Shi'Vatha sighs and nods. "I was afraid of that. If your next order is soon, I'd like to add to it if I might. Say, 10 gold worth?" He fills in the time waiting for the man to finish and sober up by asking the bartender about which type of Tarro root she gets, the green or the white, what she puts it in, has she ever tried the leaves instead, and did she know it's not actually a root but a stem, despite the name.
"Ten gold! Well that's very generous. With that, I can just about triple my order of the stem." The barkeep looks you over, as if take the measure of you. Not (apparently) afraid of your unusual stature, she says, "The name's Patricia, by the way, though you can call me Pat if you like." She then goes on to explain that only the green root can be found this far north, the white costs almost a gold for a half-pound of the stuff (she gets the regular green for about the same price for nearly two pounds of roots). She has never used the leaves, only the root, and it 'enhances the flavor' of many of her recipes, which part of the reason why people from as far away as Bard's Gate and Reme come to eat at her tavern.
Lucifer unhitches his mule from the wagon and begins wandering around the crowd, taking in the sights and sounds. He smiles in return at Akkramar's commentary and the conversation with Ulsted--a smile that looks like a genuine expression from someone who isn't quite sure how it's supposed to look. He doesn't say anything, just finds a spot in the throng to wait for the ceremony to begin--although his holy symbols are displayed openly, and he may be approached by those looking for benediction.
A beautiful (well, at least, based on the matrices that were programmed into you) elven woman of very dark complexion comes up to you and says quietly, "Father, I am about to be sent out to the frontier to join the front lines again. May I receive a blessing from her Goddess, Sarenrae, please?"
"Good Calendir, whilst I know that I am not part of the list, I am privy now those who are being, 'invited to the ball.'"
With that, I'll be picking up the conversation in the Gameplay thread tomorrow. Please keep an eye out. PM's (in character) are now in effect. Everyone have a good night. Further conversations in the Discussion forum (past tomorrow) can be carried on ic or ooc, about any topic. Yes, the politics and sex lamps are now on, please be adults (or at least grown up children :P ) about discussions. Good night. M
Pat sits there for a couple of moments, lost in thought. Old battles and aquaintences. Old friends...enemies. Her last meeting with her war-brother...her last meeting with Him...
The Story of the lost Weapon:
She snapped out of it, realizing that there were several people looking at her. She re-focused and began to speak again. "Yes. I was His servant. I served under Aroden for several decades upon the outbreak of the Worldwound. But I was regarded well upon Him. A week before He met his fate in Cheliax, He came to me in my dreams. I was told that a great fire was coming and easily swallow an old kingdom, and may well swallow all of Golarion. He was going off to do what He could to turn the tides, but that even He may not come back from this event.
"Before the dream ended, he asked me to guard something that belonged to him. He said that it was something that he had used since in the days before He became immortal, a god. He did not use it as much now as he did before, but it still held much sentimental value to him, and it had been touched by two of his friends, which made it even more valuable. When I asked what it was, He simply said to take care of it, and that I would know when and how to use it.
"When I woke, there was a hammer in my tent, a mighty warhammer. I noticed that the side of the hammer had three faces on it. I recognized Him, Aroden. But also there was Sarenrae and Groteus, although I did not recognize the orc God at first. It seemed odd that such an old God should grace this hammer, until I realized that He stood for the end of all things. Surely, were someone meet the business end of this fine instrument of destruction, it would be the end of him. A week later, after He was slain, I had a terrible vision of the event, even though I was hundreds of leagues away from him. I awoke and went immediately to his hammer. His face was gone! That is when I knew that I would no longer directly serve him.
"I unfortunately did not know how to wield a hammer properly, but my war-brother, Sir Fortingray, did. When the time came that General Zelkor called for the Fifty and One to enter Tsar, Sir Fortingray was one of the chosen. I knew what to do at that point, as He had told me. I gave the hammer to Sir Fortingray, asking him to use it in His name. Fortingray knew what I meant and accepted the hinor. The next hour, he rode off to Tsar to meet his destiny.
"He was human, but still quite young, particularly so young yet able to receive a knighthood. IF he were still alive, I would have found out about it by now. But I am now sure that he is dead."
Pat looked around the table. There were fewer in number now, the hour was growing past sundown. "I had hoped to go into Tsar and find him myself. I feel that something not right has happened to Fortingray, and to the Hammer. I can no longer feel its presence and that has me frightened. If you, who are going into that accursed city, I would be most grateful if the artifact could be retreived. I have ammased a fair amount of wealth over the centuries, and I would be willing to part with some of it, should the hammer come back to me. Please, tell me, could you perform this task for me?"
The crow on Azaraunt's shoulder regards the Lyrakien as he might prey.
** spoiler omitted **
The Wizard, just about to sit, hears the offer from the Minotaur, shrugs, and decides to join him. He takes a single step towards the table and then, in an instant, is suddenly sitting with the bull-man. Somehow he crossed 15 or more feet instantly without a sound or gesture. The crow on his shoulder seems unphased by this movement. It appears you appreciate the value of a wizard, and I appreciate that. Might I have the honor of your name good sir. I would prefer to know with whom I drink.
After introductions Azaraunt manages to flag down a waitress and orders bottle of dry Varisian wine.
Pat scowls in the direction of the self-claimed wizard. "Hellknight." She says the word almost as if it were a curse. "What prey tell does the Order wish to have with Tsar?"
She then looks to the minotaur and the pale one. "I too feel some discomfort in such a large setting. Unfortunately, it is almost the only way I can convey the information to you all, including the reason why I so wish to walk upon the cursed soil of Tsar. When you hear my tale, you will hopefully wish to take up my cause." Pat shakes her head, all thoughts of drinking now gone. She had much to do and little time.
To the others, she turns and looks at them each in turn. "I have to return to my post soon, but I wish to tell you all that I can. I'll answer questions one at a time, but bear with me as I go." She takes the seat that Numair offers.
"Half-orc, the reason that I wish to return is twofold. First, my blood brother is one of the fifty who walked into Tsar itself, upon General Zelkor's orders. In the century since the siege, none of them have ever walked back out." Pat pauses a moment to let it sink in.
"The other reason I wish to enter is that, while I serve Sarenrae these days, I once served another god directly, you know him as Aroden. I was once his servant and scout."
After several moments, all of you see the lieutenant walking back to your enlarged table. She looks down at all of you, almost as if seeing you for the first time. Her eyes are red and moist, as if she had been crying. With no seats available, Pat decides to stand for a bit.
"With so many of you heeding the call of the Lodge, I can see in part why the decision was made." Looking down for a moment, she continues. "I was told by my superiors that my request to join the expedition to Tsar has been denied. Again." Sighing, she looks up. "Show of hands, how many of you are actually part of the Society? I know of one already, but he is not yet among you."
OK let me get a head count of everyone on the thread who is participating in the conversation, please.
"It would appear that we are drawing quite a crowd of Society types here. We might have to..." Pat notices her sergeant motioning for her.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if you'll pardon me, I need to take care of this. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. We might need to take a backroom with so many hanging on my every word." With an impish grin, Pat moves off to talk to her subordinate for a few moments.
Feel free to talk amongst yourselves for a little while, boss has me on a special project so I need to spend my evening playing with numbers, and not the d20 kind. LOL. I'll be back on tomorrow.
Remember, no matter where you go, there you are. :)
"If you never breached the city's walls what became of your unit?" the minotaur asked. "Beyond you, were there any other survivors?"
Ruul easily empties what remains of his drink while he awaits the drow's reply.
"I started the siege as a scout, but quickly rose so that I commanded about a dozen scouts under me. It was only a few months in when I achieved this position, far beneath where I am now within the army." Pat pauses to take a drink, then continues, while shifting her breastplate slightly away from her long neck.
"It's not that we couldn't go inside, while the gates held, there were no one left, alive or dead, I suppose, to man them. One night, the entire city simply decided to abandon the city and flee. General Zelkor decided to follow, leaving only those I mentioned, and some other contingency plans in place, to secure both the city and the temple.
"As for survivors, there were plenty, although at least twice our original numbers likely died during the year or so siege. Three from my unit survived, but they were tasked to follow the refugees. I was returned to the Camp because of some injuries that I incurred. Since those three were humans, I would be very surprised if they were still alive.
"I am sure that you will be told a lot when you meet with your peers within the Society in the next day or so. I do know for a fact that the Venture-Captain is off on some exploration of his own, so it will be one of his flunkies that will meet with you. He has a title, but he will insist on just being called John. He is a nice fellow, and he'll inform you a lot about both the Camp that you will likely bivouac from and Gundrun. But he won't tell you everything."
At this point, the cook returns with a tray full of drinks and food, all of which is balanced atop a glowing disk. Pat pushes the bowl of soup put in front of her, stating, "I've already eaten tonight, Raelc, give this to someone else." She then reaches out to grab a flagon off of the tray. Raelc grabs it back, but procures a different one for her. "It's this one, sweetest.". Pat procures a platinum piece for the cook, saying "If is Society, then their money is no good here tonigh'." Realc nods in understanding and leaves.
Lavinia will take her food and drink over to the table the drow officer is sitting at and settles herself into one of the chairs. "I would be fascinated to hear a first-hand account of the battle. Did you have any maps made of the parts of the city your platoon saw?"
Pat looks over at the pale-skinned woman so pale she could almost pass as one of my race, she thinks briefly. "I wish I could say yes. One of the worst, or maybe the best thing about the siege is that, other than a group of 50 or so paladins and knights, not a single one of us ever touched foot inside the city itself. The city was abandoned just as we were finally making progress." Pat takes a moment to let that all sink in.
"I have lived nearly four centuries, and I'll live at least four more, Sarenrae grant. But in all that time, I will never have seen such a terrible place as Tsar. The things that the damnable "Grand Cormu" threw at us I still can't describe in a sober frame of mind." Saying that, Pat took a pull from her flagon, almost draining it in two gulps. She signals for more, the cook knowing that the drink would need to keep coming until she had to be practically carried out.
"They...those outside of Mendev, that is, called that first Crusade 'the Army of Light.' It was anything but holy and light, I can tell you. Perhaps it was that way at first; General Zelkor certainly had the priests and oracles out, blessing everyone within sight." Pat drains her flagon as the new one is set down. She seems lost in thought as Raelc wonders how fast he can get the lt. another flagon before she becomes maudelin. Judging by the rapt faces, he thinks, it's probably already too late.
LOL the Lt. Ripley/Alien reference was actually unintentional, I was going for Ripley the famous explorer/"Believe It or Not! guy. But hey, who am I to look a gift face hugger in the mouth? :P
Wow, Pat thought, so many people, looks like I might be out of this one. Better to give them some parting intel so they won't die quickly.
"Mind if I sit down then? What I have to say may take a few minutes." Pat pulls up a chair, and as everyone rearranges themselves around the table, she gets the cook to order some of the good stuff from the inn's reserves and a quiche for herself (practically addicted to his eggs she thought)
"I understand that the Society has called you here as part of an expedition to the city or fortress known as Tsar?" Without waiting for answers she continues. "I was part of the original crusade to bring down the city itself, almost a century ago. I fought under Lady Zadrain's brigade as a platoon sergeant, as a matter of fact," nodding to the minotaur as the drinks arrive for all.
Ruul looked on in surprise as the pale human girl revealed her own purposes. He let the wayfinder fall from his hand and settle back into the thick fur on his chest. He looked around curiously.
I think I've seen a few of these others at the Grand Lodge...
"Who else here hails from the Society?" the bull asked aloud.
Looking around the bar, Pat wondered who was here for the rumors about the next Crusade against the devilspawn and who was here about the rumored expedition to Tsar. She had put in her application with the both the Society and her superiors in the military, but she had not heard from either. Maybe if I just take some Numerian leave and just go anyway, who could stop me?
At the sound of the minotaur, Pat's ears pricked up. He (it?) was a mouthy sort, but in this kind of dump, she guessed yelling was just as good as anything.
@Ruur, Lavinia, and the rest in earshot of Ruur - You see a female drow, that in and of itself is a rarity. Even more rare is the officer adornment that she wears, indicating that she was a Crusader, a lietuenant at that. She walks up to the minotaur, looking at him as if inspecting a subordinate. With practiced grace, she pops out a wayfinder from a concealed slot in her left forearm gauntlet.
"You do not like to waste time I see, minotaur. Are you hear because of certain rumors involving an expedition, perhaps?" It's a question made to the creature but she looks at others around him to ensure it was not a private conversation.
