Hrungnir quieted down, not ready to start a fight...yet. The dwelf fell into a sullen silence as he kept a careful watch for any further developments.
Carnadine's patience ticks down a level when the armor ignores him. He tries to open the double doors now that the armor has moved away.
Assuming the double doors are locked, he moves to and tries to open the single door near him next.
The armor at the double doors barely flinches as Carnadine and Raseri approach, the ghost knight flinging the heavy wooden doors open agitatedly. And of course, with that, the cavalier has found his stables. They smell well cared for, but by all appearances are quite dreadful...smeared brown material of unknown composition covers most of the planks. Only a few rotten blankets and rain stained saddles make up the livery. Nothing living lingers here...but there are no less than 5 exits from this horse lot.
Deimus takes a few steps back, startled for a moment, then catches himself and says: "You! You will assist me. We have work to do! It'll be fun, you'll see..."
With the help, or not, of the Goblin, he starts to assemble and piece together plates to form a moebius ring similar to the ones they saw, but the size of a kobold or so. All the while, he ponders how to make an impression with the courts.
"Disgusting. Voyra, you are in a better place in the Red Stables." Carnadine concludes while starting to tour the stables.
Wander around.
Deimus, the poor looking goblin darted from under the table to the open door, but froze like a statue at your shout. It turned, pointing to its stomach with a questioning tilt of its head, then at you...it grunts and moans in something you probably wouldn't even call a language, they are just strange noises.
Carnadine, a casual stroll around the stables does not reveal too much...but it does seem the partitions are made for other animals besides just horses. If you had to guess, and partially based on your experiences thus far, you would say the smaller kennels are for dogs.
The Knight Captain Incorporeal continues wandering around exploring the "empty" keep. The noble dhampir has done some awful and boring activities in his life, so his well of patience is deep. He certainly does not show any displeasure on his face or in his nonverbal to give the fey any pleasure in his situation.
The door to this chamber is locked. The lock is made of steel and believe it or not appears to be covered in butter.
You find a dusty old library that seems to have been converted into even more space for dog kennels. Most of the scrolls and book are well eaten away by worms, wet, or simply age.
However, there is a relatively clean pedestal near the corner with a book open. You could swear someone just dropped the quill into the ink bottle...but maybe it was just your eyes. Looking closer, indeed even the ink seems still wet. Unfortunately, its in a language you can not read.
This looks to be an elite training yard...but like everything else in this damned place there is zero discipline and the entire thing is out of order. Spilled barrels of arrows...unwaxed crossbows...targeting dummies rusted and filled with more old birds nests than padding straw.
There is another curious animated armor here...and looking up to the adjacent battlement, a flying animated robe hovers ominously.
In the Librarium, Carnadine touches the book to read it using his Helm of Comprehend Languages.
Carnadine, invoking the magic of the helm, the pages slowly impart their story as the helm's now familiar soft, feminine voice patiently translate...
...after 20 or 30 minutes of scanning the pages, you get the general sense that this is a book of gossip and rumors. Somewhat helpfully, it gives the court's impressions of visitors from the past and certain memorable actions they took which garnered attention.
In addition, and perhaps more strikingly, the party is already logged in the books pages! A few quick mental excerpts...
...Carnadine, I think his name, a Knight from the Midgardian Realms with that abomination of a mount, sat in the gazebo seemingly enchanted by Eracen's violin. I suppose that proves the musician is actually good for something...
and...
...Raseri, cleric of some meaningless god, became the orphans' new toy. Pathetic really to watch clergy throw themselves down so far...
more dish...
...Shadow someone said her name was, or Dagger? Dagger shadow? Disappeared under the tree of lantern dragons...probably eaten already...
too juicy to put down...
...Hrungnir, that detestable dwarven stink with the elven ears, nearly upset the Monolith footman at the gate. I would've actually liked to have seen the Monolith get its ass kicked for once...such an ugly set of armor.
he's gotta be in there somewhere...
...Deimus, the gearforged is a remarkable machine. Pity its mannerisms and experience are so lacking...with the right care perhaps it could be retooled.
and finally...
...Kjeta, another drunken dwarf stink. She looked me right in the eye, I could have sworn...is it possible extreme drunkeness can pierce the veil of the Goddess?
Raseri stops at the door, hesitating just long enough for Carnadine to push past and throw open the doors himself. She feels foolish. Why did she expect that she could do anything to help? She wasn't a negotiator, nor was she versed in the ways of nobles, even those from the Northlands. She is the daughter of thralls, and one that had a wicked heart as a child. That revelation has bothered since she learned of it. Not that she was nothing more than property, but that she had burned an entire village to cinders and laughed about it. Then there was the curse always hanging over her head.
She is a fool. She should have never come.
She climbs the stairs to the battlements, seeking a place to be alone for a while. Her mind was a mess. What Carnadine had found had at least told her she is human, but the price feels like it had been more than a little of her blood. Her hand rubs the place she'd been bitten, thankfully healed fully. She wound an out of the way spot between the wall of a tower and the wall of the battlements. With a heavy sigh, she slumps down into the nook and curls up as she tries to think of what she should do next, but always her mind keeps going back to the fight with Haylcaster Montylgrue and back to the one in the library, two fights where she'd been useless to her friends. Both times, one of them had fallen, even though they still lived thanks to a miracle provided by her god.
What good was she if she had to be rescued or couldn't land a single blow on any of their opponents. Perhaps she should give her arms to Carnadine and stick to her work as a smith. That seems to be the only thing she was good for since most of her spells were curatives to keep her on her feet. She couldn't even claim being a decent distraction since the Master of Roads never seemed worried by her.
She can feel the walls closing in. She is a liability to the group. How much longer before something happens that pushes them over the edge? How much longer would she be accepted in the party? She could feel the pain in her chest as she pondered the answer to those questions and the possibility of leaving. She was out of place here, and she was beginning to suspect that is try of anywhere she would go.
She looks up at the stars and wonders what her life could have been like if not for the whims of fickle fate. She wondered if Thor actually did favor her, or if her supposed gifts were truly from him. What a cruel trick that would be. To believe that she is blessed by a god, only to learn a hag has fooled her and her abilities are nothing more than clever and powerful illusions. Perhaps that is why she feels so lost. She has never found the path.
Finally a key, Carnadine thought as he read through the book. That Monolith needs to be beaten into a pieces. And, I wonder if I could make contact with Eracen. He wonders to himself. When he had read all he could, he looks around the librarium with a wolfish grin and walks toward the courtyard with purpose.
In the courtyard, he whistles to gain the attention of his companions and summons them with an arm wave. He collects Deimus from the smithy and brings them together in the corner of the bailey behind the smithy.
When he had all of their attention, he whispered conspiratorially, "Behind the double doors from the courtyard are the stables. Next to that is a library where someone is writing about us already. So, they are here. We just cannot perceive them. For example, I swear I could her someone playing a violin near the gazebo, and it turns out the performer is called Eracen."
"They don't appear to like dwarves, but that shouldn't be a surprise. Alemaiden, you looked the writer of the gossip right in the eyes and really spooked them. I think we have to do things to gain their attention. So, I've thought of two things."
"First, we must find the best way to humiliate the Master of Roads and maybe the House Roren, too. Remember the Ambassador said humiliations last a life time. It needs to be memorable. I took a piece of his embroidered tunic as a trophy that we can use."
"Second, we must knock that giant animated armor into pieces. The one by the front gate. The writer wanted Hrungnir to "kick its ass for once," so it will not be a push-over. The writer called it a Monolith footman. And Thorsdottir if you need to get in the mood, the writer called Thor a meaningless god. Sounds like fighting words to me." He finished with his wolfish, canine flashing grin.
”At least they have the right idea on me. The martial part, not the Dwarven one. Seems to me though, that this is a test. So the fight is mine. I should do this thing properly.” He muttered runic words of power.
Hrungnir walked over to the guardian, and pulled out Snowcrash. It was, by all accounts, a weapon fit for any court. The fact that it was wreathed in flames only added to its ostentatious nature.
The shaft has a broad, curled cross-guard (unusual for this kind of weapon), creating the ideal weight balance to allow for smooth and accurate swings with the ball of death. The cross-guard has a gilded snake head on each side, this weapon was clearly a custom order, probably by an important figure. A massive pommel is decorated with a rare gem, swirling clouds reveal a mountainous scene when gazing within.
Intricate decorational patterns have been carefully etched into the ball, which is supposed to give the weapon and its owner extra strength.
This ancient weapon has seen kings being crowned, princes and princesses being born and kings and queens being married...
”A duel! Ye’ve failed in yer duty. When one of our own was shamelessly robbed, where were ye? When a stone caused damage to my person, where were ye? Ye’re a bloody failure that deserves a good thrashing. What day ye?”
Seeing Raseri head up to the battlements, Lexi pauses for a moment, looks over the others, then creeps up the stairs after Raseri, joining her on the wall.
"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
"You misunderstand me, I would not let you fight the Monolith alone." Carnadine draws his non-magical, veteran, silvered longsword. "Can't leave all the glory to you." Again the familiar wolfish smile with a gleam in his eyes.
The knight captain incorporeal readies his skull emblazoned shield and starts banging his longsword hilt against the crimson shield in support of the dwarf's monologue.
"No," Raseri admits equally as quiet.
"Ever since I was almost killed the Archive, I've been having memories return and seeing silver-eyed versions of myself. I don't know if I truly am blessed by Thor or if it's all some elaborate fey trick. I shouldn't have come," she begins to weep into her knees. "In every fight we have been in since that night, I have done nothing but fail. I cannot trust my own mind. I'm the daughter of thralls, fey cursed and fateless. They will not see me as anything but a lowly girl with delusions. I'm terrified, Lexi. I'm no good for anything unless I'm at a forge. It should've been me that was taken! Not you!"
She breaks down, sobbing softly as she sits curled up in the nook she'd found.
"Better that I died in the cold than damn you as I have."
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Deimus listens to Carnadine, then the others, and just keeps nodding and nodding, but then Raseri speaks up and he feels he has to say something: "Raseri, let me say that you've seemed to me nothing like a failure. Tzk. Quite the opposzite, really. I don't know Thor, but he seems like a demanding power. So push all this nonsense about failing aside, unless your idea is that you should work on your own. We are nothing by ourselves. Nothing worth a damn for Zobeck, but together! Well, together we've destroyed dragins, legions, hunters, and made our way into the heart of the very court that seeks to enslave us. So chin up, I'd say..."
"As to the more immediate matter, I've been working on something, but I need a hand. First, I need some food for that Goblin assistant I've found, but I could also need your help, Raseri. This forge is... Big for my skills. I'm more on the mechanics side, not the forging. I was thinking of making a reproduction of the moebius ring the Master of Roads trapped us on, with small illusions and automatons, perhaps we can create a tiny theater of sorts, you know, the ones we find on the larger streets of the Ghetto. We could reenact the fight, but a burlesque version of it, with the Masters having bowel issues and so fort. A comdey, to ridicule him properly. Anyway, I'll need some help with that..."
"Of course, I'm also happy to help smash another automaton. Perhaps we can use it for parts for the moebius act?"
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Carnadine, you find a few things that might be of note from the book besides just concerning the party. It seems the cook (from the kitchen nearby perhaps) owes money to Fordin of the East, the changeling Master of Horses. It further mentions that the cook has been putting saltpeter in the Master of Horses' meals. Such gossip!
There is a brief bit about hierarchy that catches your notice. 'True nobility is found downstairs as well as up. Visit Moggo the Chamberlain in the Goblin Court, and you might be granted an audience with the Goblin King.'
It also warns not to step on spiders, because they are royal children.
Even with the helm, some of the writing is beyond you ...so you close up the book for the day.
"Scoundrels." it points its blade at you "You are dismissed." stalking over aggressively.
Init:
The armor seems quite light on its feet, which might make sense since there is nothing but energy inside...
...its attack however is less than adequate to hack through the runesman's defenses.
Kjeta finds herself utterly vexed...scratching her head, taking a sip of ale, thinking she's got an idea...and then realizing it couldn't possibly work. In the end, she finds herself praying for some drunken inspiration from Ninkash.
"Hey Rusty!" Kjeta calls out, "Carnadine just called out your clear delinquency. If you can't take a little honesty, then we'll dismiss you like we dismissed the--"she shifts to a mocking falsetto"--'Maaaaster of Roooooads'"
Kjeta calls on the Alemother, causing her tankard to swell to greatness while she swings it at the bucket of metal.
At Kjeta's comment the machine seems to scan its memory banks for a moment, picking up Hrungnir's mention of robbery "No robbery or assaults were reported." it states calmly as it proceeds to parry and riposte.
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Lexi rubs Raseri's back while she cries, and then when she mentions her visions, Lexi chuckles and says "come on now. You mean to tell me that you're believing what a fey is telling you? they lie. Alot. All the time, really, and they're pretty good at doing it, too."
"Don't let them win. When the stupidity of their nonsense comes out, reply with 'quack quack quack you have a duck on your head'."
The knight captain incorporeal moves into melee with the animated armor with a brilliant smile on his alabaster-colored face and attempts to bull rush the armor off its feet with his shield emblazoned gules, a skull argent.
Then, the ghost knight hacks at it with his silver sword from the high guard position and backslashes back into position.
"Not these fey. They are bound by older rules that give them power," Raseri says, her voice soft and fearful. "And me burning my family and the village around my home was not any vision. I remember that. I did that. I–" Raseri chokes on the words as a sob threatens to send her crying again.
"I'm broken Lexi. I've been broken for a long time. I just didn't know until now."
Raseri joins the battle, her maul in her hands, but none of the customary fire and thunder. She circles around to get on animated armor's flank then steps in to attack.
Unfortunately, her swing is far short of her opponent.
Apparently the armor was even weaker than you suspected, and at Carnadine's masterful slash a thousand rivets seemed to disintegrate all at once, scattering little bits of the metal man all about the courtyard in a violent explosion of energy.
After the explosion your eyes fog over like a welling of tears...when you wipe them away, everything seems a bit clearer. Everything seems a bit nicer.
Carnadine, suddenly a little goblin is visible next to Deimus...hiding behind his shin.
Deimus, for you the entire courtyard seems to immediately burst with goblins, as hundreds of the little guys run hither and fro, carrying linens to wash, dishes full of food, lamp oils, hot bath water and such...little goblin servants everywhere and busy, busy, busy! You also see an Arbonesse elf (not shadow elf) standing over near the gazebo with a violin, watching the remnants of the fight with some interest.
"Before all this started, did you have this memory?"
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”Bah! That was my bloody duel! Stand the fook back.” Stalking over to the next guardian, Hrungnir pointed his weapon at it and repeated his challenge. ”...and by my honor let none interfere!”
————
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Hrungnir angrily steps over to the stables Monolith and before anyone can utter a WTF Snowcrash knocks the Monolith's hemlet into sub-orbit, sending a blue streak rainbowing into the night sky.
Deimus, before you can register what happened with Hrungnir or the goblin servants, the courtyard becomes even more packed with life. Strange humanoids with animal heads talk among themselves in elegant garb. Ogres linger around, some play fighting. And you also notice a certain goblin inside the smith hard at work, where before it was empty.
Carnadine, you also now can clearly see the musician near the gazebo.
Hru, Kjeta, and Raseri...foxes and mice now populate the courtyard, where before it was only ravens and owls.
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"Before all this started, did you have this memory?"
"No, I did not remember anything from before waking in a grove outside of Zobeck," Raseri answers, slowly calming down. "I know things, but not why or how I know them."
Raseri blinks once then again as she sees things appearing before her. Owls, ravens, mice, and foxes. The fight was over so quickly, she didn't even realize what was going on before Hrungnir batters another of the strange armors into scrap.
"This is strange. Why have such weak guards," she asks no one in particular, curiosity temporarily banishing her depression.
"Weak guards? You've strong companions, Thorsdottir! Next one, we'll leave for you." Carnadine replies to Raseri. He stows his shield and sheaths his sword.
The ghost knight attempts to salvage the pieces of the monolith footman and carry them to Diemus at the smithy. "I like your plan, Diemus. Here are some materials." Instead of actually working in the smithy (like a craftsman), Carnadine attempts to recover the sword of the monolith footman, hoping that it is a magical longsword.
"Alemaiden, do you have some of your Blessed Brew available?" The noble dhampir looks for every advantage.
Leaving Deimus to his work, the knight captain incorporeal heads over to the Arbonesse elf standing over near the gazebo with a violin. "Eracen, I presume. Thank you for your music. It helped me discovering what's really here. Perhaps, I can accompany you on my lute?" The courtier tries to get the lay of the land.
"What brings you to the shadow court?"
"What would be a great humiliation to the Master of Roads and House Roren?"
"What more could I do to reveal what is truly here?"
"Should we rest in the guest rooms there? Or are there safer places to sleep?"
"No, that... wasn't..." Raseri starts to protest, but her voice trails off as Carnadine heads off to whatever task he has set out to complete.
Thinking that perhaps she'd feel better after some work, she turns to Deimus.
"You said you needed some help?"
A grin washes over her face as Kjeta sees the foxes and mice. She decides now might be a good time to head into the stables and kennel, to see if she can find any other animals.
Kjeta blinks twice as the Knight Incorporeal chats with...empty air. She listens with interest to see if he'll receive an answer.
Hrungnir grinned from ear to ear as the helmet flew away. The dwelf he now was took over. As he saw creatures appear, he decided that they would make the perfect audience for some poetry.
”Oi! What’s this? Have ye come after the feat of arms? Then come now, be ye apparitions our resident spirits. I take it ye’ve never seen a dwarf before? Well, let me introduce meself. Name is Hrungnir, and I’ll share with ye some of me culture. So gather and listen...”
And with that he broke into verse, telling the Saga of Duran Redmane in the method of the skalds of his people.
”...Duran was borne off
By the burning forge,
The searing flames
Was his end:
My son, who shunned
All spite and slander -
I must weep. But why
For one so all-worthy ?
Remember his fate
And forget I will not
Magrim, not Egil,
Holds him for ever,
The orc has stolen my son,
The sapling growth
From my wife´s womb
The warrior-seed.
The hammer-god shared
Spoil with me,
My oath was to Torag,
He gave me aid:
Now that maker of mystic
Runes only mocks me
Voids all my victories,
I, the breaker of vows.
I´ll make offerings to Angradd
Though not in eagerness,
I´ll make my soul´s sacrifice
Not suffer silently:
Though this friend has left me,
Breaker of orcs,
To his credits he comforts me
I join him.
That wolf-killer, that warrior
God, well seasoned in war
Bestowed a bounty
Not to be bettered:
To my art he added
One other gift,
A heart that held
Not craft only: hatred !
The end is all.
Even now
High on the headland
Magrim stands and waits,
Life fades, and I must fall
And face my own end
Not in misery and mourning
But with a man´s heart.”
After the fight, Deimus takes in the sight he is now privy to. As he discusses a d realizes many can't see what he sees, he offers to describe it to whoever will listen.
Otherwise, he is somewhat let down as everyone seems to be leaving him to his task. One by one, he visits his clutch members and tries to get them to give him a hand.
Once this is done, he gets to work with his Goblin: "What is your name, bu the way? You can call me Deimus."
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"If you didn't remember it before they arrived, how can you trust that memory at all? It seems to me the more likely story is that oh, god, help me, these things you were manipulated into 'remembering' it."
Deimus smiles as Raseri joins him. He gives her ample place for her work: "Any thoughts on how to make an impression? I was thinking comedy theatre, but perhaps another way can be thought..."
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Up on the battlements, the ex-bodyguards held each other and reflected on Raseri's inner turmoil. Her memory was a swamp, halfway between solid ground and deep loss. Tiny islands of recollection scattered in hostile territory...mapping such terrain is difficult, often only hinting of boundaries.
Carnadine, the sword along with the pieces of armor is actually quite shoddy despite its decoration...resembling goblin dweomercraft at best. Likely the magic of the being itself was causing it to glow...you note the damage to the blade is as if it were heated and cooled rapidly in succession over and over.
You approach the gazebo and the musician there...
He nods and smiles slightly, acknowledging the name. The thin elf's smile is wholly unnerving: not because any malice or cruelty lurks beyond his perfectly straight-toothed grin, but because of its unnatural intensity. The pale man looks as if he were posing for some portrait, waiting for a painter to capture him.
Even in a painting, the fellow would be somewhat disquieting. His pale blue eyes peer out wildly from beneath his blond locks, most of which are gathered in a long ponytail. His snow-white skin lacks any of the flush or blooded hue of health.
He doesn't miss a beat though as you step up with your lute play, turning the melody into a free-style reminding you of the elven forests north of your homelands back in Midgard. It appears Eracen is a violinist without peer. With his face pressed against the violin's cool wood, the haunted elf occasionally finds peace. In his hands, the bow ignites the string with fiery notes that stir whatever embers still glow in his heart.
He first offers a jovial compliment "Quite deft for a knight! When we heard you were coming I expected to see you conquer the martial yards, not a fret board." After a time, theres a pause and you begin your inquiries...
Eracen seems gregarious enough, slapping you on the back "Hah. Not even a season in the courts and you already want to talk dish? I can oblige..." he glances around and lowers his voice in a conspiratory tone....
"What brings you to the shadow court?"
"Chief Entertainer, at your service." he says a bit sarcastically.
"What would be a great humiliation to the Master of Roads and House Roren?"
"House Roren? Eeesh. Misers all. Master of Roads you say? Ah yes...the Montlegrue youth. He's already a bit snubbed here what with the incident with the dragon and all. Eh, the Roren's fief includes guarding the south road you see, the one leading through the ruins of Zobeck. For hundreds of years, House Roren fire giants cleared the planar trade routes of undead and kept the way open." he plays a few notes that suddenly occur to him, then continues "Well, then Haylcaster comes along...young, dumb, and with grand ideas of dragons. I may have the name wrong, but it was a black called Mistinarperadnacles...or Mist for short. Thing went bat s+~& crazy, corrupted by shadows, started imprisoning the giants in strange crystals that grew from its breath. Not many go that way anymore."
"But you mentioned insults? The best insults are the ones that become catch-phrases for a few seasons. You know what I mean? A clever jibe that everyone from the most elegant princess to the greasiest brownie says again and again for a trend. 'Jackass-face' was a recent one...like, someone would ask you a favor, and the trendy funny thing to do would be to respond politely 'Certainly though only since you're not such a jackass-face." he chuckles to himself. "Trend setters are pretty popular."
"What more could I do to reveal what is truly here?"
"You mean the Queen's veil? Well, someone like you...jousting comes to mind. They often set course just there, near the stables. I'm sure one will be starting again soon...you wager your arms and armor against another knight, of course. Heh. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you how a tournament works."
"Should we rest in the guest rooms there? Or are there safer places to sleep?"
"Honestly, if you don't have a written invitation from the Queen...they will probably try to throw you out tonight. But that risk might be better than trying to camp outside the walls..."
Hrungnir, remarkably, the animals actually heed your call. A small flock of ravens and owls land in a semicircle about you as foxes and mice settle down on their haunches attentively ().
Perhaps even more remarkably, at the end of your poem, one of the foxes in the audience speaks! "Are you really a dwarf though? You don't look like one...the smell is close though." then, realizing it may have just been rude by mistake, startles and squeaks "Er! I mean from what I've heard anyways!"
Raseri frowns as she listens to Lexi, hearing something uncharacteristic of either her old self or this new personality. She almost tries to dig deeper, but realizes that Lexi could be in more danger than she realized if she did and could do nothing about it.
"Perhaps you're right," she sighs, not feeling any better about that possibility either. What could she trust about herself? She had to find a way to help Lexi, but how? She knew of spells that could lift curses, but she did not have the strength to cast them.
"I think I just need to do something to keep my mind off of it," she says, standing and heading back.
"I have seen a comedy before while watching a young noble's son and his mother. I was not impressed," Raseri says as she looks over the sketches. "Perhaps–" she begins to say when she looks up and sees Deimus talking to thin air. "Deimus? Who are you talking to?"
"Well, I was thinking something more subtle in its mockery. You sketched out something like that place we were in. I was thinking an engraving that would tell the story of his defeat at Kjeta and Carnadine's hands. Perhaps even his failure in Zobeck could be included. If we had the materials we could do inlays and leaf to really make it a work of art," Raseri begins to pull off her armor and set it and her other gear aside before pulling out the tools she'd need from her well organized pack. "How good are you with a graver," she asks as she pulls out a journal and a charcoal pencil to sketch with. After thinking for a moment, she asks another question. "Do you think that we could build something that would move it form scene to scene? Rotating the strip so the scenes are always the right way up?"
Seeing the Alemaiden listening, Carnadine says, "Where are my manners. Eracen, please let me introduce you to Kjeta Strongmalt, Hero of the Hops. Alemaiden, this is Eracen, Chief Entertainer."
"If we had a letter of introduction from an Ambassador of the Shadow Courts, who would we present it to, so we can secure boarding?"
"Thank you for the advice. Is there a particular knight whom I should target my lance?"
"What's your story? If it wasn't for your pointed ears and Elven grace, I would have thought that your fair complexion would make you a kin of mine from Morgau." The noble dhampir easily banters trying to acquire more information / intelligence / ammunition for the courtly battle.
Deimus nods and shrugs, following Raseri's lead.
”Honestly?” Hrungnir said to the forest animal. ”I am not quite so sure any more.” Regarding his audience, he continued ”What is it to be a dwarf? Did I abandon that when I abandoned my home and clan, all in search for the fey that stole my heart? Did I lose what it was to be Dwarven when this realm changed my appearance? Does any of that matter? Who am I to say? Now. Will ye grace me with a tale of your own, or is another saga from me desired?”
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When Deimus asks the goblin's name, it simply makes the same strange noises that can't even be called a language...
Near the gazebo with Kjeta, Carnadine, and Eracen...
Seeing the Alemaiden listening, Carnadine says, "Where are my manners. Eracen, please let me introduce you to Kjeta Strongmalt, Hero of the Hops. Alemaiden, this is Eracen, Chief Entertainer."
He chuckles "She likely can't see me...I don't remember the last time dwarves have been here in the courts, perhaps the veil works differently for them. Too bad, I prefer a honey mead at times over the wines..."
"If we had a letter of introduction from an Ambassador of the Shadow Courts, who would we present it to, so we can secure boarding?"
We have a letter, right?
He shakes his head "No, I think even if you had such a letter it would be of little use. You are either guests of the Queen or servants. Only those with high status might get her attention, I'm afraid."
"Thank you for the advice. Is there a particular knight whom I should target my lance?"
"If your goal is to make an impression, rather than just take ransoms, you should choose someone stronger than you that everyone knows. I'd be careful though, you may not realize the warfare some of the court vets here have been engaging in. The umbral vampires of Oshragora are a sworn enemy of the Fey Courts...they are heavily trained against undead with regular skirmishes." he tips his hat earnestly.
"Then there's the Ravens, a faction of young duelists...entirely different class of warrior. They are always looking for more to join them..."
"What's your story? If it wasn't for your pointed ears and Elven grace, I would have thought that your fair complexion would make you a kin of mine from Morgau." The noble dhampir easily banters trying to acquire more information / intelligence / ammunition for the courtly battle.
He looks of into the distance at something you dont see somewhat forlorn, before "...well, this Realm has certain effects on those who linger...so you will find. Perhaps another time, I fear I am being summoned yet again..." he says with no real sense of happiness, standing and walking off towards the palace.