Edward grins at the young Ty. Edward proceeds to go through the tale methodically, from start to finish. Explaining in great detail until he gets to the final battle and how it was won, giving proper credit to Ty, Richard, and Conri. "I fear I did little to aid in our cause, Milord. These three truly carried the day. Sir Richard was fantastic in keeping Sir Ty alive and between Sir Ty's blades and Sir Conri's magic on the offense that was enough to bring Sir Kreel to his final rest. A fine showing of teamwork I have ever witnessed, Milord. The rest, as they say, is history," he finishes, giving a slight bow as he presents the cloak to him.
”You think too little of yourself, Sir Edward. A team member’s contribution can be measured in far more ways than the amount of bone dust on his sword.”
Turning to Sir Rollynd, the paladin can only shake his head and grin at his pathetic mistake. Ashamed and embarrassed, "And I obviously forgot to mention Sir Rollynd who played and equally important role in defeating Kreel. How do I mention him in our previous endeavors, yet, I forget to mention him in our most decisive battle of all? Forgive me for my exclusion of you, Sir Rollynd. Truly unacceptable." He looks back to Genedair the Faithful, "And Sir Rollynd as well, Milord," he confirms, nodding. "So what happens to the cloak now? Is it returned to its rightful place?"
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If you would be willing to take this on, the Church of Iomedae would reward you handsomely for retrieving such a precious artefact.
"Forgive my presumption of recompense, but what is the Church prepared to provide us for returning this artefact? In addition, is the retrieval of this artefact the only service the Church requires of us? or are there other matters where we can be of assistance?"
Genedair smiles as the cloak is brought out. ”Valla, you have studied everything we know about the cloak. Can you confirm its authenticity, not that I doubt your integrity, or your tale, but we must be sure.”
Valla casts detect magic, grits her teeth through the pain of the overwhelming aura, and studies what she sees. She nods to confirm: based on her knowledge and understanding, she declares that you have the genuine Cloak of the Inheritor.
”Fear not, my friend,” Genedair continues, ”We will honour our agreement. The Seventh Church and Order of Iomedae cannot thank you enough for this great service. Tomorrow evening, I would like to host a banquet in your honour for the clergy here and certain trustworthy friends of th Order. I understand that you brought back other relics taken during the raid. I will inform the Sexton to insure you are generously compensated for those items as well. I will also have rooms readied for you so you may be comfortable."
You have no obligations until the next evening. You breakfast with Valla and Sir Rollynd (if you wish). Valla tries to pry every detail out of you about the Citadel. Then you have the day to shop in the city. Just let me know what you buy (it's Absalom, so you can find pretty much anything), and if you shop separately or stick together or meet up somewhere.
Ty whistles in appreciation when he sees large sum of gold they've been given. He stares at it thoughtfully before considering Edward, Richard, and Sir Rollynd. Then he cheerfully but abruptly announces that he needs to take care of a few things, and he makes a quick exit. Provided there are no coincidental encounters, the party will not see Ty until the following evening.
Narrowing his eyes at the youngster as he takes his leave, Edward turns to the others. "Why do I have a bad feeling about that?" he asks rhetorically before turning back to Genedair. "Thank you, Milord." And with that, he will take his leave and get some rest after a couple of long days.
In the morning he will gladly meet Valla and Rollynd - and whoever else - for breakfast. Then after that he will proceed to visit the market in an attempt to find something to aid him in future endeavors and if any of the others wish to go with him, he would welcome their company.
Sir Richard? Any plans or requests for the down time?
Richard and Edward make their way to market, for Richard to sell armour and Edward to buy a shield. Everyone who lives any amount of time in Absalom knows that Pavlo’s is the best shop to find exotic but nonmagical armours and shields, so it’s little coincidence when, while Pavlo is in the back fetching a shield for Edward, Ty steps out of a fitting room in some snazzy new dark leaf armour. Pavlo hadn’t been too keen to cater to an obvious street rat, but even successful street rats don’t have that kind of gold, so Ty has found himself taken for the fifth son of some lord and shown the very best.
As you exit the armourer’s shop, a group of six early-20-something humans make their way towards you. Certain they will go around, Richard is caught off guard as one young man makes direct and deliberate shoulder contact, knocking the priest to the ground. Now warned, and considerably more nimble, Ty manages to avoid the shoulder meant for him.
The young man that knocked Richard over laughs roughly (and slightly drunkenly). "Watch where you step, half-blooded demon freak!" he calls out. "Our Lord decrees you be put where you belong!"
Richard finds his family well (not sure how much of his adventures he would tell his parents). His father is particularly excited to announce that he’s added a pair of smaller coastal ships to his trading fleet, with routes to Andoran, taking them exotic Osirian spices in exchange for fine Andoran darkwood lumber.
Ty may still be dressed like a street rat, but he's doing his best not to look like one. He's washed the ever-present grime off of his face and out of his hair, letting the metallic glint of his hair and his burnished skin be visible. He's still short, and he still looks young, but he no longer looks like a pre-teen human boy.
Ty slinks past the man trying to shoulder him and rushes over to help Richard up.
"Are you all right? Let me help you up. No, Richard! Don't give them any nasty looks! They look nasty enough as it is! I mean, look at that guy," Ty indicates the man who had spoken. "He's what happen when butt and ugly had a baby. And that guy," Ty indicates the man who tried to shoulder him, "he looks like his face caught on fire and someone tried to put it out with a mace. And, wow, that guy's face could make an onion cry. That guy in the back? When he gets mugged, the thief takes off their mask and makes him wear it. And I'd hate to have to be that guy's pillow every night. You could tie a pork chop around his neck, and his puppy still won't play with him..."
One by one, Ty has a comment for each of the humans. When he runs out of humans, he starts back with the first one and keeps going.
"I bet he has to sneak up on his razor each morning if he wants to shave. This guy doesn't know what he looks like because his reflection refuses to come to the mirror. His birth certificate is just an apology from the midwife...."
Edward can't help but let a slight grin form at the expense of the hoodlums. Stepping in their way, "I believe you owe my friend an apology, my good man. Your actions and your words were both unwarranted and unacceptable. I do not understand the reasoning behind this blatant scene of disrespect but I am sure you will find it in your heart to make amends," he tells him candidly, awaiting for said apology.
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Richard smiles at Ty and says to Edward
"Thank you for showing these ruffians just how rude they were being. I am sure they would like to explain their actions and ask for forgiveness. After all, disrespect for clergy is frowned upon at best. If they are unrepentant, I am certain we can demonstrate what happens to the worst."
To the ruffians Richard asks
"So, what do you have to say to us?"
Another young man steps forward from the back of the group. He is clearly no ruffian, wearing fine velvets and stroking the hilt of a very fine rapier at his belt. He holds out an unfamiliar silver holy symbol of two cupped hands holding a stylized flame set with garnets and yellow topaz.
"Forgiveness? We will not ask for forgiveness for doing our Lord's work. You should stay on the ground, freak. Lord Masoumi's light will scorch you if you rise too high."
Pulling himself up straight, Edward retrains a steel resolve as he studies the miscreant. "Lord Masoumi you say? Thank you." He then turns to his compatriots. "Let us continue on, gentlemen. We've a busy day ahead of us," he tells them, moving on as if nothing happened.
Ty stands up, but now he's silent. He knows how this is playing out, so he's mentally preparing himself for a brawl right here in the street. He waits to see how the crowd reacts to Edward turning away before he attempts to do so.
”Where do you think you’re going, traitor? Your pet sewer rat was rude and disrespectful to his betters. I think some recompense is in order. In blood.”
A crowd has begun to gather, though most people do not seem too interested in airing either side. A pair of the city watch approach, take in your group, then the ruffians. They clearly recognize the loud rich man and visibly blanch before asking him, ”Is there some trouble here, my lord?”
”He is a traitor,” the lifelong replies, flinging an unsteady hand in Edward’s direction. ”Traitor to his own kind for mixing with the likes of you. Captain,” he continues, turning to the watchman, ”Have these fiends arrested. That one was rude and impudent. My mother will want them hung by their heels and whipped for such insolence.”
The watchman wrings his hands nervously. ”My lord, I think that would be unadvisable. These gentlemen do not appear the sort to accost respectable folks, and you do appear to be somewhat in the drink. Perhaps...”
”In the drink? If I am, it’s the state of this city that sends me there. “ He lifts his hands and produces a Flame of Masoumi. "The day is soon coming, and is now here, when Our Lord will lead the human race to greatness and glory once again. The lesser races pollute our way of life and our great city with their presence. They swarm out of Kyonin, and the Holds of Belkzen, and even the Worldwound, and come to Absalom, and bring their problems with them. They aren’t sending their best, are they? Crime is rampant! We need a total and complete shut down on the lesser races entering our city until we can figure out what to do with those we already have here..."
The young loudmouth proceeds to continue on for quite awhile with his little aggrandising speech, and the crowd seems quite taken with him, repeating calls to make Absalom great again, whatever that should mean. You notice several elves, a dwarf, and family of halflings quickly vacating the area as tensions rev up.
Clenching his jaw, Edward stops in his tracks and turns and glares at the ruffian. Walking a few paces back toward the troublemaker, "Traitor am I? For 'mixing' with the likes of him, you say?" he motions toward Richard. "Funny you should say that," he says, grinning slyly through narrowed eyes. "Well let me explain to you, sir, exactly what kind of humanoid you are. And I will be sure to make myself perfectly clear so you will understand. I am aware that a simpleton such as yourself may take me out of context and we wouldn't want that now would we? Now... you, sir, are truly nothing more than a pathetic excuse for whatever it is you claim to be. One who has no relational skills whatsoever, no friends to speak of because in his mind he was too 'good' for them, was handed everything to him on a silver platter and now goes around with his entourage stirring up trouble to make himself feel 'important' because no one else will. Odds are you are probably an only child but I digress. So why don't you return to your mother and apologize to her for being a complete embarrassment to not only her but to the entirety of your family name. And for the record, not that it should matter one way or another, while I may appear human to you and others, let me assure you... I am not. And just to be absolutely clear in that regard - because I know how difficult this may be for one such as yourself to comprehend basic common - me and this gentleman here," he again motions to Richard, "are of the same heritage."
"Oooooooooooh!"
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To the watchmen Richard asks:
"Kind sirs, perhaps it might calm things down some if you would assist these gentlemen to wherever they are headed. We plan to continue shopping and supporting these local businessmen. Thank you again for your assistance."
With that, Richard begins to move away from the group of men that accosted them and looks for other interesting items to assist them on their adventuring endeavors.
The lordling sputters indignantly at Edward. ”You dare to speak to me that way? There can only be one answer to that, fool!” and he attempts to draw his rapier, but is too inebriated to bare more than a few inches of blade before getting his hilt tangled in his cloak.
”That would be best, though better if you cleared out of this area altogether,” the guardsman replies to Richard. ”There have been three other altercations involving non-humans in the last 24 hours. Tensions are climbing.”
Turning to the lordling, the watchman steels himself before rebuking the man for drawing his weapon (or at least trying to) in a crowded city street. The drunk continues to spout off some stuff about racial purity and the presumed downfall of Absalom while you three quietly and quickly exit the immediate area.
As they walk, Ty talks to Richard. "If that's becoming a thing, then the other churches need to become involved. If one deity guy is going to state racist claims as the truth, and the other deity folks don't speak up, people are going to think they all agree.
"And it figures that this happens on the day I drop my 'human boy' disguise."
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"Yes, I think I need to bring this incident up to my superiors at the Cathedral and see what their take is on the matter. Let's take the guardsman advice and leave shopping for another day - at least until we figure out more about who/what is behind this Masoumi/human prejudice."
Richard orients himself to mentally discern the path to the Cathedral and begins to head in that direction.
"I'm going to the Cathedral now to report and do some digging into this. I suggest we minimize our visibility on the streets until we know more. We should meet up later and review what we have discovered. My family's warehouse near the docks is a good location for a rendezvous. Let's say around sunset. I will get someone to prepare us dinner."
Richard pauses a moment for any responses before he heads off to the Cathedral.
Ty nods and then blends into the crowd. Despite the guard's recommendation, he continues his shopping . He'll meet up with the others at Richard's family's warehouse.
Keeping a low profile, you manage to avoid becoming the centre of any further racist incidents, though you do witness, if nothing as overt as you were subjected to, a heightened tension and suspicion. Human shopkeepers watch non-human customers more closely than before, and non-humans travel in groups and walk with eyes lowered.
At the Saranrae cathedral, Richard learns that this new-found tension has only really started up in the past two days or so. It started as a bit of pride revolving around those in the city who received the Flame of Masoumi. It became clear very quickly that only humans (or those with enough human ancestry to count as human) received the blessing. The clerics at the cathedral are very puzzled by the Flames, as it shouldn’t be posssible. Divine magic, even spontaneous divine magic, comes from personal faith, but plenty of people without that faith in Masoumi have received the orison. This conundrum has started to spread through the city, which has led some humans with the gift to proclaim a message of favour for humans, which quickly deteriorated into a message of the superiority of humans. The fact that all this has begun to take place with 48 hours is very concerning to Richard’s superiors, as he’s able to report to the group that evening.
What Richard isn’t able to find out, is whether or not these ideals of superiority are coming from the new god himself, or just his mortal followers, who already appear to number in the dozens, if not more.
Nodding in response to Richard, "Very well. The warehouse at sunset. We shall see you then." Edward then decides to go along with Ty on his shopping spree.
Listening to Richard's intel, Edward takes a deep breath in thought before finally speaking. "It appears we need to find out more about this 'Masoumi'. I confess I know very little about this deity but if his followers are as zealous as the troublemaker we ran into, we would be wise to remain vigilant no matter where we go. Probably also wise we go together wherever we go as well. I would like to speak to Lady Valla about Masoumi. Maybe she can enlighten us to what this deity is all about."
"Well, if we've been asked to find one of these Bloodstones, it'll probably (hopefully) take us out of Absalom and on the road. We may not have time for figuring out Masoumi."
"Well, if we've been asked to find one of these Bloodstones, it'll probably (hopefully) take us out of Absalom and on the road. We may not have time for figuring out Masoumi."
Nodding, "Fair point. That can be dealt with at a later date depending on how serious the matter becomes."
"I forgot that the Seventh Church is hosting a banquet tonight in our honor. We should proceed to the banquet. Hopefully afterwards we will receive some additional information and instructions on what the Church needs us to do about this situation."
Turning to Richard, "You know, I believe that's a fine idea, my good man! I'm famished and could use a bite to eat."
Morgana smiles as she pays for her purchase and straps the shield to her left arm, It's like it weighs nothing... Half-tempted to send my tutors a note ... Especially Griel, who kept saying I was being lazy, and that moving properly in armour wasn't a problem I could think my way out of. Well, Griel, looks like I thought up a pretty good solution after all. She takes a moment to admire the fine work with a careful eye, then smiles again, Think I'll need to make my illusory armour a little nicer, now..
She snaps out her thoughts as she looks up and around the shop, noticing a strange-looking crystal on one of the shelves along with other ingots and ore. Is that....? She raises her hands almost instinctively before stopping herself, Wait...
She asks gently, "Could I see that for a moment?", and smiles as the clerk hands it over, ..apparently buying a mithral shield gets you at least a bit of goodwill..
She holds the thing, looking at its facets from a number of angles, It sure looks like..., then blinks as she feels her magic align with the crystal. A spell lattice! That's remarkable! But...what spell...? She closes her mind and concentrates, pushing her magic through the patterns in her mind, and when it touches the stone she laughs. Summon Monster... That's just cruel... Might as well get a spell lattice that lets me cast a spell allowing me to breathe air...
She sighs and hands the stone back, "Thanks. Was right about what it is, but, sadly, not something I can use." She laughs bitterly and says, "Don't suppose you have a bunch of others in the back?"
The man behind the counter shakes his head, and says, "Nope, sorry.", and she nods, As I expected.., and turns toward the door when a voice behind her calls out, "...but I can tell you where we got it. They had more."
She stops as if jolted, and smiles, her eyes shining even in the shade of her hat. "That... would be most.... appreciated," she says, turning back to the counter, and sliding a platinum coin across as a finder's fee.
****
After a few hours of sliding coins across increasingly seedier tables, from one lead to the next -- and let's not think too hard about the "clever" person in the Alley that decided to try to rob the rich spoiled girl and needed to have a magma elemental change his mind -- Those burns should heal in time, and the scars will be a constant reminder of his lessons... -- Morgana finds herself in a tiny corner of a shipping warehouse, talking to a halfling-sized Tiefling desperately trying - and failing - to cover his Chelish accent -- the sort of thing that would normally catch the girl's interest, but at the moment, her attention is focused wholly on the crystals in his hand. She raises her hand, and pushes her internal magic through what is now a very familiary little shortcut -- so much so that only a tiny part of her mocks the Acadamae instructors who told her it was impossible as she did it, calling a lightning elemental to her side. "A bodyguard," she offers, "Given your man, there, with the daggers that I don't fully trust... and the one hiding poorly behind the crates."
The tiefling acts surprised, and begins to stammer he doesn't know what she's talking about and Morgana smiles, "Oh, well, then I think you're being robbed. Let me help with that.", and gives a quick command in Auran, causing the elemental to rush toward the crates - and the hidden thug -- before the tiefling calls out, "Wait! That must just be one of my men cleaning!"
"Of course it is," Morgana agrees with a cool smile, calling the elemental back, "And with that settled, let me see the lattices." She takes each stone, holding it for a moment and touching it with her magic, rather than casting a spell, They seem the type that would use Magic Aura to try to cheat someone, but you can't fake this.... Her eyes widen, Lightning Bolt? Where on earth did they get that? I'm half-tempted to take them all, but the last thing I need is to have a gang capable of stealing these carry a grudge. Still, something to keep in mind if I come across some additional coin later... She cycles through the others, nodding each time, before finally saying, "This one's burnt out. Someone copied the spell from it. Just so you know for your next customer. But, I will take this one. It's a Shield spell, incidentally."
The tielfling smiles, "I thought that was the prettiest one, actually. So, let's talk price. I know someone who'll give me a 1,800 for it."
Morgana laughs, "Then go sell it to him. I was told it'd be 1,000, and," she pulls out a purse, "Here it is. I didn't bring any more money. I guess I'm just too trusting of your associates who got me here."
She smiles again, and pushes up the brim of her hat, slightly, making sure the small man can see the expression in her eyes.
She shrugs, "If your associates giving bad pricing information sounds like the sort of issue you should address next time you speak to them, but, that's not really my problem, now is it? I can go with the gold, or with the stone, your call."
The small man pauses, then looks at the elemental again, and Morgana laughs, "Oh, you expected him to vanish? Sorry, you'll be waiting a while for that, and I, for one, have other plans for the rest of my day." She starts to put the purse away, "Sorry we couldn't do business," but stops when the tielfing says, "Wait."
Morgana smiles, and slides the stone into the pocket that used to hold the coinpurse, "Pleasure doing business with you, Ferkol," before dropping the purse on the table before her. "If you don't mind, I might come back for some of the others when I'm a little more flush."
She starts to leave, then stops at the door, calling over her shoulder, "Sparky, here, will be watching over me on the way back to the Inn. No need to send one of your men, though I appreciate the thought."
With that, she says something in Auran, and there's a crackle as the elemental flies and stops, hovering just over her head. "As I said, a pleasure, Ferkol," she repeats before rushing out and back to a less seedy part of town, hoping to be out of sight before the handful of seconds left on her elemental expire.
Your shopping trips completed, you gather together at Richard's family warehouse. You look quite resplendent in your new gear and expensive clothes (those of you who decided to upgrade your wardrobe) and ready for a banquet. Edward carries a cloth-wrapped bundle containing the human-bane greatsword, as you had a thought that Valla, in her studies, might know something of it.
Arriving at the Seventh Church, there are a pair of fancy coaches making their way into the cathedral's stable yard, their important passengers already haven disembarked. It seems that some of Absalom's elite will be in attendance tonight. A shame you just missed catching a glance at the House sigil's painted on the doors.
Inside, acolytes wait to escort you to the wardroom for your feast. The Cathedral has its usual severe appearance, but there are extra lamps in evidence, and some of the gilt seems to have been recently polished. The mood of the acolytes who escort you is cheerful and there are smiles all around. Iomedae is a tough and stern patron, but tonight the faithful are celebrating a great victory.
There are eleven individuals in the room who are obvious guests (in addition to yourselves), several of whom appear to have servants with them, and there are also Church footmen moving about serving drinks.
Genedair the Faithful is already seated at the head of the table, though that is clearly a matter of comfort for his aged bones, as the dinner bell has yet to ring. Standing next to him is a severe-looking woman in fine clothes, with several emblems of office about her neck.
Valla Timonae is there, talking the ear off a bespectacled elderly gentleman with a single tuft of white hair, who screams librarian so loudly it's a wonder you can't smell the musty books from across the room.
Four high-ranking clerics from the Church stand with a middle-aged man in military regalia who stands with a straight back, though his slight paunch speaks to a lack of recent service.
Sir Rollynd stands off by himself near a fireplace, nursing a drink and trying to avoid looking at anyone for too long. A group of younger folks (some in noble apparel and others in clerical garb) stand a little further off, intent on their own conversation and a pitcher of wine they have absconded for themselves.
Once you are all in, conversation stops and Genedair smiles warmly at you, gesturing you further in. "Please, come and make yourselves comfortable. All in this room are friends, and would wish to know you better."
Footmen come to offer you drinks.
Not recognizing much about any of the seemingly important people in the room, Ty grabs an offered goblet of wine, just his head back and eyebrows up in surprise at the better-than-expected quality, and casually makes his way over to the group of younger people. He approaches the group from a direction that allows them to see him coming so that he's not interrupting anyone by the time he gets there.
"Hey there," he offers once he reaches the group, waiting to see how he's received before speaking more. The encounter with the lordling and his hangers on from earlier in the day is still fresh in his mind, so he's cautious.
The younger folks stop their conversation as Ty approaches, some of them motioning to their friends to turn around and greet you.
As if thinking about the odious young lordling from earlier has summoned him before you, it is the same young man who turns to pay his respects. Shock fills his features and he goes as pale as a sheet as he recognizes you. He tries to speak, but unlike the street earlier that day, words escape his suddenly bone-dry mouth. He downs his wine goblet, mutters something that might be, ”Excuse me,” and tries to slip away in search of fresh wine.
Waving off the footman respectfully, Edward leans in toward the others and whispers, "Do you see the lady there?" he asks, motioning in her direction with his eyes. "She is High Councilor of Absalom. Her name escapes me though. And that gentleman that Lady Valla is speaking with? That scarf he wears bears the symbol of the Pathfinder Society although I would lean toward doubting he still works the field." He then scans the area and notices another recognizable face. "And that gentleman there is Nomarch Wynsal Starborn. Fortunately his name does not escape me. He is part of the Low Council of Azlanti Keep. His previous occupation was captain of the First Guard. Retired." Looking back to his companions, "We've a great deal of honored guests here tonight, my friends. Let us enjoy this splendid evening."
Noticing the warrior halfling off by himself, "Excuse me, all." He then takes his leave and makes his way over to the paladin. "Well if it isn't our good friend the valiant Sir Rollynd. You know, you are welcome with us at any time, my good man. No sense in hanging about here unless...," he shrugs, "you are cold," he tells him, glancing toward the fireplace and grinning wryly.
”You know, not many folks realize the skill that goes into a properly-laid fire.”
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Richard enters the room with a big smile upon his face, loving the extravagance displayed as well as the exclusive guest list. To Edward he replies
"Her name is Vylera Delann. She is quite the diplomat, my father is going to be quite jealous. He has been trying to get invited to one of these gatherings for years. He is hoping to expand our business and needs some help getting additional space in our ports. Vylera can be very persuasive and he wants to get her help in getting permission to build new docks. He hasn't been able to convince anyone to sell their slips or even lease space."
Wandering over to the group of clerics Richard introduces himself
"Good evening gentleman. I am Richard Wells, a new member of the church of Sarenrae. Quite a gathering we have here, don't you think? Congratulations on your retirement Captain Starborn. Thank you for your years of service. I have always felt safe in the city and am honored to be here with you tonight."
Nomarch Starborn extends a hand in greeting. ”The honour is mine, Mr. Wells. The church of Saranrae has done no small part in helping to keep the peace in our fair city over the years. Still, the gratitude of a citizen is always welcome and appreciated, so I thank you for your kind words. But don’t place too much importance on the appearance of a few old politicians. You and your friends are the heroes of this hour.”
Richard enters the room with a big smile upon his face, loving the extravagance displayed as well as the exclusive guest list. To Edward he replies
"Her name is Vylera Delann. She is quite the diplomat, my father is going to be quite jealous. He has been trying to get invited to one of these gatherings for years. He is hoping to expand our business and needs some help getting additional space in our ports. Vylera can be very persuasive and he wants to get her help in getting permission to build new docks. He hasn't been able to convince anyone to sell their slips or even lease space."
With a look of recognition coming over him, "Ah, that's right, Vylera Delann. Very good. Now I can sleep peacefully," he says with a grin.
”You know, not many folks realize the skill that goes into a properly-laid fire.”
Grinning, "I cannot dispute that, my good man! So," he switches the subject, "what do you suppose...," he stops, just now thinking he should probably speak to Valla before dinner is served. "Excuse me, Sir Rollynd, but there is a matter I need to attend to with Lady Valla about. It's actually about this bundle I currently possess which, you may remember, belonged to a certain warrior that had outlived his time and had refused to accept it. You are more than welcome to accompany me if you wish. Should be interesting."
Whether or not Rollynd accepts, Edward will take his leave and make his way toward Valla. Once he arrives, "Forgive me for interrupting, milady, but if I could steal but a moment of your time it would be most appreciated. I will await you over there near the others when you are able to spare a moment. Thank you." He gives a slight bow and makes his way back to the group.
If/when she arrives, he questions her about the sword. "Milady, this I hold in my hand is the weapon the undead king wielded against us. I don't suppose you could tell us anything about it, could you?"
”You know, you really don’t have to call me milady every chance you get, or, you know...at all. And I’d be happy to have a look.”
Valla unwraps the sword bundle. Sir Rollynd grimaces at seeing it again, and Nomarch Starborn makes his way over, drawn by the flash on lamplight off the steel.
”That is a fine blade. Very fine, indeed. May I?” Assuming you don’t object, he picks up the blade and holds it with an expert hand. He smiles in appreciation at the balance, but after a moment, his grin twists with distaste, and he returns the sword. ”Maybe age has finally addled my wits, but I could swear that sword hates me. I could almost sense it wanting to harm me for some reason.”
Valla points to etchings in the metal of the blade. ”These are distinctive. I could almost believe I’ve seen their like before, in a drawing, or a book...” She trails off in thought, then snatches a footman to send to her room on an errand.
As if thinking about the odious young lordling from earlier has summoned him before you, it is the same young man who turns to pay his respects. Shock fills his features and he goes as pale as a sheet as he recognizes you. He tries to speak, but unlike the street earlier that day, words escape his suddenly bone-dry mouth. He downs his wine goblet, mutters something that might be, ”Excuse me,” and tries to slip away in search of fresh wine.
Ty's face lights up in pure, unadulterated delight.
"Whoa whoa whoa whoa WHOA!" he loudly starts off, deliberately making a scene as he steps in front of the man, trying to block his egress. "You look awfully familiar. Do I know you? Have we met? I feel like we have... Do you frequent the Pig's Paunch? No, that's not it. What about the Winking Cyclops? No? Oh! I know! Madame Lavender's! Eh? No? Well, darn it! Where have we met? Any ideas? I feel like it was recent. Really recent."
Morgana whistles as she takes in her surroundings, her hand absently going up to adjust the hat that she's not wearing, in favour of fancier clothes. She quickly realizes, and uses the motion to smooth her hair, while turning her mind to the task at hand, Mother always said that a social event like this was a series of little games of strategy, so let's play to win...
She carefully looks about, observing before speaking, but then nods at Edward and Richard's assessments, "It's certainly quite the mix of...interesting... individuals.... Let's keep sharp, they've probably all heard of what we've done, now, and likely have ideas of what they want us to do next..."
She smiles at the diminutive paladin near the fire and nods her head in greeting, even as her mind makes a comparison to Ferkol after her 'interesting' afternoon, and she chuckles and shakes her head, Ferkol wouldn't know honour or self-sacrifice unless he could attach a price in platinum... Her smile fades as she finishes the thought, ...which means he'd probably be able to defeat our noble companion before he even knew to draw his blade... She sighs, then turns her head to the left, stretching out her neck as one of the concentration exercises she'd learned before sliding on a somewhat bland -- but well-rehearsed -- half-smile, then motioning a footman for one of the offered drinks.
She follows Edward to Valla's side, then smiles as he speaks to her, "I'd be more than happy to try to keep your companions entertained in your absence, Lady, if it helps. Or, rather, take advantage of your absence to hear whatever interesting bits of news or lore that a high-ranking Pathfinder might have to share."
The old man smiles in a warm, grandfatherly way, as Morgana is introduced to him. ”I am to exchange the company of one beautiful woman for that of another. I shall do my best to ensure the hardship. My name is Kreighton Shaine, Dean of Lore with the Pathfinder Society. Once upon a time I taught at an academy here in the city and had the good fortune to meet Valla in my class. Have you ever had formal studies, my dear?”
Conversation among the others (except the aged Pathfinder) comes to a halt at Ty’s raised voice. The lordling, realizing he isn’t getting away without physically shoving one of the guests of honour, grimaces and faces down the young rogue.
”Look. Obviously, I had had a bit too much to drink and said some things I clearly didn’t mean, and I had no idea that— that I was making a fool of myself. Obviously, I regret my earlier action.”
”Regret what, my son?” the cool imperious voice of the High Councillor asks from behind you. The woman is quite impressive in her self-assurance, and the lordling wilts even further.
”Nothing to concern yourself with, mother. I encountered these fine folks earlier in the street, and through a minor misunderstanding, an altercation ensued that the City Watch was able to quickly smooth over.”
The woman looks unimpressed. ”I see. I believe you told me earlier that a gang of tieflings accosted you in the street. I was about to have half the First Guard tasked with scouring the city to find these ruffians, only to find that they are the heroes of our order. Or were you accosted twice today?”
”No, mother,” the lordling mumbles.
”Well, we shall speak of this no further...for now. Why don’t you go find yourself some wine and try to stay out of trouble. You’re at least good at one of those two things.”
The High Councillor’s son nods agreement and slips off to the far end of the room. Nobody seems to stare at him, but so obviously do not look at him, they might as well be pointing and gawking. Ty sees the young man shoot him glances filled with fury and hate.
”I offer my sincerest apologies, Sir Ty,” she continues in a low voice, ”at the inconvenience my son and his no-good louts of friends seems to have inflicted upon your person and that of your companions. He has been a handful ever since his father died five years ago. I’m afraid I’m at quite a loss.”
Ty tries to casually dismiss the incident with an appreciative raise of his goblet and incline of his head.
"Aah, as much as I hate to side with the po-po, the City Watch handled the situation pretty well. Nobody got hurt. My big concern is how many people feel the same way as your son, that Masoumi wants everyone not a human exiled or worse."