Suni makes his way to the carts where Pox is checking the supplies. Where is the wine... he groans to the Pox. I need a drink. I tell you, the next town we come to I'm finding the first maid and showing her a wealthy amount of gold... he sighs, checking the boxes as well, only he's looking for wine.
The Year of the Prince 1357 DR -
Never attack someone when you can have someone else do it for you. Always be aware of your environment choose your battles when it is to your advantage. Never let someone know you intend to kill them, until you actually do.
Simple but effective rules to live by.
The contract I have ends at Tilverton, the first major destination. Kelemvor is a mercenaries mercenary. So it's likely we'll part ways there under a new contract. Still, I see part of me in you". With that, he gives a small bow and heads back into the darkness.
Regardless, I've come to unburden my soul. You're less judgmental than a Priest I'd wager and it seems an explanation as to why you are safe is not too much to ask.
Cyric and I met as mercenaries in the lands of Sembia. A year or more ago, I've lost track of tie truth be told, we were hired by a Nobleman to protect his House from rival attacks.
While snooping in the house, Cyric discovered what he believed to be a treasure map buried in a dusty desk in an unused wing for an item called, the Ring of Winter.
He convinced the Noblemen to pay us to recover the Ring for him when I refused to go off with him to attempt to retrieve it. We hand selected some of the men we know from Sembia, mostly guards employed by his rival to ensure that we had enough men and that our employer would be alive to pay us when we returned triumphant.
You can see how triumphant we were tonight. Mere hours ago, after months of searching the Jungles of Chult we discovered the location of the Ring. The thing, for what else is there to call such a creature? that owns or covets it and took not too kindly to our presence.
The rest of the band, men I hand selected, were slain in battle with the being. Cyric and I knew that we had no hope and so fled when there were none left to fight or at least none left in fighting condition.
A hallway we chose not to explore was where we ran and lo and behold did a magical gate appear right under us, depositing us in the woods nearby. The Ring and its fabulous powers were left behind as was the guardian. I and Cyric, do not believe it would leave its prize to follow us here. Nor do we intend to go back ever again".
Kelemvor stands, "So now you know the story. The blood on my hands seems no less dry than it did before". You can see guilt burdening the man's soul as he begins to drift away.
Catching his attention by clearing his throat slightly. He didn't show any expression and kindness was not in his nature, at least outside his family. Most people simply sought an excuse for everything but themselves. Seemed Kelemvor was wiser then that, still he had made a different mistake in his eyes.
"I'll agree that pursuit seems unlikely with what you have told me. But I fear you are mistaken about the supposed blood on your hands. Without being there myself, I can not say with certainty that you are blameless. But from what you have told me, it seems you blame yourself more then you should. You may have picked the men, but you only gave them a choice. They chose to follow and agreed to let you lead them. The only sin you have committed by my reasoning is being less of a leader then you and they believed. You made a mistake, granted a costly one, but life is not fair. We can only make the best choice we can and learn from failure. Remember and do better is my advice, for whatever it may be worth."
He pours a second cup and takes up his own, offering the other to Kelemvor.
"Evermead, fine drink for their memory. A small offering, but such things have meaning no less."
He leaves it at that after taking a draw for the dead.
Seeing that Kyorruel is not masking as a guard, he decides to join Suni for a drink when he sees that he is drinking. He makes little in the way of conversation but keeps his eyes open for any threats.
Ja'far flies around the camp, keeping a watchful eye. He continues his duties as bodyguard and guide staying within eye shot of Vorik. He grows bored of this trip, what is apparently a growing sentiment amongst the guards. Ja'far flies to the largest fire, basking in the warm glow of the flame. He takes out his old blade and begins to sharpen it.
Suni drinks most of the wine, leaving little to share, Although he does make sure to at least share.
He sighs, enjoyed my the flavor of the wine. Sorry, your very quiet, normally I am companions with people who talk all day, from morn to dusk, always about stupid things... he says to Kyorruei.
Dorn's wagon backdoor opens and Rook walks out, looking side to side and snuffing the air. Dorn follows a moment later, fully dressed and looking oddly refreshed for someone traveling on the road for so long. A slice of bread in his mouth and a ledger in his hands. He waves over his nearest personal house guard, giving him instructions on checking the wagon and everyone's readiness. He takes a seat on the wagon steps while still going through the ledger. Any merchant worth his salt did inventory daily at least, making sure nothing walked off. He felt confident in his wagon's security and Rook but none the less he was not in the habit of being complacent.
Mawj continues sharpening and listening. Sharpening and listening. Caravans were rather dull, with staccato bursts of action. A part of his mind stayed aware to the conversations around him, but most of his attention was focused on the simple focus of the blade and the whetstone.
At some point, seeing Mawj do a good deal of sharpening, Pox approaches him. "While you're at it--Mawj, isn't it? I've worn down some of my cutting and whittling tools keeping the wagons maintained. I don't suppose you'd mind working on sharpening them, would you? Given the mood of the caravan masters I'd rather ensure everything is in tiptop condition."
Mawj motions beside him with his dagger. "Not a problem, just put 'em there, chief." He inspects the blade on his dagger. "Preparation is essential, but to be honest I do this to clear my mind more than anything. The quiet helps me think." He takes a closer look and tests the edge with his thumb. "Life shapes us like the whetstone shapes the blade. Adversity is adversity, regardless of its form. We decide whether it dulls or sharpens us, by how we approach the adversity." He smiles and shakes his head. "Well, look at me. Waxing philosophical. Go ahead, bring your tools. I can take care of them."
He looks up at the tiefling. "So are you Pox, or The Pox? Either way, you could use a nickname. No offense."
Pox nods at Mawj's philosophy, and leaves his whittling knife and a couple other carving tools my him. He himself turns to pulling out some non-sharp implements to clean them, and to fix a handle on a hammer.
"'Pox' is my nickname. No one at home ever bothered to call me by my real name." He pauses. "I'm not even sure many people knew it. Everyone always called me 'the Pox of Phlan' or just 'Pox.'" He shrugs. "Never liked my looks, I guess." He smiles with crooked teeth. "I don't mind."
The Year of the Prince 1357 DR -
House Adarbrent's Merchant was nervous about passing by Darkhold but there was no threat from the Zhentarim. Thank the Gods!
Despite the emotions on the first day of Flamerule, no further incidents take place and while not a pleasant trip, it is one free of drama.
Despite a few skirmishes with Orc and Human raiders alike the caravan passes safely through to Tilverton with only the loss of a few guards. Cyric and Kelemvor turned the tide against the human raiders with overwhelming skill in battle. It's clear that they outclass even the best of the warriors hired to guard the caravan.
Tilverton - The Flagon Held High Inn and Tavern
Tilverton is a frontier town though there are ruins that can be spotted in the distance nearby in the hills. Despite its existence as a frontier town it is large and sprawling with a population of nearly 10,000. Like most cities on trade roads, this one is led by a Merchant Brieth Tanalar. There is enough arable land for the city to be self sustaining. The city has a force of guards that much is clear but except for some walls at strategic locations, the place is open and vulnerable to a large scale assault.
Due to its proximity between the power centers of Zhentil Keep, Cormyr, the Dalelands, and Sembia, this place is supposedly a hotbed of covert activity. There is great wealth here to be sure, ranching, mining and trapping work are in abundance.
The caravan arrives at the intended destination of the Flagon Held High Inn on schedule. A few of the Merchants agree to stop in the town for at least a day to buy and sell before moving on to Arabel. They turn to Kyo, Suni, Dorn and Vorik looking expectantly for agreement or disagreement on the matter. One of the lesser Merchants addresses Kyo and Suni directly, "I'd think your exotic wares would go over quite splendidly here!"
Mawj visits a tavern and rubs shoulders with the locals. He doesn't have any information he is looking for in particular, just getting the lay of the land and a breather away from the caravan.
Afterwards, he visits some weapon stalls in the market. He is looking to sell his magic dagger. He also wants to buy a sword from Kara-Tur -- a masterwork katana.
Dorn smiles.
"Come now, the whole point of our caravan is to return home with a tidy profit. You'll get no objections from me about a layover."
It would be odd for a merchant to pass up a chance for profit and a little more comfort. Anyways he had things of his own to gather and some of his wares had been earmarked exactly for certain destinations, Tilverton included. If he sold them somewhere else they may not bring in as much value.
Unless stopped Dorn makes sure the wagon is lock and secured with his personal guards before leaving with Rook. He had deals to make and opportunities to take advantage of.
Upon arriving at the Inn, Vorik turns to the guards and rest of the caravan. "Thank you all for getting us here safely. We had a few rough spots, and while we lost a few on the way, most of us have survived. Take the afternoon off, go and do as you please. However, tonight, we celebrate the success of a completed journey, and the lives of those we lost! Drinks on me!!"
Suni nods to the man addressing him and Smiles Well, I shall do my best selling my exotic spices and remedies, although I don't have much left, after selling most of my stock on the road. he says, bowing. Where might one set up a stall?
When released, Pox wanders the town a bit at first. He hadn't traveled at all until this journey and was intrigued to see a new place--with its new architecture, and its new decay and corruption. He may get his spyglass appraised if he finds a suitable business to assist him.
He also asks questions about the ruins beyond the city--namely, what are they and are they safe to visit?
If he learns they are safe to approach, he'll explore them until evening and rejoin for the celebratory dinner.
Kyorruel nods and feigns a polite smile at the merchant who addressed him.
''I shall be well pleased to sell what wares I have. Always happy to hear the clinking of more coins.'' He laughs a little at his own jest and sets out into the city to learn what he can about it.
Kyorruel seeks information among the peers of his cover identity, the merchants. He jests with them and admires their wares while they speak.
He attempts to be friendly with some of them and inquires as to the best possible price for the magical rapier he found, if he did want to sell it.
After he is done with that Kyorruel will look for a good mark to make use of his best talent, thieving.
Before doing so he finds a quiet corner where no one can see him and takes the form of a human man, with dirty, rugged features and miner's clothing. He tries to find someone in a crowd so he will be harder to spot and does his best to relieve them of their coin purse unnoticed.
Once he is done he retreats to another corner and dismisses his disguise.
Ja'far nods to his employer, leaving his side he decides to gather information about the town, learn of local rumors and other useful information espoused from the loose lips of citizens.
Ja'far also keeps his eyes open for any merchants selling exotic goods from Calimshan, the Shining sSuth or the Golden Water such as clothing, jewelry or perhaps a Hookah.
The Year of the Prince 1357 DR -
Just outside of The Flagon Held High Inn and Tavern, the Innkeep allows the caravan merchants to sell their wares from existing booths behind the Inn or their own wagons. Of course, the house seeks a 5% cut of the wares sold.
Kyo is successful in picking the pocket of a man unawares!
Despite the dubious looks that Edwin is initially given, Edwin's performance entrances the travelers who frequent the Tavern this night.
By the time evening falls, the caravan guardsmen (those not serving a specific House) are all drinking with Vorik. Cyric, Kelemvor, and Adon sit by themselves at a nearby table, what they discuss you cannot overhear.
Mawj is offered a silvered masterwork katana in exchange for his magical dagger.
You remember learning that below Tilverton are sewers large enough to walk through. Somehow they connect to the ruins of an ancient elven and human settlement that surrounded the keep of Tilvara an archwizardess, the ruined fortress outside of the city.
Ja'far sees no wares from the South. It seems that his foreign accent does him no good when trying to warm up to the locals.
Pox's spyglas is appraised at 1,000. The merchant offers to buy it for half the value. He is though warned away from the ruins as the rumors are that monsters dwell there.
---
As dinner winds down, the Gundwynd Merchant shouts down the stairs at the top of his lungs as he is running down, his guards close behind him, "Guards, get that bastard!" He points at the table where Cyric, Kelemvor, and Adon are seated.
The Bard currently playing the lyre stops suddenly and the place gets quite quiet.
---
Dorn had learned a few choice bits of information, as well as recalled his own. But such was his mission they would have to be tucked away for another day or avoided altogether. He had chosen to have his dinner near and exit with a solid wall to his back for good measure and wise habits. Rook's head was in his lap, even if his eyes were wide open, as the night drew on and he relaxed. Then it seems like all hell was breaking loose, Gundwynd the cause. A cruel thought crossed his mind, perhaps fate had rewarded him for his meddling and disregarding of his counsel. He doubted Kelemvor was involved, Cyric was the likely culprit if betrayal was involved as he seemed the type, then again Adon had been playing with the man's daughter. Still matters of that nature were something you tended to keep private or at least wait long enough to catch the man with in arms length. If he was a betting man, he was not, he would pick Cyric as the source. Which meant this would not end well, caution never hurt.
Dorn rises in case he needed to make for the exit or move out of the way of something. Rook takes his place before his master, ears flat and teeth peeking below his lips but no sound escaping to warn anyone. Eyes scanning for threats. He wanted to see how this played out, then act accordingly.
Kyorruel decides to share what he has learned with both Dorn and Vorik, seeing as they both hold positions of power in their guise as a merchant and as leader of their mission.
At dinner time Kyorruel sits with Dorn and asks him if he has learned anything of value and shares with him what he learned while in town.
He will continue to dine with Dorn if he is willing, ordering wine with his meal.
When the merchant orders his guards to grab someone at the outsiders table, Kyorruel does not react immediately but does carefully loosen his rapier from in its sheath and lays his hand on it in case his companions decide to bare arms, as unlikely and unwarranted though he believes that action would be.
''I wonder why the merchant is wanting that man seized?'' He will ask aloud to whomever is at his table.
Probably the one who carries himself as a rogue. Those sort are unable to keep out of trouble for long. He thinks of Cyric as the thoughts flow about his head.
Dorn welcomes the company of the elf for dinner. He listens to his information. Good thing they would be leaving the same day, they didn't need guards of that ability near them. He responds quietly in kind with some of his own information.
"Good to know, better that our departure lines up. We don't need that sort of trouble. As for me, I found out that the local thieves guilds are having a little shadow war. Rivals going at it during the night, best stay indoors as crossfire seems to be common."
When Kyorruel poses his question, Dorn whispers a reply.
"We will find out soon enough. But if I had to guess, family or gold. Tends to always be one or the other in some way with career merchant nobles. Sometimes it's only gold."
Mawj is happy to accept the katana in exchange for the magical dagger.
He feels refreshed from his alone-time away from the caravan. That many strong personalities cooped together is a recipe for conflict. He joins the party at the inn just before sundown. He drinks slowly and nibbles at the bread, still full from all of the mead he drank earlier.
"You know," he began, idly drawing circles on the tabletop with a some spilled mead, "I heard some talk from the locals. Normally I'm not a rumormonger, but there is usually a grain of truth in most gossip -- and this rumor was running rampant through the crowds. They say the Purple Dragons will be marching into town and seizing the city. Chaos is bad for business. We may want to sleep with our shoes on tonight."
When the angry merchant and the guards make their appearance, Mawj rests a hand on the hilt of his sword but does not stand. He overhears Dorn and Kyorruel talking. "As you say, jeweler. It might be gold, but he has the look of a man who just found out something unpleasant involving his daughter."
Pox hesitates on selling the spyglass, but realizes he could buy a good deal of equipment that would both assist him with his normal work and his attempts at magical study.
He discusses with the merchant (and any appropriate compatriots of the merchant) at getting the following:
Traveler's Any-Tool (250 gp, 2 lb)
Masterwork Backpack (50 gp, 4 lbs)
Portable Alchemists' Lab (75 gp, 20 lbs)
Journal (10 gp, 1 lb)
Scrivener's Kit (2 gp, 1 lb)
Ink (8 gp)
Spell Component Pouch (5 gp)
2 potions cure light wounds
2 flasks of acid
Wheelbarrow/small wheeled cart (5 gp )
If all were available, if he sold the spyglass and bought these items, he'd have 32 gp remaining from the sale as cash,
If he can buy these things, he'll also sell his normal backpack for 1 gp.
If these items are NOT available, he will hold onto the spyglass for now.
Pox devours his food as one who grew up in an orphanage would: quickly, as if to prevent anyone from taking it from him before he finished. He sips his ale more slowly, and does put some bread and cheese in his basket where he keeps Longtooth.
He nods at Mawj. "Oh my. I hope we are able to move on before they arrive." He pauses. "I have heard there are monsters in the ruins nearby. Were we stuck, perhaps we could fool some of the soldiers into going there."
He goes silent when the guards storm in, and shrinks a little--but speaks when the others start speculating as to whom the guards are chasing. "I don't know. It depends on how you define 'bastard.' Do they mean 'scoundrel' or 'illegitimate son'? Any of them might suit the description, depending."
Ja'far grew embittered by the northerners. Curst barbarians, no sense of honor or hospitality.
Deciding he'd walk around the town till the evening. Eventually he'd make his way to the The Flagon Held High Inn and Tavern.
Ja'far sat away from the others, finding a suitable table in corner of the inn within view of his companions. He ate his mutton along with a tall pint of ale, feeding bits of it to Tanisha.
As dinner was beginning to wind down, Ja'far took out one of his chakrams and began to throw it in the air and catch it.
When the merchant came roaring down the stair, it took Ja'far by surprise. He failed to catch his chakram and its razor edge logged into the table.
Ja'far stiffened up contorting his body in the chair. "What is the meaning of this?! I thought we agreed not to be volatile anymore. His hand was firmly grasping his hilt of his tulwar, a scowled stretched across his face.
The Year of the Prince 1357 DR -
The Merchant sputters at Ja'far's response, "That damned cleric has had relations with my daughter when I strictly forbade it!"
The Tavern goes even more silent as the man airs his dirty laundry.
Adon replies, "Love. Not relations, I am a son of the Goddess of Love and your daughter has been duly blessed".
The Gundwynd Merchant grits his teeth and responds his eyes bulging he is so enraged, "You can thank her for me when I send you to her!"
Cyric stands up as the Gundwynd guards approach the table. Kelemvor simply remains seated continuing to drink, "You draw weapons or lay hands on the cleric and you'll answer to us". Cyric glances over at Kelemvor and punches him in the arm as he remains seated drinking.
The guards hesitate and await Kelemvor's answer, after a brief pause he gives it, "I'm not getting up on account of none of you are coming over here. We two will carve up you seven like turkeys and you all know it.
We will though, take the cleric with us. We're leaving this caravan and this city tonight. That will solve your problem Merchant. I'm not sure how endowed our Love priest is, but even he can't reach her from outside of the city I'd wager".
A number of customers laugh at the comment.
The Merchant of Gundwynd blusters for a few more moments and then motions for his guards to follow him up the stairs. He pauses on the landing, "If you're still here tomorrow, any of you, I'll hire twice the number I have now and we'll see how you fare in battle then..." He withdraws to his rooms thereafter.
Cyric takes his seat again and the three talk among themselves at the table.
---
Ja'far removes his hand from his hilt and raises it to stroke his short beard and begins to laugh.
"You know Cleric, I'm not sure what your religious scholars teach you. But that's one blessing I've never heard of. Some dowry she'll make."
Ja'far will stand from his corner seat and make his way to the bar, when he walks by his the trio and his companions he simply mutters. "One shouldn't blame the mutt when the owner is at fault."
Vorik sat quietly, calmly throughout all of the blustering and accusations. After all, currently, he was a caravan master, so he needed to look the part.
However, when the merchant makes his threat, and departs, he looks to whom ever is sitting with him. "That went well. I'm unsure if he was including us or not, but I have no intention of leaving during the middle of the night. I have rooms I paid for after all, and I am looking forward to a good night's sleep in a real bed."
Mawj's mouth makes a line as he thinks aloud. "Any other time I would suggest we deal with him. Quietly and quickly. But he has drawn too much attention to us. We may want to consider sleeping with the caravan to avoid complications."
Kyorruel takes a deep gulp of his mead while he ponders the merchant and his threats.
"I think it unwise to waste any time on the man. He is merely angry that his whore of a daughter has cost him the opportunity to sell her off most likely. By morning he will have calmed or he will do something foolish and the three will deal with him. Either way its out of our hands."
Pox raises an eyebrow. "Is one a 'whore' if one is a grown adult engaging only once in the so-called pleasures of the flesh? Particularly if the interaction is blessed by a god?" Pox shrugs. "I admit I never understand such things anyway. It seems a great deal of fuss over nothing."
He stretches. "I do not care where I sleep. I'll stay with the caravan tonight--I should be sure all the wagons are in prime shape for departure regardless of exactly when it may be."
He knew it was one or the other, predictable given the information at hand. Dorn shakes his head at those around him.
"Gundwynd is angry about his sullied family honor and reputation. Not so much that his daughter had a tryst, hardly uncommon in Waterdeep. As well as his daughter being so easily, in his opinion I'd guess, fooled into getting bedded by a employed sunite at that. Another insult to his honor as an employer atop that of a father. It's not our concern and has no effect on us, best ignored in my opinion."
He sits back down and Rook takes his place near him, more alert then before. Not that Dorn was going to let this chance slip away, the merchant had made the mistake of letting his anger get the better of him. He was going to take advantage of that to spread his shame and poor judgement. After all Gundwynd had meddled with him, a toll would be extracted for that. His public display of his failings as a father and employer would be spread to the right ears. His standing would fall, even if just for a time, where Xizurth would profit along with those that supported them. That was what carelessness and poor foresight got you, he endeavored to possess nether.
"If 'family' get so riled over such trivial and common things, I am glad I am an orphan. But you are right, it is none of my concern."
Pox drops another bit of bread into his basket.
Suni- who dissapeared for some reason when the caravan came into town, stumbles I to the bar, drunk, his shirt unbuttoned. He sees the group and wanders over, Oi, ah sorry bout my dissapearancez I had decided to treat myself to a fine pair of ladies and a bottle of wine... he says, slurring his words. [ooc]I'm paying 5 gold under the assumption that's what it would have cost for his endevors.[/oocM
"Or was that a fine pair of bottles and one lady? Or perhaps three bottles?" Pox teases.
Suni looks at the bottle, squinting. Eh... I Donno, Sore wa 3-pon no waindatta kamo shirenai he says, slipping into his native tongue.
Watashi wa dochira ni mo kinishinai
The Year of the Prince 1357 DR -
They who would be Tyrants ignore the conflict that surrounds but does not envelop them. With the exception of a smile from Adon to Ja'far, there is no further interaction while the Gundwynd Merchant is present.
After he and his leave, Kelemvor, Cyric, and Adon pay their tab and approach your table. Kelemvor speaks first, "Well, that's that. We will be heading south for Cormyr tonight. If you've the coin and need for experienced swords, we plan to travel to Arabel".
Cyric nods to Vorik but does not speak.
Adon gives a slight bow, "May the blessings of Sune be upon you all".
Cyric rolls his eyes, "I don't think any at this table favor your particular brand of "blessing" Priest..."
"I doubt anyone couldn't benefit from a blessing of Sune." Mawj nods to Adon. "As for hiring blades, I am not in charge..." he looks toward Vorik.
"Priestess Joy in Phlan's Sunite temple was always kind to those of us in the orphanage." Pox observes quietly. He smiles wryly. "Even though perhaps kindness to the likes of me might be against her religion. Such treatment is not forgotten." He trails off, any further thoughts going unsaid... or moving toward the other matter at hand.
Arabel... what a convenient coincidence... He wondered how the three learned of the group's ultimate destination, and why such a... colorful... group seemed so desperate to tag along with their little caravan. Harpers? he wondered.
"I don't know if we need more guards," Pox says, even though he is well aware they lost several on the way here. "Musicians, perhaps?" He smirks.
"Though indeed it is up to Master Vorik."
Vorik replies to Edwin first "One man does not a band make. Unless you're secretly capable of splitting into three or four more people."
Turning to Kelemvor, "I do not think having a couple more experienced guards would be a bad thing. Besides, strength in numbers and all that."
Ja'far laughs with Adon,"a generous man. Will you be blessing us and with some sort of scepter?" He chuckles to himself, stroking his beard.
He turns his attention back to the Barkeep."Barkeep, another round of drinks for myself and the other fine men."
Suni chuckled. Isn't sure the goddess of beauty? Nine hell's, I'll take a blessing from a beautiful woman any day... he says, sitting down, waving a bar maid over. "Hey, sweets, I'd like a glass of water, and something t' help a hangover..." He hands her a silver, "if it works I'll give you another..."
Kyorruel will nudge whomever sits closest to him and smiles a little maliciously.
''If nothing else we should bring the priest with us. At the very least he will provide us with some momentary fun, provided there are women wherever it is we are going. It would not be a foolish assumption.''
The Year of the Prince 1357 DR - 25th day of Flamerule -
Kelemvor raises his hand in a "stop" motion, "So long as you travel with the rest of this caravan south, we'll not travel with you.
While I've no doubt we could defeat the lot of those guards, I've no stomach for it and there's no gold in it for me. We'll head south, now if you happen to arrive where we are headed and need our help while you are there, that's a different story altogether".
Adon nods to Ja'far, "I'll take one last drink for the road though".
Cyric smirks at Kyo's suggestion, "No doubt the women folk would come along but something tells me he'd keep them all for himself whether at Noon or Midnight..."
The trio shakes hands and gives farewells though Cyric goes only as far to nod coldly at Dorn and they take their leave. Eventually you all head to bed and sleep.
---
The Realm of Dreams
You each find yourselves in the common room of The Flagon Held High Inn and Tavern but yet you intrinsically know you are not in the Inn. The edges of your vision are blurry, indistinct. The room is incomplete in some ways as if your memory of it is incomplete.
The front door opens and in walks Xeno Mirrormane, "Greetings. It seems you have all arrived in Tilverton unscathed and your true goals undetected. We have limited time to interact here in the Dream".
He pauses, "Know that the Purple Dragon Legions will arrive tomorrow. You will not resist them of course as you would be foolish to do so".
He pauses again, "Your goal is to ingratiate yourselves with any one or more of their Commanders the best way you can enabling you to travel to Arabel".
He pauses once more, "Once you have arrived in Arabel, I shall send further instructions to Vorik. I send word to you know for other agents seek to move"...
He pauses, "...upon the King. Do not aid them, hamper them if you discover them and can do so without risk of injury, especially if minions of"...
He pauses, "...the King are at hand. There is power enough to answer but one question, ask it!"
Suni, realizing he's sitting in a room with the others, smiles, not realizing he is showing his true shape, the blond Kitsune crosses his arms. Ah, I have no questions... Let the others ask theirs as I see no issues. he looks at the other members of his party, his long bushy tail flicking to the side and his tall ears perked up. He smiles that ever snarky smile that he has. If anyone didn't recognize the man because of his shape surely that look was plain enough...
Looking around at the others for a moment. He ask the obvious question as he saw it.
"What information can you give us about these other agents?"