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:: Darivan Orlovsky ::
Hearing how the arm achieved its admittedly eye-catching effect immediately cools Darvan's interest in getting his tattoo to do the same; the idea of running lightning through his head and hoping it doesn't cook his brains is, understandably, just a bit much bit much for the sake of one's appearance. "Ah, well, that certainly was a bit good of fortune on your part then. Miscast spells are rarely so forgiving," he replies with an understanding tone. Then the young man's name registers, and Darvan visibly perks up. "Darivan? As in, Darivan Orlovsky of the Auram Chain? If so, this is certainly a convenient encounter. My name is Darvan Singra, and I was actually on my way to look for you just now." Before going further, the paladin takes the time to incline his head politely to the others pointed out by Darivan, seeing nothing odd in the slightest in greeting a bird and a blade, since the effort was made to introduce them. "I am currently in the service of Theodric Valtrava, one of the captains of the Dashing Harvesters, and we're spending some time today introducing ourselves to various groups included in the expedition to the Southlands. In part for the sake of politeness, and in part for learning more about folk we might be trusting our lives to."
Looking around the Square as the light steadily fades, Darvan frowns in thought. "Perhaps we should continue this someplace more pleasant than here? I don't much enjoy having metal frozen into my skin," he adds with a laugh and finger pointed at some of his piercings. "The frost bite is bad enough, but they itch quite fiercely when they're thawing out, and even I find that just a touch distracting." Gesturing to the west, he continues. "If you don't mind close quarters in an admittedly comfortable Varisian traveling wagon, we can go to the Harvesters' camp. Or we can go to where your group is currently residing if that would be more to your liking?"
"Darvan and Darivan? This will be fun." Sylvia grins. The bird on her shoulder nods sagely.
”Indeed I am. Sir Darivan Daidal Orlovsky the Third of the Auram Chain, gods, I hate my full name, at your service. It makes no difference to me where we might converse, good sir. Our inn is on the north side of town, close to the Northern Schools, but also near the Grand Theater. If your caravan is closer, we can go there, but all told, it is your decision. But I seem to be at something of a disadvantage here. You seem to know me, but I am afraid I have not heard of you. What sorts of adventurers are with the Dashing Harvesters? By your response, I presume you have had at least some experience with miscast spells, and, by your tattoo, you are a divine caster of Irori. Priest? No…. if you were a cleric, you likely would have prayed to the Master of Masters for protection from the cold. Judging by your apparel, I would guess you’re much more interested in combat. Paladin? Yes… that seems appropriate.”
Okay, so this seemed like a good time to show off the deduction skills of Darivan and Sylvia combined, and here are the dice rolls to back it up! Remember, Darivan and Sylvia (on account of the Bonded Mind feat), can pass secret messages instantly and with no chance of detection. And it’s easy for Gwaihir to whisper to Sylvia.
Perception rolls to see:
+10 base bonus in Per, +2 for having Ardafax at hand
+4 base per, +2 for Gwaihir being within arm’s reach, +3 for visual checks in bright light (it’s bright on account of Darivan’s arm)
+8 for being a falcon, +10 base bonus
Sense Motive to observe:
+1 base, +2 for having Ardafax at hand
-1 base, +2 for Gwaihir being within arm’s reach
Knowledge (religion) for various tidbits on Irori:
Then Knowledge (arcana) for spell knowledge:
And spellcraft if that didn’t cut it:
Intelligence checks to put it all together:
And Wisdom, if that wasn’t enough:
...and, with any luck, I just used up all of my bad rolls for the campaign. Still, with Aid Another x2, it should be enough for brilliant deductions.
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:: Darivan Orlovsky ::
Darvan grins broadly as he listens to Darivan rapidly, and quite accurately, use what knowledge is available to him to identify Darvan's calling. "You are quite correct, I am a champion of the Master of Masters, though not a part of the regular order. Unlike my brethren, I seek my own path to enlightened perfection, with the blessings of the Enlightened One." Sparing the Square another glance, Darvan nods toward the north of the city. "Come, let us go to this inn of yours. I will possibly have time to seek out one or two more groups after our meeting, and see no purpose to wasting time in traveling back to camp and then to Restov once more. And this will spare yourselves a rather unpleasant walk back in the dark and cold as well." Then Darvan pauses and looks Darivan and Sylvia over more closely. "Though I've a hunch that neither of those things may be all that much of an issue for either of you."
As they leave Red Table Square, Darvan explains a bit about the Dashing Harvesters and their goals. "The Harvesters existed before Theodric and myself joined, and the founders came togther for the purpose of founding a school where students could learn the arts of war. Not what they teach aspiring swordlords, mind, but the more practical elements. And alongside that, the fundamentals of command, strategy and tactics, and the ever-popular subject of logistics as well." In no particular hurry, Darvan follows Darivan's lead through streets lit by torches and the eerie glow of the other man's magic-blasted limb as he continues his brief history of the Harvesters. "Such things do not simply pay for themselves, naturally, nor do students simply appear in a puff of smoke on command. So, to gain funds and reputation needed for their grand endeavor, and to demonstrate their grasp of what they wished to teach, the Dashing Harvesters were established to hunt bandits plaguing Brevoy and neighboring lands alike."
:: Lyda ::
Almost right after you ask about 'Żonka', it pops into your head that it's a particularly polite way of addressing someone, a 'lady by courtesy' term that a couple of people have said to you from time to time. "No, my name's Alysandra," replies the female as her destination becomes clarified as being the stables. "Alysandra Janus. I'm with the IB, the International Businessmen; we've been retained by King Kowalskiy to take care of the household's primary transportation needs - among other things."
Pulling open one of the stable doors, a visible gout of warm, moist air billows out from the inside; she goes in and, presuming you follow, leads you through a maze of wagons packed so tightly into the stable's sizeable passage you can barely get through there; occasionally ducking under a wagon or three is a necessity. "So for the moment, I live here - at least until we finally get out onto the road. More to the point, I'm the king's legal advice, so if you have a question about the oath ..." The two of you finally break free of the tightly-packed wagons, to enter what amounts to temporary living quarters for thirty-odd people. Drawing back her hood, the red-haired woman reveals the mildly-pointed ear and human cast to her features that help indicate her half-elven race. "I'm the one you'd want to ask."
:: Lyda ::
The 'Zonka' part is cultural, not courtly - Lyda being more-or-less generally asocial, she might only recall it after a moment, the way I posted above. So nicely done RP on your part. :)
:: Amavin ::
While the fully-female staff is, essentially, a coincidence - that the place is the most elite in town is more to the point - the rest of Amavin's thoughts are rather spot-on: the merchants are using the wealth they possess, not only to present a united and powerful front to those others in the community who are watching, but also to make sure that Amavin knows she's an employee, not a partner.
At the request for a seat for Ishana, there is some hemming and hawing between the four (Romanov only watching Amavin and, after a few moments, giving a slight upwards twitch of one corner of his mouth) before Datsenko finally stomps his walking stick on the floor and orders Groza (seated across from him, and looking a little poleaxed the way he always does by Amavin's beauty and poise), "Well, ask for a stool for the the poor woman, Sandu, don't be a lump."
Once a simple stool is provided (a matter of a few moments), the five of them listen intently to Amavin's analysis. "Hm, hm, hm," grunts Tovornik. "Noticed that ourselves, king's making sure he has the right people from the right places. Not sure that'll cause problems for him --"
"-- but it might for those of us who were selected," old Datsenko states, who then looks at Ishana. "Best you ward your mistress closely, girl; there'll be thugs in the streets the next few nights. Carry your weapon openly and well, make no bones about being willing to lay out someone who tries you."
Romanov's cool, thoughtful gaze never leaves Amavin's face.
:: Amavin ::
Sense Motive DC 15 or Perception DC 23 to notice/spot the fact that it's Dima Romanov who makes the decision to allow Ishana the stool. And yes, essentially they do want to remind Amavin that she's a hireling and their 'social presence', not actually 'one of them'. The club "Mậtong Nốtđốt" is the very best in town, by a good two or three steps; it's a full five-star establishment in a town where the next best ones have only earned three and a half. So keeping Amavin in her place is not the only reason they're meeting where they are, but it's one of them.
:: Bartek ::
If you're going to send people out to find information, please make the necessary rolls - since they're going out as groups, one roll per group - and don't force me to go digging through your followers to find the people and their skills.
I'll let you know what they find out the next time you meet up with them. Which reminds me ...
:: Yuri Magrar ::
Please let me know when your people return.
:: Darivan Orlovsky ::
Trust me, shoulda gone with the at-will thing. ;) Note that falconry equipment (gauntlet / shoulder perch) is essentially the equivalent of medium armor in thickness and bulk; this is the sort of thing I'll hand-wave, though. ;) Equipment purchase is fine. You should definitely have accessable a list of what is stored where; that will actually come in handy in the next scene.
Note, though, that by doing what you've done, people do not like dealing personally with either Darivan or Sylvia, and people who notice them will give them considerable personal space on the street; Sylvia's effect is less, unless the people notice her hair (which, if she has her hood down, they will automatically do).
Regarding your later rolls and roleplay:
First, as stated previously in regards to your characters, your version of the 'Bonded Mind' feat is not telepathy or without a chance of detection; just not with a chance of being overheard, meaning 'understood'. In order to transfer information the two have to glance at each other, give minute but detectable expressions, gestures, and other nonverbal cues; as I said when first discussing the feat, it is essentially a form of the 'Secret Messages' use of Bluff which doesn't require speech, but which does require a certain amount of interaction. If you want to be undetected, you'll need to make Bluff checks to provide an opposed DC to try to dodge others using Perception and Sense Motive to notice you two communicating. And I'm sorry, but if you don't put at least hints of this interaction in your RP, I'll require you to change it out for some other teamwork feat.
Second, Gwaihir's speak with master is not something that can be whispered; hawks and falcons do 'mutter', but it's something that's audible within conversational distance. This communication, on the other hand, isn't something that anyone besides someone with a 'tongues' spell or better can comprehend. That includes Darivan; if Gwaihir recognizes something (such as with that stellar KS: Arcana roll), Darivan would have to wait for Gwaihir to mutter and grumble on Sylvia's shoulder, and then glance at her to see her little eye rolls and lip twitches and slight shrugs and whatever else you might write her up as using to get information to you.
Third, Perception:
Darivan only gets the +2 when Ardafax is in hand, i.e. drawn. Having his hand on the sword's hilt while the blade is in its sheath does not count. Ditto for Sense Motive.
Sylvia does not get the +3 for visual checks in bright light; a light spell counts as normal light, not bright light. She needs full daylight or (appropriately) the daylight spell or equivalent to gain that bonus.
:: Theodric ::
The highlighting you should do for OTHER peoples' characters, not your own; switching between one character and another inside a post does not require a bolded 'character name' highlight. Just write. And if your characters are in seperate locations, then post individually with them, as you have done. :) I'll allow the appropriate PCs to reveal themselves, of course.
Amavin misses the gesture from Dima Romanov but nevertheless makes a grateful curtsy in the direction of all.
Ishana meanwhile, listens politely, avoiding taking an active part of the conversation, well aware that the men considered her Amavin's lacky. At the mention though of danger on the streets, she cannot resist.
"I wouldn't worry sirs, I wouldn't mind getting into a bit of rough and tumble with the odd thug in the meantime - either way, I'm sure that between the two of us we can handle the fearsome criminal underworld."
Amavin allows herself an amused smile, before cutting off her friend with a sharp look - not designed to cause the younger women offence, but to remind her of the standing her employers gave them.
As Ishana breaks off, Amavin directs her gaze back towards the men, lingering a little on Romanov. [b]"I'm sure that my insights - though valuable - echo your own, and therefore, I'm sure that I wasn't called here to mirror your own thoughts. Did you have a particular task for me at the moment, or a course of action to follow?"[b] she inquires, certain that there is more to the initial meeting.
::The Inn With the Steel Fists::
Locating the Inn where the Steel Fists are staying, Aramil enters, looking about. Seeing several adventuring types about the room, Aramil approaches the bar and says, "Excuse me, could I have an ale? I am looking for the leader of the Steel Fists. Might you know which is he?"
::Theodric::
The inn seems to be populated entirely with Elves, who glance at you before looking away. One, however, dressed in a plain outfit with a bird on her shoulder approaches you.
"Goid evening to you. I'm Calaida Wellys, Aramil's cousin. He isn't here at the moment, nor is his second, Porablum. Can I take a message for him?"
::Anton Rabinoff::
Locating the Restless's location, Porablum wanders in and looks about before saying, "Pardon me, but I'm looking for Anton Rabinoff, leader of the Restless? Is he here?"
::Tai Reen/Bartek Yaroslav::
Having no luck finding his fellow Steel Fists, Dargaryen ventures down to the the inn's tavern. They are probably getting drunk on my gold. How will they ever survive on the frozen taiga? I have my work cut out for me - Erastil save us! He sighs and orders a tall ale.
Dargaryen is pleased to see a familiar half elf enter the tavern. "Greetings, Tai Reen. You have indeed found the home of the Shining Fists - such as it is. I'm afraid most of the company is ... indisposed at at the moment. My name is Dargaryen Blanc - I am honored to meet you, sir. Congratulations on the selection of the Voice of the Trees to accompany King Kowalskiy. I eagerly await the expedition. Please tell me more of the Voice of the Trees. I look forward to our companies working together in the service of Rostland."
Upon seeing Bartek, Dargaryen will motion to the bartender. "Sir, please get that man a drink on me - and I'll have what he's drinking."
He then brings Bartek into the conversation with Tai Reen. "We must fortify ourselves for the coming expedition, wouldn't you say? Where we're going spirits will be in short supply. I am Dargaryen Blanc, but my friends call me Darg. I was just discussing joint operations with my friend Tai Reen. Which company do you represent?"
::Darvan Singra::
“Ah, I see. It’s quite a noble goal you have set for yourself. The Auram Chain is similar, though we teach that the highest calling is finding your own path to perfection. For some that’s combat, for others it is answering the call of the divine, unlocking the mysteries of the arcane, or rediscovering the answers to ancient riddles. Lysferram.” Darivan pulls something out of his pocket as he talks- a smooth, round pebble. He concentrates for a moment and rubs the stone with his last word. As he does so, the glowing lines on his arm fade away, the light on his hand dims, and the pebble begins to shine in the same light. He slips the stone into his backpack, leaving the street lit only by the streetlights. As he does this, Gwaihir leaps off Sylvia’s shoulder, flying up and out of sight.
“But it seems like you understand that. That, by itself, is something of a rarity. Usually, people look at our group of “monks”- most of us, in fact, train in something other than unarmed combat- and see only a potential threat in our martial training. We were chased out of Brevoy some years back, and our new home… isn’t the most hospitable. When Sylvia and I arrived, it was on the brink of failure. We helped a little bit, but the only way it can have a future is to find a new home. “
You notice that his left hand is resting on the grip of his sword, but not in a threatening way. It seems to simply be a comfortable place for his hand to rest, and that he’s ready to draw his blade at a moment’s notice is mere coincidence.
Are you good with me sticking spell words into a conversation? It’s the sort of thing Darivan would do, not pausing at all while casting a spell. I just thought I ought to clear that up. (I’m trying to get everything that I have questions about/might be an issue out of the way now, so they don’t come up later when it might actually have an impact on the world.)
The pebble is just that- a smooth river rock he picked up some time ago that he uses as a subject for his light when he wants it extinguished from his hand. Gwaihir is just flying up above the group, looking for trouble. It’s become almost second nature for them to be on guard, especially at night in a strange city. While they don’t expect anything to go wrong, they frequently live by the motto of “plan for the worst, hope for the best.” As such, while not in full paranoia-mode (Sylvia isn’t wearing her ioun stones, for example), they are fully aware that they could be attacked whenever, a habit forced into them after years of adventuring, monster hunting, and guarding the Auram Chain from attacks. (Once burned, twice learned, after all)
As such, Gwaihir’s perception check to notice anything suspicious, or anybody looking shady or threatening:
Sylvia and Darivan trust the falcon's eyes far more than they do their own, and don't bother looking terribly hard for anything themselves.
::Dargaryen Blanc/Tai Reen/Bartek Yaroslav::
Upon hearing a gentlemen introduce himself as a member of the Steel Fists, Aramil turns and says, "Pardon the interruption, but did you say you were with the Steel Fists? I'm Aramil Wellys, leader of...Mageford." He says the name of the group with a bit of a grimace, as though not enthused to mention it.
::Tai / Dargaryen / Bartek / Aramil::
"Well met, Gentlemen, Miss," Tai says, settling in and offering a poite bow.
"And to each of you, on behalf of the Voice of Trees, congratulations on your selection." He was no bon vivant, but he'd gone out of his way to pick up the social customs during his time training with Acaciano's mother.
"I'll admit Bartek, and Aramil, you've got me at a disadvantage; I don't believe I know much about your companies, either." Tai flags down the bartender and silently orders a drink, gesturing to the man behind the bar, then continues seamlessly.
"Now Darg's 'Steel Fists' here, we saw them earlier today, and when we realized they followed Erastil, well, we figured we'd have a lot in common. And since we'll all be in this together, best to start off with good relations, eh?" As Tai's drink arrives, he tosses the barkeep a coin and he takes a sip.
"We're a good folk, us who speak for the Green. A hardy folk, and well-seasoned. There's a lot you learn in a city like this, sure, but most of our company, we've taken our lessons from the Wilds, and that's a perspective we're sure the King will be needing as we go along."
Tai smiles confidently, "Our company itself- we're led by a trio of Druids. Acaciano, who was with me earlier in the square today, is our leader. You can't miss him; he's the one who turns into a tree." Tai chuckles, then finishes. "Pine, a gnome, and Jem, a halfling, are the others. You'll have a chance to meet them soon, I should think. They're a interesting pair, those two. Don't take anything Pine says too seriously, he's....well he's playful even as far as gnomes go. And Pine, well, she's as bookish a Druid as you'll find, if you believe that. And me, well, let's just say I'm not a bad guide, and I'm not so bad with a sword either."
"Now do tell, what of your yourselves?"
::The Voice of Trees::
"Come in, come in! The Dashing Harvesters, eh? Been quite a while since I've seen a Harvester I'd consider 'dashing'. Ha! But you're welcome here all the same." a voice calls down to the girls from the upper branches of a large tree that happens to be sitting in the middle of the camp. After a moment, Acaciano drops from his perch among the branches -a good seat from which to watch the camp and the surroundings- and lands at the base.
"Thanks, Heartwood," he says patting the trunk of the tree as he walks to greet Lillana and Seria and invite them into the camp. Heartwood, for his part, slowly moves off in the other direction, seeking his bare patch of earth.
"Now let's see. What exactly can I do for you, ladies? I can't imagine you walked all the way out here just to visit my Treant friend. Do tell me about yourselves, and you company. And, of course, congratulations on your being picked." Acaciano says with a genuine smile.
After the meeting is over Aolis and Nakir leave. He had hoped his comrades would take his warnings to heart. He supposed with that out of the way he should check in on his fellow mages, no doubt they knew of the news. Still it would be best to see their reactions and perhaps get a sense of any plans. The Frozen Flame needed to careful how they moved, more so in a land where swords held sway above all.
::Tai / Dargaryen / Bartek / Aramil::
Darg smiles and laughs when Tai mentions Acaciano's ability. "Surely you jest! He really can turn into a tree? I thought that was only a myth. He sounds like an interesting fellow. I look forward to meeting him and the rest of your company at the gala. It is an honor to serve with such good stewards of nature. I'm sure the King will find your services invaluable in the Green Belt."
Darg becomes more serious when Tai mentions his faith in Erastil. "Yes, both I and my friend, Marlovaur, are devoted followers of Old Deadeye. I'm afraid I can't say the same of the other Steel Fists. Alas, they may be better suited for worship of Cayden Cailen."
He pauses and takes a drink from his ale while he reaffirms his own decision. "But, I joined the company for their martial ability, not their piousness. And, I can assure you that the Steel Fists will serve the King well on the battlefield."
::Alysandra Janus::
When Alysandra says her full name, Lyda finally remembers where she heard Zonka before. Lord Medvyed's wife and several other ladies of the court had been called that. It had been a few years since she had been there and only the once. Hopefully Chalm Kowalskiy wasn't as big on such formalities. Her mind was nearly full up on knowledge of natural and some unnatural creatures, survival procedures, crafting knowledge and now a whole party of solitary hunters.
She follows Alysandra through the maze, marveling a little at the organization and obviously impressive coordination it would take. She only recently started learning the issues involved in traveling with a wagon. Thankfully she asked the right questions and got the runners added for snow. She also appreciated the warmer air, despite significant resistance to rapid changes either way.
When the half elf lowers her hood, Lyda does as well out of respect, showing of her own quirk of heritage. She watches everyone nervously for a moment. She was never sure how people would react to demon blood."I did. Most of my group adheres to Erastil and some, including myself, are granted spells through that faith. Our greatest duty is to him and his tenets or else we loose a great deal of our power and ourselves. I imagine you have already planned for this but I was wondering how our oath to...King Kowalskiy," she says using Alysandra's title for him, "would interact with that. Should we ever be given an order that goes against those tenets, I can guarantee none of mine would follow it and I would stand by that decision."
She pauses a moment and adds. "Sorry to bring this up so late. But I would like to know what we are getting into without all the extra words," she says in reference to the closing speech earlier that day. Lyda decided on blunt, honesty, hoping the same would be returned. She was no barrister, no one in her camp was either, and didn't want to get any of her own in trouble for that lack of knowledge.
::Tai Reen/Dargaryen/Aramil::
To Dargaryen, "I am Bartek, and this is my brother Kliment. We represent the Swords of the Legion. Personally, my goal is to help civilize the Stolen Lands in the name of Erastil."
Taking his drink he sips and continues, to everyone,
"Personally, I've got 35 men marching with me, plus the rest of the legion. We're well equipped to march for a few months as needed to support Chalm. After having served under Chalm on the Numerian border I've come to greatly respect him."
Taking another sip,
"I was wondering if any of you were interested in more closely coordinating activities to help ourselves during the expedition?"
::Tai Reen/Dargaryen/Aramil::
Darg nods at Bartek. "Well met, Sir. I too serve in the name of Erastil. Yes indeed, I think it a very wise idea if our companies coordinate during the expedition."
Dargaryen goes on to elaborate on the membership of the Steel Fists, their supplies and tactics.
::Tai/Dargaryen/Aramil/Baretk::
Tai let's out a low whistle as Darg and Bartek acknowledge the size of their memberships. "That's impressive, Gentlemen. I know that my fellows will be unable to match you for sheer manpower, but I hope we'll still prove useful, and worthy colleagues. Many of our skills are on the harder-to-come-by side of things, I assure you. And all things that you'll appreciate, allied with Erastil as you are."
"And Aramil, sir, what can you tell us of the Mageford? I've heard the name thrown around quite a bit, but little detail of your company itself."
::Tai/Dargaryen/Bartek::
"Well met, each of you. Though I am not a devotee of Erastil myself, I can appreciate the blessing of Old Deadeye - especially as we move into a wilder, untamed land than this."
"Mageford," here Aramil grimaces at the name, "does not have such numbers as either the Steel Fists or Swords of the Legion. However, I can tell you that every member of Mageford is trained in both steel and sorcerery, allowing for a highly versatile and effective group. I am not sure how well they would do at coordinating in battle, however. We are predominantly Elven, and Elves tend to do things one way. I've tried to teach them a bit more flexibility, but it is by no means easy."
::Tai/Dargaryen/Bartek/Aramil::
"Mmm, fair enough Aramil, and well put. Arcane magic is, as it turns out, somewhat lacking in our camp. We could do well working together, your Magefort and my team. Might even be that working with Acaciano and myself, sharing some but not all of your blood, could serve to help ease the transition, or at least dull the shock of working with so many new faces -and styles- so quickly."
:: Calaida Wellys ::
Inclining his head politely in the direction of the voice, Theodric introduces himself first, then gets to the reason for his visit. "I had hoped to meet with you cousin regarding something he mentioned earlier in the day. Specifically, a group of bandits some of his associates encountered. I would direct my inquiry to the associate in question, but didn't manage to get the fellow's name before the announcement was made. And the commotion after made conversation all but impossible. If possible, I'd like to meet with him later today to learn more of these bandits." Pausing, he cocks his head to the side for a moment, then unerringly reaches out and slaps his companion across the back of the head with an annoyed growl. "Mikos, mind your manners! I told you not to make eyes at anyone, and here you're doing just that." Ignoring the other man's aggrieved, and entirely false, protests of innocence, Theodric resumes his conversation. "I'll be at my camp just off of the road to the west of the city later this evening, if your cousin would care to send a runner or visit himself. Thank you for your time, and apologies for any offense given by my fool kinsmans with his shameless ogling," he concludes with a passable bow. Then, grabbing Mikos by the arm, he guides the both of them back out onto the street.
:: Acaciano ::
Seria lifts an eyebrow in surprise at the walking tree, while Lillana is slack-jawed at the sight, and it takes both a few moments to get their thoughts in order before Seria responds to the greeting. "Ah, yeah, thanks. An' congrats to your an' yours as well. Name's Seria, an' I'm just here lookin' to have a friendly chatter wit' any fellows of the Green, figure you an' that other Voice group'd be my best chances." Hearing her companion speak, Lillana rubs the bridge of her nose with a faint whimper and something about "wasted time." She then sighs, puts on a bright smile, and nods politely before taking up the conversational thread. "And I, obviously, am Lillana. I'm not a member of her faith myself, nor any other associated with the veneration of the wild. I would, however, be quite happy to trade information about the Harvesters for consideration in kind regarding yourself and your associates. In brief, the Dashing Harvesters are for the most part a group with a shared dream of founding a proper military school. They are gathering funding and establishing a proper reputation to further this goal by hunting bandits, among other threats."
:: Darivan Orlovsky ::
Darvan nods in understanding when Darivan explains the troubles his group is faced with. Though possessing little more than a layman's understanding on the subject of ruling and governance, it takes no great insight to see why an established ruler might take issue with a group teaching what the Auram Chain wishes to teach, and not have that group firmly in control in as many ways as possible. Starting from nothing in the service of a new-crowned ruler and firmly proving their value early on is a sound idea, and Darvan says as much while watching interestedly as the light moves from hand to stone. "The Harvesters haven't yet reached a point where such a consideration is necessary in their own planning, and it may well have been overlooked in fact. I must remember to raise this point when I return to camp," he says with a considering expression.
His expression soon changes to a more cheerful one, however, as he shifts topics slightly. "This venture certainly offers many propects to prove, and improve oneself in a variety of ways. I'm certain that the Auram Chain will do well so long as it maintains a clear vision of its goal. I feel a bit privileged to have such company against which I may measure my own progress." Darvan laughs softly as he continues. "My friend Theodric says I have an 'unwholesome obsession' with challenges, but he doesn't quite understand that constant testing is needed to see one's progress. For without that visible evidence, even the most dedicated can become discouraged. But it need not always be a challenge undertaken. Just having someone else to compare to can be enough at times."
::Voice of Trees Camp::
Acaciano listened politely as Seria and Lillana introduced themselves, then nodded politely at Lillana's suggestion of trading information. He made note of their initial response to Heartwood, and was silently impressed with how quickly they got back to business, and with Seria's acknowledgement of her Faith.
'A professional bunch. Well spoken, too.'
After they finish speaking, he replies.
"Well, first let me say Seria, please consider yourself welcome in our camp anytime, friend. If you'd like to discuss the Faith, I'm sure we'll have plenty of time over the months," he starts, still smiling, and turning to face each in kind, "and Lillana, your offered trade seems very fair, if a bit transactional for my tastes." He laughs, and his warm breath is visible in the air.
"A school, does sound like something many on our journey will appreciate, though I can't help but notice you threw word 'proper' in there. I've certainly got no qualms with hunting banditry; in fact, if rumors are true, then there's a few in a forest or two I wouldn't mind lending you a hand with. Exactly what, though, will set your school apart from the rest of the pack? Believe it or not, I'm not so un-familiar with the Swordlords. What makes The Dashing Harvesters different from the rest of them?"
He adds, "To be fair though, we agreed to a trade. What we want is simple: balance. Balance in all things. We support this expedition, and want it to succeed. To do so at the expense of the natural world, however, would be a grave mistake, and one we don't intend on letting come to pass."
:: Amavin ::
"An old friend of mine," says Romanov mildly, giving Ishana a momentary glance, "István Zoltán Brúst, has a saying: 'No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulderblades will seriously cramp his style.'"
"So don't get snotty, young woman," Datsenko grumbles at Ishana. Looking back at Amavin, he adds, "Yes, we do - two things. We're merchants, we buy and we sell. We need to get a grip on the people who move things, and on the people who protect merchandise. This 'International Businessmen' group, working for the king - find their leader at the banquet, talk to him. Moving the king's goods around won't last forever, so float the idea of a long-term contract to him. Second, the road-wardens, what were their names - got put in wrong at the Red Table, correct one's on the boards..."
"Defenders of the Lane," young Sandu replies helpfully, glancing at Amavin and pretty clearly trying not to get caught doing so.
Datsenko grunts. "That's them. Find their leader at the banquet too, make contact - see if they're interested in some sort of contract. Getting them both together at the same time isn't too much to ask for, I wouldn't assume?" The old man stares daggers of challenge at the sorceress, while the two burly merchants look on with interest. Romanov ... quirks one eyebrow, just slightly.
:: Darivan ::
Putting spellcasting in with conversations is fine, so long as the former is clearly not the latter, as you've done.
Gwaihir refuses to go flying - it's night-time, and he insists quite emphatically (and correctly) that he is not an owl. (His night-vision is significantly worse than yours, and him flying at night is like tightrope walking in high wind - risky and stupid.) He sees a fair deal of suspicious, shady activity, however; there are a lot of people eating meatstuffs and not giving him any!! As for other 'suspicious' behavior, he's a little uncertain about that; everyone is very bundled up, there isn't very good light (not by his standards, anyhow), and city people are not like other people, to his mind.
:: Aolis ::
Not sure where you're going or doing. 'Fellow mages' being the rest of the Frozen Flame? If so, for the most part they'll a) already know by that point, even if they weren't at Red Table Square, b) be quietly pleased, c) be poring over about twenty different very poor and apparently exceedingly inaccurate pseudo-maps of the Stolen Lands, trying to determine where might be a workable place to establish a school near a town - or just a school, allowing a town to grow up relatively near-by. The only oddity is that the gnome, Govosier Kulore, is participating but looks distracted by something else.
:: Dargaryen ::
Darg, just as a reminder: Feel free to elaborate on Dargaryen's supplies and tactics; for the most part, he has no real idea as to what supplies the others have, and their tactics are, at best, very individual, i.e. non-soldier. You know they can fight, individually, but they have no unified tactics - Ksawery and Bartok are agile swordsmen-duellists, while Gregorz uses sword-and-dagger and Roksana a bastard sword. To clarify, they are old friends/acquaintances of yourself, and with you and they both wanting to go, they decided that having a Khavotorov Aldori swordlord as 'their leader' (purely titular - you've already seen how well they follow your direction, yes?) would give them the best chance of 'getting in', so you've been with them for two, maybe three weeks. Their followers are hangers-on, servants, and toadies, not military folk (or even likely settlers) by any stretch of the imagination. And no, not one of them is a follower of Erastil. Cayden Cailean, maybe, yes ...
:: Theodric ::
Just as a reminder for your RP - even with his combat ability, Theodric is blind - he cannot actually detect anything (such as ogling) that is purely visual-based. He always needs some sort of non-visual cue (air movement, sound of wind, shift of foot, whatever). Of course, knowing your followers well is almost as good, which is undoubtedly what's happened with Mikos!! :D
Amavin gazes evenly at at the old man - not quite in an insolent way, but its very borderline as she projects irritation at his lack of respect towards her abilities. "I should think that if I can have Sandu focused on my neckline without even trying, achieving cooperation between two different business organisations at a dinner party shouldn't be much of a trial" she responds, raising one slim eyebrow as she does so. Behind her, Ishana attempts to hide the beginnings of a smirk.
:: Acaciano ::
Nodding in thanks, Seria points toward the now-stationary tree while asking of Acaciano. "Appreciate the hospitality an' all. Is your, uh, tree there gonna' have any problem if I wander over an' get a better look? Never seen one that moves without a wind pushin' it along, an' I'm powerfully curious," she admits with a slightly embarassed expression, not accustomed to displaying her lack of experience to strangers.
While Seria looks at the tree--which Lillana will privately admit tops her own short list of weird things she's encountered--Lilliana offers her most appealing smile as she responds first to Acaciano's comment regarding their exchange of information. "Well it has to be a trade for now, given the newness of our acquaintance. But I'm sure that, were you and your associates here to become proper friends, or firm allies at least, with the Dashing Harvesters, that a less formal and businesslike arrangement would soon be established." She then takes a few moments to get her thoughts and words in order before addressing his question regarding the Harvesters' planned school. The Swordlords can be a touchy lot at times, and are notably punctilious about their reputation; she'd rather not have a garbled rendition of her words make it to their ears and start trouble for her patron and his associates.
"The Swordlords are quite competent, and I have nothing but the utmost respect for their skills. But what they teach is more properly suited to fights between single opponents, or one against a very small number of enemies at most. However, that method of fighting is a poor match to fighting in coordination with others, under orders, and for the accomplishment of goals that offer little chance to gain personal glory. That is what the Harvesters' founders wish to teach." As she speaks, Lillana takes to pacing back and forth, hands moving energetically to add emphasis to her words. "The only real ways to learn that now are by actually trying to do it, which often ends with a dead or maimed student, or by somehow gaining an apprenticeship to someone who's already learned those lessons. A school, a proper one in that it has a structured way of teaching a set of fundamentals that students can then build upon themselves, would change that. And if what can rightly be considered as Brevoy's national style of combat can be incorporated into those fundamentals, so much the better!" Stopping for a much-needed breath, Lillana suddenly blushes as she realizes that she may have gotten a bit carried away with her explanation.
"Oh, I beg your pardon! I didn't mean to be quite so, well, effusive about answering you. It's just that my patron, Theodric, he was a trainee swordlord. And his training didn't mean all that much when he and some other members of his school encountered bandits who had learned those lessons. He survived, but it cost him his sight." Noting that she's managed to draw Seria's amused attention away from the walking tree, Lillana huffs and tries to keep her blush from intensifying while changing the subject. "Balance seems a reasonable goal to strive for, and I can certainly see the value in establishing early on how to deal with things such as forestry, hunting, and the like. But surely you are aware that your goals will eventually clash with what our new king deems to be necessary for progress?"
Sighing in aggravation over his cousin's antics--he may not have seen them, but he know Mikos all too well--Theodric shakes his head as he carefully makes his way down the street. "Really Mikos, I only wanted you to do one thing while we're in the city, just one! And you couldn't manage it. This is why you're not allowed back home, you know? Gods above and below, you're going end up dead, or worse, because you just had to mess around with the wrong lass." Sighing again as he listens to his cousin start offering the usual excuse, Theodric interrupts him with an upraised hand. "Just save your breath Mikos, I'm not in the mood right now. We've some time left before we return to camp for the evening, so let's see if we can find someone else on our list of folks to visit. What was the name of that latest place the Steel Fists were in the process of destroying? Lead us there, and maybe we can find someone still sober enough to hold a conversation with among their number."
With his cousin guiding, the pair shortly arrive at the inn in question, and Theodric is somewhat suprised by lack of noise he's expecting thanks to what little he knows of the Steel Fists. With Mikos still in the lead, the pair enter the inn's tavern and find a table to occupy before Theodric's kinsman goes to put in an order for something inexpensive to fill their bellies with. It's been a long day, and Theodric needs something to take the edge off of the faint headache that's building strength behind the ruins of his left eye. When his cousin returns, Theodric is pleased to learn that one of the Fists' leaders is present, and nearby at that! But before making his approach, Theodric intends to eat, relax, and enjoy not being on his feet for a few moments.
Right now I'm taking whatever opportunities present themselves to establish that my core followers are more than just a faceless assortment of numbers with a thin facade of backstory, who only ever do things off-screen or in passing. It gives me reason to care about them beyond what effect their presence or absence has on my stats, and developing them more fully might even offer some plothooks you can make use of.
Regarding the Steel Fist's current party spot, what level of quality is it in terms of prices for services?
"Heartwood!" Acaciano yells, calling to the Treant. He follows with an unintelligible word, encouraging the creature to 'Stay' in Treant.
"Have at it Seria, he's quite harmless, most of the time."
Acaciano listens patiently and with interest as Lillana expands on the pragmatism their school -proposed school- hopes to teach.
"The practicality of your Company is admirable, Lillana. I myself, and my friend Tai for that matter, briefly trained in the art of dueling but abandoned the practice in favor of a 'grittier' style, you might say. Might not win us any favors with the nobles, but hey, we're still alive, so something has to be working right."
"And you mentioned a blind swordsman? That's truly an impressive feat. I should like to meet this man sometime, I think."
"More to the point at hand though, I'm sure eventually we'll all disagree with each other regarding something or other, whether it's logging, farming rights, or something less mundane-- fighting styles, maybe. He smiles.
"The important thing to remember is that successes and failures will be shared by all, and that we're most likely to succeed in our endeavor if we all find common ground. I simply believe -albeit firmly- that we're more likely to find success by respecting the world around us. It can indeed be a strong ally. Trust me on that one."
Shaking his head, Aramil says, "I'm not so sure about that, Tai. As I was born and raised here in Restov, I don't share many of the prejudices of my Elven kin, but a lot of Elves look upon those who are only half-Elven - or, in their terms, 'half-human' - with a certain degree of contempt or pity. I do not think they would necessarily be so keen to work with you. I will try to convince them. Mayhaps they will be more reasonable than I suspect."
Taking a drink of his ale, Aramil watches as a young human walks up to the bar and orders two drinks. Following him back to his table, he sees that the human goes back to a table where Theodric of the Dashing Harvesters has apparently chosen to sit in. Not wishing to intrude, Aramil will turn back to the others and say, "Tell me, what do you hope to accomplish in the Stolen Lands? Do you merely seek glory, or do you have other plans?"
::Aramil/Tai/Dargaryen::
"Tai, if you need arcane magic, myself and two others among my people can try to help you if needed. While my magics are more limited and focus on the needs of helping allies or hindering enemies, the other two have a more supportive assortment of spells available to them."
In response to Aramil, "My plans in the Stolen lands are to rid it of banditry, and instill the rule of law in it. To long have the border folk of Brevoy and the weak in the River Kingdoms been mere prey for the outlaws that live there." Bartek and Kliment look somber as Bartek says this and they each take a drink.
Yes I was referring to the frozen flame. Quick post are a damnation. x)
Aolis notices Govosier, sometimes known as "Gov Kul" for reasons he would rather forget. The sorcerer seemed preoccupied and with the events of the day he was not going to dismiss anything. Walking up to the gnome he motions to catch his attention before speaking.
"Concerns my friend? You seem to have something on your mind."
Milo has been trying, as best he could, to fulfill Kyras's rather vague instructions for the last several hours, but it has been more difficult than he imagined. (Round up more information, he says. Doesn't feel the need to be more specific than that. He's a great man, but he could stand to be a touch more detailed from time to time...)
The halfling was wandering the streets, trying to track down the inn that he had heard was housing the Steel Fists while they were in town. (You'd think the sound of partying would be a dead give-away. Maybe they are on better behavior tonight. Ah, here it is!)
Having found the right place, Milo enters the common room and looks around. (Apparently I was right to come here, seems a popular destination) he thinks, as he notices a couple of people he remembers from the square earlier (There's that fellow in the mask, I'm sure I saw him today...), and a knot of people around Dargaryen, whom he and Kyras had encountered before. (I wonder if he'll remember me? It was a while ago...) Undecided on how best to approach the group, the halfling plays it safe, and just goes to order a drink. He positions himself relatively close to the group around Dargaryen, hoping to listen for an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation.
Also, I missed doing diplomacy rolls earlier during the announcement for the spoilered info, would like to insert those here for both Milo and Kyras, to see if either of them caught it:
:: Lyda ::
A few of the teamsters present - there's fifteen or twenty here at the moment, but notably very few horses - look a little wary at Lyda's clearly otherworldly origins, but they're all human. An odd thing, of the others, there's a dozen or more that have some very similar faces - a family resemblance - but their racial makeup runs from half-elf through human to half-orc. "I can see," says the red-hired half-elf as she leads you through the closely-packed chairs, tables, and glowing braziers, "that you're used to - or at least thinking of - a more formal, rigid structure. Trust me when I say that politics isn't anywhere near that clear-cut, and that's what this'll be eventually, politics. In any case, (here we are)" and she pauses to open up a door for you, one which reveals a tackroom that has clearly seen less-crowded days, filled as it is with chests and people performing arcane legibility things to parchment, "yes, there's an out for you. Have a seat. Wine? It isn't good wine, but it's wine. Sorry, where was I?"
She gives you a quick sideways grin as she pours red into a small horn cup, and another for you if you say yes. Passing the latter over and taking a sip from hers, she resumes. "Yes, your oaths are constructed so as to permit you to refuse the king's commands, or the laws of the land - once. If there is a decree with which you cannot abide, if His Majesty gives you a direction that violates your beliefs so utterly that you simply cannot in good conscience follow it, you go to the king, inform him that you cannot obey his law or his order, and you resign your title. Or abdicate, surrender, abjure, relinquish - whatever we decide the right word is. Hm. I'm beginning to like relinquish; what do you think?"
::Darvan Singra::
Darivan laughs when he hears Darvan say that he has something of an obsession with challenges, “Well, if that’s your goal, we’ll get along just fine. Do come find me if you ever feel like having a practice combat. Though, if we fight unarmed, I believe I will be at something of a disadvantage. My strength is with a blade and with my magic.”
Darivan draws his blade, and the entire length of the long blade is visible clearly, even in the dim lighting, seemingly lit from within, though it sheds no light. The blade is unblemished, polished to a mirror sheen, and razor-sharp. While that’s normally not a good quality for a sword, this blade looks all the more deadly for it. The hilt is has a simple, plain black grip, gleaming as though made of polished ebony, and a blue gem inset into the pommel. The crossguard is straight, with red gems inset on either end within a diamond pattern. Overall, the blade is simple, deadly, and it’s as though the blade is saying, “Yes, I’m very magical, and I know it. You know it too, and since there’s no need for me to show off any further, I won’t. Besides, I have no need to prove myself to lesser beings.”
”He’s quite the blade, isn’t he? “ Darivan asks, handling the sword with a practiced ease, with a firm grasp on the grip, though it should be slipping if it’s really as polished as it looks, “It was a gift from my master, the sword I was knighted with. He said that I could likely put it to better use than its previous owner,”
Darivan grins suddenly, as though hearing an unspoken joke as he gazes wistfully at the blade, then snaps back to attention.
”What was I saying? Oh, yes, that’s right.” He re-sheathes the blade without looking, an impressive feat on its own, ”A healthy competition is wonderful! Normally, I compete with Sylvia, but she’s hopelessly outmatched, so it will be nice to be amongst those who might present something of a challenge”
“Hey!” Sylvia shoves Darivan playfully, and he pretends not to notice the push, barely swaying. Instead, he only grins more.
”See, I’m stronger than her, hardier than her, more charming than her, more skilled at fighting than her, and, while we have similar skill in how complex our magic is, mine is generally more powerful and I’ve managed to harness lightning, something she’s never grasped.”
“Says the guy who can’t teleport for the life of him.” Sylvia laughs, vanishing suddenly. Simultaneously, Darivan stumbles and falls to the ground, with Sylvia sitting on his shoulders.
”Oof. Not… Expecting…. That….. Get off!” He stands up suddenly, and Sylvia lurches backwards, about to fall off, and she vanishes again, reappearing sitting on the ground a few feet away. She smiles cockily at her friend.
Two of nine uses of Shift used today, if that matters.
Fair enough. I’ll retract my action, if possible, of sending Gawaihir off, as Darivan and Sylvia would know that she refuses to fly at night, and if I were to go through with it, they would get quite the scolding from the bird, and that would be noisy. At this point, I’m basically running through anything that I think might prove problematic, and testing it out before anything really plot-relevant happens.
Also, since you likely missed it in all of the posts, I'll just re-ask if Darivan and Ardafax can telepathically communicate when Darivan has his hand on the hilt. Thanks!
:: Amavin ::
Though Sandu blushes right down to the roots of his hair, Gustav and Silvo exchange glances; despite their boisterous bonhomie with you, they haven't gotten their wealth by being easy-going or obtuse fellows. "If they're going with King Chalm," Gustav starts. Silvo concludes, "Then they're not pushovers."
"And the boy is young," finishes Datsenko. "Don't think I don't know what you can do, girl - all of what you can do, or at least most of it. It's why we picked you. But walk into this thinking it'll be a cakewalk and whomever their leaders are, they'll eat you up for an appetizer and drain every copper of profit out of our coffers for the main course. We," and the old man waggles his thumb in a circle to indicate the five merchants, "would rather that happen the other way 'round. Biggest fight of the year is going to happen in that room; you be ready for it."
The corner of Romanov's mouth twitches upwards in a slight smile.
:: Aolis ::
Govosier glances up at the titular leader, then around the table at the others; seeing that they're busy, he hops down off his chair and gestures for you to follow him out of the room. "Care to take a walk?" he asks and, presuming the answer is at least 'I don't mind', he'll grab his cloak and meet you outside.
After a few minutes of silent walking through the twilight streets, he speaks. "It's not something a gnome usually asks, but how much do you know about, well, us? Gnomes, I mean."
:: The Iron Gauntlet Inn ::
Though the majority of the Steel Fists themselves (meaning pretty much anyone but Dargaryen, Marlovaur, and their immediate compatriots) are not in-house, the innkeeper seems pleased that 'Vitez Blanc' is finally bringing the party to him instead of being a stick-in-the-mud nobler-than-thou holy-crusader-of-Erastil type. His prices, for what it's worth, are still typical of the type; the Fists in general are spendthrifts of sorts, but are also quick to take umbrage if they think they're being cheated, so the innkeeper isn't ripping them off any more. (Or any less, for that matter.)
:: Amavin / Everyone ::
'Defenders of the Lane' are what the second 'Swords of the Legion' group were meant to be. I'm passing my screwup off as a copyist's error - in addition to being a translator's error of sorts, as the Defenders of the Lane are now Axhammer's group, and they're supposed to be on the first list, not on the second. (Silly copyists.)
Otherwise, that'll essentially be the end of the scene, unless you want to kick up a fuss. And yes, I very much HAVE wanted to emphasize the real and undoubtedly uncomfortable 'minion' position Amavin finds herself in, at least at the moment.
:: Aolis ::
Considering his KS: Planes and Nature bonuses, Aolis can be expected to know pretty much everything about gnomes - including the basics about the Bleaching, which (as far as he knows) is what eventually leads to gnome death. He probably knows about bleachlings, but probably not the peculiar social tangle that they represent.
:: Darivan ::
Telepathy (Su): While a magus is wielding or carrying his black blade, he can communicate telepathically with the blade in a language that the magus and the black blade share.
This means whenever it is in his hand or on his person - i.e. he's carrying it in any way. I would add 'touching it directly' to that, though having a glove on would be fine.
:: Kyras/Milo ::
I'd say they both understand the subtext. :)
That said, I mostly didn't want to have to expand upon a whole bunch of people who are a) essentially in the hands of their PCs at this point, and b) going to prove immaterial (somewhat literally) by the end of this thread. ;)
:: Everyone at the 'Steel Fist Inn' ::
Note the new official inn name - no doubt either a) why the group decided to call themselves what they have, or b) why they're staying there (because it matched their name). Prices are standard PF.
He nods at the invitation and accompanies Govosier. Aolis scratches a bit of skin at his jawline as he ponders a response when posed with the question.
"Well I would say I very familiar with your people, or at least as much as one can be as an outsider. Is it a matter concerning something about your people?"
"I'm not being overconfident, I'm just aware of my skillset, what my strengths and weaknesses are - you should know, you did, after all, pick me, and you wouldn't have picked anyone second rate."
Amavin does a fashionable twirl for a moment, more theatrical than for any other reason, before locking her eyes seriously with Romanov. "I was thinking, that if the road wardens prove difficult to negotiate with - there are several other factions that could easily be interested in a contract with us - I know of several that would love to remove bandit presence in the area. Probably a damn sight easier than trying to force a financial alliance with a bunch of priests that consider it a religious obligation to guard a dusty old road".
:: Alysandra ::
Lyda notes a comparatively mild response to her heritage. That was a good sign at least. Kowalskiy's baggage train and legal council would not hold it against her. She follows Alysandra further into the building and makes a startling realization. The woman leading her was either showing her all this as a sign of trust or just very bad with security. She had lead Lyda right into the legal documentation preparation room where she could witness the spells being cast on presumably important documents. She had no idea what spells they were casting or what any of the documents said but this seemed a long way to go to assuage her concerns. Lyda decided to assume it was for her benefit and respect the trust given.
She also accepted the wine. Bad wine was still better than a lot of things she had to drink to survive sometimes. "Only the druids have any structure and its not much. And definitely relinquish. Surrender sounds too negative and I am not sure many would understand the other two." She does not mention that she did not know what abjure meant. Lydasips the wine as she considers the "out". Her green eyes stare intently at a spot on the wall as her mind wanders about considering the consequences. "Harsh but fair I guess. I have done what I could to prepare for...politics, but their isn't a lot of opportunity in the wild." She thinks a bit more but this time her eyes wander to the people in the room. Alysandra can plainly see that Lyda's process is naturally slow and careful. "I can think of a few people who might be willing to learn. Can I send them to you to study? Honestly I didn't understand a word of that closing address earlier but it sounded important. I'd like a few people in our group to help us make sense of any legal documents or decrees in the future."
::Bartek/Tai/Dargaryen/Iron Gauntlet Inn::
"A worthy objective, Bartek. Until several months ago, I was part of a group that focused on battling much of the banditry within Brevoy. My former companions from that venture are now also the respective leaders or faces of individual groups on this expedition - the Frozen Flame, the Gilded Dawn, and the Golden Alliance, respectively. No doubt some of those we drove from within the country fled south, and we will likely encounter them again."
:: Dargaryen ::
It doesn't take long for the pair to finish eating, and anyone watching Theodric as he does so is easily able make out the distinctive appearance of burn scars as the masked swordsman lifts his mask just high enough to expose his mouth during the meal. After they finish, they rise from their seats and approach the cluster of people among whom Dargaryen Blanc is to be found, according to the directions given Mikos by the bartender. Clearing his throat to announce himself, he addresses the unseen group. "Pardon the intrusion, but my name is Theodric Valtrava, representing the Dashing Harvesters. I was told that Dargaryen Blanc is here among you, and I'd like to speak with him, if possible."
:: Darivan ::
Shaking his head, Darvan waves off the other man's concerns. "Oh no, should we ever have the opportunity to spar, I absolutely insist you fight at your best. It's hardly a challenge to face someone when they're not able to use their skills to the fullest." That said, Darvan then watches with an amused expression as the Darivan and Slyvia lightheartedly squabble with each other. Unable to resist the sudden impulse to mischief, he idly comments as Sylvia gets up. "It's nice to see that the two of you get on so well with one another, it should make your marriage a pleasant one." Having delivered his little poke, Darvan struggles to keep a straight face afterward.
::Darvan Singra::
Oh boy. I was actually kind of hoping this would happen. (I rolled before writing the post) Normally, Darivan and Sylvia merely go along with the misconception that they're lovers (a fact I have yet to confirm or deny anywhere), and in fact, love the confusion that comes after people find out the truth, and I was going to see how long I could get away with it in-game.... But a natural 1 is too good to pass up.
On a side note, the dice generator in this campaign hates me.
Darivan keeps a straight face in his reply.
Well, he tries to, at least, but instead bursts out laughing.
After a few minutes, he finally recovers enough to talk, though still gasping for breath.
“No, we don’t have a marriage planned. How could we? She’s my little sister.” He rests his elbow on Sylvia’s shoulder, who simply turned aside, letting Darivan stumble a couple of feet.
”I’m one week younger than you! I’m not that ‘little!’”
Darivan merely grins and turns to whisper to Darvan, “See, you can tell that she loves me based on how much she yells at me”
“I can hear you, you know.”
“See what I mean? But no, no plans for a wedding. We’re merely friends and combat partners, despite common rumors. Which, in fact, can be quite fun to spread.” He smiles mischievously and winks conspiratorially.
::Bartek/Tai/Dargaryen/Theodric Valtrava/Steel Fist Inn::
Darg stands up as Theodric approaches."Sir, you have indeed found me." He offers to shake the man's hand and then introduces him to the the others at the table. "Will you join us for ale? We were just discussing our plans for the upcoming expedition. Congratulations, by the way, on your selection to join King Kowalskiy."
He then orders another round of pitchers for the group. "Please, tell us of the Dashing Harvesters. I was just telling the others a bit of the Steel Fists. We have just recently formed the company and I fear we are not yet fully organized. The other Steel Fists and their assorted entourages will required significant training before they can be called a proper fighting force. But, Erastil willing, I hope to forge a company that will serve our liege with honor and dignity. I intend to train the Steel Fists to be a heavy front line fighting unit that can defeat our adversaries through superior tactics and martial prowess. But, as I said, it remains to be seen if my comrades have the discipline for such organized combat. There are also questions if they have the endurance to survive the rigors of the wilderness. Alas, we shall soon discover what sort of of mettle that the Steel Fists possess. Regardless, I pledge to help each of you in any way possible."
:: Aolis ::
Gov doesn't answer for a goodly number of steps - easy for him, quite slow for Aolis - as the verdant sorcerer considers what to say, how to say it, even whether to say it. Finally, he inhales deeply, then releases the air in an almost explosive sigh. "Sort of," he temporizes. "It's hard to figure out how to explain - this isn't something we usually talk about with non-gnomes. You're aware of the Bleaching, of course." It's a question of sorts, but a glance sideways and up at the far-taller elf allows Aolis to simply nod. He continues, but he's slow about it, pausing often as if needing to translate to a foreign language in which he can't yet think. "Gnomes in the First World never Bleach - there's too much to perpetually interest them, there's no long-term consequences there - oh, a gnome might lose his life, but it isn't permanent the way it is here - sooner or later, he'll show back up, somehow, somewhere. And here, well - a gnome can live a very, very long life indeed, for so long as he can find new things to fascinate and interest him. But eventually the Bleaching comes, and a gnome fades, and finally dies."
He stops at the end of the street, just where it empties into Red Table Square, and though you can't see his arms underneath his cloak, it's easy to imagine them being crossed. "Sometimes - very rarely - a gnome doesn't die of it. They ... I don't know." Govosier is clearly uncomfortable with the idea of not dying of lack-of-interest. "I don't know what happens, but they're ... very, very strange, afterwards. Colorless, passionless ..." He shudders. "Just thinking about it gives me the creepy-crawlies all over. The thing is," he says with uncharacteristic grimness, "is that there's a Bleachling here. Not only in Restov, but in one of the groups that King Chalm has picked."
:: Amavin ::
You see (perhaps surprise) a glint of appreciation in Romanov's eyes at your movement, but the man - late twenties or early thirties, you'd say if you were forced to guess - doesn't have much more of a reaction than that. Though Gustav, Silvo, Stepan, and Sandu all start debating (loudly, and treading upon each others' words) which of the various groups would be the 'next best choice', Romanov appears to consider your suggestion for a long several dozen moments before a pinch of his lips and a slight nod of his head gives you the go-ahead - and, quite probably, permission to get the hell out of dodge.
HA! Not from your twirl. But your entirely sensible suggestion is persuasive. ;)
:: Theodric ::
It sounds possible that it could be him, yes, but you're not entirely certain - not enough familiarity with the voice.
:: Lyda ::
No spells being cast or inscribed upon scrolls, only copying - a half-dozen scribes crammed into the amount of space two would normally use, copying out the sort of thing that, well, as you admitted - lost you entirely in regards to the legalistic mumbo-jumbo wordplay that was part of the latter portion of the Red Table Square announcement. And the wine isn't bad, it's just not 'the good stuff' by any stretch of the imagination. Serviceable.
Alysandra gives a soft 'mmmm' of thought, though she smiles at your admission that you're not equipped for this sort of battle. "First, it won't be like here in Restov or, thank the gods, New Stetven, where there's a hundred different nobles demanding something or other, most of them impossible and all of them at odds with what the other nobles want. Chalm is going to listen to us. If you have a problem, go to him; he picked you and your people because he sees a need for you, and he sees how you can both serve his vision and your gods' trust. Tell him your issue, and tell him what you'd prefer. Look at the long view, work with him, and be willing to compromise, because believe me, while he's a hard negotiator, he has a very strong sense of right and wrong. I'm pretty sure he won't completely screw any of us over without a truly outstanding reason, and it just might be that if we can take a step back from ourselves, we might be able to not only see the reason, but agree with what needs to be done."
Finishing off the wine in her cup, she unplugs the bottle and pours another dose. "You have your weapons, though - certain sorts of arrows for certain prey, a knife compared to a dagger compared to a sword or a spear depending on what's best for the situation. Words," and she gestures with her cup towards the scribes, "are the same, just on a different battlefield. All those words I said basically mean the same thing - but like you already know, each one has a different attitude, a subtly different meaning, and the selection of one over another can mean an entire realm worth of politicking. Literally a realm," she adds.
"Unfortunately, I'm going along with, and I doubt I'll be in a position to help anyone learn who isn't seriously interested in the task. And I'll certainly recommend to the king that we make sure there's a ... hm. Call it a 'common man' version, to help cut down on the confusion. As for the verbiage of the announcement ..." She looks down into her wine for a few moments, then says, "Did I say that Chalm has a very strong sense of right and wrong??"
::The Iron Gauntlet Inn/Theodric/Dargaryen/Bartek/Tai::
"Well met again, Theodric. It is Aramil Wellys, we spoke in the square earlier."
:: Alysandra ::
Lyda sits quietly and absorbs the info. Usually people found her expressionless attention to be a little off putting. Normally they liked to see reactions but Lyda showed none. She was silent for some time after Alysandra stops speaking too, only now her focus was the cup in her hands. She is still starring into the cup when she starts speaking. "Twice now." She the answers the question and looks up. "I'll do what I can to learn these weapons but I have little confidence I'll be able to keep up. We are travelling to a place that is new to me. New forests, new caves, new mountains, new wonders of nature to explore. I get restless staying still and in cities." Her eyes sparkle slightly as she thinks about all the newness. "So 'common man' would be appreciated. For a lot of people I presume."
Lyda pauses for another long moment, this time watching a scribe scribble furiously. "Surprisingly, Deneb might be the easiest to adapt. He's a druid but he spends a lot of time around people. And with his companion, he can travel far in a short amount of time. I will likely use him a lot to deliver messages and speak on my behalf. I trust him in that regard. When serious, he can wield words the best out of all of us."
Another moment of thoughtful silence. She'd never lived among the long lived races but she was picking up on their habit of taking their time. "If the king will be available and open to communication then I have no further questions."
:: Dargaryen/Aramil/et al. ::
Behind Theodric, Mikos examines Dargaryen's extended hand, then rolls his eyes before pointing to his cousin and briefly covering his own eyes in a silent but pointed gesture. He then reaches out, takes Theodric's right hand, and guides it to the right spot. As he does all of this, Theodric is replying to Dargaryen's invitation. "I'd be glad to join you and your companions, though I'll have to beg off on the drink for myself. I'd have to move the mask to partake, and I'm told that, even after some years, what's underneath isn't all too pleasant to look at. So, in part out of consideration and in part because I've no particular desire to be on display, I leave it in place unless I have no choice." He releases the other man's hand and carefully--with a bit of help from Mikos--takes a seat at the table. Before he can say more, a slightly familiar voice makes itself known, and Theodric laughs when a name is attached to it. "Ah, how convenient! I just left the establishment where the Mageford is currently residing, after not finding you there. A pleasure to meet you once more."
Turning his masked features once more to Dargaryen, he resumes answering the request for information put forth. "As to the Dashing Harvesters? We're bandit hunters in the main, though we won't hesitate to quash any other threats that we can manage, should they become known to us. Aside from making Brevoy a better place to live for the folk most often plagued by these problems, we gain the experience, funds, and reputation needed for our goal, which is nothing less than the creation of a school devoted to teaching military matters in a meticulous and structured fashion. Not at all like the curriculum offered by the Aldori Academy, which covers such subjects in a very half-hearted manner, and then only in how they relate to dueling." Leaning back in his seat, Theodric makes himself comfortable as he speaks, while Mikos sits quietly at the duo's previous table, trying not to draw attention as he flirts with the female staff and patrons. Though he can't see his cousin, Theodric has pretty good idea of what he's doing, but decides to let it slide.
"We're a mixed lot as far as membership. Cavalry, footmen, archers, even a few spellslingers fresh out of their novitiates and apprenticeships and looking to make their reputations. We all agreed to apply for this expedition to the Stolen Lands in the belief that aiding the new king, and proving that we possess the skills we wish to teach others, will make founding such a school much easier." His explantion completed, Theodric leans forward, arms resting on the table. "And speaking on behalf of the Harvesters, I appreciate your offer of cooperation and aid, and extend the same in kind. Working together will make a daunting task of this scope much more manageable all around. And keep our future liege from raining royal displeasure down on all our heads for making trouble."
Theodric turns his head to the direction from which he'd heard Aramil's voice and address him now. "Getting back to the subject of bandits, however, I've been wanting for most of the day to ask Aramil about that conversation I overheard in the Square, something about a group of bandits escaping? Bandits on the prowl is a subject of considerable interest to me, and I'd like to have any details you're able to offer," he requests politely.
:: Darivan ::
Taken aback when his attempted jest is turned around on him, Darvan fills the darkened street with his own laughter. "Oh, that is well-played, by both of you. Well, I shall keep your secret close, no fear. It will be more fun that way." Still smiling, he looks around thoughtfully before asking of the pair. "What was the name of the place where you and your associates are staying? I am ashamed to admit this, but I've quite forgotten it myself. And being that I'm only an occasional visitor to Restov, I wouldn't recognize it by sight alone." The moment he stops speaking, a soft but audible grumble is heard in the vicinty of Darvan's midsection, and he glances down at it with an amused lift of his eyebrows. "And I'm apparently quite ready for a bit of something warm to fill my belly, as well," he adds over the sound of another, longer grumble from the same area.