Caldwell bows slightly to acknowledge Lord Wallingham's greeting. "Our Supreme Shepherd asked me to inform you that he concurs with your assessment of the situation, however he did not share the contents of the letter with me. He has instructed me to offer whatever assistance I deem necessary to achieve our mutual objective."
Caladrel takes a seat near Lord Wallingham.
The family reacts warmly to Jerry's familiarity, although Lady Rowena scarcely conceals an eyeroll at the cavalier's wanton flattery. "Glad to hear it," Lord Wallingham says. "I wish I had known you were back in the country. My wife hosted a garden party in the spring, and we would have invited you had we known. It may become an annual event, so perhaps next year. Goodness knows this house hadn't hosted a good party since..." He catches himself, and Jerry can well fill in the detail: Not since the passing of Lord Wallingham's first wife. "We will make sure you are on the invite list," he concludes with a smile.
To Caladrel, Lord Wallingham responds, "We will discuss all of the business in my study after we have dined."
The dinner is an elaborate affair, with a succession of courses, served by the quiet and efficient footmen. Longworth ensures that everyone's wine glass is full (those of you who would be able to tell the difference can note that Lord Wallingham has a prodigious cellar - this is no cheap inn-quality vintage). The footmen seem ill at ease around some of the more exotic guests. The shaky hands of one young man nearly spill a sauce on Trina as he studiously avoids looking upon her complexion.
"I trust you all had a safe and uneventful journey to Wallingham Manor," Lady Rowena says, by way of stimulating conversation.
For her part, Trina is reserved, observant, and quiet, listening intently to the conversations passing over the table and taking a slow but studious sampling of the provided food - though she notably avoids most vegetables, taking only small bits if any at all, and focuses more primarily on meats and dairy. She remains as still as possible when the nervous servant comes near, thankfully avoiding a dousing as well as something inconvenient like him tripping over her tail or, even more embarrassing, one of her tendrils deciding to investigate him.
She hasn't had food or wine like this ... well, ever, really. So she takes her time, enjoying the provided delicacies, and working in small portions - primarily not drinking too much of the wine, wanting to keep her senses straight. She listens carefully, paying attention to any conversation that occurs, but speaks little unless directly addressed, and waits for the others to reply first when a question is posed to the entire group, such as Lady Rowena's opening inquiry.
Smitty looks around at the bedchamber and is mildly impressed by the craftsmanship. "Probably elven," he muses. He then realizes that the butler sent him here to change into something more formal for dinner...and he has nothing of the sort, since he left in such a hurry to get here.
"Ah well, I'll just wash up and hope that my hosts forgive my appearance."
After a few minutes of hasty tidying up and trying to remove random smudges from his leathers, he makes his way to the dining hall, where he notices everyone has been seated and is enjoying their meal. Hopeful that no one will notice his entrance, he makes his way to an empty chair far from the head of the table.
The outrageous blandishments reduce as the meal progresses, though he makes sure Lord Wallingham is pleased with the way the party is going - without another thought to his previous wife. Making sure he seats himself next to sit the daughter, Lady Rowena, to enjoy some light conversation; for the others are sure to wish to talk to Lord Wallingham & Jerry is happy to catch up in more relaxed surroundings with a brandy to hand.
Joined by an new dwarf; Jerry introduces himself. "Sir Dwarf, I am Jeremiah Roberts - Knight of the Shield."
The first few courses are of an exquisite quality and the sorbets in between delightful palate cleansers. "A grand menu and a marvellous kitchen." he compliments the household. "A spring soiree sounds perfect, a picnic on the grass - it'd be an honour to attend. I'm just crestfallen to have missed the last one." he shrugs; "I hadn't quite returned to The Estate then."
'Hmmmm, hope it's nothing too serious, why I've been summoned.' he hopes.
Smitty realizes that he cannot stay out of notice at a party, but he startles when Jeremiah introduces himself.
"Er...good day, Jeremiah Roberts, Knight of the Shield. My name is Smitty. It's a pleasure to meet you."
He then returns to the delicious roast squab on his plate. Now which blasted fork am I supposed to use?, he ponders as he studies the array of silverware before him.
When the dinner concludes and the last course is cleared away, Lord Wallingham rises to his feet. "Perhaps we can retire to my study and I can tell you all why you have been summoned."
The lady of the house, Lady Belinda, as well as Lord Wallingham's younger daughter, Lady Philomena, retire to separate activities and only Lady Rowena accompanies her father to the study. "Lady Belinda has a delicate disposition," Lord Wallingham says by way of apology. "Such talk distresses her." Lady Rowena's expression plainly evinces her disdain for her step-mother's lack of fortitude.
One does not summon a ragtag group like this for good news, Trina muses as she follows the lord and lady to the designated area.
Upon arriving in the study, she leaves available seats open for the others in the group and takes up a place standing along one wall, preferably looking for a location without too much wall decor, bookshelves, or other things her uncontrolled extremities might get curious about and start trying to fiddle with. Once an appropriate position is found she crosses her arms behind her back and curls her tail around her feet under her skirt to prevent any unfortunate tripping, and awaits everyone else to get comfortable and for Wallingham to begin his explanation.
Rhodes sits on the other side of the room from Trina.
Smitty finds a comfortable chair to sit in.
Sylvia drifts into the parlor and sits in a comfortable chair near the fire. "Excellent. It's nice to be getting to the point. Not that dinner wasn't good. Because it was. But still, nice to know what's going on and, well, how much trouble we're in." Her fingers fidget with the clasp of her belt bouch until she realizes what she's doing and folds her hands in her lap.
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Longworth offers brandy or liqueur to the guests and then takes his leave, closing the door behind him.
Lord Wallingham pauses before beginning. "For twelve generations, my ancestors have watched over these lands, keeping watch over the countryside and protecting the farmers and villagers who dwell here. There was a time when that meant garrisoning soldiers to protect the fields from marauding orcs. In the current age, such threats are unheard of, but I take my duties very seriously nonetheless."
"Something is occurring which I, frankly, do not know how to deal with. It began with the fields themselves. Whole fields of crop withered to dried husks overnight, fruit turned white and rotted through. It is a force of decay unlike anything I have ever seen. My first thought was something mundane - perhaps a fungus or plant blight. Crops have failed before, although this was in particularly spectacular fashion."
"But then it started effecting the animals as well. Goats and cattle... I can only describe it as... age. They stopped producing milk, but then continued to deterioate. Like they aged and returned to the earth. In one case, an entire flock reduced to withered heaps." He pauses to collect himself.
"This was all very alarming by itself, but then a boy on one of the farms was afflicted. He had been out tending the flock, and what affected them affected him, albeit more slowly. It was as if he aged his entire lifetime in the span of a few days. Our best clerics could do nothing for him." He pauses again.
"Constable Barston, always a determined servant of the community, set out to investigate. The disturbances are most concentrated on the fringes of the Bradenwood, to the northwest. When he came to see me after investigating, he looked unbelievably pale. He could say nothing coherent of what he had seen, and babbled at times in an an unknown tongue. We tried to keep him here to rest and recover his wits, but he snuck out during the night. His tracks led right back to the Bradenwood. What could have drawn him back to that place I cannot imagine. We have not seen him since."
"This is not an investigation for the constabulary," he continues. "They are not equipped to deal with such raw power. In the old days, that wood teemed with rangers and a circle of druids who would tend to the needs of the wild places, but such is not the case today. It seemed to me the best recourse to assemble a group of talented explorers and investigators, equipped to handle a variety of scenarios, to find out what is going on in that forest and how it can be stopped."
"That is where all of you come in. This mission is dangerous, but you are the best hope for our lands to be rid of this menace."
"I'm in. At least it's not a jabberwock hunt. I've been on one too many of those bedeviled things."
Smitty looks at Lord Wallingham after a draw from his glass.
"I take it the best course of action is to follow the trail of your errant constable?"
Trina winces at some of the descriptions, particularly the case of the stable boy. She nods immediately following Smitty's affirmation. "And I. This is no disease, not of any sort I have ever encountered nor heard of, and sounds if anything like a magical curse or hex. Such a thing should have a source... if it lairs within those woods, it could have been that which called to the man and drew him into its grasp."
"It could be something entirely natural, too, such contamination with some new chymic or mutagen. I'm certainly interested in finding out what could do that, and if effects could be reversed." Sylvia taps her fingertips together, staring into the fire as the gears turn.
Lord Wallingham responds to Smitty, "I leave that to your judgment. It certainly sounds like a good place to start. Of course, Barston's tracks will be old by now, but we can tell you which way he went."
"You will, of course, be compensated for your efforts."
"How far was he followed, Lord Wallingham? Is this a matter of an afternoon's stroll or a couple days' journey?" Sylvia's thoughts turn to the ordeal of managing Chanticleer again.
"It is a mere 5 miles to the forest edge. I sent none to follow him; for a mere man-at-arms or local deputy, it would have been a death sentence. They went only far enough to see that he entered the wood. It is clear that what we are facing is greater than a mere mortal threat."
"And how long ago was Constable Barston lost in the wood?" Sylvia pursues.
"It was one week ago," Lord Wallingham says, "which is when I wrote your summonses."
Lady Rowena chimes in, "The delay was too long. I see little hope of him being found alive."
Lord Wallingham becomes defensive. "There was no way to gather up a suitable group of heros in any less time, and to have sent anything less would simply be sending more men to their deaths."
Lady Rowena seems stubbornly attached to her views, but does not question her father further.
During dinner Jerry does notice the hesitation by certain parties at the formality of the occasion, he tries to subtly take the lead indicating what cutlery to use and other etiquette that would be expected. However not trying to enforce any behaviour, just helping those that wish it.
As the Lady's Belinda and Philomena retire, Jerry gives a courteous bow to them. "I am glad of pleasure of your company, now matter how brief. Some things like a rainbow or sunset appear all too brief."
However he becomes serious as the retire to the study, turning to the Lord and being seated. The confident and relaxed manner of the man is a sign of his breeding - taking the drink to hand and offering snuff to any who would partake.
As Wallingham starts talking about the problems they have been brought here for; "Gadzooks!" the noble exclaims in his cultured tones, then looks to the mixed company and bows his head in apology.
He looks deep into the rich deep colour of his drink"Are there any of the old druids that still know the woods? Any tinkers or vagabonds that work the woods - a guide is much appreciated." he doesn't even seem to take into consideration turning down the land-owner.
"Or has anyone been culling the woods recently, gathering firewood or lumber for mills?" he pauses swirling his brandy to release the aroma; "There must be a reason for this horrific blight."
Caladrel spends most of the dinner in silence listening to the conversation, uncomfortable in this opulent setting. Once they retire to the study, he listens to Lord Wallingham's description of the menace facing the land.
"It has been a week since the unfortunate constable has disappeared. But when did the first signs of the blight begin to be noticed?" asks the druid.
"There was a druid," Lord Wallingham explains. "Gindel, they called him. In my youth, he tended those woods and knew everything that happened within them. I have not seen or heard from him in some ten years, though. I assume he has died. There is a ranger by the name of Nathan who resides within the wood today and knew old Gindel quite well. He too is getting on in years. I have sent for him, but heard nothing."
"I suspect if you go to one of the farms near the forest edge, one of the shepherds might show you the spot when the Constable entered, but I do not suspect they will accompany you beyond."
To Caladrel, he says: "The blight began affecting crops at the very start of summer - perhaps a fortnight before the solstice."
He nods at Caladrels' clever query, working out the time-frame of the activities.
"I take it we would not find Nathan outside the wood, though do the shepherds know where he is to be found. For meandering in a forest is a fools errand." he thinks solemnly; "Also that there is no ownership or boundary disputes about the wood, or with the local farmers?"
'Hopefully they can get a new crop in before the autumn and harvesting season.' he thinks optimistically.
"Would the Lady Rowena be joining us?" he asks her directly with a smile and polite incline of his head.
Raising the bowl to his lips and gently letting the fiery liquid trickle over; "You seem like an adventurous companion." there's an easy warmth to his words, the sure confidence that comes with having a line of noble ancestors looking over your shoulder.
"That is if everyone wishes to acquiesce to his Lordships' offer." he notes though most have affirmed such a notion.
'A poisoned well, riled spirits of the forest, vagrants, a band of brigands, a corrupt item of power.' he ponders the possibilities, enjoying the fragrant brandy and the opulent surroundings.
"The local folk may be able to direct you to the trails Nathan uses within the wood. I will arrange for an opportunity to speak with them."
When Jerry proposes that Lord Wallingham's daughter accompany the party, Lady Rowena smirks, but Lord Wallingham speaks up quickly, "Absolutely not. I do not underestimate my daughter - she is well-traveled and competent - but there are some things that are beyond her experience."
He suppresses an urge to raise an eyebrow at that statement.
"Perhaps it's wisest." he adds. His vision slips across the study and to his companions, trying to assess their strengths and such.
"Caladrel do you think you could guide us through the undergrowth? Perhaps Commune with the nature of the Woods?" he muses.
"Whilst Sylvia, mayhaps you'd have a portable lab to analyse the nature of the soil and water - lest it be some vile but natural poison." he adds.
Jerry puts his hand to his head remembering something important, looking back to their host. "Oh, dear Wallingham - what does this Constable Barston look like? For when we find him. Plus we may need a writ of authority from you, just in case someone doubt's our legitimacy."
"Of course," Lord Wallingham says of the writ. "As for Constable Barston, he was a few years older than me. Perhaps 60 years of age. Thin, grey hair."
Lady Rowena chimes in, "He has a scar above his right eyebrow. It has been there for as long as I can remember.
Lord Wallingham elaborates, "From his days in the Service, if memory serves."
He continues: "I propose setting out in the morning. It won't do to be wandering the woods at night."
"Agreed, once I find Milady's pony of course." Jerry nods to the alchemist, having not forgotten his duty and the trip he'll have to make to Markshire in the morning.
Trina does some quick calculations in her head. It's been a couple of months. If the Constable is still alive, I doubt he is still himself, most certainly in mind but likely in body as well. Perhaps it may not be wise to say so in front of our prospective employer, but we should not get our hopes up. Peace and an end to his suffering may be all we can offer, if he even still lives.
"I can be ready to depart at first light," she replies aloud. She wonders vaguely if Wallingham intends to house them in their respective rooms here for the night - if so, she'll need to likewise return to Markshire, to retrieve the remainder of her adventuring belongings from the lockbox in her inn room back in the village. In particular her glaive - she has no plans of wandering into the forest without it.
"I might be able to nip off to Markshire, pick up the horse and then catch up with you at Bradenwood before dark." he adds hopefully. "Luce is a fast lass."
"Look, it's just a pony. 50 gold and we're good. Seriously, Mister Roberts, it's hardly worth the trouble," Sylvia declares decidedly, "And are we going to follow tonight or in the morning? It's been some time already, and not everyone can see in the dark. Or even the dim." She taps her eye appreciatively.
"Morning would be best," Trina replies, nodding. "I do not like the idea of heading into a forest - especially one as wrong as whatever is causing this ailment - after dark."
She then nods toward Jeremiah. "While that may be so, Miss Sylvia, I likewise need to return to Markshire before morning; I left supplies and resources there that I would not dare go on such a journey without, inappropriate for a dinner and meeting such as this as they may have been." She bows her head to Lord Wallingham and Lady Rowena, then turns to Jeremiah. "If you intend to return to the village tonight, I would accompany you, if you have no objection."
Jerry inclines his head and says knowing Sylvia would understand; "It's now a matter of honour. Plus I wouldn't want a distressed animal roaming the lands."
"Tonight, Miss Trina?" he pauses; "It'll be quite dark out and provided you aren't perturbed it'd be my honour to escort you - though the ride may be long. Might I pick up your items for you?" he coughs politely not wanting to imagine what inappropriate items she has.
"I don't mind the dark," she says simply, with a slight shrug. "And better now than to delay departure tomorrow, I think."
Arching an eyebrow at Trina's comment, he wisely says nothing.
A small motion of his hand and the brandy swirls in his glass; "Luce is more active after dusk and does like a good run. How are you at riding milady?" he inquires.
"I managed the trip here by horse," she says simply. "I can manage, provided the ride isn't too wild. Animals tend to be ... skittish around me, though. Fair warning."
"You'd take your own mount? Or would you like to ride with me?" he phrases the question very carefully to avoid any insinuations. "Luce can carry 2, she has done before..." the untold story is left hanging in the air and he takes a sip of the warming liquid.
Trina nods calmly. "The ride is welcomed, thank you. My own mount is likewise stabled at the village; I came to the manor by foot."
"I hate to see you undertake an errand at this late hour, but I understand," Lord Wallingham says. "Riding, you can be to Markshire in under 45 minutes, attend to what you must, and return for the night.
Jerry will bow to Lord Wallingham and apologise for he would have minded a game of billiards, but duty calls.
"And of course, Lady Rowena, it'll be so much the duller without your conversation." he flatters with a sly wink to reassure the Lady of his good intentions.
His florid but curt bow to his companions signifies him leaving the room. "I'll see you all in the morning, first light for us to set out. And Miss Trina, I'll be out front with dear Lucy in 10 minutes once I get changed."
"I don't know how the rest of you got here, but I've spent three days on the back of that smelly animal and couldn't be happier to have a chance at a good rest. What time shall we meet in the morning? I have a few things to brew up first thing, but it won't take long before I'm ready to travel. What about all of you?"
Sylvia rises as Roberts does, from some automatic pack instinct rather than politeness and looks around to her companions rather curiously, then turns to their host. "Lord Wallingham, how will Rowena get experience if she doesn't do anything? If you don't trust her to be safe with us, then you don't think we're very safe. Or very good. Or have much confidence we'll get back alive. You must understand this is rather alarming to me."
Luce looks up at the human standing beside her, with a little sniff to indicate that he's allowed to be in her regal presence. Shifting her back under the finely made saddle, it slips into place. She's not adversed to the ride, especially with him but to go out again today.... well she'll just have to make him pay for the insolence with a fast run.
A heavy crunch of gravel under her pads, she shifts in position to look at the doorway, someone was coming outside to join Jerry. Someone who didn't smell quite right...
"Of course," she replies, and returns his bow with a much milder one, lacking the flourish - or the acrobatics - of the cavalier.
"Thank you for your hospitality," she says in turn to their host and his daughter, then heads out and makes her way to the manor's entrance.
Any servants or aides she passes on the way would note the tiefling fighting with her cloak's hood several times along her way out - after behaving themselves throughout most of the dinner and ensuing discussion, it seems the uncontrolled portions of her body have become restless, and are taking the opportunity to make an annoyance of themselves. The grimace on her face is one of combined irritation and pain; it seems when they fight like this it doesn't leave her unscathed, though thankfully nothing is bleeding.
She waits at the entrance until Jeremiah arrives, looking out into the dark and wondering where his mount is. The idea of riding a lion boggles her mind, but she'll try anything once; so long as she doesn't have to worry about the beast getting out of control and deciding she looks appetizing.
Then again, anything that eats me might regret it later, she muses, a bitter smile coming to her lips.
Wearing a light riding suit, a grey linen of such a material to keep the cool air out. Of course the cut is appropriately fitted to his lean muscular physique, managing to emphasise his broad shoulders well used to armour. However, now he wears none and carries little more than a lance.
He acknowledges Alastríona as he moves to her, Luce looks up at the pair and there's a low rumble deep in her chest. The lioness pads around unsure of what or who the strange woman is. There's some distrust and distaste to the feline, who looks up with kohl lined eyes at the robed lady.
Jerry produces a bit of horse hair from his pocket and waves it before Lucys crystal blue eyes, she nudges it with her nose intrigued. "We find horse!" he orders in his most authoritative voice, granted by generations of breeding. Then he ruffles the back of her mane as he saddles her up.
Turning to Trina he adds with an apology; "Do you wish to sit before or behind me? I'm sorry if you'd find such thing distasteful."
"Not at all," she replies with a smile, careful not to meet the lion's gaze eye to eye - Trina's knowledge of animal life is limited, but she recalls hearing from her mentor once or twice about not meeting predators (she meant wolves, of course, but Trina sees no reason why it wouldn't apply to big felines as well) in the eye, as it could be received as a challenge. "Whichever is more comfortable for you. You'll be directing our escort, after all. So long as I don't fall, I've no preference."
She pauses, then blushes slightly - a purplish darkening of her blue-grey skin. "Behind might be preferable, the tail is prone to getting in the way otherwise I'd imagine."
"Don't worry I'll keep you safe." he says protectively then he mounts up on the exotic saddle. The fine leather oiled and soft to the seat, he pats it gently as he scoots up.
One the pair sits on Luces' back, she starts off towards village. A deep rhythmic hum vibrates through her chest into the saddle, a low threatening growl that causes Jerry to scratch her ear warningly.
'Yeah, find horse. Get thing off back onto it instead.' Luce thinks as she bounds off back down the drive and out on the road to Markshire.
At Sylvia's suggestion, Lord Wallingham grows stern. "I do not wish to be questioned in this. My daughter has been huntress and explorer, but never an investigator into the occult. I will not have her going into that wood."
Lady Rowena says nothing.
Soon they are eating up the miles with a smooth bounding gait interspersed with periods of slower plodding.
"I try to keep my weight down, young Luce here is as big as a fellow but don't like putting too much strain on her." he rubs the nape of her neck as the trot along towards Markshire. "Sorry, she can get a bit temperamental. Especially when other young ladies are involved." he adds.
Grey twilight flicks across his features starkly highlighting the group, as the last of the evening light retires. As they get to the village Jeremiah dismounts and helps Alastríona down.
"I'll just see if I can find the pony, if you wouldn't mind riding it back?" he says apologetically realising that Luce's reaction to the tiefling wasn't too favourable.
In fact, the lioness chooses that moment to show her displeasure and head-butts Jerry's posterior. This puts him off balance and he ends up sprawled on the dirt, dust covering his clothes. He looks up at the feline with an arched eye-brow. "Was that really necessary?" he asks trying to keep the amusement off his face. Looking up at Trina from his absurd position, he smiles widely. "Ta-ta for now, I'll look for the pony."
Getting up and brushing off the dust he looks around for signs of the pony's entry into the village or surrounding fields. 'I guess she might have gone onto the green, or allotments.'