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MuuuHaHaHaHaHa!!!! The dice! They dance and jiggle on their way to destiny!!
Ballar looks at Nivers incredulously, Yu can do tha?!
The depth of this masked one's simple question staggers Ballar. Although only at the bridge, Ballar had assumed there would be a door, somewhere...eventually. Yet, as of now there is none to be seen.
Aye, no'much choice Bud. Sides, don't see 'noth'r way o'gett'n in, do you lot? Ballar offers the question to the rest of the group. He's hoping one of the elves will step in with some sort of elvish wisdom or smart stuff before he leads the group into a deadly trap - or worse. Ballar screws up his face in thought, Hang on, what's worse than death? He looks over at Bud. But nothing happens. Anyways, the direct approach is pretty much all the dwarf knows. All this sneaking around stuff isn't part of his contract and besides, Ballar's previous attempts at stealth haven't enjoyed much success. Neither is strategy. There is at least a 36% chance Ballar would have remembered seeing a strategy clause during his last round of negotiations and if there were one, the contract may have had to go into mediation.
Having run out of fingers to mark the time between flashes and thunders, Ballar sighs and carries on, Speak'n o'drink'n, 'Ave ya been ta No's Four Oh Two Bud? They've gotta heady brew there that'll warm ya up. 'Course tis no subs'tatoot fa tha Boom Boom. Another sigh escapes Ballar, this one carrying an accent of reminisce for a girl.
That is hard work Terquem. It took me a while to get over our cat passing so I know what you feel. Cayden's blessings be with you!
To Bud's left comes the sound of a book snapping shut. It is not as worn or well used as the large leather bound P.R.D. volume Ballar references from time to time, but perhaps a tenth of the size. Similarly bound, the booklet is entitled, Fiske's Guide to Local Vampiric Culture and Customs and has a small metal disk stapled to the front cover with the inscription Du’Orbna Public Library upon it. It'll pro-bab-lay be wine. Red. 'Course thas onlay in Du’Orbna prop'r. Out 'ere could be diff'rent an it'll depend on availabili-tay. Ballar thinks for a moment, No matt'r tha color, could be-a well aged vint'age.
As though noticing the rain for the first time, Ballar brushes the shoulders of his rented dark green cloak. He'd put it on over his fabulous red and the extra layer has kept the dwarf mostly dry to now. Es no'tha bad Bud, could be rain'n Manitcore piss or some sort. He gives his fellow drunkard a cheerful smile before nattering on, Ya got any notion s'ta why thar's no thund'r? Plenty'o flash'n go'in on, an not tha good type, Ballar's eyes show a mischievous twinkle, Ah'm guess'n dark magiks by tha look o'tha dark sky.
Yah think? Ballar appraises the new guy, wondering how much this elf has experienced compared to himself.
The moronic dwarf raises his silver tankard, the scantly clad Thais side forward, in thanks to Cayden's blessings. Cheers!
Stuffing the bag of nachos back into his cloak, Ballar wipes his head and trudges off up the path. Right ya are Nivers.
The group continues forward to the castle either until they get there or until night falls.
*shrugs* Big Chicken.
Turning around to speak with the elven wizard, An ya're vary direct lad. Ah'll give ya an 'A' fa afficiency. Ballar shoots Keryth a commending wink and offers up some nachos. Thay teech ya tha in th'academy?
Ah like ya think'n Bud, 'old tha thought a bet...
Wha?! Ya think ya wee kiddies can take us? Ballar puffs up his chest and does his best poacher gangster pose.
Oi Bud, why's tha new guy's talk'n ta them? Won't tha make'm come an attack?
The instant the new guy reveals the presence of the Manticores, the fine vintage wine bottle and nachos disappears back into Ballar's satchel with a muffled corn chip crunch. The dwarf casts Bud the 'another time' look and stands readying his waraxe.
Ballar's eyebrow raises. The dwarf knows full well Bud's not just asking an innocent question; there is serious drinking behind it. With no way of telling when the groups supplies will be stocked up next, Ballar somehow musters up enough wisdom to know that now is not the time to be splurging. He therefore proceeds to pat down his vest and cloak pockets as to search for something appropriate. Err, well less see. The dwarf's hand passes over the prized bottle of brandy tucked neatly into one of his larger pockets. Silently swearing to keep this as his emergency stock, Ballar's hand moves on reasoning, Bud would not enjoy 'those' spirits anyways. The Arcanist is, after all, very much an ale man. Might 'ave a bottle o'vino 'ere. Ballar regards Bud's reaction, Ya know, from tha cellar with tha mirror. Ballar looks over his items once more then suddenly remembers, Aaa! He reaches into his satchel containing the bag of holding and produces a bottle of what looks to be a fine vintage along with a bag of nachos - zesty cheese flavored. The familiar sound of munching soon ensues...
Ballar isn't what you would call, in Olympian shape. The long walk up has him panting and a bit red in the face. The sight of a clearing is a welcome one. The dwarf immediately looks for a bench to sit on, or one of those wooden signs that has an arrow pointing off to some mountain peak with touristy information carved into it, "Blodsjö 25 miles, Elevation 9,000 feet. Warning, stay away from cliff edge."
Ah... say... we... rest... 'ere... a....Wee bit.
Noticing the new guy take the initiative, Ballar nudges Bud, Hmph, new guy's inna rush. Ah'm beginn'n ta suspect he knows something Bud.
Ballar yawns and pats the bottle of sweet brandy in his pocket re assuredly. Trudging up to the signpost he says, Les'see, 4 miles or 18. The dwarf gives the group a conspicuous look and thumbs to the left, Ah di'not sign up fa'no marathon. We go left, neh? Less one'o'us needs ta go shop'n again. Ballar eyes the elf.
Ballar shrugs and falls in step with the others. 1:54
Ballar does a double take at Niversal showing sincere confusion then a little suspicion with the elf's statement. Leaning over to Bud the dwarf quietly asks, When did Niver'sl star'work'n 'ere? Thas could work ta our benefit if 'ees got tha keys ta tha wine cell'r, neh? With a "in the know" wink Ballar turns back to Niversal, Leed on then lad, yah ob've'ously know tha place. 'Course a wee stop at tha cellar wouldn't hurt. Some o'us are low on spell components an such an we all know how Cayden likes a splash or two ta speed his will. Ballar straightens out his brilliantly red cloak and prepares to leave the room.
Observing the new guy pondering the R value of his attire, Ballar frowns. The mountains are known to be cold, everyone knows that. And it would seem, based on the location of the castle, that the group will be eventually traveling up that winding road. Tha new guy may be smart'r than'ee looks. Without thinking the dwarf lays his hands upon his own clothing, imitating the masked guy so as to feel the texture of his own the finely woven fabrics. Ballar traces the intricate stitching and feels the weight of it each piece while smiling inwardly at how good he must look.
Ah was hop'n fa room service, but Bud's right. Mission first, drink'n lat'r. Ballar secures his war axe and cinches his belt. With a nod to the others he moves to the door then pauses realizing he has no idea where to go, Umm, we're gonn'n ta tha island? Or is ta tha pub fa infa-mation? The dwarf gives a corruptible smile at this.
Ballar looks at the letter offered by the new guy. All the carefully scripted writing and looping letters make it hard for the dwarf to focus, upon much less understand and he gives the new guy a quizzical look, Well, tha's all fine an' good. Ba wha does it mean? Ballar looks around at the rest feeling genuinely lost, but that is nothing new. An did ya get a'old o'room service? Du'know tha's noth'n ta drink 'ere lad?!
Bah! Jas gett'n inta play an now we've got those ruddy 'olidays!
Ballar looks quizzically at Niversal's assessment then, holding his arms out from his body, the dwarf inspects his own garb. Ballar's belted sand leather breeches, apricot shirt and amber vest look plain enough and he'd even go as far as to claim they compliment the dwarf's red flamed cloak. The sturdy boots he wears boast a high enough polish to shimmer with shades of red and burning orange in the sunlight which spills into the room. Ballar's clothes certainly flatter the flaming red beard covering most of his face and with a frown and he can see nothing out of the ordinary with his attire, We've got clothes lad, no need ta go shop'n. 'Sides 'tisn't a very large town. Ah 'xpect tha locals'll spot us well 'nough.
Ahh! Ballar breaths deep enjoying the cool air. Good ta 'ave a view! The dwarf watches the people for a minute trying to determine if their actions are normal or somehow off. He can't decide.
Wat'r. The expression on Ballar's face upon making this discovery is one of disappointment. He wrinkles his nose to ward a foul smell invading the room and backs away from the table, Thas no way ta be gett'n a fav'rable re'view from me!
Wha'n blazes!! Ballar's lightning reflexes kick in allowing the dwarf to draw his war axe in a heartbeat. The silver blade shines in the lamp light as Ballar scans the room for stuff.
Waiting for Olivia to magic both himself and the rest of the group to, er, the village, Ballar watches the cat/elephant struggling to be put down. Fas'eh'nate'n.
Ballar nods as he listens to Olivia's instructions. Doing his best impression of a general inspecting the troops, the dwarf clasps his hands behind his back taking in the sights of the other dungeon minions at work. It is a fascinating room and Ballar nods his approval even pausing to acknowledge the new guy. Right. Vary good. Althoug Ah'm no sure tha ar'lay-phant'll be of much use. Puny thang, how's it stomp tha enemy? Or does it gore on command? Acid truds? Gaseous breath? Ballar bends down to get a closer look at the small blue elephant being, hooking a thumb at the figure in the mask and flowing cap as he does, Yu'll 'ave ta bring tha new guy up ta speed 'fore we go Olivia. Ya best get start'd soon as tha drinks arrive. We're inna hurr'eh. Ballar stands and looks expectantly for a minion with a drink tray to arrive. As he waits he absentmindedly surveys the mirror, So how d'we get there? Ta this Alo'do'whatcha. Ya gonna wave a wand? The cleric eyes Olivia up and down.
For one brief sober moment, Ballar's eyes bore into the Lady's back with a questioning look. The moment gone, the dwarf rubs his hands together and turns to the others, Best be 'ead'n on then. Ballar looks over Niversal's head and adds, Suppose we should a'least round up tha elf. Then follows Olivia to the transporter room.
Pfft! Ballar waves a dismissive hand at the elf's apparent brush off and carries on to their meeting with It'Dupree. Upstairs, Ballar gets the impression that the Lady is too busy for the group, so he tries to keep it short. With only one nagging question really on his mind, An wha do we do if ya friends donna wan'ta return ta their old lives? Should we jus bring'm back forra wee chat then? As Dupree departs, Ballar turns to Olivia, Right then lass, less getta move on.
Ballar follows the elf up to Olivia's station noting all the goings on around him with a passing glance. Feeling particularly on his game, Ballar even notices the wizard slip away and is about to say as much to the others when he also notices the others too have noticed Keryth's little slip. Being Ballar he blurts out, Wha tha blazes?! Oi! Elf, 'old up a tick. Ballar pauses before approaching the elevator to see what Keryth might be on to.
Ballar looks blankly at the wizard, Aye, tha's right, but doesn't move to pick up the black scroll preferring that someone else touches the thing.
Well, no rally took. More like compell'd aft'r touch'n it. One min-nut Ah'm stand'n upstairs, tha next Ah'm walk'n ta'place Ah've naev'r been ba'fore an speak'n all weird like. Ballar says this last sentence with a straight face; he speaks the Queen's Common after all, it's the rest of the world who has put unnecessary inflections on words.
The book slams solidly on the table and Ballar, seemingly oblivious to the change in possession, looks incredulously at the elf, Tha temple of wha? Who'd ya says dy'n? Elves? Wha do ya suppose they do'n 'bout it? The dwarf's expression changes rapidly with each question from quizzical to mildly upset to thoughtful and then a childlike admiration, An wha's tha have ta do with Jacquelyn? Is she on tha same place? Is Jacquelyn fight'n elf rebellion? Are we go'n ta world full'o elves? Are they tha cute tiny ones ya see in books or tha tall snobby kind? Donna know 'bout them snobby sorts. Bit stuck up. Give me tha cute one though, Ballar's eyes glaze over as the dwarf invisions a fairy tale land of pixies and fairies, ruby cheeks, them wee outfits an silly songs an games... Ballar turns to Keryth to try and draw the wizard into a conversation which the dwarf suspects has gone off topic but isn't sure how to focus, Yar an elf, right? Wha its like? Ya know wha we're go'n on 'bout? Ballar's eyes dart from the minion elf to Keryth, back to the elf and then Keryth his flaming red eyebrows raising and lowering.
As the girls explain about the creature Ballar casually picks up a new looking leather bound book entitled, “Elven Deities of the Known Worlds” and begins to unconsciously use it as an extension of his hand, gesturing normally but not letting go. Ballar continues to help the elves with the papers offering such interjections as, Rally? Ceru? Nev'a heard of it. Tha's inter'est'n tha is. and Hmph, yah do'n say. As Minion finishes speaking Ballar looks down and exclaims, Oi! Tha's tha thing! He points with the book to the black scroll roller with the strange bull like creature engraved on the outer rims laying under a heavy looking piece of parchment, Been look'n fa tha, Minion dear. Ya mind if we ask ya 'bout it? Gave us quite tha run'round ear'layer t'day.
Smiling by the table Ballar watches as the girls play. Having seen all manner of strange and crazy things in this realm, its hard to surprise him, or perhaps the neurons in his brains haven't quite made the connection yet, Lov'lay pet. Does it 'ave a name? The dwarf casually leans against the table letting his hand come to rest upon the stack of papers there in his best Van Johnson pose. He appears startled at having disturbed the pile, Oops! then erringly moves his hand and consequently the pile a few inches to reveal another layer. Oh Blast! Sorry dear! The dwarf panics a little knocking a few more pages about, but really whose he trying to kid?! These girls could snuff his lights out as easy as snapping their fingers together. Feeling the peril he's put himself in Ballar clenches his teeth against some pretty genuine fear and with effort forces himself to stand perfectly still, both hands pressed flatly on the table's surface. Grimacing, he turns back to Minion looking every inch the apologetic school boy having been caught passing a note.
Doing his best to not rudely intrude, Ballar lightly knocks on the door frame and politely clears his throat. A-ham, sorry ta intrude. The dwarf tippy-toes across the room toward the gathered quintet, Minion dear, do ya by chance 'ave some o'those pap'rs ya had early'r?Seems we've gotta few questions ta ask.
Synawiddle eh? Now tha's a name worth rememb'rain! Ballar proclaims with a grin. See'n as tha Lady's indas-posed, we'd best go'an see Liliannawyn. She's got tha thing anyways so jus'as well.
Eve'n lass, Ah'magine someone with ya talents could ease-lay ass'ist us. Ballar tips the young minion a wink and with a waggish smile inspects her uniform in a sweeping glance. 'Faid we're trav'lin unannounc'd ta'night. The dwarf leans in to the minion's side to speak softly, Been on official biz'ness fa Miss Liliannawyn, jus got back. She an Madame Du'pree'll be spec'tin us up on tha fourth floor. Be a dear an show us up.
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