NPC Alexander Ravenhall's page

On closer inspection, the mercenary woman’s features draw less parallels with the elven people. Her hair, though mostly all shaven, appears white, as if it was bleached. Her ears aren't pointed, and her face is gaunt. Though her size is imposing in armor and with her spear, you feel as though outside of her metal suit and without her weapon she would appear rather frail. She doesn’t move as Seth looks at her, still staring blankly forward, as if fixated on something distant.

“At the time, I shared your confusion. During our expedition, we lost many of our numbers, including our expert on matters magical. It appeared to be a transition between the plains. Slowly where we ventured twisted into a darker, more treacherous landscape. On their service, the tale is rather lengthy. In short, their people were plagued by a malevolent force, much akin to our nation’s centuries ago.

“They believed a debt was to be paid after we resolved the situation, and their warriors repay it. Milal,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder, “can tell the full story, later of course.” He looks to the woman. “Helmet on, return to post.”

The solder does as instructed without acknowledgement. She places her helmet back upon her head, spins on her heel, and returns to the door. Her crimson tassel on her spear and crimson plume upon her head trails behind her.

“It was nice to meet your acquaintance. Forgive me, but I have other matters to attend.” Alexander cracks the thinnest of possible smiles. “Lucia, Evelynn, another time perhaps.” The man walks around the counter, taking a stroll towards Sinclair LeBlanc and the book-ish, young woman accompanying him.

“To answer what you did not ask, they are in my service, yes. I suppose among us organizers I am the most likely to have such contacts, though to entertain they were hired by Estelle amuses me. Nevertheless, to find such soldiers your search would need to take you across seas, not cities.”

Evelynn begins to pay more attention to the conversation. Alexander raises a hand, and beckons one of the plumed soldiers over to him. “Raise your helmet for the lord, if you will.”

They walks towards the four of them, bee-lining. Almost mechanically they removes one hand’s grip from their weapon, clutching their helmet and removing it.

The soldier is a woman, though her head is shaved of any hair. Her features are rather elven, thin, delicate and sharp. Her skin is an ashen gray, slightly darker than her polished armor, and her pupil-less eyes are a soft amber-like yellow. Something about her appearance and mannerism comes across as unsettling, almost disturbing.

She looks directly to Alexander, though doesn’t speak a word. The noble resumes the introduction.

“You do not strike me as a scholar, Varianna, and even less so one versed in knowledge of the Planes, so forgive my lecture. The Plane of Shadows and the Plane of the Ethereal are linked to ours, the former acting as a buffer to our plane and the latter. In some places of the world, the Ethereal Plane is thin, nigh non-existnt. In such places, the taint of darkness becomes apparent, and travel between our realms becomes a mundane matter rather than one of magic. In my youth, I found such a place, and it is from there where this soldier and those like her hail.”

The woman is expressionless and does not move in the slightest during Alexander’s speech. “Have you questions for one like her? I can have one visit your offices for any inquiries you may possess?”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. Warranted in every regard, though if each of the victims received such investigations, the Guard would be without forces to maintain order. I suspect Helmuth’s involvement to be partly why such measures were taken on Miss Bolton’s particular case.”

On Seth’s question, Alexander’s brow raises ever so briefly. “Most guests at such gatherings see hired soldiers as mere decoration of the event. I don’t believe I’ve been asked such a question.” He looks at Seth for a few moments in silence. “Before I answer, how do you know them to be mine?”

“The evening was far too long, and spirits were all too low.” Alexander puts his hand to his chin, recalling the night. “The walk home was cold, but I enjoyed the time to reflect. The ocean’s waves were calm, soothing even, despite the turmoil on land.”

The noble looks around, eyes bouncing to inspect nearby guests, gaze hovering for a moment on the plumed soldier behind him. “The Guard’s follow up was rather extensive. I was surprised to see such effort in their investigation whilst spread so thin.”

Alexander approaches Seth. He still wears the midnight robes with golden accents you saw him sporting at Emile’s New Years party. “Bold,” he begins, slow and deep, “to offer such services among such company. We’ll discuss our future venture at a later date. Alexander Ravenhall. I don’t believe we spoke at Emile’s gathering, but I recall your presence.” Alexander takes the hand of Lucia, introducing himself to her. He notices Evelynn Durant, giving her a small wave before returning to Seth.

“Good to see you well after that fiasco. Arrived home safely I presume?

He does not seem unwilling to come close, but he does keep his distance. Alexander sits on a stool at the bar, stretching himself before twisting back to Halcyon and Marcus. “Black Lotus Extract is neither easy to find or pay for.” He takes the first sip of his drink, he pauses. “So they have amassed both questionable connections and a fortune they can spare. I doubt such a person would commit the act rather than orchestrate it.”

He takes another sip. He turns back to the bar. “Such an underhanded method. Can either of you detect those with honest hearts above poison? Or perhaps those depraved enough to utilize them?”

Alexander enters the bar room from the south. Gray circles hang over his eyes. He notices the tavern owner and the oracle amidst her reading, but moves past them. It is only after he makes himself a simple concoction (half Tizionian hard alcohol, half exotic citrus juice) that he begins to speak up.

He speaks slow and measured, not so much to anyone in particular so much as aloud. “What a strange world we live in when the bar is the quietest room of a household. I fear the foyer has grown too loud for my interests and I fear my condolences to Miss Bolton may have peeved her bodyguard. Alexander Ravenhall, a pleasure.” He looks the two in the eyes now, searching for something in them.

“What a curious pair. Do the crowds outside not offer anything for you?”

Alexander shows a smile that is quick to fade. “How childish. Politics control everything. Perhaps another time.” He breaks through the center of the group as heads west to the coat room. The man gives a fleeting smile to Lucia as he passes, but otherwise is fairly expressionless.

Emile enters the front foyer after his three servants. Some of the guest have already turns heads to witness the tieflings and ratfolk. Helmuth smirks, eyeing the host as he makes his way across the foyer. Vincent watches from above like a hawk. Alexander exits the room, closing the coat room door behind him.

Alexander continues the debate on magic. “You are putting your people above the people. The few over the many. Our nation is much bigger than the island your magical academy stands on. Luckily, Bleckhart isn’t the Society’s headmaster anymore, and Voidwalker sees the big picture. He at least has some notion of politics.”

“Isn’t an accident by definition a thing that could have been prevented? Who else but the Society could have prevented this? If the traditions of the past fueled the deaths of a thousand men and women in the Roland, the heart of our nation, should its traditions not be evaluated?”

Lucia enters the conversation of the mages and Alexander. It seems the latter man is speaking right now. “It is a difficult topic to address, and that is why we must address it. The wound is still fresh, both in the hearts and minds of those affected, and the city itself. And like a wound it must be healed. I try not to be rude but in the towers of your Society, have you lost vision of those below? Of those without the talent or gift that you possess?

Back in the smoke room, Alexander takes another smoke. “We will have to keep in touch. Farewell Montefiore.” Raphael exits the room, leaving the room a bit more empty and a bit more cozy around the hookah space. Alexander addresses Marcus: "I am sure she if affected more by her predicament than she lets on, but if she appears happy, that is fine."

He smiles mildly at Marcus’ remark. “The curse of an oracle is nevertheless a burden. I would hope Madame d’Orcay utilizes her supposed skills to the best of her abilities to offset this.” Ravenhall doesn’t take a smoke as it is passed his way. “’Middling success’ is hardly a description for your most recent case. You have made the first legal dispute against magical regulation. My fortune for you is tread carefully. Over a thousand families were affected by the Crater that caused those laws to go into effect, and a mob of that size can topple any man in Roland. ” He pauses for a moment, pondering something. “I told myself I wouldn’t speak on regulation and yet here I am. Forgive me for speaking this long about others without speaking of myself. I primarily own ports and warehouses across Roland, though other small ventures often find their way into my hands.”

“I will have to see about passing by Monsieur Tamarin, I don’t usually frequent such establishments, but I may have to make an exception in your case.” He doesn’t sound too sincere, but it may just be how he talks. He seems to be more interested in business than a party-goer should. He rotates his head towards Raphael as he is passed the hookah once more. “An interest indeed. I have never met a seer with advice better than a well informed man. I myself am armed with enough information on most guests here to make some relevant fortune. I mean not discredit her, but I am afraid I remain skeptic. I find such diviners are more often blinded by their visions then enlightened.”