Rick claps a fist to his heart at Alistair's words. "Would that I had been there. No one should be made to watch their loved ones fall." he says with particulary vehement conviction. "Alas, my fate was elsewhere that day, but take heart, if you can, that your friends lay in the lap of the Lady now. Her judgement is swift and fair."
Rick turns, surprised to see the dwarf. "I do not know, sir. I am come under my own power and found a summons awaiting me. That is truly all I know. But, if you hold respect for our Lady and despise the vile undead, then you may stay as far as I am concerned."
Bolest perks up, clearly eavesdropping on the nearby group. He surreptitiously begins to slide himself along the bench he's sitting on, his belt scraping loudly across it's surface. It takes him almost a full, loud, grinding minute before he finally stops, satisfied at being closer to the conversation.
His eyebrows quirk upwards at the mention of necromancy, and he nods a little approval from behind Sir Wolfric's back. "Mmmmm, yes, no one likes a necromancer," he murmurs as much to himself as anyone else.
He looks back at the long scrape that he left in the bench, and sighs. Placing his hand on the bench, he begins to mutter, and the gouge
quickly heals itself. . "Mmm. Better."
Sir Wolfric's shoulders slowly rise as the scraping sound grows louder and more highly piched. Finally, when his teeth start grating at the sound, it stops and a furtive voice speaks from behind.
"True enough." He says struggling to relax. "In future sir, it is much better to simply approach a conversation and introduce yourself to it. This skulking approach of yours is quite off-putting."
Bolest grins disarmingly. "But skulking can be such fun! But then, perhaps you are right. Bolest Nositel, skulker and ruffian, at your service." His grin somehow widens, the already deep lines of laughter in his face deepening further. "And you, good sir? Clearly a knight of some sort. Knights are always a little... well... conservative in their conversations."
He unstoppers a flagon from his side, taking a deep draught of an unknown liquid from inside. "Would you like some? It's very nice."
Wolfric casts an appraising eye over the newcomber and all present can see his eyes glow a pale blue for a moment. A black hearted villain. I knew it at once.
"If I am conservative sir, it is only with company I would rather not keep. Do not think you can fool me with niceties. I can see your heart is black and shriveled as an over-toasted raisin."
"However, I will respect your right to be here by virtue of your summons. You simply must forgive me if I am curt with you in future."
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You realize that now I have to put you both in a party together, right?
Bolest raises his eyebrows. "Ah, a paladin. Always so quick to judge, and never willing to give a man a chance. Well good sir, should it be my pleasure to adventure with you, you need not fear. I am not prejudiced, and will be more than happy to aid and heal you." He smiles genially and takes another drink from his flagon.
"Ah, fresh water. Nothing better for a parched throat. Sure you won't have some?"
》
》
A Fetchling called to the occasion? Marcum had been sizing up the newly arrived dwarf when Bolest had moved into their growing congress. When the paladin refuses the offer of refreshment he withholds the diplomatic intercession he'd plotted.
"As I mentioned before, while the Society has a singular direction all their own," Marcum says calmly to Rick. "...the ballista of their intentions will make use of all variations of ammunition." He glances towards Rick, Cooper, Kheti and Brommen. "From cold iron and adamantine..." Then he glances towards Bolest. "...to more unique variants."
Then back to Rick. "It will depend upon the greater good of this operation. For olif I don't miss my guess, the appearance of an island out of the sea will fit into the annals of someone's prophecy." Marcum taps his fingers along the top of his cane. "And it's also been my experience that prophesy rarely ends well without the interventions and toilings of mortal name-givers."
To Brommen, "Tervitused poeg mägi." Marcum greets in dwarven. "I'm called Marcum Xavier, a seeker of knowledge and solver of riddles. I'm pleased to see our contingency grow in its mutual dismay towards the darker evils of this plane."
Marcum's last statement attracts the attention of the half-orc. From where he sits, he says "Prophesy is dead, friend. Aroden saw to that."
》
Marcum smiles and responds. "And one such as yourself must know there are two sides to every story and much to learn from them." He brushes at a perceived bit of dust in the cuff of his jacket. "The trick of prophesy, is knowing when to reveal...and when to shroud."
Wolfric bristles when the shadow folk makes a selfless offer in spite of his rude judgement. The Lady teaches to withold judgment for actions, Wolfric. Mind your tongue.
"Thank you Bolest, but no, I will not drink. Moreover, I apologize for my rudeness. I should save it for when you earn it."
Nodding at Bromen and Marcum's exchange, Rick opens his mouth to speak when a half-orc interjects.
"Begging your pardon, but prophesy is not not dead. It merely works behind curtains as good Marcum says. Do you say these things out of resentment at the loss of Aroden from this world? Surely you are too young to have been personally affected."
"My estimate also." he responds to Brommen.
Marcum observes the dwarf's gesture and catalogues it for later inquiry. An affectation of security beyond the function of such a formidable dwarven fabrication? Personal investment and suspicion. Intriguing...
At Rick's interjection, Marcum returns to the moment and awaits the response.
"Hah, unique variants. I like it. Usually I get gutter rat or shadow filth. You, sir, are a clever one." He smiles genially and offers the water to Marcum. "If you'd like. No pressure. Actually, one moment." He mutters another incantation, and refills the container. . "There, fresh from the source."
He shrugs and smiles at Sir Wolfric. "No offense taken, sir. I know you have your vows and oaths to uphold, but I look forward to earning every bit of that scorn," he says with a wink and a grin, laughter in his voice.
As the topic of conversation begins to turn, he falls briefly silent. Hm. Should've studied prophecy more. Divines know it would've come in handy.
He muses over the discussion of prophecy, deciding to hold his tongue and listen to those to whom it mattered more deeply.
I'll go be quiet now.
》
》
》
》
Goading are we? Sharp of wit, tactical and open at the same time... He searches the hand gestures and speech of the Fetchling, studying also the spell of which he casts.
"Tis the source that tickles my ear," Marcum politely declines the water with a gentle gesture of the hand. In an effort to hopefully deflect the possible ire of the paladin so information will continue it flow, he asks of Bolest. "Do I detect the hard consonants of Cheliax in your dialogue?"
"How fitting. Of course it's Cheliax." Rick says with barely concealed disdain.
With a slightly embarassed grin, Bolest nods. "Aye, I was raised there, though I don't know that my folk ever feel truly at home anywhere on this plane. And you, good sir? I'm afraid I don't have quite the ear for accents you seem to. From where do you hail?" He idly scratches at the thin chain which hangs around his neck, the edge barely visible around the neck of his cloak.
He leans back, lounging on the bench comfortably, seeming to rather enjoy the conversation.
"Now, now, good sir," Marcum soothes in Rick's direction. "I once rode the southern mountains of Isger in search of an orphan's true heritage. Diligence and fortitude uncovered the line of a noble family dedicated heart and soul to Iomedae. A family whose origins are in the heart of Cheliax.
He turns his eyes back to Bolest. "That is to say, the paintings of our homelands can not be so broadly painted." A deep sigh and a returning smile. "As for me, I hail from Absalom. She nurtured and educated me. I've been to the odds and ends of the Inner Sea, but I've always called her home."
"Indeed sir. I prefer to judge an individual based on their own merits, rather than the merits of their upbringing. I must say though, you live in a beautiful city. This is my first visit here, but I've enjoyed the limited time I've had to explore the city. Having travelled so broadly, you must have encountered your fair share of adventure and chaos..." His face turns more thoughtful, somewhat less exuberant than before as he ponders. "Still, you seem a rather level-headed individual, I doubt you would have been much corrupted." His smile returns as he speaks.
"It is certainly a nice city." Agnir says as he takes his leave of Max and sidles up to the main crowd.
"A bit different than what I'm used to. Vudrani cities are usually laid out a bit differently. More open."
"I'm Agnir, by the way. Agnir Munish."
Wolfric seems molified by Marcum's words, then answers Bolest. "It would be a different world indeed if we were judged on deeds alone. Would that I had the Lady's temperence. Myeyes have seen the old prejudices proven too many times for my heart to ignore. But, as this is an important mission, I will trust each of you if asked." He looks pointedly at Bolest. "Until that trust is betrayed."
Another one. Our little group grows quickly.
Wolfric smiles. "Welcome Agnir! The more the merrier eh? Come, tell us a tale to lighten the mood of a dour conversation."
"Hm. I'm not a particularly good storyteller but I'll do what I can."
"Ah, I have one."
"I had arrived at a little village after about 2 years of traveling, and stopped in for a rest. I rented a room and slept about halfway through the night when I heard a bloodcurdling scream. Shot up, went out to investigate, and found one of the villagers collapsed in the road, dead."
"She was completely drained of her life energy. Nobody caught a glimpse of what did. I spent 3 days tracking this thing before finding it, and lost just as many of the villagers. Eventually tracked it to its lair, turned out to be a Vetala, preying on the village and sucking the prana from them, since they were such easy targets."
"I destroyed it after a hard battle and consecrated the corpse, and that was pretty much the end of it. The villagers thanked me, buried their dead, and I moved on."
"About how life's been since I left the temple. Some bad, some good. Sorry if it's a bit sparse on the details, I did say I wasn't a very good storyteller." he smiles.
As most of the summoned people start to loosen up, Kheti keeps her eyes open without stopping her meal. When she's done, she knots the cloth around the chicken bones and drops it back in one of the pockets of her bag.
"Well, it looks like half the Inner Sea dwellers have been called.", she says to herself before joining the talking.
"You're right on that point, Sir Paxton, enough of us will not see the sun rise in the next few days. So we can lighten a little today."
Bolest flashes yes another grin at Sir Wolfric. "I'll try not to make the betrayal too obvious or predictable. That wouldn't be any fun at all!" He chuckles and shakes his head. "In my experience, if you betray the people who you are supposed to support, it ends with a lot of blood and mess that doesn't need to happen."
He turns to the newcomer, a mischievous smile on his face, standing to his feet and adopting an otherwise somber tone. "Hello, Agnir! I'm Bolest, and I'm a recovering evil-doer. It's been four hours since my last evil act." He grins, and takes his seat again, listening to the story. A man who knows battle. Always a useful asset. Though it seems like most of those here are battle-tested.
"I...see. I'm probably going to regret asking this, but what did you do four hours ago?"
those knowledge rolls were to determine about this mysterious island and the conversation regarding prophecy. if there is any connections
Don't concern yourself ai knowledges just yet. You'll do that when you're split up into groups.
Bolest's face become very serious, to the point of being grave. "I... I'm ashamed to even say this. I fed a puppy." He sighs heavily. "It was just awful. The puppy was so excited, and ate so fast." Another sigh. "Still, we all make mistakes."
His face cracks just a little, a smile beginning to wiggle at the edge of his mouth. "Promise you won't hold it against me?"
Cooper was rather quiet. he did acknowledge the comments in memory of his fallen friends. though he still bears some scars of a deeper loss.
listening to Bolest speak of feeding a puppy, he managed to crack a small smile, but still something about that man, Alistair definately felt uneasy.
It would seem that many of us have had more than our fair share of dealing the undead.
Cooper was rather quiet. he did acknowledge the comments in memory of his fallen friends. though he still bears some scars of a deeper loss.
listening to Bolest speak of feeding a puppy, he managed to crack a small smile, but still something about that man, Alistair definately felt uneasy.
It would seem that many of us have had more than our fair share of dealing the undead.
"And I can't think it's just a coincidence we were all called here with those skills. This island mission is more than likely to involve lots of them."
Then she smiles at the fetchling last jest and replies to him. "I see you're trying very hard, master Nositel. And I've seen my share of wet-behind-the-ears recruits trying to fit in with lots of silly jokes. Not that I'm saying you're not competent in your own field. But believe me, if you go on poking at people, you're going to step on someone's toes a little too hard and and that will end up badly for someone. So if you're smart enough, keep on with your pupy jokes but stay away from the betrayal ones."
The last of the speach is delivered with her eyes right into the fetchling ones with the practiced tone of someone used to dealing with those issues.
The half-orc chuckles and says "Know not any of you your more recent magical history? No prophesy has come to pass since the disappearance of the Last Azlanti."
"You are right of course." Wolfric says to the half-orc. "But just because a prophesy has not reached fulfillment does not mean it is invalid or that it will not come to be in time. It is important to keep this truth in mind lest we grow complacent and miss the signs of changing time."
Growing slightly more somber, Wolfric addresses Bromen. "While I agree that those that create the undead should be rooted out and punished, I cannot think the undead are simply a symptom. I have seen the restless dead born of nothing more than hatred and malice. These are the fiends of nightmares, and I pray you never meet one."
"You are right of course." Wolfric says to the half-orc. "But just because a prophesy has not reached fulfillment does not mean it is invalid or that it will not come to be in time. It is important to keep this truth in mind lest we grow complacent and miss the signs of changing time."
Growing slightly more somber, Wolfric addresses Bromen. "While I agree that those that create the undead should be rooted out and punished, I cannot think the undead are simply a symptom. I have seen the restless dead born of nothing more than hatred and malice. These are the fiends of nightmares, and I pray you never meet one."
"But if you doubt Sir Paxton, just walk out of the city through the northern gate and go and explore what we call the Cairnlands."
Bolest quirks his eyebrows upward at Lady Kheti. "It's my job to poke and prod. If you never push the boundaries, you'll never find where they truly are. As I said, only an idiot actually betrays their companions. I'm very fond of being alive, and I intend to remain in this state of being as long as I can manage. You'll have to forgive the jests, but when you've seen the horrors I have, you find it's best to embrace pleasure where you can find it."
He turns to listen to the conversation about the undead, listening closely to the exchange, and notes the varying approaches and outlooks. Great. More undead to deal with? I was hoping to have left dealings with necromancy in the past.
Who said anything about undead? XD The description I stated mentioned lots of evil outsiders. Don't get me wrong, there will be undead present and prominent, but that doesn't mean they are going to be the bulk of what you would have to fight, and indeed if you play your cards right, and have a bit of luck, truth is, you won't fight... Much. Then again, in my experience, 99% of people either don't play their cards right or have terrible luck!
Wolfric nods his understanding. "Pardon my ignorance, but what can you all tell me about Ambrus Valsin and his Pathfinder Society? I admit to hearing very little, but I am suprised to find such an...array of belief systems present. Also, is it their custom to recruit from the streets for their important missions? Surely they have their own agents with more training. And another thing, why do they leave us to wait for so long? I'm not sure we can fit too many more bodies in here: especially if they are that size." He points to Max as if the gesture alone made his point.
Good questions, my erstwhile knight. Ones asked on nearly every outing they contrive...
"They are artificers." Marcum responds, right index finger tapping at his chin. "The Society has to manage the skilled and unskilled alike when it comes to resources. Valsin, like any good artificer, knows what tools are required for particulate tasks. His mind is sharp and quite equal to the task, I assure you."
"I think he has gathered those in this amphitheater with a specific goal in mind. And his keen eye will discern who is right for this mission.."
Marcum glances about the room. "News of an island suddenly appearing out of the water will spread like wildfire in the Molthuni grasslands. I wonder if by sending so many invitations, the Pathfinders seek to control the investigation of this event." He gestures in the air to match his blossoming conjecture. "Send the less able on less burdensome missions, keep them out of the way...perhaps even a little misdirection by seeding rumors as to their priorities..."
Who said anything about undead? XD The description I stated mentioned lots of evil outsiders. Don't get me wrong, there will be undead present and prominent, but that doesn't mean they are going to be the bulk of what you would have to fight, and indeed if you play your cards right, and have a bit of luck, truth is, you won't fight... Much. Then again, in my experience, 99% of people either don't play their cards right or have terrible luck!
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"You are right of course." Wolfric says to the half-orc. "But just because a prophesy has not reached fulfillment does not mean it is invalid or that it will not come to be in time. It is important to keep this truth in mind lest we grow complacent and miss the signs of changing time."
Growing slightly more somber, Wolfric addresses Bromen. "While I agree that those that create the undead should be rooted out and punished, I cannot think the undead are simply a symptom. I have seen the restless dead born of nothing more than hatred and malice. These are the fiends of nightmares, and I pray you never meet one."
upon overhearing this, he seems surprised and gives him a strange look. you sound like you are a prophet yourself. Or at least highly intelligent.