City of Tyrsis. Jewel of Callahorn. It's sights and smells entice and enthrall your senses. It's massive walls stand resolute against all foreign enemies, from the armies of the Warlock during the third war of the races, to the pestilence that plagued the land that helped end the Free Legion.
Down its paved streets teaming with people, you wandered about, yet with purpose. You look back frequently, looking for those that would shadow you. For you have a lot to be leary of, for you are a member of the resistance. The rebellion against the Federation and it's control over the free lands, and the Free People.
Your reasons are your own for joining the rebellion, but you recognize that the free lands need to join. Dwarves, elves, humans, gnomes, all join to throw off the shackles of Federation control.
Turning down a bright and open street, you approach the inn that you were directed towards. The inn of the prancing pony.
Stepping inside, you blink to allow your eyes to adjust to the darkness. Looking about, you see a packed room, where everyone's eyes look upon you. Ignoring them, you spot a table in the far back and take a seat. You remember your instructions again.
Sit. and wait.
A matter of faith, you think to yourself. Perhaps to examine you. Judge your commitment to the cause? perhaps. Or just to make you pay for an ale.
Mirana Falataur takes a seat at the table. Her pale silvery hair hanging off her shoulders and looking around with her sky blue eyes. Her gear is under a cloak she is wearing and hidden from plain sight from those who are around. To the others at the table she looks them over sizing them up and getting the feel of their patterns. If these were some people with a similar cause then it was best to see what skills they would provide to the group. She says nothing at first being rather stoic in her outward appearance, not wishing to draw too much attention.
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A few minutes later into the crowed tavern flows an elf. He moves like the willow or the grass in the wind. So graceful is he that a dancer may be brought to tears. He armored in brown studded leather in a loose fitting a silken tunic and breeches dyed the same shade as his armor all bound together with a series of sashes made of a stout hempen cord undyed. On his back a closed quiver and bow as well as a morning star strapped to a backpack, on his right hip a serviceable rapier.
As he approaches the table one of the barmaids stumbles and almost spills her tray of drinks Magelin reaches out a hand to steady her. Pointing at the only table that has but on person sitting at it. He asks her to bring a round and slips his coins into her hands, hoping the small pile of Federation Silver is worth something to her as it is not to him. She smiles and promises to bring the wine and glasses soon.
The elf continues towards the table where what appears to be an elf, this one a female sitting alone, having to almost dance his way to her to avoid his sandal clad feet being tromped on by the other patrons. He finally arrives at the table.
Elvish "As the willow bends in the wind so too shall we, never broken. I am Magelin of the Telimnar line, a lesser branch so, I have be assigned as a ranger of the wilds. Perhaps you are one of the ones I am to meet here. " Magelin bows gesturing with a hand hidden from the rest of the tavern in one of the elvish handsigns for scholar and pointing at his heart. "The serving woman, I didn't catch her name, said that they had one bottle left of our feywine, she is brining it and a few glasses. We may as well enjoy the time while we wait for the others."
A young human works his way into the Prancing Pony, a great ax, longbow, and multiple quivers clearly visible, with the leather showing clear signs of both wear and care. Glancing about the room, he spies the table with empty seats in the back, shrugs, and works his way towards the table. As he approaches the two at the table, he slows. Nodding at the apparent pair of elves, he speaks in elvish. "My apologies for bothering you, but this seems the only place in the room for me to sit. I hope that my company does not bother you." He sits as he makes that last comment.
A Dwarf with fiery red hair and beard walks into the Prancing pony and with a quick glance around he sighs to himself and heads to the table. Pardon me but it seems there is no other seats available. He sits down with out concern if they mind. By the way the name is Bain, who might you all be?
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Nodding towards Dolin and gesturing at the wine and glasses.Elvish: "Have a glass of Feywine if you are willing to risk it. Otherwise the barmaid will be around soon enough. My name as Maeglin unless the other elf has an issue."Magelin looks over at Mirana watching to see if she objects to him speaking for them both. You are welcome to sit at our table, if you come in peace."
Magelin takes a sip of the blue colored wine as Bain thumps down at the table. After he swallows the wine, and well after Bain is seated. Dwarven:"You are more than welcome to sit at our table, if you come in peace. I am Magelin of the Telimnar. There's Feywine if your wish or the barmaid will be along soon if you prefer ale.
[i] looking at the others gathered, Magelin beings to wonder about the strange scroll he has in a pouch "Tyrsis, Prancing Pony, Three nights from now, Sit, Wait and a strange glyph.
Dolin accepts a glass of the offered Fey wine, and nods as Bain arrives. Hearing Magelin's first introduction, Dolin starts to blush, slightly. Hearing the names Megelin and Telimnar repeated in the words to the dwarf just increases the bloodflow. "I am Dolin, from the Duhn," he adds in the common tongue, Before pointing at the dwarf. "I am afraid that I do not speak your language, Bain."
Being addressed by Magelin, she turns a glance to Magelin Telimnar. She says to him in Elven, "It is good to meet you Magelin. I am Mirana Falataur of Westland, seer of patterns and bender of fate. I have traveled far to be here from Westland to explore the world and discover the lost mysteries of the past. I will have some of that wine I suppose, in moderation."
When the others arrive she bows to them slightly and says in common, "More visitors I see. I am Mirana an explorer of these lands and one of the Elvenkind. If you require a seat you may join this table for there is places available."
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In Elven to Mirana"Well met Cousin of the autumn winds, I hail from lands near Bain's people just south of starfall or whatever it is those gnomes call their place. I too seek illumination into the lost mysteries, perhaps something has guided our hands today to meet."
Turning towards the dwarf I continue in dwarven"Good Bain do you understand the Western Tongue or just the Eastern of your people."
tilting my head to side slightly I look at Dolin and raise an eyebrow and in elvish I ask. "What about my names as funny? <hick, hick> I hold my brea<hick>th for a mom<HICK>ent and try to make them sto<HICK_UP>p.
The young human looks confused. "Funny? I don't remember thinking anything was funny about your name. You embarrassed me, is all, by pointing out that I had forgotten to introduce myself. I'm not used to meeting new people."
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finally getting the hickups under control. "I didn't mean to embarrass you lad. Ahh thought that my name had some strange other meaning in the southlands that I was unaware of. I don't talk this much.. usually. This city has me on my nerves. Supposed to meet someone here, no clue who or what they look like. was just told to sit and wait.. You all are plesent enough company I don't mind doing the waiting with you."
looks at Magelin and in Dwarven I never learned your fair language, I always ment to He orders an ale and listens to the others talk.
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I nod at Bain and say in Dwarven "And so you shall, if its important I will speak with you in your tongue, otherwise I will speak mine in the hopes you pick up a few words. I then sip my wine and continue to speak in elvish hoping that maybe Bain may learn a word or two as it appears he just wants to listen.
Mirana takes a small glass of the wine and drinks it slowly savoring the taste of the beverage. She then says in common to Dolin "You appear to be a man with much dexterity in his pose. From looking at the bow you carry I believe you are man rather skilled in archery. It is a common discipline practiced by both elf and human. Magelin and yourself seem to both be proficient in the art."
"The bow is how I have always contributed. I am a hunter by trade. The goal of any good hunter is to bring home the meat without actually risking his own skin. Military men all seem to think that if they don't risk their lives then they aren't doing their jobs. That mindset scares me."
As you talk amongst yourselves, you see a couple of men move up to the front door. One steps outside, whilest another slouches against the door frame. From the way he stands, you get the feeling that he is looking into the room and out at his companion on the front porch.
As if an unheard bell sounded, the room quiets. From up above, you hear the stomping of feet. Listening closer, you hear the pad of a foot and the thud of something else. The noise moves towards the top of the staircase. The unseen person descends, soft pad, hard thump. Halfway down, the hard thump is revealed to be that of a peg leg. Attached below the knee, the stump has several nails driven through it, and signs of dark brown stains denote its violent use.
the rest of the body emerges into view, revealing a strong man, large broad shoulders, square jaw, and cool calculating eyes. His hands, large and strong enough to lift up a blacksmiths anvil in each, holds a large bag. Its contents shake and shift within.
THe man glances about, staring at everyone with equal distrust.
You all are here because of your hatred for the federation. No one here believes that they have the right to take away the freedoms that we are born with. Born free-
DIE FREE the room responds.
thats right. Die Free. Now is a most fortunate time. Rumor has it that the Elves have returned. Not the community of half-elves at pykon, or around the westlands. No, real elves, full breeds. The Fey have returned. ANd with them, the magic to repeal the Federation. Now, they by themselves dont have the means to repeal the Fed by themselves, BUT! With the aide of Dwarves, Gnomes, Man, and Elf, we can win this!
THe man reaches in and pulls out a bag the size of a head.
To do this, we must achieve one goal. Deliver a seed to the elves. The dwarves of Culhaven lost their great Gardens 100 years ago, and have since lived in misery. This seed is a symbol of their freedom. In order for it to bloom, it must be planted in fertile soil, but fertile with magic. According to legend, The Ellcrys is planted within this soil, which is similar to the soil of the dwarven Gardens. In order for an alliance to be facilitated, this seed must be planted within the royal garden. Only then, can a dwarf set foot within Arborlon.
He pauses, tossing his bag to a table in the far corner, near the door. Then pulls out another, and tosses. he continues to pull and toss until everyone has a bag in front of them.
each of you has a bag, but only one of you has the seed. Not even I know which bag has the seed. The bags are to remain sealed, lest the seed wither.
As you all look at the bag, he says ominously This seed is more precious than all of you. It is more valuable than your life, for should it fall within the wrong hands, then it is death for the Free Lands.
walking over to a table, the man puts his hand onto a female half-elfs shoulder. Be steadfast and resolute and Good luck!
Mirana Falataur listens to the speech and then says to the man, "I think your information is rather flawed concerning the elves. I am a full pure blooded elf, not some filthy half-breed mix. The elves may have been uninvolved in human affairs for a while but we never left I assure you. Nonetheless this Federation does appear to be an oppressive organization and I will do what I can to help bring freedom to your people."
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Stepping beside Mirana I lay a hand lightly, protectively on my cousins shoulder. In the southern toungue without one trace of the federation drawl as i pull back my hood revealing my pointed ears and eyes that shine like emeralds. "My cousin is correct friend. While I have never crossed paths either with this Federation, nor really heard much beyond angry mutters. I was told back in the Westlands. That the key to the future of all the races will be born here. If there is need for the Bow of one your friends from the West. KNow that I am but the first of our woodsmen to come this way in years.. but We come in your time of Need!
"We'll need a whole lot less 'But that's not what happened' and revealing of elven features if we're going to sneak out of the Federation territory and to your home. Once we cross into your homeland, your nature could be of great benefit. Right now, it is a way to attract unwanted attention. A hunter tries not to draw the attention of other predators in the area. We need to be part of the background, unnoticed and unimportant."
A burly man stands up from his table, grabbing a pouch with a seed in it. He has brown hair, green eyes, and the calloused hands of a man who works hard for a living. He wears chain mail under his weather cloak, and carries more than a few axes of varying sorts.
"Too long have I labored for this city, only to see the benefit go to black-booted thugs. I'll gladly deliver this seed if it means we get those goons out of the lands of man for good."
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Looking at Dolin and speaking in a low voice so only those at the table can hear, "I think you misunderstand the current situation. Everyone in this room feels like we do. Your people seems to be vary downtrodden, this federation, they are not good Lords. Perhaps knowing that not just one but two of us Westerns And a good Eastern are assisting on this task.. It will give them strength when our fellow seedbears are in times of trouble on this dangerous journey we all are setting out on."
"Tell me the truth does it not warm your heart to see all of our peoples united again for this cause.. even if the root be evil as your federation appears to be.. I can not hate it, for without it, neither Mirana nor myself would have come here to aid you."
[ooc]Bluff-to try and make Dolin more happy and less worried about us elves showing ourselves.
"Maybe. Speeches and rallying cries and such have never been a strong point for me."
Tyrants come and go through out history, I am wise enough to know tyrants are always seeking ways to grow their power. I wise to help crush this tyrant He stands up lifting his axe and shield
"I'll drink to that" Kennar says, lifting his mug in one hand and a battle Axe in the other.
others around the room rise up and give voice to their hatred of the Federation. Some raise fists, others draw swords. Cries of death to the federation and hang them all bellow forth from individuals. During all this, the man nods along, shaking hands with others throughout the room.
Finally, after the noise begins to settle, he continues.
Aye. Death to the federation. Remember, you must make haste to the new city of Arborlon, and it must be there by the start of the next new moon.
What needs to be at the city of Arborlon by the new moon? a voice cuts through the silence. All eyes turn towards the door, and where two men should be standing, instead one man stands.
Clad in the federation uniform, a simple black sash across his chest denotes his special rank. Seeker. His short stature is belied with a very fluid grace, that found with the most expert of swordsmen.
Striding boldly into the room, he looks at everyone, as if memorizing faces. Soon he stands within the center, next to the man with the peg leg.
Another hive of villany and scum? You Rebel scum, worthless and pathetic the lot of you are. Just surrender, and peace will be with you
Never! a man cries out, his sword outstretched, seeking the mans back.
At the last moment, the Seeker appears to bend around the blade, contorting his body in a strange manner that isnt possibly human. The swordsman has barely time to register the failed strike when the thing falls upon him, grabs a fistful of hair, bends the head back and latches its lips onto the mans neck. A loud gurgle emits from the mans mouth, only to be followed by a fountain of blood. A heartbeat later, the thing drops the man to the floor, dead.
with blood dribbling down its chin and chest, it stares at the room. Who's next? it asks in a deathly whisper.
Mirana Falataur tries to use the distraction of the attack on the Federation Officer to look for an exit (Perception) and begin moving in that direction stealthy (Stealth).
Unfortunately not knowing this location well she fails to see a route out besides the front door but nonetheless moves to vanish into the crowd of patrons and hopefully stay out of sight.
"Those who stay won't be traveling. Time to go." Dolin agrees with Mirana, and hopes the small group can get out the door before that . . . thing starts the killing for which it was sent. "This way?" he indicates, hoping he's understood the building layout well enough.
Bain starts flipping tables as he follows the other three suggest we hurry that thing is not going to wait on us
Kennar pulls his hood up and makes for the back door, ducking into any available shadow upon exiting. He draws an axe along the way.
Mirana Falataur trails her companions silently and stealthy as they seem to know where the other exit is.
to determine the best way out of town, avoiding main streets if possible (if i dont already know a good way out)
Calamity and Chaos erupts within the tiny room as everyone leaps to action. Some men leap at the Seeker, others move to leave the by the front door. As they press forward a couple more Federation soldiers attempt to block the door.
Others, seeing the congestion at the front, follow you to the back. Pushing through the swinging doors into the kitchen, you see daylight by way of the open back door.
In a single file line, you all rush through the door. Your eyes barely have time to adjust to the bright light when you hear the TWANG of a bow string...
The feather shaft flys past the sides of your heads, and a loud wet smack and moan inform you that the arrow found a victim.
Sprinting hard, you rush through the open fence in the back and out into a narrow alley. Without pause, Kennar turns to go further into the alleyway. THis way he shouts, sprinting down the alley and then ducking into the opening of a warehouse just as you hear the call of a soldier from behind you shouting for reinforcements to follow you.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Mirana Falataur is hella stealthy but is unable to recall too much about the areas geography being a foreigner here and decides to just follow the ones who know the way better than her.
Ducking into old buildings, through warehouses and smithies, and hiding within a tannery, you manage to elude the federation soldiers. Taking stock of your location, you proceed west, towards the western gates.
Merging with the populace, you go with the flow towards the gate, and file in behind the backlog of people attempting to exit the city. Further ahead, you see several federation soldiers inspecting the goods of random people. The soldiers dump out the person's sacks onto the ground, allowing the produce and belongings to mingle with others who are still picking up.
A burly man stands up from his table, grabbing a pouch with a seed in it. He has brown hair, green eyes, and the calloused hands of a man who works hard for a living. He wears chain mail under his weather cloak, and carries more than a few axes of varying sorts.
"Too long have I labored for this city, only to see the benefit go to black-booted thugs. I'll gladly deliver this seed if it means we get those goons out of the lands of man for good."
Bain keeps his hand near his axe whispering to himself as he watches the soldiers
Whispering back: "Fighting here means failure. Pride is not the goal."
nods as he whispers to Dolin Aye lad but we need to slow them up or distract them somehow. looks around to see whats in the area