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Lord Samuel Kerensky of Clearwater is wearing an emerald green suit with gold trim the latest style at court in preperation for his audience with the King. He'd follow all the form of etiquette and stay close to his new bride.
Kerensky though not an overly large man is classically handsome with short cut black hair, a finely groomed beard highlighting his strong jaw, an olive skin tone with green eyes the same emerald as his suit. He'd introduce himself and his wife to those who they have not personally me before. Before doing so he'd discretely whisper in her ear confirming who they are, if he doesn't see a spark or recognition in her eyes. [blue]He's got a +8 to his lowest knowledge skill and these are famed heroes of the land.[/blue] Once all the introductions are in order he moves onto more general conversation with the group. It is an honor to stand in such company, your exploits are renowned. I have no doubt in such august company we will rise to whatever challenge is set before us by his majesty.
Lady Abalia Kerensky, a lovely pale young woman with long black hair and soft rose colored eyes dressed in a gown of green and gold to match her new husband's suit, held to Samuel's arm as they walked in.
She gives a respectful nod to those within the room. "Yes, though I must say, I would like to know what his majesty wishes of us. This does seem like an, odd group to get together." Abalia stated as she looked to Samuel. "Shall get you something to drink husband?" She asked softly.
Dengorin enters the room, clad in traditional vestments of a Bishop of Abadar. On closer inspection, the vestments are made of the finest linen and silk, and the gold holy symbol about his neck shows someone who is used to having wealth at his command. His brown eyes seem to evaluate and catalog information about each of the others in the room. Though he seems soft on the outside, he radiates a force of will that few can match. He smiles and offers a short bow to the others. "I believe the purpose we have been set to will be revealed in time. I do know that we were each asked for by name, and personally by his Highness. Whatever our task, it will surely provide us with great opportunity."
"You have my thanks." He places a hand on her forearm gently with a slight but brief smile not wanting to push decorum here.
He nods as the Bishop approaches "Your grace Kaltaneous I presume, I do not believe we have met but your good works in service to Abadar are well known to us. This is my lovely wife, Lady Abalia Kerensky. I am Lord Samuel Kerensky."
"Opportunity as you said your grace but looking at the company one of great import to the realm is such are drawn together. Several tasks for part of this company I wonder, or one great task for us all? The flame of curiosity is only fanned as names are added to this gathering." Samuels eyes meet Dengorin's with confidence but they flicker to Abalia periodically as well as scan the room. His smile comes easy but he is assessing and calculating as the event develops.
Abalia gave a small smile to Samuel as removed his arm from her and she made her way to the table. She picked up one of the goblets. She picked one of the wines and filled the goblet half way before returning to Samuel's side.
"Here dear." She said softly as she held out his drink. "I hope it's to your liking."
Samuel takes the goblet and raises it to his lips taking a light slip."Perfect thank you. My dear, Bishop Kaltaneos was just telling me that he believes the challenge to be set forth by our King will lead to opportunity." He places a hand on Abalia's elbow, quite willing to give his arm if she's accepting. The Kings court is one of the few civilised places that will put me on edge. A bit of support might settle both our nerves.
Abalia seemed pleased that Samuel liked the drink she chose for him. She moved as she took his arm as she had when they walked in, though her attention had turned to Kaltaneos. "Bishop Kaltaneos, you are a bishop of Abadar are you not? Doesn't the temples of Abadar work as banks and tax collectors? Could this meeting be about the kingdoms economy?" She asked.
"Did someone say economy?" A gruff voice questioned as a dwarf who spent a lot of money on his outfit walked in. His silks had bits of armor showing, gaudy, polished pauldrons and a gold chest covering. This armor was more for show and less for protection. His hair was slick and black and his handle-bars were braided with gold rings.
Kurhat entered with his apprentices (flunkies) and he snapped his fingers. They took his shoulder cape off and hung it up nearby, before they went about flattening their heads against the floor towards the two royal members. Kurhat respectively bows towards the lord and lady, "M'lord, m'lady. I find myself in good company with tonight's invitation." Snapping his fingers again, the two servants straighten and he motions towards the door with his thumb. They leave.
Trudging over to take a seat on the opposite wall, the dwarf places his hands on his knees and sits straight like stone, casting his eyes towards the other man. Noticing the holy symbol and eyeing it a bit longer than usual, Kurhat picks up his eyes, "Bishop." He gives a nod of the head. Well known in his own circle, but rarely seen outside it, Kurhat was a traditionalist that didn't allow the casteless into his house or his workplace and was the current head of the merchant's guild.
And he frowned a lot, but that wasn't because his family name was Grimjaw, it was because his beard made him frown constantly. "Grimjaw, Kurhat, merchant caste." He's never met the others, but knows what position they hold, as position is very important to traditionalist dwarves.
Samuel gives Grimjaw a nod with respect to his current position and previously earned renown. "Guildmaster Grimjaw, if indeed it is a matter of Economy we are in good company indeed. Between the guidance of renowned Bishop of Abadar such as his Grace Kaltaneos and your own keen insights a purely economic challenge would be resolved quickly."
"But what of the others who have been invited? Though I am no stranger to economics I would not be so arrogant as to think my skills are as refined as either of yours. Perhaps my dear wife and I are here to lend other skills to your own for greater effect in service to the Realm. A trade mission, involving diplomacy and our family contacts? But if it is a matter of pure economy we will lend our council and observe your expertise in action."
The conversation is cut in to by a sharp clearing of the throat as a slender elven man walks in to the room. The cold stare he briefly lays on each member of the room gives the impression that the elf is scrutinizing every weakness and stray thought that is going through your head.
"I would not think that the intended outcome of today's actions. We have a successful merchant, a member in standing to some day replace the archbishop himself, a well known orator, his lovely lady, and now a well known lore keeper of the Baile Phuir... one would almost think that the king was replacing his council if one didn't know that each of the members was in good health."
Dengorin smiles at Lady Abalia's question. "I would doubt it. I was recently appointed to my post by the High Priest of Abadar, who informed me there was to be a new Bishopric created I would oversee. This likely pertains to that, although how it relates to the King I am unsure. I do know that we were each asked for by name, so there is that."
As Grimjaw comes in, Dengorin smiles. The dwarf may not be a worshipper of Abadar, but the Guildmaster of the Dwarven Merchant Caste was always treated with courtesy. "Guildmaster." Dengorin responds, with a bow of his head in respect.
Dengorin reruns the elf's cold stare with a small smile on his face. The Baile Phuir's involvement in this matter intrigues him. After all, they tended to keep to themselves.
Abalia gives a respectful nod to Grimjaw as he introduced himself and was about to return his kindness when the elven man cleared his throat. It got her attention and she quickly looked him over, more so then she had the others as he seemed to unnerve her a bit.
"It would matter little if they are in good health, if their relation to the King was poor. His majesty would not keep on one he does not trust, or one who frivals away time. Though if he was replacing his council I doubt I would have been asked for along with my husband. No I feel this may be something else..." She commented.
Samuel does not seem too concerned by the entrance of the Elf, especially compared to Abalia standing so close for contrast."Well he certainly hasn't illuminated any of us on the matter. If it was one of us being elevated to the council it would be a think of note, but so many would surely be an ill sign indeed. A new Bishopric is curious, either new territory would have to be added or an existing territory divided if it were one in the conventional sense. Perhaps something less straight forward and more inventive. A Bishop of Abadar appointed to a dioceses less confined by the notion of geography and more by concept."
He pauses for a moment before continuing "A Bishop overseeing expressly missionaries unconcerned by a typical Bishops duties. Such a thing would require provisioning, a great logistical undertaking and a great amount of expertise. A serious undertaking but it could help strengthen cultural and economic ties." Samuel shakes his head and takes another sip of his wine. "But I am probably wrong, there are too many unknowns. We may tease out the reasoning but we will only know when the King sees fit."
Kurhat drew a pipe and started stuffing tobacco into it, "You flatter me." His eyes lifted up at the elf's entrance and he stuck the pipe into his mouth, giving him a steeled look, "Magister." Lighting his pipe, he settles into his seat and smokes conservatively. It was high-end tobacco that smelled faintly coffee. It was a dwarven thing, to smoke coffee and inhale alcohol.
After a while, Kurhat pulls out a pocket-sized abacus and begins to work, flicking the beads around and making rough looking faces at it.
Evin pulls at his high collar one more time, wishing it weren't so stiff, then strides into the council room. He knows he's late; thankfully it seems the king hasn't arrived.
Upon entering, his eyes glide over the others: an elf, a dwarf, a Bishop, and - ah, yes. Family. The guard who showed him in shuts the door with a heavy click.
Great.
Trying to remember the proper protocols for such a formal meeting, Evin sidles up to his older brother Samuel and gives his new sister in law a tight smile.
"Good evening." He looks to the rest of the room, and picks the elf. "I don't believe we've been introduced."
"Evin. Dear brother it's wonderful to see you." Abalia said as she moved from Samuel to give Evin a chaste kiss on the cheek. Though she quickly returned to her husband's side, returning her arm to the place locked around Samuel's arm.
A man with dirty blonde hair, dressed in slightly dented scale mail, enters through the door. His mustache flutters as he speaks in a deep baritone register.
Greetings everyone, as he bows to the regal company before him. My name is Elijah Moore, and a hope I am not too late
Prior to Elijah's entrance Samuel will nod at Evin as he enters "Brother, it's good to see you here." Samuel is thankful his little brother didn't take too much longer, getting off on the wrong foot with the King could have unfortunate consequences. His head turned to the door as he heard the clinking of scales.
A large half-orc with a shaved tattooed head and a scruffy beard strides in. He wears plate armor painted red and black and has a variety of weapons, and is dusty and travel-stained. His shield bears the image of a charging boar on a field of red and green. Under one arm is a helmet that matches his armor, and in the other hand is a piece of parchment that he is staring at intently.
He looks up as he enters, and stops. He looks around, confused.
"My lords, I beg your pardon. Am I in the right room?" He looks again at the sheet of parchment.
"Well... apparently I am." he says as he folds up the parchment and puts it in a pouch. "Perhaps I should have changed and bathed before coming, though I just returned from a patrol and was told to report directly."
"Pardon me. Major Qazag Qoroshúk, Prince Jora's Heavy Lancers, 4th Squadron, reporting. Apparently there is some kind of special assignment? Which one of you do I report to?"
"People are still arriving it seems and with ut the mystery thickens Moore. I think I hear someone else coming."
Samuel has a brief look in his face as if he were about to rebuke the half orc and then nods realising who it is... its ok for THIS half orc to be here obviously "The same person as the rest of us I am afraid Major. We've been summoned by the King and as to what purpose we can only speculate. It is quite unfortunate your orders did not allow an opportunity to freshen yourself up."
"Hm. Well, it looks like we have a group of nobles and one soldier. Perhaps your mission will receive some kind of guard? It's not uncommon for aristocrats to be escorted by a troop of cavalry. Otherwise, I don't see what I have in common with the rest of you."
Qazag looks over at Elijah. "Well, maybe not you. Infantry?"
Qazag turns back to the rest of the group. "I am a knight, so I suppose I'm a member of the gentry, but I always considered my military rank to be much more important than that title."
"I thought you looked familiar." Abalia said, mainly to herself as she looked Qazag over. "My middle brother spoke of you, though his details did you little credit I'm sorry to say. But he served along side you for a small time and regaled us with tales of you and the company. You may remember him, Carver Allard? Second son of Duke John Allard the VIth." Abalia mentioned.
Though looking around Abalia gave a soft humm, which told Samuel a thought had popped into her head. "A Bishop of Abadar, a Guildmaster from the Merchant's guild, a known lore keeper of the Baile Phuir, three of noble birth, then two of military prowess..." She turned to look fully at Samuel. "Dear husband, I believe that the lore keeper might have been correct. This has all the making of a council."
"Technically, four nobles. My father is Baron Edgar Kaltaneos," Dengorin says, a slightly apologetic smile on his face. "Third sons don't inherit much, so my father had me join the clergy. You are correct, however. This does have the makings of such a council. Unfortunately, I am unsure to what purpose we have been assembled. There are no rumors of a rift between the King and his advisors."
Dengorin looks at the newcomers, as they enter dressed for battle. He returns Elijah's greeting, and says to Qazag, "A formidable warrior, with a reputation on the battlefield as one of implacability and commanding presence. Your reputation precedes you, Major. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
Kurhat puffed on his pipe some, taking note of the conversation and the new arrival with the usual, gruff, "Major." He had to push the pipe over with his tongue and hold it there with his teeth. After the half orc speaks, "Militaristic tradition is a good one to uphold." Giving a deep, thoughtful hmm, he slid a few beads around the abacus, returning to his work even while waiting to be called upon.
Qazag perks up. "Carver Allard? Yes, I remember him. He was a fine... gentleman. And he sat a horse very well."
At Dengorin's compliments he shrugs. "One just does what needs doing. You can't be a cavalryman and stay at home knitting. Especially if you don't have... connections."
Evin looks away from the elf as a half-orc in red and black armor stomps into the room. His eyes widen in surprise for a moment at the orc's disheveled state, but the surprise leaves and an awkward "heh" of laughter replaces it at Qazag's explanation. Lucky bastard wouldn't be thought any less of by the king for arriving in such a state.
"Pleased to meet you, Qazag Qoroshuk," Evin says, mispronouncing the surname. He winces at the way it comes out of his mouth. His silence hangs awkwardly for a moment before he continues. "I am Evin Kerensky."
Elijah looks over at Qazag, Captain of the 13th Watch. I help keep the city streets safe, from thieves and other riff-raff. My father, Sebastian is a Drill Sargent for the 7th Squadron. He has said your "presence" is undeniable. At least he was honest with his assessment.
He takes a sip from a flask he has strapped on the inside of his mail, and looks around at the various jobs and roles of everyone.
Hmmm, I wonder if the rumors are true?!
"It's certainly an increasingly diverse group. We could stand for a council and by all Ive heard of the individuals present wed make a good account of it but to think so many changes, there'd be more to the matter. If his highness did chose such an undertaking the matter that had him undertake it would no doubt be quite notable and grim. One of us joining the council, these things happen but so many at once? If that were the case... I'd rather not dwell on the implications if the matter were so simple and dire."
Samuel adjusts his stance "The other greatest curiosity voiced is our Bishop with a new diocese, of which details are few. If it were an advisory council for some kind of crusade I'd expect more religious leaders here, though they might arrive yet!"
Abalia takes the scroll, cradling it in her free arm. She remains quiet as the King speaks, not daring to say a thing.
So we are to make a colony. That explains the whole group here, he was building a council but not to replace his own but for a new one.
Though when the King mentioned dealing with a minor werewolf problem Abalia knew just what he was talking about.
If he calls that minor... We best only contact him if the colony is on the edge of total failure...
Abalia turned to the Harold and began to ask questions. "Have the positions already been assigned? Or are we to sort that out among ourselves?" She asked before another question came to mind. "How many ships are we taking and how much room are we allowed to store our belonging?"
"And more importantly, can we requisition specific supplies and personnel? Are any of the settlers soldiers?"
Evin's jaw hung loosely, as if his face had simply forgotten to hold it in place. "Minor?" he sputtered, though it was lost in the lilting tones of Abalia's and Qazag's questions. He turned to his brother.
"Samuel, you being chosen to help establish a colony I understand - but there must be a mistake. You know me. I would be no use on such a venture!"
Then he turned to Harold. "Please - why us? Mere politics and gerrymandering, or are we truly hand picked?" The social folly of such a question didn't for a moment cross his mind, he was so taken aback.
Bowing as the King enters the room, Dengorin blinks a couple of times during the King's speech. That he calls 200-300 werewolves a minor problem shouldn't surprise him, seeing as they are expected to deal with plagues of undead and dragon infestations on their own.
A new Bishopric, indeed - and a new colony, one which I have been chosen to help shape and grow. A few years of this, build more settlements than just the first, maybe build a grand Cathedral dedicated to Abadar, and I'll be an Archbishop. This posting may not be the exile the High Priest intended it to be.
"Young Evin, your King has asked a task of you. Rather than ask why, perhaps you should take it as an endorsement of your skills - you would be surprised at the challenges that can come with building a new colony. I am sure that you were not chosen for mere politics. After all, the King hardly has time for playing such," Dengorin says, both letting him know it was a mistake to ask the question and as an attempt to fortify the young man's courage.
"Now, Harold, my new compatriots asks good questions, and I have another. Would it be possible for us to bring along small retinues on the trip? I am sure the Church of Abadar would be willing to send additional resources, given the trade opportunities, and the chance to bring civilization to an otherwise uncivilized land."
"You should have more confidence in yourself little brother. The King and undoubtedly his council see potential in you. You wont disappoint them, a colony requires many skills and you'll rise to the occasion." He puts a goblet down on a nearby table before putting a hand on his brothers shoulder.
Abalia gives a small gasp when she hears the name Caspian, almost allowing the scroll in her arms to slip out but she caught it before it really want anywhere and shifted it to the other arm just to make it look like that was all she was doing.
"Thank you for your time Harold." She says respectfully before she turns to her husband. "We should return home quickly, begin packing. Choosing what we wish to take and what we can ask our families to send later."
"How many berths have been put aside for retinues? Obviously we should limit how large a retinue, but is there a certain number we should keep it to?"
Dengorin's mind was racing. An acolyte to assist him in his duties, plus a few of his Abadarian bandit hunters would give him a good core around which to build another group. After all, who knew what they would encounter in Veras, and they might just need his group's specialized skills.
He also catalogues Abalia's reaction to the naming of Captain Caspian Stormshadow. I should find out more about him - and what his past connection is to one of my new-found council members.
Dengorin nods in response to Harold's suggestion, before turning to those still in the room. "Well, this is indeed a most exciting opportunity. The chance to found a colony for the Kingdom of Beral - such is an opportunity only the most worthy receive. Tell me, Major, how large is a partial legion? I am unfamiliar with such military matters. Do you think it enough protection?"
Kurhat taps his pipe and sets it on the empty seat beside him, his hands firm on his knees as he dips his head respectively towards his highness, "M'lord. It is an honor." Dumping his pipe into a nearby ash bowl, he slid it back into his inner pocket and sat still, listening for some time. Giving only one nod after he had heard enough, Kurhat stood and bowed, "I will have to let my house know. I will handpick my most trusted house members to join me. I thank you for this business opportunity." Fetching his coat, he held it in his arms, "If you will excuse me, your highness."
Varden continues to stand back and let the others discuss plans, listening closely and weighing each person against what he had already known of them. Only time would tell how all of this would turn out, though their was a good chance that this would not end well if he didn't push a few things in to place early and often. Maybe it was a good thing he would be along on this.
Samuel movesnhis thumb accross the well groomed beard at his jawline. Well it certainly appears we have ample things to consider and little time before we can deal with anything here. I'm sure we all have people we need to make unexpected goodbyes to. I look forward to working closely with each of ye
Abalia quickly slid her arm around Samuel's once again, though she seems to hold closer to him now. "Let us depart husband, I wish to begin packing our things to ensure we do not miss anything." She told him, though her grip told him she wanted to leave and quickly.
Unfortunately, Dengorin missed Samuel's reaction, which would have told him a bit more.