GM Rednal's War of the Burning Sky (Inactive)

Game Master Rednal

"The Wizard takes off to take care of wizard business.", Farod tips his head in an overly dramatic farewell to Umbriak :"Just remember not to go out of your way to cause trouble in our house, we got no doors to slam yet-"
As for Farods own plans...well, there was a lonely Fey Girl that never knew more than her Burning Forest and was keen on seeing the world. Having some spare time in a safe place seemed like a wonderful chance to wine&dine her, get a chance to learn more about her as a person, and let her know more about the world in general. In other words, Farod would ask Tiljann out on, effectively, a date.

While the others headed out to their own diversions, Tchakar decided to make use of his time improving their shared home a bit. He started organizing the herbs and remedies that he had gathered earlier, then decided he ought to head into town to see if he could procure some hardware for things like shelves and perhaps a door or two. However, shortly after he left the house, he was surprised to find that the elemental spirit that inhabited his regenerated hand was exceptionally restless. As he walked it frequently jerked out to tap on the wall, or grasped at street lights when he tried to cross a street. After a while, Tchakar noticed that it was following a pattern, rather than the random twitches and jerks that he had grown used to. Eventually, his curiosity overcame his wariness, and Tchakar followed the urgent beckoning of his own hand.

Tiljann seemed rather receptive to the idea of a date - in part because she clearly didn't want to be alone in a non-fey settlement where she didn't know the people, the customs, or her way around. Personal like played into it too, however. Meanwhile, Tchakar had little difficulty finding basic hardware - most places were low on supplies, but frantic production meant they weren't quite out, and shelves weren't as in-demand as tents and tent furnishings.

Meanwhile, Umbriak had questions like...?

Sorry, going to summarise as I don't feel terribly Umbriaky today

Umbriak essentially tried to find out if his 'fellow' wizards might have the means and skills to help him break the enchantments he was sure were holding his friends in thrall to the wizard. Since he wasn't sure the church would help, and he wasn't sure more...drastic options were the right answer, he hoped they might have something that could give him a hand.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

Oh, Farod did remember he once had a girlfriend in Gate Pass...but even if she survived, chances were she was married to that minor noble by now - her father had seemed very insistent on the manner - of course not because Farod was an half-orc, he was no racist. No no no.
Anyway, that was the past. Right here, right now, there was a lovely girl about to have her first date in a community outside the one she grew up in. Farod made sure to be charming and chivalric towards Tiljann whenever and wherever possible, explaining to her that it was an expression of value for the persons company if she asks.
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22
If they are walking along some shops still open at evening, he'll attempt to aquire a Masterwork Guitar, and play some songs for her at a park, or some other piece of nature that can be found close to the city.
Perform(String): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27
But maybe there is also music elsewhere - many people dealt differently with situations like the affecting Seaquen now - some might pray to gods all day, others gathered stockpiles, yet others squandered their wealth on parties and celebrations. If there is music to be had, Farod will dance for a while with Tiljann.
Perform(Dance): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16
When they return home, eventually, he remembers, for a moment, the rumours about the promiscuity of first-worlders - but that was not what who she was. Instead, he explained, innocently, that if the date was satisfactory for the invited part, on drop-off at home, a kiss was the universal sign of approval, and agreement to a follow-up date in the near future.
Of course, they lived together, which changed several parameters, but he was perfectly happy to take things at a slower pace - unless the rumors abou Fey proved to b ;)

Tchakar followed his hand's sporadic yanks, twists and pulls as best he could, resulting in a strange zig-zag path through streets, alleys, and at one point straight through a crowded restaurant only to be led out a back door and back down the street.

Eventually, Tchakar had had enough and began to fight the force animating his hand, when as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, leaving him confused at the intersection of two of the largest streets in the city.

Breaking a spell required a wizard of at least the third order, preferably the fourth - and while most of the casters in town were pretty occupied, you were fairly sure you might be able to convince one of them to help once you got to the school and had more access. Until then, the wartime footing meant that most services were less available than they'd usually be.

Meanwhile, Tiljann seemed more impressed by Farod's music than by his dancing - but seemed less familiar with mortal ways. For that matter, while she clearly enjoyed the time you'd spent together, she didn't seem quite ready for a relationship yet... leaving her home of decades and seeing the threat to her family and friends had put a bit of a damper on things. Of course, given time to adjust, that would almost definitely change...

Haha, I was tired when I wrote that. Not pushing her in the slightest - what I meant was that he basically wants a sign of whether she is open to continued dating(with the potential(but not the certainty) for a future relationship), or would rather have it as a singular event - that drop-off kiss can be a friendly peck on the cheek as well. And hey, that dancing was not to impress her(that was the music) - dancing was for having fun! Them being so bound to music and song so long, I guessed she'd certainly like to try out new ways to move to foreign music! Just being a good sport there, rather than the guy sitting at the bar sipping a beer while the girl is alone at the Dancefloor-

Umbriak thanked them for there time and returned to town, stopping off at an armourer to get the suit of Full Plate he'd taken rezised for his bulky, squat frame. He didn't like the idea of waiting until they went to the school, and if things didn't go as he'd hoped he would have to take more active measures.

Unsure what had drawn him there, and with no more clues, Tchakar picked his way back through the multitude of streets that would bring him to their newly constructed home. Tomorrow was sure to be a busy day with the wizards, so it was probably best to get lots of rest that night.

With your meeting over and done with, it wasn't long before you were back home, and the place looked somewhat more elaborate than before. The walls appeared to be a bit thinner, but had apparently lost material to create more in the way of shelving and other storage. With, honestly, sturdier defenses than most of the town, you had an uneventful night. The morning dawned gray and gloomy - the rain was, if anything, worse than before, and it was definitely muting the fun a bit. Still, you had a meeting - and enough time for any last-minute preparations, such as deciding what you wanted to tell the Lyceum once you got inside.

Umbriak made some breakfast, as was tradition at this point.

Craft (Food): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19

It wasn't bad, and taking a toasted cheese and bacon sandwhich with him while he left the rest of the food for others, the berserker went to check on the armour and see if the alterations were done yet.

"Haddin, I'm impressed. To be honest, I think my opinions of you may have been colored by our unfortunate circumstances since we've first met. If you don't mind my asking, what did you do before the Ragesians decided to ruin everything?"

Not having any particular plans, and opting to evade another confrontation, Farod stays away from Haddim and Krystin, enjoying Umbriaks breakfast alone in one of the smaller rooms.
If Tiljann or Torrent are around, he'll casually chat with them, wondering what the Meeting with the Lyceum would result in.

There was little he needed to do in terms of preparation - he expected their contact to be level-headed and intelligent, and intended to be straightforward about their abilities, intent, and motives.

"I lived well away from Gate Pass." the old wizard said bluntly. "Right mess of a place, whatever airs it likes to put on. Rioters killed my brother about twenty years ago, so I decided it was time to take my family and leave. Been living by the forest ever since, until all this sh*t with the f*cking Rags. Think it's their f*cking right to tell everyone else how to live and gut anyone who disagrees. Mark my words, they're gonna fall in the end. Might be some folk who fancy themselves heroes, might be an army from somewhere else, might even be some kind of f*cking devil offering power to someone they pissed off enough, but they are going to fall. Groups like that always do."

Umbriak was sadly not there and continued to the blacksmith for his armour.

Farod was busy training the Song of Forms with Tiljann - his singing voice definitely needed work, but it was a simple and exquisite pleasure to listen to her sing it.

"I"m sorry about your brother. And I certainly hope you're right about someone or something stopping the attacks. Just about all of use here are on their list to be purged, whether by choice or not. Have you ever been to this city before?"

"Hah, no. Never did like sea travel much, and I wasn't gonna go through the forest all on my own. No need." the wizard said, shaking his head. "But I like the school, at least. You need a proper education if you're going to be a wizard, and private tutors don't cut it."

Umbriak continued to the blacksmith.

Farod continued his singing lessons with Tiljann.

"I've always had a deep respect for wizards. Well, maybe not always. But I learned respect the hard way for both their dedication to their craft and the resulting power they gain from that dedication. It's not really for me though. And though I manage to wield some magic myself now, I really don't understand it at all, though I do try to practice it regularly and learn what I can."

Umbriak finally arrived at the blacksmith's place - a journey of some minutes, given the lack of truly rapid transportation through the rapidly-growing city - and found that the alterations were about 90% done. The rest required him to actually put it on and let the armorer adjust it manually, since some things you couldn't get perfect on a mere model. (Although, on the other hand, Umbriak was certainly a model of dwarvishness...)

Meanwhile, Farod's singing lessons continued, and it was slowly becoming clear that Tiljann, while a capable singer, was an expert in one specific song. ...In fairness, it had been most of what she'd sung over the last few decades, but even now you could feel the lingering power of the Song of Forms. No mere tune, it held genuine power for those who sang it right.

As for Tchakar...

"If magic could be understood so easily, everyone would be a master." the grumpy old wizard said. "There's a reason the best and brightest spend a whole lifetime studying just a small facet of it. Most anyone can use a cantrip if they work hard enough, but learning a spell isn't the same as mastering it, and mastering it isn't the same as understanding it."

Farod continues to train singing the Song of Forms.
If that was what Tiljann did best...it would be what he would focus on. The song had power, a raw emanation of mystical power...not completely unlike the spontaneous magic that he wielded. Studying it and learning it more in-depth might be beneficial to him in some ways...

Cheerfully undressing, Umbriak stood to get the final measurements done.

Tchakar considered his words before replying, "That makes a lot of sense. I'm not so foolish as to believe that I'm anywhere near mastering what I can manage, much less magic in a more general sense. Fortunately, there's no shortage of people much more knowledgeable on that subject here, between you and the various wizards of the academy. I'm glad we have your expertise with us."

A little bit of magic flickered on the end of Farod's tongue as he practiced the song, but it didn't coalesce into anything more. Tiljann, for her part, just nodded encouragingly. <"It is mundane for most, but if you know how to weave magic into song, the tune becomes much more, capable of giving form to the formless."> she explained. (To learn the full song of forms, you must possess the Bardic Performance ability or a similar power. You know the song well enough to immediately gain access to its full strength if you find a way to do so.)

Umbriak, for his part, finally had his armor ready and adjusted. It fit quite well... arguably a little too well, because it didn't clank quite as menacingly as it probably could have.

As for Tchakar and Haddin, "Of course you are. Only idiots like the Rags aren't happy when they've got a Wizard." Haddin said. He was... probably pleased? Given his general abrasiveness, it was a bit hard to tell, but he clearly felt Wizards in general were better and more important than most people.

Yeah, not really...neither Sorcerer nor Paladin lend themselves to multiclassing particulary well - but good to know!
<"It is not mundane when you sing it.">, he compliments her, <"That...creature, and it's story. This song. Your kind. There are wonders in this world we can hardly hope to comprehend. Still we try, because it is in our nature. And in that pursuit, with that passion, so much was and will be created. I am thankful and glad you help me out to better understand and learn it.">
So, what effect DOES it have? Because, you know, casters are doing some independent spell research as well. Maybe it could be duplicated as a spell effect with Vocal components and concentration+x based duration? - considering a bardic performance is essentially free to maintain that seems fair, and could give us access if it would be helpful to have again at a later time. Plus it might impress Tiljann.

Well, clanking in an intimidating manner was nice, but Umbriak could usually managed to be intimidating all on his own. After thanking and paying the smith for his work he moved outside, stretching, and set off walking. He headed home, still wearing the armour so as to get used to its weight

Tchakar nodded, then left Haddin to whatever a wizard did in his idle time. After heading outside, the tengu found a seat and waited for his companions to return from their morning errands so that they could set off to the Lyceum together.

Note that there might be items or feats or something that could get it to work. XD If you're interested in looking and find something, feel free to send it my way.

With your talks and errands done, the three of you (plus Torrent) gathered together. The unending rain made it a rather less cheery moment than it could have been, but by this point, you were used to the weather and set off for the school.

The Lyceum compound is surrounded by a low stone wall, and consists of a half-dozen class buildings and dormitories on a hill near Seaquen’s north harbor. Most of the buildings are built of moss-coated gray stone, with wide covered walkways and broad fields filled with trees that droop with golden moss. The central tower — an eight-story, sixty-foot diameter pillar of weathered stone and thick windows called the Aurad Tower — is used for major events and contains the offices of the professors. However, it's well-known that all the professors have their own homes along the north shore, and typically live there rather than in the tower.

As you arrive, you see several students engaged in what look like one-on-one duels, though it's definitely more the work of students than soldiers-in-training. When you get to the gates, a pair of students use Prestidigitation to quickly dry you off. "Here for the council?" one of them asks.

"And a meeting with the Headmaster after." Torrent answered. The student nodded, and another gestured to lead up into the main tower, where you headed up to the fifth floor.

Inside, you see a dwarf setting a short stone rod made of veiny black stone on a table. "Stay within 20 feet." he grunted. "No danger as long as you're close." There are about a dozen other guests there, including Torrent's mentor Lee Sidoneth, who nods and waves slightly as he sees you. Finally, the Headmaster enters.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’ll pardon me if I’m brief. Our enemies are many, and we know their eyes are constantly watching. We don’t have much time for this meeting, so, even though I encourage each and every one of us to have our time to speak, I need to ask that we not get too bogged down in discussions of minutiae and other small things."

“We have a great task ahead of us — a task that we do not do simply to protect ourselves, but to save the lives of all our families, brother, and sisters. The new emperor of Ragesia, Leska, who proudly calls herself the Supreme Inquisitor, has set her armies to conquer all our nations. Everyone is in danger, from lowliest warrior to mightiest mage. I have vowed as my duty that I will fight against this Scourge from Ragesia, but I don’t know much about running a war."

“What I do know is that we all have knowledge and skills that will be valuable in this fight. I hope that you will trust me to lead this fight against tyranny, and I will trust you to give me your best wisdom and aid so that we may be victorious. Our goal is to stop the Scourge, to drive back the armies of the Ragesian Empire, to dethrone Leska, and to ensure our families and homelands are safe. Now, I hope you all have some idea how to do that. My ears are open."

You're still outsiders here, and while you'll have a chance to speak, there are quite a few others first...

Magistrate Lorb Votberd: The dwarven ex-pirate who now presides over the government of Seaquen is here to bring up a long list of grievances against the refugees, who he says are bringing chaos and crime to their town. He is in favor of recruiting able-bodied refugees to a new, broader police force to get things under control in a hurry. In particular, he wants to systematically bring in every refugee for questioning, so they can put into custody those who appear suspicious. On the matter of alliances with other nations, he is very leery of any arrangement that forces Seaquen to answer to another power.

Lee Sidoneth: Charged with maintaining the security of Seaquen’s harbor, he weighs in on naval affairs. He explains that the north harbor is so crowded that they’re sending new ships to the south harbor. Though there aren’t adequate docks for all the refugee ships, Lee thinks it best that most ships not be piered, so they can move quickly in case of an attack. His general stance is to wait and build strength, rather than rush to action. As he sits down he sneers at the ambassador from Ostalin, saying, “Some war-mongers might disagree with me, but they are motivated by the flow of gold into their coffers, not the safety of refugees or our city.”

Commander Xavious Foebane: A respected retired commander from Dassen, this aged dwarf wants Seaquen to forge alliances with any nation that is willing to stand against Ragesia. He has several ideas to take advantage of Seaquen’s substantial magical resources, such as lending spellcasters to military units of numerous nations. This both helps those armies outwit the Ragesians, and provides some protection against betrayal. He has identified military objectives best be handled by mobile experts, saving large forces for holding back enemy advances.

The most important mission, in his mind, is locating the Torch of the Burning Sky, and he believes Leska has already begun searching for it, which is why she has spread her armies so widely. He already has in mind a group that he trusts to accomplish the mission: he served with them in Dassen, and with the support of some of Lyceum’s mages they would be able to easily go anywhere and do anything to retrieve this most valuable weapon of war. All that remains is to contact Dassen’s King Steppengard.

Laurabec Adelsburg: Th eeagle-riding holy warrior speaks for longer than anyone else, and during her speech Magistrate Votberd grows slowly more irritable.

Laurabec is less concerned with broad military matters and more worried that the thousands of people who have come to Seaquen to make a difference in the war might tear themselves apart. It’s clear that Ragesia is partly to blame, she says, but just as many problems are the result of inadequate food, water, and shelter; bitter religious and cultural differences; a perception that Seaquen and Lyceum view the refugees as outsiders and pawns, rather than vital allies; and the clear fact that more than a few people are here looking for an opportunity to profit from the war.

Laurabec speaks unofficially on behalf of the refugees, and she requests that someone pay more heed to the local affairs, since it will take weeks anyway before any military actions can be coordinated. She starts to go into specifics, but Magistrate Votberd interrupts her.

Votberd thinks Laurabec is coddling potential hostiles, and is confident stricter laws will get things under control. The refugees, after all, have come to Seaquen, and should follow Seaquen’s rules. Simeon is more willing to listen to Votberd, whom he trusts from experience, saying he does not want to devote Lyceum’s students to helping the refugees when they could be training for war.

Giorgio: The flamboyant Wayfarer walks slowly around the table, thumping his staff on the floor with every stride, and he simmers with enthusiasm. He presents the Wayfarers’ knowledge about the dangers of teleportation, and says that they are working to find a solution. In hushed tones he hints at what amazing mobility the Wayfarers could provide them if the Cirque were willing to violate its long-standing neutrality. Th en, with a smile, he says that the guildmistress, Sheena Larkins, is willing to do just that, if Lyceum can prove it has a legitimate chance to defeat Ragesia.

Before sitting, Giorgio produces a ticket for each person present and gives the following bombastic speech:

“These are for a performance in three weeks of The Spectacular Trial of Toteth Topec, which you’ve no doubt heard will be premiering at the Wayfarers’ Theater in a few days. Though there will be other performances before the night of your tickets, the ageless beauty that is Guildmistress Larkins wants to be certain we have everything perfect before we show it to you, the city’s most respected citizens, and those dignitaries visiting from similarly respected nations. Think of the symbol it will be, for all you to attend a show together! I dare say it may be wholly disastrous to morale if even one of you fails to attend!”

Dassen Ambassador Keifer Numhaut" This tall, blond human says that King Steppengard is displeased that Seaquen’s rallying call has brought so many refugees through his lands, making his kingdom a target for Ragesia. While Dassen is not above lending its support if there is a legitimate reason, for now the King believes it wiser to make a pact of neutrality with Leska, and leave Seaquen to its own fate.

Simeon says he will talk to the ambassador in great length, and show him copious information that he believes makes it clear that Ragesia will accept no neutrality.

Sindaire Ambassador Cranston Snord: The aged gnome from Sindaire says that his nation’s people want to resist Ragesia, but the politicians cannot pledge their support to Seaquen and risk drawing Leska’s ire. He suggests that if Seaquen could defeat Ragesia in a notable battle, such a victory might be enough to make a difference.

As for the Torch of the Burning Sky, Cranston says that he is confident he knows where it is; it’s just impossible to reach. “The evening that the Old Dragon was slain,” he says, “a storm of fire opened up in the skies above the late emperor’s castle, a place called Korstull, a canyon in a broad field. Now everything there is dead, burned by months of searing rain. Sometimes the dead wander out of the storm. I don’t know how anyone could have gotten into that firestorm to retrieve the Torch, nor do I know how you would expect to either.”

Ostalin Ambassador Kazha Lonam: Slender, with sharpened black fingernails and voluminous robes that probably conceal weapons, the half-elf ambassador is sourly sarcastic. Her nation is only interested in lending its aid if it will profit them, but she presents their desires as generous. She says, with a self-important air:

"Khagan Onamdammin, our ruler, deeply regrets that his neighbors might be endangered by the Ragesian armies, but is willing to lend his elite, fierce armies if his neighbors are reasonable. Ragesia intends to conquer your entire nation. Would it not be reasonable to trade us one-third of your land, so that you may keep the rest from the greedy, cruel Ragesians?”

Umbriak watched and studied, each of the speakers. He kept his mouth shut for now, because he wasn't clear on the protocol - whether it was his turn to speak when he chose or if, as a guest, he needed to be called. He wasn't sure if they should mention the need to contact Clathan in Shahalesti, since it was now only he and Torrent who knew of that little bargain. Perhaps it would be enough to get help for Lycaeum, if they kept their word.

The information about the Torch was useful, and was a detail he filed away. He wasn't immune to fire, but he was resistant. With a little work he might be able to make it through a mere curtain of flame and get to it himself. Of course, the chances that there was nothing else defending it was thin...but it was the kernel of a plan.

The situation with the refugees was something they needed to take in hand, perhaps by them. He would rather keep them out of the fight, bar those who volunteer to fight. And to make sure there were not spies among them...

He wasn't sure about this Wayfarer performance but assumed it was some kind of trick.

And as for nations giving up their lands to Ostalin, he shook his head. It was short-sighted and stupid.

With all the bustle and bluster, Tchakar easily found himself falling into his old habit of nearly invisible observer. It was easier to find a mark if you kept your eyes open and drew little attention, and it turned out those same skills worked well when trying to take in a room full of people that think themselves the most important speakers in the room.

If anyone had noticed the unobtrusive tengu, they'd have noticed a slight nodding while Commander Foebane was speaking, obvious frowns at talks of isolationism, and as near a snarl as could be presented with a beaked face when the half-elf suggested carving up the nation prematurely.

At the mention of a firestorm surrounding the Torch, Tchakar shared a knowing look with his companions. A blazing inferno can turn out to be surprisingly survivable, if you had the right tools, or at least it can seem that way if everywhere else was more dangerous.

Farod had several ideas himself, while listening, but it seemed that only official speakers had a turn yet, emissarys and title-holders, in function or name.

Votberg and Adelsberg would probably be busy finding a middle-ground regarding all the refugees...but that was a matter for the administration, not why Farod and his allies had come here.

Lee's approach seemed strange...conserving strenght when you had a save place to withdraw to, and the potential for sudden and terrible strikes in the form of mages...to Farod it seemed more reasonable to harass the blockade fleet, cause damage to them with little risk to Seaquen - if there came a time to evacuate or naval battle, every enemy ship previously sunk or forced into a far-away drydock would change the odds in Seaquens favor.

Foebane seemed to favor an approach that would make best use of their capabilities, but his overall view seemed too...careless. Blind trust did not go well with intrigue, and unless a formal alliance was in place, the artifact if retrieved could well end up with Steppengard of Dassen, rather than in Seaquen.

Giogio, at first, seemed to offer a splendid opportunity. But his seeming insistence that all present should visit the theater simply screamed "Trap". Probably to be teleported to Ragesia, or worse...a promise of giving up neutrality said nothing about which side they would join, after all.

Numhaut could hopefully be convinced...and the same was true for Snord. An alliance with both could go a long way.

The offer of Ostalin was leaving Farod speechless. But then, there were a lot of aspects to consider...which lands were they after, would they settle for less, and what amount of forces would they bring to the battle - they demanded a very steep price, but each nation had their own economy, their own people, their own hinterlands - in some cases, it could be worth hearing them out.

Sense Motive Assist?: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13 Please someone roll good enough to confirm Giorgio is fishy...or not :P

Anyone wanna roll for Farod to assist?

In the midst of people’s discussions, the door to the classroom swings open. A human steps but is hurled back out of the room. The thrum of a telekinetic thrust shakes the room; the dwarf Kiernan's hands are raised from recent spellcasting. Simeon looks at Kiernan in shock and says, “That was Johund you just attacked.” Kiernan shrugs. “Just being safe,” he replies.

When the shaken Johund is brought into the room, he says frantically that a group of elves flew over the walls and are heading up the tower right now. There are seven, he says, and they carry the flag of Shahalesti, a revelation which raises another uproar in the room. Simeon calls for calm, saying the diplomats should meet their new guests politely, but that at the same time everyone should be ready for a fight. At that, he stands and leads everyone into the adjacent lecture hall just as the Shahalesti envoy enters on the far side.

All the elves are dressed in silver armor and blue cloaks, and stand tall and bright with straight blond hair and straight swords at their hips. Their leader is a pristinely beautiful elf woman whose eyes shine like sun on the bluest sea. Two men stand close to her like bodyguards, and one in the center holds a flag ceremoniously, while the rest of the elves watch warily.

The Shahaletsi leader sees the group pouring out of the classroom and says, “...I would have waited. I didn’t intend to frighten you.”

"Tis fine, you didnae." Umbriak replied as he wandered out after everyone else. The Dwarf was slightly perplexed as to why there seemed to be an entire Elven strike force here, but he wasn't frightened. They were too tall to be that dangerous.

Now that is the image evoked for those guys. Not because it matches the description, but in atmosphere/bearing/attitude.
Farod chuckles softly at Umbriaks comment, then nods, imitating the leaders' manner of speech without mockery:"We would have waited. Didn't intend to start without all participants - but it would seem you are surprise guests to this meeting."

As they hurried out, Tchakar came to the realization that there was a very real possibility that an attack could occur. This was a meeting of several important delegates that could oppose Ragesia, and if an attack did happen it could seriously disrupt any possible alliances.

Wary of the new visitors, Tchakar narrowed his eyes and found a corner of the room that he would be able to quickly move to escape or attack if the need arose.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

"And who are you, precisely?" Headmaster Simeon inquired. The elven woman curtsied slightly, with the sort of grace only attained by many years of practice... though her words were a bit more hesitant, with the occasional pause.

"I am Shalosha, daughter of the Shining Lord Shaaladel of Shahalesti. I come with an offer of safety and salvation for Seaquen and those who shelter here. As you know, Shahalesti is the shining jewel of civilization, and now we are attacked by the armies of Ragesia. For every loss we suffer, the progress of all nations suffers. We are the only power strong enough to drive back the fires of Ragesia, but even for our greatness, victory is not assured."

“My father, Lord Shaaladel, knows that some of the nations whose ambassadors stand in this very hall would prefer Shahalesti fall, but they don’t realize that in so doing they prefer their own doom. All here must admit that faith in the leaders of other nations is a difficult thing when the only gesture is a few diplomats sent to the banner of Seaquen."

“Shahalesti sends a fleet. Seventeen of our ships sail now to this peninsula, surrounding it from all directions to protect it from hostilities. By this we show our devotion to the fight, and — so my father believes — we prove that it is our nation who should lead that fight."

“We invite you to join with us in the war against Ragesia. Many potential allies have found their way to your city, and so we have come here to meet them. However, we will not risk betrayal on any scale, nor would it be wise for you to risk it. So we ask that you hand over control of Seaquen to the Shahalesti fleet, so that we may begin checking the purity of your allies’ spirit. Admiral Telshanth will serve as provisional governor of Seaquen—”

At this point, the Dassen ambassador begins shouting his nation’s refusal to hand over territory, and within moments the other ambassadors begin to clamor as well. The Shahalesti offer, it seems, has not gone over well.

Simeon calms the group down, then says that he can recognize a threat when he hears one, and that if Shahalesti wants to form an alliance, they can learn to share just like everyone else. He is not going to hand his town or his people over to anyone. Shalosha does not look surprised, but as she breaks from the script she has prepared she shows genuine concern. She says that the admiral has his orders, that the fleet will remain, and that Shahalesti will prevent travel by sea into or out of Seaquen. She will speak to her father and seek a compromise, but she says that such a thing cannot be accomplished quickly.

The other ambassadors demand the elves leave the building. In order to salvage what negotiations he can, Simeon concedes, asking Shalosha and her retinue to go - though there is enough time to talk to them (or anyone else here) if you wish to.

Umbriak rolled his eyes in annoyance. "How much worth is taken land when Ragesia takes all of it? Which it will. Nae squabbles there, nae divisions. One will, to rule the world under dragon flame. Nae one nation has the strength to fight them off alone, and like the red dragon of lore they'll gobble each morsel down, one by one, 'till all reside within yon belly." Irritated, the plate-clad berserker wasn't especially addressing anyone, but wasn't keeping his voice down either. He was tempted to headbutt someone to get his point across, but had other buisness.

Looking to the Elf, he moved over. "My name be Umbriak Embersworn, a citizen of the Gate. I made a wee deal with one of yours, and ask that ye contact Clathan in far Shahalesti. He should have information that might help - aye, and information owed to us. As promised by Shealis in Gate City, as it fell. I humbly ask, in sight of all here, that ye show both willingness to aid and honour of agreements made by sharing thus."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27

"That said, I cannot help but wonder how the lands of honored allies seem to be in high demand. I would have expected those with territorial ambitions to carve up Ragesia once it is beaten, claiming lands there as spoils of war. Instead it seems everybody is more interested in taking advantage of the need of others. Nevermind that that would weaken our alliance as a whole. The local leaders know their subordinates, know their home territory, know their troops and their capabilities, respect their superiors, are trained to work as a team...you would seek to hand command to someone new and foreign in the middle of a war? I implore you speak to whoever is necessary and urge them to reconsider.", Farod speaks, mainly to the Shahalesti Ambassador, but also glancing at the Ostalin Ambassador.
Diplomacy Aid Umbriak: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21

The tengu that had been quiet through all the proceedings finally ruffled his feathers and spoke up, "To be honest, the lot of you sound a whole lot less like potential allies, and more like buzzards, picking a man's bones clean before he's even had time to finish dying. You should be offering what you can bring to the fight, and then once you've got a list of all of your strengths, work together to form a plan to strike using those strengths. You face an enemy that would be happy to carve up all of your nations, and has shown little inclination to be satisfied with just a bit of land nearby. If you don't learn to work together quickly instead of trying to dominate one another, you'll end up just like the man, not the buzzards. Scraps, gobbled up." Tchakar punctuated the last statement with a audible snap of his beak, then shrugged as if he was trying to deflect the attention his words had earned him and leaned back against the wall again.

"Cla- how do you know about that?" the elven ambassador asked, clearly surprised by the question. As the others in the city looked at her, clearly curious about the topic, she coughed slightly. "Ahem. We are still in the process of deciphering that. It's written in an infernal language, and besides which heavily coded. It is of little use to anyone until we know what it actually says."

"Infernal is a tad tricky, true. But that as may be," Umbriak pressed, hoping for a certain advantage due to the public nature of the scene, "Ye will fulfil the word given to us, aye? When the translation and decoding is complete."

Farod watched, outwardly showing confidence and support for the Dwarf.
We really need to have a talk about what happened BEFORE we met...

Tchakar swivelled his head over to look at the burly dwarf, then turned back with a curt nod. He may not know what Umbriak was talking about, but the others didn't need to know that.

"Unlike some, Shahalesti honors its agreements." the elven ambassador said, looking around the rest of the room. "I'll have to verify your claim, of course - and as a gesture of goodwill, I'll ask a priest from a neutral temple to use truthtelling magic for that - but we will certainly share information if it won't hurt us to do so. We are all in this fight whether we like it or not, and while self-interest can be forgiven, too much is just foolishness."

Umbriak looked taken aback for a moment at the idea of being made to speak in a Zone of Truth, but nodded. "I have nae objection if you have none to speaking thus as well, of course. And ye can speak to the two I mentioned. They should confirm my words."

Tchakar leaned close to the dwarf and spoke softly, "I think you might need to fill me in on some things later when we get back home. I seem to have missed some important events before I met up with you folks."

"Ha, true enough - we should all head on over to a temple and continue these negotiations there, it would certainly make things a lot more interesting if politics and their driving goals had to be presented in a direct and truthful manner that makes evading facts difficult.", Farod was amused by the idea, but fully supported it.