Hugh Reynald's page

After the dismantling of the fight and the party retiring for the evening, Hugh spends a good part of the night praying to the flame for guidance and strength in the face of obvious opposition. In the morning, he emerges from his tent with a new air of resolve and optimism.

At the meeting with Brayson, though, Hugh's brows furrow slightly with worry. "Believe it or not, I actually share Sir Vorik's concerns on this. When you say 'stir up trouble', you do mean to just cause a diversion to let us pass the border with minimal military interference, correct? You're not going to strike any civilian targets?"

"The Lycnanthropic Inquisition? Look, any right-thinking Thrane will not deny there were... unfortunate excesses, but the core principles were, and remain, sound. I wrote a dissertation on the topic while in seminary, in fact, and..." His response was cut short by Darius striding between Vorik and himself and proceeding to read them both the riot act. He couldn't help but smile; after all, he wasn't the one who started the argument, so having someone else come in and stifle Vorik was a sort of validation. That smile went away quickly when Darius rounded on him, though, and he stared at the ground abashed. "Um. I'm actually not supposed to be a leader, just an advisor..." he muttered in response to his own failures in allowing the argument to begin. One foot scuffed at the dirt. "But you're right."

Hugh's eyes fill with sympathy at Vorik's words. "Sir Vorik, I am sorry for any personal loss you suffered during the war. War is grievous under any circumstances; I myself lost family to battle with Karrnath. But I do not hold this against your entire nation; instead, I use their faces and memories to spur me forward in our current actions. We have a chance to prevent further pointless bloodshed on both sides; shouldn't that be the goal all men" He glances aside to Tika, as well as any female soldiers of Thrane in the vicinity, and corrects himself, "Pardon me, all people strive for?"
"As to your misapprehensions about my church; I do not blame you for them. All I can say is that it would be an honor to me to discuss this further with you as we travel. I think, given time, you might see our faiths are not so divergent as you assume. But that is your choice; as I said, converting you is not my goal."
A glint of steel flashes in Hugh's eyes as his speech moves forward. "Your remarks about the vampiric pretender sitting on the throne are concerning, but if your true king," he nods to Kaius, "feels secure in your loyalties I will say nothing more on that matter. But what concerns me is that this is the second occasion on which you have threatened my life for speaking of the Flame. Rest assured, as we move forward, I will continue to do so. As we pass into Karnnath, every citizen of your nation that I aid, every wound I tend, every shattered home I aid in rebuilding, all will be accompanied by the truth that this aid, and all accompanying aid in putting your nation in the hands of its true king, comes from the mercies of my church. Should you wish to speak against that truth, that is the right granted you by the contract signed. But I would suggest, sir, that only a man of weak faith fears a faith different from his own."

Eeep! Giant text block! My apologies to all if the Hugh/Vorik discussion is slowing gameplay down; feel free to chime in and interrupt the two arguing religious freaks.

Hugh sighs. "Sir Vorik, peace already. I have no desire to continue all the leagues between here and your homeland endlessly arguing over something that was already decided. I do not desire your conversion; in fact, I am specifically forbidden doing so by the contract signed by your liege. The line of Kessler is explicitly permitted to maintain the ways of your faith. You and all your lineage will have as many generations to provide an alternate view as you may wish. Nevertheless," he stops, faces Vorik and looks the paladin straight in the eye, "I have work of my own to do, and no intention of allowing myself to be threatened away from that work simply because someone is large and well-armed. Since the majority of that work coincides with your own desire to liberate your homeland, I suggest you take what blessings have fallen and let the rest go. If you can't, then by all means say so here and now."

Following Brayson through the camp, Hugh makes some approving noises upon hearing of the current troubles across the border. "While I feel for your people, Highness, this does provide us with some unique possibilities. If your grandfather is so fallen that he lets his- your- own people suffer, then if you show up and provide an alternative... perhaps we can even give some aid to the people of Vurgenslye as we go, showing one and all that the true king... and the glorious new faith he brings home with him... is one that all should love and follow." He smiles as that, seemingly lost in a daydream of revolution and religious conversion. That daydream comes to an end at the sight of the steeds provided. "Oh, Brayson..." he murmers, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to touch the withers of one of the constructs. "This is... you've outdone yourself."

Hugh bites his lip looking at the map. "You're probably correct. The Mournland crossing was not the part of this mission I was most looking forward to." Though he does frown at the indicated crossing via the Shadukar peninsula. "Of course, there are those who'd say that particular area is little better than the Mournland..." One hand touches the silver flame icon he wears about his neck while the other makes a warding sign against evil. He nods when Vorik speaks. "I was wondering the same thing. What transpires in Vurgenslye?"

Hugh's face lights up at the familiar face. "Sir Braysen! Well met! The Cardinal failed to mention exactly who my contact here was." He clasps the officer's hands warmly. At the other's words, his face goes momentarily grave and he gives a very subtle flicker of an eyelid to Marcus- calling it a wink would be an overstatement. Then he lets his jaw drop and echoes Tika's exclamation, albeit in a rather higher pitched tone of voice, his voice going from baritone to countertenor in a hearbeat. "Suicide Mission?" Then he gives a feeble though still high pitched laugh in response. "Oh, your jests... always so... humorous..."

After (apparently) somehow looking in the completely wrong direction, Hugh happily nods when he finally does see the Cardinal's personal seal flapping in the breeze. He nods smartly and rides forward confidently (though inexpertly) to meet the soldiers, speaking over his shoulder as he does. "Excellent! Just as I'd thought. Really, I don't see where the alarm came from; after all, we're still in Thrane, most civilized of nations! Save your distress for when we're crossing through Cyre's ruins, my friends." Once within the camp, he dismounts and waits for an appropriately ranking individual to approach the group.

Since the start of the journey, Hugh has, very studiously, made sure not to spend more time walking directly next to Vorik than absolutely necessary, always adjusting his position to make sure one or more other persons are between himself and the paladin. In spite of his best efforts to do so subtly, he is anything but, alternately dropping items and making excuses to scuttle around to the other side of the group to retrieve them, suddenly noticing some landmark in the distance and conspicuously moving up to point it out, or, at least once, suddenly declaring his bootlaces untied and needing to immediately halt and relace them, bringing him to the rear. This last while on horseback.

Aside from his clear discomfort at the proximity of Sir Vorik, he spends much of the rest of the time idly chatting about his homeland to anyone who bothers to listen or engage him. Additionally, he makes time to educate Kaius in the finer points of the Silver Flame. Towards the end of the second day, he quiets down a bit, showing visible nerves at the wall of mist separating Thrane from the Mournlands.

Upon sight of the mounted troops, his face brightens considerably. "Well, that's excellent timing!" he says. He rides up to the front of the party, seeming utterly ignorant of any activity behind himself, and speaks reassuringly to his companions. "No, no, nothing to worry about, these must be the troops we are supposed to rendezvous with. This is all going according to plan!" He rummages in his pouch for his identification and traveling papers, smiling reassuringly but still casting a wary eye to the mounted unit to be sure they are who he assumes. Just to be on the safe side, he slips his wand of mage armor out of his bag as well and slips it up a sleeve. "I'll just ride up and have a word, shall I?" he says, preparing to do just that.

Perception and Knowledge: religion checks to see if the troop has the Cardinal's seal on their banners.
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
Knowledge: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (17) + 12 = 29

The somewhat warmer welcome from the rest of the group seems to calm Hugh's obvious nerves a tad. "Ahh... yes, a pleasure to meet you as well," he says, nodding to Tika, Darius, Ancian and Kaiuss in turn. "And I'm sure once we all settle into ah... a routine with each other, things will be much more... smooth." He undoes the straps on a leather satchel embossed with a flamic seal, extracting a few sheafs of papers. "I have the required traveling papers for everyone. The Cardinal has arranged for us to be received at a military encampment on the border, two days travel to the southeast. So... if we all have everything needed, we should get moving."

Hugh's mouth falls open and what might be an attempt at either giggling or suppressing a high pitched scream comes out of his mouth, his lips making a heroic effort to continue smiling.

Awkward silence.

The short blonde man wearing a heavy cream and silver brocaded doublet and trousers turns his head as the party approaches. His features display a flicker of impatience and distaste that, upon seeing the company has arrived, immediately vanishes into an eager smile and air of excitement. He straightens his lapels, swiftly runs his hand through his hair (causing more disarray than anything) and clasps both his hands around the warfoged's extended one, enthusiastically pumping his arms up and down while having little actual effect on Bastion's much more solid limb.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes, very pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm to be the church's liaison in this..." He pauses, coughs lowly, and raised his eyebrows emphatically, lowering his tone to a whisper for the next word. "Affair." He nods, clearly pleased at his discretion. "As well as advisor in matters spiritual to our ah... newest convert, mm?" He flashes a puppylike smile towards Kaiuss. "So, ah... has your group acquired everything needed? Can we be of any further support before we begin? And.." He pauses again, this time a look of confusion crossing his features before it occurs to him what he'd forgotten to say. "Oh! I'm Hugh. Hughein Reynald, to be precise, of the Sigilstar Reynalds, but 'Hugh' is more than sufficient."

Hugh's ready to roll.
And if nobody has anything better to spend the cardinal's cash on, well. We're heading into Karrnath. Y'know, a country with a billion undead. BUY HOLY WATER. Consider that tip a parting gift from Distan. ;-)

And here's the new character in question. :-) Background & other fluff stuff still needs writing, but his stats & stuff are mostly done.