The current occupants of White Keep slowly filter into one of the ancient castles numerous and chillingly cold common rooms.
Twenty and one they number, and only half that fit enough to hunt, gather and provide for the group.
With supplies dwindling, and members of the group dying off weekly it was palpable that Derth Lovthorn had called the meeting to see who would volunteer to quest again for supplies and survivors.
The human, Derth Lovthorn, White Keeps current Lord Stands before the group; his brutish comrade, Groll, whom Derth claims as a brother, stands silently beside the man.
You don’t know Derth that well, hell, you don’t really know anyone that well because its simply been to hard to get to know who anyone really is with all that has occurred. More than that, it seems as if all of the members of the group, with the expectation of Derth, his brother, yourself and a handful of others have been in a perpetual state of shock since coming to White Keep.
Derth pipes up, “Alright everyone, all of us are almost here. I want to wait until the others show up before we get started with this meeting.”
Derth turns to Groll and begins conversing in hushed tones.
Aurengil, tall and erect, appeared in the refined formal robes he wore in his homeland, not a single lock of his long white hair ever out of place, nor even the smallest hint of lint or wrinkles in his clothes. His gaze seemed to pass over and through everyone in the great room, as though he were viewing a reality separated from the one in which he appeared to stand. He gave at once the impression of great age and of the first blush of youth as if he were part of a deeper, more ancient version of reality. Though none could say why, each who viewed him felt vaguely as though the tall elf looked somehow into them and knew their innermost hearts.
Upon his left hand and wrist he wore a thick leather falconry glove and upon that glove stood a hawk wearing neither jesses nor hood and which regarded those about it with a piercing gaze nearly the equal to its master's.
Aurengil bowed when Lord Derth entered the room, a courtly gesture not commonly seen in the rough and dangerous world of the White Keep, but the elf made no attempt to converse, acknowledging by word and gesture those whom he knew when they arrived.
Aurengil's entrance was dignified and almost otherworldly.
Petra's was not.
The dwarf arrived at the door of the room a little out of breath, having run up from the cellars where she'd been taking an inventory of their dwindling stocks. Her methodical nature made her a good choice for dull tasks like compiling lists.
Red-faced from the jog, Petra gave everyone a nod around and flopped into one of the chairs in the room.
She flipped open her battered journal and thumbed through the stained pages to get to the back. She'd run out of ink several weeks ago, and the newer entries in the journal were dirty and smudged, as she'd used a stick of charcoal to make her notes, and the charcoal was quite messy.
"...low on arrows, firewood, and rats have gotten into the flour," she muttered, speaking the words to herself as she scribbled down her findings. She has awful handwriting, exacerbated by the difficulty of writing legibly with a burnt stick. Anyone glancing at her journal would be forgiven if they thought it was the work of a chicken's feet.
"Aurengil! Don't suppose you can peer into the mists of the realms beyond--" (Petra makes a wiggly wavy gesture with her hands) "--and tell us where we can find a functioning bakery? Ha!"
Aurengil stares into the middle distance and then says "Not functioning, no. I perceive no baked goods in your future for some while." It isn't clear whether he understood the joke or not.
"Damn," Petra sighs, and resumes tallying things in her book. She just assumes Aurengil has a staff up his elven ass at all times-- not a bad chap, as elves go, just.... so serious.
She supposes they can't help it anymore than they can help the pointy ears.
"I'd accept the nearest location of buildings we can scavenge for firewood. We've wiped out everything within an easy trip, I think," she says glumly. But it'll be up to Derth to decide where they'll go.
She just assumes Aurengil has a staff up his elven ass at all times
"Such scrying is beyond my present abilities," says Aurengil with equanimity. He indicates the hawk. "But I have been sending Calithil to scout. I must concur. With the exception of a few unexplored ruins, little remains within a day's march which we have not already scavenged. That is, I presume, the subject of our new lord's address."
Petra eyes the hawk with suspicion. Animals are meant to stay on the ground, dammit. With the possible exception of bats, but... eh.
She scratches at an itchy patch on the back of her head (soap is another commodity hard to obtain, at least for Petra) and nods ruefully at Aurengil's words.
"Well, hopefully the boss has some direction for us, aye. Anything other than sittin' on our hands and contemplating chewing our belt leather since we're out of jerky counts an improvement for me."
A small chuckle from the darkness on the other side of the cold fireplace, and Jon emerges, squinting, into the light.
"We're on a lake, whey not fish?" Jon suggests, self-deprecatingly referencing a disastrous suggestion he made when he first arrived.
"But if you're ready to start eating clothes, then you've got a problem I can help with. Anything in particular you want that belt to taste like? Oranges? Juicy steak? Bacon..."
Jon trails off then snaps back
"Let's go get some food. Petra's not the only one getting hungry."
Petra jumps a little. It's always eerie to her, how damn quietly their, uh, 'friend' can move. And her skin always craws a little in his presence.
Isn't nothin' personal. He's a nice enough chap. Friendly. Obligin'.
Just makes her skin crawl, that's all.
She musters a smile for him all the same. "Bacon-- by the depths, I miss bacon. I doubt there's a pig left within a hundred miles."
She looks towards their leader, to see if he is still absorbed in dire discussion with his second.
"I came across a farm that had bacon a few weeks before I came here. I could smell it cooking from half a mile away. The whole area near it was covered in pit traps - empty ones."
"Perhaps I should've known something was up when they greeted me with open arms, but I didn't realise how far I'd gone. Gave me a plate of bacon and pork chops. Thought I'd found paradise. I asked how they'd managed to keep pigs and they looked at each other."
"There was a girl, looked about thirteen. She told me they'd run out of pigs - before her father shushed her. I got out of there quick, but looked around, after."
"They must have run out of food and then realise the traps were full of meat, in a way."
"I almost didn't get out of there. I couldn't kill the girl. Tried the cure on her - but I got something wrong. She told me she was fine, but her teeth - like a jackal. And the smell. I had to burn her to the bone before she'd stop moving."
Jon shakes his head at the memory, then realises where he is.
"Sorry. Talking about bacon brings it back."
Oh yes, the meeting, I almost forgot. And I am already late, better hurry. Karmuk piles into the meeting room in such a rush that he hardly notice who is present, except Derth and Groll of course.
Sir! I am sorry I am late, sir. Usually I am punctual.
Karmuk arrived in White Keep two weeks ago. He was ordered to help White Keep to investigate and eliminate undead threat... "minor undead threat", that's how intelligence department described it.
I don't understand why they sent me here. It is not even our business. Why don't humas solve their own problems.
Even Aurengil pales when he hears Jon's story. Part of his mind wants to believe that elves are above such mere human savagery. The rest of his mind chills at the thought. He knows that under the right circumstances, his people are capable of exactly that and probably far worse.
He sighs. "You did the only thing you could, Jon," he says.
As Karmuk arrives in a rush, the elf looks to Petra. "One of your cousins, lady?" he asks.
Karmuk hears someone talking and suddenly realises, to his surprise, that some recruits are already gathered into the meeting room. So far he has mostly met people who have not been in state to be helpful.
An elf? What is elf doing here? Most of them are anarchistic chaos worshiping enemies of Abadar, but hey, I am on mission, and it is not to convert heretics. Best to introduce myself politely.
Karmuk checks who else is in the room...
The elf he already noticed, looks like some sort of caster. That's good. Casters are always powerful allies in combat.
Then he notices another dwarf. Excellent! I don't know what's her role, but she definitely looks strong and healthy.
And then there is that thin feeble looking human, who obvious isn't feeling well.
Karmuk draws close to Aurengil and whispers: "Don't turn, don't look back, try to act normally... but I think that there is one in the room, who is infected.
Save for the six residents with extraordinary skill sets the other occupants of The White Keep sit so silent and somber they might as well be dead already. Anyone can tell just by a look that most of them have lost hope.
Derth and Groll stop talking as everyone enters the meeting chamber.
Karmuk, Kyranda, glad you could join us. I was beggining to wonder if you went outside alone. The last thing we need is another half-dead on our hands. Derth looks toward Jon and offers a wink, but Groll stares coldly at the sorcerer.
Alright, lets get started. Who's hungry? I know I am, any volunteers to go out again?
Jon raises his hand.
Petra gives Karmuk the nod of one dwarf meeting another. Trustworthy fellow person who stands at a reasonable four-to-five feet, a SAFE distance from the ground, as opposed to bobbing about in the wind like a willow! She'd do the dwarf fist-bump, but it's too gangster for the likes of the rest of you to see.
Jon's story makes her own stomach churn. There go all the happy thoughts of bacon. She gives him a queasy grimace. "...thank you for that, Jon, if we do, by luck of the gods, find bacon there's no way I'll enjoy it."
At Derth's words, though, her hand shoots up a second after Jon's. "Sir, yes sir! I have the recent tally of the stores if you need it-" it had been a quick tallying, as low as they are, "--and I for one am eager to forage, sir! Contrary to popular rumor dwarves cannot eat stones, sir! Though this keeps up, I may have to try it..."
You know that one lieutenant in the platoon who has actually read the full manual of protocol and remembers it, not out of some great bookworm-ness but just because they're the sort of person who likes lists and numbered columns and rules and things to be nice and orderly? That's Petra.
Karmuk raises his hand, while still whisper with Aurengil.
Karmuk notices how Perta nods to him and he gives a bow to her. Somehow she seems to be very reliable, maybe I should say something nice to her, but I don't what to say. He just smiles.
But she is talking to IT? Apparently she knows him. Very strange, doesn't she notice that he is clearly on of THEM. I have to be very careful not to provoke him or consequence could be fatal. Maybe we can make surprise attack with the elf. I am sure together we are able to tackle such a week creature without casualties.
Aurengil gives the dwarven newcomer a wintry look. "You speak of what you do not know. Have a care, Master Dwarf. I should think that your folk would be particularly keen to know what lies beneath the surface of a thing before judging its worth."
When the priestess flounces in, the elf acknowledges her presence with a restrained courtesy. "Greetings, Kyranda."
Turning to their lord, Aurengil listens impassively as he speaks. "A dwarf may not live on stones, but an elf may live well on leaves and berries. Still, I would not have it said I allowed the White Keep to starve. What is it you plan to have us procure?"
Derth addresses some of the volunteers, Jon, Petra, Karmuk...good, the usual suspects.
Confidently, the lord of White Throne responds to Aurengil,Aurengil, I for one am sick of berries and leaves. But I may live on them, for sure. We need seeds so we can grow crops. For two, find any animals if you can. Any non-feral uninfected pair, or feral if any of you have the skills to coral them, would be ideal to bread.
Also, we need more supplies...In addition to food, be on the lookout for weapons there’s a lot of them out there just laying around. The skeletons have yet to pick up everything and use it as a weapon. In addition to supplies we need to find other living breathing people and most importantly, information.
As you all know, our most recent forays outside of the White Keep indicate that this undead uprising seems to be progressing. At first, before many of you came to the White Keep, only the freshly dead were walking this part of the realms, and only the vilest God who shall not be named knows how far out into the world that uprising extended.
As our time here progressed it seems as though this undead uprising has evolved as well, and lessened not in the least. Older corpses, skeletons have joined the ranks of the undead. It seems as though whatever is causing this undead blight, is growing in power...
One of the occupants, a human child you know as Styrian begins to sob uncontrollably. Derth nods toward the child’s mother, Zandu, (whom you know as the Pilot of the schooner, Black Sunset). Zandu moves and comfortingly escorts the child out of the meeting chamber.
Derth clears his throat and continues,First and foremost, I think we need to see how far out this, this blight extends. Has the country, the entire realms, the world been infected? Why, we need answers, are there any other communities like ours out there?
So I’m calling on you to seek food, supplies, and weapons, while you’re doing that seek some clues. Groll will join any volunteers, and of course Zandu will pilot the ship through Black Dragons Mere.
Groll, who has been rumored to be of half-orcish blood (although not entirely evident as he looks more human than anything other than being just plain ugly and brutish in appearance), stands scowling with arms folded.
Groll speaks, or growls is more like it, Are there any other volunteers?
Petra nods somberly and jots things down in her battered journal with the burnt stick that has taken the place of ink, for her.
1 - Food
....a. Seeds
....b. Animals
........i. Uninfected
........ii. Fekund
2 - Weaponry
3 - Survivors
4 - Information
....a. How far it goes
....b. Why it goes
....c. Increesed varyt *smudge* varit *smudge* verity *smudge* KINDS of dead things
5 - Ink
She snaps the book shut and hops from chair to her feet, giving Derth and Groll a salute and shoving her 'pen' behind one ear (which does nothing for her overall cleanliness, as the charcoal smudges into her hair).
"On it! Who's with me, and d'you have any suggestions for direction of the expedition, sir?"
If Derth leaves that in the hands of the group, Petra will hopefully consult a map of the region, if any such things exist for them, or otherwise try and suss out where a good geographical area to aim for is. She's been on several trips to the surrounding region, so perhaps she knows a good place to start looking.
If she registers Karmuk's unease with Jon, she doesn't show it.
Notes! Impressing.
"Most importantly information" says Karmuk, pointing Petra's notes.
And continues to Derth: "Sir. Who is in charge? And who is second in command? And to whom we are reporting?
Karmuk just wants to make sure that chain of command is clear to everybody.
"On it! Who's with me, and d'you have any suggestions for direction of the expedition, sir?"
Derth smiles kindly, I am pleased to have you and your services on hand you are a good and loyal solider, dwarf. North, South, West, East. I would say choose one and venture out further than you had on your previous expedition.
Petra, you know that there is a village of moderate size called Sunshine Crag, home to a simple folk North of White Throne. Sunshine Crag is a about a day’s journey from the shores of Dragon Mere Lake. Since your time at White Throne, you have yet to venture out that far.
Derth answers Karmuk, Whos in command is up to you, Karmuk. Lets have it out. Who wants to make the decisions for this operation then? How about you Petra, Karamuk?
Groll snorts...
Me? Uh. Only if ordered to. I rather let Petra handle it.
Petra blinks as well, then looks around at the others.
Back home, she'd enjoyed her long, solo patrols through the deepest tunnels-- the freedom to chart her own route, investigate what she thought needed investigation. But it's one thing to make your own orders, in a sense, and another to take responsibility for those around you-- to have their lives resting on your guidance.
She looks from Aurengil to Karmuk, Jon to Kyranda, and even to Deng if he's joined them by this point. If not, she thinks of him-- the half-orc, the one in their number who raises her hackles much as Jon does.
They've proven themselves sturdy comrades so far, but suspicion and unease and paranoia gnaws at those in a siege, and few dwarves can wholly put aside the lifelong attitudes towards those of orcish blood that are hammered in from childhood on.
If she accepts this, she tells herself firmly, she must treat the both of them as no different than any other soldier. Their lives are worth just as much.
(Even if Jon's only kinda half-alive.)
Petra fidgets with her journal, callused fingers drumming against the leather binding.
"If all agree to follow me, I'll do my best to lead, sir."
Aurengil considers carefully before responding. "Strange that a dwarf-maid should be our captain, so few are they said to be," he muses. "But stranger things have led us to this pass. I will follow Petra.I foresee a time when quick decisions will need to be made. In that hour, my heart tells me the election must fall upon her sturdy shoulders."
The disheveled young half-orc wanders into the meeting, drying his hands on a scrap of nearly clean cloth. "Sorry I'm late. Cherreth's fever was climbing, and I had help her break it. She's resting better, now, but she could really use some fresh fruit. Is there any chance we'll be getting better food any time soon?"
Jon looks at Petra carefully
"I'll follow you Petra."
She's methodical, careful, and fair. I'm pretty sure she wont kill me unless it's necessary, and won't hesitate if it is.
"I've got some ideas that might help us, Petra. I'll talk to you later."
"Derth. I've been keeping an eye on the sky. If something manages to infect a bird this whole area could become a deathtrap one night."
Left unsaid is Jon's fear that insects resistance to the plague may fall. If that happens everyone is dead, and nothing can be done.
Derth is right - this hold out won't last for ever if the situation continues to worsen. He's risking the best foragers we've got, but he's right to do so.
Petra offers Deng a strained smile when he comes in.
"There'll be better food if we're lucky on our mission to find it," she says, clutching her journal to her chest. ""Several of us are headed outside the walls to recon and gather. You with us?"
She meets Aurengil's eyes, slightly surprised at the vote of confidence from him-- the elf has never been anything but civil to her, but she has always felt ignorant compared to his vast knowledge of the surface world, and is surprised that he thinks she would make decisions well. She holds her chin a little higher, and gives Jon a small nod at his words as well.
"I think maybe we..." No, if she's supposed to lead the others, Torag help her, she needs to sound like a leader. Petra clears her throat and tries again, looking to Derth.
"By your leave, sir, we'll make for Sunshine Crag. The village was of goodly enough size that defenders may have managed to hold out, if I've read the maps of the region correctly. And even if.. even if no one yet lives, there, there may be important stores of goods."
She looks to see if the others have any dissent with this.
Aurengil has no intentions of undermining Petra's new-found authority by questioning her first decision. His intuitions rarely failed him and they had led him to support her. He would abide by her initiative. Besides, he had no better ideas himself.
Having spoken his willingness to follow, the tall elf held his peace and awaited the moment to set out. He watched Kyranda, Deng and Karmuk to see if they would also consent to Petra's leadership.
Deng seems uncomfortable, glancing about the room. Actually, he's confident that he missed something significant, but he's not quite sure what, yet. He meets Petra's gaze, and shrugs. "I really can't do anything else for Cherreth right now. If you all think me going is for the best, well, I guess I'm going."
"Village of Sunshine Crag? Well, you have to like the hope in the name. When do we leave?" He seems more relaxed, but is twisting that piece of cloth, almost wringing it out, but not putting that much effort into it.
Jon bares his teeth in what is intended as an encouraging smile.
"If we're headed outside our walls, there's strength in numbers," Petra says. "More eyes means a greater chance to see an incomin' bag of bones, and.... well, frankly, I'm selfish enough to want as many souls as can along who know their way around an injury if I go down. You've more'n proven your... your skill as such, with Cherreth and the others."
Petra wonders what her father and mother might say, if they could see her now: tellin' an orky she wants him along. Half-or-not would make no difference to them. They'd look at her like she'd left her head down in a deep hole, alright.
Well, the world outside is different. Gods know she's been learning that every step farther from the clan. If her choice would shame her parents, then... she prays she lives long, and they live long enough, also, that they can tell her such to her face. Then she'll deal with that shame.
Petra hooks a thumb into her belt and takes a deep breath.
"Those who're goin' with, grab your kit and meet at the boat in half a turn of the glass. By your leave, sir?" she says, directing the last words toward Derth.
"I'll come with you Petra, if you don't mind" Jon shrugs "I travel light."
If Derth has no objections, Karmuk goes quickly to fetch his backpack and don his scale mail. He puts his shortbow and arrows to his back and grabs his heavy flail to one hand, and heads to the boat as fast as he can, hoping to meet Petra and Jon there, because he still mistrusts Jon.
|
hmm, looks like a lot of people are going out, I bet you that someone will need to look after them. Hey, Hun Derth, Sweetie, I am going to go with these scrumptious people over here, I am going to head out to with them, but before I can go, I need to make a stop at the little ladies room, if ya'll don't mind..
Winks at Derth I'll see you later tonight
On his way out Karmuk exclaims "Tonight? I wouldn't be sure that we are back so soon.".
Aurengil hefts a small bag of supplies and joins Petra and Jon. "I am ready now," he says simply. Of course he is. The tall elf seems always to have anticipated and prepared for what was to come.
Cherreth's fever was climbing, and I had help her break it. She's resting better, now, but she could really use some fresh fruit. Is there any chance we'll be getting better food any time soon?"
Good, I had feared the worse for, Cherreth.
If something manages to infect a bird this whole area could become a deathtrap one night.
Indeed, we should all keep look out for birds exhibiting odd behavior, good to note Jon.
"By your leave, sir, we'll make for Sunshine Crag. The village was of goodly enough size that defenders may have managed to hold out, if I've read the maps of the region correctly. And even if.. even if no one yet lives, there, there may be important stores of goods."
Sunshine Crag. Yes, that is as good a place as any to look for clues I suppose. A ways off Northward, but a wise choice.
"Those who're goin' with, grab your kit and meet at the boat in half a turn of the glass. By your leave, sir?
Excellent, Mirranda will see to Cherreth, Deng, your work caring for her is done… Derth turns to Groll. Groll, Deng will take your place on this mission, is that okay with you? Groll shrugs his massive shoulders and snorts, Fine by me.
I will inform Zandu that she is to prepare to depart immediately. Everyone, I wish you well on this mission. Be safe, and God speed everyone.Winks at Derth I'll see you later tonight
Hmm, yes, hurry back servant of Calistra. Although I fear it may be some time before I see you all again.
"More the merrier, Jon," Petra said with a cheerfulness she did not entirely feel.
She gave Derth a salute and started to leave the room to grab her own pack and weaponry-- then froze, blinking, when Kyranda grabbed her in passing.
Petra's broad dwarven face turned a slow, brick red. Okay. Leader. Lead-lead-lead. Leaders don't threaten to cut people's hands off, do they? Especially not for following their religious practices?
She vaguely knew that Kyranda's goddess-- wasn't even a human goddess, was it, but an elvy goddess-- was all about-- such things-- but-- well--
Deep breath.
"All respect to your service of your goddess, Lady Kyranda, but I worship Torag, and if anyone but my chosen hearthmate, bonded-and-linked, touches my arse, the Lord of the Forge demands of me that I smash that hand flat on the nearest anvil. That going to be a problem between us?"
She hadn't threatened to cut anything off. Just smash it. See? Leading.
Grab my stuff. Right. Deng leaves the room along with everyone else and gathers up his things.
As the group gathers near the boat, preparing to leave, the one thing that stands out the most about Deng's packing is the bucket tied to his backpack. An empty bucket, dangling down from the strings holding the flap shut.
Most of his gear looks far older and more worn than current events should have caused, but all the leather seems to have been oiled properly, and the visible cloth is patched well enough to maintain functionality.
"So, somebody knows how to drive this thing, right?"
"All respect to your service of your goddess, Lady Kyranda, but I worship Torag, and if anyone but my chosen hearthmate, bonded-and-linked, touches my arse, the Lord of the Forge demands of me that I smash that hand flat on the nearest anvil. That going to be a problem between us?"
Religious disputes? Now? Well, better now than later. How to defuse it?
A vague memory of a smiling woman looking at him and a phrase
"If it helps your devotion, you are welcome to touch my arse, Lady Kryandra."
Jon smiles as he says it, his slightly-too-grey skin peeling back over strong sharp white teeth. His too-pale blue irises blurring with the whites of his eyes only making the deeply contracted pupils stand out even further. There's a strangely hypnotic quality to his eyes, and if you look deeper you can see a hunger deep within. A hunger for companionship? Or something else.
Aurengil's quiet, observant gaze followed Kyranda as she swatted the dwarven warrior on the posterior, and dissolved into silvery laughter at Jon's suggestion. Distant and aloof he might sometimes be, but Aurengil was still an elf, given to sudden merriment and fits of wild, strong emotion.
He appreciated Kyranda's lithe beauty and open sexuality as much as anyone. Well, perhaps as much as anyone but Petra he thought. Many of the daughters of men are comely enough, and she not least among them, though like all her kind her beauty will fade far too fast. Its passing will seem no less brief than the turning of a season, he thought.
On seeing Deng, the elf's laughter died in his throat and his face returned to a carefully neutral expression. Too long had his people warred with Deng's for the elf to be at all comfortable around him. Aurengil felt the heat rise in his blood, ancient anger that controlled only with some effort.
Groll leads the party through the damp and musty smelling halls of the White Keep. Arriving at the castles main gate he speaks as if complaining to himself, Now where’s the ship wench at, late. Figures, Hmph.
A females voice answers from around the corner, I’m here, Groll don’t get your mail panties in a bunch. Zandu comes from around the corner, she is wearing black leather britches, a white tunic and a heavy woolen cloak. An unstrung long bow, and quiver is strapped to her back and a finely worked scimitar is strapped to her belt. She gets in Grolls face, Styrian, is nine and I’m her mother leaving her and going into hell, remember?
Alright babe, sorry, I meant nothing by it, Groll smiles in the parties direction, you can see he’s got several large teeth, one is sharp and pointy, where the other is chipped.
Zandu scolds the brute, Fine, just make sure Styrian is safe while I’m gone, you’re the only muscle around here now.
Groll shrugs then begins working a large iron crank on the floor. The portcullis raises with a groan. Then the brute unbars the heavy wooden double doors and pushes them open.
Sunshine pours into the keep and a gentle soothing breeze blows against your face carrying with it subtle traces of death and decay.
Before you, green grass stretches out for about 90 feet, which then turns into a sandy beach that meets a pier with a sailing ship moored to it. The pier is about 220 feet away.
(ooc: Perception checks okay if you would like)