Eris looks in the direction of the cluster of talkers when she's called to. It's easy to figure who addressed her since there's only one woman in the group.
She smiles back, because that is what is done in such cases, and replies "My name is Eris. Hello, nice to meet you."
Eris stands and starts walking toward the group, leaving her now empty plate behind.
"I suppose I am part of the same group as you? I was just hired."
She pulls out a chair at the edge of the group and sits. Up close she looks younger and shabbier than before. She has hazel eyes, and a few scattered freckles that haven't quite yet disappeared with maturity. It would be hard to imagine her to be out of her teens, or much beyond about twenty. Eris is no great beauty in the standard sense, but few would argue that she isn't cute in her own way.
The dark earth tones and black of her clothing do a good job of hiding the several places where they have been mended or patched. The repairs are well executed.
Other than what she's already said, Eris doesn't speak, she just listens in.
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Surprised at Kendryl's response Jorrast almost misses the question. "Actually I knew a Tengu family while I grew up. I can't say that they're common in Tian Xia, but they are well known enough that I felt it worth my time to learn their language. It's just one of several that I know."
Quince smiles as the fox-headed man enters. "Perch? Not sure. Its good. Please take as you like." He looks over the papers before him, "I have ordered some maps, Jorast we can talk through your journey. First hand knowledge of such places would be valuable to our institutions of learning."
"I'd be glad to for anyone interested, as long as we aren't actually walking the many miles again. That would make my.... paws tired!"
When he replies and shows his racial heritage Jorrast shakes his head and grins. "And I didn't meet any on my travels here. But back in my original home city I could introduce you to at least a hundred, slightly more than a dozen from my own family of course!"
She smiles back, because that is what is done in such cases, and relies "My name is Eris. Hello, nice to meet you."
"Why! Hello, Eris. It is nice to meet you. I'm Xandarian Quartermain, and this.." the blue-haired man nodded to the brown hare resting in the medium bowl, covered in vegetation and wine, "..is Boffy."
Xandarian finished the last crumbs of perch on his plate, then pushed it aside.
A portly tiefling slips quietly into the room and meanders through the crowd stopping first at Quince.
"My thanks, Lord Medvyed or your assistance at Varnhold. My sword is forever yours." Jacques clasps Quince's hands and kisses them in fealty before moving over towards Kendryl.
"My thanks to you as well, Master Kendryl, for your aid. I will never forget and look to repay you at every possible moment." Similar to Quince, Jacques clasps Kendryl's hands briefly before moving on.
After submitting his dinner request, Jacques finds a seat.
"Jacques Boullinger, at your service," he says with a flourish as he pulls out his chair next to Eris. Having arrived just in time to hear the hare's name, he reaches over and pats Boffy's head gently and speaks solemnly. "And of course, we are honored to have such an esteemed guess with us on such a momentous occasion."
"We have dire news from Tazlford."
Zsófia perks up excitedly when the Lord Commander begins speaking. She had been reluctant to interrupt his musings before, but now that he has opened up she seems enthusiastic to discuss the business. "Tazlford, that is in the Northern Narlmarches, yes? A new village near the shallows of the Skunk River?" Though she phrases it as a question, she seems remarkably confident about her assertions. "Why strike there? What sort of strategic value does it have? I suppose it could be the only village between Elkheart and the Slough, perhaps. And the ability for the invading force to cross the Skunk easily might factor in, I can see. In any case, I imagine that this is one of the good reasons for which you have recruited us. Do you mean to have us set up defenses in or near Tazlford? Or do you perhaps wish to mount an offensive, having us strike out into the swamps looking for the enemy before they are fully prepared to attack? Or something else, maybe?"
"But those who rise in rank of the Wardens make the Council and it is the Council that chose me as Lord Commander."
Zsófia nods slowly. "Thank you for explaining, milord. Your title, then, is an honorary one, from Greenwatch? Forgive me, but I thought I had read somewhere that you were styled a baron-- or is it duke? I have seen differing accounts. I had assumed that it must have referred to Medvyed lands you still held in Issia."
Title? I got the surename Lyranus because I beat up a Hellknight over it in a duel. I was a bit drunk at that time, but apparently I won.
The merc seems to be quite merry about thing.
Eh nobility? He looks at the noble newcomers. I never quite got why being born to someone is a basis for being a leader, but it seems to work for some societies. I guess its a tradeoff? Meritocracies tend to have more able rulers, but these typically wreck more things as they rise on the hierarchy resulting in a "non monarchy polity" having more civil wars?
Whereas a monarchy can have fairly peaceful transfers of power in theory? In the hold of Belkzen, its a series of duels, propaganda spreading and coaltion building once the previous chieftain dies. The chieftain has to be acclaimed by a majority of all tribal members capable of bearing arms in combat. It can be the son or daughter of the previous tribal chief, but its not the norm.
Vandomir takes the lack of live ducks in stride, and makes no further requests for them.
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Vandomir will reach out to take Kendryl's hand and arm. "Ahh, a fellow aeronaut! A pleasure to meet you. While my own Rocinian is, as yet, slightly undersized for carrying me in flight, I have had a number of training flights on more mature hippogriffs in the past, and am quite in love with flight. I look forward to the day Rocinian is strong enough for the endeavor."
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"I'd be glad to for anyone interested, as long as we aren't actually walking the many miles again. That would make my.... paws tired!"
Vandomir smiles back at Jorrast, raising his cup in a mock toast, and takes a sip.
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Hearing Zsófia discussing the geography and history of Tatzlford, Vandomir turns to her. "You seem to know quite a bit about the place. Your question of strategic value is a valid one, however there could be other reasons that someone would march on the place. I wonder does the area have any valuable resources? Minerals? Metals? Antiquities from earlier cultures have even been fought over in wars before. Even abundant sources of food or water can be a cause for war and conquest." He looks about, and seeing no likely candidates, he asks to the room at large, "I don't suppose anyone has a map of Tatzlford and its surroundings, to include this Hooktongue Slough? In any event, we've signed on, and if the Greenwich Wardens send us against these invaders, then may Erastil bless our endeavors!"
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If I understand things correctly, we are to organise/led or marshall defenses of Tatzlford against an invading army of unknown size and composition. The bloodrager switches to being all business in an instant.
I think our first tasks are to establish what we actually have, assess the adversary, exploit its weakpoints, likely fissures within their coalition, and use a combination of leadership assainations, generalized violence, coercion, bribery, propagana and local overmatch on account of Maskirovka and superior mobility to destroy the hostile coalition, in a way that limits damage to the community hiring us for protection?
He continues
Bandits and Hobgoblins? Hobgoblins have a constant chip on their shoulder, resulting in highly racist behaviour and an overreliance on hierarchy and authority. Their middle managment equivalents are frequently their weak links, even if the individual hobgoblin can be a formidable brave and disciplined adversary. Their top leaders are typcially also competent, but their hierarchic focus frequently results in yes-goblins occupying intermediate positions, and such toadies are easy targets.
I also doubt that the Bandits will be all that font of being under the hobgoblins whips, this could be used to seperate the adversary and then to defeat or coopt their subdivisions in detail.
I got a wand of silent image, its a good way to make a map with moving parts, but I dont actually know the geogrpahy.
Oh, since we have air support, exactly how much can they lift and fly with? And does anyone have bags of holding or such?
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"Markus, I find much of what you just said interesting, and some of it in a disturbing fashion." He holds up his hand and starts counting out points on his fingers, "one, that it sounds as if you think we are somehow 'in charge' of this effort. We are but newly hired mercenaries, me as simply a 70 gold per month hireling. I am a soldier, not a general here. Two, that you pronounce the enemy to be hobgoblins, when nothing of the sort was stated, or implied, in the message as read. Perhaps you have knowledge of the situation that you have not shared. Three, and I love this one. You state that hobgoblins are inherently racist, and then you proceed to cite numerous racist tropes about their existence, and even using such demeaning terms as "toadies" when describing their hierarchies. Four, the assumption of 'air support.' I believe Kendryl may qualify, but one man cannot be considered full-on 'air support.'" He holds up his thumb as number five, and says, "hmmm, no, I only have the four points," and he puts his thumb back down.
"Jacques Boullinger, at your service," he says with a flourish as he pulls out his chair next to Eris. Having arrived just in time to hear the hare's name, he reaches over and pats Boffy's head gently and speaks solemnly. "And of course, we are honored to have such an esteemed guess with us on such a momentous occasion."
Boffy looks slightly annoyed at the tiefling, but lets it go as the maid brings the other glasses of wine.
"Nice to meet you, Jacques", the blue-haired man smiled.| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Slipping into the dining hall a bit late, Tyrrana blinked a bit at seeing all the other mercs already in the thick of eating and drinking. It was frankly a bit disheartening that she had missed the start of everything. Due to being late. Again. Even still, she got over it pretty quickly when she saw they had the best food imaginable. She saw turkey. She needed turkey. So she bolted towards the table, grabbing the first chair she could find. In the general area around Eris, Xanderain, and Jacques.
Sitting down, she'd practically grab the nearest waiter. "Turkey. I'd like Turkey, please." With that, the most important of tasks completed, she'd turn to the other adventurers around her. Tiefling male, shorter than herself with light chainmail, looked very spry. Human woman, light chainmail, looked very basic. Human male, maybe, heavier chainmail, with a live bunny. Colorful cast.
"Hello! I'm Tyrrana, wanderer, mercenary, stargazer, turkey lover! If you need a star knife thrown at something, I'm your girl! If you need magic, better ask someone else. If you need a song sung, I can do it, but don't expect anything great." The catfolk leaned far back in her chair, giving them all a wry smile and a salute. One of her ears twitched as her hand passed close to it.
Vandomir welcomes the feline newcomer, "Tyrrana is it? Call me Vandomir. According to Markus over there, it will be hobgoblins that need to be thrown at. So tell me your story?"
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Look, "toadies" in middle managment are a feature of every single military hierarchy that has such positions, which is basically everyone but the Qlippoths and the black tapestry stuff.
Concerning Tatzlford, it has what, 400-500ish people? Lets say it can mobilize one in 15. Thats about 26-30 people? My own tribe had 500 people, we could marshall about 50ish, and we are orc, half orcs, various thieflings and mostly Gorrumites, meaning we are capable of mobilizing larger part of our population because our society is build around fighting, and sees fighting as the way to get ahead in society, and the more orcish parts are quicker to mature physically, resulting in a lesser noncombatant population.
The half orc does some math.
So, there will be a militia. Of likely less then 40 people. It will be lead by some people who know what they are doing, but the majority will have limited military training and irregular equipment. Which means that this table probably has more firepower then the aggregate of Tatzlfords armed forces, barring them receiving additional support from neighbouring polities.
He looks at the Chelaxian.
I could of course be hilariously wrong, as I have somehow misheard hooktounge as hobgoblin, and I am a habitual drunk who is opportunistically, at best, attached to reality, and I have made some hilarious bad live choices, but war is war, most of the time.
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Eris tries to listen to the various conversations for a while, but it's just so predictable and dreary. New people together so they immediately begin to preen and jockey for position, forming their little social hierarchies by out-impressing each other through relating in quips or stories what they perceive to be their own finest bits and bobs of social or cultural capital.
It doesn't seem to her she is free to leave, so Eris settles in to other ways to occupy herself. She studies the woodgrain of the table to identify the type of tree used to make it. She orders a second drink and sips it slowly, trying to pull apart the flavors of each ingredient. She thinks back to the closest location to Greenwatch she has visited, and speculates on how representative it might be to her new destination based in direction, distance, and terrain.
At two points Eris does raise her hand to ask a question. When the contents of the letter from Mayor Loy Rezbin are disclosed she asks "the mayor seems to harbor some doubt about the woman's claims. Has the presence of this army been verified independently, by direct sightings of it by reliable sources, or perhaps through scrying?"
"If so, is anything known about its disposition? Is it massed together in one place like a grand army? Dispersed over the area in smaller groupings? Is it stationary or in camp, or on the move?"
When uniforms are mentioned she asks "Can we just wear our own clothes instead?"
”Goodness man! You seem to know more than a Pathfinder on a right many topics! I surrender.”
Hearing Zsófia discussing the geography and history of Tatzlford, Vandomir turns to her. "You seem to know quite a bit about the place. Your question of strategic value is a valid one, however there could be other reasons that someone would march on the place. I wonder does the area have any valuable resources? Minerals? Metals? Antiquities from earlier cultures have even been fought over in wars before. Even abundant sources of food or water can be a cause for war and conquest." He looks about, and seeing no likely candidates, he asks to the room at large, "I don't suppose anyone has a map of Tatzlford and its surroundings, to include this Hooktongue Slough? In any event, we've signed on, and if the Greenwich Wardens send us against these invaders, then may Erastil bless our endeavors!"
"It could also be targeted as a way of indirectly striking at Elkheart. Strike at allies and if the response is insufficient other allies may be lost."
Jorrast greets Tyrrana with a raised wine glass. "Greetings Tyrrana. Call me Jor, or anything other than late for dinner...." He takes a sip of the wine at his little joke and continues, "They have a really excellent perch by the way. Maybe try it as a side with your turkey?"
Jorraste nods to Eris's comment about uniforms. "Unless we are going to be in a parade I don't see much use for formal uniforms. However, some sort of markings to identify us as part of the brigade do make sense. Otherwise how will our allies know not to attack us? And how will our enemies know who is killing them!"
The woman who enters late, is quite noticeable, despite quietly making her way to the least occupied table she can find. Taller than most men, her default stern expression adds to her imposing presence, full figured, though clearly also bearing substantial muscle on her frame, she moves through the room like a titan among smaller folk, though with the grace of one accustomed to their own space.
Clad in a light breastplate with other bits of armor along her arms and upper torso, her garb is otherwise simple, what amounts to somewhere between a loose skirt and loincloth, heavy boots and the assorted trappings common to barbarian outlanders and tribesmen in the far-fling wilds, or mountain crags.
Dark eyes dart around the room, taking in bits of conversation and banter as she takes a seat, setting down an impressive greataxe beside her, as she turns to listen to the person she assumed they were all here to serve give news of the reason for them all being gathered.
After all, if her services were needed, battle couldn't be far away.
"You seem to know quite a bit about the place."
Zsófia gives Vandomir a look that is both sly and grateful. "Let's just say I have a vested interest in the region," she murmurs. "Our new friends in Greenwatch are not exactly crying information on their holdings in New Stetven for all to hear, but I have friends in the palace and I was able to get a look at what I hope was a relatively recent map before I came to this recruitment." She peers again at the one on the table before Quince and frowns. "I do think I was misled on some of the details, however."
She waves to everyone as they enter. Each time names are given she musters up charm and enthusiasm, exchanging pleasantries and providing her own as well. "Zsófia. Or Lady Zsófia. Or even Prima Zsófia if you like baiting the Swordlords," she grins.
"Likewise," Jacques responds, lifting his glass in salute to Xandarian. "I may have missed this fine fellow's full introduction, but you must let me know where you found such a strong specimen of rabbit-kind."
As Eris presents her questions, Jacques sips his wine and responds thoughtfully. "My contacts are at this time pursuing further evidence to substantiate such claims, though they have not had any such good fortune at this time."
As the discussion turns to uniforms, Jacques offers his own opinion. "Uniforms have their place, and I prefer that place be the closet. Personally, most of my work is done without such clothing, and my opinion and comfort lies with the clothes that I wear on a day to day, or rather, night to night basis as the case may be."
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"Hello! I'm Tyrrana, wanderer, mercenary, stargazer, turkey lover! If you need a star knife thrown at something, I'm your girl! If you need magic, better ask someone else. If you need a song sung, I can do it, but don't expect anything great." The catfolk leaned far back in her chair, giving them all a wry smile and a salute. One of her ears twitched as her hand passed close to it.
"Well, hello Tyrrana. Nice to meet you, I'm Xandarian, or call me Xan. The furry little guy in the bowl is Boffy. And my companion", the blue-haired man said as he got up to grab something from his bag.
Dark eyes dart around the room, taking in bits of conversation and banter as she takes a seat, setting down an impressive greataxe beside her, as she turns to listen to the person she assumed they were all here to serve give news of the reason for them all being gathered.
The blue-haired man gives the amazon a respectful nod as he sits back down with a masterwork mandolin, engraved with tankards and ale motifs.
"Likewise," Jacques responds, lifting his glass in salute to Xandarian. "I may have missed this fine fellow's full introduction, but you must let me know where you found such a strong specimen of rabbit-kind."
"Elysium", Xandarian states. "Hope nobody minds, but I like to play as I digest from a delicious meal." the paladin begins to play a lovely melody.
Vandomir takes the lack of live ducks in stride, and makes no further requests for them.
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Vandomir will reach out to take Kendryl's hand and arm. "Ahh, a fellow aeronaut! A pleasure to meet you. While my own Rocinian is, as yet, slightly undersized for carrying me in flight, I have had a number of training flights on more mature hippogriffs in the past, and am quite in love with flight. I look forward to the day Rocinian is strong enough for the endeavor."
"Well met Vandomir, friend of the sky! Perchance I could give you a set of Wings; you & your trainee could fly separately for the time being, and join us in the Air Corps!"
"I have already been assigned to the Mercenary Brigade, and it would be inappropriate to request a transfer with not even half a day in the Brigade I should think."
"I have already been assigned to the Mercenary Brigade, and it would be inappropriate to request a transfer with not even half a day in the Brigade I should think."
"Ah ... thank goodness the request would be mine. I do hope you will consider it."
"I'm a hippogriff rider. Once she can carry me, I would be pleased to join you."
At two points Eris does raise her hand to ask a question. When the contents of the letter from Mayor Loy Rezbin are disclosed she asks "the mayor seems to harbor some doubt about the woman's claims. Has the presence of this army been verified independently, by direct sightings of it by reliable sources, or perhaps through scrying?"
"If so, is anything known about its disposition? Is it massed together in one place like a grand army? Dispersed over the area in smaller groupings? Is it stationary or in camp, or on the move?"
When uniforms are mentioned she asks "Can we just wear our own clothes instead?"
At this mention of the coming army the main doors fly open with a burst of wind, then close just as abruptly then the large chair at the other end moves back and Bearik seems to just appear sitting down in it.
"Some preliminary scouting has been made though your group will be the ones to verify it. It is dispersed over the area in smaller groupings and on the move. A group of mercenaries, barbarians, and trolls are marching toward Tatzlford and are expected to arrive within three or four days. Some distractions have been put in place to delay them."
"Uniforms are not mandatory just an offering for joining service."
Mercs? Any exactly known groups? Also, if there are mercs, then someone is hiring and paying them. Especially if they are allied with trolls. He pauses
Like, I cant say that taking over a settlement by force, collecting protection money, I mean taxes, and essentially becoming nobles that way, never occured to me, but if I would be also bringing trolls then that probably isnt the plan hmmm.
We should get going quickly though, a good way to win a fight is to be where it happens firstest, and with the mostest swords!
Jorrast finishes his wine and sets the glass on the table. "I always say quality over quantity. The enemy will likely have 'the mostest swords'. But ours will cut through them like a scythe through grain.!"
"How long does it take to get to Tatzlford and who will be with us so they know we are there to help? Or how will we identify ourselves?"
Ulricha returns the nod of acknowledgement, as she listens to the exchanges, gathering the situation as she pick up the tankard of ale set down before her.
She snagged the nearest glass of... whatever drink was on the table. Managing to get a few responses to her greeting, she raised the cup towards the three who spoke to her: another human and a kitsune who were further away, as well as the closer human with the rabbit. First, Xan. "Xan and Boffy! Excellent names for an excellent pair. A pleasure to meet you! Hope to hear a better song from you than me."
Then to Jor, giving the only other... beastly figure a cheeky smile. "As long as you don't call me late for dinner, then Jor is Jor! I'll definitely take your advice. Turkey with a side of perch sounds great."
Finally, Vandomir. Taking a swig from her mug of... she still wasn't sure. She'd wipe her mouth clear on the back of her hand, then respond. "Hobgoblin army? Sheesh, if you've got that coming your way, I can see why you've hired so many people. Story-wise, wandered up here from Garund, been all over Avistan, and seen a lot. Even fought some Hobglins in Isger once actually..."
Shrugging, she turned her attention back towards the discussion of the oncoming army. She winced a bit at the mention of trolls. Those were going to be a problem. "That... sounds dangerous. Trolls in an army. Hard enough to fight a troll by itself, if you're not some sorcerer who can cook it alive. In an army, with extra fodder? That'll be a nightmare. I'm good for fighting the rest of it though! Also, I'll take a uniform, assuming it looks good."
Xandarian stops his performance to drink his wine. "If I can get away with just a badge or something similar, I'll be fine."
"So? Mercenaries, barbarians, and trolls, eh? When do we leave?"
As Markus looks at Tyranna his eyes turn pitch black for a moment, and look directly at her knees and hands and his eyes become normal again.
He looks away a bit sheepishly.
A badge and a written contract sound great yes. He says to Bearik.
Never fought trolls, I can sperg on how to fight Schirs, Abrikandidus, Ghouls, gargoyles and the like, but Trolls? Is there anyone with first hand experience
He points to a sizeable but healed burn wound on his left arm.
That was not from a wizard, or a Brimorak, or some fiery elemental thing, nor was it from an incident when making hotdogs. Not, it was a ghoul with a wand of fireball. Getting fireballed wasnt on my list of stuff I expect to happen when fighting ghouls, and it did quite a number on our tight packed formation.
"Trolls eh? So, what we need is a few fake bridges, and some fire wizards, right? The trolls will all sneak under the bridges to nap, and the wizards can just blast them out of there." Vandomir smiles at his own wit.
"Seriously though, best we pick the spot of the battle, and not them. Thoughts?"
"I shall go and be fitted for a proper uniform."
"Seriously though, best we pick the spot of the battle, and not them. Thoughts?"
"You bet, Vandomir. Reconnaissance is always preferred", Xandarian nods, drinking deeply from his glass.
Zsófia wrinkles her nose and scowls at the suggestion that they all wear uniforms, but takes a deep drink of wine instead of speaking.
"Uniforms are not mandatory just an offering for joining service."
Zsófia nods, and seems to quietly congratulate herself for not making a fuss about it. She nods to Xandarian with an expression of satisfaction. "Badges it is then," she agrees.
Zsófia nods, and seems to quietly congratulate herself for not making a fuss about it. She nods to Xandarian with an expression of satisfaction. "Badges it is then," she agrees.
Xandarian stupidly smiled back at swashbuckling noble.
Jorrast finishes his wine and sets the glass on the table. "I always say quality over quantity. The enemy will likely have 'the mostest swords'. But ours will cut through them like a scythe through grain.!"
"How long does it take to get to Tatzlford and who will be with us so they know we are there to help? Or how will we identify ourselves?"
He sits up a bit straighter which doesn't seem possible but he does. He nods with agreement, "Ours will cut through them like a scythe through grain! With our transport system you could easily be in Tazylford within the hour. Also any outpost or town of our fair kingdom. Quince will be leading the brigade until a suitable leader arises. Jorne his Sworn Protector will be there as well."
She snagged the nearest glass of... whatever drink was on the table.
Most likely red or white wine.
He sits up a bit straighter which doesn't seem possible but he does. He nods with agreement, "Ours will cut through them like a scythe through grain! With our transport system you could easily be in Tazylford within the hour. Also any outpost or town of our fair kingdom. Quince will be leading the brigade until a suitable leader arises. Jorne his Sworn Protector will be there as well."
"Transport system?" Xandarian asks. "Like magic? Would we be able to bring my horse?"
Boffy has jumped into the tall wine glass, spilling himself and the contents on the table. The hare is cleaning up the spill and himself.
Quince who had been chatting looks up at Bearik's comment. He listens and nods a long with Xan asks Quince chimes in, "In deed. We have a portal system to Tazlford, Fort Promise, Varnhold, and our embassy in Restov. Your horse, Vandomir's hippogrif, indeed if any need horses or riding elk they will be provided."
A disembodied smooth as silk masculine voice comes from the side, "Quince and I have fought trolls before we slew a dozen of them in their lair and then the spattering of trolls at the incursion about a year ago. I hope it won't be a yearly event! Wait Kendryl do you think the green poison lady will be back or will it be the frost elf?"
He looks at those assembled and asks, "Shall we then? Those who would like uniforms come with me. I will collect the badges once you decide on a form for it." Bearik leads the few who want uniforms out of the dining hall and down stairs. You see guards stationed every 30 feet. At the base of the stairs you see three doorways. To the right and left are standard seven foot doors but the ones before you are at least 30 feet tall and 40 feet wide. As he makes a few arcane sigils in the air before him the doors unlock and open.
Beyond in the next room is a 60 foot obelisk that appears black like obsidian except for some swirling colors. Bearik leads you down and touches the obelisk with the back of his hand. "Just touch the obelisk after me and you will be sent to Elkheart." He then says Elkheart and touches the obelisk with his palm. He vanishes from sight. The guards around the room seem ready but don't leave their stations.
The disembodied voice nearly commands but its smoother more like an abrupt suggestion, "If you need to go collect anything you left behind, including cohorts, animal companions, and mounts do so. Quince can take those that are ready to Tazylford and I will make sure that the rest of you make it as well."
Then he appears rubbing one of his rings the tall lean looking human with stark black hair walks by the group. Stopping at the door to leave waiting for everyone to empty out of the dinning hall. His sharp sapphire blue eyes seem intelligent and calculating. He has a rugged charm to him and his tan skin seems to glow. He carries a flaming longsword that seems to burn through the sheath, a thin almost frail warhammer and a knife on his belt. Upon his back is a halberd and a bow with a quiver. He wears the iconic green cloak of Greenwatch which rippled behind him as he moved. His feet are shod in fine blue cloth boots.
Zsófia gathers herself with aplomb and makes a point of bowing slightly to the servers in thanks before collecting her multicolored cloak and cap off the back of her chair. She heeds the instructions for using the transporter, following Quince to Tazlford. When it is time she takes a deep breath and steps forward, placing her hand softly on the smooth side of the obelisk. "Farewell for now, Restov," she mutters as she disappears, "but by Shelyn I pledge that I will visit you again, no matter what may happen."
For those who follow Bearik to Elkheart, you see that the guards are at ease as Bearik waits with a tapping foot. Once you are all gathered he leads you up a very long staircase through many checkpoints covered by suits of armor instead of guards. It had to be about 500 feet deep as you emerge into a hall with waiting seamstresses and tailors. They quickly take your measurements and then each of you are ushered into a side parlor room. Meanwhile a scholar or wizard asks a few questions, "Why do you wear armor, if your clothing were enhanced with mage armor would you be interested in using it? Do you have any magic items that are giving you " Within minutes a maid or butler comes into your private parlor and lays your new uniform on the couch. Before leaving they ask, "Would you like to have some help?"
The disembodied voice nearly commands but its smoother more like an abrupt suggestion, "If you need to go collect anything you left behind, including cohorts, animal companions, and mounts do so. Quince can take those that are ready to Tazylford and I will make sure that the rest of you make it as well."
Both Xandarian and Boffy drink as much as they can before jogging out of the dinning room to head to the stables; Xandarian winking at the maids on his way out. The paladin and hare take the reins of a gray haired horse. "Come on, Tammi. Let's hope the transportation doesn't freak you out so much," the aasimar mumbles as the walk away from the stables.
The talk of...uniforms seems pointless. Wearing something to identify a unit in battle made sense, but Ulricha had no desire to dress like the other colorful finger wagglers or wear heavy armor like the other warriors here.
Her hand instinctively reaches for a weapon as a voice sounds from thin air, though she holds her response when she sees that it is no threat.
Magic. Of course
She would have to get used to things like this, joining a mercenary group of all types. Following as everyone exits the dining hall, and carrying her weapons and gear, she stands with those already prepared for the journey to Tazylford, looking around to those waiting with her, the tension hanging in the air.
After retrieving Rocinian, Vandomir was a bit wary of the portal, but he figured if everyone else was going, he should as well. He was quite pleased, and accustomed to the measuring and fitting process for uniforms.
"Is it possible to get a similarly colored caparison for Rocinian? One that won't interfere with her wings and such?"
Last to arrive, momentarily before the gathered crowd moves on, is a human. A colorful appearance, given there are several locks of hair dyed in different colors each. Each a bit with a gleam. Purple, blue, orange, akin to colors of stars and the skies at night.
Where some would have freckles, she sports a dotted pattern of various colors across her face, which goes down her neck as well.
An odd patterned songbird sits perched on her shoulder. Its feathers more resemble a chart of stars. Given the bird's looks, perhaps it is tied to the newcomer's own unusual appearance.
"Good day, everyone. I'm Alice.
Explorer, sketcher of portraits and landscapes, and i can patch you up if all magical healing fails. Plus kind of a multi tool when it comes to magics."
"So, whom do i have the pleasure to travel with?"
Her attitude is optimistic, and pretty care free at the moment.
"Good day, everyone. I'm Alice.
Explorer, sketcher of portraits and landscapes, and i can patch you up if all magical healing fails. Plus kind of a multi tool when it comes to magics.""So, whom do i have the pleasure to travel with?"
Her attitude is optimistic, and pretty care free at the moment.
As the duo leave to grab Tammi, a colorful looking woman with dyed hair and a headband walks in to introduce herself.
"Well, hello, fey child!" The blue-haired man smiles. "I'm Xandarian. The brown hare is Boffy. We're off to save a town from mercenaries and barbarians. Follow us!!"