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 Recent Posts 
“This Cor situation is becoming serious,” says Aldaeth, giving Irulan an appreciative nod, whilst trying to shake his arm free of the half-orc's grasp. “I think it may be worth the head of Sivas security losing some sleep over, hmmm? The good men and women of the Sharn city watch certainly are….” Turning to his rather strange half-orcish companion he says, "It's a Dragonmark. The Mark of Storm in fact. Come my good fellow, you must have seen a Dragonmark before?"
“I can assure you sir that I am indeed a member of House Lyrander – but it is commendable for you not to take me at face value, it would be amazing – were it not so despicable – what some people will claim!” Aldaeth reaches into his belt pouch and draws out a palm sized, pentagonal document case. “Here are my identity papers, confirming my name and my identity as a scion of the House of Storm. And – as papers can be forged – though I assure you these are not! – here,” he, rather dramatically rolls up his sleeve, “is my Mark. I am sure you will see that it is a genuine Mark of Storm, and only a member of House Lyrander could bear such.” He pauses to allow the guard to examine the scintillating Dragonmark adorning his arm. “As for the question of the Captain sending us – well, I have this note – here it is – written in the good Captain’s handwriting, telling me to meet with your head of security. As for my companions..” Aldaeth conducts a quick introduction.
“Good sir, please excuse my large companion,” Aldaeth interjects smoothly. “We are agents acting on behalf of the city Watch – Captain Torrim specifically. We’re investigating this ‘incident’ with Cor d’Sivas, and quite urgently need to speak to Jebeddo d’Beren. Please inform the head of security that Aldaeth d’Lyrander,” he puts emphasis on his House name, “and companions are here on urgent business.”
"What can I do for you? I presume you're here to talk about the reward for the gnome? You want information about what he's like, the kinds of places he frequents, what he did and such? in a tired voice. “We certainly are sir,” Aldaeth answers. “Anything that we can do to help our dedicated, over-worked, underpaid city watch…”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Al. Name’s Al. Well, Aldaeth actually, d’Lyrandar – but don’t hold that against me,” he winks, clasping the man’s hand. “My lovely companion here – why, you didn’t actually tell me your name did you?” he turns to the scimitar wielding elf and gives her a friendly smile. “Of course, I have met Irulan, and who is your hulking companion there?”
Aldaeth stands, then holds out his hand to help his companion climb down from her bar stool. They reach the door at the same time as the human, half orc and elf from further up the bar. “Ah, ‘twould seem we’re all after the same prize,” comments Aldaeth to the scar faced human. “Perhaps it is worth pooling our resources? I would think this gnome a tricky customer if the Watch are offering such a reward for his capture…”
“Ah, of course, the Festival of Fortune,” he says, nodding to the crowd below. “A good time to be in Sharn! And perhaps the god’s fortune will smile on us. Shall we proceed to the Watch house?”
“On the house you say Gear? Yeah, sure, I’m thinking of going after that thief, we can’t just have people running around flaunting the laws of this great city now, can we?” He flashes a grin back at the second elven lady – the one who actually appeared to be paying attention to him, although he noted that she had not actually given him her name. “You’re certainly right m’lady, it is a magnificent city. I remember the first time I came here, years back now, seeing the towers climbing higher and higher, before being lost in the fog… it’s something. Oh, and you want to watch that mead, it can go right to your head if you gulp it like that!” He draws slightly closer to the woman, leaning in and lowering his voice in a conspiratorial fashion. “It seems that those two fellows further down the bar,” he indicates the scarred human and the big half orc with a flick of his eyes, “are planning to seek that reward for the gnome thief. Money moves quickly in this town, as you may have noticed, and a share in two hundred gold is nothing to be scoffed at. You look like a woman of action, what do you say, should we join them? Or perhaps even beat them to the punch eh? You, me, and your friend too if she wants in,” he adds, indicating the other elven woman. “If nothing else, it will be an excuse and an opportunity to see more of the city.”
Grudgingly handing over the coins to Gear, Aldaeth takes his drink in hand. “Irulan,” he says, “that’s a pretty name.” He then realises that his flattery has been wasted as the woman seems more interested in the activity of the room than him. Well. Not one to be deterred, he turns to the elven woman on the other side of him, the one carrying the scimitar. “What brings you to Sharn then m’lady?” he asks.
“The Dragonwing,” he repeats. “Well, as I said, I shall think on it,” he says and leaves for the bar. “Well, perhaps it is my lucky day,” thinks Aldaeth to himself, as he reaches the bar and notices another elven woman standing near the one he noticed earlier. He frowns slightly, as he notices that both seem somewhat ill at ease in this place; which may suggest they will not be partial to being approached by strange men… but then he gives an ironic grin. “Nothing strange about me, is there? And nothing gained if nothing tried!” Squeezing himself into the space between the two women, he waves to Gear, who has just finished speaking to the woman with the scimitar. “Good eve Gear, another glass of the good house wine if you would?” He then turns his head to look at the two elves. “And a good evening to you both too,” he says. “It began as such a quiet evening, but the place is getting almost rowdy isn’t it? I’m Aldaeth by the way, Aldaeth d’Lyrandar.”
Before Aldaeth can answer the woman, there is a brief burst of excitement as the Watch bursts in with talk of a reward for some gnome. “Hmmm,” thinks Adlaeth to himself, “two hundred easy gold certainly sounds better than two hundred days ship-board to earn the same…” Noting that the woman was quick to conceal herself at the sight of the Watch (but with her apparent profession that was no surprise), Aldaeth says, “Well my lady, that offer sounds most generous, but you understand that I will need some time to think on it. I did not come to this place tonight looking specifically for work, more for good drink and good company. Give me the evening to ponder, and I’ll let you know, Miss…?” realising that he doesn’t yet know the woman’s name. “In the meantime, I’m going to buy a drink, talk to some people. Who knows, I may meet someone else who would be right for your project.” With that Aldaeth stands, bows, and heads over to the bar.
"Excellant." She says with a smile. "You're hired, Mr...?We mean to intercept some valuble shipments from Xen'drik and the rest of Khorvaire. We've had word of a shipment of some ancient valubles coming from Stormreach to here and if we can meet them halfway... We could all become a little wealthier. We don't expect to just sail up to them march aboard and take treasure without a fight, hence while we need people with some combat expertise. Where do your particular talents lie? Do you know anyone else who fullfils our requirements? We just need to figure out how much to pay you and everything should be in working order." “Aldaeth,” he replies, taking her hand. “My particular talents? Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that… but the job at hand; as I previously stated, I have no fear of breaking laws, and I am hardly one to judge the morals of others. But piracy? You play a dangerous game ma’am. You must be aware that many of the ships that ply the ocean twixt here and Xen’drik are owned by the Houses, or else the journey’s paid for by them. Is there a particular House you are targeting in this case?” He raises an eyebrow, awaiting a response. “In addition, whilst I can and will fight, I will have no part in killing common sailors trying to protect their ship. That is not my style, and if it is yours, I must wish you well on your endevour, but take my leave from you at this point.” Aldaeth’s attention is caught by some of the going’s on in the room, but he keeps his eye firmly on the woman.
Aldaeth smiles confidently. Not exactly what he had in mind this evening, but looking for work was certainly near the top of his ‘to do’ list. “Oh, I’ve had experience at sea,” he replies, ticking off points on the fingers of his upheld hand. “Check. Quick learner – check. Competent fighter,” he nods towards the weapons piled with his gear, “check. Stealth – check. And laws are made to be broken – or at least twisted to one’s advantage I always say. So,” he continues, seating herself at his table with a graceful flourish, “I suppose I could consider myself hired. Of course, I’d need to know a little more about the project before I commit myself to the job.”
Aldaeth raises one of his finely shaped eyebrows enquiringly. “Hardly,” he replies to the woman. “I think I am not quite cut out for a career in the King’s Citadel, nor the Church of the Flame. Given that, how may I serve you?” The lady seemed competent and to know exactly what she wanted, which Aldaeth admired.
“Hmmm, things seem to be looking up,” Aldaeth murmurs to himself, noticing the beautiful – if somewhat rustic – elf walk into the tavern and look around. Valenar? Could be … the garb and the scimitar seemed to indicate so, but the woman seemed somehow a lot less confident than the average Valenari elf.
His musings missed him the chance to catch the woman’s eye, and her own gaze swept by him seemingly without notice, before she heads to the bar. As the music picks up tempo with the advent of the evening crowd, Aldaeth quickly finishes his drink, stands, flashes the room a roguish smile and begins to head towards the bar – until he all of a sudden notices that the woman who had earlier been talking to a couple of sailors is watching him appraisingly. Hmmm. “Maybe she likes sailors,” he thinks, glancing down at his sea boots and the nautical cut of his jacket. Well, this one might be an easier catch than the elf anyway. He begins heading towards the woman’s table, taps the man talking to her on the shoulder – “excuse me,” – and leans forward towards her. “Good eve,” he begins, flashing her a grin, “I was just on my way to the bar, when mine eyes were drawn to you. May I buy you a drink my lady?”
A tall half elven man sits by himself at a small table, his back to the wall, facing the front door. He has long dark hair, neatly combed and tied back behind his head, and a small, neatly trimmed goatee beard and moustache. His piercing blue eyes shine beneath his finely arched eyebrows. He is slim and attractive and wears well tailored, though relatively plain travellers clothes, as well as a suit of serviceable looking leather armour. A shortbow and quiver of arrows leans against a full backpack, resting by his feet. The man’s eyes scan the room, as he sips his drink. Several empty cups litter the table before him, although he appears little the worse for wear for the drinking. --- “Ah, civilisation,” Aldaeth toasts quietly to himself, before starting his next drink. Although this little tavern is not exactly his idea of civilisation … not nearly rowdy enough, and not nearly enough attractive women making eyes at him. Still, it is a far sight better than being stuck for weeks on a desolate rock in the Teeth … with that hole down into, for all Aldaeth knew, the depths of Khyber … and the things at night… Aldaeth shudders and quickly turns his mind from such thoughts. Well, one thing was to be said for this place, it was unlikely that he would run into any ranking members of House Lyrander here. He had had quite enough of his extended family over the last week, enduring the continual dressing downs and admonishments from the House elders. By the Host, it was only one ship he had lost! One … very expensive, experimental elemental powered ship, with new House Lyrander technology on board. Alright, so he could see why his ‘favoured in House’ status had been revoked (probably for a long time), but he was still after all a Marked heir, not a child or a dullard. And he hardly saw what the amount he had imbibed the night before the voyage, or the number of young ladies he had entertained on that same eve, had to do with the price of fish in Flamekeep! It was, after all, a week into the voyage when things had gone wrong. Aldeath sighed. Either way, he intended to keep away from Dragon Towers for some time … lie low, make some money, put together some schemes … come back and show them. The question was, whether to get out of Sharn for a bit, or see what could be made of what in the city? Lost in thought, Aldeath gives only passing notice to the happenings in the inn, more interested in finding a likely looking person to buy him his next drink – or perhaps a friendly woman to warm his bed this eve. Or failing both of the above, at least a lead on how to make some money! ---
Well, he wasn’t going to achieve much sitting here on his own. Time to make a move soon… |
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