Located in exclusive Skyway, Vraxeris Manor had a privileged vantage point; it's gaping windows gazing out beyond the limits of the city proper. The morning sun played on the water of the Dagger River; the heatwaves rising up gave the promise of a beautiful day.
Sim looked around his chamber. It was exceedingly opulent; lavish fixtures and beautiful antiques surrounded him. But the corners seemed dark, the shelves seemed dusty. His expensive breakfast sat, untouched, on his dresser. He felt distant from it all. It was all in stark contrast to the warmth of the sun.
Leaning on the windowsill, Sim closed his eyes, and let the sun wash over his face. He tried to stretch that moment into eternity. A passing cloud was enough to bring him back, present in this day. Turning from the window, he took a few steps around his room, gathering the courage that he would need to face today.
His birthday.
Or rather, the birthday of Sillas ir'Vraxeris, the young man he had murdered and whose identity he had stolen a few years prior. A shudder passed through him. Even now Sim heard the hurried movements of servants outside his chamber, busily preparing for tonight's celebrations. He had feigned illness every other year, but was determined this year to accept the event with open arms.
Almost unconsciously, his hand slipped to his coinpurse. He chuckled to himself at the hefty weight of it. What more could he possibly receive? He had not known want or lack since the day he stole Sillas' identity.
A knock on his chamber door instinctively shifted his hand from coinpurse to rapier hilt in a flash. Catching himself, he let go of the weapon; years on the streets honed his reflexes. No amount of pretending could erase his true past.
The knock came again, louder this time.
Taking a deep breathe Sim composes himself "I am Sillas ir'Vraxeris. he silently repeats to himself. Its been something of a mantra for years.
He lets a smile come to his face Not my smile though and, quashing that thought, goes to his door and opens it. "Yes?"
"Sir?" The door creaked open. On the other side was Tam, the Warforged butler. "The skycoach you requested is waiting for you. I don't know why you have to travel in such a base vehicle. The Manor's coaches are always available for your use. Pardon me sir, but why is it that you prefer to travel so?
Forget I asked, Sir. Your mother wishes to inform you that you must not miss tonight's festivities! She's put a lot of effort into the affair this year, and is not going to take another illness for an excuse!
Oh, and I almost forgot. Here, Sir. "The warforged produces a small black box, tied with a single, perfect, red ribbon on the top. "Happy Birthday, Sir."
Tam steps out of the corridor and slips down the hall, not waiting for Sim to respond. If Warforged could blush, Tam would have been bright red. The door is open, letting in the magical light from the interior of the Manor, in contrast with the sun light pouring in from the other side.
Sim stands in the doorway, caught between both light sources, holding the package.
"Sir?" The door creaked open. On the other side was Tam, the Warforged butler. "The skycoach you requested is waiting for you. I don't know why you have to travel in such a base vehicle. The Manor's coaches are always available for your use. Pardon me sir, but why is it that you prefer to travel so?
Sillas smiles at the warforged and shrugs. "Can’t really explain it, Tam. Its just my way.”
Forget I asked, Sir. Your mother wishes to inform you that you must not miss tonight's festivities! She's put a lot of effort into the affair this year, and is not going to take another illness for an excuse!
“Only way I’ll miss tonight is if I should die today!” Sillas says with a chuckle “No, fortunately this year I feel quite hale.”
Oh, and I almost forgot. Here, Sir. "The warforged produces a small black box, tied with a single, perfect, red ribbon on the top. "Happy Birthday, Sir."
Tam steps out of the corridor and slips down the hall, not waiting for Sim to respond. If Warforged could blush, Tam would have been bright red. The door is open, letting in the magical light from the interior of the Manor, in contrast with the sun light pouring in from the other side.
Sillas smiles to himself and calls out after the retreating warforged “Thank you Tam.”
He undoes the red ribbon with long, nimble fingers, wondering what the butler found for him. ’He really is a fine fellow, no butler compares. I’ll have to speak to father about his pay, though I don’t know what he’d do with the coin.’
Knowing that Tam doesn't have a tremendous amount of money to throw around, Sim gently unfolds the layers of cloth protecting the item. Pulling it out, it appears to be a golden skull approximately the size of Sim's palm. The mouth is open, as if in a scream, and three rubies are set into it vertically, running from the forehead to bridge of the nose.
Sim recognizes it immediately; simultaneously a medal and a badge of office, this skull identifies a Kaarnathi military officer. Judging by the three beautiful rubies adorning it, whoever owned this previously was high ranking. The light danced off of it perfectly. Gently bouncing it in his hand, Sim deduced that it was probably solid gold.
Underneath the skull was a small note, written in a perfect blocky script.
"Sir,
Please accept this gift. It is very important to me that I give it to you. I have very little else to give, but this means more to me than anything else that I could have given. It is my last souvenir from the war, my last reminder of that horrible life I lived. I did many terrible things in that war because I was forced to. After the war, I did many more terrible things to get by. I would rather leave all that behind.
My path is here, now. The war seems as if it was a lifetime ago. There is no need to hang on to all that suffering.
Young Sillas. You, especially, have shown me so much compassion. You have treated me with more respect than I've ever known.
Thank you.
Happy Birthday.
-Tam"
Sim knew that Tam spoke very little of his past life, and often shied away at the mention of anything personal. It did not surprise him that Tam would take this calculated method of explication.
Sillas smiles and admires the light glinting off the exquisitely made skull.
A part of him wonders what Tam would say if he found out that the man he addressed as sir, the man who treated him with respect, was an imposter and a crook. He tries not to dwell on it and slips the skull into an inner pocket. Of course the warforged might be the only one to understand doing whatver it took to get by.
I did many more terrible things to get by
"Me too, friend, me too." Sillas says quietly to himself as he closes his door and walks to the waiting skycoach, silently wondering whether his place is here or down in the shadows.
Waiting for Sillas in the skycoach is a perky young lad that Sim recognizes simply as 'Shake'.
When Sim approaches, Shake is hanging off the edge of the skycoach, his legs dangling into oblivion. A sweet smelling herb burns in his cigarette, foppishly hanging out of the side of his mouth. His well-worn cap sits slightly askew on his head, and his toothy grin completes the symmetry, with a missing tooth on the other side of his face.
Waving and grinning at the young noble he has driven around more than a few times, he shouts: "Good morning, young sir!" and hops through the window of the coach, and waiting for Sillas to get in.
When he does, Shake takes off with a characteristic jolt, veering out wildly and causing Sim to hold on tightly. "Off to The Hideaway already?" Shake jeers back, his eyes darting between looking at Sillas and looking at his path "I guess you're late for last night's festivities, and early for today's! Either way, I'm sure you'll have fun. There was quite a commotion earlier! This huge unmarked skyship came out of nowhere and docked in the House's personal dock. There seemed to be quite a raucous, but I didn't spy for too long! Wouldn't want to keep my buddy Sillas waiting!" That familiar toothy smile flashes again, and Shake tosses one of his rolled cigarettes in the back seat for Sillas.
Releasing his grip on his seat, Sillas grins back at Shake "Still haven't learned to drive this thing properly have you?".
Lounging in the small seat he watches the city whiz past "Yep, the Hideaway. Better late then never though, or early I suppose."
Taking the cigar and striking a tindertwig match on the side of the coach, Sillas draws on it a moment before saying "Unmarked huh? Military model or something a little more special?"
"What are you talking about? I'm the best driver Serra's got! Though, you know she'd never admit it. And that's probably for the best. I like freewheeling it, and I'd hate to get stuck on a contract shuffling around stuffy nobl-- I mean, uptight people." Shake pauses for a moment, looking back to make sure he didn't hurt Sillas' feelings.
"You know how some kind can get. I didn't mean any disrespect, Sir. It's just that you don't always act like one of them. You know how to have fun! And you tip well!" Shake's head is turned around again, flashing that characteristic toothy grin.
"As for the 'coach. It's nothing special," Shake smacks the side of it, leaving his arm dangling out the side, "I just haven't had the time to paint 'Silverstreak' on the side of it, yet. Again. Let's just say one of my last rides shaved a little too close for comfort."
Turning around to assure Sillas, "Don't worry friend, I haven't had much to drink at all yet today! I can pilot this thing with my eyes closed. I can even--", a resounding crash cuts Shake short. A falling object smashing into the side of the skycoach sends the flying vessel spinning out of control.
Defensively, Sim puts his hands up to shield his face, burying his head in his lap as shards of debris wash across him.
Shake cuts the chatting and moves into pilot mode, expertly regaining control of his (newly dented) craft. "By the light!", Shake mutters, veering once again back to Sillas' destination. "Hooligans! Throwing shit out their windows! I'll never get used to it! This is gonna cost a pretty copper to repair." Shake leans his head out the window to analyze the damage, "Shit."
Shake appears unharmed, as the unidentified debris crashed into the passenger side of the vehicle. Sim, despite being sprayed in broken glass is fine. His clothes suffer a few holes here and there, but as his wardrobe is more or less inexhaustible, he thinks little of it. Picking the rubble and shards of glass out of his clothing, Sim finds a small ring that had become lodged in his neckscarf.
"You OK back there, chum?"
"What are you talking about? I'm the best driver Serra's got! Though, you know she'd never admit it. And that's probably for the best. I like freewheeling it, and I'd hate to get stuck on a contract shuffling around stuffy nobl-- I mean, uptight people." Shake pauses for a moment, looking back to make sure he didn't hurt Sillas' feelings.
"You know how some kind can get. I didn't mean any disrespect, Sir. It's just that you don't always act like one of them. You know how to have fun! And you tip well!" Shake's head is turned around again, flashing that characteristic toothy grin.
Laughing Sillas says "Touche. Some of us know how to have a little fun. Just keep us from crashing and dying and I'll keep tipping you well."
"As for the 'coach. It's nothing special," Shake smacks the side of it, leaving his arm dangling out the side, "I just haven't had the time to paint 'Silverstreak' on the side of it, yet. Again. Let's just say one of my last rides shaved a little too close for comfort."
Sillas laughs again. "I was asking about the unmarked airship. The one you saw this morning, docking at the Lyrander tower."
Turning around to assure Sillas, "Don't worry friend, I haven't had much to drink at all yet today! I can pilot this thing with my eyes closed. I can even--", a resounding crash cuts Shake short. A falling object smashing into the side of the skycoach sends the flying vessel spinning out of control.
Defensively, Sim puts his hands up to shield his face, burying his head in his lap as shards of debris wash across him.
Shake appears unharmed, as the unidentified debris crashed into the passenger side of the vehicle. Sim, despite being sprayed in broken glass is fine. His clothes suffer a few holes here and there, but as his wardrobe is more or less inexhaustible, he thinks little of it. Picking the rubble and shards of glass out of his clothing, Sim finds a small ring that had become...
"Not dead back here." Sillas replies absently, examining the small ring he found 'What have we here? Now I know this isn't mine.'
The golden ring is a simple band with a tiny gem embedded into the interior loop of the ring, so as to make contact with the skin when worn. It's quite unremarkable, but the light streaming through the new hole in the skycoach catches it in such a way that sets the gold gleaming. The tiny gem shard also catches the light, shedding the tiniest purple hue on the inside of the band.
Sim's evaluation of the ring is cut short by Shake's familiar squeaking: "Well I'm glad you're all right! I don't think I would be able to live with myself if anything happened to you." Shake pauses to think for a moment. "Well, maybe I could, but I would be upset! I would probably even stay up all night thinking about it! You're a good guy!"
Shake veers the craft around to make a landing on the middle level of Lyrandar tower, about 100ft from The Hideaway. "Anyway, the ship from before, I don't think it was military, but it was certainly armed. It looked too flashy to be a merchant ship, and it certainly wasn't for transport. There were no colours, and the pilot certainly knew what he was doing. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was a pirate ship! What could it being doing in Lyrandar's private dock? I'm sure we'll hear about it all soon enough. You know how news spreads in this town; straight down. The whole tower will be buzzing about it for sure."
Clanging against the side of the landing, the skycoach makes a rough connection with the dock; twisted metal scraping against polished stone was the smooth landing Shake always promised.
"This is your stop bud. Sorry about the rough ride, but what a way to set the blood pumping! You sure you're alright?" Shake's goofy grin flashes a last time before he lets Sillas out onto the walkway.
The golden ring is a simple band with a tiny gem embedded into the interior loop of the ring, so as to make contact with the skin when worn. It's quite unremarkable, but the light streaming through the new hole in the skycoach catches it in such a way that sets the gold gleaming. The tiny gem shard also catches the light, shedding the tiniest purple hue on the inside of the band.
Sillas pockets the ring. He'll look into it further, but now isn't the time.
Sim's evaluation of the ring is cut short by Shake's familiar squeaking: "Well I'm glad you're all right! I don't think I would be able to live with myself if anything happened to you." Shake pauses to think for a moment. "Well, maybe I could, but I would be upset! I would probably even stay up all night thinking about it! You're a good guy!"
"Oh, you'd be fine." Sillas says "Soon another nice young stuffy who tipped well would come along and you'd forget all about me."
Shake veers the craft around to make a landing on the middle level of Lyrandar tower, about 100ft from The Hideaway. "Anyway, the ship from before, I don't think it was military, but it was certainly armed. It looked too flashy to be a merchant ship, and it certainly wasn't for transport. There were no colours, and the pilot certainly knew what he was doing. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was a pirate ship! What could it being doing in Lyrandar's private dock? I'm sure we'll hear about it all soon enough. You know how news spreads in this town; straight down. The whole tower will be buzzing about it for sure."
"You know me, a little too curious for my own good. Let me know what you hear about the Lyrander airship alright?"
Clanging against the side of the landing, the skycoach makes a rough connection with the dock; twisted metal scraping against polished stone was the smooth landing Shake always promised.
"This is your stop bud. Sorry about the rough ride, but what a way to set the blood pumping! You sure you're alright?" Shake's goofy grin flashes a last time before he lets Sillas out onto the walkway.
"I'm fine, thanks." Sillas says, stepping from the air taxi "Keeps you on your feet, stuff like this. Besides, it gives me something to write home about.". Flipping Shake a gold coin, Sillas strides away towards his destination, dusting off his coat one last time.
Shake veers off wildly into the distance, seemingly unaffected by the little collision, leaving Sim on his path..
Bright, magically lit letters spell out the destination, The Hideaway. Inside the pristine white doors, the building opens up into a dimly lit inviting space. The entire floor is covered in a thick grey rug, dotted by islands of tables with high-backed upholstered chairs.
It's still early in the day, so only a couple groups are lounging in the otherwise bustling waterhole.
A group of hobgoblins, clad in white cloth from head to toe mark them as obviously not from Sharn, are arguing over their drinks. Sim's familiarity with the Goblin tongue identifies the issue as how they are supposed to drink without removing their headscarves. "The Oath! The Oath!", one intones.
Another group takes up the seats at the far right of the room. These four individuals seem to be studying a map of some sort, working out some kind of plan.
A quick scan of the room reveals none of Sillas' friends to be here yet, but a familiar hostess ambles up to him after a short while. Tall for a human, her slim fitting uniform emphasizes her toned body; especially the size of her biceps. The Hideaway rarely cut corners in its services, but meshing bouncer and server roles together worked for this place. "Good day, Sir. Will it be the usual table? Can I start you off with something", she winks.
A group of hobgoblins, clad in white cloth from head to toe mark them as obviously not from Sharn, are arguing over their drinks. Sim's familiarity with the Goblin tongue identifies the issue as how they are supposed to drink without removing their headscarves. "The Oath! The Oath!", one intones.
Sillas chuckles softly as he walks past the arguing hobgoblins 'Shows what being pious gets you.'
A quick scan of the room reveals none of Sillas' friends to be here yet, but a familiar hostess ambles up to him after a short while. Tall for a human, her slim fitting uniform emphasizes her toned body; especially the size of her biceps. The Hideaway rarely cut corners in its services, but meshing bouncer and server roles together worked for this place. "Good day, Sir. Will it be the usual table? Can I start you off with something", she winks.
"Yes, the usual table. My companions should be here shortly. I'd take some wine, the best you have. Preferrably something Brelish." he says with a bright smile.
She chuckles a little, retorting "Well, the terms 'the best we have', and 'Brelish', render the wine an impossibility." Another wink, "But I know what you like, I'll get you something great".
A few minutes later and she returned with a bottle of clear liquid, and a small plate of fresh berries. "This wine is good for so early in the day. It's refreshing, with a fantastic berry nose."
Setting the bottle, the glass, and the plate on the table, she rubs a ring on her left hand and mutters "Fraido". Instantly little droplets of water began to form on the side of the bottle, revealing a sudden condensation. "And, it's best served chilled."
A simple parlour trick for sure, but nonetheless, her trick had brought the ring that Sillas found earlier to the forefront of his mind. It was almost as if he could feel it inside his pocket.
She chuckles a little, retorting "Well, the terms 'the best we have', and 'Brelish', render the wine an impossibility." Another wink, "But I know what you like, I'll get you something great".
"Thank you."
A few minutes later and she returned with a bottle of clear liquid, and a small plate of fresh berries. "This wine is good for so early in the day. It's refreshing, with a fantastic berry nose."
Setting the bottle, the glass, and the plate on the table, she rubs a ring on her left hand and mutters "Fraido". Instantly little droplets of water began to form on the side of the bottle, revealing a sudden condensation. "And, it's best served chilled."
A simple parlour trick for sure, but nonetheless, her trick had brought the ring that Sillas found earlier to the forefront of his mind. It was almost as if he could feel it inside his pocket.
Sillas tries to surreptiously get a look at the ring on the hostess' hand. It's a slim chance but why not? He thanks her and as she leaves, pulls the ring out of his pocket, examining it. He looks for any marks that might hint at its origin or purpose. 'What are you? Its not often that a ring falls in a shower of rubble. What's your story?'
While the hostess' ring is fairly unremarkable, this wouldn't be the first time that Sillas had seen such a ring. Rings of prestidigitation were fairly easy to come by and, in the service industry, more than paid for themselves by performing basic tasks such as heating, cooling, and cleaning. Customers, especially non-locals, always enjoyed the flashy nature of some of the servers.
However, the ring that Sillas held in his hand right now was certainly more remarkable than such a tool. But this ring bore no mark or identification as to it's purpose or activation, if it was indeed a magic ring. The small purple shard on the inside of the ring was the only thing that marred an otherwise perfect loop. No sign of where the ring was joined was present. It was certainly a fantastic creation, and if Sillas could ever worry about money, he could definitely make a pretty copper off of it.
Sim pockets the ring for now and wiats ofr his companions to arrive. Maybe one of them can help him, and if they can't, than he can surely find someone who can. With enough money...
Sillas’ friend Merreck was the first to arrive, always eager for any excuse that would provide him a moment away from the university. He must have left in a bit of a hurry, as he was still wearing his reading glasses, albeit at the end of his nose. His elegant yet simple attire showed that he had a fair bit of coin, but didn’t really like to flash it around.
He looks around the room, laughs a little at the goblins fighting over their drinks, and waves to Sillas. “Good morning, friend. Or, as these hobgoblins traditionally say,: May the morning wind keep the sand from your eyes . Really. They say that.” Taking a seat, he reaches for an empty glass and begins to pour a little wine for himself. “Happy birthday, and all. What have you been up to?”
"Oh quite well, with the exception of nearly being killed by flling rubble on the way here. Some moron driving a skycoach too close to a tower, I expect. Funny thing happened too; in the rubble that fell on my skycoach I found this." Sim says, producing the ring with a dramatic flourish. "It just fell out of the sky, right into my lap. Know what it is?"
"You're lucky to have your life, then. Forget what else you'll get today. Those skycoaches are death traps! I've said it before, and I'll say it again!"
Merreck catches the ring easily. He looks it over for a moment before tossing it back to Sillas.
"Well, it's pretty, that's for sure. But it looks like in the crash, it twisted inside out! Either that, or the craftsman that made it was dyslexic; the gem's on the inside. Does it do anything?"
"Aside from puzzle me? Nothing that I can tell." taking a sip from his wine he asks "And what of you? Up to anything interesting at the University?"
"Ah, nothing really. Translating the untranslatable. You know. Just because I have a knack for picking up languages, and have travelled a fair bit, it does not mean that I can spontaneously decrypt dead languages! The one I'm trudging through now is appearing to be some other ancient snake cult. Really. How many do we need?"
Merreck chuckles to himself, and takes another sip of the wine.
"The others should be here soon. Was there anything special you wanted to do on your big day, today?"
"Ah, nothing really. Translating the untranslatable. You know. Just because I have a knack for picking up languages, and have travelled a fair bit, it does not mean that I can spontaneously decrypt dead languages! The one I'm trudging through now is appearing to be some other ancient snake cult. Really. How many do we need?"
Merreck chuckles to himself, and takes another sip of the wine.
"Sounds fun. See this is why I'm not a scholar; an afternoon of that and I'd go mad."
"The others should be here soon. Was there anything special you wanted to do on your big day, today?"
Sillas shrugs "Really I just wanted to get out of the house. Family can be so...opressive on days like this. Mother's organized a party this evening so there'll be quite enough fuss made then."
"Trust, friend, that there are even days when I think Xoriat is spinning a little too close for comfort. I feel so claustrophobic at times. But, it's like I can feel it in my heels, you know? The anxiousness. It's in my heels, and it pulls me to get out and about. You really should accompany me one day! We could go anywhere, really! Except Zilargo. Everything makes me claustrophobic there...", Merreck trails off as he sees Jorras, Thervi, and Tara enter The Hideaway.
The trio nod to the hobgoblin monks, and move over to Sillas and Merreck, casually filling in around the table. The level of comfort that the group has with each other is evident in the warm greetings they share.
"Ah, speaking of Zilargo, here's our favourite emigrant!," Merreck blurts, "and his two, always beautiful, travelling companions!". Merreck playfully blows a kiss to the others, who pretend to swat it away with practised gestures.
"Keep your seat, or I'll have to convince those robed gentlemen over there that they should defend my honour", Thervi teases. "I'm working on a charm right now. It wouldn't take much, really, and I doubt those goblin minds would offer much resistance", she says in hushed tones. "But, in truth, having a few more weak-willed friends following me around is the last thing I need, as long as I have you guys."
"Oh stuff it", Tara says, turning to Merreck and Sillas, "Either way, good day to both of you. More importantly, happy birthday, dear friend."
After a moment the server comes over again, with another bottle of wine, that she chills again using her ring. Tara gives a little smirk at the trick, and Thervi rolls her eyes.
"Trust, friend, that there are even days when I think Xoriat is spinning a little too close for comfort. I feel so claustrophobic at times. But, it's like I can feel it in my heels, you know? The anxiousness. It's in my heels, and it pulls me to get out and about. You really should accompany me one day! We could go anywhere, really! Except Zilargo. Everything makes me claustrophobic there...", Merreck trails off as he sees Jorras, Thervi, and Tara enter The Hideaway.
Sillas shrugs "Maybe someday. Where are you looking to now, wanderer? Xen'drik again?"
The trio nod to the hobgoblin monks, and move over to Sillas and Merreck, casually filling in around the table. The level of comfort that the group has with each other is evident in the warm greetings they share.
"Ah, speaking of Zilargo, here's our favourite emigrant!," Merreck blurts, "and his two, always beautiful, travelling companions!". Merreck playfully blows a kiss to the others, who pretend to swat it away with practised gestures.
"Keep your seat, or I'll have to convince those robed gentlemen over there that they should defend my honour", Thervi teases. "I'm working on a charm right now. It wouldn't take much, really, and I doubt those goblin minds would offer much resistance", she says in hushed tones. "But, in truth, having a few more weak-willed friends following me around is the last thing I need, as long as I have you guys."
"Oh, I doubt you'd need to rely upon a spell." Sillas says with a grin. "And I take offense to my willpower being unfavorably compared with a goblin."
"Oh stuff it", Tara says, turning to Merreck and Sillas, "Either way, good day to both of you. More importantly, happy birthday, dear friend."
After a moment the server comes over again, with another bottle of wine, that she chills again using her ring. Tara gives a little smirk at the trick, and Thervi rolls her eyes.
"Thank you." Sillas says, raising his glass "Today I am another year closer to going to the grave. Cheers."
Leaning back in his chair he adds "Mother's throwing a party tonight. You're all invited of course, even you Thervi. If you apologize for implying that I'm weak-willed that is."
"Xen'drik? Probably not for a while. Too many scorpions.", Merreck reaches for his drink.
"And, of course we're invited! We got the invitations from your mum three months ago!", Merreck laughs. "And I would not be the one to cross your mother, if I could help it. We'll be there." The others nod in aggreance, and raise their glasses to toast. Something that they will probably be doing quite a lot of today.
--
Thervi responds to Sillas with a wink, "Not even in a martially honed, stoic-as-a-spiritual-warrior kind of way?"
"Just what are those sheets going on about anyway?" Tara interrupts.
Merreck clears his throat; "Well, it would appear that these out of town fellows are looking to have a good time, fast. Problem is, they can't imbibe without either (a.) spilling it all over their dress, or (b.) removing their head coverings. Both would be dishonourable. We've been watching them for some time."
"Cruel!", proclaims Tara. "A reed could work. Or a tube of some kind..." She trails off as she starts looking in her side-pack. Muttering and rummaging through her bag she eventually pulls out three thin metal tubes, long enough to work as a makeshift-straw. She holds them up to the light, squinting one eye closed to look down the length of the tube. "They look clean enough to me."
Tara leaves her friends momentarily, taking the three tubes to the table where the hobgoblins are seated. They greet her warmly and bow low to accept her offerings. They speak too quietly now to be heard from the table, but by Tara's gestures, the group surmises that she is explaining how they could use the tubes. Blushing only a little, she returns to her table as the monks merrily indulge themselves.
"I guess I should take back those horrible things I said to you about carrying all that junk around with you." offers Thervi with a smile. "I probably won't, but I guess I should."
"And here I thought this was Sillas' birthday? Here you go, giving away valuable items to strangers!", chuckles Merreck.
"Of course! But I thought we could give our gifts at the party, later tonight. Not in a bar, at noon.", Tara retorts. "What would you prefer, Sillas?"
"Xen'drik? Probably not for a while. Too many scorpions.", Merreck reaches for his drink.
"And, of course we're invited! We got the invitations from your mum three months ago!", Merreck laughs. "And I would not be the one to cross your mother, if I could help it. We'll be there." The others nod in aggreance, and raise their glasses to toast. Something that they will probably be doing quite a lot of today.
--
Thervi responds to Sillas with a wink, "Not even in a martially honed, stoic-as-a-spiritual-warrior kind of way?""Just what are those sheets going on about anyway?" Tara interrupts.
Merreck clears his throat; "Well, it would appear that these out of town fellows are looking to have a good time, fast. Problem is, they can't imbibe without either (a.) spilling it all over their dress, or (b.) removing their head coverings. Both would be dishonourable. We've been watching them for some time."
“Makes you wonder how they eat doesn’t it?” Sillas says, staring absently at the robed figures.
"Cruel!", proclaims Tara. "A reed could work. Or a tube of some kind..." She trails off as she starts looking in her side-pack. Muttering and rummaging through her bag she eventually pulls out three thin metal tubes, long enough to work as a makeshift-straw. She holds them up to the light, squinting one eye closed to look down the length of the tube. "They look clean enough to me."
Tara leaves her friends momentarily, taking the three tubes to the table where the hobgoblins are seated. They greet her warmly and bow low to accept her offerings. They speak too quietly now to be heard from the table, but by Tara's gestures, the group surmises that she is explaining how they could use the tubes. Blushing only a little, she returns to her table as the monks merrily indulge themselves.
“That’s our Tara; bringing sin and vice to men of the cloth. I give them an hour before they get thrown out. Monks never can seem to hold their liquor. Must come with the robes.” Sillas says, grinning at Tara as she takes her seat again.
"I guess I should take back those horrible things I said to you about carrying all that junk around with you." offers Thervi with a smile. "I probably won't, but I guess I should."
“You know, I’ve always wondered about that; how do you manage to always have just the right piece of junk?”
"And here I thought this was Sillas' birthday? Here you go, giving away valuable items to strangers!", chuckles Merreck.
"Of course! But I thought we could give our gifts at the party, later tonight. Not in a bar, at noon.", Tara retorts. "What would you prefer, Sillas?"
Sillas shrugs. “Might as well get that out of the way sooner rather than later. If one of these blows up in my face I swear by all that is holy..."
Leaning back in his chair he says “And speaking of gifts, I’ve got a bit of a mystery for you. I was in a skycoach on my way here when I heard something hit the coach. I thought Shake had finally made a mistake but it turns out we’d been showered in rubble from one of the towers. I was brushing myself off when I found it, sitting there like a gift from the Traveler.” He pulls out the ring and casually flips it onto the table. “This fell with the rubble. Ever seen a ring like that? The thing’s got me curious and since the font of knowledge here.” Nodding at Merreck “Doesn’t know what it is, I thought one of you bright fellows might know.”
“You know, I’ve always wondered about that; how do you manage to always have just the right piece of junk?”
Tara blushes a little, before opening up her bag. She pulls out an impossibly long pole from it, probably at least 10 feet long, and then returns it to her little side bag. "You'd be surprised what I can fit in here. Besides, one never knows when you'll need random parts!" She continues rummaging through her pack, obviously looking for Sim's gift.
She stops, as do the others, when Sim flops the ring onto the table. It spins a little longer than it probably should, before clattering to the table in front of Sim.
This is enough to peak Thervi's interest, as she snatches up the ring. "I don't know what it is, but I'll know soon enough." Her eyes glow bright for a moment as she initiates the beginnings of her detect spell. She focuses for a few moments before looking a little confused. With a shake of her head, she ends the spell, and tosses the ring back to Sillas.
"There's a few things going on there. All I know for sure is that the ring itself is probably fake. It's an illusion, probably being generated by that shard on the inside of it. As for the rest of it? There's some protection magic for sure. The rest of it? I don't know. It's yours. Happy Birthday! Why aren't you wearing it?"
Tara looks a little deflated. "Well, thanks mystery person from the sky. Way to make the gift I planned look paltry! Maybe I will defer to the party later tonight. That will give me time to put the finishing touches on it." She looks around at the others.
Merreck shrugs, "You think I brought mine here? I can't carry that big thing around with me anyway!"
Thervi deflects likewise, "Well, mine's not a thing per se. You have enough things, I'm sure. I have something a little different planned. I'm collaborating with Maeder on it. That's actually why he's not here right now, he wants to make sure it's perfect." She adds, "Don't worry, I cleared it with your mother long ago. We'll go on just before dinner."
Tara is practically sulking in her chair at this point, feeling quite outdone by the others.
Jorras is silent for the most part. Though he joins in with every crash and salutation of "Happy Birthday",he appears to be focused on writing something on a pad of paper just below the table.
Tara blushes a little, before opening up her bag. She pulls out an impossibly long pole from it, probably at least 10 feet long, and then returns it to her little side bag. "You'd be surprised what I can fit in here. Besides, one never knows when you'll need random parts!"
Sillas chuckles and shakes his head "You never cease to amaze."
The rest of it? I don't know. It's yours. Happy Birthday! Why aren't you wearing it?"
"Because I didn't know what it is, that's why."
Tara looks a little deflated. "Well, thanks mystery person from the sky. Way to make the gift I planned look paltry! Maybe I will defer to the party later tonight. That will give me time to put the finishing touches on it." She looks around at the others.
"Tara, I would rather have whatever you've come up with than a mystery ring that fell from the sky."
Sillas picks up the ring and looks around at his friends "Here's to hoping I don't explode or have my soul sucked out." he says, slipping the ring on. Dark Six, let this not be a mistake.
At Sillas' request, Tara begins searching for her gift in her pack. She produces a wrapped little box, and slides it across the table, before taking up a horrified expression. "Your...your face!" she stammers.
As Sim puts on the ring, he feels an electric tingle slide throughout his body. The buzz coalesces at a point on his face.
The rest of his companions look up, startled.
"My face what?!" Sillas asks, startled by his friends reactions. [i]Am I revealed?['i] he wonders fearfully.
He feels his face "What? I feel all tingly..."
"More magic? Anyone know? Sorry, Cassio, I'm not ignoring you, this is just a little odd."
"A small thing. Not my own, I must admit, but the sentiment is impeccable. Ready?
O never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seem’d my flame to qualify:
As easy might I from myself depart
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie;
That is my home of love; if I have ranged,
Like him that travels, I return again,
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe, though in my nature reign’d
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stain’d
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good:
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose: in it thou art my all."
Tara points to her gift box "Mirror. There's a mirror in there. Open it, see for yourself."
"You've been marked!" Merreck, exclaims.
"But that's not a dragonmark. I've never seen one like that!" Thervi corrects.
"Does it hurt?" asks Jorras, joining in at last.
Sillas looks around in confusion. "I can hear someone talking in my mind. Some fellow named Cassio is reciting poetry." he says, reaching for Tara's gift and unwrapping it, eager and worried to discover what manner of mark he's recieved. 'It just had to be the face. Not somewhere convienent like say my arm or my back. No it had to be on my face.'
"Does it hurt?" asks Jorras, joining in at last.
"No, it just kind of tingles. Hold on, there are more people talking." under his breath he adds "I haven't had that much to drink yet."
Unwrapping Tara's gift reveals a compass, or clock of sorts. There is no time to evaluate the purpose or use of the item, as Sillas frantically flips the item over, using its perfectly polished side as a reflective screen.
The mark seems to have taken hold on the right hand side of his face, encompassing the entire area from his chin to his eye, in a big black swirl pattern.
"People? In your head?" Merreck exclaims. " Are you sure you're not just overhearing people from another table? Maybe your ear popped and you can hear better? Please do elucidate the matter. What are they saying to you? I understand this is a day filled with incident, but please do take it easy."
Unwrapping Tara's gift reveals a compass, or clock of sorts. There is no time to evaluate the purpose or use of the item, as Sillas frantically flips the item over, using its perfectly polished side as a reflective screen.
The mark seems to have taken hold on the right hand side of his face, encompassing the entire area from his chin to his eye, in a big black swirl pattern.
"People? In your head?" Merreck exclaims. " Are you sure you're not just overhearing people from another table? Maybe your ear popped and you can hear better? Please do elucidate the matter. What are they saying to you? I understand this is a day filled with incident, but please do take it easy."
"Yes, nine of them or so. I'm sure they're not at another table; they all seem aware that they're having a psychic conversation. All of them say that the found a ring just like mine and that when they put it on, it marked them. Hold on, one of the Lyrander heirs told me how to activate the mark. This is bizzarre.".
Sillas turns away from his friends and tentatively puts a finger to to his new mark 'Let's see what you do.'. He wills whatever power te mark possess to manifest.
A touch is all that is needed to activate Sim's mark. He feels a small electric spark on his cheek arc out and slam into the table in front of him, sending drinks flying; the table nearly topples.
A shimmering wall of pure force hovers just in front of Sillas. Though it is invisible for the most part, Sim is able to discern that is is probably as big as him.
His friends jump back from the table, obviously startled.
Merreck tries to salvage what he can of the wine, while Thervi interjects: "Shield. I recognize that spell for sure. Coming from a mark though, wouldn't that be House Deneith's territory?"
Jorras and Tara are speechless, both of their eyes trained on their newly-magical friend.
A touch is all that is needed to activate Sim's mark. He feels a small electric spark on his cheek arc out and slam into the table in front of him, sending drinks flying; the table nearly topples.
A shimmering wall of pure force hovers just in front of Sillas. Though it is invisible for the most part, Sim is able to discern that is is probably as big as him.
His friends jump back from the table, obviously startled.
Sillas reaches out a hand and gingerly taps the magical barrier conjured by his mark. "Oh." he finally says.
Merreck tries to salvage what he can of the wine, while Thervi interjects: "Shield. I recognize that spell for sure. Coming from a mark though, wouldn't that be House Deneith's territory?"
Jorras and Tara are speechless, both of their eyes trained on their newly-magical friend.
"Well, it would seem it's mine now wouldn't it?" Sillas asks queitly, trying to will the barrier away.
"I suppose being able to create my own magical shield will be handy. Is it stationary or does will it move with me? How long will it last? I'll have to find some way to hide this mark until I figure out how to explain it. I suppose this is an Aberrant mark."
Willing the spell away, it quickly dissipates, leaving Sim with only a cool tingle on his cheek.
"If it's the same as other Shield spells I'm familiar with, it should follow you for a few moments. It will dart around and protect you from attacks, and it even nullifies some magical ones. It's like a shield made out of pure force; likewise, it protects against force missiles." Thervi gives her little speech proudly, showing off what she has learned at the Academy.
"And about this Aberrant nonsense," Merreck interjects, "you would be wise to forget that. You don't really know anything about it. Don't go claiming a touch of Khyber without finding more out about this ring. You just go home, clean yourself up, and get a little face powder to cover up that...thing. Don't be stressing your parents out today. And don't miss your party either! Keep on as if everything is normal. Tomorrow you'll have time to investigate more on this. Jorras'll help you, for sure. Isn't that right?"
Jorras has turned back to his writing, furiously scribbling in his notepad under the table. "Uh? What? Oh yes. Tomorrow. I'll help you track it all down tomorrow."
"Good." Merreck continues. "And don't listen to those voices! Who knows who or what they are. They could be trying to trick you!"
Willing the spell away, it quickly dissipates, leaving Sim with only a cool tingle on his cheek.
"If it's the same as other Shield spells I'm familiar with, it should follow you for a few moments. It will dart around and protect you from attacks, and it even nullifies some magical ones. It's like a shield made out of pure force; likewise, it protects against force missiles." Thervi gives her little speech proudly, showing off what she has learned at the Academy.
"Huh. Could be useful; hopefully it won't be too much of a trouble magnet."
"And about this Aberrant nonsense," Merreck interjects, "you would be wise to forget that. You don't really know anything about it. Don't go claiming a touch of Khyber without finding more out about this ring. You just go home, clean yourself up, and get a little face powder to cover up that...thing. Don't be stressing your parents out today. And don't miss your party either! Keep on as if everything is normal. Tomorrow you'll have time to investigate more on this. Jorras'll help you, for sure. Isn't that right?"
"I meant aberrant as in not a mark associated with one of the Houses. It isn't like any dragonmark I've seen, and I'm not a member of one of the Twelve; therefore it is an aberrant mark. Unuasual. And no, I won't tell mother or father about this, not until it becomes a problem or I know more. That would just be asking for trouble."
Jorras has turned back to his writing, furiously scribbling in his notepad under the table. "Uh? What? Oh yes. Tomorrow. I'll help you track it all down tomorrow."
"What are you doing anyway? You've been scribbling away at that pad the whole afternoon. On the trail of some new scandal?"
"Good." Merreck continues. "And don't listen to those voices! Who knows who or what they are. They could be trying to trick you!"
"They might be trying to tricke me. I never thought of that." Sillas says sarcastically. "I don't trust them, but I'm not going to ignore them. They're my only lead on what's going on."
Jorras responds with a bit of a nervous laugh; "No, not quite. You know me, I'm such a procrastinator. I'm just finishing the last part of your gift."
He seems to be frantically scribbling something down. He folds the paper, and stuffs it into an envelope he must have already prepared. He slides it across the table to Sillas, and nods. "Either way, you're having quite a day yourself. I'll have to sit down with you and get it all onto paper. Maybe we can put our heads together tomorrow. I am sorry to say, I must run now. I'll meet up with you tomorrow!"
Jorras pushes his chair in, tossing a few coins onto the dishevelled table. "Be safe, my friends." He calls out as he heads out the room.
"That guy never stops working." Merreck shakes his head.
Jorras responds with a bit of a nervous laugh; "No, not quite. You know me, I'm such a procrastinator. I'm just finishing the last part of your gift."
He seems to be frantically scribbling something down. He folds the paper, and stuffs it into an envelope he must have already prepared. He slides it across the table to Sillas, and nods. "Either way, you're having quite a day yourself. I'll have to sit down with you and get it all onto paper. Maybe we can put our heads together tomorrow. I am sorry to say, I must run now. I'll meet up with you tomorrow!"
Jorras pushes his chair in, tossing a few coins onto the dishevelled table. "Be safe, my friends." He calls out as he heads out the room.
"That guy never stops working." Merreck shakes his head.
Sillas picks up the envelope Jorras gave him and shakes his head "I wonder what the little fellow is up to this time? I wonder what he's stumbled into? I hope it's nothing that'll get him into too much trouble."
He closes his eyes for a moment. "I wish I could get them to shut up for a moment. Its damn hard to track to different conversations when one is happening in your mind." he says, willing the voices in his mind to quite down."And now back to where we were before we were so rudely interrupted." he says, picking up Tara's gift examining it closely. "It's very nice but, what is it? If I know you its not just a pretty clock."
Tara's gift is a beautifully constructed pocketwatch. It also doubles as a compass, it's little silver arrows pointing at both time and location; they bounce back and forth according to Sim's twists. The whole thing seems to be made out of silver; Sim finds it quite smooth to the touch, and enjoyable to hold.
"It'll last forever," Tara says sheepishly. "The arrows will follow North, just like a compass. Every movement of that compass needle, every swing of the arrows, will wind the watch part up. It should never stop, and will keep perfect time. As long as you keep moving."
"It's wonderful Tara." Sillas says with a smile, admiring the watch. "Your ingenuity and skill never ceases to amaze me. Thanks to you, I'll have an excuse for being lost or late again."
A moment later he says "Huh, everyone else was in or near Lyrander Tower when they got their rings. Do any of you know about curio shop in the Tower?"
Tara blushes a little, and begins to withdraw from the conversation. "Well, Happy Birthday, friend. I hope it keeps you well. I have to leave now, but I'll see you tonight!" Tara waves at the others, "Take care."
Bowing, Merreck begins his breakdown. "The curio shop? Do you mean Isan's little place? If that's what you mean, then more than know the place, I helped fill it some of it's curiosities. Between there, and 'Little Xen'drik' up at Morgrave, there's little reason to visit the real Xen'drik. Unless of course you're on a contract from Isan. Do the others think that the rings came from his shop? For sure, he has many varied and wondrous items, but if I know him at all, I know that he holds onto them as tightly as he can. Unless he's taking them apart of course. To see what's inside, of course. You know the type."
"See you tonight." Sillas says to Tara as she leaves the table.
To Merreck "Yes, that's what they said. I think...wait, they're coming here." he grins at Merreck "They should be here soon; let's observe my new friends for a bit shall we? Knowledge is power after all."