Records of the Caia Outfit

Game Master NotEspi

In the aftermath of the Grand Campaign in 4603 AR, a large part of the Taldan armies were officially disbanded. Many able soldiers found themselves banding together and forming mercenary groups under their former commanders. One such commander was Epida Caia. Being the commander of an auxiliary company posted in the Dalain Garrison, Caia saw many battle-hardened warriors pass through the port to find their riches in other lands. Being familiar with many merchants stopping in the fort to either trade or resupply, Caia devised a plan. A sly negotiator, Caia argued that a large number of ships turned to piracy after the war, and merchants would need extra muscle onboard their ships to protect themselves from such skilled crews. The soldiers leaving the battlefields of the Grand Campaign would provide that protection, and she would take care of the logistics and business side of things. Originally, she would simply negotiate the deal with the soldiers moving through the port, but with the manpower dwindling over time, she would offer a more permanent contract to some and establish other garrisons in a few ports of the Inner Sea, laying foundations to what would eventually become the mercenary company known as the Caia Outfit.

After establishing a triangular network of garrisons in Taldor, Osirion, and Andoran, the guild coffers bloomed, eventually funding Caia's own fleet of vessels to offer further protection in the form of escort ships. Skilled foot soldiers, sailors, and even inexperienced recruits longing after adventure flocked to join the guild. To maintain the goodwill and status, a strict training regimen for the green recruits was established.

By 4629 AR, the guild transitioned from merchant ship protection detail to a prominent mercenary force offering their services from 6 garrisons (each housing approximately 300 soldiers) and a fleet of 54 fully crewed ships. The guild offers protection, training, small incursions, and even joined the front lines in a few major conflicts. If you need an experienced soldier of fortune in the Inner Sea and have the means, Caia's Outfit is probably your best bet. At any given time, each garrison trains roughly a dozen recruits to refill their ranks.

In 4712, shortly after the turning of the century, the leadership of the guild decided to expand into mainland Avistan, negotiating with the local authorities to purchase land and expand their network. To achieve this, large quantities of money are used to launch a recruiting campaign. Pamphlets are printed, celebrating the glorious life and deeds of the men and women of the Outfit. Posters appear, promising good pay and glory. Town criers are paid to direct the curious to the nearest recruiter.

In the following years, caravans and ships from all over the Inner Sea funnel the fresh recruits to the local garrisons. Here, their talents will be evaluated, and they will be trained in the ways of the Caia Outfit - effectively handling one’s weapon of choice, using the situation to one’s advantage, and even using magical talents to aid one’s comrades. It takes several years for a cadet to reach the minimum requirements, and that is when the true training starts - the real contracts. Fresh graduates are assigned to a garrison, where they start to participate in contracts under the supervision of experienced members.

4724 AR, Rusanne 4th

Beyond the broken clouds in the sky, Daughter is slowly pushing the Bridge beyond the visible horizon. Distant flashes of lightning warn of a storm to the south, but the barely audible rumble keeps everyone at ease. The cold night breeze is blowing into the sails, and the gentle rain peppers the deck of the Nimble Migrant.

The Nimble Migrant itself is a two-masted schooner built for speed, and the crew make sure it earns its name on this voyage. It is roughly 150 ft long stern to bow with a 25 ft beam. You have your bunks in a single large room in the below. Bunks being a strong word, however. Instead of beds, there are sets of stacked hammocks in four series. Each hammock has two blankets and a small pillow in it. Upon arriving, each of you received a key to a single chest in the very same room. This is your first night on the ship

This is the ship that transports you to your designated garrison after you have finished your basic training. Once all promising cadets were picked up in various ports, you are moving eastward, waiting for the light from Glory’s Flame to appear on the horizon. After that, it is a short trip south into Ovicus Bay. There waits Dalain Garrison - the promise of fortune and adventure for those bold enough to grab fate by the reigns. Perhaps, if adamant enough, to shape the fate of entire nations.

The ship, while relatively small, is in top shape. The idealistic attribute it to wealth and quality control of the guild. The sardonic, on the other hand, believe many would be dissuaded if their means of transport would be a half-rotten ghost of a once beautiful ship. Perhaps a little bit of both. The crewmembers, a mix of various ancestries, perform their work diligently and seem experienced sailors with many-a-voyages under their belts. They don’t talk much to the cadets but don’t evade a conversation if approached, assuming duties and time permits. The ship’s Captain, wheatish skinned man with a tricorne hat adorned by two long red feathers, welcomes all of you once you set sail. Traces of Vudrani accent are apparent, but nothing thick.

”Welcome aboard and on the next step to become full-fledged members of the Caia Outfit. My name is Agraj Bhar, I am the captain of this vessel - the Nimble Migrant. We should be docking in Ovicus Bay in two or three days, depending on the wind, but it seems we’re on track. If you have questions for the crew, please try to not disturb them when they are working. They are working to keep you safe and sound, and us on track. You were all given a key to your individual chests if you have any belongings you consider valuable. With that said, I assure you that my crew will not make any attempts to relieve you of them. Now…” he takes a few steps forward. ”Some ground rules.” he lifts up his hand and raises one after every sentence.

”Do not climb the rigging. Do not lean over the railing. Do not feed or pet the cat if you see it. Dinner is announced by two rings of the bell,” he points his hand towards the bell hanging on the foremast. ”you have an hour to eat after you hear the signal.”

He stops counting. ”Four simple rules. You finished basic training, so I assume you can keep up with that.”

He puts his hands behind his back again as he rocks forward and backward once. ”Questions? Now or never.”

Endoin listens to the welcome from the captain and the ground rules while also looking around curiously. He is a blue-grey Kobold of fairly typical size.

”Some ground rules. Do not climb the rigging. Do not lean over the railing. Do not feed or pet the cat if you see it. Dinner is announced by two rings of the bell. You have an hour to eat after you hear the signal."

"Is the cat what is for dinner?" Endoin asks. Then considers for another half second. "And are you really going to give us enough food that it might take more than an hour to eat it? That would be a lot."

Agraj tilts his head in mild confusion as he squints at Endoin. "Okay - we're changing one rule. so the new rules are as follows:"

He takes a breath.

"Do not climb the rigging. Do not lean over the railing. Do NOT INTERACT WITH THE CAT AT ALL. Dinner is available up to one hour after the bell rings twice, and all that."

"And to clarify: No, this is not an all-you-can-eat situation. However, the cook rations food to everyone. The cooked amount is calculated based on the number of people on board. But the kitchen will close after an hour, so you will not be able to get any."

As he says that, an older-looking, black and brown can with long fur appears near the rudder. It looks over you with indifference, and slowly starts moving towards the entrance to the lower deck.

Fey nods along quietly as Agraj lists the simple rules, her blue eyes darting to the various parts of the ship that she wasn't allowed to interact with. She, a relatively young-looking Aiuvarin woman, adjusted the robes that were whipping about her frame (an attempt to keep balance with the viol case strapped to her back), and shifted her weight to ask a question before a kobold spoke up first.

She raises her brows slightly at the questions about dinner, and when the cat appears, Fey stares closely at it. Why couldn't they interact with it? What if it interacted with one of them? Was it really a cat? She huffed with displeasure at her lack of knowledge.

"What do we do in the meantime, Captain?" She asks, her voice rather high-pitched, bordering on squeaky.

Tamhar, a greyish green Kolbold, looks from Endoin, to the Captain and then at Fey.

“My husband is hungry a lot, and is not all that picky on what he eats” Tamhar announces to no one in particular.

Fabian listened silently as the captain announced the rules, half-amused at how he needed to repeat them just to emphasize the fact that the cat was not to be touched or interacted with in any way.

"What's with the cat?"

“My husband is hungry a lot, and is not all that picky on what he eats”

"It comes from too long not being fed regularly. Cats aren't that bad to eat. A bit skimpy on meat though." Endoin grins up at the captain. "But no eating this cat. I can handle that."

A melody can be heard from above and those glancing up see a catfolk floating down from the rigging. He is dressed in muted shades of grey, a threadbare coat and vest worn over a simple, faded shirt. At closer inspection, it is clear the coat and vest were once fine, with subtle embroidery, but they now are well worn and patched in many places. A pair of worn, grey trousers with frayed cuffs fall to his equally worn boots. The only real touch of color is a tattered scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, its once-bright colors now dulled. A shabby, albeit once elegant, grey hat perches on his head, and it demonstrates a preternatural ability to stay in place.

Despite his worn appearance, he is strikingly handsome, even for a catfolk -- a race whose appearance is generally appreciated by outsiders. He plays a small accordion as he floats down (via some unclear means).

"I guess I'd best come down from the rigging then. Perhaps I can volunteer to do watch. I do like high places. And I agree with the Captain -- let's leave the cat alone."

Landing on the deck he bows deeply and removes his hat with a flourish, "I'm Remqaur, or your can call me Rem. I'm extremely pleased to make the acquaintance of each and every one of you, and most relieved to be done with my training and back in my old clothes -- at least for the moment. I do hope you'll all teach me your songs." He bows and separately makes eye contact with everyone in the group.

Bowing to Fey, he notices she has an instrument case on her back and he becomes noticeably enthused. "Another musician in our midst?! Is that a case for a viol? I would recognize the shape anywhere. How thrilling. I myself can also play the violin, although my instrument is quite battered. We must play together sometime. Of course, there are many duos for viol and violin. But a duo for viol and accordion... there are some intriguing possibilities there..."

Finally, he turns to Captain Bhar: "Your rules seem quite reasonable. I have three brief questions: First, is there a high perch that would agreeable for me to occupy? Second, do you have a favored style of music? And, third, what is the cat's name?"

Captain Bhar sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose for a brief moment. "No, no... This is my fault. Every time you folk come around I want to make it all nice for you and show you the ropes and whatnot, and everytime it's just a bunch of curious dolts who can't keep themselves entertained."

Regaining composure, he claps his hands together. "Right. First order of business - you." he points at Remqaur. "Stay off the rigging."

"Second..." he looks at the Kobolds with a stern face. "Dinner once a day. If you have your own rations, feel free to chow on them. Nothing else on the ship is to be eaten. Including, but not exclusively limited to ropes, gunpowder, tar, sails, other fabrics or..." he shudders "[/b]the crew. Especially the crew!"[/b]

Taking two steps closer to make sure he is understood, he leans forward to the kobolds. "That list includes the cat. If you try to eat any of those, I will make a nice necklace out of those scales of yours."

Bhra straightens up again and starts walking towards Fabian "I hope that is clear." he pauses. "What is with the cat? I understand that you do not have much experience on the seas, so I will try to sum this up for you."

He stops in front of Fabian "You see, there are these things called rats. Don't take me wrong, rats can be great pets, but these particular rats just love to do five things : chew through our supply barrels, live in our grain, eat our rations, crap in our kitchen, and breed. They love the life on the ship. But they are stowaways here. They don't contribute, they just live off of our hard work. Which brings us to the cat. It's just a cat. But it catches the squeaking bastards. And if you feed him, he will not be hungry and will not hunt anything." he takes a few steps towards Fey and Remqaur. "In conclusion - don't feed the cat."

His demeanor soften a bit as he continues. "He's also the ship's mascot, kind of, so if he would come to any harm, it's a bad omen. And besides..." he smiles as he watches the cat walk to the lower deck entrance. "He's cute as a button. I mean look at that tail sway. His name is Chauncey," the smile turns into a stern look again and he riases his voice, almost shouting "but we can't feed him!"

"What else is there? Hm..." he looks at the two bards. "Perch? Preferably stay on deck. The bow is the tallest point of that. If you go any higher, I'll tie a jolly boat to the ship and put you in it. And what's all this about my favourite style of music? My favourite sound is the sound of wood creaking as the hull breaks its way through the waves!" Bhar almost raises his fist in the air in excitement, but catches himself. Then he leans over for a whisper to both bards. "I do, and it's this legendary jalmeray musician called Benny Lava, so if you know him, something in that style once in a while would be nice."

He leans back again. "Bringing us all the way back to - your spare time. As I said, two or three days depending on weather. I suggest you enjoy the free time while you can. You won't have much time in Dalain. We've all been there." he gestures to the crew. "While you do that, try to not get in the way of the crew. But if you really feel like you want to contribute, you can scrub the deck, play a jig after dinner, or help in the kitchen. You can speak to Siebgard to volunteer."

As if on queue, a dwarven woman appears behind the Captain and walks towards your troupe. He continues - "Siebgard is our quartermaster. She takes care of the crew, and will also be your chaperone for the journey."

The right side of the dwarf shows signs of healing scars from the past, extending up to her eye, which is pale white. Her brown, graying, short, and curly hair is tied above her head with something similar to a bandana. "'lo." she greets all of you, waves at you to follow, and slowly walks past, following the cat down to the lower deck.

"With that said," Bhar continues "please direct your questions at her, and welcome aboard the Nimble Migrant. Buh-bai!"

Siebgard moves in silence, and slowly, allowing all of you to keep up. As you move through the dark interior, you notice the dwarf move to the side of the hall to move around Chauncey the cat. She chuckles but carries on. Moving past the same spot, you see Chauncey did not wait for the dinner bell and managed to catch a late lunch. He is currently dissecting the creature, paying no mind to the group.

It is not a long journey towards your room. It is, however, a quiet one. The only sound you register is the ever-present, repetitive creaking of wet wood. It seems this will become the permanent white noise throughout the course of your journey.

The quartermaster stops, opens a door, and quietly gestures for you to move inside. "Get yeselves comfortable. I'll come pick you up in a short while."

As I mentioned earlier, there are hammocks instead of beds. Four series in stacks of two. Each hammock has two blankets and a small pillow, and eight chests are in the room.

Remqaur appears momentarily crestfallen when the Captain denies him a high perch, but the emotion quickly fades. As the Captain discusses the Chauncey, Rem smiles and nods in agreement, and follows the cat with his eyes. Finally, when the Captain mentions admiring Benny Lava, Rem breaks into a wide grin and he starts to dance back and forth, moving his feet in a complex pattern, according to a melody in his head. But he abstains from making any comments to the Captain on the subject, as the Captain seems to have little tolerance left.

As the group gathers to follow Siebgard, Rem falls in next to Fey. "I think I know the style of music of Benny Lava! I grew up in the catfolk city of Murraseth -- perhaps you've heard of it? -- far to the South, near the city of Anuli, the largest in the coastal nation of Holomog, south of Geb. There is much trade between Anuli and Jalmeray -- certain spices from Anuli are prized ingredients in the cuisine in Jalmeray, which is not so far away. And, of course, when I encountered traders from Jalmeray I asked them to teach me some songs, and Benny Lava is one of the musicians they taught me about. He is legendary among those of that island, as the Captain said. I can teach you and we can play a duet for the Captain. Or maybe you already know Lava's music, I don't know where you are from..."

Rem will comment to Siebgard, "my accordion, or violin if you prefer, is at your disposal. I find that all work passes more pleasurably and efficiently when accompanied by music -- whether it be peeling potatoes or swabbing the deck."

Finally, upon reaching their quarters, Rem says, "This will be cozy. I assure you that I do not snore and make only mellifluous susurrations as I slumber. I hope no one minds if I take a top hammock." Rem moves over to one of the top hammocks, jumps on and lounges back with his arms behind his head, and starts swinging back and forth while singing a gentle melody in a purring voice.

Fey fidgets quietly with one of her sleeves while the Captain explains things further for them, her eyes wandering back to the cat--to Chauncey, rather. Her eyes narrow slightly, picking apart the Captain's phrasing. "So I can pet him, if he lets me..." She mutters quietly to herself before scurrying along behind the others to their quarters.

As the group gathers to follow Siebgard, Rem falls in next to Fey. "I think I know the style of music of Benny Lava! I grew up in the catfolk city of Murraseth -- perhaps you've heard of it? -- far to the South, near the city of Anuli, the largest in the coastal nation of Holomog, south of Geb. There is much trade between Anuli and Jalmeray -- certain spices from Anuli are prized ingredients in the cuisine in Jalmeray, which is not so far away. And, of course, when I encountered traders from Jalmeray I asked them to teach me some songs, and Benny Lava is one of the musicians they taught me about. He is legendary among those of that island, as the Captain said. I can teach you and we can play a duet for the Captain. Or maybe you already know Lava's music, I don't know where you are from..."

Fey stiffens when Rem falls in next to her, and her eyes widen the longer he speaks. She felt briefly lost, as if the catfolk man next to her was speaking another language. She takes a deep, quick breath, brain finally catching up to the speech. Fey darts her eyes over to the gregarious bard and nods, grinning. "I actually am familiar with Benny Lava," She replies. "But only in passing. My studies weren't as thorough as I'd wish," She pauses, a frown flashing across her face. "I'd be happy to learn and play a duet. Haven't worked much with others in some time."

When reaching their quarters, Fey claims one closer to the ground, wobbling precariously as she attempts to find the right way to clamber into the hammock. After some struggling, she stretches out in the hammock and wiggles some to find the most comfortable position. Once she finds it, she rises abruptly and stashes away a few things in her trunk (soap, etc.) before making her bed neatly. "Haven't had time to relax in a while. Not quite sure what to do." She says to no one in particular, inviting conversation for anyone who wished to engage.

"Can't say I've heard of Benny Lava. I'm no musician and most of the music I've heard was either from some random tavern bard, or bad marching songs from my old company." Fabian doesn't quite sit on the hammock yet.

"I don't have any means of helping us relax either. I should've brought cards or something. Didn't think of how boring boat travel could be."

Endoin bites his tongue and bides his time and follows the rest of the group into the lower deck of the ship where the hammocks are. Finally once everyone is in the room, he grins a bit and mentions, "So if the cat is off-limits, are the rats available as snacks for us too? Or only for the cat?"

"All I have is my viol," Fey replies to Fabian, patting her instrument affectionately. "And this, I suppose?" She waves a hand and produces a cloud of glittering lights that dissipates after a few seconds. "Some folks are really entertained by shiny things."

Fey stares at Endoin for a moment, incredulous, and then giggles. "Maybe don't tell anyone if you've had a rat or two, but Chauncey might get upset if you take too many of his potential meals!"

Endoin bites his tongue and bides his time and follows the rest of the group into the lower deck of the ship where the hammocks are. Finally once everyone is in the room, he grins a bit and mentions, "So if the cat is off-limits, are the rats available as snacks for us too? Or only for the cat?"

Tamhar glares at her husband in a way that only a spouse can. "How about you just keeping to if the rats don't bother you, you do not try to eat them."

She takes a deep breath to calm herself a bit

"So hunt down rat to eat- no
Rat is trying to eat the food already given to you- Make it part of your meal. Sound doable?"

Hammocks are distributed, and you test your keys against the individual locks soon after. You find that each key matches one chest, but just as the amount of hammocks, there are 8 chests in your room. You engage in some small talk to break the awkward silence and to get to know each other. Just as you start shifting the subject to dietary concerns, slightly touching on permitted activities on the ship...

Ding! Ding!

Muffled, but not to the extent of not being audible, you hear the bell ring twice. Looking around and scanning the faces of your bunkmates, you ponder whether to just go or wait for Siebgard to pick you up. You only have one hour to get to the kitchen and pick up your grub. You hear doors opening and closing, chatter, laughter, discussions and footsteps from the hall just beyond the door.

"So hunt down rat to eat- no

Rat is trying to eat the food already given to you- Make it part of your meal. Sound doable?"

"I suppose..." Endoin says in exaggerated fashion. Then grins over at his wife and sticks out his tongue.

He jumps into one of the hammocks and looks over at the viol that Fey was talking about earlier. "Looks like we have quite a few musicians here. I know my way around a few instruments as well, but I don't carry any around though."

Ding! Ding!

Endoin perks up at the sound of the bell. "Nice. Let's see what they have to eat here that is actually edible." He clambers out of the hammock and heads towards the door.

Opening the door, Endoin looks into the hall. A dozen or so sailors are moving in one direction - towards the stairs illuminated only by the orange and pink twilight hues, a giveaway sign of the coming night.

Moving in the opposite direction, waving at Endoin, you can see Siebgard's bulky dwarven form. "Hey! Scaly! Ye not hungry or what? Dinner time! Tell yer pals!" she shouts from halfway down the hall.

After confirming that she got your attention, she stops, turns around, and heads for the stairs as well.

"Come on, Tamhar. Let's go get dinner." Endoin heads out the door and follows the crowd of sailors.

Yup, we better go get some food while it is available. Don't want you deciding to try and eat one of these hammocks or chests

Following the other sailors, you move through the hall towards the stairs and reach the main deck. A skeleton crew remains in position to actually maintain course and speed, but most of the crew are moving towards the back of the ship, and into another opening that leads into the ship's interior. Moving closer, a waft of mixed aromas hits your nostrils - grilled fish, baked potatoes, and a little smoke. Not enough to actually cause coughing, but it's there. Descending with the crew into the lower deck, you enter a large common room with chest-high tables. No chairs or benches are present, probably to save space, and the crew of roughly 40 sailors are present. Some are already standing near a table and talking to one another as they consume their hot meal. On their plates, you can see a piece of fish, some crispy brown potatoes, half of an orange, and two small cups.

Others are lining up, in a surprisingly orderly manner, in a string of bodies that ends at a large opening in the wall. In this opening, you see two sailors working together to ration food to each sailor onto brass plates. Behind them, two others are working the grills under a set of open windows.

You get into the line, and upon reaching the window, you are given your rations and a warm "Welcome aboard." from one of the sailors. The other one gives each of you you two cups. One larger, with water, and one smaller, containing a sweet smelling amber liquid.

While you have an hour to actually pick up the rations, it seems the place will be empty by the time the hour is up. The crew quickly consume their meals, pick up their plates and cups to put them onto a table in another window adjacent to the kitchen. Some of them pour the contents of the smaller cups into their flasks and simply leave after storing their plate on the table with the dirty dishes.

The food is... adequate. Doesn't stand out, exactly, but it's not bad. As you eat, you notice curious looks from some crewmembers, scanning you slowly as they eat, as if to gauge you. If you look back, they give you a brief smile and wave, then continue with their meals.

My apologies for the late posting! I went to a metal concert Sunday night and discovered that now that I am in my mid-30s, metal concerts make me feel like I was beat to heck. I saw Nekrogoblikon, Dragonforce, and Dethklok.

Fey falls into line with the rest, observing the behavior of the crew and mimicking it to avoid standing out more than she already does. "Thank you," She says to the sailors serving her, a polite smile on her face.

Fey sits with the rest and begins to wolf down her food in a rather unladylike manner. "Pretty good," She says between bites, careful to chew and swallow before speaking. "So, what do you think awaits us at the Garrison?" She asks conversationally, smiling around at her companions.

He jumps into one of the hammocks and looks over at the viol that Fey was talking about earlier. "Looks like we have quite a few musicians here. I know my way around a few instruments as well, but I don't carry any around though."

Remquar claps happily at Endoin's comment. "Oh, I have extra instruments to share! Won't the Captain be pleased at with a Benny Lava composition for a TRIO!"

Rem joins the others as they head to the dining hall and smiles widely seeing all the sailors assembled therein. He studies each face and internally speculates about where they might be from and what he knows or doesn't know about the music from each of the places. He looks out for signs of interest, or obvious unfriendliness, to gauge who he might be able to approach at an appropriate moment. He is especially on the lookout for anyone who appears to be from distant lands.

Rem eats the meal with enthusiasm, making comments regarding the perfect crispiness of the potatoes, the freshness (or effective preservation, as may be) of the fish, the thoughtfulness in providing juice AND liquor. It is unclear whether he is actually aware of the mediocrity of the food, as he seems genuine in finding things to appreciate in the meal. He saves his liquor for last and raises the cup towards the cooks, exclaims at full voice "My compliments to the cooks!", and downs the liquid.

To Endoin: "Thrilled to hear you're a musician as well. What instruments can you play? Where do you come from? I'd love for you to teach me some of your songs."

To Fey: "I have no idea what awaits us, I'm just glad for the change of scenery. I do hope the promises of riches had some truth to them. My needs are simple, but if I'm to travel and document music of all the lands, I'll need some resources and I don't at present have any likelihood of finding a patron back home." For the first moment since you've met him, a touch of sadness briefly passes over Rem's face.

For all his talk about eating anything he can get his hands on, Endoin behaves perfectly reasonably in the dining area.

To Endoin: "Thrilled to hear you're a musician as well. What instruments can you play? Where do you come from? I'd love for you to teach me some of your songs."

"Oh, I dabble a bit. Mostly I play imaginary instruments." He demonstrates by playing some acoustic air guitar. There are some fairly obvious manifestations of magic involved in the process, though you didn't hear him speaking any incantations. Psychic spellcasting of Musical Accompaniment.

"I came from the jungles of Mwangi not too long ago," Endoin replies to the last question simply. And leaves it at that.

Fabian takes the time to eat some food and actually enjoy it. The food is good and an hour in peace is more time than he's had to eat food before and he knows that it's more than he'll get when he's on the job.

When Fey asks what the group is in for, he gives the best answer he can, from what he's experienced before. "Hopefully good jobs, but that also means that a lot of the time the food won't be as good and we won't have as comfy conditions as these to eat in."

Fey makes a sad face at the thought of less than decent food, but she looks at Rem with interest. "What an interesting quest," She comments, quite sincere. "My education on that front was, ah...cut tragically short." She winces, stacking her plate and utensils neatly, not elaborating much on the topic.

Luckily, Endoin's impromptu performance provides a distraction. She watches delightedly, offering applause when it ended.

"I hope to have some time to refine my crafts."

A dromaar dressed in simple linen clothes stands by the table next to yours. Covered by a buttonless leather vest that had seen better times. The man has a leather belt around his neck with a rag and two parrying daggers. Weathered wristguards made of dark hide are on the table as he taps his fork to the rhythm. He flashes you all a hearty smile as he inches over.

"We got a real band here, then? You will get some more training, then be assessed, and then, if you're good enough, an assignment." he does not move tables, but his attention is fixed on your small coterie. Using the rag on his belt, he wipes his right hand and extends it in your direction. "Sorry, I couldn't overhear. And you draw attention with the performance too. Was that not on purpose? Name's Crozzailm. Call me Croz. I do a bit of all here, but some on the Migrant would consider me the cooper."

Endoin lets the magical music fade out. "More trainings and assessments, then." He sighs a bit. "Ah well. I guess 'throw 'em into missions and promise eternal rewards to those who don't survive' only works with fanatics." He grins up at Croz. "Well, Croz, good to meet you. I'm Endoin."

Croz raises an eyebrow at the fanatics comment. "You, uh... Got experience with that? Throw bodies at problems until it gets resolved?"

He lets the question hang in the air, and then follows up with "Yeah, if it's anything like my initiation, they will figure out what you're good at through a series of dry runs and see where you go from there. But I didn't do my initiation in..." he stops himself briefly. "You -are- headed for Dalain, right? We're supposed to be looking for Glory's Flame on the horizon."

Fey takes Croz's hand and shakes it heartily, making an unnerving amount of eye contact as she does. She lets it go and grins. "Nice to meet you, Croz. I'm Fey." She leans back in her chair, crossing her legs daintily underneath her robes, and listens with interest.

"Yeah, Dalain. Know anything about it? What we're in for? Aside from more training and the like. People in charge, what to expect?"

Croz raises an eyebrow at the fanatics comment. "You, uh... Got experience with that? Throw bodies at problems until it gets resolved?"

"More than a little," Endoin replies a bit distantly. "That's why smart ones like me and Tamhar left."

"Sorry to hear that, friend. Here's to better times." he raises his glass and takes a sip. "Dalain..." Croz clears his throat, and pauses as he notices Fey challenging him to a blinking game. He decides to join in.

"Dalain has a little history with it. Now, arguably, I don't know much about that, but I was there a few times. What I do know is that the guild owns it. As in, the land under and around it. They bought it... A long time ago. Meaning whatever the Septemvirate decides on is law. Just stick to the Charter when you're docked or within the city walls."

At this point, he blinks. "You win this round." he laughs and continues. "Anyway - there's a dock, a fort, barracks and training grounds, and a small town that grew around the place. Just plains beyond that. Nice people that know their work. As fresh meat, you'll probably get a bit hazed. Don't worry about it. You'll probably be pitted against the same people in the dry runs. You can return the favour. Just try not to kill anyone, eh?" he chuckles and gives Fabian's shoulder soft fist bump.

"I mean, I don't know what you're curious about. It's a pretty broad subject."

"Oh, I dabble a bit. Mostly I play imaginary instruments." He demonstrates by playing some acoustic air guitar. There are some fairly obvious manifestations of magic involved in the process, though you didn't hear him speaking any incantations. Psychic spellcasting of Musical Accompaniment.

"I came from the jungles of Mwangi not too long ago," Endoin replies to the last question simply. And leaves it at that.

Remquar claps in delight at Endoin’s performance. ”Oh, we are going to have so much fun playing together! And I look forward to learning from you.”

When Croz appears at their table, Rem leaps up and heartily shakes his hands. ”If you’re the cooper, I guess we have you to thank for the freshness of the food we just enjoyed. Are you a music fan? I’m happy to take requests!

I think our assessors will find that our abilities are not limited to playing music, although I’m always happy to play! Do you have any idea what kind of jobs we can expect once we are deemed worthy?”

Croz ponders the request offer. "I might just take you up on that in the common room later. We'll see if Cap' will deem the day suitable for a little fun. As for contracts..." he sighs pensively, then shrugs "I wouldn't know. My contract is on the Migrant, and our current assignment, as the fastest ship in the fleet, is to pick up you guys and take you safely to Dalain. Well, among other things, but that's nothing you need to worry about right now. It really depends on the" he makes air quotes "the job board, so to speak. The Septemvirate is in touch with large and small players around the Inner Sea, so whatever they have on hand and suitable."

He scratches his chin for a moment, thinking. "However, there are talks of a large expansion. I hear the Outfit was recently negotiating land purchases, and someone needs to ready the field, so to speak. So you could perhaps inherit an already running contract, or transfer deeper into the mainland to represent the guild. But that's just me guessing."

At this point, he is finishing his meal, and is getting ready to clear his table. "Right. Pleasure meeting you folks. Time for me to take my post. Be seeing you!"

The dromaar picks up his empty plates and carries them over the 'dirty' table. As he moves to the main deck, he waves you off and moves out of sight.

"Good meeting you, Croz!" Fey calls after the Dromaar, leaning back in her seat some and grinning. She felt the tiniest bit of joy from 'winning' the staring contest.

"Nice fellow. Hazing, hmm? Hopefully, nothing worse than getting just the most obnoxious jobs." She starts gathering empty plates from her fellows, stacking them to take over to the dirty table. "I suppose it can't be helped." She piles dishes onto her arms with ease, taking most of them in one armload over to the table.

That night, you retreat to your bunks after a short singalong on the deck of hte ship. Nothing too fancy or too long. Just enough to keep the spirits up. Two nights later, after a fast but calm journey, you hear the lookout call "Glory ahead!" from the crow's nest.

Looking towards the bow, you notice a soft light ahead getting brighter and brighter, as the lighthouse of Glory's Flame crests the horizon, even a landlubber like yourself can see why it is so prominent. A fiery disk not unlike the sun itself, though smaller, slowly rises over the horizon as you move closer. Without the twilight colours to announce a new day, the sight is eerie at first, but one can see the beauty in the beacon after a few minutes. The lighthouse does not burn the eyes, but calls forth ships from far and wide to either the delta of Porthmos river, or Ovicus bay. The latter being your destination, Agraj Bhar gently turns the wheel to the right. "We'll be docking in a few hours. Better go pack your bags."

The actual twilight comes into view just as you enter Ovicus bay. Glory's Flame still burning bright on portside as you move deeper towards Dalain. From the east, the Burning Mother rises above a five-towered stone citadel, the two towers on the shore marking the edge of the harbor itself. Four piers extend into the sea, each with their separate mechanical crane and one ship docked underneath.

The Nimble Migrant comes to a stop near one of the piers and the crew throw ropes for the dock workers to anchor it. Once that is done, a plank is extended, and you notice a female gnome with glasses and tussled green hair walking to the other side of the plank, clipboard in hand. Captain Bhar stands next to the plank, ushering you off the ship. "Well, this is where you get off. Talk to Emim over there." he points to the gnome. "She will do a tour or whatever they do these days. We'll see each other at some point after you finished your initiation. Have fun!"

As you walk off the ship, the gnome puts her clipboard under her shulder to wave you over. In a bit affectionate voice, she greets you. "Hello, hello! Welcome, cadets, to Dalain Garrison! The place where all of this started. My name is Emim Froopplazbie." She checks her documents as she scans each of you individually. "Now this is the paperwork I have. Please raise your hand when you hear your name." she proceeds to call out your individual names and makes little notes on the clipboard as you respond. Once that is done, she seems satisfied. "Well, that seems to be all of you. Please follow me to your tent."

You all follow Emim, moving into the interior of the citadel, towers glooming above, each of them having mechanical contraptions resembling ballistae on top, with some soldiers as lookout. Walkway paths stretch in straight lines between the towers themselves, with guards posted on patrols on each. The interior of the citadel itself is roofless, sporting a large yard surrounded by tents. In the middle of the yard, you see a platoon of soldiers standing at attention, a few officers in front of them a small, though empty, podium ready. On the walls surrounding the yard, long flags flap in the gentle breeze, producing rhythmic, soothing sounds.

Emim leads you through a pathway behind the tents, and stops to lift one of the back flaps. "This will be your tent. Mark it if you need, put on your gear. Your commanding officer will be here shortly. Make sure to be ready when he arrives. Full combat gear. Welcome to Dalain." she waits for you to enter the tent, and you hear her footsteps getting more distant immediately afterwards.

Not five minutes later, a human man enters the tent from the front. Rahadoumi ancestry is clear here, highlighted by his shaved head and straight, short trimmed beard. Not really in armor, just a set of leathers concealed under layers of light fabrics. He has a sabre to his side and a small buckler attached to his left forearm. This person scans each of you inquisitively before talking. "Greetings, cadets. My name is Kullif Hoseem. I will be your, uh," he makes air quotes "commandig officer, for your initiation. Don't worry about titles. Think of it more like a chaperone situation. Once you are finished with your initiation, we are pretty much equals. Until then, I am here to show you the ropes. That will, however, take a few days, I assume. Depending on your peformance, really, but that is usually the case. You have received basic training already, so you should know the essentials. Here in Dalain, we will figure out what you're good at, and what could use some improvements. Once the garrison commander is satisfied, you will become full members and be assigned a contract."

"So that's the rundown of the plan. At the moment, the Shadowtongue is the garrison commander, and will speak to welcome new cadets and oversee your first trial. The Forgeguide is the acting mayor of the town outside. There should be a new shuffle in about 2 months, so if you want to talk to either of those, that's your time window. Who knows who will come after them?" he shrugs softly.

He raises the tent flap to look outside for a second. "Right. We will go to the courtyard in a few moments. I assume you know how to stand at attention. Just make sure it's a straight line and behind me directly. Once we are outside, you do not talk until asked to or dismissed, so before we head out, we have about two minutes for me to satisfy your curiosity. While we talk, I suggest you get your gear ready."

Fey thanks the Captain of the Nimble Migrant for his hospitality before they leave, bowing deeply. During the couple of days on the sea, Fey had spent more than a little bit of time on the fringes of company. Near her companions, warm enough when spoken to, but seemingly somewhat in a haze when left to her own devices. Occasionally, Fey could be heard absently muttering some of the strange chanting that wiggled its way into her mind when she watched the waves for too long.

At their tent, Fey stashes her things by no particular sleeping area, especially if any of her companions wanted one spot in particular.

When Kullif enters, Fey stands listening to him, muttering the phrases 'Shadowtongue, commander' and 'The Forgeguide, mayor' to herself to attempt to keep from forgetting them.

Thinking about a possible question, Fey riffles through her things to make sure she's equipped for whatever performance they had in store for them. Already wearing a clean but plain outfit (a blue tunic over simple, flowy pants), she throws her robes on over them and picks up her kit, tossing that over her shoulder next to her viol. "How many other new cadets are here?"

Endoin packs his bags quickly at the call of port. He then has to wait rather impatiently for several hours for the ship to actually dock.

"Yeah, see you around later, Agraj."

When Emim calls his name, he dutifully raises his hand. "Over here. Good to meet you." He follows Emim quietly, though he does have to work quite hard to stifle a comment when she says that they can mark the tents. "Full combat gear? ... Interesting."

Endoin has a bit of a sly smile on his face as he starts getting his things organized in the tent. When Kullif comes in and announces that he is to be their chaperone, Endoin calls out to him, "Ah. Our sponsor in the event, yes? I hear it is to be a battle to the death against other groups of cadets. Those who survive will make the ranks and the rest will have their corpses dumped into the sea."

Remqaur watches Glory's Flame with fascination and hurries off the boat to meet with Emim, bowing deeply when Emim calls his name. Upon entering the citadel yard, Rem pauses and his ears turn in the direction of the flags. Rem appears momentarily lost in the rhythmic, soothing sounds of the flapping flag. He then nods and a satisfied expression crosses his face, as if he has recorded the sound in his memory for future use. He behaved similarly during the voyage, appearing at various times to be lost listening to waves or birds, only to return to awareness with a small satisfied smile and nod. Attentive ears, perhaps Fey or Endoin, noticed Rem incorporating echoes of the sounds in his subsequent instrumental practices.

In their tent, Remqaur efficiently stores his belongings and prepares himself for inspection. He sheds excess layers, revealing his studded leather armor. He has a simple knife at his side and a shortbow. He brings only a horn with him hanging over his body on a rope, musing aloud, "It may be a bit much to spring the accordion on these military types in my first meeting. I'll be able to play whatever music I need on my horn." Finally, for a brief moment Rem holds his hands in front of him in concentration, and a light chaotic wind starts to blow around him, flapping the sides of the tent. Rem apparently satisfied with the test, the wind ceases as quickly as it started.

When Kullif arrives, Rem delivers another deep bow, a bit less flamboyant than his bow to the gnome. Rem remains quiet and orderly, trying to reassure his companions that he IS able to control himself. He has no particular questions, as he is confused by everything, but does let out an appreciative laugh at Endoin's joke.

"Endoin, I don't think that they'll have us fight to the death. That tends to be a poor method of bringing in new recruits."

Thank you, Agraj, for getting us here safely and not throwing my husband overboard. Tahmar gives a little laugh as she throws a glance at Endoin. She gathers up her stuff and waits to depart the boat.

It is nice to meet you Emim, thanks for helping us get where we belong.

Tahmar is getting her reagents in order when Kullif enters the tent. She pauses to listen to what he has to say, and then goes back to getting organized as the other cadets start asking questions. She pays partial attention to see if anything that is said is actually useful information.

When she hears Endion talking about a battle to the death, Tahmar pauses. No, honey that was the competition you did not get chosen for. I am pretty sure the goal at this garrison in to try to have everyone live through the actual training. We will have plenty of time to kill or be killed later.

"Endoin, I don't think that they'll have us fight to the death. That tends to be a poor method of bringing in new recruits."

"Depends on the quality of the recruits you want, I suppose."

Endoin looks over at the small pile of explosives and poisons that Tamhar is currently making. "Ah. Later. Of course."

Already wearing a clean but plain outfit (a blue tunic over simple, flowy pants), she throws her robes on over them and picks up her kit, tossing that over her shoulder next to her viol. "How many other new cadets are here?"

Kullif puts down he tent flap and turns to all of you when you start with the questions. "I think... five or six others? Not exactly sure on the numbers. This is not my thing. I just came back from a contract and got this sprung up on me. Not that I am complaining. Love to see new talent. I actually never been to one of these. Well, except my own, naturally. But that was in Kosira. They might do things differently here."

"Ah. Our sponsor in the event, yes? I hear it is to be a battle to the death against other groups of cadets. Those who survive will make the ranks and the rest will have their corpses dumped into the sea."

Hah. Bit grim, friend?" he chuckles curiously "Definitely not to the death, no, but there will definitely be some sort of competition, I can tell you that. I suppose it depends on what you mean when you say 'sponsor'. I'm just someone to show you the ropes here."

"Endoin, I don't think that they'll have us fight to the death. That tends to be a poor method of bringing in new recruits."

No, honey that was the competition you did not get chosen for. I am pretty sure the goal at this garrison in to try to have everyone live through the actual training. We will have plenty of time to kill or be killed later.

"They got the hang of it, it seems." Kullif points to Fabian and Tamhar, but gazes at Endoin.

"Depends on the quality of the recruits you want, I suppose."

"Not to worry. That's why there's training. If you're not up for it, you can learn a craft and stay in the town outside these walls. Not a bad living, honestly. Security of the fort, and if you can deliver quality goods, the pay's good."

He pauses. "But yes, there will be competition. In what form, I can not say. But you've been told to come combat-ready, so... Yeah, you seem like you can put two and two together, if you have not already."

Endoin finishes gathering and organizing his things. He gets his light armor settled into place. Checks that his long knife will draw freely. Raids his wife's leftover ingredients for anything that looks interesting. Counts his arrows. Strings his shortbow and slings it over his shoulder.

"Well, ready when you are," he announces to the group.

Remqaur listens to Kullif's explanations and then stands at the ready to be summoned, humming quietly in a purring voice. Correction to my description above: Rem does not have a shortbow. The only visible weapon is the dagger at his side.

"Ah, 'voluntold'." Fey chuckles at Kullif's reply to her questions, nodding as she finishes her preparations. In addition to her viol, a dagger is strapped at her waist and a shortbow on her back. With robes as her only protection, the musical sorceress hopes, quietly, that she doesn't get near enough to anyone to get scratched.

"I suppose I'm ready as well," She chirps.

"Well, since we have a few minutes here before we get to the battling to the undeath, maybe we should talk strategy. I'm sure we all have more to bring to a battle than impressive music." Endoin grins a bit wider. "Though a bit of battle music always helps."

"Myself, I also melt minds with magic. Tamhar likes to blow things up," he gestures to the bombs she is making again. "How about the rest of you?"

Kullif raises the tent flap again. "Alright. We're ready. Follow me, orderly line, and stand behind me in the yard. Good luck." he walks out of the tent, heading for the gathering of mercenaries. When you walk out of the tent, not much changed since the last time you saw the yard, but two things. One, a man is standing at the podium, observing the scene as it unfolds. Dressed in dark leathers, he doesn't seem like anything special. As a matter of fact, it seems like the most average person you ever saw. The type you forget about two minutes after interacting with him. The other thing, another set of candidates is walking to the gathering from another tent. One in uniform similar to Kullif's, and six more individuals. An older male goblin with a large crossbow across their back. Behind him, a female barefoot halfling clad in hides. Towering over her, a purebred orc covered in various trinkets, holding a large hammer-like weapon. A dwarf with bulging muscles, dressed in only linen pants and nothing else. Following suit and holding a large stick, a green creature resembling a walking bush. And lastly, an elf man dressed in simple robes.

As you walk they scan you carefully, but do not otherwise interact. Both of your groups and their guides walk towards each other, stopping a few feet away from each other. A few seconds later, sound of a horn echoes throughout the yard, and the gathering of soldiers standing at attention part in a practiced manner to make a straight line between the podium and you. Kullif and his counterpart nod at each other, turn towards the podium, and start walking. You follow suit, just like the other group, and follow Kullif until you all stop 15 feet away from the podium itself. The man at the podium looks at each of you for a short moment, gauging each one. And suddenly, without wanting to be ceremonial, he speaks.

"Welcome to Dalain, cadets." he briefly gestures at the walls. "Some of you may know me. Those that do not, my name is Shadowtongue Ziti, and this is my term to oversee Dalain. I will also watch over your trials in the foreseeable future, and if you are skilled enough, also you initiation." he pauses briefly. "You will not need your guides for a while, so I will allow them to retreat to their tents for now. Thank you Ando, thank you Kullif. You are dismissed."

Both guides turn around at their group, nodding at you for good luck. Then they walk out of view.

"I thank you for offering your skill and experience to our guild." the Shadowtongue continues. "However, you are mere gemstones found in dirt for now. You need polish, you need cutting, you need refinement. With your permission, the Caia Outfit will be the hand of the jeweller that tranforms you into beautiful pieces in the art of war."

At this point you hear heavy stone shifting behind you, water flowing, and series of footsteps moving.

"But to end up with a polished jewel, one must first find the imperfections and remove them. To do this, you will face several trials. During the trials, the other members will watch you and guide you to improve any imperfections afterwards. If you are to fight side-by-side, they want you to be in top form. And if you pass these trials, apply yourself, and focus, and pass your initiation..." he pauses, "It will be you, who helps form the future of the guild."

He looks behind you briefly, and smiles. "Now. At ease. Your first trial begins. You may turn around while I give you the rundown."

You turn around to see a circular platform lowered into the center of the yard. Within it, you see two large, elevated platforms coloured red and blue. Between them, a pool freshly poured water, surface aroughly 5 feet above the ground level. Around the pool, you see a scaffolding holding walkway lines level with the water surface.

Above the pool itself, you see ropes holding nine large bags. Around the 'amphitheatre' the rest of the garrison is sitting down onto a set of circular stairs, while some are still pulling ropes to raise the bags even higher.

"Over there, you can see your stage and your audience." the Shadowhand continues. "And you will be our performers. We have two teams here. Rivals now, perhaps battle-brothers later. The rules are simple. The first team to gather more than half of the bags on their platform is the winner. Simple enough, yes?" you can hear the smile in his words, but the voice seems closer. Suddenly, he walks past you. "Come." the man beckons you to take your place in the arena. As you all walk, he talks some more. "This is an exercise of wit, cooperation, precision, and timing. Well, in addition to the usual - extreme violence. On that point, don't be afraid of injuries. We have experienced healers in the front row. But if you go down, you are out of the trial. Go, and show us what you're made of. Good luck!"

MAP HERE

Bags of SOMETHING hang out of reach, on ropes above a pool of water. The pool's surface and the adjacent platform are 5 ft above the ground level, reachable by ladders.

On 12 and 6 o'clock, tunnels are dug under the pools, 5 ft below surface level with ladders on each side. If needed, you can either use these to get to the other side, or jump and/or swim over the pool.

The coloured platforms are where you want to end up with the bags. They are reachable by two sets of stairs, one leading to a 10 ft platform, and from there to your team's "goal" platform.

For purposes of cover, yellow lines on the map indicate barriers roughly knee-high. Red lines on the map indicate taller barriers that grant greater cover,