:: Aolis and Bartek / Black Company ::
Lady Senjak smiles at Bartek, and with a gesture invites him into the conversation they're about to have with Aolis. Captain Croaker, thumbs hooking into his belt, eyes Aolis like something the cat dug up - or perhaps something the cat tried to cover up. "Kill a lot of people who don't want us to be there, or who want to take the sh!t we got, mostly. Company hired on to be the King's reaction force. You poor sods get to be scouts, and we get to be the hammer. Bad news for you is that we ain't exactly cavalry."
:: Darivan and Sylvia ::
Darivan and Sylvia have to wait for Vikontesse Comăneci to greet and be greeted by the King - he actually, and warmly, shakes her hand, and even has something of a slight smile on his face instead of the hard-jawed campaigner look he normally possesses - but they are the first to snag her afterwards. Elena returns their courtesies, then smiles at Sylvia. "Ah, Cragjumper. Is the old fart still playing with lightning, or has he moved on to something a bit more tangible?" She laughs lightly, and adds, "Sorry, old banter between Cragjumper and my own old Master - an earth-mage. Pleased to meet you both; are you part of the expedition, or did you manage to wrangle an invitation from the Mayor?"
:: Theodric and Darvan ::
"The Enlightened One. That's ..." The young man pauses for a moment, frowning hard. "Irori?" The young man takes the undoubted nod of approval with an increase in confidence, and as Theodric starts to talk about the events of his life, the young man neatly - and entirely unconsciously - derails the story with questions that are, frankly, unlike the sorts of questions boys ask. Instead of "What happened next?" he mostly asks variations on "Why?" and "What made you do that??"
:: Amavin ::
Indeed, greeting the king in person (he does seem slightly grumpy about it, but he is after all a very straight-forward military man and not a politician) is a brief 'thank you for choosing us', 'it was the wise thing to do', 'at your service, Your Majesty,' 'thank you Lady Amavin, Mistress Ishana' and off you go to let the next people who want to gain personal face-time with the king get their own brief access to the Crown.
Later on, when the man (okay, half-orc) you're looking to corral finally enters and within two minutes is abandoned by his half-sister, it's easy to approach him. It's tough for him to not see Amavin coming; her stunning good looks tend to turn heads and redirect attention where-ever she goes. "Amavin Zephyra of the Golden Alliance. I was wondering if I'd see you tonight." His eyes move past her, across the crowd even as one hand reaches out to hook a drink off a passing tray.
:: Nakir ::
"Special? No idea," admits the man. "But you rub me wrong. Shoulders a bit hunched, maybe, or looking at the guards' hands too long, a little too furtively. Something." As he talks, the half-orc guard behind you yawns and scratches at his neck. "And the search? Mostly a formality - an important formality, but mostly a formality. What it means is 'you're allowed in because we say you are.' And unless I'm satisfied with you, you don't get in. Your smartass answer is putting me on the road to dissatisfied, and I'm starting to come over to the side of 'quietly dump his corpse into the river just to be safe'." At this, the half-orc seems to perk up a bit - or at least you hear the truncheon thumping lightly against the palm of his other hand.
"So tell me. Is whatever you're doing that's making me twitch worth your life? Because to me, it is. Worth your life, I mean. Answer quick, I got two hundred fifty other people to clear for this." Paranoia is de rigueur for security people, apparently - the question being not 'am I being paranoid', but 'am I being paranoid enough?'
:: Darivan/Sylvia ::
Comăneci's specialization, just as an FYI, is effectively a specialist in 'fast casting'; she's been doing research (including with other mages) on essentially overlapping or duplicating syllables and gestures so that the culmination and release of one spell is what is starting the pattern-generation of the next. She's had limited success so far, but it's said that she has had success; if this pans out, her technique might enable spellcasters to use the Quicken Spell metamagic at a lower spell-slot cost. Her hometown (and her family's desmense) is a small town of about 3500 called Dnestești, about sixty miles north-northwest towards New Stetven; about 35, she spent her training years out of the country, which may be why she's still around and wasn't subject to the Vanishing. That event, however, caused her to become the heir, and she returned in 4702, became Head of House and Vikontesse only two years later. She has since managed to keep her House relatively clear of politics, despite being alternately wooed and threatened by both Issian and Rostland factions; her personal power is said to have been a significant factor in that success.
About the shoulder-perch: frankly, having one underneath would shred the robe. Consider also that she gained the falcon at 1st level, when casting mage armor would last only an hour. It seems more likely to me that she would instead own clothing designed with built-in protection for her shoulder and forearm - and the reinforced leather would be on the outside, and maybe designed to be replaceable. That, or else she might own something like this perch.
About the cord, just how long do you believe Sylvia's left arm is? 4' long? 5' long? I thought she was a petite female human. 2' would likely allow for most gesturing; 3' would definitely do so. If you want her leashed instead to your shoulder, that's fine; 1' is then the length of the cord.
:: Theodric/Darvan ::
That works. Tobias is, actually, the only child at the party; if it weren't for his presence, his sister would be the youngest one there by four years or so. And in regards to the clients ... well, ask me that after the end of this thread. ;)
:: Amavin ::
Both Amavin and Ishana can make Sense Motive rolls, DC 20. You can also send Ishana over to the conversation with Axhammer now; as posted, Coalhouse won't be available until rather later, though I'll run that as being 'right now' anyhow. ;)
:: Nakir ::
You can try another Bluff check if Nakir wants to try to convince the security guy that he isn't trying to do anything wrong. Be prepared to accept the consequences of failure if you decide to try.
Nakir shrugs, he was not intimidated by this man. Getting thrown out of a window would be a bigger problem for him anyways, he would have hundreds of nobles and such to explain it to. Not to mention alot of independent types that would not suffer a lie or mere excuse of he made me "twitchy".
"I am not responsible for your feelings. If you have no real reason, let me go about my business. Towards the party I was invited to or back towards my room. Makes little difference to me personally. Ether way you have threatened me twice."
His words were true, he didn't care about going to the party. He would find his fun one way or another. In fact among the so called common folk he was likely to have more fun then these puffs. Aolis may get on his case a little, but it would hardly be the first time and the guard gave him all the excuse he needed to weasel his way out of trouble with the elf. None the less this man was going to have his little interrogation making the rounds by morning. Sir Twitchy had a good ring to it.
No need to bluff when the only reason is "I have a feeling". Abadar don't like "feelings", he likes proof. ;)
::Kaellin Greenleaf::
Aramil opens his mouth to begin asking what sort of bandits Kaellin had fought, when suddenly a gnome with bright blue hair and blue dress that matched runs up and says, "Aramil, Aramil, I need to talk to you. It's really important. There's a bleachling who's joining the expedition. You have to convince him to go away and not come. It's really important. Please. Really, really important."
Looking at Kaellin and Sylvara, he indicates the gnome and says, "My second, Porablum Flapzit. You must excuse me. It seems I need to have a word with her."
Aramil allows Porablum to lead him away, and she points in the direction indicated by the Companions of Armgaard. "He's somewhere over there. Could you find him and talk to him? Please? Pretty please?"
Aramil looks at Porablum and says, "Let me talk to Aolis, first."
Aramil then goes to find Aolis.
::Aolis Greenborn::
Locating him near the Black Company, Aramil approaches him and says, "Aolis, my friend, might I have a word?"
::Axhammer Rocknose::
Sensing the conversation was beginning to stagnate, Lyda decides to move on. "If you'll excuse me, there were a few other groups I have been meaning to talk to."
::Grey Torch::
Survival was about preparation and knowledge. Nature seemed like choas but there were rules, rules within rules, exceptions and more. The weather could be read. The tracks could be followed. But you had to understand it as well as you understood yourself. Lyda had fought undead but never a Lich. So she approached the group that were rumored to be hunting one. "You are the Grey Torch yes? Is their truly a Lich within the lands this expedition is headed?"
::By the Gear::
Deneb knew Lyda well enough that her purposeful stride meant she was likely going to talk with a bunch of fuddy duddies about something boring like hunting habitat, tracks, and mating cycles. She could listen to a good adventure and start piking it to death with questions about what and why. So he decided to look at something for more interesting. He wanders over to the mannequins and checks out the gear people were bringing along.
::The Black Company::
He could forgive the Captain, some people didn't have any use for social graces. He rather liked those sorts in fact, still he did not take kindly to Bartek barging in without so much as an acknowledgement of him. It was at best rude and among those who cared little for such things, a show of disrespect and challenge. Just before he was going to respond to the development, Aramil arrives. He gives him a nod before speaking to the Captain and his second in the black company.
"Pardon me, it seems something urgent needs my attention. Apologies Captain, Lady Senjak. Our talk must be cut short, interruptions aside."
He gave Bartek a pointed look. One turn deserved another. He returned to the leaders of the black company.
"Still I feel that I should leave you with a little insight if not advice. Scouts are not poor sods, they are first to find danger yet also the first to find reward. Just a few friendly words between comrades seeking a good working relationship. I will take no more of your time."
He gives a slight bow to the pair before he moves off with Aramil to speak among themselves.
"Now you owe me one, I was working my friend. So tell me how your going to put yourself deeper into debt."
He gives him a smile and chuckles slightly. It was a little early for Aramil to be fleeing women with a taste for elf flesh. That's what he got for being a well muscled elf.
You get the sense that Aolis is not happy with you, maybe even insulted.
Not sure if we went over this before, I may have missed it. But I assume we don't know about other PCs outside their status as leaders of certain groups or seconds. So rolling for info on Bartek.
:: Acaciano ::
"So tell me László, how many of my Green brothers have you met? A fair few?"
"Well, if I have to be honest, you're the first."
Laszlo pulls his beard for a moment before accepting Acaciano's drink.
"I didn't attend to the reunion at the square yesterday, but when I entered here I noticed some uncommon symbols on some of the people. I waswondering, and am concerned, truth be told, about how, and if, we're going to get along." He pauses just for a second to give Acaciano time to think. "At Restov, I usually mantained a low profile, and the local church of Abadar wasn't too interested in me. Do you know any of the other holy people here?" With that, he extends his arm as if trying to include the whole room. "Would be nice to know them and assess the... situation. What's your opinion on that?"
::Aolis Greenborn::
"I normally wouldn't do so, my friend, but Porablum is in quite a tizzy. Apparently, a bleachling has been chosen to join the expedition. She's asking me to try and convince it to quit the expedition, but since they have been chosen to accompany us by the King, I wanted to know if it would be a faux pas to do so. From what I gather, there is a large group of worked up gnomes about this."
Sylvia merely grins. Before replying she glances over at Darivan with a smug grin on her face, See? Somebody agrees with me that lightning isn't that great.
Wait, what? You've been trying to master wind and lightning since you were twelve! When did this happen?
"Last I heard, my mas- Master Cragjumper was still around. Last I heard from him, he was back at Rimefort- I guess he really likes the place- and is still playing with lightning." A grin spreads across her face that Darivan knows and fears.
He merely sighs, knowing there's nothing he can do.
Here it comes.
"As is my friend, in fact. He was so high-and-mighty with his skill with lightning until he blew his arm halfway to Axis. I, for my part, haven't touched the element. You see..."
Darivan steps in at this point, preventing her from going off on her long debates/discussions/lectures on all things arcane.
Although, he thinks with a wry smile, we're standing in the presence of one of the few people in all of Brevoy likely to understand her.
"I'm going to step in right there" Darivan interrupts Sylvia as she takes a breath to keep talking, "Otherwise she'll be bending your ear all evening. We can never find someone whose knowledge of the arcane is more extensive than her own, so she gets a little... enthusiastic when we do. The two of us were selected as the Auram Chain's- a semi-monastic order- representatives for the Expedition, and so we're here on official business. Am I correct in my guess you're here on an official invitation from the king, and not a member of the expedition? If so, that's a slight shame, as a spellcaster of your standing would be a tremendous asset to the fledgling nation of-" he cocks his head slightly, furrowing his brow, and turns to Sylvia, "What was the name of the new nation-to-be? I've completely forgotten it."
Sylvia merely shrugs. She can't remember either.
"Ah. Pity. Perhaps it hasn't been announced yet to the public? Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. You would be a tremendous asset. Beyond your revolutionary work with speed casting, something I have long admired and appreciated, having been taught by an Earth Elementalist, you have likely learned a few spells involving stone and earth, which could save months of work and ease the burden of hundreds of workers if you were able to assist with a few well-placed walls of stone. Please do forgive me if I'm wrong in my assumption. A student isn't always like their master, or have their particular skills and inclinations."
Okay, true. I guess I wasn't thinking everything through completely for that (My brain hasn't worked in about a week, it would seem.). Remembering my human body proportions, 3 feet from the wrist will be fine, and the perch pictured also works well.
Also, why not? I might get lucky (though probably not). Diplomacy to improve disposition (I'm guessing she's indifferent, and a +2 CHA modifier?). It never hurts to have a high-level mage as a background ally:
You know what, while I'm at it, rolling to convince the Vikontesse to help build the new kingdom (have we heard the name, out of curiosity, or is it still unknown?) with us. If the king goes out of his way to warmly greet her, logic dictates, both IC and OOC, that she could get an invitation for the Expedition if she asked. Of course, OOC logic also dictates that you would never allow a high-level mage to help us out and blow all challenge out of the water.
Not bad. I think the dice roller is finally starting to like me.
::Aramil Wellys::
Aolis smirk disappears. It seemed more then his own gnome comrade was concerned about this bleachling. Lucky for him, Aramil looked before he leaped. No small credit in his eyes about his character. He took a moment to mull it over before speaking.
"Truthfully a gnome in my own group held concerns about this bleachling. It took some doing but I reassured him. Maybe the same can be done for these others. I will say this, they consider a bleachling akin to a plague bearer. Only worse, to them a bleachling is the form of all they fear and revile made manifest. Worse then any death they can imagine, almost like losing their very soul. At least that was the impression I was given."
He takes another moment to think on the problem. He did not think the solution would be that simple. Reassuring one gnome that you knew personally and for some time was one thing. Doing the same for a group with little connection to you was something else completely.
"If they can not be counseled. Then it would be prudent to bring this to the attention of the king. In an official manner mind you. At the very least he should be aware of the effect this single person is having if he is not already. He invited them and only he can rescind that invitation. The king's choice will give this matter a clear outcome without things going in an unexpected way. It should also give the gnomes a clear course of action. Those are my thoughts. Yours?"
If the king was unaware of the bleachlings impact then once aware he could choose. Dismiss the bleachling and the other gnomes will calm. Or make it clear that the bleachling will be staying so long as they choose. Allowing the gnomes to make the choice of leaving or staying and putting up with their colorless cousin. It would also be a test for the new king, it seemed he did not need to wait to leave for the stolen lands to be presented with the first. Of course something could change or happen, that was the danger. Not merely for the bleachling ether.
:: Nakir ::
The middle-aged man sighs. "There's always one. Right. Off the wall," he says, "but let's not kill him - toss him into the river, he'll probably survive. If he's just stupid, punishment enough; if he's an assassin, well - err on the side of caution, I always say."
"Woul'n't dat mean kill 'im instead?" asks the half-orc behind Nakir.
The man shrugs. "Never attribute to maliciousness what is sufficiently explained by arrogant stupidity. Wait - he was willing to strip. So, Master Lalish, strip. We'll let you go just the way you wanted. Hurry up, I got better things to do than cater to a maybe-assassin." His gaze turns to a murder-hole in the floor, scanning the arriving guests.
:: Aolis, Bartek, Aramil, Porablum / The Black Company ::
Nakir (as it happens) has not been with Aolis since the security check. At his declaration about scouts being the 'first to find reward', Captain Croaker lets loose a snort of amusement, and even Lady Senjak smiles. Croaker replies, "Only if they survive, pointer. Good luck out there."
:: Aolis, Aramil, Porablum ::
As Aolis and Aramil consult, a young human woman, in about her mid-twenties and clad in the silver-trimmed sapphire of the new King, approaches, gives a slight curtsey, then says, "Master Aolis Greenborn, your immediate presence is required. Follow me." She leads him to where King Chalm stands, surrounded by a continual eddying pool of nobles, Swordlords, and courtiers; to him, she gives a much deeper curtsey, then straightens and says, "Master Aolis Greenborn of the Frozen Flame, Your Majesty."
During the following, several more members of the Frozen Flame, including Govosior Kulore, arrive via a silver-and-sapphire escort. "Master Greenborn," says King Chalm, his fists on his hips. "Please explain the actions of your assistant, Nakir Lalish. He jeopardizes your company's invitation, both to this party and as a member of this expedition."
:: Lyda / Grey Torch ::
The closest member, a ranger of sorts by the name of Claude Rennick (who looks far less uncomfortable here than you), lets the corner of his mouth twist upwards, taking from a tray two of the small cups being distributed and handing one to Lyda. "Rumor gets blown out of proportion. Not a lich, no, but a necromancer that we've been pursuing for several months now. We lost him in Iobara back in Rova, but in early Kuthona we caught a sniff of him coming this way, so we followed."
:: Darivan ::
Comăneci smiles. "While the opportunities to exercise my talents in the field are quite tempting indeed," she says quiet honestly, "it would be an invitation I would be forced to decline. While my research is indeed a pleasure, I have to fight for every moment of time I can spend in my lab, for my position and my House take precedence. I am actually here by invitation from His Excellency the Lord Mayor, though I suspect I was ... specifically requested. Or at least negotiated upon." She gives a wry smile.
:: Aolis/Nakir ::
Really, really, really wish you hadn't decided to push it; I was looking forward to exploring Spheres of Power. This isn't a court of law in front of a Judge of Abadar; this is a royal reception with tight security, where the watchword is 'whenever there is any doubt, there is no doubt.' They don't need proof to keep Nakir out; hell, for this event they don't need proof to seriously mess him up, to imprison him for an extended period of time, or to kill him. By acting suspicious and actively defying them and trying to brazen it out, they might have to apologize (insincerely), but the unidentified threat Nakir presents would be neutralized.
Unless Aolis can a) manage to apologize profusely enough, b) convince the King he had no idea what Nakir is/was up to, then c) without leaving the presence of the king both quickly find out what Nakir was up to and order him to both stop and reveal all, d) the Frozen Flame are out of the expedition (for harboring an assassin) and you are out of the game.
Re: Rolls - you managed to avoid offending them. Info-wise, there isn't much to know about the two officers of the Company, though Lady Senjak is said to be a mage of some experience. The Black Company itself, fresh (relatively) from a conflict in Iobaria, has a reputation for getting the job done, though it's said that their methodology can leave much to be desired.
:: Aramil / Porablum ::
Is Porablum going with Aramil, or returning to the group of gnomes? Is Aramil is going with Aolis when the latter is summoned by the king? And if so, and Porablum is with them at that point, is she going too, or going back to the gnomes at that point?
:: Darivan ::
While her attitude will warm, the chances of you convincing her to make a major life change even if she wasn't a significant noble and Head of House would require extensive interaction (well more than a night, or even a week) and a lot of successes. ;) But hey, her attitude will warm!! :D
"Ah. More's the pity. A brilliant mind like yours- it's a shame to have it locked away in the tangled world of politics. Still, any time you can spend in your lab is a tribute to your dedication, and I am a huge admirer of your work. It's a wonder you have made any progress at all. Casting two different spells, almost simultaneously? I'm a true fan." He gives a rakish grin. "I won't hold you back if you need to talk to someone, but if you're interested, I have something that might peak your interest."
Yeah, I doubted anything would ever come out of it (at least immediately), for a whole host of reasons. Still, never hurts to sow the seeds early. I just went for it because I could and Darivan has (or, at least, likes to think he has) a silver tongue. But hey, natural 20 on the attitude improvement! Got to love that.
"Coalhouse, esteemed leader of the International Businessmen, it's good to meet you and to make my aquaintence" Anavin smiles, giving a half bow in a respectful manner. " I can appreciate that you have barely walked through the door, and need a moment to catch your breath but if it's not too much to ask, I would like to discuss a small business opportunity. Please, don't rush, take the time you need to settle in, but I would like an opportunity sometime tonight - assuming events allow?"
Amavin pauses for a moment before flashing a quick grin "Or am I overwhelming you?"
Azrael spent the day preparing for the party. His clothes clean and laid out for him, he dressed early, sent his adventuring gear on ahead of his arrival, all but his sword, which he intended to deliver himself, though with no intention of bringing it in, just to check it when he arrived.
He was fully dressed and ready to don his elaborate matching jewelry when Hareth arrived. He finished dressing in his finery of red black and gold, emblazoned with a wing and a blade crossed, the symbol of Ragathiel.
Hareth grinned. "You're ready! We'd better get going... we're very late. Where's your invite?"
He pulled out the beautiful embossed invitation, then tucked it back away under his shirt.
"Let's do this... "
He pauses to tousle the fur of the large golden mastiff curled up by the fire. "Corwin, I don't think you'll be allowed to enter, but be close, in case you're needed... " The giant canine stretches and rolls over to get his belly rubbed before standing and trotting alongside the two men as they head to the gala.
* * * * *
Arriving at the party, both men turned over their weapons, and in the case of Hareth, his ammunition as well.
As they enter, the herald announces them as "Sir Azrael Morgan, of the Gilded Dawn, Paladin of Ragathiel and Sir Hareth Haviliel, Paladin of Erastil, and follower of the True Path."
Azrael is dressed in gold with black trim, his holy symbol of crossed blade and wing in red on his chest. Wearing gold and ruby jewels to match, he looks quite regal.
Hareth enters dressed in esthetic, stark black with green piping at the edges, which sets off his pale skin and hair, making him appear to glow slightly in the lights of the hall.
Ishana meanwhile, heads straight towards the congregation that Axhammer is part of, and waits patiently for a gap in the conversation.
"Sir Axhammer", she remarks, when a break eventually comes up, "Whenever you have a free moment, if you could meet with my friend Amavin - she just wants a quick word."
Tomas wanders through the room with a drink in his hands. He tries to study how people react to each other, what company they seek and what do they refuse. A good and wise strategy. Only that he is not good at it. Social reunions have never been his strong point. He can be diplomatic and social, of course, he just lacks the vision and the will for what he calls the 'twisted alleys of politics'.
So, being bored, he looks for someone to have a chat with, and suddenly he finds the perfect group.
:: Theodric, Darvan ::
"These, Your Highness, are very well aimed questions. One should always have interest in the reasons behind a man's decisions."
Tomas respectfully bows before Tobias.
"I am sorry for my rudeness, Your Highness. I am Tomas Dusek, from Restov, a loyal servant. I was just passing by and was amazed at your sharpness. And impressed by Vitez Theodric's narration as well, I have to say."
With that,he turns to Theodric and Darvan for just a second and bows slightly less deep than he did to Tobias Kowalskiy.
"Theodric, Darvan. A pleasure to see you again. Please, don't let me interrupt any you" he says. "I'll be just another avid listener."
As Aramil is about to respond to Aolis, the girl comes and takes him off to meet with the King. Noticing that he hasn't seen Nakir about, Aramil shakes his head. What is that troublemaker up to now, I wonder?
Turning to Porablum, he says, "I know the presence of this bleachling is unnerving to you, but remember, we do not have final say on who comes with this expedition. I will attempt to reassure these other gnomes, however, I am not known for my skill with words, so I cannot promise anything. Why don't you take me to the Companions of Armgaard?"
Porablum nods and shows Aramil where to go find the gnomes.
:: Grey Torch ::
"That is good to hear," Lyda says, taking a sip from the glass. Finding the taste appealing, she takes a deeper drink, not realizing how dehydrated she had become from the cold and stress. "I am not very familiar with undead except the plague ones that sometimes wander out of Iobara. And even then I I do not approach them. The plague nearly wiped out the whole nation. I would rather professionals handle it than unleash it in Brevoy. But I intend to spend most of my time scouting ahead. Are their any signs I should be looking for to indicate undead or the necromancer?"
William enters the party round 6:30, being one of the last to arrive, he is wholely embarrassed when the herald announces his arrival.
After the initial greeting Winnie kisses William and speaks to him with an encouraging tone.
"Oh, come on Will, don't let a little inconvenience stop us from enjoying a taste of finery. The girls are fine, Coralline's watching them, we've nothing to worry about."
William looks at Winnie with a raised brow, only to receive a sly grin as she disappears amongst the nobles and servants, clearly off to the closest glass of wine. With a huf and a sigh William approaches, and takes his moment with the king.
"Good evening your highness, I apologize for my lateness. My girls where begging and pleading to come but the wife was having none of it. Had to calm them down you see.
They sure do remind me of myself at that age...
But enough of that so we are soon to set out? This may well be the last bit of developed areas for a good few years... May I ask, what's your vision for the infant country?"
On a side note Birchen will be Winnies maiden name, and They're keeping the kids at home for now with their nurse maid Coralline.
William also Will ask before coming in, to have his relatively ornate bastard sword put on a maniquin to display.
:László:
"Well, I've met a few, mostly in passing, but we have gone out of our way to meet some of the followers of Erastil, and they seem to be a good, if lively, bunch."
"From what I've seen though, and I'll admit there's maybe a good bit of wishful thinking here, they did a good job of filtering out the less-than-loyal applicants. I suppose we'll see just how good a job they did in the coming months though, won't we?" Acaciano smiles grimly. He's a generally a hopeful man, but he's a realist first.
"Whatever happens László, I can tell you we'll be here, on the right path. So stick on this path, and you'll have at least us as allies."
:: Darivan ::
"Nowhere near simultaneously," Comăneci replies. "But certain spells seemed to be almost designed to occur in sequence. I'm trying to see if one can't shift the release processes in some of them to match up to shifted generation-trigger sequences in others. And pique my interest? What in?"
:: Azrael ::
His Majesty the King makes a particular point of meeting the pair of paladins, as he in fact has for virtually every paladin in the party. "Kawaler Morgan; Kawaler Haviliel. You have my thanks for giving me the opportunity to accept you into the expedition. Without people like you, the world would be a much worse place, and I hope to be able to tap your insight to help make our new country a place worth living in." Corwin (presuming he's in his blond mastiff form, at least for courtesy's sake) is allowed in; he is not the only dog there, but he is the most handsome (and undoubtedly the most intelligent) one there. Chalm will make a point of offering the back of his hand to him to sniff, and though he undoubtedly knows what Corwin actually is (something that would have been part of Azrael's interview), he displays no acknowledgement of the fact, only offering the hand as if as a courtesy to another's animal.
:: Theodric, Tomáš ::
The boy turns to regard Tomáš for a long moment, eyes intent on the newcomer. "Are you a swordsman too? You stand a lot like I've seen the swordsmen here stand. Not completely, but a lot. Are you going to be in the expedition?"
:: Lyda ::
"I tend to stay as far away from them as possible," agrees Rennick. "Fire does wonders to deal with most of them." He listens to your question, then gives a short, sharp laugh. "Indicators? Skittish creatures, wild-eyed villagers, humanoid or animal forms just standing around with no care for wind or weather, day or night. Those are the most reliable indicators I've found. Once you've a sense of the wildlife that should be there, it becomes easier to identify when you're entering an area where the unliving have been established; most wildlife with a brain doesn't stick around if they have a choice."
:: William Lawsrick ::
"A good thing you did," replies the king with a twitch of a smile, giving the leader of the Shivering Exiles a courteous nod, "as it would have been a pity to be forced to send them back when they got here. As for the rest, you'll have to wait like everyone else to find out, Lord Lawsrick; wait until after the oaths. Pleased you could join us tonight ..." And with that he'll need to turn his attention to another individual.
:: Aramil ::
The Companions of Armgaard and the dozen or so other gnomes that are meant to be involved in the expedition are still ... well, arguing is really the only way to think about it, but it's a very peculiar, messy, chaotic, relatively low-key, but utterly gnomish argument - one (because of the way gnomes argue, which is virtually identical to how gnomes talk about anything else) which the surrounding mostly-humans don't seem to quite realize is an argument.
:: Ishana ::
Why the Sense Motive rolls?
:: William ::
Remember that William's shield, armor, and all his standard adventuring gear is meant to be up front. What will Winnie's 'main weapon' be tonight? Also, remember my statement from 23 December regarding Winnie:
In addition, if you don't select the spells/concoctions that Winnie can create, you will not have them, and you will be stuck with an alchemist who can't do anything. Complete your characters, please.
If you do not have this completed by the time we get to the tableau, it will severely suck to be you - or rather, to be Winnie, an Alchemist without the capacity to create any mixtures.
:: Aramil ::
If Aramil makes a Perception check, he will spot a short figure in the extremely bland grey wool hooded robes of the Cenobitic Order of the Silver River sort of 'keeping watch' on the twenty or so gnomes from ten or so feet beyond their outskirts. The figure is using the thick press of people, mostly tallfolk, eddying through the room to screen her from the gnomes while still being able to listen in on their discussion.
You may not roll a PER check for Porablum; her attention is undoubtedly going to be on the gnomes.
:: Amavin ::
The well-dressed - subtly, yes, but quite well-dressed - half-orc gives Amavin a brief smile. "Overwhelmed? No, not quite yet. Unless you have some disaster waiting in your back pocket for me, I expect to have plenty of time; most of the local lot," and he gestures with the small cup at the crowd, implying the nobles and swordsmen of Rostland and Restov, "aren't likely to approach a mere teamster like myself - even less so since I'm an acknowledged bastard, and that of a wealthy supporter of the Surtova." His gaze keeps moving over the crowd, never resting in one place for more than a few moments; interestingly, he also keeps shifting the way he's standing. "So. What do the hopeful-merchant-lords-to-be want with a mere mover of goods?"
DC 15: He's nervous about something.
DC 20: Or paranoid. Maybe paranoid; definitely on the look-out for trouble.
DC 25: His constant stance-shifting is actually slowly (effectively 1' per 6s round) moving the two of you through the crowd.
DC 30: That movement isn't strait - it's an arc.
DC 35: The king is the center-point of that arc.
Amavin listens to Coalhouse, while thinking of a way to defuse the awkwardness of her approach. "What do they want? To be honest, I don't have the faintest idea!" Amavin chuckles for a moment, it was a weak attempt at humor, but she wanted to at least keep this chat as casual as possible. "Its probably because the Golden Company would be looking at maximizing trade opportunities. More trade, probably means a larger support group - and I couldn't think of any team more professional than the IB. Of course, the success of the plan also requires that we keep the roads safe, so, any negotiation would also have to take such a factor into account - but I have a feeling thats the way that the wind is blowing."
Both Amavin and Ishana can make Sense Motive rolls, DC 20. You can also send Ishana over to the conversation with Axhammer now; as posted, Coalhouse won't be available until rather later, though I'll run that as being 'right now' anyhow. ;)
Why don't you tell me what those Sense Motive rolls were for? =]
After parting company with Prince Kowalskiy, Theodric takes a few moments to refresh himself in an out-of-the corner. Between all the speaking he's been doing thus far and the room's rising temperature, he finds himself in sore need of something to quench his growing thirst, not to mention the hunger that's been trying to get his attention for the better part of an hour. With some help for Darvan, he secures what he needs to fill both needs, and the paladin likewise takes the opportunity to sample some of the high-quality viands making the rounds. With the corner they've chosen getting a bare hint of a steady breeze from who knows where or how, Theodric is feeling quite comfortable as he slips his mask just high enough to expose his mouth. Between sips and bites, he talks to his companion about their recent encounter. "Well, it seems that the Prince enjoyed meeting us. But why didn't you tell me who that was when he approached," Theodric asks, quite curious on the matter.
Darvan finishes up a bit pastry and washes it down before replying. "It is a bit difficult to explain, so bear with me here. He is now a prince, yes? Whatever he may have in mind for life before his father's rise in status, that is all gone now. His life is no longer his own, his plans are no longer his own, and even his friends are no longer his own. Everything will be chosen for him, to ensure that he is a proper heir. His friends will be those children whose parents offer some advantage to the new king, the same with all of those who enter his company, I'll wager. And they will be very much aware of his status, and change their behavior accordingly--say this thing, not say that thing, and so on." With an unhappy sigh, Darvan drains off his mug and replaces it with another he had the foresight to fetch with everything else. "It is necessary, I'll grant. But it is also quite sad, to know that no matter how open he is to the words and thoughts of others, that he will still have people telling him what they think he wants to hear--or worse, what they want him to hear--that everyone interacting with him will do so with his status firmly in mind. And as intelligent and aware as he quite clearly is, he probably knows it too. So I thought he might genuinely enjoy a rare chance to speak to someone utterly unaware, and thus uncaring, of his status. That it maybe puts in you good odor with the royal family did honestly cross my mind, yes, but that was a distant concern. It was more about the former reason."
With that, Darvan falls silent, leaving Theodric to mull over his words. After some serious thought, the swordsman smiles and carefully reaches out to find his friend's shoulder, giving a squeeze. "Every time I slip into the habit of thinking of you as a challenge-obsessed brawler, you always find a way to remind me that you're quite a bit more. Can't think of many people that would care about something like that." After another squeeze, Theodric goes back to getting his fill of food and drink while Darvan composes himself to his state of mind. It's clear to Theodric that Darvan had some personal reasons for doing as he did, but he doesn't press the issue. Though he does admit that these rare glimpses into the mostly unknown past of his friend and mentor are fascinating.
"Apologies, Vikontesse. What you're doing… is simply so beyond my skill and intelligence that I can barely wrap my mind around it. Sylvia," he nods over at his companion, "once tried to explain to me how you were managing your experiments- we're both huge fans, by the way- and I barely kept up with her. I'm simply not quite in your league." he gives an apologetic smile.
In response to her curiosity, Darivan simply lifts up his right hand, black and burned-looking, with a small blue light, roughly triangular in shape, in the middle of the back of his hand, glowing faintly and slightly pulsing, "My spellscar. My biggest reminder and incredibly interesting. I had an… accident with a lightning spell some years back, and it left me… changed." he glances at Sylvia, "Our current hypothesis is that the electricity, as it coursed through my arm, interacted in a unique and rare manner with my mana channels, scorching much of my arm, but leaving my channels both visible and capable of directing a contact-range shock with greater ease and extra power."
He clenches his fist, and the light on his hand brightens significantly, and blue lines trace themselves out along his arm in seconds, dimly glowing, but seem to be flowing towards and away from his hand, "It also seems to have relocated my arcane nexus to my right hand, which is odd all on its own. What's more, my entire arm now radiates evocation magic, and at will, I can direct the mana flow in my arm to become visible, glow, or disappear with ease. In addition, whenever I use my mana, it also becomes visible and glows." As he says this, he releases the mana, and the lines on his arm fade and vanish, and the glow on his hand dims back to what it was before.
So…. I just sort-of defined a few traits for how Darivan's magic works, and coined a few terms for magic. I hope that's not a problem. Namely, I called unformed magic mana, and suggested that arcanists have currents of it invisibly coursing through their bodies, like blood, that enables them to work magic. The idea is that over time, any worker of the arcane strengthens their channels to the point where they can work more powerful magic more often, as both their internal reservoir (which I called the arcane nexus) grows and their mana channels strengthen.
Sorry if you have issues with any of this, but there doesn't seem to be any official source for how magic works in any supplements that I could find, and I wanted to say something that sounded good. If you don't like it, or prefer a different explanation, I'm good with that too.
Also, question: are spellcasters in-world fairly well-acquainted with Vancian casting? i.e. they are aware of spell levels, how metamagic affects the level, spell slots, and so on? Or are they simply aware of "magical energy," and not a rigorous, structured casting formula?
:: Acaciano ::
"Let's hope so, my friend. Let's hope so."
After having a sip of drink, Laszlo looks around a bit.
"Have you by chance seen those Erastil followers here tonight? It might not hurt to have a word with them."
Both Azrael and Hareth bow deeply to the king, going to one knee each and bowing their heads. Azrael speaks briefly, "You do us great honor, your majesty. Would that I had my sword to pledge it your service, but I checked it at the door. Still, I do so pledge."
Hareth softly responds by saying, "And my bow, to your service, your Majesty."
Corwin sniffs the king's hand, snuffling a bit loudly as mastiffs are wont to do, and then licks the hand wetly... then he sits, panting with an odd canine smile on his face, tongue out.
Azrael rolls his eyes at the display, but can't help the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Your pardon please, your majesty. He's just excited."
:: Amavin ::
"Professional, perhaps not. Larger, though, there are plenty. Still, I understand your position - or, perhaps, their position - and I don't see any issues with carrying their trade. Of course, I don't see any issues with carrying any other merchant's trade either; if they're looking for a lock on my services, they need to understand that my people work in a 'first present, first serviced' manner. If your goods are on the dock, they get moved; if the Golden Company wants to make an agreement that leaves my people standing around waiting, they can shhhh..." The green-skinned half-orc manages to not say 'shove it up their collective assets', but only just barely. Coalhouse gives a rueful grin, and mutters, "You can take the half-orc out of the stables, but you can't take the stables out of the half-orc. Sorry," he continues in a normal speaking tone, still doing that shift/move/shift thing. "I'm sure they'll want to hammer something out onto paper. Today's Oathday ... I'll have Alysandra go by Dima Romanov's place tomorrow. Maybe Starday. Probably in the afternoon, and then we can let the legal beagles yap at each other. I'd bet you two silver she gets the better of them, but I'm not sure Romanov isn't at least as good as she is."
:: Darivan ::
"She did, did she?" says the enchantress, looking with interest at Sylvia, then addressing her directly. "Perhaps, when you have some time - or when you happen to return to Brevoy - you might stop by at Dnestești at some point, and we can discuss your thoughts further. I'm always glad to take the opportunity to discuss the experiments with someone who can wrap their head around the trigger/release simultaniety."
She nods at Darivan's explanation and demonstration (though she does lift a hand, two fingers lifted, as he makes the light brighten), then has the grace to disagree. "A miscast spell, especially one of such low throughput, is exceedingly unlikely to shift your arcane nexus," she argues. "Oh, it's a proportionately higher throughput, certainly," she hastens to admit - or perhaps cut off that line of debate - "but on an absolute scale, it's nowhere near something like, oh, a meteor strike or a wish. No," and she lowers her hand as the glow drops back to its standard, "I'd say that it simply made your nexus, well, visible to the common eye. The fact that your arm radiates the flavor ... all right, color, however you view it ... of evocation can simply be considered ..."
The conversation that follows between Darivan, Comăneci, and Sylvia (who will undoubtedly at some point jump in) will undoubtedly be highly technical and fascinating to the participants, and highly boring to anyone who has no interest in spellcraft.
:: Azrael ::
"You'll be formally swearing later, sir knight, but I thank you for the heartfelt dedications." At the sign of friendliness by Corwin, Chalm twitches a smile, moving his hand to the head of the 'dog', giving him an expert scratch behind each ear in turn. "Magnificent," he compliments - though that might be appreciatively subtle in regards as to whom it is directed. "I look forward to working with you," he says to the trio. After that, though, he'll have to turn his attention to another seeking a word or two.
:: Amavin ::
D'oh!! Now I remember. Amavin will be completely oblivious, but Ishana will recognize the fact that the king finds her (Ishana) attractive. He's pretty good about not showing it, though.
:: Darivan ::
There is absolutely an understanding that certain spells are more powerful than others, however, that more experience with magic is required to cast them, that 'adjusting' them via metamagic increases the necessary experience and requires more power for the spell, etc. But not specifically as 'levels', no, I wouldn't think so, any more than they'd think of each other as being an X-level character.
:: Theodric ::
Drinks are small and, actually, of [i]widely[/b] varying quality, from 'okay' to 'very good indeed', though none of it is utter swill; you can make a Perception check if you'd like to get a hint about them. ;) Food is equally small - meant to take the edge off, not to actually fill you up. As the cooks in Winterfell say, "Dinner is coming." :D
Azrael, Hareth and Corwin take their leave of the king and circulate, mingling with the other guests.
Amavin shoots Coalhouse a return grin at the almost language slip. "Its fine, I find such casual language occasionally refreshing, far too often my discussions are filled with doublespeak and over analysis so straight, blunt talking is always welcome. Still, I think you're point is valid and acceptable to the Golden Company - time spent sitting around on our collective bottoms happens to waste everyone's time and money - which makes for a bad business arrangement".
Just checking here, am I expected to personally hash out an agreement between Coalhouse and (say) Axhammer right here at the party, on my own, or is Coalhouse's suggestion fine, good and valid? Would it be satisfactory for instance, if I set up a future meeting tomorrow with my representative, Coalhouse's representative, and Axhammer's (for example) representative?
:: Ishana before talking to Axhammer (since I kinda don't want to be paralyzed until I wait for him to return) ::
Ishana meanwhile, felt a surge of interest at the knowledge that, (from reading the kings expressions), he found her marginally attractive. Considering that everyone knew that the king had a relatively good eye for beauty, she took his non verbal appraisal as an unspoken compliment.
Knowing that the king was at least party attracted to her though, perhaps allowed her an opportunity to have a somewhat civil conversation with the king - or at least a friendly dialogue. So Ishana diplomatically waits until the king has spoken with and greeted many of the guests before heading in his direction.
"Greetings your Majesty" Ishana begins, still doing the appropriate gestures of respect, but perhaps trying to intentionally look a little awkward or out of place while doing so. "I believe that my friend Amavin might have introduced herself earlier, and fulfilled the proper courtesy's. Like, I know the responsibilities of your position, and that you are hugely busy, and that its an important evening and all of this, but I was wondering if now or some other time suited, if you just wanted to just..talk. No ulterior motive, and I wondered if for a change of pace, you just wanted to talk about a topic you might personally feel invested in - it could be anything - without allowing politics to get in the way - that is, assuming I haven't overstepped or anything" she finishes with an awkward smile.
Just clarifying here, Ishana has no real ulterior motive here - the truth is, she's bored, the man finds her vaguely interesting, and she's offering him a casual discussion on any sort of topic he wants to discuss, without having to worry about, well, everything else a king would have to worry about. She's not trying to get anything out of it, nor as any expectations as to whether the king is remotely interested in the idea. If nothing else, Ishana probably finds his battlefield styles, prowess and tactics interesting, but she didn't bring it up as a discussion point because she wants to keep this engagement as relaxed as possible.
::Grey Flame::
Lyda doesn't laugh or even get the slight bit embarrassed. She calmly listens and cones to the conclusion that such actions seem obvious in retrospect. The unliving were unnatural and thus nature should respond negatively. And the undead she had seen on rare occasions did indeed move as if uncaring of their own well being. She would most likely notice the cessation of natural sound in the vicinity and come to the conclusion undead were nearby, but now she'd be faster at it. So that was good. "Lessening of natural sounds could mean undead and undead could mean necromancer. What about material foci? One of the spells I know requires soft clay. Should I find a hole dug by magic or shovel and clay at the bottom, I can guess a caster is nearby and they might be hiding in a cave."
Approaching the group of gnomes, Aramil smiles at them and says, in their tongue, "Paronayk’, yes haskanum yem, vor ka mi spitakets’um hamar yntrvats ays arshavin, yev sa iskapes arravel dzhvar kht’an e dzer masnakts’ut’yan ays arshavin: Yes ch’yem havatum, vor da arvel e e K’ingi masi mitumnavor, bayts’ aveli shut, durs anteghyakut’yan. Ayduhanderdz, da lav e hishel, vor t’agavory ch’er yntrel yen ays spitakets’um mianal mez, yev yes arrajarkum yem, duk’ anel dzer lavaguyn yndunel yev zbaghvel ays khmbin: Hishek’, yet’ye ays spitakets’um yerkaynk’ov e arshavakhmbi, ayn ameny yevs mek patcharr e, vor duk’ petk’ e hetak’rk’rvel, linel steghtsagorts, yev, arrajin hert’in, petk’ e khusap’yel linelov mot e: Husov yem, vor ays havastiats’num yem dzez, yev ognum e teghadrel dzer mitk’y ankashkand."
"Gentlemen, I understand that there is a bleaching chosen for this expedition, and this is indeed a most difficult impetus upon your participation in this expedition. I do not believe that this was done on the King's part intentionally, but rather, out of ignorance. Still, it is best to remember that the King did choose to have this bleaching join us, and I suggest you do your best to accept and deal with this. Remember, if this bleaching is along for the expedition, it is all the more reason for you to be curious, to be creative, and, above all, avoid being near it. I hope this reassures you, and helps put your minds at ease."
He then waits to see if he has calmed them.
I can't even make that Perception check, so I'm not going to try.
Oh yeah, I am so diplomatic. /sarcasm
::The Black Company::
In my experience the first in the fight rarely get anything other than the pointy end of a blade, Bartek thinks after Aolis makes his comment about scouts getting the prize, a small smile creeping onto his face.
"Seeing as speed is not your greatest asset, what tactics do you prefer in the field of battle that makes our new king want you to be his hammer?" Bartek asks of Croaker while watching Aolis leave the group. "I am sorry to be talking about business at the moment, but I have my men's best interest in mind right now and knowing what the reinforcements we will potentially be waiting for are like will help me plan on how to keep them alive." Once Aolis is a few feet from the group, Bartek gives his undivided attention to Croaker.
During this conversation, Kliment is standing by Bartek interested in the line of questioning his brother is undertaking. When Bartek finishes Kliment also jumps in with a questions, "Also, is there anything we could do to help set the field for your arrival if we do need to call upon your aid?".
Always has good intentions at least Bartek thinks at his brothers forwardness.
Darivan and Sylvia, and once, even Gwaihir (though, of course, he needed Sylvia to translate) discuss with the Comăneci all sorts of topics from magical theory to a dissertation on arcane v. divine magic.
Okay. That's kind of what I figured. Also, I'm clear to move on to the next segment, as I think it's been about a week since this block started.
Also, just to see how smart they all were:
Darivan
Sylvia
Gwaihir
::László, Acaciano, Tai, Etc::
"Ah, you'll be looking for Dargaryen then," Tai chimes in. "He leads the Steel Fists."
"I could have sworn I saw him somewhere here..."
Having managed a bit of refreshment, Theodric and Darvan find themselves ready, albeit unwillingly so in the former's case, to brave the press once more. "Right then," Theodric says with a distinct lack of enthusiasm while settling his mask in its usual place once more. "Let's see, in a manner of speaking, who here we can pass some time with. The question is, whether we should seek out someone of our own accord, or circulate until we are approached?"
In response to the question, Darvan looks around at the crowd for a few moments before answering. "I believe we would do well to seek out conversational partners of our choosing. If for no other reason than doing so gives us control of the topic." Spotting a face that he recognizes somewhat in a crowd of people whose bearing suggests considerably familiarity with weapons and their use--one weapon in particular, at that--Darvan gives his friend an unseen look of consideration before guiding him into the crowd. "And I believe I see a likely prospect, though you'll likely not thank for me for it."
Theodric isn't certain what Darvan means by that last sentence, though it ignites a feeling of nervous tension within his stomach, making the recent meal of tidbits suddenly unpleasantly heavy.
Right, so this next bit of interaction will need some help from you. Darvan is towing Theodric along to speak with his former swordlord mentor, and a name would be useful for a start.
"Are you a swordsman too? You stand a lot like I've seen the swordsmen here stand. Not completely, but a lot. Are you going to be in the expedition?"
Tomas smiles slightly before answering. "Yes, Your Highness, I am in the expedition."
He thinks carefully about what he's going to say next, pulling his chin for a second.
"I could say I am a swordsman, though I would be more accurate if I said I am an apprentice still. On the other hand, what man of worth is not constantly learning?"
Pleased with the knowledge that the king was understanding of his position, William heads off to find Winnie. After a few minutes of searching he does manage to find her with a half empty glass of wine. She's speaking to a group of servants like they're old friends.
"I just didnt know what to think about the whole thing... I mean, I'm happy here. I just didn't see why he had to go and drag us all around to chase his glory. I'm happy with it in the end, I just wish he would have talked to me."
The servant lady seems rather uncertain of what to do. William can only imagine as he approaches the scene how long this poor girl has been forced to listen to his Winnie ramble about the expedition and her mixed feelings with it. Its all she talked about for weeks.
Acting as if he heard nothing William grabs Winnie and drags her away so the poor servant can get back to her job. Little protest is had from Winnie as apparently the girl was a bore.
"I just don't see how people can have so little to say! She hardly said a word, I did all the work in that conversation."
William thinks for a moment on whome he should speak to next. The thought crosses his mind to have some interactions with the leaders of the other groups going on the expedition. However, in looking for one of a home is not preoccupied he finds himself bored and heading to observe the armor and armaments of the guests... And to make sure everyone sees how finely his are crafted.
He goes finds one of the more interesting lot looking at the prized equipment of the party goers and strikes up a conversation.
"So, one of these yours? That plate'n bastard sword over there's mine. Sword was a gift from me grandad, enchanted by an old friend of the family. Was a coming of age gift, must of been 15, 16 years ago I got that sword and its just as fine as the day I got it."
:: Ishana ::
Being a military man himself, His Majesty half-smiles as Ishana starts her awkward courtesy between one set of nobles and another set of the various company members coming along on the expedition. Before she can really embarrass herself, he says in as low a volume as can be managed in a party with four hundred guests, "You did the rigamarole once, don't bother again. At least," he corrects himself with an ironic expression, "for the rest of today." He sips at whatever liquid is in the small cup he holds, regarding Ishana for a moment, then shakes his head slightly. "To be honest, I am fairly certain I would very much enjoy spending time with you, Mistress Ishana. Unfortunately, half the reason behind this" -- and he gestures with the cup at the crowd around the two of them -- "is to ease the fears of the nobility of Rostland and Restov, which means it's less about people such as you and I associating with each other, and more about us associating with the Lord Mayor, the Swordlords, and such." He adds in a mutter, perhaps not entirely intending Ishana to hear, "... not that it's going to help ..."
:: Lyda ::
"Oh, not a cave," guesses the undead-hunting ranger. "A village inn, a small but snug cottage, something along those lines. Necromancers are still mages - they like their creature comforts, and if they can intimidate or dominate the locals into serving them ..." Rennick shrugs, and takes a sip of the contents of the cup. "So, it's Lyda, right? Voice of Mountains. That a last name?" He'll continue to make some amount of conversation for a few minutes at least, seeking to gain some familiarity with Lyda and - with luck - some amount of 'familiar contact', just in case the Grey Torch need help in the future.
:: Aramil ::
The gnomes turn and - perhaps surprisingly - quiet to listen to you speak. As you do, a few exchange glances with each other, but when you're finished, one or two of them only smile (maaaaaybe sincerely) and go back to rapid-fire discussion about what they might do to 'deal with the situation', Porablum amongst them.
A few minutes later, a figure of moderate humanoid height in the bland grey wool hooded robe of the Cenobitic Order of the Silver River, hands in opposite sleeves, emerges from the crowd to bow before Aramil. "Sir," says a mellow male voice, "one of my Masters wishes to speak with you. Will you come?"
:: Bartek ::
Captain Croaker gives an agreeably nasty sort of smile - one of those twisted ones that promises that mayhem, to be applied to people not his own, might be in the offering. "Surprise and ruthless efficiency," he tells Bartek. "And fear," adds Lady Senjak in a half-aside, to which Croaker rolls his eyes. "Don't start up, you'll sound like Goblin," he tells the politic woman. To Bartek, he continues, "Technically we're a majority of mounted infantry, but we got a couple of top-notch illusionists and an assload of tricks. Usually the other side don't know we're there until they start dyin'."
He considers Kliment's question, and says, "Same thing any serious fighting force wants - information, and as much of it as possible. We get there, though, you best clear out, because when we're in the middle of battle, not all of my boys are the best at staying clear on what's not an enemy if they ain't wearing Company black."
:: Theodric/Tomáš ::
The young Kowalskiy will, in truth, be less interested in technique and style and more interested in the real driving force behind the actors in Theodric's stories - the intentions of the participants. But, alas, at such events one cannot be cornered by one person for the entire night, even if said person is as interesting as Theodric, as realistic as Darvan, as philosophical as Tomáš, or as inquisitive as Tobias. The boy, at least, must be ushered off to make the courteous acquaintance of a few others in the crowd; his minder, a relatively bland (and quiet) woman whose movements strongly suggest 'bodyguard', eventually escorts him off.
:: William ::
Winnie, apparently, is chatting up a couple of the servitors pouring out wines and ales; apparently, the Lord Mayor has some decently competent people working for him, because they at least appear to be attentive to her while still executing their duties, namely making sure the table is well-stocked with the small cups of alcohol.
There are a number of people looking at the gear, of course, though the ones most focussed on it are the artists - or rather, the assistants to the artist, the aforementioned Galtian expatriate painter around whom continues a slow eddy of Restov nobles. Perhaps the most interesting group for William will be the trio of (pretty clearly) swordsmen looking at the various items, particularly one truly massive pile of gear at the end furthest from the grand staircase's outlet, only two down from William's own.
One of them, hearing William address them, look over at the gear the Irrisen noble is so proud of, and actually smirks a bit. "I'm sure it is," says he. "But that's what you get when you haven't a real history to fall back on." His two cohorts chuckle.
:: Aramil ::
I keep forgetting that you're the mystic without a superduper PER roll!! Sorry!! But it'll work out ....
:: Klimek ::
Perception (DC 17): Now that he mentions it, the quasi-uniforms the two of them are wearing have a certain unique sheen to them; with regular familiarity, it'd be tough to mistake it for anything else, or anything else for it.
:: Darivan ::
No problem. Just as an FYI, unless you're really involved discussing cutting-edge research (and trying to wrap your head around it) or something of the sort, or if you're actively contesting something (e.g. trying to persuade someone, make an argument, intimidate them, or otherwise actually 'do something serious'), I'm usually good with using a Take 10 result as a gauge for how in-depth of a conversation you might have. Saves on dice rolls. ;)
:: Theodric ::
Swordlord of Restov Rytier Teodor Čierny, Master of the Misty Wave School of the Southern Schools. Powerfully built, agile despite it, and uses that strength to good effect with plenty of movement, almost to the point of acrobatics.
:: Everyone ::
Round 2 - start!! ;) A map of the Citadel interior is now available.
:: Amavin ::
The half-stepping half-orc gives a half-smile. "Merchants are a snobbish lot when it comes to their own cargo, mistress," he replies. "They want drovers to be waiting for them, not the other way 'round, and that's what I'm on about. I won't let my boys be sitting around waiting three days - or three hours! - waiting on a cargo that the Golden Company promises will get there any minute. Or," he adds judiciously, "maybe they can - but there'd be a surcharge. Time's money, and all that ..."
Amavin makes an interested noise as Coalhouse explains his earlier comment, in a way that she understands. "Well, I personally think a surcharge would be a great idea - adds an incentive, so that no-one gets mucked around. I don't think I'll have much say though in how things turn out though, so I'd make sure that sister of yours is present at the negotiation table, I've heard she's a flawless negotiator."
How do you want me to handle Axhammer? I'm aware that hes going through a tough time, and that's understandable, but on the other hand, its been over 2 weeks since his last gameplay post - and some of us (ie me), are unable to move forward until he returns. I'm not really keen on the idea of spending the entirety of Round 2 waiting for the possibility he comes back, so I might need a work around here. Also, largely finished with Coalhouse here currently.
Ishana keeps her posture and stance respectful as she listens to the kings response, half smiling when he mentions the rigmarole - certain that, at least on one topic, they might be on the same wavelength. She does hear the mutter in his tone, but chooses not to comment on it, clear that perhaps the remark was directed to himself and not really intended to be something to discuss. Sh does however, take the half rejection rather well, half expecting the response the king had given.
"Oh of course, I apologize, I didn't mean to distract you from your duties", she begins, before flashing a mischievous smile, "actually that's not entirely accurate, a chat with me probably would have distracted you from your duties so I'm guess not entirely sorry, but I do understand the importance. If events or circumstances change, or if you wanted my input on something, I'm sure I'm be around somewhere!"
After some time talking to the Vikontesse, Darivan and Sylvia allow her to be snatched away by the next people waiting to talk her. Sylvia, on her part, can't stop grinning, having met one of her idols, and Darivan is much the same, though more so from watching Sylvia try to hold in her excitement. The two are barely looking where they are going as they head to the side of the room for refreshments.
Okay, sounds good.
::László, Acaciano, Tai, Etc::
Acaciano nods in agreement with Tai, then gestures to one side. Through a few crowds of people, he's pointing at Darg, as described to him by Tai. "Yes, and I believe that to be him over there?"
Tai, seeing him, confirms.
"Well, László, if you're off now, I'll say it was lovely meeting you. I'm sure we'll run into each other again shortly," Acaciano says, politely offering the man a chance to go meet Darg before he gets lost in the crowd.
::Cenobitic Messenger::
"Oh? Well, lead the way, then," Aramil responds to the Cenobitic monk who came to talk to him. He then follows him towards where the monks are all clustered.
Yep. The mystic with no perception, no diplomacy, no bluff, no sense motive. I've got some intimidate, though.
:: Acaciano, Tai ::
"Dargaryen, uh?"
Laszlo carefully studies the man from afar before closing in.
"I thank you, comrades. I wish you a nice evening."
:: Dargaryen Blanc ::
Laszlo approaches Dargaryen and stays a few metres away while he finishes any light chatting he might be involved in.
"Good evening, good sir. My name is Laszlo Nagy, nice to meet you. I have been told you among the Steel Fists are a faithful servant of Erastil, and I thought it would be a good moment to know you."
After offering his hand and an opportunity to introduce himself, Laszlo asks again "Is your... organization all Erastil related?"
Dargaryen rouses himself from the torpor of the evening when Father Laszlo approaches. "Greetings Laszlo, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I indeed am a disciple of Erastil, as if my companion, Marlovaur." He introduces the half elf at this side. "I'm afraid that the Steel Fists are bound by our mutual desire to leverage our martial expertise to assist King Kowalskiy in his noble expedition, and not by faith. I would like to think that I may sway the Steel Fists into following the tenets of Erastil, but in truth I have little control over my comrades. Never the less, I promise you that the Steel Fists will act with honor and valor on the battlefield. What organization do you represent Father?"
Hareth's heightened sense of hearing picks up the name 'Erastil' from a not-too-distant conversation and in a momentary lull in the buzz of conversation around him... He turns in that direction and spots Dargaryen speaking with Laszlo... He makes note of the pair, but doesn't intrude on their private talk... Perhaps other followers of Old Deadeye... I should introduce myself to them when they are not busy.