--Rydwyrna – Aldelday, 19 Laureoth, 146 R.R.--
Summer wanes, and the market streets in Rydwyrna have been full to overflowing for weeks. Anything a person could want to buy, or steal, is hawked by vendors along Republic Way, or in the tent bazaars that always pop up on the grassy acres inside the wall in districts one, two, ten and twelve. The capital of the Republic of Byrthelm, like the Republic itself, flourishes with prosperity and, for the most part, peace. Though the border villages still deal with occasional skirmishes with the Highlanders and Elves, orc raids are far more prevalent, and troublesome, but that’s nothing new either. The Orders have plenty of soldiers to take care of such things. Just yesterday you watched one of the famed Hippogriff Ranger squadrons take flight off of the tower of the Order of the Wild. Such is the way in Rydwryna, there is a little bit of adventure everywhere, but it isn’t the adventure in the city that has piqued your curiosity of late. While passing through the sea of people near the Midvale Market tents you overheard rumors of a strange happening in the province, animals dying in their sleep, young, in the prime of their lives, and with no wounds or marks to give reason for their deaths. Commoners are exaggerators, though, and you put little stock in such gossip. What you do put stock in is Republic silver, and when you saw the notice placed on one of the senate’s official news posting boards: Able bodied adventurers sought by Senator Akassa. Rich reward offered for service. it required you take notice. The senate posts decrees and notices of tax collection on the boards all the time, but rarely do they call out for adventurers to do their questing, that’s what the Orders are supposed to do. What could cause Akassa, the young, and, by all accounts beautiful, senator from Midvale to seek outside the Orders for capable men and women? The notice said: For more information come to the common room of The Black Pegasus Inn on the evening of the 19th.
And so, here you are, the Black Pegasus is one of the ritzier of Rydwyrna’s inns, with no less than two-thousand square feet of common space. Sitting just outside the wall of Castle Redwood, it caters to a noble clientele, but today it’s full of all manner of thugs and thieves, warriors and wizards. It’s clear the owner had an inkling things would be busy, as he has a full complement of well-dressed, in that classy sultry way, barmaids and barmen moving to and fro taking orders and keeping tankards full. The house special is the honey mead, hmmm, with honey harvested in Blueblossom Haven a pastoral farming community from Midvale. That can’t be a coincidence. Twilight has yet to settle on the city, and it is apparent that just about everyone in the place is eager for more information about this “rich reward for service.” As of yet though, no official spokesperson has made themselves known. Perhaps a drink will help pass the time?
Dotting
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It was a strange thing, being a paladin. It wasn’t exactly easy to find evil to vanquish. There weren’t devils around every corner or ghosts in every house. For the most part there were just people, living their lives. Lying, cheating, stealing...but not doing anything that required a paladin. He hoped that this would be different. He sat there, sipping his mead, and waiting.
Psalm arrived in the area about a week ago staying in the region to get a feel for a new place. He finds himself torn he finds the aesthetic of this grand city remarkable in its artistry, even where it seemed to revere natural wonder however by in large even where nature encroached he seemed to think the residents disproved. Where plants were encouraged they often were limited and constrained. Not unlike the beasts of burden who seemed as numerous as the people. He noticed the ingenuity of the people but he saw their works trying to proclaim dominance over life rather than in symbiosis with it.
Upon entering the city he was treated kindly by those of the Order of the Wild as they had been traveling companions but soon many of them found assignment and Psalm took in the city on his own, those he has made his way out of town on 2 occasions to be further removed from the ever present press of city life.
He had heard rumors of something killing animals and even people seeing that the city's leaders even the Order of the Wild seemed more concerned with strategic matters and found their goals predominately military and political so his curiosity piqued Psalm went to the tavern with the colorful name, "The Black Pegasus."
For those who cared to see those who entered the tavern that night saw Psalm crowned with a shock or yellow gold hair that shifts platinum in the bright lights. When he pulled the hood of his cloak down you could see his face is framed by shaggy sideburns, "chops," tracing along his jawline. Below his lower lip there is another shock of facial hair that extends like a downward horn below his chin. His eyes are a deep hunter green eyes with little white around the edge, like many gnomes. His eyebrows flare out so wide they can be seen peeking out if approached from behind. His frame is light and sinewy. His clothing is a flurry of earth tones predominantly greens and browns. His emerald dyed green leather armor is traced by lighter green vines. His pants are stripped with wide pale green stripes over a deep sage. His boots are clunky showing signs of dwarven cobbling favored of spelunkers and mountaineers. Gear is well made and sturdy but closer view shows nicks of wear and tear. His clothes also show the tell-tale signs of patches and rough stitching.
As Psalm looked about the common room he smiled. He ordered a light meal and the mead they were so famous for. He mad his way to a table a few seats removed from the stage hoping that a singer might grace them.
He looked about the room shamelessly people watching. Taking note of emblems, holy symbols or other badge of interest. He keeps an eye out for other gnomes or elves.
Psalm notices the lady dwarf enter. He tilts his head not quite understanding the unconventional mannerisms of the new comer he smiles warmly and nods continuing to listen to the singer.
His curiosity piqued he leans forward, "A song for gemcutters? Does the song help them work?" He taps the table "Ahhhh in tandem perhaps I have seen woodcutters sing songs when they work in teams. It helps keep them in time." He takes a drink.
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The 19th. Let's see, what day is it today? Quint counts days, doing arithmetic in his head. Living on the streets, the calendar is usually the least of his concerns. The only time it really comes up is around the Academy's admissions, but they had come and gone this year, and again, he had been denied a scholarship. If he wanted in, he would need to find a way either to earn the outrageous tuition or to get the archmage to take notice of him. The posting on the board was the best opportunity he'd seen to do either one.
Wait, that's today! Quint looks around, seeing that it is already getting dark out. Is it too late? It can't be, I have to be on this mission! Quint takes off at a run. Nothing will stop him from making it to the Black Pegasus.
He takes a shortcut, jumping across rooftop. The roof tiles are wet, and he would normally move across them more carefully, but today he has a purpose. This isn't just evading the constables, his opportunity to get into the academy is at stake. With each passing moment, he convinces himself with greater certainty that this is his chance, and he can't let it get away.
As he runs across the rooftops, he can feel the sky darkening by the second. He spots the shingle he's looking for. In the torchlight, he sees the image a dark stallion, rampant, with darker wings outstretched behind it. Almost there.
As he searches the streets for the sign, he fails to spot the loose tile on the butcher's roof. Stupid. he thinks to himself, as his body becomes light from freefall and time seems to slow. He knew that loose tile was there. I should have been watching for it. Hells, I've crossed this roof in the middle of a moonless night before, I should have been counting steps. If I lose my chance to a broken neck, I'll deserve it.
Quint hits the tiles hard, diving into a slide down the side of the roof. He manages to get his feet in front just as the roof disappears from beneath him. He hits the ground and tucks into a roll that leaves dry dirt down his back. Two feet to the left and he would have hit the ever-present puddle in front of the butcher's shop.
There's always blood in that puddle. It's where the water collects when the butcher's lazy son washes the floors. It wouldn't do to show up with his only shirt soaked with mud and cow's blood. The hot, red trickle that he could already feel from where the sharp-edged tile slid across his arm would be bad enough.
Undaunted, Quint continues. Now on solid ground, he sprints even harder, holding his breath, though he knows it will will only make his lungs burn harder. He can hear the raucous crowd inside, and decides that it's a good sign. They wouldn't be so loud if proceedings had begun. The thought that the sheer number of people responding to the notice means more competition for whatever rewards are to be had doesn't even enter his mind.
He stops just outside the door and reaches behind himself to try to beat the dust from his back. Panting for breath, he runs his hands through his naturally wild hair. It's bright red, and greased to keep it under control and out of his eyes.
His hand brushes quickly across his pocket to ensure that he hasn't lost the tin he keeps the grease in, and is comforted to feel its cold, hard edges. His father kept a clean, white grease in that tin, but since he died, Quint has had to settle for what he could find, so its current contents are dark, and a leave dark streaks in his wild mane.
He enters at a brisk walk, hiding his haste as best he can, as if he is arriving precisely when he means to (as any true wizard should!). His large, gnomish eyes squint in the light as he surveys the room, taking stock of the situation. Adventuring alone is suicide. His fate will live or die on finding the right allies. Perhaps there will even be a mage who can write him a letter of introduction when this is all over, or at least teach him a spell or two.
The bard, a human man, plays with elegant grace, and his melodies and words wrap the raucous crowd in a musical blanket of serenity. That Gomdebo understood a deeper meaning to the tune, a meaning long forgotten, only served to make more clear her separation from the world around her. Yet, there are familiar things too, timeless things: a table of men and women laughing, two lovers kissing in a corner booth, and though the mead is not like the dwarven stouts she grew up on, it is similar, and warms the belly and the spirits just the same. Life is the constant similarity. Life goes on, as it ever has, and now she is able to partake of life once again.
Everyone watches as the bard picks up the few coins, mostly copper, thrown on the dais in appreciation for his work, and then heads to the long, shellacked, oak bar, a thirty foot monstrosity of lumber that is all one continuous piece. It is little things like this that separate The Black Pegasus from the inns and taverns that cater to the general populous, but it makes no matter tonight. Everyone here waits for one thing, Senator Akassa and her promise of rich reward. No doubt the senator is embroiled in discourse with colleagues and advocates, even though the legislative session doesn't start for two months, being a senator of the Byrthelm Republic requires work year round. Surely she must arrive soon, though, or let this crowd turn raucous once more, and perhaps worse...
Drun examines himself in the tiny silvered mirror placed above the wash-basin within his cell. The daily ritual of shaving, not only his face but head as well, was once again almost complete. He stared at his reflection and was suddenly taken back to the years after his escape from the orc dens of Thgol’d’rak...his 'home'.
Had it truly been almost 5 years since he had wandered from those rough highland hills into the Republic lands? The whole thing seemed like it was only yesterday..and a bit like a dream. He was too young at the time to understand what had driven him from his home, but the human who had told him of his goddess and had forgiven him and his people their barbaric ways...well it was because of him that Drun left.
It was sheer luck that he was not killed at the first village he stopped at. Tired, hungry and looking like some wild Orc straight out of the villager's nightmares, he more or less collapsed at the first doorway he encountered. He still remembered waking on the tiny cot in the small, but cosy cottage. The owner, a family of gnomes who worked and lived in the village, had found him almost frozen on their door-step and without hesitation took him in. Maybe it was the holy symbol he clutched to his chest...the one he had stolen before he left...but whatever it was, they had saved his life.
The trip to Rydwyrna and his presentation to the church all seemed a blur to him now. The arguments for and against his admission to their holy orders, and the difficulty adjusting to 'civilized' society flashed through Drun's mind as he stood looking at himself in that tiny mirror. It was hard, but always he felt that warm hand on his shoulder...almost guiding him forward. Whether it was a memory of that doomed Paladin from his homeland, or maybe a higher power, Drun neither knew nor cared. It was enough to know he was doing the right thing!
His daily ablutions complete, the half-orc finished dressing in the leather tunic and great cape depicting the symbol of his order. Lastly, he affixed the featureless cuir-bouilli mask to his face. While he did not hide his face from shame, he did feel that the mask helped ease over any misunderstandings others might have seen him for the first time. When all was ready, the half-orc paladin of Saxwyn left his cell in the great temple and made his way into the city.
He tried to go to a different part of the great metropolis every week or so, looking for anything he could do to spread the word of his goddess or help the people of his adopted land. After an hour or so of wandering the roads and streets, he wanders into a random tavern for a quick drink to warm and fortify. He moves to a stool at the far end of the bar and orders mead from the keeper. From here he can study those who, most likely, was studying him.
Boddynuck had seen the notices for an adventurer and decided to apply, although he suspects that so small a person won't be considered sufficiently powerful.
But he wants to help. And he desperately needs the money. He has to find something to do to make some coin or he'll have no choice but to go home.
As he enters the room and looks around he almost squeals in terror at the site of the great, huge Orc towering over the room. He very nearly turns and leaves but, just then, he sees not one, but TWO of his people in the bar.
And one of them is even wearing the insignia of a master of the Wild.
He heads over to the table where Psalm is talking to a dwarf and speaks in Gnome (I arbitrarily decided that Gnomish is Arabic :-) :-))
"marhaba. aismi bwdynwk. hal 'ant 'aydaan huna kmghamr? hal taetaqid 'anaha sawf takhtar alnaas qalilanaan mthlna?"
The raven on Boddys shoulder looks over at the dwarf and Caws, clearly amused at its own wit
"Aiyeh. That bit was fer a certain cut o'jasper, givin the song's holder a memory of the right...'angle'." she holds out her fingers in a straight line and makes a single chopping motion "Takes practice not to crack it, I hearin. Recognize those words I di'nay, but mm...its a dwarven tune." she smiles, changing the subject "Are all these people here for the service, you imagine?"
"Certainly not all of them."
As he surveys the room, Quint looks for anyone who appears to be a mage. He feels the dark grease mix with sweat on his palm, and discreetly wipes it on his pants. The pants are already two shades darker than when he found them, and where the grease streaks across them, they darken a third shade.
He stands on his toes and cranes his neck, trying to see across the crowd. What about the tall man with the white beard and robes? Too obvious? From this vantage, the tall ones are the only ones he can see. Quint decides to get closer and see what he can overhear.
"Yes, Vralk is a very good friend. Perhaps a little too forward and greedy :-). He is my familiar. I've got a couple of other animal friends but they're shy and didn't come with me right now"
Drun smiles behind his mask hearing the little folk talk. He had learned the language from those same gnomes who found him all those years ago. While rather rusty in the tongue, he none the less goes to the little party and introduces himself in their native language.
"ahiat 'asdaqa'a. 'ana duruna, bialaadiyn sakisuian. wayarjaa li 'an 'ashtari lak kla sharab takrimaan lawahid min nawe kunt 'ukhidhat li fi bed alsanawat almadiat waeamilni ealaa qadam almusawati."
Greetings friends. I am Drun, paladin of Saxwyn. It would please me to buy you all a drink in honor of one of your kind you took me in some years ago and treated me as an equal.
He reaches into his belt pouch and takes out enough money to buy the three gnomes a mug of ale each, and one for himself as well.
--Rydwyrna – Aldelday, 19 Laureoth, 146 R.R.—
Friendly conversations happen all throughout The Black Pegasus. New acquaintances are made, friendships are formed, and, for the sake of promised influence and wealth, diverse races work to set aside their prejudices. Which is all fine and good, while patience abounds, but as the night wears on, well past twilight, well past evening, into the dark of night, the innkeeper and his staff are forced to break up more than one brawl, kicking out thugs that will no longer have the chance to garner Senator Akassa’s favor. Patience wears thin, and even those that have found good company to keep, and found that the honey-mead is, indeed, a surpassing good beverage, start to wonder whether the whole affair is some prankster’s sick joke. Then it happens. A gust of warm breeze flies in guttering more than one candle in the Pegasus’ expensive, high-ceiling hung, black-iron wrought chandelier. When the thick oak and iron double doors of the establishment swing open the entourage that enters makes it very clear that the senator from Midvale province has arrived. Swordbrothers, resplendent in gleaming half-plate, with the emblem of the Order of the Sword engraved in gold on their breastplates, march in two by two. Each is armored exactly as the other, closed visored helmets with and gauntleted fists holding tightly to wickedly sharp steel glaives. They are part of the Senate Guard, the elite of the elite. Tales abound about their tenacity and ferocity during the Nine-Years war, and more than one Highlander with a grudge-full memory bridles a bit as they enter. They set up a line, with military precision, in front of the dais where before a bard played music to entertain. Then, the line parts, slightly, and standing on a wooden box, you see her.
The whispers of her beauty are not wrong. Tall, lean, yet curvaceous, with an hourglass figure, ample of flesh in those areas that lusty men most desire, and thin in all those places that women envy. Her cyan dress is of samite and silk, trimmed in cloth of silver, cut low to show her bosom, on which rests the bottom length of the raven-black ringlets of her hair. Along her right leg the dress is slit, from ankle to just below the hip, both to allow movement, and certainly to entice the eye with her slender, shapely, clean-shaven legs. Shoes of sueded leather, blue, with lacing straps of intertwining blue and silver fabric that go just below the knee, grace her feet and lower legs, exposing azure painted toenails, a color that matches her eyes almost perfectly. For jewelry she wears only one silver bangle on each wrist, and a gossamer silver tiara tucked deep into the curls of her dark-black hair. The room, silent already for the entrance of her warrior entourage, goes even more silent, if such a thing were possible. And so she speaks, moving her plump and pouty lips with the practiced ease of a woman who must keep the attention of the Republic Senate with her every word.
”I am heartened by the outpouring of support you have all shown by your presence here tonight. That you care so much about the Republic, and the province of Midvale, does my heart good to see.” She pauses for a moment, stepping down from her box, between her flanking guardsman, dragging a hand along the lion-sculpted maw of his pauldron as she steps to the fore. ”I am sure you all have many questions, and I wish I had time to sit and answer them all, but there is little time, and every moment that passes has the potential for more calamity.” Once again she pauses, but only to gather breath, obviously in preparation for a length of speech. ”I received a bluejay, bearing message from one of our Rangers at the outpost at Briarhill, yesterday. It was to give new information about a travesty that has befallen the town across the river, Blueblossom Haven, the pride of Midvale. Perhaps some of you have heard of the strange happenings there of late? Dying animals, found among the herds in the morning. No mark, no blood lost, just dead. For the herders there, such a thing is not unheard of, and cattle that die before their time can still be slaughtered and sold, but when one becomes two, and two becomes five, with no answers as to a cause, the people begin to whisper of dark magic, of unknown disease, and then, then the dead lie dead, untouched for fear of contagion of whatever force has claimed them.” Another pause, and this time, you see the beautiful raven-haired senator chewing on some emotional content. ”Our esteemed Seneschal, has told me that with the wildfires raging on the western edge of the Mourning Forest, and the increase in orc raids to the north, there are no Order soldiers to spare, to see to [i]my mystery.[i]” It is impossible not to feel the venom dripping in her words. ”Therefore I turn to the Republic, the foundation on which we have built this realm, good free folk, working to help each other. I turn to you.” She looks through the crowd for longer than a moment, and when her sea-blue eyes meet your own you feel a jolt of electricity surge through your body. You. Yes, you! The electricity coursing through you says. You must help me.
She picks up speech again. ”The bird I received from the Briarhill Ranger rent my heart in twain. For the bird’s message was that whatever is killing in Blueblossom Haven, is no longer targeting just herd animals. Two children…” She sputters for a moment, and you see her eyes well up, glistening with tears. But, she is quick to recover. ”My sister’s twin daughters were found dead in the morning, in the same manner as they have found the cattle.” She strolls back to the dais, back to the wooden box that will put her up so that she stands above everyone. ”And so I ask, so I beg of you, the free folk of Byrthelm, will you help my people? Will you help Midvale, and Blueblossom Haven to discover what evil lurks among them, and put an end to this senseless death?!” Immediately upon asking her question the crowd explodes in an uproar of affirmation. Huzzah! You hear among the crowd. Yes! To arms! In one place. For Midvale in another. For Byrthelm in still another. It is clear the crowd is empowered by her words. But the question remains. Are you? Does the plea of the enchanting Senator Akassa stir your blood to aid the common people? And if it does, to what end? She has mentioned no reward thus far, and now the crowd has descended into raucous conversation again. Some groups have already walked out bowing before the Senator as they go, already on their way to help. Dare you speak to a woman of Akassa’s stature and inquire further?
As Gomdebo approaches the dais, the two Swordbrothers flanking the senator drop their glaives in her way. "That's far enough." The one on the right growls. "You want to talk to the senator? You can do it from right there." The other offers up. Senator Akassa steps down from her box toward you, but, you notice, she does not make the guardsmen put up their weapons. She simply stands on the other side of the wall of wood and steel and looks at you with interested and innocent eyes. "Yes, my friend." She says, "you have questions?"
When the big, strong, mean looking Orc approaches him Boddy's forst reaction is to back off behind the dwarf. After all, everybody knows that Dwarves don't like Orcs.
On noticing the holy symbol, realizing that the Paladin actually speaks gnome, and hearing his words he relaxes a little.
A little.
"Uh, thank you." he squeaks in a high pitched voice. Anybody with sense motive would realize that he is mostly taking the drink so as to not offend the big, mean, nasty looking Orc. He is still scared nearly spitless.
Later, reacting to the senator
"How incredibly scandalous her clothing is. Humans. They're SO silly sometimes. Why would anybody expose ugly hairless flesh like that? No good manners at all"
As her speech ends, he'd call out
"The children! We must save the children!"
Boddy would also head up towards the senator, wanting to ask some questions.
"Madam, I definitely want to help in any way that I can. Although I am very inexperienced I HAVE just graduated from the Arcane Order and maybe what I learned there could be of use. I'd do it just to help if I could but I don't even have enough money to buy sufficient provisions to get there. Would you possibly be able to cover my expenses so I can get there?"
Hearing disappointingly little of interest in the robed man's conversation, and hoping for any advantage he might be able to find that might allow him to distinguish himself, Quint slips through the crowd to get closer to the stage, and discreetly listens to the Dwarf's conversation with the senator. This is when he first sees that there are other gnomes present. Did that one say he was a graduate of the Arcane Order?
After the speech by the Senator, Drun watcher the others and how they react. Seeing the paladin of Amren, he smiles, and straightening his mask, moves over to the woman...careful of those smaller than himself as he goes.
Once there, he too kneels, and with his cloak flowing over him, he flings it back to reveal the holy symbol of Saxwyn embroidered in golden thread upon his tabard.
"I too offer my sword to this quest, in the name of Saxwyn, the Warrior"
Drun smiles behind his mask hearing the little folk talk. He had learned the language from those same gnomes who found him all those years ago. While rather rusty in the tongue, he none the less goes to the little party and introduces himself in their native language.
"ahiat 'asdaqa'a. 'ana duruna, bialaadiyn sakisuian. wayarjaa li 'an 'ashtari lak kla sharab takrimaan lawahid min nawe kunt 'ukhidhat li fi bed alsanawat almadiat waeamilni ealaa qadam almusawati."
** spoiler omitted **
He reaches into his belt pouch and takes out enough money to buy the three gnomes a mug of ale each, and one for himself as well.
Psalm smiles puzzled by the half-orc. He answers in common. "You are kind but put away your formal tone, we'd welcome you." He smiles you have promised good drink and dangled a curious tale I for one would love to hear." Psalm invites the orc to join them.
Psalm seems impressed at first. But the pomp of the display wears on him. A projection of republic power to protect a woman the larger government has turned down for additional aid. I have not the stomach for human politics. As the senator continues into her story he can't help but be moved. He hears the calls for action. He stands in his chair near the stage. "Forgiveness I ask if I breech your elaborate protocols. Rangers of the Order of the Wild have come to the aid of my people in the past. These others have invoked Amren and Saxwyn. I serve the Lady Lion and answer your call I will."
Seeing the outpouring of support, from two paladins of the realm no less, Akassa smiles a genuine, joyful smile. She looks down at the group in front of her and says, "Worshipers of Amren, Saxwyn, and Aldellion will surely bring the blessings of the gods upon our people. I pray my nieces, Lillith and Bethyn are the last people that die to this..." She pauses a moment, searching for the right word, "pestilence. I thank you good lady dwarf, as I thank you all, for your willingness to put life and limb on the line for those you do not even know. These are the foundations that make our Republic strong." She then looks to Boddynuck, the strange gnome, whose pockets are all but empty. "I am glad that you asked sir gnome, graduate of the Arcane Order, and yet with no coins for your grueling service during your tutelage..." She seems to ponder that a moment. "My chief of staff, Marketh, is authorized to give a five gold coin deposit to any that are willing to travel to Blueblossom in aid, and," she pauses for a moment here, looking at all those present, but taking special care to look at the gnome skulking in the shadows, to make sure he is aware that she is aware of his presence, "to sign a contract expressing the same. He will be working with our clerk in the receiving room of Castle Redwood tomorrow morning. You can find him then and make the arrangements to receive that earnest deposit. The mayor of Blueblossom Haven, Camatil, has also assured me that should anyone rid them of this darkness, he would be most generous in his gratitude. Likewise, for those that prove victorious over this mystery, my gratitude would also overflow." She looks at the mismatched group in front of her, and smiles again. Surely the realm that brought such a group together, will overcome all challenges. I have no doubt."
"Thank you. I promise to do my best to make sure that Lillith and Bethyn are the last to die. And to avenge them"
Looking again at the dwarf, Akassa frowns a bit and says, "Insofar as I know, yes. The Ranger's messenger bird, by necessity of course, was brief and blunt. I agree, though, after talking to mayor Camatil to make him aware of your presence, my sister's, her name is Laureon, and her husband's Sehtoru, farm would be a good place to start. Assuming, by the gods I hope, that no other people have died from this curse by the time you arrive."
"We have to go sign the contract tomorrow. Or, at least, I do. So lets be there early in the morning and then leave as quickly as we can afterwards"
"I will accompany you, brother, as that is where I am staying",the big orc says, trailing out behind the half-elf.
"Tomorrow morning I will see you all then. Good night. The Lady Lion watch you as you sleep."
She figured the Shades would want to make contact after the Senator's announcement,
Knowing that he would be up and busy early Psalm changed his custom while in this city and found a reasonably priced Inn to sleep at not wanting to shirk any cleaning duties he would be expected if he returned to the main floor of the Order of Faith.
Psalm walked with the others as far as he found a reasonably priced and respectable inn and made his way in figuring on the common room.
I'm guessing more likely though, it being still summer, Psalm would have just found himself a spot in one of the more "park"ish areas
That is definitely where Boddy has been staying for the last couple of nights. And where he is planning on spending this night too :-)
Coalescing out of the darkness so suddenly that Gomdebo starts and grabs for her dagger, a halfling Shade, head to do in black leather, including a mask, puts a hand on her shoulder. He stays in the shadows behind her. "You really need to get better at that." Her old friend Annanar says. "If you were an enemy of the Shadow, you'd already be dead."