.
After you are all contacted by Alvar, he asks you to wait a few days for the other applicants to head out. Finally, he gathers everybody into the pavilion. As you head inside, you hear the sounds of the outside world fade away. Inside, most of the space is taken up by an oilcloth draped over something huge. He also has a map of Cyre on an easel.
"Greetings, and thank you for helping me in this very personal mission. As I said, we are returning to my family's estate to recover bodies and personal effects. The estates are northeast of Eston." He will point it out on the map. "We will take the trade road to Starilaskur, then the lightning rail to Vathirond and then into the Mournland. Following the conductor stones from the lightning rail will get us to Eston, and then we head off from there."
He smiles at you, "I'm sure you all noticed that I said we. I will be coming along." He holds up his hands to ward off the coming interruptions. "Yes, I know that I do not have the survival skills that you folks have developed over the years. Fear not, you will not have to worry about my safety. Quay and I will ride in her wonderful Quaylish Apparatus!"
With that, the oilskin is lifted to show a mechanical device like a spider. Through the windows you can see the gnome inside. If two people are riding inside it will be quite cramped. It has two claws that seem strong, if a bit clumsy. He raises a finger and spins it in the air. Quay will begin furiously adjusting levers and the vehicle ponderously turns around. The back area, analogous to a spider's abdomen is covered with many locked doors of different sizes. He comes up to one of them and opens it up. From inside he will take some fresh apples and toss one to each of you. "This is how we will carry in provisions and carry out our cargo. Each of you will have a private compartment to store anything you might need." He opens up another compartment to show a space a yard square and two yards deep.
Opening up another compartment, he shows a glass case filled with a mass of iridescent color. "For healing I've acquired an unusual specimen. A living spell that has extraordinary healing powers. It does take a couple of unpleasant hours submerged in the mass, and it leaves it unable to do so for about a day, but it can heal quite severe injuries." By now it is obvious that the compartments are extradimensional.
"While I am coming along, I do not want to interfere with the decisions of those with more experience in such expeditions. I leave the day-to day operations to you, Any questions?"
"What in the name of---"
At least up until the reveal of the spider... thing, Gloria was impressed with her employer. Most other nobles that had hired her were snobby; they were too afraid to get their hands dirty themselves. Here was a man who was hiring help, not someone else to do the job.
That's not to say she was any less impressed after seeing the spider per se, just a bit more wary. The look on her face couldn't have came as a surprise to anyone who knew anything about her. This was just the sort of thing to stir her up: to confuse and concern her.
"Sir, it's not that I don't trust your contraption..."
It was definitely that she didn't trust his contraption.
"... but I'm a bit wary of stepping foot near that thing. You're going to have people get into it? Yourself included?"
As she finally steps near it and looks in, she grows a little more comfortable. Clearly still not liking it, she looks toward her expedition leader and nods.
"You'll hear nothing out of me, I'll just be ready if anything goes south. That's what you're paying me for, right?"
He nods at Gloria's comments, "It's a strange thing, but I trust Quay."
When Bertholdt speaks, he gets a little emotional, "I go because this is personal. To have the chance to find my family and lay them to rest. To answer questions, and see my home."[b] He pauses for a moment. [b]"I recognize your name. Your family had lands near mine, if I'm not mistaken. Hopefully we can find answers for you as well."
Time continues it's constant march, and Ry'klead finds his feet leading him to the large pavilion at the requested meeting time. The Half-Blood was glad that he was required to wait for too long. Staying in one place always made his feet itch. Not to mention things seemed to run fairly routinely in the town, making it sadly.., predicable. All things he had seen before in a hundred different towns and villages.
"Not that the predicable or the mundane is a bad thing mind you, just somewhat dull," the Half-Blood says aloud as he walks into the pavilion. Realizing that he had been talking out loud to Xor'Xic, Ry'klead looks at the group of eyes staring back at him.
"Lovey day," the unnaturally handsome man says to everyone with a slight bow and pleasant smile, revealing perfect teeth. The Half-Blood calming takes a seat, nodding to his employer.
Listening with full attention, Ry'klead's right eyebrow twitches towards his hairline at the mention that Alvar was to be joining them. He almost considering saying something, but, for the amount that he was paying, the Half-Blood wasn't concerned. For that amount of money, Alvar could pretty much go where ever he damn well pleases.
When Alvar pulls back the oilcloth, Ry'klead can see why the human doesn't seem particularly worried. The Half-Blood waves his gauntleted fingers at Madam Quay, nestled in the guts of this marvelous machine thing. He watches with an almost childlike delight as Alvar goes over the gnomes spider-toy. He munched on the apple that he had caught in with claws finger of his gauntlet. With a few cuts of his fingers, he had turned the apple into strips and snacks upon those.
Eyes lingering on the sight of the Living spell, Ry'klead cocks his head to the right, listening to something..
"Now there's something you don't see everyday," Ry'klead says with a grin
Eloith looks over the machine. I have heard of such contraptions, but never seen one myself. You must keep interesting company. And, I am dying to know how you captured that living spell.
As Ry'klead dissects the apple, Eloith begins to take mental notes regarding his companions. The suspicious one...maybe just jumpy...the Cyrian heading home...Thrill seeker, or maybe just work-weary, or seen-it-all...not sure about that one.
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Rolando listens patiently to the mornings revelations, glad that the waiting was over. He frowns a little at the contraption, wondering how much he should trust it. In his experience, Olladra blesses the prepared.
"Senor, how robust is this machine? If we are all trusting this machine it will be no good if it breaks. We are too far from repair facilities to fix it, and if we are totally relying on this, we will be in trouble."
He has quite the grin as he shows off his new toys. "The living spell I traded for. Quite expensive, but I value our survival more."
He turns to Rolando next, "Oh, it quite resilient. And should it take damage, Quay is quite adept at repair. Both mundane and magical. And if it falls, then we will walk home."
"Well..."
There was certainly an air of awkwardness about Gloria. It was clear to her that everyone around her knew more about everything happening in the moment than her. That made her uncomfortable, though she should probably be used to it by this point. Nonetheless, this was a social situation of which she'd generally not like to be a part.
"... what's say we get started, then?"
He nods, acknowledging the question into his motives, "I have been fortunate. Much of my family's wealth was in accounts with House Kundarak. Thus I was able to access it after the fall of Cyre. Since the war ended, I've invested in some profitable ventures. This has allowed me to fund this expedition. While some consider it a folly, I have considered the economic repercussions of this trip. The living spell is rare and will hold its value well. Maps and accounts of the current situation are also valuable. Finally, as Quay's patron, I hold an interest in her future creations. Having a design tested in the Mournland will trigger interest in her creations. I may not make a profit, but I expect that much of my costs can be recouped over time."
At the talk of money and Alvar attempting to play modest with his fortune, Ry'klead almost too pretty face splits as a smirk runs across his features. He had moved closer, peering into the Living Healing magics, watching the magic shift and boil. It was beautiful in it's shifting chaos. The Half-Blood wonders how "aware" it was, after all, the only other living spells he ever encounter where out to kill him.
Looking over his shoulder, Ry'klead can see most of the others where still talking about finances. Spying the warrior woman, who still looked rather uncomfortable by Quay spider machine, the Half-Blood waves her over , smiling like she was a friend that hadn't been seen in years.
Ry'klead remembers makes sure to use his flesh arm. Humans where so touchy about the getting a good look at his brother. Xor'Xic's mental chuckle lands in his thoughts. 'Well, you do sort of look like the shell of a big crab that I bolted some metal strips into,' Ry'klead thinks to his symbiont with a mental laugh. It's response was that the normal folk couldn't except how attractive the metal strips made it look. The Half-Blood could only smile, his green eyes twinkling with silent laughter.
Once the battle maiden inches a little closer, Ry'klead points at the Living Spell dancing withing it's containment.
"If you look a little closer, you can almost feel it looking back at you. Much more pleasant than a Fireball that's alive," the Half-Blood says, keeping his voice low enough to not intrude on the other conversation. "We haven't met yet, so I figured I would take care of my own introductions," the aberration's smile is a friendly one. "I am known as Ry'klead, and you are?"
He nods, "I know exactly how much that means. We leave tomorrow at dawn."[/b]
There's a little hesitation in Gloria's voice. Considering how bullheaded she generally is, this was getting off on an unusual foot with her new companions.
"Yes... feel it. I'm not certain I'm okay with the idea of any spell being alive."
She nods to the actually rather attractive man and does her best to compose herself and stand up straight. She wasn't trying to seem imposing, a task that would actually be pretty difficult for a woman the height of, at most, the average man. She wanted to leave a good impression on the rest of the group, however, and she was still just a teenage girl so she naturally felt like she had more to prove than she really did.
"The name's Gloria. I'm a witch-hunter, you could say. Magic isn't really my thing." She motioned toward the living spell. "Well, not in this sense anyway."
She was a bit less concerned with the conversation about money. She was ready to get started and her social skills were a bit on the lacking side, so she was a little beyond being rude. She didn't honestly care how or why this monstrosity came to be. She just figured she might have to put it down at some point, so she was keeping her eye out.
"So I'll leave all that... stuff to those whose thing it is."
"Witch-Hunting? Very impressive, no wonder you where chosen. You might not find a great deal of witches in the Mournlands, but I'm sure you'll find something to test you're blades," Ry'klead says cheerfully, as if they were talking about the weather. The Half-Blood turns to look at the Living Spell.
"Magic itself is just magic, it's the one holding on to that power you need to think about. But when it has no one to direct it, that's when things get interesting," Ry'klead grins over his shoulder.
The trip to Starilaskur goes without problems. The apparatus walks at the speed of a normal man. There's quite a crowd of interested parties as Quay maneuvers it onto a flatbed and secures it.
She looks him over suspiciously, but seems to accept that his curiosity doesn't have ulterior motives. She'll wave him in close to avoid people overhearing. "The control scheme is based on a proprietary set of levers, pedals and switches. It generally takes about a month to get trained in it, and another to get good at it. When there's one pilot, it can walk at a normal human walking speed. If two pilots are good at working together, that can be doubled. Climbing is possible, but slowly. The big problem is finding a surface that's strong enough to bear it's weight. As for what makes it go, that's a something I'm keeping secret for now. Let's just say it's not what you'd expect."
"Do-- no, no, no. Really, what's all this? I want to know more about these things before everyone is just like 'oh, we're bringing a super mysterious death machine controlled by I don't know and the soul of a witch' along with us. 'Hey, Gloria. I know you don't use witchcraft, but let's just have you play along, okay?'"
Gloria was getting a bit heated up until this point, but after seeing more than she felt comfortable seeing and everyone just finding it oh so necessary to leave Gloria in the dark about all of it.
Or maybe she was just being a bit sensitive. What would she care? This is sensitive subject matter. At this point she was probably standing a bit close to the gnome, though it'd be tough to tell if it was out of nervousness or any real attempt to make her tell Gloria more.
"Look, I can be reasonable. But with all this going on? You can't expect me to just giggle and talk about boys when you're keeping something like... like this from me. Maybe the others feel better about it, but they're witches. What do you expect?"
"No, it's just..."
There was a moment of hesitation as she begins responding to Rolando, but a moment later she continues.
"... it's a talk for another time. I don't hate witches in quite that sense. I don't trust their magic. I trust what I can touch and understand."
She looks down at her hand with its up facing palm. She then slowly closes it into a fist.
"And I'll never understand how some people can bend it in such... ways. I don't hunt all magic people, but you're all witches to me. And I'm safer for it."
"Warlocks," Ry'klead's pleasant sounding voice comes from a behind the others. The Half-Blood had been walking behind the others, watching and listening to his traveling companions. "Witches are all female, and since most of us are males we would be called Warlocks." the handsome humanoid is looking at something off in the distance as he speaks. He smiles pleasantly at Gloria when she turns to look his way. There is no sense that he is teasing her, just offering new information.
"Madam Quay, I stand in awe of your genius in building such a marvelous machine," Ry'klead smiles pleasantly at the gnome.
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Rolando turns to Berthold,
"Si, Senor. I served the Bell and Crown as skirmisher and scout. How did you serve, senor? I see you also wear the mustard with pride. We may have lost our homeland, but we have no lost our vigor, eh? How did you fare in the refugee camps senor? From your accent, I'd say your Northern Cyre, is that right? Like our benefactor? did he not say he knew of your family? It was a sad day on the day of mourning, no?."
Gloria shot a look at Ry'klead, her eyes narrowing briefly before closing her eyes and shaking her head. She looked down at her feat instead taking one step back from the group. She was always quick to anger but she had to remember to keep as calm as she can manage. Despite how confusing everything was, she was able to keep her cool. Instead of getting angry, she got a little awkward instead.
"I... yes, I know. It makes me feel better to group all of you. It gives me one idea to deal with."
She clenches a fist and squeezes at nothing, the muscles in her forearm became pronounced and rolled with her crushing grip - a testament to just how strong she really is.
"Just... don't mind me. Sometimes my superstitions get the better of me. I'm not as dumb as I sound most of the time. I swear it."
She put her fist to her side and looked back up at the others. She was having a moment of clarity compared to her normal acceptance of her delusions.
"I'll be just over here. I'll be along when it's time to go."
Gloria, unless otherwise interrupted, took a few steps away from the party, took a seat on the ground, and started observing the crowd until at least the machine was strapped to the flatbed.
These are just to give me a random element to how I keep roleplaying. You know, for fun. :P
For seeing how angry she gets.
To see how well she composes herself.
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"Wolf, eh. I saw much action escorting wolves into and out of enemy territory. Handy folks to have around. I will rest easier knowing you are on board, Senor. The Senorita looks like she is ready to bite someone's head off, I no know why she hate magic so much. It might be a good idea for someone else to learn how to control this contraption - you can never have too many drivers. That Ryk'lead person is a strange hombre, don't you think senor?"
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As Berthold begins to speak to Count Evaille, Rolando approaches Ry'klead.
"Senor, a word if I may? Why do you keep baiting the Senorita? It is not wise to discomfort those who you may need to rely on in combat. Also, I do not recognise your accent; may I ask where you are from, senor? where did you serve in the last war?"
Eloith watches the two veterans swap stories and units. Northern Cyre was beautiful. I loved Metrol from the day I rode in. The smell of the lightning rail, the sounds of the arena.... His sentences doesn't stop as much as it dies off.
He smiles, [b]"Between the living spell, goodberry wine, and your alchemical talents, I think we're well set up. But we should continue this conversation on board."
And he will lead the group onto the car next to the apparatus. It's well appointed, with sleeping compartments in one half and a parlor in the other.
"Yes?" Ry'klead had turned when Rolando asks to have a word, features already twisting to a pleasant smile. The Half-Blood turned to face one of his traveling companions. Other than a brief introduction at the pavilion, they hadn't the opportunity to chat, yet. "Baiting Gloria? That hadn't crossed my mind, I was just offering clarification. If I'm going to be traveling with someone who slays witches for a living, I rather her not think I'm when one I use my magics. Prying a blade out of ones skull is a bit time consuming." Ry'klead says with a laugh. Even the humanoid's laughter was pleasant to the ear.
The Half-Blood suddenly gives Rolando a conspirators wink and leans in closer, the copper flakes in his green eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth.
"If I was to bait her, it'd be nothing more than a few illusion spells, change the color of her hair for a an hour or so. What do you think, maybe mustard colored hair?" Ry'klead whisper is countered by his chuckling and the clawed tips of his rust colored gauntlet clicking together. "I only joke, don't look so sour."
"I worked in Cyre during the war as a liaison between a mercenary group and regular army. We solved problems, or created them as needed," Ry'klead says a moment or two later with a shrug of his shoulders, speaking rather than whispering. "And I tell you what, you identify my accent, or where I hale from, and I tell you all about it. We'll make it a bit of a game to keep it interesting. I'll give you two guesses" The Half-Blood holds up two armor clawed digits. "Take your time, after all, we still have a ways to travel." The humanoid who looks and sounds like he is from everywhere and nowhere laughs cheerfully once more. 'Who knows, I might even tell him the truth,' thinks Ry'klead with another chuckle.
Stepping away with a slight bow, Ry'klead makes a quick stop to a food vendor set up nearby. Selecting several spiced chucks of what looked to be bird meat of some type speared on a skewer. Paying, the aberration stops by a young street child selling less than stellar looking flowers. Purchasing one, he slides the urchin a gold piece and a wink as he leaves.
"A peace offering, since it seems my words where perceived to have venom, when they did not," Ryklead hands the warrior-woman the skewer of spicy bird and the simple flower. The items are in her hands, and the "metal" of his armor gauntlet brushes one of her hands. Gloria might notice that the gauntlet working it's way up Ry'klead's arm was warm to the touch. The Half-Blood had smiled and made his way to the cars, curious as to their insides before the war-maiden could respond.
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Rolando shrugs his shoulders at Ry'kleads suggestion of a game.
Everything is a game to this one, I think. Mercenary liason - but not mercenary. Don't think it was the Valenar, so I'm guessing it's one of the irregular units, goblinoids or something; but how did they come to trust him? Stranger and stranger.
He shrugs and turns his attention to Eloith d'Phiarlan.
"So, senor, why is a scion of the house of Phiarlan on this expedition? Is it true that House Phiarlan knew of the disaster? What does an artist or entertainer bring to this expedition."
Sitting near where the strange machine was being strapped onto the flat-bed, Gloria watched as the strange man waded into the crowded street. It wasn't long until he was completely concealed by all of the people. She shrugged and looked back down at the dirt where she'd been playing with some of the pebbles.
After a short time, he returned and handed some food and a flower. She was caught off guard by the gesture enough to be speechless for just a moment, just long enough for Ry'klead to wander off.
N-no one has ever given me a flower before... Why?
She wasn't sure if the gesture was sincere, if he was just trying to stop her from being angry with him, or if he was being some sort of sarcastic bully. She would usually be inherently distrustful of any magic person, but there was something about him. His charisma was calming.
She took a moment to eat the food and wipe what was left from her mouth. She then unwraps a leather strip from her right wrist and uses it to pull her long black hair into a high ponytail, revealing her leather and fur headband adorned with the fangs of various beasts. She slides the stem of the flower into the headband so that the pedals are now just behind her left ear. After doing this, she stands and follows Ry'klead to the cars, somewhat clumsily getting into one mostly for lack of knowing what to do.
"Well, fellas. You coming?"
Eloith ponders Rolando's question for a moment. He elects to give a mostly true answer, eliding some parts of the question.
"My family lost a great deal on the Day of Mourning. The Demesne of Shape was my home for decades. It was a place of beauty and art, with sculptures cast from steel and cut from stone that were so real they terrified guests. We also lost good people. I hope to recover some of the artifacts and see what's left of the people."
He pulls back his cloak to reveal the hilt of of a thin blade. As to my skills, I have my blade and my wits. I use one when the other fails. And, it never hurts to have a member of the aristocracy around -- sometimes doors open to those who know which fork to use with the second salad course."
[spoiler=Bertholdt]Ry'klead's accent is mostly cyran, but there are traces of something exotic. It's not any language you know and it doesn't seem to have anything in common with it. Since it's only traces, it will probably take some time to piece it together.
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"Not in the Mournland, Senor. Though I'm sure you'll do well enough." He turns as Gloria calls them,
"Ah, Senorita! It is good to see you again. I apologize for my boorish behaviour, sometimes I am too direct, a legacy of my soldiering days; but if I may ask, why is someone who is scared of magic seeking to join an expedition to a place so steeped in magic? it seems a little strange to me. You must have impressed Count Evaille somehow, yes? What skills do you possess?"
As she's finishing fitting herself aboard one of the vehicles, she overhears Rolando speak to her.
"Ah, 'señor' is it? You've misjudged me. I don't fear magic, I distrust... no, hate it."
Now with a smirk she continues.
"I'm excessively good at destroying my enemies. Especially magic ones. Controlling my anger, less so. I'd keep that in mind, my friend."
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"Ah, Senorita, I still no understand. You hate magic - yet you want to throw yourself into an environment steeped in the very worst kind of magic? This is strange, no? Most people avoid the things they hate, so what compels you to seek it out? I apologize for my forwardness, Senorita, but I am a soldier. I need to know how you will react when things go wrong."
"I'm a witch hunter. I destroy magic, I don't cower from it. Would you call yourself a game hunter if you were afraid of deer? No, you seek it out and you kill it. What better way to do that than go where it is?"
Gloria shakes her head as she speaks with a slightly less serious tone now.
Looking around at the parlor, Ry'klead grins over at the selection of wines and liquors. 'It's nice to travel with those with money,' he thinks. Glancing over labels, he selects a nice sipping whiskey and pours himself, Alvar and Quay a glass each. Handing the drinks off with his human appearing arm, Ry'klead salutes them with his own glass.
Taking his seat, the Half-Blood watches as his newest traveling get themselves situated. He takes a sip of whiskey and smiles contently.
He will lift the glass in a toast, "To the journey, and the safe return."