"Forgive me, but I must say," Florian says sheepishly, looking to Silarsha, "I expected the daughter of an Ulfen war chief, someone with that name, to look more... well, Ulfen."
"My shtick? I like to think my winning personality and zest for life are what I bring to the table." Florian chuckles, then mutters a few words and points a finger up. Four lights the size of lanterns shoot from his finger, hovering a few feet above the group. They dance about for a few moments before Florian lowers his finger. The lights descend and coalesce beside him, forming a softly glowing, vaguely humanoid shape. He then waves his hand, and the figure disappears entirely.
"I also have my magic. It's almost certainly quite... different in focus and nature than Brice's, though." He pats the pouch on his hip with one hand. "How much you want to know right this moment is up to you."
Brice's smile is genuine at the halfling's reaction to the trick. <Reminds me of our little sister, eh?> The thought sent to his blade is bittersweet with some amount of worry of what might be in store for her now that he was gone, but he surpresses the emotion.
"Ah, that must have been it. My sincere condolences... I understand the pain of losing a loved one to the Mitrian sense of 'justice' and 'fair play.'" The ex-noble pats the hilt of his sword reverentially as he says this, and whistles a low tune at Florian's trick. "Dancing lights... never saw the use for that one, but I must say you cast it well." Turning to both him and Charmaine, he pulls out a book from the back of his cloak. Flipping through several pages, he shows them both the page describing the theory and method for casting that very spell.
"I am... a bit of an oddity, magically speaking. I have the latent ability to cast on account of my mother's heritage... but I do not just 'know' spells. I have to spend time studying what I want to be able to put my energy toward the next day before going to sleep. So if I want to be able to make similar orbs as Master Florian just did," he nods to the former merchant as he says this, and for once there is not an ounce of sarcasm in his voice speaking the man's name, " I would have to spend a bit of time reading about it the night before... committing the necessary innate energy needed toward the ability to cast it the next day."
Turning a few pages, he shows an entry called "Prestidigitation". "Now this one I did prepare. It can be a bit childish, but the results can be hilarious. Watch." Pointing toward the ground, he focuses and the bits of dust and dirt coalesce into a miniature, if shoddy looking, version of Sir Reginald. He then colors it appropriately, makes it shiny, and picks it up. "Now do not get too hopeful... at most this will last an hour before reverting back to dust, and that is if you are careful with it. Tried to make a functioning key with this spell once and it broke into dirt as I tried to unlock a ... well, never mind." Brice's hand goes to the hilt of his blade once more at the memory of what he had been trying to unlock.
"At any rate, I imagine that our good Cardinal will want us to get on with this Knotwork or what have you."
"Look more Ulfen?" Huh? she says with a puzzled expression before realization dawns on her.
"Oh. That's right, you've never seen me before. I forgot I was using it."
She concentrates for a moment, and the illusion presented by the hat of disguise fades leaving her true form visible.
"We were granted some gifts to help us achieve our goals. It's hard to move about when you're among the most wanted women in all the land."
So that's what that is. Very useful indeed.
Florian nods as he looks over the woman's new, true appearance. "I see. Such a shame to have to hide such a striking appearance, but it is the smart thing to do." He points at the F shaped scar. "Particularly if you have something like that on you."
He looks over at Brice, puzzling over the comment about the usefulness of lights. "Well, they're useful when it's dark. I can't actually see that well in the dark, believe it or not." He gives an amused smile and a shrug. "We're actually similar in that I also don't just know spells either. Of course, I also have no innate or latent ability either. And mine doesn't come from books or extensive study." Florian hesitates, as if considering how much he wants to say without being prompted. "So similar in some ways, different in others," he finally says.
The cardinal stands and smiles, "I am glad you have accommodated to each other so well. I believe this will be good. Now, let's make it official. Where is your copy of the pact? Ah perfect." He adds it to the tray and brings it to Brice and Florian, "Now if you will sign. Blood is traditional," he says. There is a small silver ritual knife on the tray, and a quill ready and waiting.
Looking down at the knife, Brice smiles. "No need for that." Pulling off a glove, he bites down on his right index finger.
A moderate amount of blood flows from the wound, but nothing that a few days of rest will not repair. Satisfied, he concentrates and the quill levitates off the tray, dips itself into the bloody bite, then proceeds to sign itself on a free space of both copies of the pact.
As he finishes and magically returns the quill, he looks down and examines his signature.
"Brice Avernum LeVaughn I"
Satisfied, he stands back to let Florian add his signature.
Florian steps forward and takes the knife from the tray. He considers it for a moment, then grabs the blade with his left hand and quickly yanks it up, opening a wound in the palm of his hand. Blood begins to well up and out of the cut. His eyes close and he allows the sensation of pain to wash over him for a brief moment. Then his eyes open again and he tosses the knife back on the tray before taking the quill. Dipping the tip of the quill directly in the wound on his palm, he carefully writes his name on both copies of the infernal contract.
"Florian Paran"
He places the quill down. "And with that, I swear myself to service and secrecy." Florian gingerly presses his right index finger to the wound on his left. The young man then raises his right hand to his throat, placing his thumb and middle finger on either side of it, as if choking himself. Then he brings the same hand to his mouth and licks the first two fingers. He tastes blood. "By the Blood and the Mouth." He chuckles lightly and smiles at the Cardinal. "An extra little indulgence of mine, Cardinal Thorn."
FFS, is he part shark? And that guy just drank his own blood! Did we just take on two cannibals? At least Grumbs has standards. Damn. No way in hell am I going to be alone with them. Some ink and blood on parchment isn't going to get me an arm back!
Charmaine stands there watching, snuggling Sir Reginald the Great extra hard for a few moments.
Brice raises his eyebrow at Florian's display, but it does not particularly mean anything significant to him, so he lets it go by without being commented upon. Turning, he looks to see if Charmaine has broken the dust bunny version of her bear yet.
Wow, for someone part of a group of revolutionaries trying to burn the government and its god to the ground, she sure spooks easily.
Smiling at the halfling, Brice points to his teeth. "You have no need to be worried about these. They are a... side effect... of my rebellion. My mother had a less than human bloodline, and it appears that my decisions of late have upset more than just my... mortal... relatives. You could say that this," he points to the wound on his still gloveless finger, "is my way of telling them that I will take their displeasure and turn it into a dagger to run through their hearts should they ever decide to darken my doorsteps."
Heverly nods slightly as she is introduced, but says nothing as the others get acquainted and sign. She watches them sign, then sighs, almost a growl, and lets the illusion of her disguise fall. A tall willowy woman, with blonde hair and catlike eyes stands there in a fine gown with several bits of jewelry. "It still cannot be easy for me. But this my true appearance. However, for the most part, when we work, I will be in disguise, and you can refer to me as Genevieve. As for my skills, I too do magic, though mine comes from the gods and goddesses of fire," she says as she snaps her fingers creating a flash of sparks. "Asmodeus prime among them."
Brice had, until now, disregarded the third woman in their midst as a mute or perhaps someone who didn't speak Taldan. Seeing the false appearance melt away suddenly, however, catches his attention. By the stars... she is beautiful!
"A pity that you must disguise such radiance under such a plain form, 'Genevieve', but I can see why you must. Do not expect me to be happy about it though." He smiles at the display of sparks.
<Looks like you might have a friend... if you could be heard by anyone but me that is.> The mental thought to the blade is quickly followed by, <Not to worry though, I will not get 'distracted'. I somehow think she might try to burn me if I got too close, after all.>
"So called divine magic has always been an oddity to me. Often times the magic itself is measurable, even recreatable through the arcane... but the idea of having to beg some higher power for my daily allotment of power just never sat right with me. No offense meant, of course, to present company."
Florian gives Charmaine a quizzical look. He hadn't been paying a great deal of attention, but Brice's comments suggest that she apparently found something disturbing. Just his teeth? Perhaps also something I did. The oath, maybe, or the blood.
Odd. Still, if that bothers her so much, Florian thinks with amusement, then it'll be interesting see how she handles what comes next.
His attention shifts to the previously mute woman when her form and appearance suddenly shift and she begins speaking. He listens, head tilted, and his eyes widen ever so slightly as she produces sparks from her fingers.
"Just this once, well met, Heverly," Florian says, nodding to her. "And, well, Genevieve."
"To be fair," he chimes in, looking over at Brice, "not everyone's contact with the divine is quite as negative as yours seems to have been. Besides, the way she talked about it, she doesn't sound all that much like a priestess." He claps his hands together, smiling at the others. "Still, this seems like quite an interesting assortment of people. Here's hoping we accomplish great things." He raises an empty hand, as if toasting with a cup visible only to him, then grins sheepishly. "Shame there's nothing to toast with."
While oblivious to the flash of terror from Charmaine, Silarsha does happen to notice Brice's reaction to Genevieve's true form.
Ha! He looks like a fish with a hook in it's mouth. I wonder if she'll try to land him? Or just club him enough to get the hook out, and toss him back in the water. Hard to say, we haven't ever even talked about things like that.
At Florian's "toast" she says; "Interesting is the word for us I'd say. And I'm certain we will do well at our mission. Oh, and As for the toast, there's plenty of fine things to drink here; we just have to put the thralls to use to find it. I'm up to go looking if you are?"
"Excellent," says the young man with a satisfied smile. "Shall we simply have something brought up by one of the slaves? Or should we go explore the reserve ourselves and choose something appropriate? I'm partial to exploration, myself." He pauses and half turns his body, looking at the Cardinal. "Assuming, of course, the Cardinal would allow that, and that he doesn't have some more pressing task for us."
Brice shakes his head. "No, I do not particularly care for a self guided tour of the estate. What is the point of having those under you if you do not allow them to do their jobs, after all."
"Either way is fine with me. Shall we leave the Cardinal to his work, and move to the room on the first floor with the comfortable chairs then? We should find a thrall along the way to bring drinks."
The cardinal smiles, "I am pleased you are already beginning to get along. Tomorrow we begin training. Today, rest from your travels and your ordeals." The cardinal rolls up the Pact of Thorns and hands it to Florian. He then motions to the door dismissing you now and turns back to his work.
Florian nods to Thorn as he takes the pact. "Perhaps I'll explore some other time," he says with a sigh as he strides past the others. He stops at the door and looks back. "Well, please, lead on to the room with the comfortable chairs." The young man looks over at Charmaine and Genevieve. "Will either of you be joining us?"
"Sure!" Charmaine says cheerily. "I have two friends to bring though," she says without further explanation and bounds off to her room. She is gone about thirty minutes before arriving to the room with comfy chairs.
Being lead by his finger is Grumblejack, who looks like his hair has been combed and is wearing a nice suit, and Mr. Snuffles on a makeshift leash. "We're back! This is Grumbs and Mr.Snuffles," she explains with a huge smile before looking expectantly at Grumblejack. When nothing happens she pokes him firmly in the calf. Apparently jogging his memory, Grumblejack extends a massive right hand to Florian and the left to Brice (who receive a brutal scowl if they don't accept). "We're still working on it, but doesn't he clean up nicely?" she asks proudly.
________
Brice gives the Cardinal a formal bow as he leaves to follow his new companions to whatever room they withdraw to for refreshments. Flagging down a slave, he says, "A glass of wine for me. Preferably something fortified, recent vintages have been a bit light on alcohol content. Also bring a tray of hors-d'oeuvres for me and my companions. And whatever they want to drink as well."
Sitting in whatever comfortable chair he can find, he looks bemused as Charmaine runs off excitedly. His smile fades a tad as the halfling brings her... pets... back. A personal servant? Seeing the proferred left hand, he looks down at it, then up at the suited... man?
"I beg your pardon but I do not shake hands." Seeing the scowl, he returns it with one of his own. "No need to feel so put out by it. Besides, customarily one would shake one person's hand and then the next person's, not both at the same time." Turning to Charmaine, he gives her a half smile. "A work in progress I assume. Adequate for now but I would not recommend bringing him to any balls or formal dinners just yet." The ex-noble laughs at the implied joke of any of them being invited to such an event any time soon.
The next morning Florian and Brice find one of the slaves have brought in an iron circlet, matching the others' and a small bag of gold with a small note pinned to it. A small signing bonus. The circlet will aid you in hiding among our enemies, and the gold will aid you in your journey. There are 400 gp inside.
Eventually you are all called to the courtyard, where Cardinal Thorn begins to train you. You find it is a long greuling process. He often uses treining dummies, or slaves for sparring, but occasionally, a captured enemy or summoned creature is there and set free to help hone and test your improving skills. Tiadora is around, though she attempts to avoid most of you. When she does help with the training, she is cruel and pleasures in causing pain and failure.
Cardinal Thorn shows himself as an excellent teacher and master of many subjects. There is seldom a wasted moment in his lessons, and his drills are constantly pushing you to rely on one another. In addition to the team trainings, he frequently pulls one or two of the Knot to the side, instructing them personally in their own power.
"Keep your opponent off balance to destroy them." Whenever you strike a foe with a weapon, the DC of the next spell you cast against that person increases by 1 and you gain a +1 trait bonus to overcome their spell resistance. This spell must be cast before the end of your next turn.
“Be quiet as death, and rule all.” You gain a +2 trait bonus to Stealth checks.
“Strike first, strike ruthlessly and thus be victorious.” You gain a +2 trait bonus on Initiative checks.
"With the silver tongue of devils, you can do anything." You gain a +2 trait bonus to Diplomacy checks.
“Deception is a tool. Master it.” You gain a +1 trait bonus to Bluff checks to lie and Sense Motive checks to tell when someone is lying to you. One of these (your choice) is a class skill for you.
Things are not all training though. The Cardinal seems to disappear occasionally, with free time given with instructions to improve and prepare yourselves. There are also some days given to be totally free, to rest up and absorb what has been taught.
Before long, it seems three months have passed.
Leading the way to the first floor parlor, Silarsha chimes in with "Mead please, if you have it available, wine is fine if not . . ." when Brice waylays the Thrall.
I wonder where Charmaine's going?
Arriving in the room with the comfortable chairs, Silarsha places her swords down next to a well padded highback chair before she settles in. Once seated, she stretches her legs straight out in front of her, and crosses them at the ankle.
"I could get used to this. Much nicer than a wooden benches you find on a ship."
When Grumblejack and the dog are brought in, she barely contains a chuckle at the Ogre in a suit.
Ha! She's crazy.
"Hello Grumbs. How is your puppy doing?"
After the introductions, she looks at the two newcomers and asks; "So what did you two fine gentlemen do to end up running for your lives with the law at your back?"
"I'll have wine as well," Florian tells the thrall. He looks up, thinking, then adds, "Whiskey, too. Just bring out the bottles, I'll figure out how much I want."
He watches Charmaine run off with a curious look. I wonder if that childlike behavior is all an act, or if she's really just like that.
Upon arriving to the room, he finds a suitable chair and sinks into it, sighing with contentment. When the halfling returns with her companions, Florian cannot suppress the surprised expression on his face.
Is that an ogre in a f+@%ing suit?
Florian stands up, smiling as warmly as he can. Though his expression is friendly, his eyes are intense and searching as he looks the ogre up and down. "Ah, erm, pleasure to meet you," he says at last, shaking the creature's large hand. "Forgive me if I seem startled. I'm afraid I've never met someone quite like you before."
Back in his seat, he looks back at Silarsha when she asks her question. "A number of things, I suppose," the young man responds with a shrug. "My... associates and I ended up surrounded and attacked in a cemetery, though, and that's where I fled from. So I'm probably wanted primarily for grave robbery and desecration. It's really quite amazing how upset Mitrans get about that kind of thing."
Brice listens with interest as Florian explains how he ended up at the Cardinal's door. There is likely more to that story... perhaps we can get it out of him in time... and in trust.
Leaning back into the cushions of his chair, the young aasimar takes the glass of port when it arrives and takes a small, refined sip of it.
"How did I get here, eh? Well, if we are only sticking to the events immediately preceding our departure," he gives Florian a smirk, "I escaped the manor I used to call home moments before my father and his guards could arrest me for sedition. It seems my last group of associates could not be bothered to follow such simple instructions as 'make sure all sabotage looks like an accident' and 'whatever you do, do not let what you are doing look like some form of '"political statement."' As such, they were caught and the survivors turned on me quicker than the Mitrian inquisitors could say 'Hello."" Brice's face turns up in a grimace. "Good help is so hard to find these days. Still, I take solace in knowing that the fools probably are on their way to Branderscar to die by now... and that I am not amongst their number."
Taking a deeper drink from his glass this time, he nods to Silarsha and the others. "But enough about boring old me... tell me, how did you get here? I noticed the 'F' of the forsaken on you when the illusion was dropped... about the only people I have seen with that are those working the salt mines back home. I had not heard of any escapes from them, but then they have been a bit lax about checking the corpses of the dead in the recent past."
"Hmph. Baby steps, even for someone with big feet!" Charmaine retorts at Brice. She quickly cheers up though as Florian gives Grumblejack some practice. Beaming a little, she tugs at the Ogre's finger and he leans over to her. "You did great! You can go now, have fun with Mr. Snuffles! I'll have food sent to the room," she whispers.
After pulling a servant off to the side, who quickly runs off, she joins the conversation. "We earned these little beauties," she begins as she rolls up her sleeve to reveal her own brand, "during our time in Branderscar. Thanks to some precisely placed aid, we were able to escape," she says proudly, expecting the others to fill in the more exciting details.
Nodding at Florian, "They seem to get upset about a lot of things here. But what were you digging up bodies for? Are you one of those..." she seems to be trying to think of a word. "Corpse lovers?"
She then raises her cup of mead to her lips, the corners of a wide smile peeking around the edges of the cup and a twinkle of teasing in her eyes.
Listening to Brice's story, she shakes her head at the botched conspiracy. "Thus the Third Loyalty we are bound by. We should not be working in a manner that will be a detriment to each other. I think you'll find us a better group to work with than some ragtag bunch of fools"
After Brice's question, she pauses a moment to gather her thoughts; "Like Charmaine said, we were sent to your Branderscar prison to be executed. But we escaped before they could carry out the sentence. I can't speak for the others, but I was there because of the rulers of this land have no respect for the proper order of things."
Silarsha then recounts the tale of the successful raids along the coast with her father's ship. She tells of the ship being damaged by a storm and making repairs before sailing home. Her voice crackling with anger; she talks of how they were ambushed in the night by Talingarde's navy, and of the slaughter of her father and the crew. She ends on her rescue from the water, subsequent imprisonment, trial for "piracy", (That word spoken with clear disdain) and transfer to Branderscar Prison.
While she's telling the story, it's clearly apparent she sees nothing wrong with the raids or her people's conduct. That to her, attacking a village, brutally overcoming any resistance, then taking valuables or even people is perfectly normal and reasonable course of action, but to be attacked by surprise by the navy was somehow wrong.
"And now we are here. Working with the Cardinal to obtain justice for my Father, and our people."
She takes a long pull of her cup, and then walks over to the bottle for a refill.
While Charmaine is often cheery and jovial, she turns to her training with a sharp seriousness. I will never be brought under a Mitran thumb again. Having never had formal training like Cardinal Thorn offers, she finds that the structure and encouragement of a teacher work wonders for her abilities. Eagerly waking for training days, she does everything she can to learn what the Cardinal has to teach her. Afterwards, she spends her evenings practicing hide and seek with Grumblejack and Mr. Snuffles. Sometimes, she even outwits the pooch!
Unfortunately, Tiadora uses methods a little too similar to what she experienced as a servant. After the first session with her, Charmaine grows increasingly furious with her, to the point that Tiadora is always met with a cold, poker-face. However, perhaps by design, the woman always gets the most precise and desired level of compliance from the Halfling...
Three months of training later, Charmaine finds herself feeling more confident than ever and ready to take... something to those who would harm her and those she has grown to see as her family. Be quiet as death, and rule all.
________
Silarsha also dedicates herself to the training.
Whether dealing with dummies, summoned creatures, or living beings; she shows no compunctions about cutting them down.
Silarsha is an eager student of the Cardinal, listening attentively, asking questions and trying to learn as much as she can.
When dealing with Tiadora, she seems to exert extra effort, and when she does fail; she suffers the pain and humiliation without comment. Instead she gives the woman an occasional jealousy filled glance that is not very well concealed. As the three months pass, while the glances at Tiadora continue, her expression and intent become harder to read as her face begins giving away less and less.
In her off time, she's often seen carrying or reading from the Asmodean Mongraph the Cardinal provided, trying to learn more of the ways of her new patron diety. While by no means an expert on the subject matter she feels confident about the increased knowledge she has gaind from her reading.
Florian laughs heartily at Silarsha's joke. "I did know someone like that once; a very odd character. But no, my dear, I quite prefer my women to be alive." He winks at her, the humorous glint in his eye matching hers, then chuckles again.
Notably, while he replies to her joke, he does not actually explain what he was doing with those corpses. Instead he simply refills his wine glass, downs the entire thing in seconds, and proceeds to pour himself a glass of whiskey. Leaning back in his chair, sipping at his drink, he listens to the others speak without comment.
"Justice? Hmm," he finally says, his voice a bit lower than normal. "Is it justice, I wonder, or simply revenge?" He swirls his glass idly in his hand as he ponders his own question. "I suppose it doesn't matter, so long as they all bleed."
In response to Florian's comment about live women, Silarsha laughs along with his joke. Ha! Me too Florian. Me too.
"I'm the same way about men."
To his question, she nods and replies;
"Of course it's justice. Revenge would be just razing this nation to the ground, and salting the earth so that nothing can grow or live here for the next dozen generations. The rulers here will be dealt with harshly, for straying from honor and law, but the nation itself, and it's people will continue. They will all bleed some, but they'll come out stronger and better for it. Once they understand the lesson, they will see the justice I have brought to them in my Father's memory.
Though initially surprised to be tasked by the Cardinal with months of initial training, Florian throws himself into it. While he generally maintains the same friendly sort of demeanor he displayed upon his first meeting with the rest of the Ninth Knot, he also shows a certain intensity that was not immediately apparent early on. He engages with many of Thorn's lessons the way a bright and enthusiastic university student might; attentive listening, pointed questions, and so on. While always ruthless with the enemies placed before him, he slowly grows to be more proactive in anticipating and reacting to threats.
His interactions with Tiadora are not entirely dissimilar, if somewhat less reverent. He still asks questions when the opportunity presents itself, but suffers her ministrations with smiles and laughter rather than silence. He makes a concerted effort not to show the rage that swells within him when withstanding humiliation at her hands; only a handful of times does it peek through, anger smoldering in his gray eyes.
During his free time Florian frequently takes advantage of the fine food and drink to be found in the estate. Perhaps even more frequently, he spends a lot of time reading. He gets his own copy of the Asmodean Monograph from Cardinal Thorn, but reads from it only occasionally. The rest of his reading time is dedicated primarily to other texts kept at the estate. Every once in a while the young man can also be seen flipping through a small, nondescript text that appears to be a personal belonging rather than a loan from Thorn.
Over the months, though he almost always carries it in a pouch on his belt, Florian takes care to avoid inadvertently showing his spell poppet to anyone else. He shows it and explains its purpose to anyone who asks to know more about his abilities, or about the thing in the pouch he always seems to have with him, but he does not volunteer this information otherwise. Old habits and all that.
Heverly returns to her rooms where she takes on the guise of Genevieve again. Finally after she is satisfied, she joins the others in the lounge, just in time to hear Charmaine and Silarsha speak of their time in Branderscar.
"We left them broken and in chaos. Killed their Sargent. I doubt the prison will be in use for some time." She shudders as she thinks about her own past. "As for how I got there, when I was young, the villagers near where I grew up killed my father and tried to kill me, during the Asmodean purges." She grimaces, "Yes, I am that old. Regardless. Though they managed to take my hearing, they did not properly finish the job. And the fire they tried to kill me with, became a part of me. So I came back and repaid them." She finally takes a seat and grabs some wine, "They all burned to death in their 'sacred' church of Mitra," she finishes with a laugh.
She watches the discussion of revenge and justice, but finally looks around, "It is revenge. I won't be fooling myself. But it is a cold revenge. Not some silly flame burning randomly through the country only to be extinguished." Genevieve sips from her wine, "No I will burn low and slow, only the places that need it at first, but eventually, all those who are guilty will feel that cold fire of revenge." Genevieve smiles and downs the rest of her wine in a single gulp. Then I'll have the power to keep the Mitrans from hurting anyone else.
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Brice experiments with his new collar over the first few days of his training, settling upon a look of a portly Half-Elven merchant. His spell book outwardly now resembled a ledger book. Calling himself "Aiden", he kept the look going most of the time.
The training itself was grueling... swordplay never had been his strong point, and casting magic was equally foreign to him. Still, under the watchful eye of the Cardinal he gradually improved, and learned to capitalize on his weapon strikes to better follow up with a well placed volley of magical mayhem.
Learning under Tiadora was a different matter. The woman seemed hellbent on getting under his skin at every session... a fact that his sister did not forget or forgive. Many a night after such lessons did he have to placate the blade, promising that one day she would be able to slake her thirst for the woman's blood... one day after she had her revenge on their family.
In his free time, Brice spent many hours copying new spells into his book to be practiced the next day. Though he mingled with his newfound companions at meals and during training sessions, for the most part he was content to leave them to their own devices... with three notable exceptions. Occasionally he would seek out Genevieve or Florian to discuss magical matters with (especially when he was having trouble understanding a new spell). Such conversations were mostly business focused, but given the frequency he sought them for such it did leave room to wonder if he was really having trouble as he claimed or if he actually was just relishing in the ability to talk openly about magic with people that understood it on some level.
Every Tuesday Brice would seek out Charmaine in the afternoon. Assuming that time was permitting, he would use his magic to animate her stuffed bear while they had tea and discussed whatever topic the halfling wanted to.
Some nights he would seek out Silarsha and spar. These sessions universally ended with Brice on his back looking up at the point of her blade, but he did get better and quicker as the time proceeded. Not enough to prevent him from losing these bouts, but at least better enough to not lose in the first few moments. Strangely enough, he would never use magic in these matches.
Want to use some of my gold to transcribe new spells. Would it be safe to assume that the Cardinal would have a spellbook he could borrow for this or would he need to buy scrolls as well?
Brice lets out a low whistle at the account of their escape from Branderscar, clearly impressed. "An impressive feat... my apologies at assuming you had merely escaped the mines somehow."
He falls silent, taking sips of his port and the occasional bite of bacon-wrapped fig when the other refreshments arrive.
<You have been strangely silent of late... you aren't sulking are you?> he absently thinks at his blade while contemplating their discussion on revenge, justice, raiding, pillaging and burning.
As Gen finishes, he raises a glass to her. "I can toast to that. To the death and destruction of all those who have wronged us. May their deaths be as slow and painful as possible." He smiles and takes a sip, thinking, To you, dear old Dad... and do not worry, brothers... you are next after him...
"Afterwords we will have to bring the rest in line. I intend on claiming Varyston from my family and the infernal church. For too long has the place been a relative backwater. Under my beneficence I will see the place turned into a thriving hub of magical learning. All with the talent, drive, or thirst for knowledge will be welcome." And those that lack these... well, the salt mines could always use more laborers... for those that cannot serve as thralls that is.
"For me... I think it is revenge first and justice second. I was a servant on an estate, but after escaping, I fell in with a group of scoundrels. We used to fleece nobles left and right! It was a lot of fun, they were soooo predictable! Eventually though," she says, the joy slipping from her face, "My former master was our target. What we didn't know, is that we were the real targets. They must have caught wind of our actions and that f+$+er must have wanted to turn me in to the authorities himself." Here she pauses to take a long drink from her glass. "Once I stick it to him, haven't figured out how just yet, I can move on to justice," she concludes. So many ways to suffer... Simply death? Financial or political ruin? No need to choose yet, I'll think on it longer.
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Florian raises his whiskey glass in Brice's direction. "A man after my own heart!" He chuckles and takes a long drink. "Talingarde has been so reluctant to explore life's endless possibilities, particularly those that magical knowledge can bring." He looks over at Charmaine and smiles. "And remind me to keep an eye on my things around you, lest I be tricked relieved of them." The man's tone is humorous, indicating that this is obviously meant in jest.
"Revenge..." he says, looking up at the ceiling as he thinks. Ice clinks against glass as he swirls his drink idly. "I'd certainly like to know how the Knights found out about us and where we'd be. If someone sold us out..." he pauses for a sip from his drink, then says matter-of-factly, "...then they're going to die quite slowly. Beyond that there's no specific person to focus on, though, at least for me."
Silarsha will happily spar with Brice when asked. While primarily working with him over with a longsword, she'll occasionally swap to other weapons of her small arsenal; dispensing some of her "wisdom" along the way.
"Most of your training was fighting sword versus sword. But you can't block a hammer or an axe like you would a blade. They'll knock it aside, or batter through it to hit you. You've got to angle it off to the side, or better yet, move out of its path. "
During another session, where she uses a dagger;
"You've got to be much closer with this than you do with a sword. Obviously, it should give you the advantage right? Your longer blade can hurt them before their short one can hurt you? You'd be right too. Except anyone willingly fighting against your sword with just a dagger is going to be one of two things; very desperate or very skilled. Both are extremely dangerous, and not to be taken lightly."
Oddly enough she never comments on his not using magic during their sessions.
Refilling her cup as the others are talking, Silarsha considers the conversation.
He's right though, I can polish this up, and call it justice, but it's all the same at the end of the day. Whatever our reasons, we all want to overthrow this kingdom for the slights against us. My reasons may have more weight than Charmaine or Florian's, but we all have the same overall goal. Let them have their lands, or their arcane school...
She glances over towards Heverly and Charmaine.
Their church or thier gold when this is over. When I'm done Father will be proud of what I've done in his memory.
Brice raises his eyebrow at the mention of Charmaine's past. "Oh? Which estate was it? I might have had the pleasure of meeting the man previously depending on what social circles he maintained."
Shaking his head, the noble gets a slave to refill his glass. "Most of the nobility barely notices their staff as much beyond an object. Your friends must have been effective to have him acknowledge you as something more, no matter how briefly." And, I imagine, you must have been somewhat of a black eye to him among his peers to get him to actually do something himself.
With her drink full again, Silarsha returns to her chair.
Looking to Florian, as Brice and Charmaine are still engrossed the Halfling's past.
"So aside from living well and robbing graves, what did you do as a nobleman? I assume you did more than drink passable Talingarde booze and muck around in the cemetery. Were you betrothed? Travelling your lands acting as judge? Overseeing a set of small farms? Frequenting brothels that the Mitrans likely rail against in public, but attend in secret"
Florian arches an eyebrow at Silarsha and laughs lightly. He takes a sip, then throws a sidelong glance and a wry smile at Brice. "Dashing and well-groomed though I may be," he replies with a wink, "I'm not actually a nobleman. My family is a mercantile one. We're well off, but no titles of nobility." He pauses and looks up, thinking. "There was plenty of living well, honestly. Some time in cemeteries, too, though that served a few different purposes. Beyond that, lots of study of a variety of subjects. Mostly academic or magical in nature, of course. I'm hardly a paragon of physical prowess." He smiles and holds out his arms to emphasize this. "I'd help with the family business from time to time, but my father and eldest brother are the ones primarily responsible for that. It's just the two of them left besides me, so it kept them busy enough not to pay a great deal of attention to exactly what I was doing. They were probably very surprised to hear about me after my escape from the law."
Florian leans back in his seat, his gaze still held steadily on Silarsha. "No duties like Brice or his family would have had." He shrugs. "No betrothal, either, for better or worse. I'd hardly say my life is uninteresting, but my stories probably aren't as good as yours."
Florian's description of his familiy's suspected reaction to his crimes draws a chuckle. When he finishes, she responds;
"Of course I have stories, I'm Ulfen, the Skald's tales are in our blood. But my youth wasn't spent sailing and raiding or anything exciting. I lived with my family, we fished, raised crops, small herds of goats and sheep. Taking care of that took up most of our time. Even with the Thralls to help tend to things. There was also learning how to fight and use weapons, but my mother saw to that for my sister and I. My brothers learned to fight directly from my father, though I'd watch them as often as I could. In winters when things were slow was when my father left for his raids. My brother's being older; and of course being boys would go out with him once they were sixteen years."
She takes a long sip of her drink, her face showing her fondness for the memories.
"I wasn't allowed to go out with him until until I was eighteen years. And then only because I threatened to run off and join up with another Captain's ship."
She takes another sip.
"Once he let me go with him, I did my best to earn his respect, not as his daughter, but as a member of the crew. And once I proved I could handle myself, I think he had less reservations about me coming along. I know the first time I killed a man in a battle, his smile ran from ear to ear."
She sighs and sips again.
"This was my second season raiding with him. It didn't end the way we expected. but such is the way of Fate."
"It was the Reikard estate," Charmaine shares with Brice. "Does that name ring a bell? As a servant who didn't have a speaking role, I admit that the names of our visitors was far from my mind while working."
Brice's brow furrows a bit as he thinks on the name. "Reikard... Reikard... hm... that wasn't that younger fellow with delusions of expansion... no, that was Lord Richter..." The emphasis has enough sarcasm to convey Brice's thoughts on this lord. Brice takes a sip of his port as he thinks.
After a moment, the former noble's face brightens with remembrance, followed quickly by disgust. "OH.... HIM..." Brice says loud enough to probably cut into Florian and Silarsha's discussion on their pasts, at least for a moment. "That rat weasel in noble's clothing! I remember having to make appearances at his manor every summer until a few years back. Dreadful occurrences. The man barely had enough staff and space to accommodate all the families he tried to impress. My father put up with him out of his misguided sense of 'Mitrian charity'," Brice makes air quotations as he says those two words, underscoring the bile, sarcasm, and contempt with which he utters them, "but truthfully the man was only barely above the station of a wealthy merchant... without that level of wealth to boot." He laughs, but his face turns thoughtful.
"So you must have been the reason we had stopped going in recent years. My father never did give the details, but he had mentioned that Lord Reikard had somewhat of... a political scandal and black eye among the other houses, and that because of it it would not do for us to be seen associating with him. While I cannot confirm for certain that the two are the same, I doubt many other reasons would have had him seeing to a former servant personally like that."
Raising a glass in her direction, Brice smiles. "So here is to you, then... and your indirectly preventing several nights of tedium for me."
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SEVERAL SUMMERS?! I've probably SERVED you! Not sure what to make of her thoughts, she hesitantly raises her glass in return. "He certainly worked us hard," Charmaine admits. And my family was ever-willing to grovel at his damned feet. "Yup, to me! Haha..." she says back before drinking deeply. Feeling more than a little flush and conflicted, she rises unsteadily from her chair.
"Not to be a wet blanket, but i think it is time I retire for the night," she declares before wandering off to her room. While there, she makes sure to drink as much water as she can before the heavy sleep that only wine can bring consumes her.
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After some thought on the matter the evening after their meeting, Brice decided it would be more than appropriate to lend his aid to Charmaine's vengeance upon her former master. After all, he mused to himself, my own cause is not too dissimilar... and frankly her former lord was an embarrassment to those of noble blood everywhere even before her antics.
So resolved, he rose each morning and began working at the forge. Ostensibly, he claimed that such hours spent were to "perfect" his cover identity. After all, the portly merchant "Aiden" had to sell something to be believable... why not weapons?
Over the course of two and a half months, Brice toiled and labored on a tiny dagger for the tiny woman. He even secretly used their tea sessions to better get a sense of her hand size and grip in order to customize the way the handle would feel in her hand. Using magic and patience, he painstakingly carved designs and patterns pleasing to the eye along the edge, filling them in with silver and gold to make them stand out more. Having some time leftover on the final day of crafting, he quickly made two other small daggers of adequate craftsmanship in a similar style (though no where near the level of perfection that the first dagger had) so that she would have a few extra daggers to throw if need be.
Satisfied, Brice then proceeded to make a great axe for Silarsha. Not having the time he would have wanted to make a weapon of the same quality, he still took about a week creating a bearded single blade axe, carving sea creatures into the wooden shaft the axe head was attached to.
During their final week of training, Brice wordlessly presented both of them with these weapons, only pointing to the maker mark: his initials, branded onto the handles using his arcane mark magic.
At their last tea party, Charmaine can't help but notice Brice has brought something of his own. This is different! Setting about their usual business of discussing the application of magic in a variety to devious and mischievous situations, naturally over tea with Sir Reginald the Great and Ernie, she quickly forgets about it.
After Brice wordlessly presents the gift, near the end of their session, she leaps out of her chair, knocking it over. Pointing an accusatory finger at Ernie, then poking Sir Reginald The Great squarely in the chest, she asks. "Which of you put him up to this?" Looking at Brice, "Thank you, these look amazing! I'll treasure them greatly and give them their own special place!"
________
Heverly throws herself into the training. For the first month, she only ever appears as Genevieve. Then for a week, she comes in, every day, a different identity, until finally, she starts to come in, hesitant at first, as herself.
Heverly works hard, learning her strengths and weaknesses, and how the group can fit together. Once she starts joining as Heverly on a daily basis, she begins to attempt to pull the others together as well, hosting small bits of entertainment here and there, sometimes dancing, sometimes a simple reflection of their first night together, or even once an elaborate feast that she'd paid for. Each to give the knot the time and ability to grow closer. She spends her time getting to know and trying to get close to each of the others individually, and then to help them get to know one another.
With Tiadora Heverly is short and does little to hide her disdain of the wasted pain. Despite her distaste of the woman's teaching, Heverly knew it was important to learn, and she did.
Silarsha takes the axe from Brice with a big grin on her face.
"Thank you. This is very nice. I love the carvings on the handle." she says as she looks over the weapon. Stepping back a few paces, she swings it around herself in a very basic attack and defense pattern.
"This is great. I hope you won't be too offended if I don't carry it as much as some of my other weapons. Even with the circlet covering over my appearance, if a woman with an axe might draw too much attention. It's why I've been using a bastard sword. I'm not really trained well enough to use it's full potential, but it's heavy enough to hit hard while still being only a bit bigger than a longsword and not stand out as much. At least as far as any woman carrying a sword will stand out here."
