It is nearly dusk once the appointed time of your summons to the guildhall of the Aldori Swordlords in the city of Restov. Inside, the sounds of servants frantically preparing tables and chairs can be heard even on the street, and the sweet smell of roast boar can be caught wafting on the wind. The warm glow of a fire proves a comforting sight through the cracks beneath the door, as it is still quite cold here in the north, despite it being late Pharast.
Two men dressed in splint mail and armed with the fabled Aldori dueling swords stand at attention on either side of the double doors at the top of the stairs leading into the building. They wear the colors and heraldry of the city of Restov, and demand proof of invitation prior to allowing entry...
Anyone here speak my Tongue. I Want to enter. There is good money in this you know. And a good place to collect on bounties! Can anyone translate for me? Dang. I need to learn the common Language.
A small Black scaled Kobold is looking down. He wears muddy breastplate, a black cloak and a Yellow hat. He looks remorseful.
That wizard was right. Never trust someone can translate things for you. This may be bad. Lots of people hate Kobolds. But I should be known. At least as not a psychopath. Then again who knows. Again. Can Anyone translate for me?
Gramlag has arrived in town later than he would of liked, tardiness is rude to your hosts, fortunately it seems he isn't late yet, and he makes his way to the guildhall hoping that he isn't the last one to arrive.
Making his way towards the hall he takes note that there is a kobold standing not to far from the front of the guild hall speaking a language that he only vaguely recognizes as the language that the wizards speak when they are casting spells or discussing magic but has no idea what the creature is actually saying. considering it isn't harming anyone and no one seems off put by it being there Gramlag shrugs and makes his way to the hall entrance and approaches the guards.
"Would ye boys know if the meeting has started yet? I have received invitation and hope I'm not too late to attend, the road was long and I arrived later than i would have liked. Are you boys taking the invitations or is there a desk within?" asking these questions Gramlag lets his twin shields slump down and rest on the ground at his feet as they can get heavy after long walks. "also im curious but why is there a kobold in town? those creatures are known for mischief but usually come in larger groups than just one"
A tall, sturdy gnome in simple but sturdy travel garb approaches taking in the scene quietly. Observing the kobold carefully, he concentrates briefly (using the comprehend language SLA), and though he can't talk directly to the kobold, he can understand what the kobold is trying to do. Pulling out his invite, he speaks to the kobold while pointing to the invite and then the guard, "Show the guard the summons and maybe someone inside can help." To further demonstrate, he walks up to one of the guards and hand the guard his summons, patiently waiting for the response.
A tall, willowy woman walks down the street towards the guildhall. Seen ahead in the distance, the structure didn't seem so imposing to Serafina as she kept her feet moving, one before the other. Surely they don't know...quit worrying! The delicious smells in the air caused other distraction, her belly rumbling in protest as she passed places where she could sit down and eat. The woman would never be mistaken for wise, but she knew better than to eat before this summons was over, for better or worse.
She was dressed for traveling, but she drew stares from most of the men she passed, all the same. Her long, glossy black hair was pulled into a serviceable ponytail, her dark eyes and fair features framed by the ebon locks. Her black tunic was tucked into dark leather breeches, both not quite loose enough to conceal the curves hidden beneath. Perhaps what drew their stares the most was the confident way she walked. Head held high, shoulders straight and slightly back, modest sway of her hips as she met the eyes of most she passed, smiling and nodding to those who seemed amiable enough.
She quells the butterflies in her stomach as she approaches the two guards, addressing the nicer-looking of the two, dazzling smile in place as she draws out the small slip of paper that contained her summons and extended it to the man.
"It's going to be a pleasant evening, is it not?" She waits patiently for the guard to review her invitation, taking care to smile at the other man from time to time, just in case. Her life had been saved more than once with nothing more than a well-placed smile, it was one of her more useful weapons.
Erimriel halts her brisk stride through Restov's thoroughfare when she finally comes within view of the guildhall. In the last, fleeting vestiges of twilight, her hair shimmers like the night sky. She had been so preoccupied with the trip itself that she hadn't noticed how late it had become. Stealing a wary glance about her, she tugs a fur-lined cowl up and around her face. The cold didn't bother her so much, but there was something comforting about the warmth and light of a fire.
From atop a nearby structure, a crow's noisy caw brings Erimriel back to the matter at hand—or the spectacle at hand, as it were. A dwarf, a gnome, and a kobold stand at the threshold of her own destination, no shortage of confusion evident in the small gathering. Erimriel is surprised the others haven't skewered the little scaled one yet, but affords little thought to the exchange beyond that. Her boots crumple, clop, and crush their way through the stiffening mud of the street and up the stairs leading to the the guildhall's egress. She casually hands a folded slip to the unoccupied guard, who takes it and scans quickly for the Swordlord seal. The guard nods, satisfied, and indicates the doors behind him with a second nod. Erimriel does not hesitate, offering a curt thanks to the doorman before pressing a gloved hand to the door and pushing it open.
Bright orange from the roaring hearths within spills out onto the street, and the tantalizing aroma of roast boar roars out onto the street with it. Careful to avoid the hurried advance and retreat of servants, Erimriel picks her away across the hall to find herself a choice seat within—a seat that commands a greater view of the room and a close proximity to where the Aldori Swordlords have cleared an area to address their guests. She catches a servant by the hem of his shirt and nods to an array of casks across the room.
"Go an' get me a lager, boy. Something rich." Her hand releases his garb and she settles into her seat. She withdraws her fur-lined hood, allowing her hair to spill back down around her face once more. Her eyes assess each arrival anxiously.
overhearing the gnome speak to the kobold Gramlag takes interest in the small creature, taking a moment to get out the invitation that hee received as well "Little one, if you mean no harm do you have something that looks like this paper?" he says pointing at the page "something with this seal on it? taking a few moments to specifically point out the elegant wax seal on the parchment.
turning to the guards he presents his paper hoping there is no issue with entry, they look at it and one of them furrows their brow at him and asks gruffly, clearly wanting this detail to be over and to be elsewhere "this invitation lacks a name, where did you come by it? and where have you come from?"
Gramlag sours a bit inside Sigh these people be so untrusting, you'd wonder if they trust there own mum without the proper paper work thinking to himself, Gramlag replies "you sent this invitation with no name on it to the leader of the town militia of Brevoy, stating in the letter that came with it that the marshal should bestow it upon anyone he deemed capable of holding their own in combat and defending a small group of people, due to my unique choice in armament as you can see here he thought i be quite good at the job, the paper has no name as it never had one to begin with" he said in a tone perhaps a tad grumpier than he intended
The one guard looked to his partner and and nodded towards the door "one minute while we confirm that sir"
hearing the Guard call him sir Gramlag clearly gets a mild case of ruffled feathers stating "i am no noble so there needn't be any reason to call me sir, either Gramlag or mr. Stoneheart, whichever you'd prefer!"
the other guard returns shortly and confirms Gramlags story about the origins of the invitation, and he is told he may enter. Gramlag hefts his shields off the ground once more but pauses "From what i gather that kobold is looking to gain entry based on the good gnome here's statement towards it, id love to know who would invite such a creature and the only way for that to happen would be if it got inside, is there someone within that can translate for it? the silly thing doesn't seem to know how to speak anything but that odd tongue the wizards use for magic, should it have a valid invitation ill even volunteer to watch over it on the inside if that eases your minds about it" Gramlag said this as the creature continues to speak in its odd language to people passing by, looking as though it is asking them something
"...I speak some Common." come a reply for Jik Jer in equally yappy, albeit somewhat slower, Draconic. Slowly moving, almost shuffling, from behind Jik Jer is another kobold. Leaning slightly on his quarterstaff/walking stick, the beige and green kobold nods as he moves alongside his black-scaled kin. "Not much, but I learned enough while teaching my little human ward..." His yellow eyes droop a bit, as if saddened at the memory, before coming back up to Jik.
"...I did not expect to find other kin out of the Lands. Well met. I am, but a single, lowly Pebble, one among many stones... but you may call me Narruk, should you wish." His tail twitched as his slitted pupils snapped to the other, larger arrivals, two of which seemed quite willing to assist. Squinting, Narruk could catch enough of what they said to grasp the concept. "You wish to help reclaim the so-called Stolen Lands? As do I... I hope to to act as a means between the new arrivals..." The kobold motioned to the guards. "...and our own tribes. An official charter will help you gain entry. A testament from trustworthy sources, such as a noble or wealthy family, would be an even greater boon."
Narruk stared down the black kobold, clawed toes twitching slightly as he spoke. "Is the purified blood of the earthen veins all you seek in this venture? Or is there more that you would choose not to share?"
Seeing that the kobold situation was resolved sufficiently and receiving permission to enter, the gnome entered the hall, and finding a good vantage point to see all who entered, called for a drink, and waited impatiently for others to arrive and engage in conversation with.
With a confident stride and an even more confident smile, Morvan walked down the street toward the guildhall. He'd often come this way as a child to gaze upon the guildhall, and even as he grew older and focused on his training he would come here with his uncle, but this time was different. This time, he would not only be able to enter the guildhall, but he would be able to enter unaccompanied by his uncle. As he continued his advance, he remembered the words his uncle had said to him before he left, "You have trained hard, and are ready for this, but remember, even though I will be there later, it is up to you to impress the Swordlords enough for them to choose you. I will not interfere with the selection process."
Stopping shortly before the square, he took one last check of himself, ensuring his high-collared green coat was properly buttoned, and that his sword was properly buckled. Once he was sure he was ready, he crossed the square towards the guarded doors. As he approached, he noticed the peculiar sight of a gnome and two kobolds apparently attempting to discuss something, a fair-skinned lady with dark hair waiting for her invitation to be inspected, and a dwarf discussing something with one of the guardsman. What a strange sight. What on earth could the kobolds be doing here?
Approaching the other guardsman, Morvan took his invitation from his belt pouch and with a small bow of his head, said, "Good evening to you. My uncle, Kalven, sends his greetings and will be along later. Here is my invitation to the feast tonight."
The guard takes and inspects the invitation, then waves Morvan through the doors.
Upon entry into the guildhall, he looked about at the hustle and bustle and, nimbly avoiding the servants, moved towards the bar area to acquire himself an ale.
"...I speak some Common." come a reply for Jik Jer in equally yappy, albeit somewhat slower, Draconic. Slowly moving, almost shuffling, from behind Jik Jer is another kobold. Leaning slightly on his quarterstaff/walking stick, the beige and green kobold nods as he moves alongside his black-scaled kin. "Not much, but I learned enough while teaching my little human ward..." His yellow eyes droop a bit, as if saddened at the memory, before coming back up to Jik.
"...I did not expect to find other kin out of the Lands. Well met. I am, but a single, lowly Pebble, one among many stones... but you may call me Narruk, should you wish." His tail twitched as his slitted pupils snapped to the other, larger arrivals, two of which seemed quite willing to assist. Squinting, Narruk could catch enough of what they said to grasp the concept. "You wish to help reclaim the so-called Stolen Lands? As do I... I hope to to act as a means between the new arrivals..." The kobold motioned to the guards. "...and our own tribes. An official charter will help you gain entry. A testament from trustworthy sources, such as a noble or wealthy family, would be an even greater boon."
Narruk stared down the black kobold, clawed toes twitching slightly as he spoke. "Is the purified blood of the earthen veins all you seek in this venture? Or is there more that you would choose not to share?"
Gold, Adventure, success, a chance to be known. Perfecting my craft. I am a bounty hunter. But These Stolen Lands, if Anyone could claim them, I could. I know a lot on geography and tracking. Have to to be successful.
I Do Think that not knowing Common may be a drawback however. Should have learned. But anyhow, I do wish to work hard. I have no tribe you see. Grew up on my own. Was invaluable to some, useless to others. I do think there is something else. maybe a chance to be more than just a bounty hunter. That has always called to me. A ruler of some kind, anything.Why are you so interested in aiding both the tribes and these non kin? What are some advantages you hope to get out of it?
What have the non kin been saying? If I am able to help reclaim these stolen lands, I will learn common finally, but until recently i have been traveling with one such as yourself, Narruk.
Serafina looks at the growing circus around the entrance with amusement as the guard looks over her invitation, finally getting a nod of approval. She smiles again, nodding to the man before stepping inside. Outwardly she is calm, but inside her pulse is racing! More flirting with disaster...it seemed she couldn't help herself in that regard.
She grins in delight as the aroma of the room permeates her, particularly the roast boar. She finds that no one gives her more than the usual glances she is used to, so relaxes, going to find a seat. Playing it safe and not wanting to draw attention to herself, she walks quickly to an empty chair, swaying as little as she can help.
As the area gets crowded, she holds up her hand to wave down a server. "Wine, if you please, and a slice of that delicious boar!" A light touch on the arm is given, as though they were best of friends. She finally looks at those sitting around her, smiling politely at those that meet her gaze. To the more intrepid who hold her gaze, she asks, "So how long do you think they'll keep us waiting? It seems like half the town is here already!"
Gromar brightens up as others enter the room. "They are nobles, they will keep us waiting as long or as short a time as it pleases them to. I am content to sit and empty their liquor cabinet as long as they desire, as I am but a humble frontiersman with little coin, and am often stuck drinking just moonshine or something close enough to it."
"ach now there be a pair of the beasts!" Gramlag remarked as a second kobold approached the first. unsure of what to do Gramlag decided to step inside the hall, if this was a gathering perhaps he could find someone to help the kobolds (and perhaps get a drink while he was at it)
Stepping inside there was quite a din as all kinds of people conversed with each other, Gramlag caught the attention of a server and shouting over the noise he asked "two things lass, first I need a drink, something strong if you please, and second would you know if there are any wizards attending this event at the moment? there are a pair of kobolds outside that dont speak a lick of common and i think wizards typically know their tongue"
letting the lass go about these two tasks Gramlag found a seat to get his load off and removed his gear once again setting it on the floor, making sure to sit a good distance away from any of the haughtier looking nobles as their uppity nature leaves a bad taste in his mouth the way the tend to look down on the lower born
Narruk listens quietly, intently, letting Jek finish and pausing to ensure he was, before replying. "...the voices of the earth below beckon me to do so. Before aiding my human ward, I was in line to be tribal chief. My arcane powers dictated as much. But... they told me my task was elsewhere, and so I followed their instruction." Narruk reached back into his backpack, pulling out a pair of folded parchment pieces, before ushering Jek to follow along. "What little I understand, they say you need the charter papers to be allowed through. Come."
Approaching the guards quietly, he handed the papers up to one of them, who gave him a quizzical look before opening and perusing them. Narruk merely bowed his head, awaiting a response. "How in blazes did a little runt like you get a noble to vouch for ya?" the guard asked, before folding it back up and handing it back. "Yeah, you're clear to go on in... can't imagine you'll be staying long."
Narruk nodded quietly, before pointing a claw at Jek Jir. "He too?" the kobold asked, as the guard looked up and scowled at the black scaled reptilian. "You daft?! Just letting one of you little pests in is bad enough!" Narruk frowned, before replying calmly. "I weak. He strong. He guard of body. Please?"
The other guard piped up, rolling his eyes. "Let 'em in, Roth. S'not like two kobolds is gonna topple the place. 'sides, that little one has noble backing. Say he gets mad 'cuz we don't let his buddy in, and that gets back to his backers, which gets to our backers, and we're out of a job. Ya get me?" The other guard glowered back at the pair of lizards, before huffing and ushering them in. "Yeah, yeah, fine, get in there... and don't touch anything!"
Narruk bowed low, before waving Jek Jir after him and speaking once more in Draconic. "...the first law of a tribe: we must look out for one another. For our kin, this is exceptionally true. We are smaller, weaker, but together, we perform great tasks. Stay close, my friend."
Thank you good Narruk. He will show the guards his invitation, then tip his hats.
I have spent years learning many things. I must learn common. But I have been a farmer, a soldier, and most recently a bounty hunter. I seem to have gathered some attention. Most of my stuff comes from being a farmer though. While, I may seem all heartless, a lot. But Know If I make enough money I may set up a farm.
As for the tribe laws, they are amazing. Never thought of something like this. Closest I ever had was a contract.
The guard will look at Jek Jer. So yer the kobold bounty hunter we were told about. But since ye don't speak a lick of common, I just hope you can get the general gist of what I'm saying. Get in. Still unsure why the noble decided to invite you, instead of pay me.
Jek Jer looks up. Then says to Narruk. Ok, I understand one word in common. Pay. Only one I learned.
Bastard, bastard, bastard. Yandasana Fethen was sent on behalf of her family to this gathering. Her stepmother was overjoyed at the sight of her leaving the household. She would rather have Yanda dead if possible, but this was as close as it was going to get. Brevoy called for great individuals to do something grand on behalf of the kingdom.
Her father kept her within the royal household as to look beyond honorable, but abused her constantly in closed doors, leaving her confused on whether her father actually loved her or not. She has a brutal scar on her left cheek from her biological father's recent drunken rage. Yet, her father funded her education, and much to her step mother's dismay, she inherited her father's highly analytic mind. She was closer in relation to her father than her step brothers and sisters.
She could not take the last name of her father because of her royal blood being tainted, nor did she gain status. Her father gave her a different name.
"If the kingdom asks for royal blood to participate in an expedition, why not sacrifice the bastard?"
But, she is not concerned with leaving. Hopefully this will serve a more permanent escapism from the dysfunctional family she belonged do. Reading helped ease the pain, but that would not quell the lingering of it. Besides, She would still uphold her honor to combat the adversity her status.
She has long black hair that covers her pointed ears. She has a slender, skinny physique of the average elf. Her face bears a more human-like appearance, similar to her father. The most admirable part of her face is her blue eyes. She has heard from some acquaintances that they sparkle in the dark. The least complimentary is her nose, which is rather pointed and oddly shaped in comparison to the rest of her face. Due to the frequency of beatings, her nose is actually crooked, lacking proper symmetry.
She bears the invitation in her hand, and shows the guard the invitation. "My father has sent me to answer the invitation's call."
Upon entering, she looks over the interior of the place.
Narruk quirked his fringes back at his black kin, unsure what excatly a contract was, but presumably, not nearly like the camaraderie tribes could comprehend. "Farmer? Admirable." Narruk replied, a very drooping, but evident smile curved onto his snout. "Then, you too can appreciate what the ground may offer. Perhaps even heard her children whisper?" Narruk clambered up the steps, through the door and into the entry room, following the gathering of prospective settlers. "I would hope our host is not too hasty. I wish to ascertain who we may trust and who we must exercise caution with."
Narruk found a corner near the doorway and raised his hand, slitted eyes closing as his toes, tail and fringes all twitched almost rhythmically, apparently listening to something. Finally, his hand lowered and his eyes opened, speaking quietly to Jek Jir. "The voices of the deepness... say nothing. It is hazy in here. But the earth tells me much still. The dwarf... he possesses no magic, but heart and spirit to compensate... The gnome speaks with a different force, though I cannot say what it is." His yellow eyes stare at Serafina for a moment before that limp smile stretches out again. "The tall one... she is nervous. I can feel her heart through the earth, and it moves quickly. But she also speaks with another force. I do not know which."
Narruk eyes the new arrival, the half-elf, as his gaze narrows on her, leaning towards Jek Jir. "...she is like us. Alone. Steadfast. Resilient. The voices praise her tenacity. Of all those here... we may find most favor with her."
It was a means to live at the time. I was 5. I had nothing else. A tribal Chief you say. That must have been interesting.
The Dwarf, the gnome. They seem nice enough. The Dwarf, well, Dwarfs are good warriors yes? The Gnome. There is something neat about him.
The newest. Do you think she speaks our tongue? Jek Jer will tip his hat to the Half-elf.
Jek Jer looks to Narruk. These folk seem strong. Stronger than I, I should admit. Though. If we find someone to translate as much as possible, mayhaps there is some money to make.
I happen to be a good shot with my bow. And have money to wager.
watching the door while he waits Gramlag notices that the kobolds managed to gain entry good, im glad they're in, seems they have invitations after all and a pair of little lizards can hardly be a nuisance
still watching the door the next entrant catches his eye, a half elf far as he can see, and the fact that she seems a tad uncomfortable among this pack of nobles and their ilk means she is likely to need some company that she isnt afraid will look down on her. time to make a friend perhaps
leaving his gear at his seat he makes his way over. "pardon my intrusion lass but you look like you dont know anyone here and could use a friendly face, me name be Gramlag would you care to have a seat with me while the details of this meeting pass at least? i know no one here and it seems neither do you" Gramlag says, tone a tad gruff to be heard over the conversations of the room motioning to where his gear is resting at a seat by kitchens
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Gird approached the guildhall, he pulls back the front of the fur lined cloak he had wrapped around him. He straightens his fine shirt printed with the Medvyed house crest (a black bear with black antlers above its head in front of a red field) and makes sure that it's magnificence is clearly visible.
Hopefully wearing this shirt will help lend intimidation and weight to my application to join the expedition
Gird approaches the guards holding his invitation in one hand and his fauchard in the other. He bounces up the steps and hands the invitation to a guard to be read.
"What a wonderful smell, a roast a warm hearth to sit by and maybe even some good ale... keep us safe while we enjoy this repast lads and hopefully they'll keep some back for you"
Gird enters and his tone becomes more serious, he strides over to the hearth and drinks in it's warmth, he takes a good look at the other candidates siezing each up in turn, he makes no effort to conceal his examinations.
Having gotten his ale, Morvan turned and surveyed the room. The dwarf had come in and appeared to be talking to a half-elf who had just come in the room. He saw a pair of women, each sitting at a different table. The kobolds had also gotten in, although how they got an invite was beyond him. Still, this expedition was looking to be interesting.
He moved closer to the group, but took a seat at a nearby table. He wanted to see if he could find out more by watching them. After all, actions spoke louder than words, and how these others acted would tell him more about their character than speaking to them - then he would know which of them would be valuable allies in the wilds.
Then he saw the Medyved enter, proud and bold. Well, well, well, looks like the invitations did go far. I wonder how skilled he will be on the road. Seeing him standing by the fire and begin observing the invitees, and chose to observe him right back. Let's see what he thinks of that.
A cloaked figure on horseback slowly comes to a stop in front of the guildhall, where the horse is tied to a post and left. The scythe is carefully placed in its holder, draping the weapon across his back with the blade in its protective case and tied securely shut.
A hand wrapped in cloth holds out the invitation for the guards to inspect after they stop Je'grik at the door.
"We already have a pair of 'bolds in there, so we aren't letting anyone hiding their face in. Show yer face, or you aren't getti- Ah!" The guard screams as Je'grik both pulls his hood back and the large serpent curled around his body, hidden by the cloak, shows itself.
"I received my invitation and wisssh to go insside. Allow me entry, or my friend will be... dissscontent." Je'grik hisses softly. He was let in, and he entered after replacing his hood, though Chumana remained in view as the nagaji found a seat and took it.
Gromar brightens up as others enter the room. "They are nobles, they will keep us waiting as long or as short a time as it pleases them to. I am content to sit and empty their liquor cabinet as long as they desire, as I am but a humble frontiersman with little coin, and am often stuck drinking just moonshine or something close enough to it."
The woman chuckles at the gnome's comment, nodding her agreement at the small man. "Too true, good sir. And what an opportunity to enjoy their excellent repast as we wait! Still, I admit my curiosity is getting the better of me."
As arrivals come in after her, she can't help but look at them, a habit she has not broken since childhood. She's always had trouble focusing, and tonight was no different. Still, she wasn't like some of these solemn strangers who came in and scowled at others as they waited. She actively smiled at any who met her glance, and offered a nod or a wave to those who looked friendly enough.
As her meal arrives, she digs in with relish, attempting to sip at the wine as she initially starts to eat. Her willpower quickly caves as the sweet taste lingers, and she quickly downs the glass as she devours the roast boar. She hadn't realized how much she needed a good meal! She grins at the gnome at her table, shrugging her shoulders as she attempts to flag down another server.
Gromar enjoys the people watching for a while, content with just a frequently refilled drink, until he starts getting bored, and reaching the bottom of his current cup, decides that something different is required. Making a fair bit of empty space on the table in front of him, he gets up on it, and proceeds to use the cleared space as a stage from whence he can properly tell some of the classics he had learned while growing up in his family's tavern and demonstrate to the Swordlords his qualifications while also using the performance as a measure of the perspective explorers by gauging reactions.
A small goblin is hauled up to the doors by his collar, his hands in shackles.
At the gate, his escort - a member of the City Watch - hands over a writ to the guards; it bears the seal of Cayden Cailean's priesthood.
"This one's going to be leaving town with the expedition. See that he does, because if we find him tomorrow morning, his head goes on the block. Oh, and I wouldn't advise removing the shackles; his kind's not to be trusted. At least he doesn't seem to have much in the way of teeth..."
The gate guard nods an acknowledgement and opens the double door. The Watchman carrying the small goblin by the collar steps back, and hurls the goblin through, before turning his back and walking away.
"OW! Why you got to hurt Snotboogie like that! I is a legitimate businessman! Snotboogie demands a trial! Snotboogie have rights! Is not like other goblins! AND WHAT YOU DONE WITH OMAR?!?! HE BETTER NOT BE HURT OR SNOTBOOGIE BURN YOU HOUSE DOWN!"
Snotboogie stands, and pats at the vials hanging from his waist. Nothing broken. That good. Wish they take these chains off though. Wrists hurt.
Snotboogie frowns and looks around the room, hoping to find someone that might know how to take them off of him.
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Gird gives a small snort of amusement when he sees the return stare of the young man... lithe and fit, sword accessible even though he is sitting .. proud bearing... swordlord... no not yet... like me... out to prove himself.
Gird nods his head in acknowledgement of the young man and then realises he's hungry, he takes a seat and when food and drink is brought to him, tucks in heartily.
Finishing her first flagon, the strong woman sitting alone in the hall brings the empty vessel down on the table before allowing a satisfied sigh.
"Thet was the best drink I've hed in many months! Fetch another!" She grins widely at another of the passing servants.
Much as the others are doing, she avails herself to the grand feast arrayed upon the various tables of the hall. Each time another occupant joins the room, she steals a long glance at the arrival, though seems content to hold her tongue for a time. The looks drawn seem to grow more bewildered by the moment, however. Eventually, as the chained goblin is escorted in, her mouth visibly hangs open for a moment.
She mutters to herself, "Did Restov really invite this lot? This don't seem like a gethering of heroes."
Morvan return's Gird's nod, then turns his attention to the other arrivals. The snake-man's entry caused him to raise his eyebrow, but he nearly spit takes when the goblin is chucked into the room, and as he coughed, he thought By the first blade, what in the Hells is a goblin doing here? He may be in chains, but they can't intend for him to be part of the expedtion, can they?
Hearing the woman at the next table's comment, Morvan leaned over and said, "I confess, I knew that many would be invited to join the expedition, but I cannot fathom why a goblin would be here. As to a gathering of heroes, well, the Sword Lords are sending expeditions to the Stolen Lands. While they may not yet be heroes, no doubt many hope to be before this has ended."
Faint amusement is shown as the goblin prisoner is thrown into the room with the rest of them. This look turns to puzzlement, however, as she analyzes the situation. If they were throwing a chained goblin in here with other 'heroes', that didn't say much about what the Swordlords thought of the rest of them. Then again, Serafina would rather remain in obscurity for now...there were too many people that might recognize her from one of her 'tales', but on the opposite side of the coin.
She notes the nearby gnome clear a spot on the table and step onto it. As he starts to speak, she rolls her eyes, setting an elbow on the table and leaning forward, cheek on her hand as boredom starts to claim her. So easily bored...no wonder she found so much trouble. Still, when she actually manages to listen to Gromar, she finds the stories he is telling are classics she remembers from her childhood, but with a bit of twisting and flair that actually added to the story, giving it a more adult (and therefore entertaining) theme.
She keeps her dark eyes on him for a while, sweeping her long black hair out of her eyes when it threatens to block her glance. She only breaks her gaze when her next serving arrives, but continues to listen as she eats and drinks, this time a bit more slowly, savoring the flavor. She hears the woman (Erimriel) compliment the spirits available at the gathering, and nods in agreement to no one in particular.
A bit of her attention lingers on the nobleman who enters, her look every bit as appraising as the man's. A sultry smile crosses her lips if he looks her way. Quit that! You're not supposed to draw attention to yourself, dolt! Instead, she turns to the gnome as he wraps up another short tale. "You are a gifted storyteller, sir."
Anyone speak my tongue. I may have some wagers. Come on folks. Lets have some fun. Jek Jer will flip a coin in the air and catch it.
When he looks at the goblin, he growls. Goblins. Had to hunt several. Please tell em he isn't as crazy as they are.
Jek Jer see the cloaked figure enter. Decides not to bother and look s around the room. Very interesting crowd He comments loudly.
Snotboogie wanders the room, looking carefully at the belts of the assembled 'heroes' for anything that might resemble a key or a lockpick. As he passes by the two Kobolds, he over hears one muttering about Goblins, and turns to respond, in what would be perfect, unaccented draconic, were it not for the complete mockery of grammar:
When he looks at the goblin, he growls. Goblins. Had to hunt several. Please tell em he isn't as crazy as they are..
Snotboogie not crazy! Snotboogie simply angry! How you like being thrown into a hall in chains! Snotboogie is chemist of the first order! You need chemicals, Snotboogie have them! You not happen to, err, have lock pick that Snotboogie can borrow? Guards forgot to take back chains. Snotboogie not need them!
Besides, it seem you not speak common. You help Snotboogie, Snotboogie help you! Be Interpreter! Snotboogie speak many tongues! Nice priests of drunk-god-man teach Snotboogie many things!
Anyone speak my tongue. I may have some wagers. Come on folks. Lets have some fun. Jek Jer will flip a coin in the air and catch it.
When he looks at the goblin, he growls. Goblins. Had to hunt several. Please tell em he isn't as crazy as they are.
Jek Jer see the cloaked figure enter. Decides not to bother and look s around the room. Very interesting crowd He comments loudly.
"Still vile creaturesss." Je'grik responds in Draconic, looking at the Kobold. "They've caused more forest fires than I care to think about." He last aya still as Chumana slithers out from under the cloak and wraps loose.y around his neck, bowing slightly from the weight. She was no small serpent, to be sure.
Hey! Snotboogie cause many fires, sure... but never in forest! Snotboogie barely ever been to forest! And every fire Snotboogie set, Snotboogie meant to! Deserved it they did! Or... well, at least Snotboogie paid well. Snotboogie assumes they deserved it if longshanks wanted to pay him that much to set fire...
Ederzand slowly climbs the stairs his mind racing at the possibility of joining the expedition to the savage lands. His stark white hair flows behind him as he nears the guards at the double doors. As he reaches them he bows his head and then raises it to look at the guards and hands one his papers that prove he belongs here.
I humbly submit my invitation and thank Sarenrae and the Swordlords for this opportunity. Ederzand smiles genuinely at the guards and his bright blue eyes shine as he does so.
He feels quite honored that the Temple elders have given him the chance to represent them on this mission and his desire to honor that trust almost over comes his own desires.
As the guards give him leave to enter, the tall silver skinned man strides through the double doors and looks at all the others that have been called. There are so many here and many of races he never thought would be here.
The Swordlords have taken their time to invite all these representatives in the hopes of finding just a few to accomplish their goals. Gaining entry to the group who will ultimately venture forth will be difficult.
Ederzand’s holy symbol of the Dawnflower is clearly visable upon his chest and he looks around to see if other clerics of Sarenrae believers are among those in attendance. He walks in looking for a place to stand or sit whichever is appropriate while at the same time he continues to look at the others and listening for any conversations he can pick up on. He feels somewhat silly wearing his shining unscratched chainmail, but the elders told him that he should. His Scimitar at his side did feel right and he kept his hand close by it for no other reason than his hand needed a place to be.
Hearing the woman at the next table's comment, Morvan leaned over and said, "I confess, I knew that many would be invited to join the expedition, but I cannot fathom why a goblin would be here. As to a gathering of heroes, well, the Sword Lords are sending expeditions to the Stolen Lands. While they may not yet be heroes, no doubt many hope to be before this has ended."
The brawny woman scoffs as Morvan finishes his response. She lowers a chunk of black bread back down to her plate and gestures to the room at large with the greasy cut of pork that remains gripped between the fingers of her right hand. Her melodious voice does not match her appearance or dialect very well, as she responds, "More likely they end up drowned in a river, crushed by a wegon, or butchered by brigands. I hope they cen make megic — they don't look like they hev lifted anything but books in their life. "
"I hev heard many tales of the Eldori Swordlords. Everyone says they are the best blades in the lend; thet they are strong and graceful. I hed expected such men to be the first to enswer the call of their own, but this? Goblins, scales, and underfolk. I em waiting for the princess end the dregon to stroll in et any moment, ha!" Dropping the food that remained in her right hand, Erimriel wipes her hand clean on her cloak before extending it across the table to shake hands. "I em Erimriel -- come to become a hero myself!"
Shaking hands with Erimriel - and managing to hide his astonishment at the strength of her grip - Morvan said, "A pleasure to meet you. I am Morvan Fellis. I have spent the past dozen years training with my uncle in preparation for my entry into the ranks of the Swordlords, and he has said I am all but ready. He wishes me to acquire some experience and see a bit of the world before he puts me forward for induction - and this expedition is the perfect opportunity to do so." Leaning back in his chair, he took a piece of bread off a passing server's tray and bit into it, then took a swig of his ale. As he did so, he surreptitiously studied her. She's no dainty, pampered noblewoman. Her manner and her form suggest a proclivity towards standing toe-to-toe with anyone who offends her. Whoever crosses her may well regret it come the next dawn.
Lowering his ale, he said, "As to your comment about the Swordlords answering their own call, they will come when they are ready. In Restov, the Swordlords rule, and everyone else awaits their pleasure."
Ederzand moves over to where a man and woman are talking. The woman looks very strong and her eyes lend to being an Aasimar, or at least Ederzand believes so and now wishes to know if he is correct. As he moves towards Erimriel and Morvan he passes the two kobalds and Nagaji and flashes a smile at them as he passes and speaks to them in Draconic
Without stopping he continues to stride over to Erimriel and Morvan and stands straight up his long silver hair flowing down his back and over his shield.
Good evening M’lady and good sir. I am Ederzand. It seems that there is quite a range of invitees here do either of you know how the final selections will be made?
Ederzand smiles warmly at them both hoping to break the ice and gain friendly relations with these two.
The silver man stood out in the crowd, and Morvan easily noticed his approach. A holy man of some kind, going by that symbol. The presence of one of them and their healing magic will likely be especially helpful in the wilds. Although the way his hand hovers near his sword, I suspect he may have more teeth than he shows.
Returning Ederzand's smile, he said, "Well met, Ederzand. I am Morvan Fellis. There are quite a few invitees here - the Swordlords have cast their net wide and far. I believe the final selections will likely be based on their evaluations of our character and possibly skill level. They are not set up for a tourney of any kind, though, so it may be you will have to tell them of your abilities."
He did not introduce Erimriel, as his read of her gives him the impression she wouldn't appreciate it.
The cloaked Nagaji glares at the man as he passes and says something in that strange language.
I didn't say he was crazy, but I have fought a few goblins. And Snake man, Nagaji I believe. You are not so bad. Better than most. And what do you mean by little dragon? I am a kobold. I don't get why others of my kind insist they are Dragons.
Chuckling Ederzand looks at the Nagaji
What makes you think my skin is soft. And I look no more human than you do. No it is that you would use your prejudice against him and call him vile when I am sure the same has been done to you. That is why I said what I did.
Keeping his smile bright he politely nods at the Nagaji.
Turning to Morvan
Oh do you think it will be that way. I have trained much at the temple but have not ventured far from there. I spent a lot of time learning to forge weapons though I know only how to use a few. The art is both rewarding and relaxing. But the chance to do this is very exciting and I hope that I am found worthy.
Snotboggie, I have no lock pick.
Pausing a moment to consider the strange, silver man before her, Erimriel shrugs before leaning forward and resting her forearms on top of the table. She finishes off her food, takes a large swig from her refilled flagon, and burps loudly.
"The Stolen Lends are a big place. Too big for just a few to range, I think. I assume they will send all of us. I don't think they'd bring us all here just to send most of us home. I hope not. What kind of prick would waste everyone's time like thet?" Erimriel scans the room for any sign of their hosts. The thought of not being sent on the expedition hadn't occurred to her. After all, Garlynde had vouched for her, and she knew herself strong and capable enough for the task. Restov is turning out to be a stranger place than she anticipated. Her brow furrows slightly as she contemplates the dark drink in her hands.
As she awaits a response from the gnome, her attention drifts to the story-teller's other admirer. Hmmmmmm... A scion of House Medvyed, well-groomed, with a powerful physique. The face was a little bland, but she could certainly overlook that. She takes another bite of her roast, wiping at the corner of her ruby lips before smiling up at the man.
"You have excellent taste, good sir! Tell me, what do you think of all this?" She extends her arm around in a slow wave, indicating the crowded mass of humanity in the structure. Remembering herself, she adds belatedly, "My lord." Her lips curl up mischievously, trying to play off her slip as flirting.