One Out of Many

Game Master Mowque

Face motif is 'on the nose'? And I thought I made bad puns...

Rudabeh scans the ruler of Pitax and she sense an aura of Chaos about this man. A fairly strong aura too.

Irovetti cocks his head at Rudabeh's answer, and licks his lips as if tasting it. Then he smiles gently, although there is no warmth there. Her direct stare doesn't seem to intimidate him, but he does avoid locking gazes with her.

"I could turn that on its head as well, young paladin. Perhaps Veleda sees me as a safe space, a sandbox for her newest trainee to play in without risk or consequence. That my grand spectacle is nothing more then a passing fancy, an unimportant indulgence for a ruler to be humored but not taken seriously. In many ways, one could interpret your arrival, a green recruit so to say, as an insult."

Then he adds, 'And there are darker ways to interpret your mission here as well. Other agendas."

Then he waves a hand, and stands up straighter smiling, "But surely you must be right. Of course, how could I doubt it? Come now, let us go to the feast. I can show you some wonderful paintings on the way, although the light today does not do them justice."

Rudabeh and the sovereign pass back into the hallway, which is bordered by guards. Irovetti's tone becomes warmer again and ventures more then a few lame puns as they slowly walk down a grand hallway.

The man seems to honestly enjoying pointing out various artworks and explaining the methods behind them. His grasp of the subject is flimsy but he likes to use exotic words and concepts. The old man also seems to speak a good bit more loudly then required although there is no one but her, him and the even present silent guards.

Still, there is some true artistic talent on display but it becomes clear that Irovetti mandates certain themes and motifs to be used. Instead of the free expression of emotion and thoughts Rudabeh is used to art being, this is more a single person's will, given physical form. Daabi would be horrified.

You've inspired me to work on my own puns!

Unsurprised by the aura of chaos, Rudabeh listens to his interpretation of her arrival. She nods her head in response to his ideas. "It is a possibility, if one lacking evidence. I do not believe my presence to be an insult, but ultimately it is your decision how to interpret this visit. I am merely here to serve you as my duty allows, and if other plots are afoot I am but an unwitting Pawn moved in front of a King." The paladin states evenly, wondering if the conversation is going to transition from the realm of theoreticals into accusations.

The best part about being a Paladin is that someone has to be really stupid or insanely paranoid to think you're actively lying, so hopefully miscommunications will be few.

Thankfully Irovetti drops the subject, though she suspects it will not be the last time they discuss the matter.

Touring the Palace was much more enjoyable. Irovetti seemed to truly love art and has financed its expression well. Exactly why and for what purpose the art was created comes clear, and Rudabeh's instinct that all of these works had been guided by a single will was proved correct. She thinks about what her mother would say about this shackling of artistic direction for a moment, before deciding that whatever it was it would definitely upset Irovetti.

The paladin only has a passing knowledge of painting herself, as her mother and brother do not typically work in such mediums, so she is not humoring the man when she asks legitimate questions on the form, techniques, and styles on display. It is intriguing and she shares genuine warmth in the exchange.

Something about the volume of Irovetti's voice grates on her, though she does not complain. The suspicious part of her mind wonders if anyone else is listening or if he just always talks as if there is an audience. Or perhaps, the undine thinks A simpler explanation is he is losing his hearing?

The tour slowly comes to an end as Irovetti leads Rudabeh to a grand door, made of heavy oak. On the front, a bear carcass has been nailed to it, outstretched and puts Rudabeh in the mind of a hunting lodge.

"Now, to the feast!" he says and waves a hand grandly.

A guard hurries to throw open the door, and the pair of them step inside.

The round room inside is dark and low, with a heavy timbered ceiling (obviously an affectation as the entire Palace, so far, has been made of stone). The floors and walls too are paneled in heavy dark wood, lit by purposefully crude looking hearths.

Along the smoothly curved walls runs a wooden table, fitting tightly against the round wall.

It is laden with food, and any number of scents fill the room. She is struck by the sheer variety in the dishes provided, all steaming hot and fresh. Here was a bounty that could feed an entire village for weeks.

Just at a glance she spots roast duck, stuffed vegetables, a dozen types of simmering soup, a baked tortoise as big as a horse, entire plates of bread, trays of cheeses stacked several feet high. One area is given over to seafood and Rudabeh notices foods she hasn't seen since her days in Outsea. Fried clams, broiled oysters, pickled stingray eyes, salted sea urchins. Dried fish of countless types, even live lobsters strung above boiling pots of water.

Looking closer she even spots more exotic fare. Was that a wholly cooked...owlbear, complete with beak and wings? A plate of steamed hippogriff? Is that cut flail snail under glass?

tearing her senses away from the bewildering feast, Rudabeh sees the room is full of standing people, clumped in small groups. There are perhaps three dozen individuals, all staring at them. The paladin does not see any tables or chairs. Feasts seem to be eaten standing up in Pitax.

Speaking in a commanding voice, Irovetti announces, "We welcome Rudabeh of Outsea, paladin of Alseta and strong right arm of Veleda of the Pact, to Pitax! A true friend of both Pitax itself and the throne." he smiles and places an indulgent hand on her shoulder, like a kindly uncle, " And, might I add, an appreciative student of the arts."

The crowd claps politely, although Rudabeh has a feeling most of these people are sizing her up instead of celebrating her mere arrival. This room was probably filled with the most powerful people in Pitax society and Rudabeh was both threat and opportunity to them.

Leaning close to her ear, Irovetti murmurs quietly, "Food or conversation first?"

I lost it at the cut flail snail under glass LOL

As their tour comes to a close she puts away her cloak (now dried) and helmet in her Bag of Holding, seeing no need to carry or wear either.

Rudabeh quirks a brow at the bear skin nailed to the door, bracing herself for another gaudy display of wealth.

The... Lodge... Did not disappoint.

She is truly taken aback by the rich wooden paneling and design of the dining hall, such a stark contrast to the ubiquitous white stone of the palace. The room was certainly grand, she had to admit. Even though the warrior woman ate large poritons, the sheer amount of food almost made her a little queasy. It was just... so much, completely overdone like just about everything else Irovetti touches.

The roasted owlbear did intrigue her... But she lost a little appetite on eyeing the roast tortoise. They were Alseta's sacred animal, though she's sure it wasn't done intentionally. Still, such a huge animal must have been ancient, and she's saddened by its loss.

The eyes of three dozen people snap her back into the mindframe of a diplomat, and she bows her head to the gathered guests on her introduction. "My greetings to you all! I look forward to making your acquaintances." The undine booms across the lodge, turning her head to each group as she speaks.

Irovetti invasion of her personal space was a bit strange, but she didn't really care. He was putting on a show, and it was doing no harm to her. "The feast is grand and truly capturing the imagination of my pallette, but I would like to meet everyone first." She responds simply to his question, for she would consider it rude to go straight to the food, no matter how magnificent it is.

Irovetti, whose brown eyes glittered strangely in the dim smoky light, says, "Very well. Conversation first."

Everyone else has turned back to talking but it is obvious this is merely a polite ruse, so as to stare at the newcomer.

At her side the ruler of Pitax waves to a clump of portly, well-dressed men who have the clear look of merchants. This also includes the few not-so subtle bodyguards who stand besides them.

"The Trade Houses. They control the commerce of the city. They used to control the city itself." Irovetti says quietly.

Next the king gestures to a tall half-elf circled by a crowd of brightly dressed others, who look up admiringly.

"Zadie Brunn. Master of the Red Cresent Theater. A superb thespian and wields considerable power in that quarter. Thinks he is quite the charmer."

Irovetti seems to be enjoying the whispered descriptions and Rudabeh notes more then one of the other guests look at him with concern. The undine gets the feeling watching Irovetti point and whisper at you is unsettling.

"Next up," he says, apparently unworried about the occasional glances, "my beloved artists."

A small group of people near one of the food tables. This one is the most diverse, including humans, half-elves, halflings and even a few gnomes. It is hard to tell but maybe an aaasimar? Rudabeh notes a few instruments slung on backs, and paint stains on fingers. They seem to be talking animatedly to each other.

The ruler of Pitax sighs,"Expensive friends, to be sure, but valuable."

He dismisses them with a wave and moves on, pointing to a heavy-set woman in a dark cloak, whispering to an imposing man"Toski Darrad. She runs the Thieves Guild in Pitax. I wouldn't advise crossing her."

Toski glances up and locks eyes with Rudabeh for a moment then turns back to her whispers.

Irovetti chuckles darkly then moves on to an older woman, surrounded by a small entourage of priestesses and acolytes. All wear the black and gold of Calistra. "The High Preist of the local temple. Calistra is worshiped quite widely here, especially by the lower classes."

He sounds dismissive and adds, "And other sundry notables." The man grins then, leaning on his staff, "Who shall we talk to first? I am curious who you pick, my young paladin."

Rudabeh follows Irovetti as they walk among the guests, bowing her head slightly to all that make eye contact with her. Irovetti's pointing and whispering was even unsettling to her. The rudeness was astounding, but she suspected this was all some game he was intentionally playing. He wants them to know he's talking about them, spreading rumors about them? She says nothing though, and listens intently. The paladin was not here to instruct the king on manners, and frankly it was his problem.

Given the choices between the various factions of the Pitax, she thought the best decision was obvious. "I would very much like to meet your artists and give them my compliments on their talents, especially while their work is fresh on my mind. I was intending to visit the Academy after the Games to see if I could gain an audience with them anyway."

With the easy and neutral choice out of the way, she has bought some time to strategize for the next. After this I will meet with the High Priest of Calistria. Maintaining cooperation and understanding between the different faiths of the River Kingdoms should be a primary mission of any emissary of Alseta. Then, the Trade houses. I assume they still wield considerable power in this land and I should at least know who they are. After that, whomever is closest, but I intend to introduce myself to everyone by the end of the night at least.

Irovetti smiles knowingly, 'Excellent choice. Let us enjoy some culture before the sordid affairs of politics." Rudabeh gets the feeling the man knows exactly what she intended my meeting the artists first.

Without further comment Irvoetti guides her around the dour looking Trade Houses representatives who look more then slightly miffed at being skipped over.

When they reach the clump of artists, everyone turns to them. For a moment the casual, happy expression are replaced by a guarded watchfulness, all eyes fixed on Irovetti. The older man merely nods and waves his free hand indulgently.

The moment passes quickly and soon the artists are crowded around Rudabeh, asking questions and making conversation.

There is a whirlwind of names, most of which even the sharp eared undine misses. Instead, she focuses on the mediums and questions asked. Everyone wants to know what she thought of the city so far, what her favorite pieces were, what sort of art she enjoyed. Several question her closely about the ways of doing things in Outsea, which all of them seem to find exotic.

Rudabeh quickly gathers this is a fairly international crowd and Irovetti must send invitations (and bribes far afield). There are artists from Taldor, Andoran even Varisia here. They all apologize that the leader of the Academy is not here tonight, and is apparently caught up in some sculpting pieces.

Irovetti's begin smiles slips at this announcement, but his concern vanishes before Rudabeh can be sure. But the artists seem to notice and the friendly atmosphere seems to falter.

It wasn't difficult to notice the change in atmosphere as Rudabeh made her choice. The King's knowing smile, the upset glances from the Trade Houses, and most disturbingly the way the artists look at Irovetti before he waves a hand at them. It looks like they were expecting to be punished like dogs.

While she was legitimately interested in the conversations, techniques, and backgrounds of the artists gathered before her, a bit of anxiety kept tickling her mind. Did I choose wrongly? Should I have spoken to the trade houses first, who Irovietti indicated still had considerable sway? Did he introduce all these people in order for a reason?

Her worrying gets to the point where she can barely follow along with the artists, and she finally makes a decision not to care. No, I must stand by my decisions, and I have already made it. Perhaps the trade houses will be upset, perhaps it is the wrong choice, but... What would Veleda do? Would she turn this into a power play? Make them work for my attention? In truth I do not care about the Trade Houses, as Irovetti clearly wields the most power in this room. They are his subordinates, in a way, and I am here to serve him as well. Perhaps he may even find such a move amusing. They all know my future, but the future is not here. I will follow my oaths and treat them with the same respect I show everyone. Stand tall, be confident, and let them think as they will.

Pushing the self-doubt to the back of her mind, she is finally able to enjoy her conversation with the animated artists for at least a little while, and is quite impressed with the array of diversity on display.

When the reveal is made that the leader of the academy is absent, the pall that falls over the conversation is deafening. She didn't quite catch Irovetti's reaction, but Rudabeh finds herself wishing she had ended the conversation before this matter was exposed, for it was obvious someone was going to get an earful later.

Bowing her head to the gathered artists, she states sincerely- "It was so wonderful to meet you all. Brushing the edges of such talented minds is all one as artistically challenge as myself can hope to achieve. Please keep up your wonderful work and never stop expressing yourselves."

Turing her head to Irovetti after the clear disengagement from the conversation, she continues in the same tone as before. "May we speak to the High Priest of Calistria next? Maintaining cordial relationships with various faiths is one of my primary duties as a disciple of Alseta, and as you might imagine I am always looking for ways to please my goddess."

Just as Rudabeh begins indicating she wishes to move on, the door to the Lodge cracks open. Druxan scuttles in, crab-like. He quickly crosses the room dodging curious onlookers and quiet conversations. He is instantly at Irovetti's side and whispers into the older man's ear. The petty lord raises and eyebrow at the whispered words, too low for Rudabeh to catch. She is impressed, the undine has excellent hearing. Druxan must be a master whisperer or Irvoetti has the ears of a cat. Irovetti asked a few hushed questions in returned is answered then says, louder, ”Well, let her in.”[b/]

Irovetti turns to the by-now interested guests and says, [b]'I believe we are about to have an unexpected guest.” For all of his light words though, Rudabeh detects a wariness here, a sense of uncertainty. Irovetti is not longer at ease, a genial host. Instead he is a watchful king, wary of threats.

The Lodge door opens wide, and a single woman steps into the smoky firelight cast by the cooking braizers. She is small woman, slim with long legs, and long brown hair. Her traveling cloak is muddied and stained, dripping onto the polished wood floor. Bits of twigs and leaves are tossed in her head and face flecked with mud. She grins however at the assembled guests, and says, formally as if to an audience, 'What time is it, milords?”

One of the Trade House members says, pompously, ”An hour before dusk. What is the-”

But the woman cuts him off saying, triumphantly, ”Then I have won my bonus.” She grins again, showing two rows of white shining teeth before waving her arm grandly and stepping to the side.

”Ladies and Gentlemen. I introduce the ruling council of the मुक्त राज्य, the Kingdom of the Free.” Grandly she waves a hand at the center between the wide open doors.

There is a flash of purple light and suddenly there are four people standing on the threshold of the Lodge. There is a murmur of gasps and curses from the unsuspecting guests but Rudabeh notes that Irovetti says nothing, face becoming an unreadable mask. Whatever was happening had not been planned by the ruler of Pitax.

Rudabeh turns to the new figures, eyes adjusting back to the dim lighting.

She is at first drawn to a tall, powerfully built figure. A woman with broad shoulders and rippling muscles, wearing sturdy leather armor. Her frame muscular enough to make Rudabeh, no weakling, feel like a mere stripling. A massive bastard sword is slung across her back, a full 5 feet long, dully glinting in the firelight. She has multiple other weapons strapped to her including a belt of daggers, throwing axes and a heavy spear.

Literally in her shadow is a weedy man, picking his teeth with a dagger. His actions are quick and jumpy, as if electrified. Dressed in rough dark cloth, he seems to naturally melt into the darkness of the doorway. His dark eyes flick over the room, as if assessing the street value of all the items inside.

On the other side stands a half-orc, wrapped in flowing blue robes, which spill out over the lacquered floor. A long staff in one hand, the other hand flickers with arcane power, idling crackling across his thick fingers. He seems quite at ease and not winded from the rather sizable task of teleportation.

But Rudabeh's eyes are drawn to the middle of the door, where a striking elf woman is standing, slightly apart from the others, somewhat more forward. The leader, the paladin recognizes instantly. This was the one in charge.

The woman is beautiful, with high cheek bones, short blonde hair and flashing purple eyes. She is wearing dark leather clothing, topped with a bright yellow vest which gleams in the warm firelight. The elf is armed only with a finely carved longbow across her back, but around her neck hangs the Sacred Sting, a golden symbol of Calistria . More then her appearance however, is a raw feeling of charisma hat flows out from her, an aura of confidence and grace that seems to throw everyone else, even her companions into shadow.

All eyes are fixed on this group in silence.

Don't you love Adventuring Parties? Very conducive to delicate diplomacy

Rudabeh is distracted from speaking with Irovetti when Druxan suddenly appears. She watches with fascination as he scuttles across the room with astonishing speed.

Something was clearly wrong, and though the masterful whispering of Druxan impressed her it failed to shed any light on the situation.

Irovetti's announcement about an unexpected guest causes her to give a look of concern towards the King. His demeanor had changed, and this was clearly not part of any wild plan he had concocted. She places her hands on her hips and turns towards the door, watching the portal with the other guests. Her ears were taut and alert, standing high on her head.

Limpid blue eyes observe the travels trained woman popping through the door, and Rudabeh's brow furrows deeply. Flinching from the sudden and bright purple light, she squints past the pain in her eyes to make out the shapes of four new figures in the doorway. A frown crosses the paladins dark blue lips, and the absence of her sword's weight on her back is suddenly very evident.

Recognition of the group's general purpose is immediate, and her eyes widen slightly in surprise. Oh Alseta, no... Adventurers.

There were many fine adventurer parties in this world, such as her mentor's. But they all existed on a sliding scale of crazy that started somewhere at "insane death-seekers", found its majority at "money-obessed mercenaries" and ended with "power-hungry megalomanics". Even Finn's group was in the middle of this scale, and she would freely admit it.

If there was anything she had learned from all of Finn's stories, it was that wherever there was an adventuring group, trouble followed, even if they didn't mean for it to.

This group, though, looked like the type to cause trouble. The paladin did not need to detect chaos to know these were the do-as-you-please type of adventurers considering they just teleported in uninvited.

The undine eyes sweep over the group, identifying each one's role. Finn's voice announces their titles in her mind, the half-elf's cool and musical voice always sounding like she's about to laugh at some big joke no one else sees.

Huge warrior-woman. The Big Guy. Barbarian or fighter. Take a sniff to find out.

Shifty rat of a man. The Lancer. Rogue. The kind with sticky hands and pants made out of Bags of Holding.

Half-orc, brimming with arcane energy. The Smart Guy. Wizard, probably.

The small girl that made the entrance. The Heart. Dunno what she does other than roll around in the mud. Might not even be with them.

Elf beauty with the holy symbol. The Leader. Priest? Bard? Who knows... But she's the mouthpiece.

Rudabeh sucks her lips in though, Finn's voice fading into the back of her mind. They're powerful, too. That wizard didn't break a sweat... Teleporting into this private party unannounced, avoiding all protocol, and breaking through a threshold without permission! Alseta, if your eyes and ears are on me now, mark these interlopers for their flagrant trespass. The paladins thoughts swirl and anger begins to form towards the blatant abuse of teleportation magic. The silence settles into an uncomfortable stalemate around her.

She had made some poor decisions before, and this was probably going to be one of them considering this is Irovetti's Palace and his feast... but... He was silent and her duty as a mediator wells to the surface of her soul, pushing her to speak out with no fear. This is my duty! "Greetings, ruling council of the मुक्त राज्य. I am Rudabeh of Outsea, Paladin of Alseta, representative of the Pact of Years and humble guest of King Irovetti." Rudabeh booms, not knowing what the Elven(?) word meant but recognizing a title when she hears one.

Having drawn their attention, the paladin crosses her arms over her chest, standing tall and firm. "You appear to be exactly where you intend to be, so may I ask what your purpose for being here is?" She tries to keep the annoyance at their trespass and teleportation from entering her voice, but it was difficult. Perhaps they have a good reason. Perhaps not.

As Rudabeh speaks a few bits of information come back to here. The Kingdom of the Free was the name of that new kingdom being hacked out of the Stolen Lands just to the north and west of here. While they had accepted Veleda's invitation to the Pact of Years they hadn't sent any delegates or visited themselves. Instead they had engaged in any number of minor border disputes and arguments. Rudabeh knew that Pitax, in particular, viewed them as a growing threat.

The elf woman merely raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at Rudabeh's statement. 'Why, answering an invitation of course." She seems honestly puzzled by Rudabeh's tone.

"King Irovetti here sent out, surely at great expense, invitations to all the surroundings lands." She looks around at the room then smiles, "Are we the only ones who came?"

"A pity." She goes on, 'Pitax is so nice in the rain. Very...forbidding, with all the faces and stuff." Her holy symbol glitters as the elf walks forward, striding with a dancer's grace.

"We only honor a call of friendship and friendly competition, paladin." She pauses then adds, "I apologize if we gave you and your host a fright."

She smiles and then, to Rudabeh's surprise, a few other guests join her. It occurs to the paladin, many in this room would enjoy seeing Irovetti and Rudabeh brought down a peg.

She bows and adds, "But my manners, Lord Irovetti. My name is Tolmara Fayendlur, a humble follower of Calistria." her eyes dart to the older High Priest near a food table, then back to Rudabeh.

"Also, I apologize for being late. We had some problems in our own lands that needed attending to."

The hulking woman with the bastard sword grunts a laugh and says, 'A few less trolls." The skinny man laughs and says, "And a few more coins."

Tolmara rolls her eyes at them as there are a few hesitant laughs from the crowded guests. Her melodramatic gesture sets off a few more.

In mere moments, this elf was winning over a crowd of very suspicious and very powerful people.

The identity of the band of adventurers starts to coalesce in Rudabeh's mind, and it soon became clear that they were supposed to be here, technically. She relaxes a bit, though the paladin still silently smolders over the frivolous use of teleportation magic (they were... killing trolls?!) and lack of protocol. Also, the paladin had certainly never met a humble follower of Calistria, which she was pretty sure qualified as an oxymoron.

The...cute...? banter between the adventurers-turned-rulers does not elicit any laughter from Rudabeh, she smiles plaintively. While the realization that Ivoretti and herself are seen as the a representation of power in the room and many would be amused at their humiliation, she does not care what they think of her as long as her reputation as a neutral and fair mediator is maintained.

Rudabeh bows her head slightly to the priestess. "I apologize for my concerned response. As you have ascertained, your appearance was startling and unexpected. I am simply thankful your herald ensured there was no one standing in the spot you appeared."

She continues in an even tone, approaching and extending a hand to the elf. "it is a pleasure to meet one of the ruling council of the Kingdom of the Free, Tolmara Fayendlur. When you find some time I would very much enjoy hearing about your lands and government. The Pact of Years has not received any delegates nor information from you since your inclusion, so I must assume that, aside from trolls, everything is going well." Rudabeh decides to Turn the Mask to their use of teleportation magic... for now... and make a legitimate effort to be friendly towards the elf. Their attitude had colored her perception, and in a perfect world she wouldn't have to make friends with such people, but Veleda's words echo in her mind; If we only dealt with the wise and fair, we would have precious few delegates in the Pact.

diplomacy to influence attitude: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (11) + 11 = 22

Tolmara grasps Rudabeh hand without hesitation, even taking a step to meet her halfway. Her grip is firm and warm, almost...sensual? The elf's purple eyes lock with Rudabeh's, sparkling in the dancing firelight.

"Yes, things are well." she says lightly, "You know, building order out of chaos, trying to create a kingdom. It isn't easy work and leaves little time for diplomatic work." then she smiles winning, 'But of course, you are right. I will make a point to take care of it."

Then she lets go and turns toward Irovetti. The older man seems to have sized up his new guests and smiles in his own turn.

"I am glad you decided to come, and of course you are welcomed. If only more of our fellow rulers had decided to attend." he eyes the hulking woman who is glancing at the tables laden with food.

"Please, please, help yourself." he waves a hand at the food, other hand gripping his bejewled staff tightly.

The bastard sword wielding woman, the small thin man and the obvious wizard move toward the food.

Tolmara however, bows again and says, "I thank you for your hospitality." With that she makes a beeline toward the Trade House representatives (mostly doddering old men) and bows in a way to fully show off her more...potent assets.

Irovetti remains somewhat apart, near the artists but ignoring them. His eyes are locked on the new arrivals, and the older man looks deep in thought and calculation.

The other guests seem to gravitate toward the newcomers, although they keep a wary distance from the two openly armed ones.

I would argue building a kingdom is diplomatic work, for no land exists alone. She thinks while Tolmara grips her hand, but she leaves the thought unsaid and instead smiles back in response.

Letting go after a firm handshake, the undine keeps her gaze on the seemingly endless depths of the elf's eyes. "I am glad to hear it. If you wish to arrange any meetings through me I will be here until the end of the tournament and perhaps a day or two after."

With that she watches the elf scurry off to ply the trade houses. A smart move, considering the shared border between Pitax and the Kingdom of the Free. Rudabeh looks at her hand for a moment, still feeling the strange and sensual warmth of the elf. What a bizarre woman. She exudes an aura like Veleda, but... Sexual?

Giving her head a shake to clear the thoughts, the paladin clanks her way back to Irovetti side, crossing her arms over her chest. "You have interesting neighbors, King Irovetti. I know from reports they have not been exactly... friendly. My swordsmanship mentor was an adventurer and I know the breadth of shenanigans they can get up to. If they cause any trouble I am here to assist you in keeping the peace." Her voice was flat and matter-of-fact, but she was clearly pledging her support for Irovetti if this group had underhanded plans. It was his kingdom after all, and Courts are for Kings.

She waves a gauntleted hand towards the High Priest of Calistra. "Shall we continue with introductions?"

Irovetti doesn't look at her, eyes still fixed on Tolmara. He does answer however, albeit with a somewhat distant voice, "Yes, the assurances of the Pact are always very reassuring."

He drifts away to talk to Druxan, finger drumming absently on his staff, face lost in thought.

I assume you'd still want to go talk to everyone? if not, we can ret-con the below.

Lacking her guide, Rudabeh walks over to the High Priest.

The older, matronly looking woman is in deep, anxious conversation with her entourage of younger priestesses and acolytes. Judging from thier hissed whispers and glances at Talmora, they are speaking about the elf.

When Rudabeh strides up however, the High Priest gives her a quick smile and quiets everyone else. In fact she shushes them quickly and firmly enough that Rudabeh can't hear what they were talking about...

"Ah yes, a representative of the Pact? How is diplomatic arm of Alseta doing these days?" The tone is slightly cool but distracted. Even as she speaks, Rudabeh catches the woman looking toward Tolmara.

Yeah had a feeling he would wander off. Rudabeh would still want to talk to everyone though.

Unsurprised by Irovetti wandering off, Rudabeh finds herself with no guide. It was a bit refreshing. She willingly let herself sink below the waves Tolmara and her group were causing. Just as she could function in water or on land, so too could the paladin work in the spotlight or behind the scenes.

She starts to make her way towards the huddle of Calistia priestess, quite impressed with their ability to be shushed so quickly. Such discipline was rare, especially in such free-spirited faith.

Bowing her head to the head priestess, Rudabeh's attention is completely focused, unlike the person she's talking to. "Very well, thank you. I'm sorry, but Irovetti only mentioned your title, Priestess..?"

After she has the woman's name the undine continues, her tone professional and even. "I wanted to introduce myself and offer my services as a mediator of Alseta while I am here. Though my assigned duty is to judge the tournement, if your church has any inter-faith issues they would like resolved I am happy to help as long as I am in Pitax." It may have sounded like a sales pitch, she was simply attempting to be helpful and serve her goddess.

As the Priestess glances towards the unexpected elven guest, Rudabeh changes the subject. "Are you a friend of Talmara? I noticed her look over at you while she was introducing herself. Like me, I would not be surprised if she comes to speak with you next. Irovetti said faith in Calistia is strong here." There is no hint of jealousy or scorn in Rudabeh's voice, for she was merely curious.

The woman snaps back to Rudabeh when asked for a name, "Kilarra will do." She says rather shortly and goes on, "Our church can manage its own affairs quite well. While we, as all do, appreciate the Pact's diplomatic skill and activities, I have always felt intra-faith dispute should be settled by their own priesthoods. I have never had Veleda ask me to speak to her followers, after all."

This isn't strictly true. The Pact of Years has never formally announced any faith or god as their own, although of course, Alseta has quite the following. But obviously other faiths, or at least other faith leaders, sometimes feel under attack.

Then the woman pauses, taking a deep breath, and focuses fully on Rudabeh, "I apologize. It has been a long day and the arrival of the others has quite thrown me." She purses her lips, "No, I have not met them before, although one hears rumors."

One of the other minor priests, a young handsome man of his mid-20's says "Will they stay with us?" He sounds hopeful, eyes fixed on Talmara, who is laughing at some joke or story.

Kilarra curtly gestures for silence and goes on, "But I do not think we will need your services, arbiter."

Arbiter is an overly formal way of referring to traveling Alseat priest, and has fallen out of fashion. It si an insult, if a subtle one

Rudabeh blankly listens to the high priestess, her subtle jabs and complaints sliding off of her like oil on water. She was used to dealing with the barbed tongues of Calistria priests- as long as you took their words at face value they actually seemed rather polite.

"I apologize, Kilarra, I must not have enunciated well, for I meant inter-faith issues, such as any conflicts involving the church of Calistria and other faiths. In any case your point is received and you are clearly more than capable of handling your own affairs." Rudabeh explains, not trying to argue semantics but merely attempting to get her point across.

She glances again at the elf, still plying her charms with the Trade Houses, before looking back at the Priestess. The paladin waves a dismissive, gauntleted hand. "No need for apologies, they seem to have taken everyone by surprise."

With a bow of her head, Rudabeh gives a light smile and takes her leave. "Thank you for your time, High Priestess. I hope we can find another chance to talk in the future."

Walking away from the group of holy persons, the paladin fixates on the next person Irovetti named- Zadie Brunn. Master of the Red Cresent Theater. It wasn't hard to see the tall, shiningly armored undine heading their way, fully telegraphic her intentions to talk.

Rudabeh leaves the priests of Calistria behind and they instantly fall back into heated whispers. The ripples from Talmara's visit are spreading rapidly.

As the paladin heads for the clump of actors, they part for her, as if on cue. Zadie, a tall rather elegant looking half-elf smiles as the others make way. He says nothing but his manner indicates he is used to such treatment.

He bows low and formally to Rudabeh, doffing a fashionably cap. " Greetings and well met, Rudabeh of Outsea. You humble us by your visit. Not only because of the august office you hold but also your own charming presence." His voice is a practiced low tone that sounds intimate and private, as if he is speaking to her alone.

With a flourish he stands back up, smiling slightly, "You will have to attend a show, as my personal honored guest. I know Outsea has some of the most unusual drama productions int he River Kingdoms, but I feel the Red Cresent may be able to still impress you. It holds many secrets."

Rudabeh feels a little uneasy as the crowd of actors parts for her approach- she did not mean to belittle any of the group, but she supposes her intentions of meeting Zadie were quite clear.

Finally, someone with some manners and cilivity. She can't help but think as the thespian formally introduces himself.

She returns his bow with a small nod of her head. "Thank you for the kind words, Zadie. I do not know how long I will be in Pitax after the tournament, but I will be overjoyed to accept your invitation should a break in my duties allow it. I will be sure to arrange a message to you if the opportunity presents itself." Rudabeh says sincerely, and part of her truly does wish there will be time to witness a performance.

Zadie's mention of Outsea's unusual drama productions sets her musing, causing a light grin to form on the edges of her azure lips. "You are well-informed, I see. Unusual is a very diplomatic way of phrasing it, for after traveling I realize now that bizarre is much more apt. I have seen several experimental productions at The Shelled Muscle, including the first night of the infamous play The Keystone and the Gillmen over two decades ago. My parents were invited to the play and brought my family along, but no one was expecting the riots to break out." The undine shakes her head sadly, recalling the violence.

"Touching upon any matter concerning Aboleths or their allies is difficult at best in Outsea and the interpretation of events by the production manager was... Poorly considered. This along with the live tiger sharks and bundles of chum released on stage triggered the blood rage of many sanghuin and turned the amphitheater into what landlubbers would call a "feeding frenzy", but a better description for how sanghuin and sharks instinctively work together would be "death vortex". Her face had slowly slid into a frown, ears retracting slightly. But she just as quickly snaps out of it, offering a sheepsih smile to Zadie.

"Ah, pardon me, I was rambling. I can only assume your theatre is capable of stirring such levels of passion as well, without the blood rage." She jokes, shifting to rest her hands at her waist.

I'm referencing the Gillman presenting the keystone of the Arch of Aroden to Andoran in AR 4670, which can be seen here Arch of Aroden article. And then I made a bunch of stuff up.

"There are few compliments higher to a stage production then to incite blood rage. Your comments remind me I really must make time to visit Outsea. It sounds like quite a spectacle."

Zadie goes on, "Of course, there are ways beyond spectacle or blood to incite...passion." He meaningfully glances at Tolmara, eyes twinkling. 'A feeding frenzy can happen out of the water too."

Shrugging the actor goes on, "The festivities last for several days, Rudabeh. The joust is merely the crowning event, the finale. I hope you can spare some time during the week to visit the Theater. I think you would hear and see much that may interest you. Both as a enjoyer or art and as a....follower of Alseta?"

The words are heavy with melodramatic mystery and grandeur. It is overdone but Rudabeh thinks there may be an actual message buried in those words.

But then he laughs and the spell is broken, "But surely there are others to talk to here then some humble play-actors?"

Rudabeh raises her eyebrows slightly at the thinly veiled sexual innuendo, amused at the half-elf's forwardness. Just shaking Tolmora's hand made me tingly... I can't imagine what her presence is doing to a... lady's man...? like Zadie. She does not comment, however.

"I would highly recommend visiting Outsea. There are plentiful magical services available for terristials if you wish to breathe water and get the full experience." The native undine was happy to give a sales pitch for her former home town- it really was a fascinating place.

Clear blue eyes focus intently on Zadie words about the games. " To be honest, I have been told very little about the games, what exactly I will be doing, or their schedule. You're the first to tell me anything, actually! But with this knowledge I can assure you I will make every effort to visit your theatre, for all the reasons you listed." She certainly caught the possibly melodramatic, possibly intriguing message in his words, and intended to find out what it meant later.

With a small bow of her head, she indicates her intentions to leave the group. "Yes, I suppose I should continue my introductions. Thank you for the wonderful chat, Zadie."

The undine turns and makes her way across the room once more, this time heading towards Toski Darragh. Rudabeh had, in truth, never spoken to anyone proclaiming to be the head of a thieves guild and wasn't sure how she felt about the concept. While she abhorred thievery, the undine had decided not to immediately judge ad and could at least assume that organized crime had to be better than unorganized crime, right?

Zadie waves genteelly as Rudabeh walks away saying, "As I said, our doors are open to you and always a seat set aside."

Rudabah crosses the room, which is quiet now except for whispered conversations punctuated with the occasional peal of laughter as Talmora charms the master of the Trade Houses. Her allies are eating the food laid out, obviously helping themselves. The wind-swept woman who announced them is handed a bag of gold by the weedy rogue and leaves, a grin on her face.

As Rudabeh approaches Toski, she notes the man at her side, tense slightly. It is barely noticeable but he sets his feet, relaxes his posture into a subtle battle stance. This one is a warrior and one on edge.

Toski however, is less imposing. An older woman with graying brown hair, she wears a thick cloak about her, embroidered with subtle shimmering designs. Her face is heavily covered in make-up, but well done and tasteful.

Her eyes, set in dark blue powder, look at the world keenly.

When she speaks, her voice is tired but hale. "A paladin of Alseta and representative of the Pact itself. What an honor. While I often deal with foreigners in my duties, it is rare I meet someone of so distinguished a background. You honor me."

Rudabeh watches the mud-splattered woman accept her bag of gold and disappear. So she is not with them... I wonder how she played into their teleportation? While versed in the rudimentary basics of teleportation, she has no arcane knowledge or training to try and suss out how the girl helped them teleport into the palace. I suppose I could just ask the wizard himself? The undine makes a mental note to do so, her eyes and focus instead settling on the tense man next to Toski.

Limpid eyes meet the mans own briefly, her face placid. She blinks slowly and nods her head in his direction, signaling her innocent intentions before looking at Toski. Whether or not it puts the man at ease, she at least made an effort.

Approaching within talking distance of the guild master, she stops and bows her head slightly to the older human. "Thank you Toski, your words are kind." The paladin responds, not actually sure what to say next for a moment. In fact, she was pleasantly surprised by the woman's evenly measured voice.

"Irovetti spoke highly of you, and I wanted to make your acquaintance." Rudabeh explains, settling and crossing her hands in front of her waist, standing straight. "You appear to be the only one not fawning over Tolmara." The undine says with a small joking smile, her white and slightly pointed teeth glimmering through. "Which makes you a prime candidate for conversation."

Toski smiles frostily and nods her head. "It takes more then a pretty face to distract me, these days." She inclines her head toward Irovetti, still deep in conversation with Druxan.

"And what did His Supreme and Inimitable Magnificence say about me? I long to hear the words of our great and glorious leader." Her eyes, dark and mysterious, seem very large. "And everyone knows that paladins do not lie."

Rudabeh chuckles softly, amused by the woman's veiled sarcasm towards Irovetti. "You are not the first to take advantage of my oaths. Technically I could say nothing, but in this case I do not mind indulging you." She says, amusement still light on her voice.

The paladin does not shift her stature as she speaks. "He said you were a woman not to be crossed- which I interpreted as a sign of deep respect."

"Is that what he said?" Toski says musingly, "Do I seem so formidable to you? I am merely the High Commissioner and Protector of Outer and Inner Trade. A humble bureaucratic position, I assure you."

For all of her words though, he eyes flick to Irovetti. The ruler may not have been so deep in conversation as it seems for the older man locks gazes and then, coldly, smiles.

Toski stiffens at that expression and her tone becomes flat. "I apologize, representative, I suddenly feel quite unwell. It was pleasant meeting you." She makes quick gesture to her bodyguard, and they both turn in a swirl of cloaks. Then she adds, voice a whisper, "I hope you will see justice done."

Then both of them leave without saying anything else, passing the other guests in silence. Many eyes follow her quick retreat.

Irovettio mutters something to Druxan and both laugh.

Rudabeh finds the woman's response interesting, and starts to suspect she's been set up by Irovetti. "I try not to judge by looks alone. Veleda is nearing her 80th winter, but I have been her cow a man twice her height and four times her weigh with a glance."

After the exchange of glances between Toski and Irovetti, the paladin begins to understand that she has not exactly been manipulated, but perhaps tricked, into delivering a political message. I should not repeat anything Irovetti says. The man is far too clever.

With a bow of her head, she sees the woman off. "Thank you for your time, Toski. I hope the future finds you well."

She does not respond to the whisper, though her expression changes to one of curiosity. Justice?

The note in her pocket suddenly feels very heavy, and some suspicions begin to form in her mind.

Turning towards the food tables, she decides she's had enough talking for now. Besides, the Trade Houses are still being entertained by Tolmara, so she will have to gain audience with them later.

One matter hangs heavily on her mind, however. Making her way to the piles of seafood, Rudabeh reaches into her pocket and pulls out the note that had been slipped inside. Still walking, she unfolds the paper and reads the message.

Rudabeh steps toward the seafood, and the scents of steamed clams and fried anchovies takes her back to Outsea. While they normally ate them raw, her father was rather known for providing Outsea dishes to landlubbers curious about aquatic fare.

The warm memories of home and family fade however, as she pulls out the note. The folded bit of paper is thick and heavy, but on cheap paper. The message is sort.

Scrawled in simple ink is the following.

We desire the eyes of Alseta to be turned to us. Come to the Red Cresent Theater at midnight.

Then, scribbled at the bottom,

Come alone and do not be followed.

The eyes of Alseta...it is an old, almost archaic way of asking for one of the roving priests of Alseta to act as arbiter. Such words have been spoken to Veleda and others hundreds of times. It is a formal request for an audience and arbitration.

Just as she has time to podner this she hears a voice.

"It is one of my great regrets in life that I have never visited Outsea." Rudbahe, startled, looks up. Standing in front of her is the half-orc wizard. His staff floats at his side, freeing his hands to hold a plate of boiled onions, which he seems to relish.

He looks lost in thought for a moment and then says, in perfect Aquan "May the currents favor your need.".

His pronunciation is perfect although he empathize the word 'need' where a native would always accent 'currents'. The words are an old formal greeting, mostly used in official ceremonies these days.

This will be my most challenging roleplay yet... Pretending to like seafood!

The aroma of the seafood washes over Rudabeh, ad she breathes in what others may describe as pungent, but to her it was the smell of home.

The note flips open to a short message, and she scans it in seconds. Not Toski? She thinks, almost with disappointment. I will need to speak with her about the "justice" comment later, and why Irovetti said she was master of the thieves guild. Some strange politics are afoot here.

Well, Zadie's veiled comments make much more sense now. A note in my pocket! Eyes of Alseta! He has a flair for the dramatic, and chose his profession well. He couldn't give a date though? Midnight WHEN? I suppose I should just ask him, he already invited me to the Theatre. The undine seems to be staring into a bubbling pot of clam chowder with incredible intensity when a voice seems to come out of nowhere.

A little startled, she looks up to see the half-hour wizard, a floating staff, and a boiled plate of onions. The paladin quickly gathers her wits, a smile blossoming on her face as she casually folds the note in her hand and returns it to her pocket.

The wizard's greeting was good, though clearly learned from a book. "And may your eyes never go dry." She responds in Aquan, finishing the two-part phrase that thanked the speaker. Dry was an interesting word in the Aquan language, typically synonymous with death, the unknown, or many other unpleasant context-based uses. Of course none of that applied to an amphibious creature like herself, but she didn't make the language.

"Your pronunciation is perfect, you could easily make innumerable friends in Outsea." Rudabeh says, switching back to Taldan. Her hand extends for him to shake. "You know me as Rudabeh, but your name is...?"

After committing his name to memory, she continues. "I highly encourage you visit, it is a wonderful place. In fact, could you not teleport there? The power is clearly well within your means." She had completely recovered from her surprise and was already setting up the conversation to ask about how exactly that girl played a part in their teleportation. Rudabeh was only playing a little dumb- her rudimentary education in teleportion magic let her know a spellcaster usually had to visit a place beforehand to be able to teleport there, unless they were very powerful.

'Nubauch Jar' the half-orc says, swallowing another onion. He waves his hand and the greasy hand becomes clean. He holds it out to Rudabeh, in proper River Kingdom fashion. He does it, somehow, in a way that makes it clear he [i]also[/s] learned that in a book.

"Ah, teleportation is not as easy as it looks. For that little trick earlier, I was using our friend to scry on this location, so as to send myself and my allies, here easily."

He pops another onion into his mouth before going on, "But it isn't the effort really. It is mostly time. I spend most of my time in study of the arcane arts. I view evenings such as this a waste, really. But Tolmara was insistent." he sighs good-naturally.

The weedy rogue, Rudabeh notices is watching them closely. How long has he been doing so?

Nubauch goes on, "So you use divine magic then, as a paladin? I have always been rather askance at the idea of my magical power being tethered to an unknown and unpredictable being. Is it a problem you have had in the past?"

"A pleasure, Nubauch." She says after learning his name.

The mystery of the highly accurate teleport was rapidly solved. Scrying a person and then teleporting to it? That is disturbingly clever... How could I tell someone is being scryed though? She puts the thoughts on potential abuses of teleportation in the back of her mind. While the wizard and his trope's actions were rude, they didn't break any laws and they were invited.

"I assume one must spend most of their time studying the arcane in order to master it." She concurs, but with a caveat. "A night out won't be so bad though, surely. A breadth of experiences can be invaluable. You never know when inspiration may strike."

She glances to the side, clear blue eyes settling on the rogue for a moment before returning to the wizard. That one is unsettling...

The paladin chuckles softly at her goddess being described as "unknown and unpredictable", smiling knowingly. "On the contrary, Alseta is as known to me as my own mother, and has given all her followers clear guidelines in the holy tome The Sacred Keystones. As long as I keep my oaths and follow the teachings of the goddess she will continue to bless me with her miracles. Long ago, a teacher of mine said "If you can worship your holy one just by being yourself, you will find divine favor." This is certainly my case. I rarely feel I have to struggle with my oaths."

Rudabeh lifts a guantleted hand to hr breastplate, knocking it slightly. "However, I am primarily a warrior. My magical powers are merely a compliment to my sword, which I study and practice as vigorously as you study the arcane."

Nubauch rolls his eyes at her remark about 'inspiration'."You remind me of them." He points a long finger toward his allies, whoa re talking quietly over foot, eyes roving the room.

"I find that inspiration comes more often when one is applying oneself in study then when frittering about in taverns or hacking apart trolls."

He goes on, "I have read The Sacred Keystones several times, in varying languages. I am sorry to say but I was unimpressed. It is a mode of thought far to shackled to communal work and not enough to personal improvement." He pauses then adds with a hurried attempt at tolerance, "But I am happy you find peace with it."

Before they can say anything more, Irovetti takes a step forward, clearing his throat. The room instantly stills, even Tolmara pausing and looking at the slightly bent older man.

"I am sorry to say I was distracted by our unexpected guests." he waves genially at Tolmara, who bows back.

"But I did have a special treat made up for our other guest, the esteemed paladin of Outsea." Irovetti claps his hands, and a kitchen door swings open, revealing four muscled servants bearing a heavy plate. On the heavy, carved oak plank rests a weird creature Rudbaeh knows but the others look at in confusion.

"Tojanida!" Irovetti says, "Prepared with the correct seasonings and spices."

The creature resembles a cross between a turtle and a crab, with flippers instead of legs, a snapping beak, and two pincers.

Rudabeh is only aware because she knows that triton (a merfolk like people) hunt them in the distant sea. She knows the cost of providing one for this feast must have been outrageous. Even in Outsea they were for stories, and she has never even seen one let alone eaten one.

Everyone looks to her for her reaction, obviously wanting an undine to take the lead.

Please don't post. Need to add more

Oh, sorry if unclear. You can post now!

Rudabeh was about to offer a rebuttal on the merits and strengths of community, for without a community to grow Nubauch's food or build roofs and the like, when would he have time to study magic?

The conversation would have undoubtedly went around and around had it not been interrupted by Irovetti. The paladin's brows arch in confusion and curiosity when he says a special treat had been prepared for her.

Clear blue eyes widen and a genuine expression of shock appears on her face as the cooked Tojanida is carried into the dining hall. That... How did he...? It must have cost a small fortune!

She recovers from her stunned expression and notices the crowd was looking at her for some kind of direction. With little time to decide how she felt about eating a sentient creature, she leaves Nubauch's side and makes for the procession of meat. The undine's voice booms across the dining hall- "What a surprise indeed! Tojanida are magical creatures, the subject of stories and plays not only in Outsea, but the greater sea itself. I do not know anyone who has seen one, including myself, and only tritons are known to hunt and eat them!"

There was a note of wonder in her voice, for truly, this was a bizarre and special occasion Irovetti has provided. As she walks towards the mountain of meat she wonders if she cares about actually eating it. I do not think I would take the life of a sentient creature for consumption, but... It is already dead, I see no reason to waste its bounty. Yet how would they feel if a human were served at a tojanida banquet, which has most certainly happened...?

Having rationalized the consumption of the Tojanida to a degree, she approaches its shelled body, marveling at the magical and unique carapace. "I encourage everyone to sample this bounty, for this may be a once-in-a-lifetime experience." The various seasonings and spices certainly made it smell good, and she can feel her stomach clench in hunger as the scents waft outward.

Closer to the King now, she says with a quieter sincerity- "Thank you for this opportunity, Irovetti. If I were not a paladin no one at Outsea would believe me when I tell them I was given the opportunity to sample a cooked tojanida! I believe we should start with the meat in the pincers, if we have a way to crack them..."

Irovetti, obviously pleased his extravagant gesture has been well received, claps again. More servants, arrive bearing a cedar table. The tojanida is laid out upon it, and other servants with heavy hammers and tongs appear. Whatever else, Irovetti likes to be prepared.

The old man smiles, "I am glad I got such a large one, considering our unexpected guests" he nods to Tolmara and the others. While he may have been caught off guard, he was recovering nicely.

As the servants begin breaking open the hard crusted shell of the sea creature, which is a cerulean blue, the hulking barbarian woman speaks up.

"You would eat a thinking creature for food? Kill it and present it like a stuffed pig? Just to further lord it over others how rich you are?" Her words are harsh, tone blunt. A sudden silence falls over the assembled crowd, shocked at this indiscretion. Interestingly the other adventurers seem unsurprised. The wizard barely looks up from his close examination of the dead tojanida. The rogue merely grins to himself while Tolmara's face is a mask, a picture of polite concern.

The huge woman turns toward Rudabeh, "A paladin would accept such a 'gift'?" the words are more challenge then question and it is obvious the woman is looking for a fight.

Rudabeh moves aside as the massive table is moved into place, impressed with the effectiveness of Irovetti's servants. "Was it boiled whole?" She inquires, the delicious aromas starting to make her stomach turn knots. "Wherever did you find a pot big enough? I believe the Tritons traditionally hold their kills in front of underwater steam vents."

The sudden silence of the crowd as the barbarian woman speaks up is nearly as deafening as her booming voice. Rudabeh looks up, her ears folding down and eyebrows furrowing in concern. She is right, this is a gross display of wealth. But it is not my place to chastise, and neither is it hers.

As the hulking woman addresses the undine specifically, she does not flinch from the challenge. Instead, the turquoise skin of her face relaxes into a mask of practiced neutrality. "Yes." Rudabeh replies simply at first, turning her body to face the barbarian.

Placing one hand on her hip, the other gestures freely between herself, the tojandi, and the barbarian woman, she continues. "The morality of this situation is as nebulous as an ink cloud. We do not know what this tojandi did in its life or what events lead up to its death, but these creatures have been known to eat humans and are capable of evil... just like the trolls you killed before arriving. You did not hear anyone raise their voice to question your motives for killing sentient creatures, because we gave you the benefit of the doubt and assumed your reasons were for the good of your country. Few trolls take to farming or baking, after all. I ask you, ma'am, to extend the same courtesy we all gave you to this situation as well. Because in the end King Irovetti is holding this banquet and his invited you to his games for the same reasons you kill trolls, albeit using different means. It is for the good of his country."

Rudabeh's voice is firm but measured, taking on a strong debating tone as if she were presenting a case in court. "As for my own personal convictions I have no desire to hunt sentient creatures for the purpose of consumption. However, this tojandi is here, in front of us, fully cooked and ready to be eaten. If there is anything I have learned from the druids of Alseta it is that a source of serendipitous nourishment should not be wasted, and I share those views."

The paladins hands sweep slowly in front of her in a gesture of welcoming and peace. "So please, let us enjoy this meal and appreciate the generosity of our host."

diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (7) + 11 = 18

The barbarian, obviously more used to settling disputes with fists then word merely scowls. The skinny rogue taps on her shoulder and begins whispering in the woman's ear. They begin to laugh at some secret joke or plan. It makes Rudabeh uneasy.

Tolmara meanwhile merely raises a thin eyebrow and nods her head in respect.

The feast begins as everyone gets steaming slices of tojandi. The pale, slightly quivering flesh reminds Rudabeh of oysters but the scent is sweeter and richer. She takes a bite and, to her relief, finds it at least taste good. Whatever ethical stain touches it doesn't spread to the flavor.

As they all eat, standing closer then previously, one of the members of the Trade Houses manages to look away from Tolmara long enough to engage Rudabeh in conversation.

"Of Outsea? Would you happen to know a certain undine named Gegdev? I have worked with him before, through intermediaries, of course. I find your homeland to be a fascinating one, I must admit, and profitable. The possibilities for trade have not truely been tapped."

He holds out a hand, "Alderman Gemus Oskara." The name isn't familiar to Rudabeh but if he worked through third party dealers, that isn't surprising.

Rudabeh eyes the barbarian and rogue as they laugh over some secret. It didn't just make her uncomfortable, but it reminded her of the way Irovetti and Druxan laughed when she spoke to Toski.

Have I become some sort of political foot ball to be kicked around for peoples' amusement? She ponders, meeting Tolmara's gaze for a moment to return the nod. The paladin turns back to the bounty of flesh in front of her, securing utensils and finally getting something to eat.

The tojandi is thankfully delicious. She savors the slick flesh on her pallette for several moments before swallowing. Spearing another piece on her plate, she is mid-mouthful when Alderman Gemus Oskara approaches her.

The undine does not immediately react when asked if she knows her father, because she would have choked with laughter. Thankfully her supreme emotional control manages to suppress the guffaw that would have surely lodged tojandi into her windpipe, and instead Rudabeh throughly chews and swallows before answering, as is polite.

A genuine smile turns up her blue lips at the Alderman, taking his hand and shaking it. "Ah, pardon me Gemus, my mouth was full. It's a pleasure to meet you. To answer your question, he is well known to me. Gegdev is my father."

She lets the (perhaps not too surprising) revelation sink in for a moment before continuing. "Besides the fact he sired me, in a business-related sense I spent many years moving crates around his warehouse, making deliveries, or much later in my life providing him with legal advice before I became a Paladin. Unfortunately I do not recognize your name, though I may have unknowingly handled something you ordered at some point another. I hope you've had a good experience dealing with him and his intermediates."

The undine chuckles softly at a thought, mostly to herself. "If you have any complaints to lodge you may tell me. He will probably take them better from his daughter, though I cannot promise I will be able to change his mind."

Gemus's azure eyes seem to twinkle when she mentions possibly handling his orders, although Rudabeh isn't sure why.

When she mentions complaints however, his face grows stern and he runs a hand wearily through his charcoal hair.

"Not that it is your father's purview, but my biggest complaint would be the local bandits. They have grown increasingly bold and troublesome in the last few years. That 'Green Hood' lady, the Liacenza...."

One of the other guests, a fellow Trade House leader looks up in shock. With a hiss he says, 'Quiet, Gemus. You know that name is forbidden!"

Tolmara, with ears like a cat apparently, joins in, "Oh, something banned?" The way she stresses the last word is almost like a purr.

Irovetti, who seemed to not be paying attention breaks in, "We will not talk of bandits at a feast. This is a time of hospitality and good-will, not a time to gripe over minor trade inconveniences." The words, although light, thoroughly chastises Gemus who shuts up.

Other plans for this feast? It seems to be winding down.

Gemus' twinkling eyes unnerve her a little bit. Does everyone at this feast have something to hide?

The following exchange and hushing from many sides causes Rudabeh to look about in momentary confusion. It was also disturbing how Tolmara seemed to materialize out of nowhere, suddenly very interested in the conversation. The "Green Hood" Liacenza? Her name is... Banned from being spoken? I don't see how that helps solve their bandit problem. The only way to combat bandits in the River Kingdoms is armies and mercenaries. "You have what you hold" after all.

The mention of bans does remind her of her duty, however. Raising a gauntleted fist to her mouth, Rudabeh clears her throat and changes the subject, addressing Irovetti. "Excuse me Irovetti, but do you have any written materials on the rules and regulations of the upcoming games? Any other summaries of common or statutory law would do as well. It would behoove me to familiarize myself with your local laws."

Hmmm nope, other than eating some more. I was going to ask Zadie if he had a preferred day he would like Rudabeh to visit but I assume he would have indicated such a thing when I last talked to him. Midnight might mean tonight, but she doesn't know her way around the city and probably can't get out. Zadie didn't seem too hung up on a specific day, though.

The king of Pitax shurgs, "Most of the games are self explanatory. Archery contests, running races and such do not require reams of rules. However, your point is well taken." he turns to Druxan and says, "Arrange for a local advocate to accompany Rudabeh when she makes her rounds over the course of the event. See it is someone capable."

He smiles to Rudbaeh, "You can refer any fine points of local law to them. Put your mind at ease, although your commitment to duty becomes you."

As the tojandi is finished, the feast begins to wind down. Everyone stacks the dirty bowls and plates for the servants to whisk away, and sweet creams are brought out for dessert. In apparent local custom the guests take these with them, to eat on the journey home.

The Trade Houses bow respectfully and head off, while the artists retire with more grand farewells and dramatic sweeping bows.

After much polite debate the adventurers decide to lodge at the Calistrian temple, much to the obvious dismay of the High priest (and the equal delight of the younger priests and acolytes). For them the revelry seems to just be getting started and Rudabeh gets the feeling Tolmara will not be retiring anytime soon.

Soon it is just Rudabeh and Irovetti alone in the room, Druxan off seeing the guests down the hallways of the palace. The old man shrugs and wearily leans on his cane.

"You will be staying in the palace of course. I have a suite of rooms set aside for you, on the second floor, the finest. It is quiet and private, as befitting a guest of your station. Guards have been posted outside to prevent unintended guests."

Rudabeh is very pleased to be assigned a local advocate, and it projects through her voice. "That is wonderful, thank you. It is a hobby of mine to study and stay abreast on both statutory and common law in the River Kingdoms, so I look forward to conversing with this official."

No stranger to feasts, Rudabeh had strategically saved room for dessert- and was rewarded for her patience with sweet cream. Though not particularly fond of sweets (sour pies such as rhubarb were preferred), it was a nice change of pace for her pallette.

The undine's ultramarine tongue flicks over the sweet cream while she listens to the adventures' debate, amused at the priestess' reaction. Rudabeh had been invited to Calistra ceremonies more than once, considering the popularity of the goddess and the paladins own association as an arbiter of faiths. She attended once out of open-minded curiosity, but politely declined to participate directly on arriving. Instead she was coerced into juding ... contests...? the highly creative worshippers devised. With a shake of her head she dispels the myriad of admittedly fascinating images her mind acquired that night.

When just Irovetti and Rudabeh were left in the hall, the King would find her admiring one of the many fireplaces providing heat and light to the room. She turns to the older man, who was, perhaps purposefully, showing his weariness. "That sounds delightful. I very much look forward to sleeping in a comfortable bed after weeks on the river. On that note, thank you for the great honors and hospitality you have bestowed on me thus far, Irovetti. Given my humble function I would not have been amiss at being put up in an inn, but you have shown me many great kindnesses."

Ooh, ultramarine. Very fancy.

Irovetti looks stunned when Rudabeh mentions an inn. "Put an authorized representative of the Pact of Years in an inn? That would not only insult you and the organization you stand for, but myself and all of Pitax. How could we hold our heads high among our brother kingdoms if we stabled the likely heir to the Pact like a common mule? An inn....Unthinkable. Absurd."

With a shake of his head, he taps his bejeweled waling stick on the ground. The stones of amaranth and emerald gleam in the subdued firelight of the Lodge. On cue a servant's door open and an older man shuffles in, slightly stooped with age, face lined with heavy wrinkles.

"See the paladin of Alseta to her room. Make sure she is comfortable there." With a nod of the head Irovetti leaves, striding out the main door.

The old servant bows as deeply as an obviously stiff back will allow him, 'Does the mistress need anything from the kitchens before we go? I can have them make a plate for you, if you feel the need in the night. Otherwise, allow me to lead you to your room." His robes, Rudabeh notices, are a very ugly shade of puce.

I figured I'd take the offensive on the whole uncommmon colors thing.

Rudabeh finds herself amused at Irovetti's reaction, smiling softly. "We seem to have very different ideas on what constitutes an insult, but I take your point. It is flattering you hold a representative of the Pact in such high regard."

While the king summons a servant she looks at the glittering jewels of his scepter. I do not know why it is so easy for me to forget that Veleda has chosen me as her successor. Everyone keeps reminding me, but I keep putting myself forward as only a Paladin of Alseta. Should I change? No, something about being anyone else but myself doesn't feel right.

Rudabeh returns the servant's bow with a small nod of her head. "No thank you, I am quite full. Though please, call me Rudabeh. Your name is?" She introduces herself to the old man respectfully, matching his speed as they make their way through the palace. Limpid eyes fall on his robes for a moment, and she looks away before her stomach churns. I know Irovetti picked out that color... but I must wonder.. why? Does he seek to humiliate his servants?

"Oh, I have one request. Do you know the time?" She asks casually of the man, the midnight rendezvous sliding into her conscious thoughts from the back of her mind. I may as well leave for the Red Crescent after getting situated, if Zadie will entertain my presence until the arbitration.

Puce?! I feel like a bullet has just whizzed past my head. This is clearly a declaration of war.

The servant frowns slightly, and stops walking. "I believe it is just after ten. Why do you ask, do you have a guest arriving?" this seems to bother the old man, as if Rudabeh was going off a very carefully monitored script. "Should I notify the guards?"

Moving along

Rudabeh sees the guards next, as they cross the austere hallways of the palace. They are wearing the same dark, sensible colors as before, although these guards are swords and spears instead of the heavy clubs she saw outside. All however, have the same stern faces and heavy stances.

They pass quite a number of them until they arrive at a round wooden door, which has been polished to shine. Inlaid is a pattern of golden leaves and vines, flowing over the burnished wood. The old servant pushes the door open.

Inside is a set of apartments bigger then any house Rudabeh has ever lived in.

There are several sitting rooms, full of plush furniture. Behind is a small drawing room complete with harpsichord. Beyond that is what appears to be a fully fledged bath room, with a massive stone tub carved from imported marble, with a master bedroom leading off for privacy. Off to the side is a balcony, complete with blooming plans and several small trees.

Opulence drips from every surface. The rugs are deep purple, and thick enough that even Rudabeh's armored boots get lost in the threads. The walls are painted a lustrous hyacinthine color that matches well. Each room is dominated by a larger then life sized marble statue, each a nude of various races. heavy oil paintings cover the walls, each depicting nature scenes or wild animals. Even the furniture is upholstered in expensive felts and even (a rare few) exotic silks. Warm oak and teak are carved for chair legs or bedstands.

Sprinkled in, like flower petals are various blown glass sculptures. Each one, Rudabeh sees, is ocean themed. One is a jumping dolphin, so life-like her mind instantly jumps back to her life on the high seas. Another, in a smoky turquoise, is a sea turtle resting on a bed of seaweed. Another is a mermaid singing towards the stars. Each is breathtakingly beautiful, a testament to the craft.

The old servant bows again, "I am sorry the room is not fully customized for you, we only had word of your name and tastes a week ago. Only the glass blower could work fast enough although there are several marble statues being crafted in your honor as we speak."

By the way, what's his name? Rudabeh asked in the last post.

Rudabeh finds herself concerned at the man's concern, seeking to ease him in a way that would ease herself- by telling the truth. "Oh, no guests. I have a local arbitration to attend soon. I will be leaving for a short while, but I will be returning." She states simply, seeing no reason to hide her intentions.

---------------

Rudabeh would be amiss to not notice the sheer number of guards. It was a least a few platoons worth of fighters in the hallways, and she wondered how many more were in reserve. To keep the palace guarded all day in shifts it would take at least two to three times this number. Irovetti was not a man to take chances on security, it seemed.

She stands in front of the inlaid apartment doors, already bracing herself for the blinding, overdone opulence. Again, she is absolutely blown away.

It was not as gaudy as she was expecting, and the grandeur was positively overwhelming. The paladin takes a step forward, then stops, feeling like she's sinking. Looking down, she is shocked to find her armored boots overhwlemed by the carpet. The sensation was strange and unnerving, and she felt like a cat with bags tied around its paws.

She looks up and around at the room, struggling to decide on what to focus on next. Naturally her gaze drifts to the incredible glassworks, and she walks towards the nearest.

The undine stares at the sea turtle resting in the bed of seaweed tug on the earliest and most ephemeral memories of her childhood on the sea. She cocks her head and walks around the glass sculpture, admiring its every facet. "I struggle to find the words to express my gratitude. These are truly incredible. The artist is no stranger to the sea, and deserve the highest compliments on their craft."

She is startled when the servant says there are several statues on the way as well. I suppose that's what was keeping the head of the Arts Academy? Rudabeh thinks, suddenly feeling a little sickened by the sheer extravagance spent on her mere presence. Her oaths of humility start to press down on her like a great weight, slowly squeezing her conscience.

Not wanting to offend her hosts, which she feels would be an even greater sin,, she says nothing and instead smiles lightly. "I look forward to seeing these statues, especially if they are as breath-taking as these glassworks. Truthfully, I am overwhelmed by the grand kindness King Irovetti continues to bestow on me. His hospitality is seemingly limitless. "

Turning to look over the room once more, she spies the huge marble bath. She was sure that the bed would be exquisite, but that bath... It was big enough for her to lay in. Rudabeh's entire body longs to simply fill it up with whatever would mimic tropical azure waters so she could submerge herself in its depths and drift off to sleep. But she took an oath to put her duty before comfort, and the feelings are pushed aside. There would be time to ask the servants to fill the bath tomorrow.

"Thank you again. I have had a long journey and look forward to recooperating here later tonight." She says simply, taking a seat in one of the nearby armchairs, which is sturdy enough not to creak under the weight of her armor. "I am going to take a moment to rest before leaving to attend the arbitration I mentioned earlier."

Ah, sorry. His name is Julock. Also, yeah

Julock accepts Rudabeh's praise of the room with smiles and many small bows. While a mere servant, he obviously takes prides in the splendor of the First Palace.

When Rudabeh mentions going out, he frowns though. 'Um, you are leaving for the evening? I was not told this, was this passed by the guards and the King? The streets are dangerous at night, Mistress. Idle visits are not...well, there is no official curfew of course, people of means rarely..." the servant trails off, seeming to think he had said too much. "I shall get the Master of the Guard."

Without another word he scuttles off into the dark hallway, leaving Rudabeh sitting on her plush, almost throne-like chair. She is pleased they are less gaudy then expected then ventures to imagine what Irovetti's rooms much look like. The paladin actually shudders slightly.

Suddenly at the door Julock is backed, bobbing in the shadow of an imposing guard. The man is tall, and built like a rock with thick legs, broad shoulders and a face like a side of beef. His dark cloak is pinned tightly around his neck, and a well-oiled sword is at his side.

When he speaks, his voice is a deep gravelly tone, "The streets are dangerous, mistress, and dirty. Whatever, or whoever you desire can be brought here." His tone and stance is impassive, like that of a rockslide.

Without any indication she is offended by his insinuations, the paladin replies; "I only recently received the request. As such, you are the first I have told." , though Rudabeh is unable to say more as the old man scurries out with surprising quickness. I have noticed all of Irovetti servants have the ability to gain sudden bursts of speed. It is quite impressive.

Suddenly alone, she leans her head back, which does not quite touch the crown of the chair. Closing her eyes, she allows herself 60 seconds of rest. The peace was deafening, and for a few wonderful moments nothing stirs in her thoughts.

The minute ends and her eyes pop open, a great breath drawn into her lungs. Exhaling quickly she springs out of the chair and resumes her duty. Swinging her heirloom Bag of Holding from her shoulder, she undoes the latch and activates the extra dimensional space within. Thinking of her helmet she reaches into its depths, the soft sound of her metallic fingers brushing against steel telling her it within her grasp.

She pulls the helmet out and folds her ears back, placing it on her head with practiced ease and tightening the leather chin strap.

As Julock and the master of the guard enter Rudabeh is retrieving her greatsword The Sixth Peak from the bag. Grabbing it by the hilt with one hand she pulls the blade a few feet out into the material plane before requiring her other hand to pull the nearly 5 foot blade free.

"I understand your concerns and I apologize for the suddenness of my actions." She explains while tossing the almost shiny raven-black worg-leather sling over her right shoulder, catching the end of the scabbard with her left hand around her back. "But the request came suddenly and the involved parties have asked for privacy. I do not know who they are, but I doubt they would come here. In addition my oaths forbid me from sharing any information about the involved parties without their consent, thoug please take my word that I do not sense any underhandedness afoot. I am sorry, I know it is frustrating to not know but it is the reality of my job as a mediator."

Her fingers work with surprising dexterity as she tightens the her swords strap, going back and forth between the buckles that control its length and the rachet-like device attached to the sheath that allows her to draw the massive blade over her shoulder with ease. "I appreciate your concern for my well being, but I assure you can I handle myself. I have over a decade of experience in the military and have trained under one of the greatest swordwomen in the River Kingdoms. I can see as far as a dwarf in pitch black light, and while I have no intention of littering your streets with the bodies of cutthroats I will not hesitate to reduce their number if they choose to foolishly attack me. As a fellow warrior you know I do not lie, Sir Master of the Guard." By the time she has finished speaking her sword was secure, and she throws her stone grey cloak over her shoulders.

Doubtful that she has convinced them to allow her to leave, Rudabeh continues in an even tone. "We are all commited to our duty, are we not? All three of us are servants. Julock, if a visitor made a difficult request of you, but it was within your power, would you not take pride in fulfilling it? Sir Master of the Guard, if the Palace were attacked would you not stand your ground with your men to protect Irovetti, even though you know the dangers of battle? I am in the same situation, for I am a servant of the Public. Some persons have requested the Eyes of Alseta upon them, and it is my duty as a Paladin to respond and provide fair judgement, even if the way is perilous." By the time she finishes speaking her gear was all in place, and she was ready to leave.

"I commend each of you for following your duty. But I must follow mine. Please do not worry about me. I will return an hour or two after midnight, I suspect." The conviction in her voice indicated there was no dissuading her, and she waited for them to part.

diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23

Remind me to pick up skill focus: diplomacy at level 7. I should have seen it coming but wow I make a lot of diplomacy rolls.

Nice post. Dialogue interspersed with armoring up. very Nice.

Rudabeh's well-chosen and diplomatic words wash over the stolid guard like a current over a rocky reef. His face is unchanged, his mood unmoved. Rudabeh has a feeling Irovetti hired this man exactly for his intractable nature.

"It is not a question of duty, Mistress." he finally says, his eyes fixed on her blade. It is obvious the presence of such a considerable weapon puts the m an on his guard, and Rudabeh detects the slight loosening of the knees, the ever-so slightly wider stance, that shows a fighter preparing himself for explosive violence.

"It is a matter of security. The First Palace is a fortress at night. The windows are shut, the doors bolted, and guards posted. As I said, the city is dangerous and it is my job to protect this place, and that cannot be done when there is coming and going."

His body language does not shift when Rudabeh stands up and uses firm words. Although the undine is a shade taller then the dark-skinned man, he gives no ground.

"Opening the gate will require explicit permission from the King. He has retired for the evening but I could go to him. Is that what you demand?"

Julock seems to be doing his best to melt into the stone floor, quite uncomfortable.