Before Themp drifts completely off to sleep Nme'an peers down at him, gives him a gentle kick, and says, The only reason you're keeping those is because they were given to you to begin with.
The court wizard looks up chewing, and waits to answer Beorae until after he gulps. “I see no problem with that. I’ll speak to the captain of the guard when we are finished here, so that guards know to give you and him some space in the courtyard.”
He eyes the flurry of consumption by the Urlghain warrior and chuckles, quietly turning back to his plate.
“Thank you, that would be greatly appreciated.”
Finished with her meal, Beorae leans back and lets the conversation take its course while sipping on her mead.
"Ms. Sevenstone," Nme'an began as the others ate... or slept, "you said you are from the town of Deeproot, correct? Do they still participate in the festival of the changing of the seasons along with Brakton? With the lights among the trees around Thass Lake? I haven't been home in... a while... but that was one of my favorite memories. Running through the forest at night while magic danced along from treetop to treetop." Nme'an lets out a quiet sigh as he thinks again of home.
At the mention of the seasonal festival, Beorae's ears perk up and her eyes brighten with fond memories. “Oh, yes, I love the festival! Funny you should mention the lights in the trees—my old druid instructor was in charge of those before he passed away a few years ago. That old man had quite a talent. I'm not sure who they have doing the lights now, but seeing them always brings fond memories.” At the thought of her old instructor, Beorae's eyes go to the table and a noticeable sadness creeps across her features for a brief moment before being replaced by a big smile. “Did you know, there was an old wizard in a gray pointy hat who came through last year and impressed everyone with his fireworks! They were quite the spectacle, I've never seen anything quite like it.”
“With all the excitement of the morning, I forgot that you said were from Brakton! I wonder if we ever ran into each other at the festival. Although if you haven't been for several years, I was probably a little stick of a girl chasing my rascal brothers around last time you were there. I imagine life here in the city has you fairly well-occupied, but you should make a point to come back for the festival!”
“So, how is it that a half-elf from Brakton came to be in the Order of the Dawnflower? That's quite an honor, it must have been a dramatic shift from country life. The tournament has kept me busy enough that I haven't had time to explore, but even then I'm feeling quite lost in this big city. How long did it take you to settle-in?”
Nme'an chuckles ruefully. "It sounds like we had slightly different childhood experiences. You ever hear the stories and rumors of shunned, half-elven outcasts? They’re exaggerations, usually, but not for me, or very nearly not. You see, my mother is Arana Aldael, daughter of Elder Aldael of Brakton. I was… am… her unintended third child, born of a brief rendezvous with a human after her husband had died of illness. I never knew my father, but I had my mother's love, and that of my two older elven brothers, just not that of my grandfather, or thus my town. Elder Aldael would not even let me take on the Aldael name. He..." Nme'an quickly trails off when he see’s the heartfelt look on the druid’s face, and realizes he has once again strayed too far into the negative.
”As for how I came here, he says more positively, ”I found my calling as a warrior when I helped defend Brakton against the large Goblin raid eleven years ago. He laughs a little and says, "I was younger than you are now, must have looked so pathetic, when I strapped on some training armor I had found and ran towards the battle. I acquitted myself surprisingly well, but… I had been planning to leave soon anyway and stayed true to my plans despite the raid. It took me another decade of hopping from town to town, but I eventually ended up here in Thaleniel as a member of the town watch. Then, about a year ago, The Order came to me with an offer, which I accepted. I have been training with them ever since.”
Nme’an takes another sip of his wine before continuing.
”As for meeting you, Ms. Sevenstone, I don’t think I would have. Given our differences in age I reckon I had likely left by the time you were chasing through the woods. At the very least I stopped going to… or rather was not allowed to go to the festival the last few years I lived in Brakton. He shrugs and says, "And no, I have not heard from the area for quite some time. My mother still lives there, along with my… surviving brother… but we do not communicate these days. I think I hurt them both far more than I realized at the time, leaving so soon after the Goblins had breached the walls..." he trails off once more.
"I would like to go back though, and see the festival again, Nme'an says, finishing on a happier note.
Mortimer Dacius listens politely to the exchange, and chimes in after Nme’an’s answer. “Ah, yes. We have similar festivals here, to celebrate the solstices of the seasons. The revels in the streets are a bit rowdy for my taste, though I usually enjoy a tall glass of strongwine and a good book on those days, or an invigorating evening of mathematical proofs.” He smiles happily at the memory, though his eyes remain tired. He sighs. “All the books I’ve read of late concern the health of good King Andreat, as joint-chief caretaker of his Highness with Father Jeromy, who tended your wounds in the antechamber.”
He smirks half-heartedly, idly pushing food across his plate, “But surely, book-reading is not nearly as exciting as you four. Miss Beorae, did you have to travel far to find your beast friend, Shark?”
“Oh, that is quite the story. Where to start? Well, my father is a fairly well-regarded stonemason. A little over a year ago he had a contract for a project in the Komat Mountains up north for the summer season. He took me with him for the trip, I think he thought it'd be good for me to see a bit of the world. We were near the end of our trip to the worksite—it was a half-moon journey—when we accidentally set camp near a tiger den. We had no idea until the mother tiger attacked the camp.” The druid bites her lip and takes a sharp breath before continuing, “I'm sure you've noticed my scar?”, touching a finger to her left cheek, “this is from that night. One of my father's guardsmen lost his life defending us, and Shark's mother swiped at me and very nearly knocked me out before the other guardsmen brought her down. It was sad to see such a powerful creature be killed.”
Glancing over her shoulder at the now-dozing tiger, Beorae continues, “Shark here was one of two cubs we found in the den after the attack, and that's when we realized that the mother was defending her home. I begged my father to let me keep the cubs. Shark's sister didn't survive the journey, but Shark here is pretty strong. He follows me everywhere I go and we seem to have a good understanding of one another. We're still working on communication, of course, but I think he's doing pretty well for his age.”
Popping another snowberry into her mouth, the druid turns back to the paladin, “It would be wonderful to see you at the summer festival, Nme'an. If you're free for the next one, be sure to send word and we'll have to arrange something.”
Finally, she turns to the big highlander who has been surprisingly quiet, “How about you, Mot? What's your story? Did you travel to Thaleniel just for the tourney?”
Tossing snow berries and catching them with his mouth, the oaf of a warrior nearly chokes as he attempts to answer while swallowing at the same moment. Coughing uproariously he hacks and gags before finally speaking, his loud heavy brogue filling the room. "Och noo lassie! Ah was joost passing troo!" He leans back in his seat and kicks his feet up onto the table. "Yoo see, Ah'm a roover, seldom soober. I'm a roover of high degree. When Ah'm drinking, Ah'm always thinkin' hoow to gain my looves company." He grins like an idiot and continues. "Ah've been a wild roover for many a year. And Ah've spent all mea mooney on whiskey and beer. One day Ah'll return with gold in great stoore. And Ah'll never play the wild roover no more." The barbarian winks at Beora and downs another bowl of the three-drink concoction.
Mot's cough wakes Themp up with a start. He immediately regrets it, as he slams his forehead into the underside of the table, almost knocking him back unconscious. After a few seconds of dizziness, he recovers and crawls out surreptitiously onto a chair.
Rubbing his forehead, he turns to the others and ask, "I'm afraid I wasn't much attentive these past few minutes. What is all this fuss about?"
The loud clunk is enough to disrupt conversation, and Shark makes a big yawn while looking over for the source of the noise as the rogue rises to his seat. “Are you, um, okay, Themp? That was quite a bump. We were just talking a bit about where we're from. Mot just gave a particularly… poetic response. How about you, what's your story?”
Nme'an glances back under the table upon hearing the thump, but Themp is nowhere to be found. By the time Nme'an looks back up again Themp has appeared in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the table looking. Impressive, except for that thump...
As Beorae takes notice of him, Themp immediately stops rubbing his head and pretends he had his head slumped on his hand all along.
With a mock hurt look on his face, he answers: "Why, Freckles, I've already told you my story." *wink* "But the big man over there hasn't heard it yet, so I think it's only fair I tell him too. After all, business partners shouldn't have" many "secrets with each other."
Standing up for dramatic effect, he slumps his shoulders a bit and drops his eyes to the floor.
"For as long as I can remember, I've been a poor street dweller, living exclusively off charity and trash. I consider myself incredibly lucky to be able to take part in such an important competition. Especially with such delightful company." he adds, winking at Beorae, smiling at Mot and giving a curt nod to Nme'an.
"Well, you won't need to rely on others any more," Nme'an says, hearing a fair amount of truth in Themp's words. For the first time in your life you will have a task assigned to you that is worth performing, and you'll be able to repay those who have show you such charity. The chance to fight and struggle and, if necessary, die for the kingdom and its people has long been my desire. I am glad you will get to share these things with me!"
The court wizard nods, listening to those at the table. At the knight’s mention of dying for his country, he slowly begins to rise, struggling against his old joints. “It is my hope that such a tragedy can be avoided, but I will not deny an element of danger in the task I put before you. I’m glad all of you enjoyed your meal, but now seems an apt transition to our business.”
He nods to the servant that ushered the four into the court, who leads three other servants, each of them carrying a small chest. One servant stops beside Mot, Themp, Nme’an, and Beorae, and lift the lids to display a mass of gold coins. “The five-hundred gold prize to each of you, as promised. I’ve prepared guest rooms for you in the castle. If you would like to purchase gear with your winnings of this tournament, tell me what you intend to procure and I shall personally see that those items will be ready by morning, and you can focus on resting.”
Other servants begin clearing the table of food as Mortimer Dacius clasps wrinkled hands behind his back. “As many know, the king is deathly ill. Father Jeromy and myself have tried everything -healers of renown, experienced physicians, naturalist shaman,” he nods acknowledgingly to Beorae, “even the strange customs of foreign friends. Nothing has worked. We are out of options. At least, so I thought until one month ago.”
He pauses dramatically, meeting the two men and two half-elves’ gaze to ensure he had their attention. “There is one legend, far-fetched, to say the least, that if found to be true, could restore the king to full health. In ages past, long before the royal Andreat house united the people of Vyren under one crown, there lived a wizard of unparalleled power. Ithalgol, was his name. He lived in a tall stone keep just beyond the Komat Mountains, built on an island at the center of Stillwater Lake. Ever-hungry was his mind, always eager for more knowledge, and greater power. Those gifted with arcane ability constantly sought his teaching, in hopes of just an inkling of his unfathomable knowledge. He made many discoveries and advancements in the field of magical study, but his greatest achievement was also his most closely guarded secret.” He pauses again, leaning over the cleared table. One of the hands from behind his back holds a map that he unrolls over the darkwood. He points to Ithalgol’s Keep on the northern end of the map. “Later in his life, it was known that Ithalgol worked to discover a spell that would bestow eternal life. Accounts vary on the level of his success, but all agree that he was unable to attain everlasting life, else he would be with us today. There are a few records that allude to a spell he created in this pursuit that would rejuvenate old bones, and bring verve back to the infirm.”
The court wizard straightens and a distant, remembering look covers his eyes. “I would not have considered the legend as an option if I thought I had any other to consider. If this spell exists, it will be found in his tower. I presented this possibility to Prince Titus, and he rallied twenty of his bravest knights and rode north in all haste, to save his father from peril. We received no word of their success for one month, and now I fear the worst.”
Old Mortimer closes his eyes ruefully, sighs, and opens his gaze to the party of four. “So, it falls to you: Thaleniel’s champions. Your mission shall be two-fold. Firstly, find this fabled spell of Ithalgol, and learn what has become of Prince Titus and his knights. With any luck, one objective will lead to the other. I shall make arrangements for you to depart in the morning.”
“Now,” he smiles knowingly, “Do you have any questions?”
"My list of needs is quite simple as I came fairly well prepared. First, seeing to my performance today against the wolves I would like to procure a set of masterworked banded mail armor. The extra protection will prove useful to me, I think. Second, I would like to purchase a single potion of Cure Light Wounds. I suggest everyone do so as they will be of great use to us should we engage in combat again. And finally," he say, making this request a bit more quietly than the last two, "I would like to request a vial of antitoxin. I usually carry one with me at all times but... isortaleftmineathomeaccidentally."
With his request made, Nme'an politely closes the lid to the chest placed near him.
Mots eyes grow round as the chest of gold is placed before him. Running a meaty hand through the coinage, his eyes glint with the reflection of the gilded yellow. For a moment it seems he will forgo spending a coin of it. But the moment is swiftly gone. "Aye, there's a many things Ah woold like! Farstly Ah saw a man in yon toornament wielding a great blitherin chain with a bahl attached. Ah whant mea oone of those!" He pantomimes swinging a weapon over his head before smashing his fist into the table with a resounding thud.
"Ahn oone of thoose fancy wooden shieelds, that yoo can whip oot right quick." He massages at the small scar on his knee where the wolf bit him earlier. Picking at the worn leather straps of is armor, he looks over at Nme'an in his heavy kit before turning back to the wizard. "Alsoo, Ah want knew aarmor. Soomthing light, but with wee little metally bits all oover it!" The burly man holds his fingers close together when mentioning the metal bits. Taking hold of the releases on his leather armor, he fiddles with them for a minute or two before just pulling the whole thing off over his head. The barbarian now sits wearing naught but the armored tartan of his Highland clan. "Yoo mighten sell this for me naow, seein' as Ah woont be needin it any longer."
He straightens up and casts one long look at the pile of gold before remembering; "Och! Oone last thing! A tuuning fork for mea pipes! They've been soounding a wee bit off lately." He grins that big snaggle-toothed grin and leans back in his seat.
She knew the gold was coming eventually, but nothing could have prepared her for the feeling that rushed through her when the boxes were opened, specifically the brief dumbfoundedness. The four boxes were certainly an impressive sight to behold with the gold pieces shining brilliantly in the light from the narrow windows.
Moving forward, she discretely closes the lid on the small chest as she speaks her turn, “I don't know what to say other than that I am honored to be selected for this quest. Of course I will do whatever I can to aid the realm.”
After thinking a brief moment, the druid shifts her feet and launches into a list, “If my last trip into the Komat Mountains serves as any indication, I should probably have a few more armaments at my disposal. I'd like to purchase a scimitar, three more daggers, and two shortspears. Nme'an is right, too, I would be remiss to not stock up on a few potions, despite their price. How about… two vials of Cure Light Wounds and an Antitoxin for good measure. And I'd like to find a simple necklace of twine or string to display my holly and mistletoe, if that's doable.”
With the simple parts of her list satisfied, Beorae continues with an item that she isn't as certain about. “Also, I've always loved Darkwood for its lightness and strength, but never imagined I'd be able to afford anything made from it. Do you think it would be possible to procure a Darkwood shield before we leave in the morning? I know they can be somewhat difficult to come by, but I was hoping that a master craftsman in Thaleniel would have one available for sale.” Turning to the now-almost-naked Mot, Beorae is both amused and horrified at the highlander's lack of decorum in the throne room. Suppressing a laugh, she says, “And Mot, if you'd like this shield that I have now, you're welcome to it—providing that the Court Wizard can find me the Darkwood one, of course. I bought it for the tourney and it's still in pretty decent shape.”
Turning back to Dacius, the druid continues, “I don't know how long the trip to this Keep of Ithalgol is, so will we need to prepare any provisions? And finally, now that I've said all of that, is there anything that you would recommend that we bring that I'm obviously missing?”
Themp had been let down by others far too many times in his life to truly believe the 500 pieces would be given out. For all he knew, it would 500gp for the four of them to share amongst each other. If even that.
When the servant opened his treasure chest, Themp almost burst out in laughter. Not only it was a ridiculous amount of money for those menial challenges and killing a wolf dozens of feet away, there was also more money in that chest than he had ever spent, earned and expected to see in his life. Summed.
Completely dumbstruck, he thought This much gold... For a meek competition...
A sudden flash of wide-eyed wonder. I can barely imagine what they would give me in return of the king's well-being!
After what probably seemed like an eternity to the others, but a quick moment to Themp, he gathered up his wits-- Let's if they can keep up. Heck, let's see how resourceful they are. --and babled, almost too fast for comprehension:
"I'll have you take my crossbow and bolts, my leather armor and my toolkit if you can bring me 20 tindertwigs, a make-up and dress-up kit and a mastercrafted armor not unlike my own. In fact, throw in a mastercrafted toolkit exactly like mine as well.
"I'm sure I could also use a shortbow... No, make that a composite shortbow. You can even get it tightened a bit down. I'll need 100 arrows with it. And if you can find any more, the same healing potion the others are looking for."
With a wild glint in his eyes, Themp suddenly silences, eager to feel like a rich man with servants to do his biddings.
Well, I am rich right now, right? Not for long if they manage the whole of my list, but in no time we'll be over this tower the old man speaks of and be richer, much, much richer.
Scratching idly at his fur covered chest a thought occurs to Casns. "Tha Koomat Mouuntins are quite a ways off. Are wea to walk tha distance?" He asks the wizard before trying to figure if he could eat any more of the feast still before them.
The court wizard taps his fingers against his other hand as he counts off the requests of the four, nodding in affirmation. He frowns at Beorae’s request for the shield of rare wood, but amiably assures that such a shield will be acquired by sunrise. “I would prepare for a seven day journey to Ithalgol’s Keep on foot,” he answers the druid, “pack enough trail rations for 15 days in case nothing can be foraged along the way.”
After delegating the requests to the four gold-bearing servants, he shrugs in answer the hairy Urlghain. “Well, that is up to you. I’m sure at least one of you,” Mortimer inclines his head to the Nme’an, “is capable on a horse. Surely time is of the essence, but haste will be made waste if you do not know how to ride one. I have horses to lend to you from the royal stables -they are hardy and do not flinch away from battle.”
He regards the map, and after a moment points to Emestar River. “The current of the Emestar is too strong to attempt a vessel upstream, but perhaps the swift waters can be useful on your return. Study it carefully as you travel north alongside it -if there are too many rapids, it may be too dangerous to attempt. The locals in Axton will know the river better than I.”
Hearing the half-elfs offer, the big man jumps to his feet and moves to investigate the piece. Attempting to strap it to his arm, he notices the leather is trimmed to fit the willowy arm of the little woman. "Ha! This mae doo ett. Thoogh Ah'll need soom new straps!" Walking to his trunk of gold he grabs a couple of coins from the pile and moves them to Beoras chest. "There, noow ett's mahn!" He returns to his seat examining his new prize, testing it's heft and balance.
When the wizard speaks of their travel options he again speaks up. "I dinnea like boats. What with hoo thea rool and tip!" Bringing a meaty hand to scratch at his beard he continues. "Ah've never ridden a horse befoor. But Ah'm willin tah try!"
Beorae smiles at Mot's attempt to equip the shield. “I hope you like the shield, I think it has some luck in it—it's gotten me here, after all!”
Turning back to the wizard, she continues, “Given the timeliness of our situation, I think mounts would be helpful. I'm no expert on horseback, but I've ridden a few times.” But the rogue certainly hasn't… Hmm…. She bites her lip for a brief moment while she weighs options, “Themp, you and I are both lightweight; you could probably ride with me and keep your bow at the ready in case there's trouble.” She smiles at the rogue, hoping that he takes her meaning.
I can ride a horse well enough, though mounted combat has never much agreed with me," Nme'an says. "Armed combat is best performed with your own two feet on the ground... or so I've always thought," he adds.
"Back to the subject of rations, would it also be possible to obtain 10 extra Trail Rations?" he asks, addressing the Court Wizard. "If there is one thing I have learned about life on the road it is to never travel with a merely sufficient amount. Why I once had an odd creature who was escorting me through a tricky area dump the majority of our rations and blame it on my friend who was traveling with me!"
Deliberately ignoring Beorae's subtext (though not with a flash of blush, quickly recovered), Themp doesn't miss a heartbeat.
"Well, Freckles, I would never turn down such a generous offer. It's not every day the lady invites me for a ride. I usually have to work for it!" *wink*
Nme'an tries, but ultimately fails, to maintain a straight face. Instead he lets a single, quiet chuckle slip out.
Beorae immediately throws a quick, unamused glance at Nme'an and utters a single, evenly-pronounced word in Elven, “Makini.” Turning back to the thief, she switches seamlessly into Common, “…of course, if you'd rather wrangle a horse all by your yourself, please don't let me stop you.” She throws a completely deadpan wink right back at him.
Turning to the group as a whole, the druid offers assistance with meals, “I'll get some rations as well, but I should be able to provide at least some sustenance along the journey. I'll get ten just in case,” she says as she counts out five gold coins from the chest in front of her. She's about the close the lid again when she stops and grabs one more coin, “And a sack of apples, as well. For the horses.”
"Oh, don't get me wrong, Red. I'll be very much glad to ride all snuggled up with you. In fact, I'll even chip in on the food."
Themp picks up 5 gold pieces as well.
"Here, let's find some 10 days worth of food."
"Msamaha wangu, ingawa naamini wewe mwenyewe kufunguliwa kwa neno ilo, mvulana mdogo, ghafi kama ilivyokuwa," Nme'an says in reply, with the tiniest hint of amusement still in his voice. Turning away from Beorae he addresses Mortimer Dacius, "If there is nothing else, I would take my leave to begin preparing my things for our journey and to say my evening prayers. I suspect I may need to find some small measure of repentance this night...", he says, casting a glance and a brief smile back in the Druid's direction.
She mutters, “Indeed…” as the paladin turns to Dacius. “…oh, what did I get myself into?” She opens her mouth to fire off a retort—something about live prey and a suggestion that the rogue help train Shark for combat—but thinks better of it and decides to move along with business.
The druid snaps her fingers, the single, sharp crack ringing out across the expansive throne room. An instant later, Shark appears at her heels, sitting on his haunches attentively. Waiting until Nme'an finishes speaking with Dacius, Beorae chimes in, “Agreed. Shark and I have several hours of training still before us and it would be best to use the daylight while we can. And thank you for the offer of a room at the castle, I will be more than happy to accept. As for myself, I will meditate for an hour at sunrise before we depart. What time shall we break our fast and plan to be on our way?”
“I would like for you to depart at first light,“ Court Wizard Mortimer Dacius answers the druid. He glances at the young scoundrel, then the huge warrior. “If you would like some practice in a saddle, I’m sure our stablemaster would be willing to oblige. The royal stables are found on the south side of the castle.”
He address the whole group, “Now, I must leave you to check the good king’s condition. Martin here will show you the rooms prepared for you. Miss Beorae, the training dummy should already be in place. If any of you have questions that a guard or servant cannot answer, please send a servant to come find me.”
He nods a farewell, and quietly turns with urgent, hobbled steps to the double doors on the right side of the court. Servants begin taking the leftover food back the kitchens. The angle of the sunlight beaming through the narrow windows is changed since the champions sat down to the enormous feast -the sun is beginning its descent from the top of the sky.
The servant Martin who earlier escorted them from the antechamber to the banquet stands waiting, smiling politely.
"Ho! Tha nights far too yoong to dally aboot with tha wee horsies." Scooting his seat back as the towering man rises to his feet and shoves two shovel sized hands into his pile of gold. Withdrawing twin fists of glimmering coinage he shoves them into his kilt and they emerge empty. Any observers are left to wonder where exactly he's storing the gold.
Walking over to where the rogue lounges by the long table he reaches out and bodily lifts the thin man from his spot, depositing Themp on his feet next to him.
"Coom naow weasily boyo. This is yoor city, yoor gonna take mea where the beer is staout, and the woomen staouter still!" Mot turns his exposed barrel chest towards their other two companions. "Yoo of course are welcoom to join us if yoo will!" The big man tries to wink at both Beora and Nme'an, at the same time. All that comes across is a friendly blink with his wide mouth open in a tremendous smile.
“I think… I'll pass. But thank you for the offer.” The druid is certain that the outing isn't her sort of adventure, especially with the mention of "stout women." And plus there is work to do!
Beorae addresses the servant, “If you would be so kind, Martin, I'd like to see the rooms and drop my things off before Shark and I begin training.” She turns back to the group to see if anyone else is coming, “Is anyone else coming, or should I plan to see you at dawn?”
"I suspect my saying so may not mean much," Nme'an says to Mot, "But I would strongly suggest you reconsider your plans. Tomorrow we are setting out with a very important mission. Tonight would best be served by resting or readying yourself for the morning, not by drinking or whoring. At the very least I'd ask you to remember that we are being charged with an important service to the kingdom. Any... disruption... that would jeopardize that mission would not be looked kindly on by the court, or by me."
Nme'an hears the druid's own rejection and nods. He thinks for a moment and then offers, "Ms. Sevenstone, if you would permit me, I would like to watch how you train your companion. If I am to be putting my life in your tiger's hands... paws... once more it might help if he got to know me better. I may even be able to assist you and Shark. While I am certain you have a much greater affinity with animals than I, I do have some small skill in working with them."
After recovering from the shock of being completely helpless in the big man's grip, Themp again turns on his charming at-ease facade and winks at the paladin.
"Oh, lighten up, knight-in-shining-armor! We don't want the barbarian all stressed out, do we? He needs some relief before he can focus on any task, especially yours..." *cough* "ours at hand."
Turning to Mot, he continues, a noticeable glint in his eyes. "Big man, my partner, it'd be my pleasure to show you the best places for entertainment for guys like us in my town. Do you mind mixing up women and beer or do you prefer to stock on one before the other?"
Beorae is surprised at the paladin's offer but gladly accepts, “I think that's an excellent idea, Nme'an! A lot of people find him intimidating, but Shark is really quite wonderful once you get to know him. And I'll take all the help I can get with training him for combat.”
The red druid says goodbye to Mot and Themp, “I have to agree with Nme'an, but I can't tell you what to do. Just be safe, alright? We'll see you two in the morning, and remember: dawn comes early.” She manages a half smile, at least.
Clipping Shark's leash, the druid crooks the small chest of winnings under her arm and follows Martin out of the throne room with the paladin and tiger in tow.
____________________________________________
“Thank you, Martin” she says as he indicates the door to her quarters. Handing him the six gold coins from earlier, she continues, “Can you arrange to have ten travel rations and a small sack of apples delivered to my room? We will be busy for several hours, so please leave them inside if we're still training.”
She opens the door and looks around at the simple but nice accommodations. She sets the chest on a table against the wall before dropping her pack on the bed. While Shark sniffs around the room, the druid plucks the sprig of Holly from the pouch on the side of her pack and puts it in her pocket. Looking back at the chest, she frowns and decides that discretion is probably best. Taking a few moments to rearrange her pack, Beorae tucks the chest safely at the bottom of her pack under her travel gear.
Deciding that everything appears to be in-place, the druid and her tiger exit the room and meet Nme'an in the hallway before heading down to the courtyard.
"Och, Pretty Pally, Ah'm insulted!" The ever-present smile suggests that the big barbarian is feeling anything but insulted at the moment. "Drinkin' an' whooren? Ah'm gooin' ta mae evenen prayers!" He slaps a heavy hand across Themps shoulders. "Tha Accidentl God dinnae offer dreenks ta himself!"
Impossibly the smile grows as he looks down on the woman and her tiger. "Dinnae woory yoorself, Ah've goot mea own champee-on here." He gently shakes the rogue by his shoulders.
"Naow champee-on, Ah find the best places fer mea meditations is where tha twoo are mixed." He looks down towards the man, query on his face.
"Aha!" Themp exclaims while being viciously shaken by the barbarian.
"Worry not, my friend, for I will take you to the best place my town can offer for men like us!"
Nme'an follows the half elf, servant, and the tiger through the castle to the wing that held their rooms. He goes to check on his own room while Beorae inspects hers and is pleasantly surprised to see his orders have already started to arrive. He finds a corked vial of distinctive green, bubbly antitoxin laying on his bed next to a thick glassed container of Cure Light wounds. Then, on the floor at the foot of the bed was a small, neatly ordered pile of bundled up trail rations.
"Excuse me sir!" an errand boy, maybe 12 or 13 years of age said as he squeezed past Nme'an and stacked two more sets of rations on the pile before hurrying back off in the direction he came.
Nme'an chuckled slightly at the speed of the service then pulled his heavy shield from among his things and rejoined Beorae and Shark in the hallway. Together they followed Martin to the training area.
Nme’an, Beorae, and Shark find the courtyard cleared of the crates used to for their previous tournament. The cheering crowds from before are long gone. All traces of violence and wolf remains are missing (though Shark seems to occasionally sniff the air and bare her teeth). In one corner, a jousting dummy is mounted on a stake in the ground. Another jousting dummy leans against the nearest stone wall. As always, guardsmen stand at attention at the doors and atop the walls, but all give the three and their training area a good distance.
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At this time of day, the streets will be fairly crowded. With all the people in the streets, the walk there may take as long as twenty-five minutes.
The guardsmen admit Mot and Themp outside of the castle wall gates, onto clean paved streets. A handful of lingering fanfare cheer for the two, but otherwise the streets are busy again with the day’s business. The road leads them past stone buildings; wealthy tradesmen displaying fine wares and mansions of the privileged make up a majority of the structures visible to the road. Most folk here keep a clean appearance, and Themp notices a greater number of city guards walking the streets than the areas where more common folk live and work.
As they stroll down the gates, Themp happily nudges Mot and engage in small talk.
"Ah, my good friend, you will have quite a good time at this place I skulk around in. It's just out of the rich quarter, so pickpo..." *cough* "engaging in my usual business practices is far less risky than farther downhill."
"Anyway, what are your prospects in this town, once we get through with this silly errant?"
"Say, did you hear something?"
The druid points Nme'an to the dummy standing in the courtyard, “Make sure it's attached firmly, we don't want it falling over.” While he does that, Beorae unclips Shark's leash and whispers to him, “Okay, buddy, Nme'an and I are going to get you to attack!” Once the dummy is secure, Beorae lays out the plan, “We're going to work on directing attacks so that he's more manageable in combat. I'll start working with him, but stick close to me so that he's comfortable with your presence. Once he gets a little more limbered-up, we'll try having you give a few commands. Sound good?”
She takes a few minutes to get Shark warmed-up by chasing him and getting him in a rowdy spirit. After the long day, it's tricky getting his blood up, but he eventually gets there and even makes a few swipes and bites at the dummy when directed.
After a solid thirty minutes of constant work and movement, Beorae's brow is dotted with sweat. Turning to the paladin, she hands over control. “Remember, keep your voice firm and your intent clear. Let's see how he does…”
"Shark, attack!" Nme'an commands, and at first it seems to work.
The gray tiger launches in the direction indicated, leaving deep claw marks in the ground as his powerful strides kick up bits of dirt. But instead of tackling the target dummy, or swiping at it, or even slowing to growl at it, Shark speeds right on by! He only slows as he nears the portcullis. He stops momentarily to scoop something up in his mouth then sprints back to Nme'an stopping before him to drop a small red rubber ball at the Paladin's feet before sitting on his hind legs and waiting for a new command.
"A child must have left it earlier today..." Nme'an muses as he inspects the ball. "Eh... maybe you should try..." he says to Beorae.
"Thalenial? Ha, nooo laddie. Ah was just passen troo wen Ah heard aboot tha toournament." The barbarian reaches back and scratches at his back, where normally his greatsword hung. Planning on nothing more than a simple drink, the large man left his sword and spear at the castle, in care of the attending servants. "Wen we're troo with our nooble deed, Ah imagine Ah'll keep to wanderin'. Ah haven been hoome in soome time, maybe Ah'll visit the Highlands, or exploore the daark oof tha Spindlewoo'." At the rogues remark, Mot tilts his head, right ear pointing at the sky.
Both Mot and Themp notice a messenger boy keeping pace twenty feet behind them. At first glance, he appears to be delivering messages through the richer parts of town, by his fine attire and clean face. However, a glaring inconsistency catches the attention of the pair. The boy’s patched, dirty trousers are a sharp contrast to his embroidered vest and collared shirt, and the two champions think they spotted him studying the coin pouches at their belts. When he sees the two look at him, the boy suddenly becomes very interested in the shop to his right and stops following Mot and Themp.
The druid smiles softly as the paladin's face goes from excitement to disappointment in the blink of an eye. “Hmm… he's not seeming to cooperate. It was a good effort, though. We're going to keep training, you're more than welcome to stay if you like.”
For the next few hours, Beorae and Shark work with the target dummy. After a while the cloth-and-straw figure slumps helplessly to the ground. The druid exchanges the worn-out dummy for the one slumped in the corner before starting another round of attack maneuvers and commands.
It's well into twilight by the time they finish training, and the two jousting dummies are heaps of cloth and straw by the time everything is finished. Wiping the sweat from her eyes, Beorae piles their remains near the stake and then gives Shark a scratch between the ears while reattaching his leash. “That'll do, cat. That'll do.” She rubs the bridge of his nose and his chin, and smiles as the beast can't help but give a slight chuff.
The druid pats Nme'an on the shoulder as they turn back toward the castle. “Hey, shukrani kwa ajili ya kufanya kazi na sisi jioni hii. Ilikuwa ni nzuri kwa kuwa na kampuni, na mimi nina uhakika ni kubwa kwa Shark kuwa na baadhi ya yatokanayo na mtu mwingine wakati yeye ni mafunzo.” Smiling, she hands him the leash, “Here, try his leash while we head back. I don't know about you, but I'm going to go clean up before bed. I'm beat and tomorrow is going to be an early start. And I still need to pack.”
As the three of them walk the corridors back to the guest suites, her thoughts go to Mot and Themp, “I hope the other two aren't getting themselves into too much trouble,” she muses with a half smile.
Turning about the Casns warrior eyes the boy suspiciously. "Oy there boyo! Whae do yoo think yoo're up to?"
The boy, no older than twelve, looks at the highlander as though seeing him for the first time, and points questioningly at himself. Wearing a cheerful smile, the well-dressed messenger boy skips up to the two, sparing a glance at the guardsmen across the street. “Just finished my last delivery. Is there any message I could -” the boy gasps, pointing, “you’re the highlander from the tournament!” He turns the point to Themp, “and you’re the guy with the crossbow! You shot a wolf!”
The boy’s exclamations begin to draw a few looks, including some from the guards. His eyes are bright with admiration, though they seem to linger on Themp's crossbow for a moment. “Where are you headed? Can I help? Deliver something? Take a message? Run an errand?” The messenger boy hops eagerly from one foot to the other.
"Hoho! Indeed Ah ahm lad! An he is tooo!" Beaming that great smile Mot indicates Themp next to him. "But Ah dinnae need any help toonigh, mae tasks are noot fer wee little boyos! Ha!" He laughs at his jest, while ribbing his companion in the shoulder.