Nate doesn't seem to care when Alice snatches the dagger. He puts his carved-up hands behind his head, sighing deeply. "Nothing, like the rest of us. Nothing of any importance or significance." He reaches towards his pack, where a handaxe rests on top. "Now get out, before I start carving you up instead."
Aurex roars and coats the walls in fire as he goes from dead asleep to wide-awake in an instant. Damnit, f~%!, shitting hellfire! I told them to not keep him from me this long! Burning piss-ants those stupid two-legged... Aurex continues to offer colorful swears as he masters his temper, not wanting to destroy his current abode. Alright, take stock. One thing at a time. Make a plan.
Food. Aurex's belly rumbles. You can do nothing if you starve. Keep to small game or you'll draw attention. Aurex leaves the lair, moving to find more deer, which to him seem a good middle ground between small enough that the locals wouldn't notice but large enough that it would fill his belly. As he travels his mind races. Who is it, which one of you torturous f!%!e...ah, Menas. Not as bad as Jahrim, but worse than Narsius or Rubani. Alright, as long as he doesn't get too much attention it shouldn't be a problem...and the others are seeking to avoid attention anyways, right? Shit, I hope he doesn't attack them.
"Dont you dare take that tone with me young man. This is not how we treat eachother. Now you better not grab that axe. Or you'll regret it."
Nate stops, looking up at Alice. He stares at her a moment, then breaks eye contact first. "Fine, stay. Not like it matters anyways." He goes back to laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. "Afraid I won't be very entertaining."
Havelyn is still concerned for Nate's wellbeing by the time the group sets out to see the Baron, but there's little he can do for the man. He's unfamiliar with his plight, and without training in medicinal arts, the lord feels better suited for parleying with the Baron than speculating on Nate's illness. So he dresses in his finest, sword and dagger on his belt, and travels to the Baron's manse with the others.
At the gate, he stops for the guards, and gives them a stern frown. "I understand your concern for your master's safety, sirs, but surely you are not so uncouth as to demand we disarm? Or am I to assume you are unaware of our personages?" He drops his hands to the hilts of his weapons, not threatening, simply drawing attention to their fine make. "I am Sir Thomas Havelyn, Lord of Balentyne, Knight of Alerion, and an honored guest of your Baron. These are guests of mine own, vouchsafed and trusted with my life. I would no sooner see them defenseless than I would turn over my own signet and badges of office."
Alice looks pleased. "Entertaining is subjective Nate. You play cards? Those sailors taught me about every card game which exists and you can cheat on. Feel like a game?"
Nate raises his brows at the offer. "Cards, hmm? Used to play some with my fellow stud-...soldiers?..." He trails off wirh a frown, shaking his head and moving to a sitting position to see what game Alice has in mind.
It seems pretty obvious to Alice that the idea of doing something just to kill time peaked his interest.
Alice digs out a pretty worn set of cards. "You want a pure game of luck? Or some stratigy involved?"
Alice purposfully ignores Nate's confusion.
Nate stares at the cards. "Erm...strategy. At least something that makes me think a little. Although gambling with poker-style games isn't much interest with only two people."
Alice starts shuffling the deck. "Ever played Sir Garnet? Its generally more fun with more people, but its more about smart plays then gambling."
Nate shakes his head. "How do you play?"
Farholde -
Grumble watches as a freely bleeding Nate who isn't exactly acting like Nate, begins to play cards with Alice after threatening to kill her. Humans...
Baron Vandermir’s Manse -
The Guards look at one another and then back to Lord Havelyn, his demeanor convinces them to allow the group to retain their weapons. Though one of the guards does accompany the group, hand on the hilt of his sword.
As you enter a large foyer a Butler greets you all though his eyebrows raise in surprise that you are all still armed. The Guard waves his hand as if to say, it's alright. The Butler frowns and claps, through a set of doors directly ahead exit three servants with brandy, delicate meat skewers and other hors d’oeuvres.
The foyer is large. A semi-circular set of stairs ascends to a second floor where you see two separate doors. To the left, the right, and straight ahead are another three sets of double doors. The floor is ornate marble with a crest, the same worn by the Guards, skillfully worked into certain sections of the floor. There is no place to sit though there are a few tables on either side of the room. Both beautiful and of an exotic wood that does not grow on this island.
One set of doors at the top of the stairs opens and a fully armed and armored man exits, his face partially obscured by a helm with a red plume atop.
, as you exit, instead of seeing five guests you only see three. One appears to be a Knight of Alerion to boot! All are still armed. The Baron does not generally receive guests in this manner.
You can smell prey under the canopy of the thick trees beneath. There are prey and predators therein.
You, the ultimate predator fly above waiting for the smells that fill your nostrils the most, more prey for you...
Then you see in the distance the trees move. Not just a swaying of the breeze but actual movement. odd.
"So, we each get five cards, dealt in a round of three at a time, then a round of two at a time, or first two and then three. There is an extra hand set aside.
The highest bidder indicates the trump suit by making the opening lead, which must be a trump. Other players must follow suit if possible. A player who cannot follow suit may trump or discard at will. A trick is won by the highest card played of the suit led, or, if it contains a trump, by the highest trump. The winner of a trick leads next.
Instead of making the usual bid, each player in turn to the left may pick up the extra hand and place it with the five cards he originally had. From these ten cards, the player picks out any five and discards the others without revealing them. The player is then obliged to bid "Nap" (a bid of all five tricks is called "Nap"), but if he fails to make the bid, that player must pay double the normal penalty.
There is no credit for extra tricks won either by the bidder or by the opponents beyond what was needed to make or defeat the bid. If the bidder makes the bid, he collects from all the other players. If the bidder is defeated, he pays every player.
...It honestly works better with more players, buts a game where both bluffing and counting cards pay off."
Nate looks pretty engrossed in the rules as Alice explains them. He doesn't seem to grasp it particularly quickly but wants to play regardless.
It was nice that Nate was acting more understandable again, but their game held no interest for Jack. He went back to his book.
Raaven, on the other hand was quite engrossed. In the form of a serpent, the little daemon was coiled around Morana's wrist, pretending to be some sort of familiar.
Errisaigh's one unobscured eye widens a fraction before control is asserted, and step corrected. He takes in the measure of the Baron's "guests", realising some manner of wile or other legerdemain has been employed to pass the guards so armed. He approaches the small group, and speaks, his deep voice slightly muffled by his armor.
"Honored guests. I am Errisaigh Varkain. [here performs a perfunctory bow] Be you so kind as to follow me - the Baron is indeed waiting."
Errisaigh executes an abrupt about-face.
"The Baron does not however, entertain guests who are armed. An understandable precaution for those of high station. As a gesture of solidarity, I will place my weapon aside also."
The armored man reaches back to where he has stowed a dread flail, each link a stylised horned skull and each chain ending in a studded mailed fist.
Alice takes the first few rounds slow with Nate.
" See, the first round, anything can be up, and its mostly bluffing. The only thing you can be sure of is the cards you have. But as the rounds progress, keeping track of the cards that have left play pays off, as you then know which combinations can no longer be possible."
"Perhaps you are unaware, but the Baron is not the only one here who is of high station." Despite her recent melancholy, the charm—manufactured or not—is back in Soren's voice. Gone is the woman who scribbled silently in a journal on the deck of a boat. "We come from Aldencross; no doubt you've heard of the situation there. Before you is Lord Havelyn of Tower Balentyne, an honored knight of Alerion. Carnage might've followed at our heels but we are no common travelers; to disarm would be a disservice to his station. Surely, that is something your baron should understand."
Soren brushes her hood from her head, shaking out her hair. "We bear no ill will toward the Baron. He ought to at least know that much, considering the audience set up by our acquaintance. The baron will have to make an exception in service to our mutual patron."
"But it still resets at the end of each hand, right? So it starts over again and again..." He muses and starts catching up, picking up on the rules and game at a reasonable pace.
After a bit of playing Nate grows quieter, until he asks a question. "So, everybody else seemed to have lots of important things to do. Why are you in here with me, playing cards?"
"Third Loyalty," Jack said, not looking up from his book. "The bound shall deal with each other fairly and honorably."[/b]
"You signed it, same as we did. We look out for each other, even when one of us is being a pain in the ass."
"Honestly? You needed looking after. I'm worried. Also, they are talking to some high up lord. I have neither the patience or the aptitude for being nice. I cant lie for sh*t."
Errisaigh considers the woman with his eye. It raises a fraction, then lowers again.
"Station, high or low matters little to me. If you bear no ill will toward the Baron, your weapons are meaningless, almost as meaningless as this discussion. If you fear the Baron, go armed. If you wish him ill, go armed. If being armed is more important than having a frank discussion as a guest, go armed. Or, lay your weapons aside and enter."
His eye lightens as he obviously smiles.
"Really, it matters little to me. I'm happy either way."
Nate frowns. "Worried? Why, I haven't even bothered getting out of bed. Besides, not like this whole scheme is going to work anyways. Find some hidden place with no map and do a ritual we don't know how to do and even if we figure out all that we have to prevent ourselves from simply being destroyed." He sighs. "It all seems so pointless."
Havelyn had been about to speak for himself when Soren answered the other man's request. He keeps his composure well enough, but doesn't hide a glance and small smile toward the woman. So well spoken. Cunning and collected. No wonder so few see through her mistruths.
Upon Errisaigh's response, Havelyn nods his head and extends a hand in a gesture of goodwill. "As you say, sir, our weapons bear no meaning without malintent. I fear not your Lord, nor his men, nor yourself. I merely fear mine own safety. Having come from the ruin of my domain, you understand my readiness for defense. And a true and honest Knight need never go unarmed, for his sword can be trusted to strike only the wicked."
The lord smiles again, more broadly. "I swear on my honor as a Knight of Alerion, I mean the Baron no harm. I will not draw blade against him. I assure you my companions feel the same."
Regardless of the man's response, Havelyn moves for the refreshments, clearly finished with this discussion for the time being.
Alice shrugs. "Yeah, its all a bit weird, but I figure we'll find a solution along the way. We already did something no one had thought possible, so I suppose we can add some more unlikely feats?"
"Breaking down a wall is a bit different then what we're trying to do here. And then what? Another mission, another little pebble, and why even bother this entire scheme to begin with? World seems shit enough as is, why does it matter who's in charge."
Baron Vandermir’s Manse -
After a few minutes of refreshments to ease the tension from the room, the group heads up the stairs still armed to meet with the Baron. So too does Errisaigh retain his weapon.
You enter a gorgeous study filled with as many books in one place as most of you have ever seen along with some valuable works of art hanging upon the wall. The desk is large and made of darkwood as is all of the furniture, broken down this furniture would make fabulous weapons!
The Baron is a handsome half-elf dressed in burgandy and white. He appears young and boyish in appearance but his elven blood may well tell another tale. He frowns as the group enters and clenches a gold goblet in his left hand. He gestures for Errisaigh to close the door then begins, "I was planning on serving dinner but to those who break my rules I provide little succor or sustenance.
Indeed, you come to me as beggars, the last remnants of a forbidden faith. You will promise me much, of that I have no doubt. But all that I am likely to earn from helping you is the inquisitor’s pyre. Tell me, why should I help the likes of you? Especially when you display such severe breaches of etiquette coming fully armed and armored to a dinner party”.
They speak in a language of plants and trees so you can little of what they say...
"Breaking down a wall is a bit different then what we're trying to do here. And then what? Another mission, another little pebble, and why even bother this entire scheme to begin with? World seems s%&$ enough as is, why does it matter who's in charge."
"Second Loyalty," Jack said, still not looking up from his book. "Thorn wants it done so you do it. If you don't understand why, you ask him. If he doesn't feel like explaining himself, you don't get to b$*!% about it. You just get used to not knowing and do the job anyway."
"I don't understand what's going on, pretty much always. If I stopped to care about how much I don't know, I'd never get anything done. Sometimes you just gotta have faith."
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The Baron is one of the few surviving members of the House of Barca, the line of kings that Markadian the Victor overthrew. Raaven whispered into the minds of the Ninth Knot at the Manor House.
As an Elf, the Baron is old enough to remember The Victor's Rebellion. This man watched his entire family line deposed, most of them killed or executed, then saw the members of his faith rounded up and slaughtered. He survived all of this, and has lived among his enemies holding his true loyalties secret for a human lifetime.
"Do not underestimate this man. Beneath his mask of civility, he is likely cautious to the point of paranoia, extremely cunning, and deeply bitter."
"The simple fact you entertain us at all, knowing what we are, speaks of your reason to help." Havelyn finishes the goblet of wine he'd brought with him, and sets it on a nearby surface before turning to face the Baron. "You have aught to lose. More importantly, you have aught to gain. Your city is fair, with new growth and pleasantry in the streets. Beauty and prosperity brought by the new church, so well-beloved to name a district, no doubt. A church which commands adoration, respect, even fear. And, above all, loyalty."
Havelyn reaches down and runs one hand over the pommel of his sword. The holy symbol of Mitra emblazoned there is impossible to miss. "I've no doubt of your wisdom in ruling, your knowledge of your position, my lord. So tell me: What comes to pass when two powers must vie for the fealty of the people? Certainly, they might share their place to some extent. But there will always be conflict betwixt the two. And should that conflict run as deep as ideology, preferences of rule... Sooner or later, whispered words are shouted in the streets. Someone decides an idea is worth fighting for, worth killing for. What happens to those whose ideas lose, when the rivers are red with blood?"
His fist clenches and he pushes the sword aside, his eyes hard and eager. "We come armed and armored, Baron, for it suits our purpose. We do not come to a dinner party, speaking of peace. I fear there is no olive branch to offer, for the blind faith of hypocrisy would not stoop to accept it. We bring ideas. We bring war. And we bring unity in acceptance. And that, I believe, is why you will help us."
He extends an open hand. "For my part, I promise naught but that which you will reach out and grasp."
Most of the surviving members of House Barca are members of the Order of the Gryphon, the professional rivals of the Order of Alerion. The Gryphons are a traditional hereditary order full of aristocracy and landed nobles. The Alerion are an upstart, meritocratic order who hold annual tournaments to decide their ranks, and are willing to accept members from across the societal spectrum." Raaven continued silently as the meeting began.
I believe the current commander of the Gryphons is the Baron's cousin. Since the Gryphons rebelled against King Barca and helped kill the loyal members of their own house, I would posit the Baron probably hates them. However, it is equally likely that he hates the Order of Alerion as well, as they were the order of Markadian himself.
Errisaigh watches carefully as the noble and knight joust verbally, the noble relying on his home advantage and confidence of place and position, the knight countering strongly with substance and swaying words.
Baron Vandermir’s Manse -
The Baron remains seated, "You are a Knight of Alerion are you not?
Why don't I just turn you in for betraying Mitra? I'd be willing to bet that those with you are the same rogues that escaped from Brandescar Prison.
Oh, the clergy and the Realm has done much to quell that event but I have my sources.
There is much to be gained by doing that and so much more to lose by aiding you.
This little strike in the North will be responded to, harshly. Already, the forces of light marshall eager young Knights who have yet to have the full taste of war. They are eager for it, war galvanizes a population that has only heard and never seen true evil and war and death!
Remaining here keeps me alive and wealthy. Joining your band could be the death of me and it would be my head next to meet the executioner's axe at the now refortified Brandescar Prison".
"These children are going to war with monsters. They have grown up on tales of valiant knights that conquer evil, they know nothing of the horrors of battle." Soren shrugs her cloak back behind her shoulders, and looks the Baron up and down to give her words a chance to sink in. Thanks to Raaven, she know of the Baron's animosity for the knights, something she had no doubt she could take advantage of. ""They are drunk on overconfidence and know nothing of the reality that lives on a battlefield. The bugbears are a brutal people that live in the harsh north beyond the now-fallen Tower Balentyne, these knights will break against the bugbear host when they discover that a moral high ground doesn't stop a blade from spilling their entrails on the ground. I have no doubt that eventually a true fighting force will rise against them, but I don't believe it will be soon enough to stop them from carving a swath through Talingarde, and by that time they will have other problems."
"The safer bet might be to remain here, Baron... but do you want to? I imagine living this life—suffering from the necessary paranoia to keep one's head off the chopping block, second guessing your every move out of fear of death—must be tiring, isn't it? You hide it well, but I have no doubt there are embers of rage buried somewhere in your gut. You despise them for what they did, for the things that you neither forgotten nor forgiven. You hate them." The baron might not notice, but her compatriots can see the subtle shift in Soren's demeanor; this isn't rhetoric. Her clenched fists and tense shoulders belie the fact that, for once, she seems to be speaking from the heart. "Imagine for a moment what it might feel like to finally attain vengeance for your family that was slaughtered. To feel your fingers tighten around the throats of your traitorous kinsmen? I'm sure you must've dreamed of it in the long years since they turned against you. The best chance you will ever have is standing before you; we have escaped the inescapable Branderscar and felled the impenetrable Tower Balentyne. Once might be coincidence, but twice?" Soren chuckles, and shakes her head. She reaches a hand out toward the Baron. "The chance to attain the unattainable, to shirk the collar the Mitrans have placed on us, to fulfill those dark forgotten dreams of revenge... that chance is right in front of you, Baron Barca."
"Now reach out and take it."
Baron Vandermir’s Manse -
The Baron laughs, his laugh is sinister and a bit frightening even to hardened criminals and murderers such as yourselves. It seems that Soren has indeed touched something within the Baron, something that on the surface is deeply hidden. His eyes burn fiercely as he responds, "Aid you I will. Join you, I will not.
I wish to see more miracles performed by you and the Cardinal before I decide anything further.
In return for my aid, you shall bring my most gifted soldier into your group, Errisaigh Varkain. He is well trained in the arts of war and the sowing of fear.
He shall report to me what he witnesses among you. Though him will you contact me to ensure that your group is at more than arms length from me or my affairs. Your failures are to be your and not mine. Your successes I shall revel in and when, if, the time is right, join your cause.
Do we have an agreement?"
Not bothering to lay down her rarely used weapons as she has far better options at hand and if her companions keep their weapons then it would look odd of her to lay hers down.
Quietly listening to Lord Havelyn's attempts and the chatter of Raaven in the back of her mind. Watching the Baron and opening her mouth to chime in but quickly shutting it when Soren starts in with her shocking level of honesty that tugs at her own desires.
Glancing over at Soren and then to Havelyn nodding. Unless one of them give a sigh of objection to the predictable offer. Gods forbidding that a noble put themselves on the line instead of everyone else doing it for them. Is he really necessary? Sadly he is for now. Doesn't he have to be part of the knot? Good question.. Though I think that is only if we keep him.
Havelyn can't help a small smile as Soren gives her speech. It is impassioned, empathetic, but most importantly, effective. He watches as the Baron is swayed, and is glad they have succeeded in securing his aid. He decides, by the time the other noble finished speaking, that he doesn't care for this man--actually stating he will reap benefits without risk is the word of a sniveling coward--but for now, he is willing to play along. For the Cardinal. For you, my love.
So when the Baron asks if an agreement is reached, he looks meaningfully to the hand he offered, still outstretched and waiting to be clasped.
Baron Vandermir’s Manse -
The Baron notices Havelyn's open hand and grasps it, "Then we have an accord.
Go then, take my trusted soldier and ally. Discuss with your friends what it is you may need of me during your time here".
Errisaigh's shoulders stay firm, but inside he is torn, an inner turmoil he can't express to those gathered here. When the speeches are done, Errisaigh reckons the horned lady with the gunnes took the engagement but the Baron takes extra points for embedding a pawn into the win, and Errisaigh likes not being a pawn, "trusted" or not. Often sacrificed, and rarely valued.
*************************************************************************** ****
He gives his Baron the most loyal of nods and leaves the chamber once the "guests" have left. Once outside the chamber, Errisaigh stops on his heel and faces the group.
"Mme's Soto, Marsailles; Lord Havelyn - apparently I am yours to command, and the Baron's to hear from. I like this arrangement not at all, as surely as perhaps you do not. I suggest we make the best of being strange bedfellows..."
Farholde -
The Knot members nod to Errisaigh but do not reply. In silence the group, now one more member stronger returns to the room sat the Friar.
Inside they find Grumble reading and Nate and Alice playing cards.
The cards are a bit bloody as are Nate's hands, seems to be a high stakes game.
Those who remain behind at the Friarsee a newcomer in their ranks...