoman has its perks, I guess. Sipping wine and drying by the fire while your ‘servant’ handles the mundane tasks. Nice. Looking around for the serving girl, Addy hailed her down. Smiling broadly, she says, “Some dinner, please, whatever you have hot.” Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “Oh, and when my servant comes back down, you can see if he’d like something, as well.”
Sitting back again, Addy once again looked about the room. Most of the patrons seemed singularly unremarkable, save an elven man and a pair of travelers at another table. While the elf was quite handsome, Addy still found herself looking on with distaste at the man. She was smart enough to realize that it was likely due to her own mixed heritage and the fact she never knew her mother, and that it was illogical to hold an entire race responsible for her own lousy childhood (and really, how many thousands could claim the same, without forming their own prejudices?). Nevertheless, the feelings remained.
As the elven man called out to one of the pair seated at the other table, Addy’s gaze shifted to the two. The one the elf called ‘William’ or ‘Will’ seemed to be a bit of the stereotypical scholar-type: dressed practically, average-but-not-muscular build, and probably boring as hell. Watching him perform a minor magic spell to dry his and his friend’s clothing confirmed her impression – probably a wizard or a sorcerer, and most likely the former.
The other man, almost the exact opposite of his companion, was large and well-built, with close-cropped graying hair and a mesh of scars, several on his face. A warrior of some kind, and the way he kept looking around the room seemed to give the impression he had seen his share of fighting. After a bit, Addy realized that the man’s gaze kept settling on herself, and wasn’t just randomly scanning the crowd. Not good. Probably not tailing us; anyone who could have gone this long at being undetected wouldn’t be so obvious now. Do I pretend to ignore it, or confront head-on? And why do I ask myself such stupid questions, when I know damn well how I’ll handle it?
Smiling her brightest smile, but one with little trace of amusement, Adelaine speaks to Malatar, “Can I help you, kind sir?”
“Thanks,” he mutters grudgingly.
"Hm? Oh, your welcome!" Will responds absent-mindedly, absorbed in the drying of his own clothes, and completely missing any hints, blatant or oblique, about public displays of magic and/or personal space. He is finally dry and almost comfortable, working the last of the water out of his cloak, when he is hailed by a friendly, familiar voice. Will blinks, as he takes a moment to reconcile the familiar voice with the unfamiliar surroundings,...
"William! What a fine time to see you." Silas waves at William, "Introduce me to your companion."
Will peers almost nearsightedly at the newcomer. "Silas?" His eyes go wide with a genuine smile as he recognizes his friend.
"Silas! Fancy running into you here! What are the odds?" He asks jovially, then his eyes start to glaze as he begins the mental project of actually calculating,... only to be interrupted by Silas' continued energetic greeting. He smiles and gestures to Mal, weaving only a little too much as he does so.
"Silas, this is Malatar, my partner and bodyguard for this trip. Malatar, this is Silas, A cleric of some reknown and an excellent lecturer. Even if I can NOT seem to manage real-world application of his theories to save my life,..." Will mumbles off, obviously grumpy about that particular sore spot.
"William, I have a little project which requires your participation. It will give you an opportunity to exercise some of the things that I have been teaching you. Imagine a seminar here. Why other artists will be jealous of you?"
SIlas whispers in William's ear: "It involves a woman!"
Will looks at Silas at first with undisguised interest, then narrows his eyes. He responds in a soft whisper.
"Silas, since when have YOU ever needed help with just ONE woman? Your not losing your touch, are you?!?" He raises an eyebrow, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile. Silas can tell that Will's protests are purely habit. He's interested, and Silas knows it.
"Touch, no, not losing it in the least."
Silas rubs his chin, "You see William an awesome opportunity just landed on your lap."
"Come let's talk it over here in private."
For William
Silas motions for a barmaid and whispers in her ear, "Some red wine, elvish if you have it." He nibbles playfully on her ear and looks at her with a desperate hunger, one designed to provoke a highly sexual reaction.
Bluff Check to Seduce The Barmaid 1d20+5=24
"I can smell you, my dear."
"Touch, no, not losing it in the least."
Silas rubs his chin, "You see William an awesome opportunity just landed on your lap."
"Come let's talk it over here in private."
"Scuze us,..." Will mumbles vaguely in Malatar's direction as his friend leads him away from the bar to a table. As they sit, Silas whispers in his friend's ear, Will shakes his head.
"Naw, He's ok. he's actually along to keep me out of trouble. Seems that my reputation for smooth talking and making friends has preceded me." Will says with a straight face, Irony and sarcasm fighting it out for room on his tongue.
"Actually we're on a mission for the 'finders. New captain's too busy to make the trip, so we're his resenta,.. reprehensibles,.. fillin' in for him. Some upper crust is having a party to show off her new antiques. We're the official envoys." Will continues, sadly shaking off his pleasant buzz. He's new to this game, but Silas is a 'player', and an experienced one at that. It's no secret that he's with the Pathfinders now, but he's not sure how much he's supposed to tell anyone, even a friend.
Silas motions for a barmaid and whispers in her ear, "Some red wine, elvish if you have it." He nibbles playfully on her ear and looks at her with a desperate hunger, one designed to provoke a highly sexual reaction.
"I can smell you, my dear."
Will rolls his eyes, and buries his face in his nearly empty mug. He only resurfaces after the barmaid has left to procure Silas's glass of wine, and probably anything else that he asks for.
"How DO you do that?!?" Will asks plaintively, staring at the cleric with only a hint of jealousy.
"Nevermind. So tell me all about this 'awesome opportunity'." He says, mimicking his friend's speech with a grin, and glancing pointedly at his now-empty mug.
Malatar is tired and still a little sick. He’s not at his most alert and suddenly events begin moving to fast for him.
“Wait, Will, you know the elf? What are the odds?” The last said in a suspicious mutter. He reaches for the wizard’s sleeve, but the elf is already leading Will away. Mal starts to get up to follow, but next thing the pretty noblewoman is standing before him, smiling (but not in an entirely friendly fashion) and asking him something. He can hardly get up without pushing past her (or moving closer than she’d probably appreciate at any rate) and he’s not sure he wants to risk that sort of trouble right now.
He looks after Will, shakes his head, then turns his gaze to the woman in front of him, taking in all the details – including looking for any concealed weapons, spell component pouches or the like. But he’s obviously not looking in the right places …
“Hmmm? Can you help me … um, probably not,” he replies atfter a moment. “Didn’t mean to offend lady … just thinking it seemed odd for a lady of wealth to be travelling with her halfling servant and loads of baggage, but no bodyguard.” He shrugs and takes another mouthful of ale, looking for her reaction over the top of the mug.
Malatar is tired and still a little sick. He’s not at his most alert and suddenly events begin moving to fast for him.
“Wait, Will, you know the elf? What are the odds?” The last said in a suspicious mutter. He reaches for the wizard’s sleeve, but the elf is already leading Will away. Mal starts to get up to follow, but next thing the pretty noblewoman is standing before him, smiling (but not in an entirely friendly fashion) and asking him something. He can hardly get up without pushing past her (or moving closer than she’d probably appreciate at any rate) and he’s not sure he wants to risk that sort of trouble right now.
He looks after Will, shakes his head, then turns his gaze to the woman in front of him, taking in all the details – including looking for any concealed weapons, spell component pouches or the like. But he’s obviously not looking in the right places …
“Hmmm? Can you help me … um, probably not,” he replies atfter a moment. “Didn’t mean to offend lady … just thinking it seemed odd for a lady of wealth to be travelling with her halfling servant and loads of baggage, but no bodyguard.” He shrugs and takes another mouthful of ale, looking for her reaction over the top of the mug.
Addy gives a quick laugh, and looks at the large man square in the eye, still smiling. “You know, you’re right! How very foolish of little ol’ me! It’s an absolute miracle we made it through alive. And I suppose you and your mage friend are JUST the bodyguards we need to complete our journey?” Her face becomes a little more serious-looking as she leans a little closer. “Or are you the folks we should be watching out for?”
She leans back out, and the smile returns, perhaps a little more friendly, but also a bit more … predatory. “No offense taken. I don’t believe you are highwaymen, especially observing your friend. He hardly seems the type to take up life as a bandit. But, then again, appearances can be deceiving, can’t they, Mr …?
Silas motions for a barmaid and whispers in her ear, "Some red wine, elvish if you have it." He nibbles playfully on her ear and looks at her with a desperate hunger, one designed to provoke a highly sexual reaction.Bluff Check to Seduce The Barmaid 1d20+5=24
"I can smell you, my dear."
The barmaid's face flushes to match her ginger hair and she let's out a nervous little giggle of pleasure. Say one thing for Silas Tyr, say he never sleeps in a cold bed. She returns a moment later with a fine vintage in an expensive looking elvish bottle and refills Will's tankard.
"Actually we're on a mission for the 'finders. New captain's too busy to make the trip, so we're his resenta,.. reprehensibles,.. fillin' in for him. Some upper crust is having a party to show off her new antiques. We're the official envoys." Will continues, sadly shaking off his pleasant buzz. He's new to this game, but Silas is a 'player', and an experienced one at that. It's no secret that he's with the Pathfinders now, but he's not sure how much he's supposed to tell anyone, even a friend.
"Upper crust? Tell me her name, William."
"Quick, quick, don't be shy. We're friends here."
For the Warden