The sun is just beginning to set, casting long rays of red light onto the stained bar on the north wall of the tavern. The sign out front names it the Freckled Lass, but regulars call it the Poxy Doxie.
The bartender, One-Eye, squints through his right eye, then the left, before filling the tankards of two dwarves on one end of the bar. A group of Rhennee barge-men fill a table in one corner, with perhaps half a dozen other patrons scattered at other tables throughout the room. It's early, yet, but the place will likely fill up within the hour.
What little talk there is seems to center on the massacre at Pregmere four days ago. Lord Colwyn, one of the surviving Gyri arglwyths (a noble title from old Geoff equivalent to a baron) ignored the warnings of Hochoch's ruling council and led a force of three dozen Loyalist knights and a hundred mercenary footmen to try to retake the town, on the western edge of the Oytwood. Ambushed by a mixed force of giants, orcs and ogres, they were slaughtered almost to a man. The handful of survivors have been trickling in the past two days, telling tales of the fire giant warlord who tore Colwyn's head off with his gauntleted hands.
The debacle has provided fodder for the more conservative factions of the council, dashing the hopes of the Loyalists and Knights of the Dispatch lobbying for a more aggressive strategy. Any further military action is unlikely until spring, but the political maneuvering is only just getting started.
You wonder if the recent defeat has anything to do with the note you received summoning you to the tavern. Someone has work and believes you well-suited to it. The note said your contact would wear a green sash, but you've no other clues. You came early, to watch the crowd, but your meeting isn't for almost two hours. Might as well order a drink and settle in ...
Eldramin wanders in, finding himself a seat at a booth near the bar. As he prepares to sit, he unslings his crossbow and places it on the seat, unstrung and unloaded, before placing his shield on top of it. He pulls out a book from his satchel while waiting for someone to come take his order.
After the serving girl takes his order, he turns his attention back to the book, occasionally glancing up as a new patron enters. His hair is long, straight, and dark brown with burgeoning streaks of grey. He wears normal clothing and scale male, judging by his armor and weapons he looks to be a city guard or relatively well-off mercenary. He wears a pendant around his neck that looks out of place, however, as it bears a resemblance to a withered human hand, with clawed fingertips, though it is sculpted from black stone.
Wandering into the tavern, Alistair first scans the room to see if the person in the green sash has already arrived, but not locating them, he takes a seat at the rear of the room, keeping his back to the wall and his eyes on everyone else!
Kierdan enters the Freckled Lass and heads over to the bar, motioning to the barkeeper.
One-Eye, a pint of ale, something decent!, he calls out.
Ordinarily, this would be his favorite time of day, a pint or two and a bowl of hearty stew and possibly a story from the dwarves, bargemen or some other travelers. The news for the last several days, though, was all bad. Everyone knew of the failed expedition to Pregmere. Kierdan had known many of the men in that doomed column. But it was more than that, he remembered the town from the old days. It was less than a day's ride from his home village and he had been there several times with his father.
Kierdan shook himself out of his gloom. He had to focus on the here and now. He still wore his chainmail and carried his mace. His sun-faced holy symbol of Pelor hung on a chain around his neck. He had received an intriguing note that hinted at work that suited him. He was to meet someone wearing a green sash. So far, he could see no one matching that description, so Kierdan settles in and takes a drink.
A great towering figure of a man, with wide shoulders, thick neck and heavily muscled arms bellies up to the bar next to the man in chainmail.
Oi... and one for me too.
He turns to Kierdan.
Are you one of the men returning in from the battle? You're still armoured up.
The man slaps a heavily callused hand on the bar.
I'd like to buy you a drink if you can tell us about the battle. I'm Dragomir. Normally I don't drink here but I'm after news and I've a meeting with some fellow here later tonight. He's gonna be in a green sash. You see anyone like that here or at the battle?.
Already seated off to one side of the room, near an exit door, Lady Koralyn Nightstar sipped a glass of watered wine, careful not to mar her disguise. She both felt is necessary and a bother to wear a physical disguise on top of the spell that hid her unique elven heritage. Better safe than sorry. She held up a silver plate to view her visage like any lady might check their make-up as she dabbed a corner of her mouth. The face that reflected back at her was still foreign to her even though she had worn it for nearly a month now. She tried to retain what she could of her real face, making the disguise more believable. What peered back at her was a half elven face with sandy blond hair pulled up in a scholarly bun. Her face was thin but much fuller than her real elven bone structure would have supported. And her eyes were a more normal color of blue. She was cute she decided. Her sages robes masked much of her body and only her thin elegant elven hands might hint of her real heritage should the illusion fail.
She wore a sword at her belt and a bow leaned in the corner. But in these times neither should garner much attention. Both were well used and well cared for, but most weapons carried here would be the same. As she regarded herself she also kept watch on the room. She was quite early and had already finished a light meal, but she wanted her choice of tables for this meeting, and she had gotten it.
As people began to filter in Lady Koralyn watched. She noted a few who were obviously not soldiers but had the look of adventures about them. And she was not unhappy about what she saw. Most looked seasoned. Not a green one in the lot so far. But neither were there any other women. This might work to her advantage she knew. One particular caught her attention. He had the look of a scholar, or maybe a merchant about him but he carried what looked to be a formidable staff. Had she seen him somewhere before? He was also a careful type; taking a table in the back. He actually looked more cautious than her and she could not help but wonder if he knew of a reason to be so.
Eldramin sits, seemingly looking at his book but in reality, listening in to the tavern tales being told nearer the bar.
Kierdan regards the giant of a man next to him at the bar.
No. my friend, I am no soldier, he says as he indicates the holy symbol around his neck. I am but a simple priest of Pelor, may his radiance light our path. I still wear my armor because I too am supposed to meet someone here this evening
After looking at Dragomir a few moments more, he adds, I believe I recognize you. I remember seeing you at the Streamview. In any case, I am Kierdan. It is good to meet you. If you are still offering to buy a round, I am offering to buy the next one!
Done Good Priest. I will cover this round.
Dragomir looks Kieran up and down. Glad you remember me and even gladder I don't remember you... I mainly remember the trouble makers. You xpecting trouble wth this meet of yours? You're certainly dressed for trouble. If that's the case I'd be happy to watch your back against any who would make it an unfair fight.
Koralyn quietly notes the two men at the bar. Her keen hearing picks up that one is a priest and the other a large man that could easily be a warrior. A green slash was mentioned and she allows herself a half smile. She risks another glance at the lone man in merchant's garb trying to discern if he too is watching the pair at the bar.
With an insight she gets the attention of a serving girl and with a coin gives the girl a message to deliver. Pleased with her generous tip the girl move expertly through the growing crowd avoiding a slap here and a pinch there as she moves. Addressing the two at the bar she speaks in a quite voice, making sure not to interrupt. Excuse me sirs. The lady there She points back to Koralyn alone at the large table. suggests that if you both are holding a certain letter and are expecting a caller within the hour, as she says she expects you are, that you would be most welcome to join her at her table.
Looking over at the table Koralyn sits, not looking at the bar but at a letter in front of her.
Keeping an eye on the entire room, waiting for this person in the green sash was slowly tiring Alistair out. He was not use to being in large crowds, and the noise and movement made him feel jumpy. And then there was the strange woman staring at him. What was that all about. He watched her talk to one of the waitresses and then the girl had gone to speak with the two armored figures at the bar. One wore the symbol of Pelor, and the other looks like a mercenary.
Keeping his eye on these 3, he swept the room once again, hoping the green-sashed on would be there...but no luck. His paranoia was beginning to get the better of him, so quietly so as not to attract attention he begins to cast a spell to detect any magical emanations. He takes his time crafting the dwemoer so as not to use his own power, but rather draw on the mana present around them all (Ritual Casting). Once he had aquired the energy, he let in slip into the matrix of the spell and directed it to the 30 feet around him, insuring he captured the young woman who kept looking at him.
Dragomir turns around to look at the table where the half-elf sits.
Who? That girl there? Okay, great. Come along friend priest.
He makes his way over to the table and plunks himself down.
Hi - I'm Dragomir, he says heartily. Pleased to be seated with you... you looking for the same guy we are?
Koralyn looks up as Dragomir speaks. Her letter is places so that he could not miss it. Well met Dragomir. she responds and offers her hand without rising. [b]I am Koralyn, a scholar and student of the arcane. Yes, please be seated. As you can see I too have an invitation to this evenings discussion. But I fear that I know little else beyond what is in the letter. Is your friend going to join us?[ I thought that our host might like it if we gathered before he gets here to save him the trouble./b]
As Dragomir leaves the bar, Kierdan smiles at the serving girl and says, Thanks.
He makes his way to the mysterious lady's table, tankard in hand. After Dragomir introduces himself, the priest says, Good Evening, I am Kierdan. So, it appears we three all have a meeting soon. He glances around the common room. I wonder if there is anyone else? he thinks aloud, just enough for his new companions to hear over the din of the other patrons.
He turns back to the his new hostess. May I? he asks, indicating a chair.
Keeping an eye on the entire room, waiting for this person in the green sash was slowly tiring Alistair out. He was not use to being in large crowds, and the noise and movement made him feel jumpy. And then there was the strange woman staring at him. What was that all about. He watched her talk to one of the waitresses and then the girl had gone to speak with the two armored figures at the bar. One wore the symbol of Pelor, and the other looks like a mercenary.
Keeping his eye on these 3, he swept the room once again, hoping the green-sashed on would be there...but no luck. His paranoia was beginning to get the better of him, so quietly so as not to attract attention he begins to cast a spell to detect any magical emanations. He takes his time crafting the dwemoer so as not to use his own power, but rather draw on the mana present around them all (Ritual Casting). Once he had aquired the energy, he let in slip into the matrix of the spell and directed it to the 30 feet around him, insuring he captured the young woman who kept looking at him.
Alistair sits quietly, waiting for his contact to arrive. He watches the other customers and fidgets as he waits, feeling more and more anxious with each passing moment.
And well met to you Pelorite. Her tone is clear that she considers the term an honorific and there is no hint of it being a slight. You are welcome at my table. As I have told Dragomir, I am Koralyn, a scholar and student of the arcane. As to others... there is that one. she indicates Alistair in the back of the bar with a flash of her very blue eyes. He looks out of place and uneasy. I do not know for sure if he had a letter or not. But I am sure he waits for something. The only other patron sitting along is there, that man reading.
And well met to you Pelorite. Her tone is clear that she considers the term an honorific and there is no hint of it being a slight. You are welcome at my table. As I have told Dragomir, I am Koralyn, a scholar and student of the arcane. As to others... there is that one. she indicates Alistair in the back of the bar with a flash of her very blue eyes. He looks out of place and uneasy. I do not know for sure if he had a letter or not. But I am sure he waits for something. The only other patron sitting along is there, that man reading.
Books eh? Well they may be good for the likes of some but books din't do much for me. So a s-cho-lar is sort of a professional book reader? Right? Maybe that one over there is also a s-cho-lar too?
Seeing that the others he was eavesdropping on have begun to gather, Eldramin pulls the bookmark into the crease of his current place in the tome and closes it before restoring it to its place.
He stands up, walks over to the assembled group, then stands such that he can keep an eye on his table where his shield and crossbow remain while addressing this group.
"I couldn't help but overhear, but it appears that we are all awaiting the same individual. I wonder who our mutual acquaintance will be."
Koralyn bids the newcomer welcome in a similar manner as the others, introducing herself, Dragomir, and Kierdan and asking him for his name before offering him a chair. You are welcome at our table. It does seem we wait on the same caller. After Eldramin takes his seat, possibly after retrieving his belongings Korlayn wonders aloud. Four. Are we complete? Perhaps I should send a serving girl over to the merchanty looking fellow there to see if he should be part of our group. He looks quite put out. I rather feel for him.
"Hmm, I got no indication as to how many others there would be, I simply assumed there would be more." Eldramin says after retrieving his belongings and leaning them against the table leg so he can sit down.
"I am Eldramin. A bit of a field scholar, as it were."
Koralyn looks at newcomer appraisingly. Perhaps she is used to judging men. She says A scholar are you? You have more the look of a bard, or perhaps even a leader of men. I have found that few scholars are as comely as you. She manages this without a blush, speaking as if reciting plain fact.
After a moment of conversation she does send the serving girl over to Alistair with an offer. The girl, picking up on the state of the merchant approaches meekly and offers Good sir, the lady there, and her companions have offered to share a table with you if you are so inclined and also hold a letter similar to their own about a meeting to take place this very night.
Startled, Alistair looks the girl over then looks over to the growing party indicated.
Gathering his things, he walks over to the group.
"Who are you and how do you know me? I await someone and none of you match the description I was given. Speak up!"
He grips his hornwood staff tightly, waiting for a response. He seems more likely to leave than strike out, and while speaking to you, he keeps his voice in a low, well modulated tone, while his eyes continue to scan the members of the table, as well as those at the neighboring tables.
We do not know you, yet, my potential friend. But we know we four came here each alone to meet with a man wearing a green sash, each having received a letter to that effect. I overheard these two talking of the meeting and invited them over. And since you and this gentleman were also in the bar alone, the only others here alone I might point out, I took the initiative to gather together those who await our green sashed caller. So if you count yourself in one of our number then I invite you to join us and get acquainted. It seems our destinies have been intertwined. I am Koralyn, sage and student of the arcane, and I will allow my new friends to make their own introductions.
Dont be so angry about it - sit, have an ale and wait with us - we're all awaiting a man in a green sash - If that's you too then it's good that we take some time to know on another - your in no danger from us. I'm Dragomir.
Looking over the strange group Alistair seems to make up his mind, muttering quietly, "Even the Eye could not come up with this diverse a group"
"I am Alistair of Hornwood. A pleasure to meet you all. As you surmised, I too am waiting from the green-sashed individual, and I thank you for your courtesy."
He sits down, his back to the wall and his pack tucked under his chair.
To her comment, Eldramin replies, "Well, I suppose you have the right of it. More 'field' than 'scholar'. Of the two, I suppose scholarly pursuits are more of a hobby, as field pursuits are what keeps a roof over my head."
What is a field pursuit? You are looking chase down good farmland or something?
"No, just work in the field. That is to say, getting out of the library and going to hunt down what I want to know. Going to old ruins, seeing if there are any tomes or sigils or what-have-you"
Koralyn seems to pay a lot of attention to Eldramin's words. She nods as he speaks, obviously paying attention and maybe trying to read between the lines. So. She says. Why us? What common thread unites us to this mystery man's cause? We seem to be s diverse lot.
"Perhaps having made a name for ourselves... perhaps simply that we are not affiliated with whomever this mystery caller considers an enemy."
Could be something in that but if he has enemies then its likely he wants some muscle to put 'em off. No offense but what does he need you lot for? I mean the priest looks a crusty sort but... well... look at you. A couple of professional book readers who call ruins 'fields' and this lady here - thats a nice sword I admit you've got there miss but you don't really seem the type for hard violence.
"Far more things than swords can cut. A sentence on a piece of parchment can cut a land in two, a few cups of wine can cut a once-great man down to a mumbling beggar, the words of nobles and priests can cut men down in the streets."
Hmmmm, says Dragomir as he rubs at his stubbled jaw, There is something to what you say... especially about the wine. Ever had to escort a babbling drunkard off premises? Not my favourite job, and their puke? Less said about it the better.
Shifting the discussion to current politics Koralyn says I suspect this will have something to do with the massacre at Pregmere. Timing is too close to not be connected. Lord Colwyn was very brave in his action, but in hindsight it now appears foolish for him to have ignored the council's warning. Did you hear the rumor of how he died? The Dispatchers will miss that one. A true knight and one of the few Gyri arglwyths that remained.
"He was a fool", Alistair mutters to no one in particular.
"Men of conviction are needed to take action while the oppression of the overly-cautious keeps no one safe. The tragedy here is that his failed action only works to prove the council's point. But staying here forever will not win us our future."
"Running out and killing a hundred men is not so great a plan either. I agree, the council knows nothing, but there are forces at work...well..never mind. It was just a ill conceived plan and he should have known better...should have known better...hmmm..."
Alistair trails off, staring into nothingness as his thoughts take him down some rather disturbing roads.
"Men of conviction are needed to take action while the oppression of the overly-cautious keeps no one safe. The tragedy here is that his failed action only works to prove the council's point. But staying here forever will not win us our future."
Looks and brains. I think I like you Eldramin. Turning to the entire table she says I'll speak my mind here, few enough people do. The truth seems to be that the coucil is overly cautious while the lands of Geoff remain largely in the hands of giants and worse. This gives the Marchers and the Knights of the Watch reason to linger here, which the very much want to do. I'd see them back in The Gran March by mid summer if I had my way. The truth is that its easier to invite an army into your lands than it is to get them to leave. The proof is in the pudding and no one can say that Lord Colwyn's action was not foolish in hind sight. But 36 mounted heavy knights and 100 true men are a force worthy of respect. It should have gone better for them than it did I say. Koralyn lowers her voice for a moment and asks What if the enemy had advance word that they were coming?
"definitely a possibility, especially if there's someone to profit."
At the mention of the possibility of a spy, Alistair snaps out of his thoughts and looks over at Koralyn and Eldramin.
"Indeed, my thoughts exactly. There are more than Giants and their ilk that wander the lands. As you say, some outside forces would like nothing better than to see Geoff remain in the hands of the giants. But beware, you never know who is supporting whom. Keep your thoughts close and only let them out around trusted comrades!"
A small stir, and a few catcalls accompany a flushed and flustered woman as she makes a swift descent of the stairs. Doing her best to ignore the hooting of the barge-men she makes her way with what grace she can manage to the door and disappears outside.
A minute later a jauntily whistling Half-Elf with a fading hand print on his cheek descends the same stairs, offering the barge-men a bow as they take up their hollering again. As he straightens he pauses to cast his gaze around the room, and finding noone with a green sash heads to the bar to grab a tankard and carry it over to the barge-men who shift to make room for him. Soon they are laughing uproariously as he regales them with the tale of his recent exploit.
Dragomir laughs at the figure coming down the stairs. Ha! Seems his attentions weren't enjoyed as much as that fellow would have liked! She got him a good one by the looks of things. Lucky that lass wasn't my sister - she's got a left hook that will rattle your teeth... and thats when she's playing nice. She's a scratcher she is.
Koralyn seems less amused by Morten''s antics than the others in the bar and says nothing in acknowledgement. Those perceptive enough might notice a brief hint of irritation.
Alistair barely glances at the disturbance at the stairs, instead focusing he attention on several individuals gathered at a table across from the group.
A few minutes later the handsome Half-Elf is left alone at the table, nursing his ale as another sailor, a little better dressed and behaved comes in to round up the barge-men to ready for casting off. He bids them farewell and accepts their good-natured jibes as they head out the door.
The brunette man, dressed in fine clothes, carrying two swords at his hip, and a lyre atop his pack casts his gaze slowly around the bar. Eventually he seems to pick out the odd assortment of people quietly waiting and hefts his pack, carrying it over to the table. "Let me guess; you're all waiting for a man with a sash who's offered a job?" he asks, pulling a stool up to the table and taking a seat. His smile is particularly warm when he turns towards Koralyn.