Excellent, we look forward to it, and thank you so much for showing us a little bit more of your excellent facilities here.
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Ishta hides her surprise at the Zhents knowing their favourite dishes, something she's not sure she likes especially when they've been told the Watchers weren't expected here. She makes a mental note to comment on that later.
You spend an hour an a half getting ready in the guest quarters. These where on top of a guard tower, and where spotlessly clean but basic. This was a frontier outpost not a hotel after all. There was an excellent view although you could tell the polite guards outside where keeping a wary eye on you. You got the impression they never really trusted anybody no matter who might come to visit.
After awhile Sargent Ragnar dressed in his formal attire came knocking. He complemented Azarra and Ishta on their apparel and escorted you into the Officer's mess hall. The hall was large enough for fifty in cramped conditions but there where currently eighteen officers spread across five tables with the head table reserved for yourselves and the commandant.
Again there where introductions and small talk as the first course was served. A choice of pea and ham or carrot soup, served with croutons and white wine. While simple it was done well, it was clear Bryon the chef knew his stuff.
As the first course was cleared away one of the offers stood up and bowing to the commandant said, "Sir! I believe it's something of a transition to share stories of the north in occasions such as these..."
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The commander smiled, "Indeed! Thank you Marcus for reminding us."
Smiling to the Watchers of Dawn and then to the officer corps he smiled, "Well then, allow me to begin. I think I shall tell the tale of Dirg, Warrior of the Snow People. It is an old story of the Northmen I heard years ago heard while serving at the Citadel of the Raven across the Dragonspine Mountains."
"Dirg was the usual barbarian hero, the type able to snap five men’s backs with his bare hands, wrestle and tame the cloud horses, pierce a man with a javelin from miles away, and other equally preposterous things!"
"The story goes that Dirg, while wandering with his men in the snowy wastes, found a pool of unfrozen glimmering water. The water was so hot it boiled the skin from his pet Jezma, a little lizard that wandered too close. Angered, he thrust his spear into the pool and roiled the waters splashing him. This disturbed a demon of fire who rose out to do battle with Dirg. The demon leapt from man to man, consuming them but could not defeat Dirg, but neither could Dirg find a weapon strong enough to withstand the creature’s heat."
"After battling for an entire day, Dirg finally called upon his totem god for aid. With this magical power, Dirg was able to trap the flaming demon in a triangle of power, where it supposedly is even to this day. It was only after the battle his concubine Elaja commented that his skin was suffused with starlight and he glowed in the dark. They say that it was as if the pool's essence had somehow been infused within him, fueling his inhuman strength."
He smiled and there was polite applause from the officers. Turning towards the watchers of dawn he added, "Of course this was all long ago and maddeningly hard to confirm, but it does make a pretty story! Speaking of which, perhaps you would care to share a story or an anecdote from your adventures?" This got a general murmur of approval from the officer corps.
Azarra can tell that the story wasn't chosen at random, and wonders if the man is probing them for information... the story of the pool sounded familiar. Something they had read in the library perhaps? She couldn't quite put her finger on it.
Azarra looked at the others to see if anyone was eager to tell a story.
"Maddening hard to confirm? Heh. It is so easy to forget that long before us, most of Faerun belonged to the many spirits of the land. Some still remain, especially so in places where we can't go." Kardas refuses to touch on the fact that back in Rashemen such spirits have always been honored and revered by the Rashemi. In truth, the practices of the Rashemen bathe the acts of his Raumathar forefathers in shame, but with the total destruction of their lands, people, and culture, how much more room for shame is there in the mind of a Raumathar?
"If it is stories you want, I should shut my mouth and let Azarra speak, for she was born to weave tales. Truly, she has a natural inclination for both prose and poetry." He then utters a soft grunt and downs his wine. "More, please?"
Ser Armithia sits at the Head table, along with the other Watchers and Zhent elite. The Paladin portrays the epitome of an honored dignitary. He partakes in small talk; drilling exercises, weapon and armor crafting, and small stories of bravery and honor.
The Knight does indeed nod in the Bard's direction for the telling of a Tale of The Watcher's of Dawn....
Azarra starts talking about a journey through the woods, telling jokes about camping in the wrong place near a fire ant nest and then correcting in the middle of the night, and then she starts singing them the song of the Watchers of Dawn versus the dragon, who came out of the night and tried to destroy the lone Ser A standing in the middle offering challenge and everyone else hidden or invisible, and coming at the dragon in surprise. She makes it clear that the dragon would be dead right now, if only Ser had been able to fly after it, but it cowardly flew away, chased by arrows, leaving the heroes still with some fire ant stings, resolving to plan better in the future...
Azarra's story went down well with laughter at her jokes and huzzahs at the end.
The main course was delivered next, with the head table getting a more than passable rendition of their favourite meals, ranging from delicate fish dishes to robust curries. There was an appreciative silence as the meal was devoured.
Whilst waiting for desert one of the commandant's advisors came in and had a short whispered conversation with him...
Speaking quietly to the Watchers of Dawn, Ripley's voice was all business, "It’s interesting Phlan chose to send you, we had been led to expect a delegation headed by Councillor Cardona, maybe he didn't trust us... This brings us to the heart of the matter, trust. We're well aware of our reputation, although if you look into it we always uphold our end of any bargain. However trust cuts both ways and we have a bit of a quandary. We've done a preliminary examination of the terms of the agreement, it doesn't give us as much access as we might hope for, but it's something we could live with. The thing is who would we be entering this agreement with? Yourselves and the councillors are a known quality and we're quite willing to cut a deal with you and them, but who actually rules Phlan?”
He let that sink in for a moment before saying, ”The concern is this agreement would in reality be with Jandark Cardona operating from the shadows. It’s not widely known but we’ve had bitter experience with that body snatching viper and the consensus from senior stakeholders is he simply can’t be trusted. A few generations ago he tried to worm his way into our ranks and dominate the leadership of the Citadel of the Raven to push them for an invasion of Cormyr with the backing of his inhuman army. Now I’ll freely admit The Brotherhood and Cormyr don’t get on, but a war of that magnitude would have no winners and the damage to business would be incalculable.”
Raising the palms of his hands in a questioning gesture he said, ”So where do we go from here?”
He took a sip of his wine, leant forward and looked you in the eye as he said, ”If there is to be a deal, the city of Phlan needs to demonstrate it’s not under the yolk of Jandark Cardona. Do that and then we can talk. But here's the thing, we don’t believe you’ll be able to do that without help. So I’ll cut to the chase, we understand there is a pool of radiance beneath Valejavo Castle which historically was accessible via a hidden sewer entrance. No we don’t know where that is but you are a resourceful group and there must be plans for the original sewer layout somewhere in the city archives.”
”The effects of a pool of radiance are hard to predict but we believe this one has given Jandark great power and made his person immune to enchanted weapons and afforded substantial resistance to magic. If you’re going to have a candle’s chance in hell of ousting him, you too will need its power, and if he achieved lichdom you’ll need to destroy his phylacetory which will be no mean feat. Beware that a pool of radiance always has a guardian of some sort.”
Ser Armithia enjoys the food, company, scenery. The Paladin engages with many of the present Officers about training and tactics during the course of the meal.
He looks the Commandant in the eyes at his mentioning of Jandark Cardona.
Your directness is appreciated on this subject. It was our desire to be the representatives of New Phlan for this meeting. We are aware of the Councilor's position and we are working on that issue.
The Knight nods in respect to Ripley.
It seems we are of the same mind. Our respect for your knowledge in this matter, Commandant. I look forward to a mutual beneficial treaty for us both.
So te cards are now face up.
"And how do we know that you don't want the pool for your own use?"
Ripley smiles, "You don't although entering a pool of radiance is not something to be done lightly. In any event surely the City of Phlan can secure it? Also perhaps we should amend the treaty to prohibit any further use from either side. Besides its not the only pool in the region, there's at least one other in Myth Drannor in addition to the one I mentioned in the story earlier."
"I wonder if it could be destroyed. That could be for the greater good, though it might have consequences."
She starts wondering about the guardian. "If I'm not mistaken, the guardian of this pool should be a silver dragon. And the guardian has to grant access willingly. If Cardona has had access to it..."
"I wonder if it could be destroyed. That could be for the greater good, though it might have consequences."
Ripley took a sip of wine as he considered, "Perhaps the pool is why Phlan has been invaded so many times in its history, destroying it may well be for the best."
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We have no love for Councilor Cardona, and we share your concerns about him being in a position to control things too much.
The Pool of Radiance might be a good tactic in order to eliminate that threat to business, and we'll take steps to locate and secure it, and to prove that Phlan is not under his yoke, by whatever means necessary.
In return, we ask for a temporary non-aggression treaty while we work on dealing with that impediment. Also, we have one other matter that delays us from returning to take action. We've been tasked with securing the release of a prisoner here. I believe his name is Lenoir.
Perhaps you would be so kind as to release him so we can be on our way? I'm happy to negotiate with you if you like, but if you want a quick and efficient business deal, then perhaps consider the potential money you would have made from his ransom as a payment to us for our actions in trying to make this treaty work and foil Jandark's plans, which are a threat to us all.
"In return, we ask for a temporary non-aggression treaty while we work on dealing with that impediment.
Ripley nodded, "Certainly. I'll get something drawn up before you leave."
"We've been tasked with securing the release of a prisoner here. I believe his name is Lenoir."
Ripley's lips compressed into a thin line, "I see."
"Perhaps you would be so kind as to release him so we can be on our way? I'm happy to negotiate with you if you like, but if you want a quick and efficient business deal, then perhaps consider the potential money you would have made from his ransom as a payment to us for our actions in trying to make this treaty work and foil Jandark's plans, which are a threat to us all."
Massaging his temple Ripley replied, "Sememmon himself was involved in Lenoir's capture, I can't just give him away for free as much as I might like to, Lenoir has made a real nuisance of himself..."
"That singing! Ugh..." interjected one of Ripley's captains.
Seeing that Azarra asked nicely Ripley sighed, "Look Sememmon would require some sort of gift in exchange. He doesn't really want or need coin, however he's a collector of exotica and appreciates beautiful or unusual things. If you've got something unusual to trade I'm sure we could come to an agreement."
Understood. We'll take stock after dinner and see if we can come up with something suitable.
Ripley nods and with that dessert is served. A light flambe meringue with rasberry coulis and cream, it was surprisingly delicious and not at all heavy on the stomach.
Afterwards Sergeant Ragnar tells you, "You're welcome to stay for a few drinks of course but when you're ready to turn in I'll escort you back to the guest quarters."
Now seems to be a good moment to mingle or not as the case may be.
Ser Armithia will request a second helping of the light flambé meringue with rasberry coulis and cream.
I am enjoying the way the sugar just dissolves on the tongue.
The gold elf stays around to mingle; gathering names and making friends.
Azarra wanders through the crowd, talking to people, but makes sure one of them is Durrent. She shakes his hand introducing herself, and if there is a way to communicate that she's a harper without everyone around seeing/knowing, she does so... but if not, then she just leaves it be. Things seemed to be under control, so she didn't want to blow his cover needlessly.
[ooc]That's my last post before vacation, so if you don't hear from me just have Azarra goes along with whatever you guys want to do. :)
Ser Armithia and Azarra spend awhile mingling. They met Captains Durrent and Chapman, Ripley's deputies, and came away with the feeling both where competent if dull. They where introduced to Cavalry Captain Hera, who came across as ever so slightly mad but rather entertaining, he had a good stock of outlandish stories. They also met most of the Lieutenants and so on and even down to the taciturn Durrent the master of hounds. There wasn't much opportunity to speak with him alone but with luck it wouldn't be necessary.
Eventually the pair retied to the guest quarters and slept fitfully. It was hard to sleep knowing you were in the middle of Zhentarium camp, in the quiet of the small hours you imagined every little noise was assassins creeping to get you. It was cold comfort that if Cardona's letter had not been intercepted then that's almost certainly what would have happened. It was almost a surprise when you awoke the next morning without finding any sharp implements sticking out of you. In fact what woke you with the dawn was the sound of awful singing, an elven voice but out of key singing an obnoxiously jaunty tune.
While you are breaking your fast a fancy looking scroll was delivered by Sergeant Ragnar, just waiting for your signatures. He also asked, "Regarding the matter of Lenoir, Commandant Ripley enquires if you would have anything to offer for a trade?"
Definitions.
The region: The moonsea area plus 100 miles in all directions.
The parties: The city of Phlan and their agents. The Zhentarim and their agents.
The period: One year commending on the date of signing.
Article of agreement.
For the period the parties agree to cease and desist acts of aggression towards each other of any nature. In addition the parties agree to render any reasonable assistance to travelling members as might be required so long as they be in good standing with the law.
Signed
Commandant Ripley of the Zhentarim
_______ diplomatic delegation on behalf of the City of Phlan
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The jarring tune almost causes Kardas to throw both his blanket and spellbook at the wall. It's dangerous to mess with someone at this early an hour when he is not a morning person. Every now and then a vein bulges in response to the elven voice as Kardas goes through his daily preparations.
When you explain that yes you have something unusual to trade, Sergeant Ragnar nods and asks an attendant to fetch the commandant. Ten minutes later Ripley appears.
He nods to you and asks, "What do you have to show me?" The picture is unfurled and he blinks in surprise and asks, "Is this what I think it is? Forgive me I'm going to cast a minor spell to check."
He quickly rattles off an Identity spell and examines the paining in more detail and slowly whistles, "No this is something else entirely! How remarkable, I think Semmemon would be delighted."
Turning you look at you he asked, "Are you sure you really want Lenoir?" Outside there was more off-key singing as a distant and very bad elven tenor started singing about the glorious sunshine pouring th through the window bars. Ripley winced and said, "No actually please take him! My orders in regards to him where quite explicit and every morning for the past six months I've considered disobeying them..."
Shortly afterwards a dishevelled looking elf with long dirty hair was escorted to you wearing a gag. His chains where removed although the gag was not.
"If I was you." whispered Sergeant Ragnar conspiratorially, "I'd keep him that way until you get home." The to elf he said, "These people from the City of Phlan have bought your parole, technically you're free but you're not welcome in our lands. I suggest you thank them by not singing."
"Mmph! Mmph! Mmph!" came the reply.
Ser Armithia will sign the pact. He also raises an eyebrow at the elf, but he figures that's just the wine.
Once Ser Armithia signed the paper, Commandant Ripley spoke up saying, "Excellent, I look forward to a future of mutual trade and cooperation with Phlan. Perhaps this is the start of something greater, there are many regional powers all vying for domination: Mulmaster; Melvaunt; even the Sembians by proxy. None trusting each other as far as they can spit, it would be better if we where to trade goods not insults. Anyway I imagine you'll be heading back to Phlan, I urge you to be cautious Jandark is as vindictive as they come."
There where more pleasantries as the delegation prepared to depart and after another ten minutes you where escorted out and back to the road by the same group as before.
Once you reached the road Sergeant Ragnar called the Zhentarim escort to a halt and they watched you depart.
The golden haired elf had wisely stayed quiet for most of this but with the Zhents a good mile in the distance he points to his gag and mumbles, "Mmmpph Mmmmm muump Muuumph!"
His words are unintelligible but you were pretty sure he is asking you to remove the gag.
"Okay, we should be safe now." Ishta's moves her hand and the piece of cloth muting Lenoir falls to the ground.
Prior to leaving the Zhent Outpost, Ser Armithia gathers the Watchers to pose a question.
I believe this Commandant an honorable man. I think it would be wise to allow him to read the assassination missive.
The gold elf grins.
Perhaps, if he has that knowledge of betrayal; he would be able to root out any Jandark conspirators here.
Ishta scratches her head, evaluating Ser Armithia's proposal. "Yeah... That could also work to create some trust, I guess. Though it might make us appear as not reliable, people who open a sealed document."
Weighing both ideas, Ishta feels more inclined towards telling the Commandant than keeping it.
With that Ripley turned around and marched back inside.
Lenoir grinned as the gag was removed and capering about he exulted by singing a cringeworthy off-key song, "♪ Free'd at last, to sing like a bird.
Oh how my heart soars with joy!
The Heroes stand tall and the road leadeth on! ♫
To fairest Phlan! Where I shall cook them a flan and serenade them with song! ♪
For tis only fair that the world doth know of their names and deeds, so their story may live oooooOOOOOOONNN! ♫"
Grinning from ear to ear he took a bow and said, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you? An encore?"
He took a deep breath as if to start some equally awful song.
Ser Armithia just turns to the others, grins and replies
Elves, huh.
"Stop!"
Ishta takes a deep breath.
"Listen, we're here to bring you back to your sister. I'm sorry for being honest, but... Well, let's say if you keep on singing, we'll put the gag back on you. You choose - nice conversation or gag. Think carefully."
Ishtar is rarely that rude, but she figures if the Zhents' reaction to his songs hasn't make him realise, he's probably self deluded and believes himself a great singer.
"Hmph!" replied Lenoir who folded his arms and looked miserable.
Well, are we immediately returning to New Phlan to make our report?
He smiles at Azarra.