I rise as guests enter, then flinch slightly at being described as a hero.
Grim-faced, I nod cordially to the men, "Blessings of the Dawnflower be upon this conclave. I pray you are good men and true, as Satinder hopes."
Then I turn to Kalsgrim, awaiting his leadership.
I am a stony-faced elf of some vintage, clad in well-worn robes which still bear the colours of Sarenrae yet barely drape over a solid piece of armour. Even now an ornately detailed bow which glows and almst thrums with power leans against the table at my side. Flowing brown hair is kept from my eyes by an arnate circlet and a shining symbol of Sarenrae catches the eye o my chest: it is polished clean in stark contrast to the swamp-worn travelling gear.
Arriving to his morning repast to find the breakfast room replete more with men of experience than ladies of ill-repute Raveneau pauses for a moment before continuing his saunter to table. Sitting with his back to the wall, the elf unhitches his sword belt, placing the wooden scabbarded blade upon the table as he rests easy upon a chair. Calling to Satinder he beckons "Kahve and food... if I must while away my repast with the cold words of men rather than the light touch and susurrant purr of your harem then I would at least do it on a stomach blessed with contentment."
The elf is garbed in silk of green and blue, light enough to swirl and move as he does. His flaxen hair is controlled and pulled back from his face into a short queue that is kept restrained by a black velvet ribbon. His face has humor upon it and a puck-ish tinge sets his eyes towards bedevilment - but his sharp angular features are marred by duelling scars sustained from blade and stave. Below the light smile though are deep lines cut from years of severe expression is his past.
At the words of the Dawnflower's herald Raveneau shrugs and obfuscates "I would hold suspicion upon any man who claims to be good by words alone... and truth is pliable and inconstant in the hands of men. Though I return the Dawnflower's fiery gaze with the sighing kiss of the True Spark."
Merten is somewhat taken aback by the convergence of folk, all clearly capable of what they're about, and nobility no less. I would apologize for intruding, but clearly the proprietress of this place contrived for me to do so. I am Merten Falstaff, and this is my associate, Luca.
Merten is a stocky half-elf of middling height, with a well trimmed beard of sandy brown beginning to show the first signs of grey. His clothes are worn from travel, but of high quality, buff colored breeches and shirt under a richly embroidered tunic of red, gold and green. Numerous scrolls and pouches hang from his belt, and a traveler's pack hangs over his left shoulder. A miniature dragon with scintillating scales perches amiably on his shoulder, and regards you all with unblinking eyes, though it nods a toothy grin when Merten names it Luca.
May I ask a few questions before I agree to accompany you, Duke Lodovoka? Who are these hostages, and who holds them? Where are they held, and by what strength? Do you wish to avoid bloodshed in their rescue, or is their freedom of utmost importance?
I raise an eyebrow at Raveneau's words, "I too would be sceptical of those who clothe themselves in honeyed words. I merely hoped that Satinder's judgement was sound."
Then my features soften into half a smile, "But I salute anyone who praises Sarenrae's sisters."
I raise my mug in toast to Raveneau and take a sip.
When Merten speaks, I listen carefully and can't help but speak before Kalsgrim, "They are our folk, Frielanders, and under our protection. Yes, their freedom is of the utmost importance."
Then I bite my tongue, look to Kalsgrim once again, step over to the window and peer out.
Raveneau returns Malaswyn's raised eyebrow with a smirk, but sees better than to quip on the wisdom of trusting a purveyer of whores. He also catches the glance to the Ulfen man... and catching words upon his tongue he waits to see what he may speak before elucidating his position further.
"We don't know where they're held. That's what we need to find out. And if there's bloodshed, it'll be theirs - which I don't have a problem with." He grins wryly. "Well, I hope it's theirs. More times than I care to count, it's my blood that's spilling out. But the way I see it, you ain't livin' if you ain't bleedin'." He winks. "Name's Kriger," he introduces himself. Blonde hair with a beard to match, he's rather quite a large fellow which shouldn't be too much of a surprise seeing how he's Ulfen.
With puck-ish lilt Raveneau muses "So we are invited to rescue persons from a prison unknown, held by jailors unseen, and with no promise of profit to come from it?" a smirk forming on the side of his mouth not marred by duelling scar. His words are gently mocking, but with a more playful purpose than dismissive and derisory.
Stretching languidly as he looks to the kitchen to see where Satinder or employee is with his food, Raveneau shrugs "With luck you find me at somewhat of a loose end... What praytell do you intend to do next?"
With puck-ish lilt Raveneau muses "So we are invited to rescue persons from a prison unknown, held by jailors unseen, and with no promise of profit to come from it?" a smirk forming on the side of his mouth not marred by duelling scar. His words are gently mocking, but with a more playful purpose than dismissive and derisory.
Kriger grins wryly. "Yeah; sounds fun, doesn't it?" he asks rhetorically, waggling his eyebrows, obviously chomping at the bit.
Stretching languidly as he looks to the kitchen to see where Satinder or employee is with his food, Raveneau shrugs "With luck you find me at somewhat of a loose end... What praytell do you intend to do next?"
Stroking his beard, "Well, first we eat, then we get our gear and find this unknown prison and these unseen jailers. Then we kill those guys and free the prisoners. And then we take down the Tiger Lords because I don't like them either. But first, we eat."
Satinder's eyes and lips, painted a light shade of purple for the morning, dance and smile as she follows the conversation: "Calistria's work! To have such a random collection of well-gooders meet in such an extravagant a place, AND immediately see eye to eye, in order to save the twon, can only be her work!"
She walks over to Merten: "Please join our table and take a seat. You are my guest here, Merten Falstaff. You're timing is impeccable. By the way, you're exactly how Griselle described you..." she adds with a peevish grin.
"And yes! Let's eat!" she says with a singing voice, as she musses Kriger's hair.
As you enjoy the hearty meal, mostly based on a great blood sausage, some eggs, dark bread and butter, she echoes Raveneau: "He's right, you don't know much about the fort... I remember when the Baron took the daughters of his court and gave them to that bastard Armag. Kisandra's father would have none of it, and hid his daughter with me. Good man. He's probably dead or rotting in Drelev's dungeon... Anyhow, Armag's left since then. Drelev probably knows where."
Merten stops dead when Satinder mentions Griselle, all thoughts of rescue and how to locate the unfound driven from his head. He grasps her by the upper arm, not cruelly, but with some force and chokes out the words, She was here then! When? Where did she go? Please his voice hitches in shock and overwhelming emotion, You must tell me.
"Indeed she was here." Satinder says with a smile, passing a hand on Merten's set jaw. "Clever girl, that one. She went right for Drelev, and managed to snare him tight. She now stays at the Fort. Quite the scandal, if you ask me. I wonder how Lady Drelev is taking it..?"
I restraint myself from questioning an invocation to the Savoured Sting and concentrate on my breakfast until a thought leaps into my mind.
"So, Kisandra would know her way around the fort then?"
"More or less. It's not that big. Most of my girls and myself have gone. But that was before Armag."
Kriger rolls his eyes at Satinder's mention of Calistra. And then immediately jerks his head forward as the thought of a blade removing any part of his hair shoot through his mind as he feels her hand upon him. Straightening his hair back and making sure none of it has been removed, he looks to the woman crossly. Leaning in toward the others as she speaks with Merten, "Can you believe her plan involved me shaving my beard off! There are some things you just don't ask an Ulfen to do. And that's one of 'em!" He looks over at her, "For shame."
Hopefully, no one will need to shave anything... Merten mutters, scratching his own beard, then tapping his philtrum with his index finger as his mind begins to whirl.
Gathering information will be key. We don't want them to know we're coming, and hopefully, we can get in before they even know we're there. What do we know of Lord Drelev and his associates? Would they ward themselves against scrying?
Satinder rolls her purple shaded eyes: "Exactly as she described..." and heads to what is probably the kitchen.
A turn at the corner of Raveneau's mouth can be seen at the idea of shearing Kriger... though he knows better than to speak of it. Not having any fine ideas to add to the table as of yet, he contents himself with blood sausage and bread.
As Satinder leaves for the kitchen, Kriger turns his attention to the others, not really paying attention to what's being said. "You know, I don't trust her, fellas. Something about her smells wrong. I can't figure it out but I sensed something wrong about her earlier when I met with her and even confronted her about it, but she sidestepped it. 'Course, who's gonna come out and admit they're gonna betray you, right?" He glances over by the way she left, making sure she isn't returning. "We better watch ourselves, she might be leading us into a trap. If that's the case, I got an axe waitin' for her." He nods. "I don't like traitors either."
I pause, my fork hovering in the air, "Well, she's not your typical Calistrian, cross-dressing brothel madam revolutionary. I'll give you that."
Kriger looks to Malaswyn with a raised eyebrow. "Cross-dresser? You mean she's a he?" He thinks on it a moment before, "I KNEW IT! I knew something wasn't right. Now, are you positive Mal? Because if she... he... it happens to be a traitor like I initially thought, that'd be okay by me. You know, axe and all." He nods, grinning wryly.
I chew my food contemplatively, "I think she's on our side. She's taken too much of a risk for us not to trust her."
Raveneau shrugs and gestures to Kriger "I'd be more worried if a man such as yourself could understand Satinder... surely that would be more worthy of concern? ... no offence intended... to either of you."
Raveneau shrugs and gestures to Kriger "I'd be more worried if a man such as yourself could understand Satinder... surely that would be more worthy of concern? ... no offence intended... to either of you."
Just as he's about to comment, he thinks on it a moment and finds himself in agreement. "None taken," he shrugs, responding straightforwardly.
I should be able to Kalsgrim, and there are a few methods I might use to go about it. Merten pauses for a moment, weighing his options, then sits at the table and pops a piece of bread into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing before he speaks again. I could conjure up an invisible sensor that would allow me to scout the fortress from a distance, as long as I can see the keep to begin with, that is. Alternately, I could send Luca, and peer through his eyes. I would prefer the first option. Merten shrugs and takes another bite, feeding a few morsels to Luca as he eats. There are all manner of creatures in this world, and those beyond. How our proprietress chooses to dress is no business of mine, unless she chooses to make it so. I should warn you all though, if my former... associate Griselle is with Drelev, we should be on our guards. She is full of guile and deceit, and not to be trusted.
"Well then I'd go with the sensor thingamajig. No sense in sending this Luca fellow if you don't want."
Said from recumbence and with languid calm "Most exciting... so while your eye is elsewhere the rest of us are at liberty?"
Satinder walks back in the room with a plate full of sizzling sausages, filling the air with the sweet aroma of freshly cooked meat. As she bends to put the plate in the center of the table, she gives Kriger a long, languorous look.
"Have you men found a way to get inside? Or should I prepare my razor..." she teases, taking her place back at the table.
Merten favors Raveneau with a grin. I would venture to say you are always at liberty, Master... Hrmph, I don't believe I caught your name, only your faith to the True Spark. Would you care to enlighten me?
Without a sound, the tiny dragon uncoils from Merten's shoulder and takes wing, heading out of the brothel in search of open skies. As it exits, a sibilant purr fills the minds of those gathered in the room.
Stay. Try not to get into any trouble.
Satinder walks back in the room with a plate full of sizzling sausages, filling the air with the sweet aroma of freshly cooked meat. As she bends to put the plate in the center of the table, she gives Kriger a long, languorous look.
"Have you men found a way to get inside? Or should I prepare my razor..." she teases, taking her place back at the table.
Rolling his eyes, "No. We men - which you would know us to be men seeing how we dress like men - are letting this fella here," he motions to Merten, "do what he can to find us a way since he offered his help. And maybe you should learn to dress like a man to, seeing how YOU-ARE-NOT-A-WO-MAN. I knew there was something off about you I just couldn't figure it out. But you should consider yourself lucky. I thought you might be betraying us, and if that was the case, I was gonna kill you. So fortunately for you, it was simply a matter of me not being able to see through your disguise. Which, I'll give you credit for, you did a fine job making yourself look like a woman. Not sure that's something I'd be proud of, but, to each his own I guess." He shrugs. "But let me tell you, you're nothing compared to those nuns. 'Course it helps that they were actually women." Kriger waggles his eyebrows at the thought, remembering the good ol' days fondly as a mischievous grins forms.
Sighing and adding some words to Kriger in the lilting tone of Elvish "Dommage pour vous serait faire joli dans une robe"
To Merten he offers a languid shrug "When there is need for it I can act... And of names I have two - would you prefer the former or the formal?"
Satinder's eyes grow wide, but stay locked on her plate as Kriger speaks. With deliberate slowness, she wipes her mouth and gets up, avoiding eye contact: "If you'll excuse me..." and steps out of the room, accelerating with each step.
Sighing and adding some words to Kriger in the lilting tone of Elvish "Dommage pour vous serait faire joli dans une robe"
Kriger looks to the newcomer, "What? You weren't speaking to me, were you? 'Cause I have no idea what you just said. Or what language that is. Heck, I can barely understand Common," he says with a grin.
I pursue Satinder but save my words for once I am out of the room.
"Satinder, please, he speaks only his own pride and confusion. We do not all see you with such eyes. Freiland is a place where people are free to be themselves, those are our values. All will be embraced."
Sighing and adding some words to Kriger in the lilting tone of Elvish "Dommage pour vous serait faire joli dans une robe"
To Merten he offers a languid shrug "When there is need for it I can act... And of names I have two - would you prefer the former or the formal?"
Merten arches an eyebrow at Raveneau and smirks wryly. Un ours est un merveilleux compagnon de jeu jusqu'à ce que les griffes sortent.
But by all means, continue to poke it. Merten shrugs and turns to rummage around in his pack, speaking as he does. As for your name, whichever you prefer. It will take Luca some time to look about, so we might as well get to know each other a bit better. Do you come from Kyonin, or are you one of the Forlorn? Merten pulls out a finely carved pipe, packs it with aromatic tobacco and muttering a cantrip, sparks it alight.
Hearing Merten's warning and smiling wolfishly Raveneau replies in the Taldan tongue to both phrases said in one "I am both and neither, my name is Raveneau and until the Frieland invitation I danced alone. But solitude and lonliness does not make one Forlorn."
"And I don't mean him any harm either, Chief. I'm just callin' it like it is. Didn't realize he would have such a problem with the truth, though. I guess some folks just can't handle the truth." He shrugs dismissively. "Anyway, doesn't matter to me one way or another what he does on his time. I could care less. I'd rather that than him putting a knife in our backs while we aren't looking. That means I'm a lot less dead." He grins.
Chuckling "You could always kiss and make up Kriger"
I pursue Satinder but save my words for once I am out of the room.
"Satinder, please, he speaks only his own pride and confusion. We do not all see you with such eyes. Freiland is a place where people are free to be themselves, those are our values. All will be embraced."
[dice=diplomacy]1d20+15
Then I bow deeply and withdraw.
I stomp back into the dining room, simmering with frustration and sit down with the rest of the group. I look straight at Kriger, "She would not speak with me. You have offended our host."
Merten gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and clearly wrestles with whether to say anything. Ah, Warden Kriger, forgive me if I give offense, but your assumed truth may be the furthest thing from it. There are certainly magicks in this world which could turn a man into a woman or a woman into a man, or at least give that appearance. Transmutation is one, illusion another. A person could even be born with a woman's mind and heart in a man's body. If Satinder sees herself as a woman, and even goes so far as to dress that way, then perhaps the truth to her is that she is a woman, no matter what her physical sex. If you were suddenly placed into a woman's body with no way to change, would you immediately put on a skirt?
Chuckling "You could always kiss and make up Kriger"
"HA! HA! Okay, that was a good one." He points at him, nodding congratulatory.
As Malaswyn and Merten speak their peace, Kriger looks to them, confused. "Are we still talking about this? Wait a minute... do we save this town if this gets cleared up?" he says facetiously, grinning as he points again at Raveneau and giving a wink. Turning back to the two, "Let it go, boys! We got bigger fish to fry, OH YEAH!"
The conversation slows down and you enjoy the last of the coffee or beer. Satinder is nowhere to be seen,a few charming girls coming to take your plates and serve drinks instead.
Merten's faerie dragon suddenly appears in the room, sliding back around Merten's arm.
Thinking back to Kriger's last comment, Merten gives him a somewhat dubious look. You are more right than you know, apparently, they have a hill giant. Merten scratches the underside of Luca's jaw and feeds him a morsel of bacon. There are also quite a few guards on the streets, and several gates before one can reach the main tower of the fortress, with open courtyards between them. A tough nut to crack, no doubt.
"Well, Sarenrae's gifts will let us walk over those gates and walls, although we would be a little exposed."