Mal watches Will in quiet amusement for a time, before beginning to look at the costumes himself. Given that he hasn’t, up until this point, seemed very enthusiastic about the costume aspect of this ball, he seems to be taking a remarkably long time in inspecting the costumes and choosing just the right one. Eventually, having selected a suitably martial looking outfit, he takes it up to the tailor.
Looking through the available costumes, Mal finds a barbarian outfit that might work: a leather cuirass with spiral decorations stitched into it, augmented with small bits of chain . It includes a wide belt and thick, fur trimmed boots. There's also a knight costume with a fake cuirass, pauldrons and greaves but it seems like the light wood would break very easily. None of them come with scabbards or weapons.
"No need to wait, my dear. I'm as fresh as I ever shall be. Lead on."
"Please, then, follow me, milord." Before leaving the inn, Addy will take a quick look around to see if she can spot Gorzal, and if so, try to indicate to him to follow at a distance.
perception Bluff (pass a message)
"No need to wait, my dear. I'm as fresh as I ever shall be. Lead on."
"Please, then, follow me, milord." Before leaving the inn, Addy will take a quick look around to see if she can spot Gorzal, and if so, try to indicate to him to follow at a distance.
perception 1d20+8 Bluff (pass a message) 1d20+7
You manage to spot the toe-headed halfling among the kitchen staff, carrying a plate of food to a table. How he managed that so quickly... well, he'll have to teach you that one. You lock eyes for a brief second before heading out the door, Ferdinand (presumably) in tow.
Adelaine leads 'Ferdinand' out of the inn. "This way, milord." She walks at a slow pace, looking for a tent, building, or alley that seems unoccupied and private for the moment.
Perception
Addy spots a supply tent near one of the outside walls. There aren't many people around there, since everyone's working or at lunch.
Zareby follows along, but he's beginning to slowly loosen his gloves...
Noticing no one around, Addy leads 'Ferdinand' closer to the empty-appearing supply tent. OK, how do I play this? she thinks. He'll know something's up if I just walk in. Well, let's play to a man's instinct ...
Just before going into the tent (assuming Zareby follows, and also assuming no one's around to see), Addy turns to him quickly, grabs him, and plants a deep kiss on him (let me know if I need an attack or CM roll ;-)). Keeping that up for a moment, she'll try and 'drag' him into the tent.
"Ferdinand" looks surprised as the woman grabs him and he almost takes off his glove and slaps her, but then she kisses him and he calms down. "My dear, if that's all you wanted you simply could of asked." He follows the woman into the tent.
Addy drags Zareby in, and tries to position him so his back stays to the tent flap.
After another passionate kiss, she looks at him sheepishly, "OK, I am one of Lady Vestang's representatives, but she didn't send me here. My job has brought me to the Dancing Tabi a few times, and I've seen you there. I just couldn't stop thinking about you!" She leans in for another kiss, keeping her eye on the flap for Gorzal to sneak in.
Bluff
Meanwhile, she'll try and quietly take out her dagger ...
Sleight of Hand
"Ferdinand" returns her kiss.
Over "Ferdinand's" shoulder, Addy can see Gorzal slip inside and close the tent flaps. He withdraws the blackjack from his pant-leg and quietly approaches.
Zareby doesn't quite believe the woman's declaration of lust and begins to take off one of his gloves...
Mal inwardly grumbles a bit at the lack of even fake weapons on any of the costumes, but is cheered up a little when he finds the barbarian outfit that could almost pass as functional armour. Before taking it be fitted, he gathers up a few other bits of felt or hide and some feathers, studs and other worthless trinkets that he might be able to use to fashion and decorate a rough scabbard.
When he and Mal arrive back at the sheltered spot they have chosen to camp (under a canvas awning in a relatively clean alley between two buildings) he sets to work in trying to create a scabbard that will fit his blade, and make it look suitably rustic and match the costume.
At the end of a couple of hours work, he holds up his work critically. As much to his own surprise as anyone elses, he seems to have done a halfway decent job of it, but he’s not entirely sure that it will stand up to close inspection … or not fall apart for that matter.
Zareby doesn't quite believe the woman's declaration of lust and begins to take off one of his gloves...
Zareby pulls off his glove and gets a red-taloned hand around the woman's throat just as a dagger slides under his chin, pressed against his throat. You stare into each others' faces for a moment until a gruff voice clears its throat to Zareby's left. Glancing over, a blonde halfling dressed in servant's livery appraises the sorcerer levelly as he hefts a blackjack sized for his small hands.
"Well, my young lovers, it seems to me that things are getting a bit too heated. How 'bout ye both pull yer hands to yer sides and we'll have a little chit-chat, eh? Don't fancy carryin' either o' you bigjobs outta here myself. Let's be civilized people, eh?"
Mal inwardly grumbles a bit at the lack of even fake weapons on any of the costumes, but is cheered up a little when he finds the barbarian outfit that could almost pass as functional armour. Before taking it be fitted, he gathers up a few other bits of felt or hide and some feathers, studs and other worthless trinkets that he might be able to use to fashion and decorate a rough scabbard.
When he and Mal arrive back at the sheltered spot they have chosen to camp (under a canvas awning in a relatively clean alley between two buildings) he sets to work in trying to create a scabbard that will fit his blade, and make it look suitably rustic and match the costume.
1d20 + 1
At the end of a couple of hours work, he holds up his work critically. As much to his own surprise as anyone elses, he seems to have done a halfway decent job of it, but he’s not entirely sure that it will stand up to close inspection … or not fall apart for that matter.
Mal manages to make a sturdy scabbard, ornamented to look showy and with enough padding around the blade to make it look absurd enough as a weapon to be no threat.
Will perches atop his sleeping blankets with his journal in his lap as Mal works on his costume. HE grumbles a bit about the 'exotic places and exciting accommodations', but it only takes a single glance, or glare, from Mal to shut him up. HE works on his journal, practicing his sketching with a charcoal stick on a scrap parchment, until Mal holds up his work.
"Are you smuggling a sword, or a small child?" Will asks with a raised eyebrow, but nods as he sees that Mal has made it almost match the costume he chose.
"So, I'm sure that our hostess isn't going to be giving away any sneak peeks, not even to the pathfinders. But I hate the thought of sitting around in here until the event. Isn't there something else we can do? something or someone that bears investigation?" The wizard asks, obviously he;s not the type to just sit back and relax,...
Mal shrugs. “We can look around or something if you like. We’ll need to find somewhere to stash our gear during the shindig tomorrow anyway; my armour, your books, our packs. I was thinking either we could find a spot to bury it, wrapped up in canvas, out in a field or something. Or we pay the innkeeper next door to store it for us until we get back. What do you think?”
He hesitates before bringing up the next topic. “Look Will, I don’t know what scheme your elven friend back at the tavern last night has in mind. Don’t give me that, I know a scheme when I see it, the way you two were whispering together. Just keep in mind what our goal is tomorrow. I’m all for mixing things up; business and pleasure, work on the side, whatever. But this gig I’ve got with the Pathfinders is a good one, and I don’t want to mess it up this early. Let’s make sure we get a good look at the items and get what intel we can from this Lady Vestang before we go getting drunk or chasing girls or pulling scams or whatever you have in mind.”
For the Warden
For the Warden** spoiler omitted **
"So, I'm sure that our hostess isn't going to be giving away any sneak peeks, not even to the pathfinders. But I hate the thought of sitting around in here until the event. Isn't there something else we can do? something or someone that bears investigation?" The wizard asks, obviously he;s not the type to just sit back and relax,...
William- You've heard rumors in the camp that an actor was hired to play a part at the masquerade: a Marten of Absalom. You remember one of your professors in Azlanti Studies had a son named Marten...
Zareby pulls off his glove and gets a red-taloned hand around the woman's throat just as a dagger slides under his chin, pressed against his throat. You stare into each others' faces for a moment until a gruff voice clears its throat to Zareby's left. Glancing over, a blonde halfling dressed in servant's livery appraises the sorcerer levelly as he hefts a blackjack sized for his small hands.
"Well, my young lovers, it seems to me that things are getting a bit too heated. How 'bout ye both pull yer hands to yer sides and we'll have a little chit-chat, eh? Don't fancy carryin' either o' you bigjobs outta here myself. Let's be civilized people, eh?"
Assuming the woman lowers her dagger, "Ferdinand" lets go of her throat and backs away. "Thanks. Well, miss, mind explaining why you put a knife to my throat?"
Will sighs, and puts his journal away.
"Yeah, OK. Silas is always up to something, and he usually tries to get me involved somehow. Says it's good for my character to get out of the library once in a while,... I happen to LIKE the library,... But don't worry, I'm far more interested in getting a look at these artifacts than I am in finding a date!" He says with what looks like genuine mirth. He doesn't tell the suspicious Mal that Silas's schemes usually involve several people, most of them ladies. Or that they usually end up with being chased by angry men whenever Will has tried to help.
'No sense in boring him with details. Besides, he;s in good shape, and I need the exercise!' Will thinks to himself, giving his journal one last shove into his pack and tying it shut.
Will purses his lips skeptically at the thought of burying his precious papers in a hole in the ground. "I'd rather not, I'm not a squirrel! I much prefer your idea of having someone watch them for us. I'll trust YOUR judgement on who is trustworthy though! I never did get the hang of telling if a person is lying or not. If people were books, life would be SO much easier!"
"Oh! I overheard someone in the crowd talking about a 'Marten', I think he's a player hired for the party. One of my history teachers had a son named Marten! I know it's probably not the same person, odds are against it, but seeing if it IS him gives a place to start! Talking to people in town I mean, seeing what's what?" He suggests to Mal.
Assuming the woman lowers her dagger, "Ferdinand" lets go of her throat and backs away. "Thanks. Well, miss, mind explaining why you put a knife to my throat?"Zareby pulls off his glove and gets a red-taloned hand around the woman's throat just as a dagger slides under his chin, pressed against his throat. You stare into each others' faces for a moment until a gruff voice clears its throat to Zareby's left. Glancing over, a blonde halfling dressed in servant's livery appraises the sorcerer levelly as he hefts a blackjack sized for his small hands.
"Well, my young lovers, it seems to me that things are getting a bit too heated. How 'bout ye both pull yer hands to yer sides and we'll have a little chit-chat, eh? Don't fancy carryin' either o' you bigjobs outta here myself. Let's be civilized people, eh?"
Addy lowers the dagger, but does not put it away. Pulling herself up with an imperious look, she responds, "Perhaps YOU should tell me who you really are? And just how you thought you could get away with claiming to be here at the masquerade with ME? Who sent you to spy on me? Was it Lady Trithian? That b%$+@ is always trying to sabotage me! SPEAK! NOW!"
Bluff (yet again)
"Ferdinand" sighs and looks at the woman seriously. "Well, I should of known someone would call my bluff eventually. Name's Zareby Grenache. I'm not working for anyone, the party just sounded like fun and I knew Miss Ablecroft wouldn't be showing up. I guess I was wrong. I'm just surprised you bought your own ticket from a scalper."
Addy glances over at Gorzal quickly, then back to Zareby. "Yes, well, it took some time, but we were able to ... recover the ticket. How is it you know about that? Don't tell me YOU stole it from ... me, in the first place?"
Addy sits on a box or table nearby. "Hmmm. I think I actually believe you, surprisingly. So, whatever do we do with you now?"
Addy glances over at Gorzal quickly, then back to Zareby. "Yes, well, it took some time, but we were able to ... recover the ticket. How is it you know about that? Don't tell me YOU stole it from ... me, in the first place?"
Addy sits on a box or table nearby. "Hmmm. I think I actually believe you, surprisingly. So, whatever do we do with you now?"
Zareby leans against a nearby crate and puts his glove back on. "I'm a gambler by trade. Someone bet it, I won it, then I sold it."
"Let me leave this tent, for one."
Silas emerges onto the scene like a predator, he spots his prey.
"William, so have you given thought to what we have discussed? I assure that it will take much effort on your part. Come let's familiarize ourselves with the terrain so to speak. A good hunter knows the lair of his prey."
The halfling servant appraises Zareby with his cold eyes.
"Well, milady, he's already registered as your guest. And since your humble servant can't possibly be the proper dance partner for the occasion...."
The halfling servant appraises Zareby with his cold eyes.
"Well, milady, he's already registered as your guest. And since your humble servant can't possibly be the proper dance partner for the occasion...."
Addy gives a little chuckle. "Well, I could dance with him without getting on my knees."
She gives Zareby the once-over, then says, "Well, Zareby Grenache ... Grenache; isn't that a chocolate desert? ... since you wanted to attend so badly, I will give you your chance. Would you care to be my escort to this masquerade? And I'm the Lady Vivianna Albercroft, for future reference. Wouldn't do to have you calling me Ablecroft again, especially in front of Lady Vestang."
Silas emerges onto the scene like a predator, he spots his prey.
"William, so have you given thought to what we have discussed? I assure that it will take much effort on your part. Come let's familiarize ourselves with the terrain so to speak. A good hunter knows the lair of his prey."
William jumps at Silas's sudden appearance, and places a hand on his heart.
"Holy bat-guano Silas! Are you TRYING to scare me out of a years growth?" The rattled wizard fusses at his friend.
"Ok, ok, fine, let's get the lay of the land!" Will says after taking a deep breath. He knows better than to try and talk Silas out of something once he has his mind set. He shakes his head with a rueful grin.
"But can we at least start down yonder? I overheard someone talking about a Marten, and I want to see if it's someone know." William asks, starting off in 'that' direction without waiting for Silas to answer.
"I could of sworn the invitation didn't have the 'R'. No matter, we've got ourselves a deal." Zareby extends his now-gloved hand.
"I could of sworn the invitation didn't have the 'R'. No matter, we've got ourselves a deal." Zareby extends his now-gloved hand.
William jumps at Silas's sudden appearance, and places a hand on his heart."Holy bat-guano Silas! Are you TRYING to scare me out of a years growth?" The rattled wizard fusses at his friend.
"Ok, ok, fine, let's get the lay of the land!" Will says after taking a deep breath. He knows better than to try and talk Silas out of something once he has his mind set. He shakes his head with a rueful grin.
"But can we at least start down yonder? I overheard someone talking about a Marten, and I want to see if it's someone know." William asks, starting off in 'that' direction without waiting for Silas to answer.
"You drink too much stimulants, Will. You're very jumpy. Women can smell that sort of thing. Relax your heart and be calm. Think of yourself as a pleasant stream which none can disturb and so shall you be."
"Let's go then and consider our prey."
Addy looks at the offered hand, and smiles a bit. "A deal it is. Of course, there seems to be a few things you should know, if you wish to attend a ball for the nobility. For instance, a gentleman does not offer his hand first; he waits until the lady extends her own.
Now, behind closed doors - or tent flaps, as the case may be - I guess it matters not." Addy finally takes his gloved hand and gives a vigorous shake. She turns towards the tent flap, saying, "I suppose we should go, Gorzal. You have a great deal to do before the event."
As she begins to leave, she turns back to Zareby, "Pick me up at my tent before the masquerade. Oh, and 'Ferdinand' ... I've seen worse, but you could stand to work on that kiss a bit." Laughing, she strides off towards her tent, Gorzal presumably in tow.
Once out of earshot of her new 'friend', Addy quietly whispers to Gorzal. "So, what do you think? Just a party crasher, or someone more? And you know, while I hate the interruption to our plans, this may actually free you up a bit to do some additional, 'behind the scenes' work."
"Well, I never said I was a gentleman, did I? I assume we're going to pick up our costumes from the tailor's together?"
Zareby continues to stand there after Miss Ablercroft leaves. This trip is beginning to come unraveled. After all, he only came to have a good time, maybe play against a richer clientele than usual. Who would of thought the real Miss Albercroft would show up? The stakes have been raised. Still... higher the stakes, the more you could win...
Zareby strolls out of the tent, whistling a happy tune.
Silas emerges onto the scene like a predator, he spots his prey.
"William, so have you given thought to what we have discussed? I assure that it will take much effort on your part. Come let's familiarize ourselves with the terrain so to speak. A good hunter knows the lair of his prey."
William jumps at Silas's sudden appearance, and places a hand on his heart.
"Holy bat-guano Silas! Are you TRYING to scare me out of a years growth?" The rattled wizard fusses at his friend.
"Ok, ok, fine, let's get the lay of the land!" Will says after taking a deep breath. He knows better than to try and talk Silas out of something once he has his mind set. He shakes his head with a rueful grin.
"But can we at least start down yonder? I overheard someone talking about a Marten, and I want to see if it's someone know." William asks, starting off in 'that' direction without waiting for Silas to answer.
Mal nods tersely to the elf (how in the hells does he keep finding us?) and stands to follow Will.
Addy looks at the offered hand, and smiles a bit. "A deal it is. Of course, there seems to be a few things you should know, if you wish to attend a ball for the nobility. For instance, a gentleman does not offer his hand first; he waits until the lady extends her own.
Now, behind closed doors - or tent flaps, as the case may be - I guess it matters not." Addy finally takes his gloved hand and gives a vigorous shake. She turns towards the tent flap, saying, "I suppose we should go, Gorzal. You have a great deal to do before the event."
As she begins to leave, she turns back to Zareby, "Pick me up at my tent before the masquerade. Oh, and 'Ferdinand' ... I've seen worse, but you could stand to work on that kiss a bit." Laughing, she strides off towards her tent, Gorzal presumably in tow.
Once out of earshot of her new 'friend', Addy quietly whispers to Gorzal. "So, what do you think? Just a party crasher, or someone more? And you know, while I hate the interruption to our plans, this may actually free you up a bit to do some additional, 'behind the scenes' work."
You walk through the hamlet, avoiding crowds and passers-by that may overhear you. Through a corner of your eye, you catch the elf and two humans from the inn last night heading toward Vestang's estate. Gorzal thinks for a moment before responding:
"Didn't expect him to have a fistful of claws, that's for sure. He's not all he seems, but I think he was straight with us on why he's here. Doesn't hurt to be careful, though; he had a good point about 'buying back' that invite. All the more reason to keep him close, make sure he don't start working it over."
On the outskirts of the tent city, two colorful wagons have cleared an open space and several dark haired, olive-skinned folk in colorful raiment run back and forth, setting up camp and running errands. The women (and many of the men) wear colorful scarves of all design and description along with the dust of the road. Gorzal whistles.
"Wouldn't be a proper party without some Moths around."
Will, Mal and Silas
You depart the alley where Will and Mal have made their camp and pick your way through the bustling tent city. The place's population must have tripled overnight; of course, most of these folk won't be making it to the party. Liveried servants run here and there, washing dishes and preparing costumes. Lady Vestang's manor sits on a low hill overlooking the Inner Sea: if you had a mariner's glass it may be possible to see Absalom to the northwest.
The manor itself is a two-story building in an antiquated Taldane style (Mal can tell a bit by the shape of the pillars and how straight the pediment is: more recent Taldane buildings have ridiculous curves and architectural embellishments). Its courtyard is enclosed by a fifteen foot tall wall, anchored by a large outbuilding on your right. Well-groomed trees peak out over the top of the fence while servants on ladders hang paper lanterns of various colors from their eaves. The gates in front have opened to allow a few carts inside: judging by the sounds and smells, some exotic wildlife are within. They're perhaps a bit spooked by the makeshift corral full of horses and camels a scant 100 yards from the walls.
A tall, solidly built man in plate mail from head to toe directs some of the beast handlers and teamsters, trying to build some order out of the surrounding chaos. You can't see his features under the great helm he wears (even in this heat) but the sound of his voice registers with Malatar: could it be his old compantion Itaden?
“Itaden you old crusader, is that you?” calls Mal, without waiting to see if it is in fact his old friend.
“Itaden you old crusader, is that you?” calls Mal, without waiting to see if it is in fact his old friend.
The helmeted head turns in your direction. He finishes waving through a covered wagon and walks briskly toward the three of you. As he gets closer, you can see mended seams and nicks in his well maintained Mendevian armor. He wears no standard or holy symbol: just the greatsword on his back. His voice is warm even through the tinny reverberation caused by his helmet.
"Malatar Kane! I'd be less surprised to see Aroden himself standing before me! How are you, old campaigner? Thought you'd settled yourself down in Andoran, made a go of being a family man."
Mal grips Itaden’s wrist in a warrior’s handshake. “Hrngh,” is a good translation of his response to Itaden’s supposition of his family life. “Gave it a try for a while. I knew I should have been suspicious when a pretty girl like Kyleen agreed to marry someone with a face like mine. B*tch left, and took what I had left when she did. Should have written to you.” He shrugs. “Sort of tough to put in writing though.”
“Anyway, I got your last letter, by some miracle it found its way to me. My new boss – did you ever meet Selas Quent? – got an invite to this shindig, I thought I might run into you if I came along. So here I am. Good to see you my old friend. How’s life, working for Taldane nobility?”
"Well, I never said I was a gentleman, did I? I assume we're going to pick up our costumes from the tailor's together?"
Hearing Zareby's question as she walks away, Addy replies without looking back. "Nope; already have mine. And, oh, you're my step-cousin, by the way. In case someone asks."
"Didn't expect him to have a fistful of claws, that's for sure. He's not all he seems, but I think he was straight with us on why he's here. Doesn't hurt to be careful, though; he had a good point about 'buying back' that invite. All the more reason to keep him close, make sure he don't start working it over."
"Yeah. That was a definate surprise. Took all I could to not act like it fazed me. Wonder if he's one of those people with fiend blood ..."
Mal grips Itaden’s wrist in a warrior’s handshake. “Hrngh,” is a good translation of his response to Itaden’s supposition of his family life. “Gave it a try for a while. I knew I should have been suspicious when a pretty girl like Kyleen agreed to marry someone with a face like mine. B*tch left, and took what I had left when she did. Should have written to you.” He shrugs. “Sort of tough to put in writing though.”
“Anyway, I got your last letter, by some miracle it found its way to me. My new boss – did you ever meet Selas Quent? – got an invite to this shindig, I thought I might run into you if I came along. So here I am. Good to see you my old friend. How’s life, working for Taldane nobility?”
Itaden nods sympathetically (or at least, as sympathetically as possible with a helmet covering his whole face).
"Working for Lady Vestang and her father has been a fair sight better than my service up north. I'm not going to dwell on it, but I'm glad you never made it to the Worldwound. It's a horror to shake more stalwart hearts than mine..."
He shakes himself.
"Anyhow, minding security for the Lady isn't difficult work and I'm well fed. Many of the other servants are kind-hearted folk, so it isn't rough. Not a bad place to end my career, I would say. I'm sorry to hear about Kyleen, though. I hope you'll find a happier end after your travels for Mr. Quent. We should catch up more after the masquerade: did I mention that I drink now? Ha!"
Itaden turns to Silas and Will.
"Forgive my rudeness, gentlemen. Running into Malatar has been an unexpected pleasure and I've forgotten myself..."
He bows.
"I am Itaden, chief of security and bodyguard to Lady Vestang. Will you also be joining us for the masquerade?"
"Well, I never said I was a gentleman, did I? I assume we're going to pick up our costumes from the tailor's together?"Hearing Zareby's question as she walks away, Addy replies without looking back. "Nope; already have mine. And, oh, you're my step-cousin, by the way. In case someone asks."
"Didn't expect him to have a fistful of claws, that's for sure. He's not all he seems, but I think he was straight with us on why he's here. Doesn't hurt to be careful, though; he had a good point about 'buying back' that invite. All the more reason to keep him close, make sure he don't start working it over.""Yeah. That was a definate surprise. Took all I could to not act like it fazed me. Wonder if he's one of those people with fiend blood ..."
Gorzal shrugs.
"One way or another, keep an eye on those hands. Well, er, is there anything further you will require... my lady?"
Gorzal shrugs.
"One way or another, keep an eye on those hands. Well, er, is there anything further you will require... my lady?"
Itaden turns to Silas and Will.
"Forgive my rudeness, gentlemen. Running into Malatar has been an unexpected pleasure and I've forgotten myself..."
He bows.
"I am Itaden, chief of security and bodyguard to Lady Vestang. Will you also be joining us for the masquerade?"
"Oh? Oh! Yes, we will, William Wyrdrune, representing Venture-Captain Quint. My friend, SIlas." Will says, joining the conversation, and indicating his friend. He smiles and holds out his hand.
Gorzal shrugs.
"One way or another, keep an eye on those hands. Well, er, is there anything further you will require... my lady?"
"No, not at the moment, good servant. Why don't you take the remainder of the afternoon off and enjoy yourself? We will have plenty to do tomorrow before the ball," Addy replies, in her most imperious, and non-serious, tone.
"Oh? Oh! Yes, we will, William Wyrdrune, representing Venture-Captain Quint. My friend, SIlas." Will says, joining the conversation, and indicating his friend. He smiles and holds out his hand.Itaden turns to Silas and Will.
"Forgive my rudeness, gentlemen. Running into Malatar has been an unexpected pleasure and I've forgotten myself..."
He bows.
"I am Itaden, chief of security and bodyguard to Lady Vestang. Will you also be joining us for the masquerade?"
Itaden shakes Will's hand firmly.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance sir. I am certain milady will be pleased to meet you both."After offering a similar greeting to Silas, the plate-clad guard faces the elf a moment longer.
"Pardon my bluntness, sir, but are you here on a... sacred charge or purely for leisure?"