13th day of Desnus Year 4710
It is late afternoon as you enjoy an early meal, be it at an inn, your home, your fort, the library, or wherever you stay when not slaying monsters, preventing uprisings, or conquering hordes of goblinoids. The temperature is comfortable, in the mid-70s, and you can tell a warm summer is on its way.
Two men, obviously out of place in the inn/establishment where you are staying, enter and speak with the proprietor. Both are lightly armored and dressed in expensive clothing and appear to be of noble birth. They easily catch the attention of anyone nearby. Some coins are exchanged from one of the men's pouches, and the innkeeper nods in your general direction, where you are enjoying your meal. In Lord Aroden's case, the two men are escorted by military guards. One of the men is armed with a longsword and appears to be experienced in battle and carries a backpack. The other man, unarmed, addresses you by name and asks to approach. When given permission, he approaches and gets down on one knee. He pulls a scroll from his vest pocket, sealed with wax, and offers it to you from his kneeling position. The other man looks around the room and also asks to approach, while you are in the process of breaking the scroll's seal. You hear him whisper something and as he reaches into his backpack, he immediately pulls out an oaken chest, which he proceeds to place on the table next to your plate. He then takes 5 steps back and both men wait for you to finish reading the scroll. Scroll click here When you have finished, the man who is on one knee gets up, awaiting the return of the scroll. After you have marked the scroll with your ring or other evidence, the man takes the scroll, smiles, wishes you a good day, and then both men depart before you have a chance to ask any questions.
After the men leave, Bors hefts the coffer into his hands, examining the wood and bracings more than the coins and their value. "Jannick, me friend," muttering softly to himself, "what are ya gettin me inta? Our oath binds us, man to a man, but dinna do me like this. Kill me wit a blade, not wit fops and sweetened up dandies." His glass empty, Bors tosses a coin to a passing maid, and gestures for another bottle.
"Still," he continues "twas me own pertard I be a hoisting on, so I hold yet to me deal. I'll hear yer family out, but no more. I serve Our Lady, and by me blades none shall hold me from Her cares." Thinking on the journey, Bors figures he can make the trip fairly easy, resting Acracka as much as possible. This will be the first time the two have been away from the battlefront in well over a year. With fair weather and sunny skies, perhaps the dreams will ease and the Lady will grant a moment's peace. "Though I be naught askin, fer mine is ta serve, and I do so wit love and duty My Lady."
Lord Aroden de Neverion, adopted son of Duke Neverion of Toldor rocked back in his chair after the couriers departed. He opened up the chest and smiled and the shining gold contents.
"Well weve made it!", He yells out. The sound echoed around the small rough hewen two story inn that he and his Toldarian enclave had bought within the free city of Restov.
Sir Norrin, Aroden's friend and one time squire in the Knights of Imoedae came tromping down the steps. "Made what?"
"We have finnaly made the right connections and notice of the Crown of this god forsaken place", said Lord Aroden.
"This place isnt that bad, weve been treated like kings!", said Sir Norrin smiling. It was true. They had been. The free city of Restov bowed its knee to the Dragon Throne of Brevory like any other city. Its ruler, though was a Lord Mayor Sellemius. The Lord Mayor, as well as most of the disenfranchised Nobles (if you could call them that here) were facinated by any news close to Absolom, or the rest of the inner sea.
Once it was learned by the locals that they were not only Nobles, but Toldarian nobles, they had recieved countless dinner invitations. Sir Norrin loved the attention. He was a brilliant storyteller, and recounted stories of the great city of Oppara, their home town. He described the latest dresses and fashions, sketching them out for the local ladies. He spoke of the latest plays, giving good accounts of most. He was a model guest.
Aroden, however was bored of it. His Azlanti markings, the pale white skin, the long dark hair, and the bright purple eyes had unsettled people here. Though he had been withdrawn and bored, it had come across as dark and mysterious. That allowed him to sit back as the guest of honor, and let Sir Norrin take care of the evenings entertainment duties.
"We have been treated like kings", sighed Aroden. "But I, unlike you, am not content to sit around for months, dancing out of date dances and bedding the out of fashion daughters of barbarians. My father has sent us here under order of the throne to establish holdings in this part of the country. Remember your history books. Half of Cheliax was once a Toldarian colony. The crown may be interested in starting its colonization once again".
"With this", he said raising the letter from the Reagent. "We finnaly have the ability to discuss Toldar's prospects with someone of authority."
Sir Norrin ran his fingers through the gold coins in the chest. "Sounds great. When do we leave, My Lord?"
"Sorry My old friend", smiled "I need someone I can trust here to look after the men at arms. And that means you."
Sir Norrin looked at Lord Aroden for a moment scanning for a joke, and then pursed his lips together. "Really.. your going with out me? To see the Reagent, and your leaving me here?".
Aroden felt bad. Sir Norrin and he were the same age, but due to circumstances of birth, He was a Landed Lord and son of a Duke, while Sir Norrin was merely a Baronetcey. Such was life though in Toldar. The two, though, were fast friends, and many years after Aroden had joined the knights, he finnaly had gotten Norrin a comission. It was the least he could do for his friend.
Norrin heaved a heavy sigh accepting his fate. "Very well then, at least I know I will be well fed and watered".
Aroden stood up and slapped his old friend on the sholder. "Once we get in the favor of the Reagent, and get close to the Dragon Throne, then you can come along. This is not entertaining, this is Diplomacy."
Aroden left the chest for Sir Norring to deal with, and went upstairs to his room to start packing.
Looking up from his scroll in the Sage's guild in Restov, Skerrin regarded the tableaux provided by the humans with faint amusement.
Hmmm... Well fed, well dressed, covered in the dust of the road. They must be working for one of the local Noble families, or one of the greater merchant houses. I wonder what they want with me?
Skerrin reaches out for the proffered scroll, and then hesitates.
"Legba, I trust that there is no magic about the scroll?"
Once his pet confirms that it is completely non-magical, Skerrin takes the scroll, breaks the seal, and starts to read, barely sparing a glance at the coffer placed on the desk next to him.
Hmmm... An intriguing proposition. I foresee many fruitful avenues for the accumulation more of knowledge!
He then clears his throat, before responding:
"I will be there."
So saying, he re-seals the missive with his signet ring, hands it back to the messenger, and returns to reading his scroll, nodding absently after the men as they leave.
Legba, however, is more impatient. The form of the raven blurs, twists, and reforms into the shape of a small imp, which scurries over to the chest; upon opening it, the imp gives a satisfied sigh at the sight of the coins within.
Skerrin gives an exasperated sigh.
"When I have finished my research here; you can not rush quality work! Shift back now, as well - the locals will probably not be too understanding about your true nature, and I would prefer that you did not end-up skewered on the end of a pike!"
Muttering imprecations under his breath in Infernal, Legba gives his master a sour look, but nonetheless shifts back to his raven form, and returns to his perch on Skerrin's shoulder.
A cloud of Dust settles around a Chocolate brown horse, a Weathered gentleman hops down off his mount, grumbling to himself, or to the horse, one cannot be sure. His clothes are dirty, as if he has been traveling for days, sleeping under the stars.
"Sancho? What in the name of Erastil is so damned important that I be pulled away from the Village?"
the horse just stares at Augusto, blinking a few times
"Don't give me that! I'm in no mood for your so called witty humor. There was much to be done today, Wood to be chopped, buildings to be mended, and the hunt! Let us not forget that! Families are counting on that game for food and clothing!"
Sancho takes a step forward and nudges Augusto toward the Inn
"Ok ok! I'm going! Don't get your hooves in a twist!"
Entering the Inn, Augusto Pauses and scans the room, dusting himself off as he takes in the sights of the tavern. After a short pause, he sees 2 men at a corner table. They are both stareing at him. One raises a hand, waveing Augusto over, with a small sigh, he heads there direction
"Greetings gentlemen, How fairs you on this Beautiful day?"
Augusto speaks with the two men for a few mins, during the course of the conversation, he absent mindedly pulls out a Cigar, and tindertwig, Dragging the twig across the table, he lights the cigar, and takes a long draw, exhailing the smoke up, as to not offend anyone too badly
"So this is why you called me here?"
Augusto nods to the scroll, he closes his eyes, and mutters something under his breath
"Ok, I'll do it, but only becuase Erastil believes it is an important task"
Augusto signs the scroll, then briskly turns and walks away..
'I would be. Overjoyed.' Bwana says in his deep lilting voice, speaking slowly as is his habit, a habit he knows annoys alot of urban northerners. He places his utensils down with utmost grace and decorum and daps his finger in an ink vial, marking the scroll with a unique symbol.
'Thank you. For the gift. I shall see your Lord. At the eight bell of evening. On the specified date.'
Bwana summons Motokono in his inn room that night and informs him of the meeting, the eidolon is trepidatious, but that isn't unusual, for a being bound to a human Motokon has a deep mistrust of mortals. He enjoys his stay in the inn and spends the next few days gathering information around Restov about his noble host and the local area, trying to see all of the sites.
He also buys more appropriate dinner attire, in the form of courtier's clothes, he however declines to accompany it with jewellery. He arrives in a weather cloak, not his magical one, wearing his magical belt, headband, and other small items, but otherwise unarmed. Dismissing his summoned mount upon arrival after the short journey.
10 days pass quickly, as each of the invited guests make their way to the city of Restov. If you arrive 1-2 days early, you notice the city is abuzz with news of King Surtova's men's presence in the town and the announcement of a formal dinner at House Surtova in a couple of days. There is much merchant activity on the road to House Surtova.
When each of the invited guests arrives at House Surtova, you are welcomed in by a fancy butler, who introduces himself as Haslen and coachmen, who take your jackets and mounts, if your brought any, and who bring you fancy drinks, if you desire. Weapons are allowed as long as you allow them to be peace bonded (i.e. tied to your sheath). You are then taken separately to a private study or room, where you are served delicious appetizers and drinks. Haslen tells you the wait is simply to allow for all of the guests to arrive. He then leaves you and goes to attend another guest. When you all arrive, you are then led one by one to a fancy dining room with an oaken dinner table with capacity to seat 20 people. The floor is adorned in an exquisite Katapeshi crimson rug, embroidered by hand and of the utmost quality. There are a number of portraits on the walls of renowned and prominent Surtova family members. Everything about the room screams money to all of the guests and it seems that is the intended message.
Afer you all enter, Haslen speaks, "The meal and the esteemed King Surtova's representatives will soon be with you. Please get to know each other, as I understand you will soon be traveling with each other. I will see to the food and drinks. Gerome and Friedrich will attend to your needs in my absence", pointing to the two waiters standing in opposite corners of the room, one carrying a jug of wine, and the other a jug of water. He then departs through a door, out of which a delicious aroma of food overwhelms your nostrils.
An elderly Elf, with a weather-beaten face and thick, silvery hair sweeps into the room. He is dressed in a fine green robe, which is high-lighted with geometric designs and letters from dozens of languages picked-out in silver thread. At his neck is a golden amulet, embossed with a design in the shape of a winged eye - the symbol of the Last Azlanti.
With a brief smile, he greets the other guests.
"Well met. My name is Skerrin Maltisse, and I hail from the Elven enclave of Kyonin. I am a sage of sorts, with a particular interest in history and all matters arcane. I also have some small skill when it comes to the Arcane Arts, and came to this region seeking evidence of lost arcane knowledge.
My magic is not particularly flashy - I don't throw around balls of flame, or bolts of lightning, but it is nonetheless quite potent, and I feel will be an asset on whatever journey the Regent intends to send us on."
He then bows slightly.
"Who are you?"
Lord Aroden de Neverion walked into the room with the easy grace of one who has lived his whole life in the midst of high society. For his meeting with the Reagent of the newly created kingdom of Kalendor, he wore the fine Dress Uniform of a Knight of Taldor; Dark grey trousers with a white stripe down the leg, a white shirt, and a short white silk dress jacket with tails. His cloak was bi-colored, split blue and green in the royal colors of Taldor. The epaulett of his jacket had a gold star on each, symbolizing a rank of Lord, and among the medals on his jacket front was a silver Pegasus, showing the rank of a Pegasus Knight.
With smile and Grace, Aroden listened to Halsen, the butler, make introductions.
After the introductions, Aroden stood by the table, as per Taldan custom to not be seated before Royalty. He smiled and nodded imperceptibly to one of the footmen, and was very pleased, when Fredrich read the signal and quickly stood by his side. "Finnaly a civilized dinner", he thought to himself.
"I have brought His Majesty two of the best bottles from my Father's cellar, a Rothchild 09, and a Monet-Shandar 11, you may retrieve them from my squire." He motioned to young William, one of the young knights in training who accompanied his retinue to the free city of Restov. At the motion the 12 year old boy dressed in a brillaintly white tabbard, mirror shined boots, and white gloves stepped forward with the two bottles of wine.
"His Majesty can enjoy them at his leasure with compliments from Duke Neverion del Talden. The Squire will be serving me during my stay, please place him behind my chair at dinner".
With the bottles taken from him, the relieved golden haired boy stepped back to put his back against the wall and stared perfectly forward.
Traditional gift accomplished, Aroden looked at the other guests.
"Well, time for a little diplomacy he thought for himself", He smoothed the front of his fine silk jacket.
Skerrin Matise, the elderl elf then bowed slightly.
"Who are you?", the elf said with great dignity.
"A great pleasure, Sage Matise. I have never been to Kyonin, but the beauty of its forests are legendary even in Taldor", Lord Aroden walked forward and returned the bow.
"I am Aroden de Neverion, Son of Duke Neverion of Taldor, Pegasus Knight of the 5th circle and at your service. I am here on a diplomatic mission for the crown of Taldor. I am curious. You say that you will be usefull on whatever journey the Reagent cares to send us on. Im not aware of the details of any such a journey, can you elaborate?"
When speaking with Lord Aroden, you notice a two very odd things. The first is his appearance. At a distance nothing particularly stood out, but now here in close proxmity his features are odd. His pale white skin, his arched brows and high cheekbones, his slightly leaf shaped ears, but most of all, his bright violet eyes mark him as anything but human.
The second item was the sword, honor bound at his side. It glows with a soft white light. The golden crossguard is formed by two wings intersecting at the blade under a circlet of a single eye, the symbol of the Last Azlanti.
Sensing that Lord Aroden seems to stand on ceremony, Skerrin inclines his head to acknowledge his greeting, and gives a brief, formal smile.
"I am afraid that I have no specific intelligence about a task; however, Haslen said that we would soon by traveling together, and I assume that the Regent would not have brought us together simply for the pleasure of mutual company - there must be a higher goal..."
Skerrin's eyes drift across Lord Aroden's unusual features, before focusing on his peace-bound weapon.
Hmmmm... Interesting. I have not seen a Gillman in a *long* time. He is certainly a long way from home! He may act and sound like a Taldan noble, but I wonder where he originally comes from...
"Forgive the breach of protocol, but that is a rather... unusual name that you have there. I could not help also noticing your blade. I trust that there is an interesting story behind both? Are you a follower of the Last Azlanti as well? Again, forgive the impropriety, but you seem a bit young to remember my lost Lord..."
"No certainly I undertand", Said Lord Aroden with a smile. "I do get that a lot, having been named after the Diety. I am in fact an acolyte of his Avatar and Inheritor, my Lady Imoedae."
Aroden placed his hand on the hilt of the weapon at his side. "The sword, you could say, is a family heirloom. Though I am not a follower, I am quite facinated by the history of Aroden, my namesake. There are a great many mysteries around him, and very little information sadly. If you are a scholar of his works, and the Azlanti in general, I would be very interested in hearing you discorurse on the subject".
He glanced around the room, looking at the others. "Though we may have to wait until after dinner. I am here on buisness for the Crown of Toldor? If you dont mind me asking, in what manner will you be serving the Crown tonight?"
A sudden rise of voices can be heard from the door, there is some scuffling, then you hear a gruff voice rise above the rest..
" NO BLAST YOU!, you cannot have my hat! Its my Lucky hat!, and leave my coat alone as well! They are MINE, get your OWN!
In the doorway, pushing some servants away from him, Stands a rather ruff looking man covered in a long Dark Brown trent-style coat, topped with a wide brimmed hat, that has a flat top. Standing about 5'11", hes short-trimmed bear has streaks of Gray, along with the hair at his temples. Slung across his back is something of a staff, with a blade on each end. He looks VERY out of place amongst the other guests, and it wouldn't take much for you to agree.
"No i don't have a scrabbard for this weapon.... Yes I understand in needs to be bound....No you cannot take it! I am an Holy Inquisitor of Erastil! I am a lawful man, there will be no need to remove this weapon from its sling, I swear it on Erastil!
The Arguement lasts for a few more seconds, before the man briskly walks away from the crowd of Servants
"Bloodly nobles", he thinks to himself.
The man just stands and scans the crowd, before his gaz stops on Skerrin and Lord Aroden. Noticing the Sword tied to Aroden's waist, he raises an eyebrow and heads their Direction
With a Slight accent that could be relatied to Spanish, he speaks
"Howdy, I'm Augusto De La Mancha, Inquisitor of the Church of Erastil, you may call me Augusto. I'm not one for formalities, if you didn't notice. Thats an Fancy Sword you have on your hip. Is it just for show? or can you put it to good use?"
Augusto has a crooked grin on his face, you can tell he jests, and is not serious about he comment at all
Aroden watched the odd tussle and outburst of the older gentleman's entrance. He held back a look of distain at the man's scruffy and worl leather clothing. At the same time he was awfuly amused.
He smiled knowingly at Skerrin the sage.
"Oh look", said Aroden under his breath, "He is comming this way"
With a Slight accent that could be relatied to Spanish, the inquisitor adresses the two. "Howdy, I'm Augusto De La Mancha, Inquisitor of the Church of Erastil, you may call me Augusto. I'm not one for formalities, if you didn't notice. Thats an Fancy Sword you have on your hip. Is it just for show? or can you put it to good use?"
Aroden bowed his head slightly to the newcommer.
"Greetings, Inquistor De La Mancha, May I introduce to you Sage Maltisse de Kyonin. And I am Aroden de Neverion, Pegasus Knight of Taldor", said Lord Aroden with a flourish. "And I assure you my blade is authentic."
"Im afraid we have very little of the church of Erastil in Taldor. Your bretheren find our city ways backwards, and I am afraid we are very caught up in our archaic notions of... fashion.. and er... lavatories", Lord Aroden spoke consealing a wink in Skerrin's direction. "So what brings a defender of the woods to a fine dinner with a King?".
Standing off to the side, Bors takes a few moments to scan the portraits lining the walls. He scans the faces carefully, looking for features in common with Jannick. "Surely a few o' them be related to Jannick, orin he'll be paying a mighty fine thump fer gettin me inta this"
Looking around at the others, dressed in manners much for regal or elegant than himself, he scowls slightly at having taken his friend's advice. "Wear the dress uniform, bring out the mitey shiny pretties ye won wit yer blood. You'll impress them all ye will, and put the family at ease with proof of yer mettle. Ye are so gonna rue asendin me here, me Captain."
Hearing the commotion, and witnessing the abrupt entrance, Bors lightly graces his hands across the hilts of his sheathed and bound blades. Having heard mention of Her Ladyship Iomedae, and now Erastil, his mind thinks to more pressing matters. This is not the place for him, the Wound is wide open, and more filth pours through each day. "My Lady, is this truly me place, the path ye set afore me. So be it, an by the faith and the measure, I will strive to see it through."
Walking over towards the others, hands aside and open in peace, Bors gives the stride of a model soldier. His dull blue and gray uniform, a remodel of an Andoran Eagle's field outfit, is accented with black trim, belts and boots. Dark gloves are tucked into his belt, between the red leathered hilt of a longsword on his left, and the silver and steel hilt of a plainer longsword on his right. His watch cape is black backed and gray lined, hanging to just above the knees. On his left breast are a silver eagle, a steel grey falcon, and a golden sword and burst symbol of Iomedae, each hanging from a ribbon of blue, white and gray.
"Pardon my rudeness, worthies, glad am I to be makin yer acknowlegements, but afore we meet wit our august hosts, I should at least be likewise making myself known. I am Bors Ormanera, late of Mendev, a scout and tracker of the Justice that is Iomedae, and I clearly be outta my element here. Do this high affairs and ado's last long, as I dinnae keen to guess why ye be needin the likes o me fer the doings of such folks as yerselves?"
Aroden looked at the man who walked up to the crowd. The new solider, in his black dress uniform was clearly out of place, yet he resonated a strenght, and a steelyness of someone who had served many a campaign.
"Here is a soldier that deserves respect", thought Aroden.
Aroden looked at the mans decoration board. "Member of the Steel Falcons, impressive. Thats a crack regiment. Silver eagle for unmatched valor on the battle field, and a Sunburst of Iomeade. Good soldier indeed. I have not earned a Sunburst yet."
Then he scanned for a rank, but found none.
"That is odd he shows no rank. He is obviously a skilled soldier.", he thought. Aroden snapped his heals to attention, and gave the soldier a salute. Not an officer's salute, but a soldiers salute to an equal.
"Master Ormanera, I apologize, as I am not fully versed in Andoran rank structure though they are our neighbors, but I have great respect for the Steel Falcons. I am sure its your combat skills that have brought you here this evening. I too serve Our Lady, ever sharp be her sword. You serve in the Scouts? Calvary or foot? And were you posted on the Cheliax front?"
Laird, me apologies, but I be neither truly a full Eagle Knight nor a Steel Falcon, though of Andoran birth I am. I hae served wit good men from both on the frontiers of Mendev, delving inta the lands o' the Worldwound. These be honorifics granted me for me efforts, more cause the dead be not needing em an less afer I be deservin. I am nae much for the politicking that seems ta go fer service in their ranks, so I prefer to remain in honor of Lady Iomedae now. I am but Her humble scout, whether by foot or mount, following Her will and bringing steel and justice to those deserving either.
Glancing at the other persons assembled, Bors takes measure just how out of place he seems. What do men do with their hands in talks and discussions in places like these? With his discomfort rising, Bors, hides them behind his back.
I hae spent the last few years leadin strike an fade groups o'er the walls, seekin out those fiends what the priests and sages hae learnt seek to cause the most mayhem upon our lands. Me an mine hunt em out, lead the Lady's blades to their holes, then pays them wit the compassions they showers upon those poor an unfortunate bastards what fall into their talons.
Such talk only seems to add to Bor's distress. Jannick, tis all yer fault me lad.
Bwana walks in, arriving a little after the others, he barely has a chance to speak in the drawing room as they wait.
He is a stocky man if average height, his Mwangi origon clear in his dark skin and eyes. His head is entirely shaved over a wide, though handsome face. He is wearing a blue long coat and grey breeches and boots this evening, though he notably wears no jewellery.
During a lull in the conversation, he queitly interjects to simply say.
'Good Evening. I am Bwana Unjunti. Of the Mwangi Expanse. It is a pleasure. To meet you all. This evening.' He says it slowly, deliberately, in his deep almost lyrical accent.
Skerrin visibly brightens at Lord Aroden's interest in the Last Azlanti.
"I would be delighted to tell you what I can of your lost namesake. It is so rare these days to meet anyone other than a historian who has an interest in him. However, I agree, it is probably a conversation that should wait for another occasion. It seems more guests approach!"
Skerrin observes the interplay between the Woodsman and the Noble with no small amusement. Although he is more comfortable when surrounded by the accoutrements of civilisation, he has had extensive dealings with all the strata of society in his incessant quest for knowledge.
Still he muses it is probably better if we manage to play nice; we need to put on a good show for our host after all, especially if he expects us to work together...
Skerrin is on the brink of saying something to distract Lord Aroden, when Bors provides one.
Excellent
Subtly inclining his head, he attracts the attention of one of the waiting servants, requesting a glass of chilled spring water, which he begins to slowly sip, as he observes the other guests.
When Bwana enters the room, however, Skerrin's interest is piqued.
"Greetings Bwana. You *are* a long way from home. What brings you this far north?"
"Ah A Mendevian", said Lord Aroden to Bors. "Im sorry of the mistake. Your accent was strongly Andoran. Ive spent quite a bit of time in Mendev."
"My Regiment, the Taldorian Pegausus Knights, 5th Circle, just finished a two year tour of Duty in the Fourth Crusade. We killed many minons of the Storm King."
Aroden paused for a moment, looking introspectivley at the cieling.
"We lost some good knights there before the Emperor called us home." he looked back at boors. "Blight is still there, Storm King still lives. But we all serve as Iomedae calls".
He motions to one of the manservants.
"Two tankards of your finest meade", he said sending the servant off.
"I suddenly feel like drinking. I hope you will join me".
So aye, the Pegasii then. Yer shadow mave passed o're meself a time er two. Me last real run was into Drezen, leading a strange magus, his warrior companion, and a priestess of Sarenrae afer some fool vault locked away 'aneath the ruins. Only me cap'n n meself made it back. Afer that, just be scoutin and raidin pusty collections of wee demonic trash and manky beasties near and round the Wardstones.
Bors notes the new comer, and nods a head in greeting, again taking measure of his companions. What are the likes o us adoin eer tagether? Interestin lot o mannies, tis fer sure.
Aye, I be up to sharing a mug, in honor of the service we both hae shared. To the Fourth, may it be the last, or we live to fight the Fifth.
Addressing Lord Aroden, while taking in the site of Bors, and Bwana, Augusto replys, Grinning at Aroden's comment on lavatories
"Erastil sends me where he believes I am needed. While I may not agree with him all of the time, the Lord of the Hunt knows best. The Village I have been staying at still needs quite a bit of work, buildings need repaired, the town's larders need filling with supplies for the comming winter. I was loathe to leave, but the gold that was given to me shall be put to good use."
Augusto's fist clenches suddenly, he pauses to take a deep breathe before releasing it
We are in need of a wall and some defenses now. Banditry has risen as of late, not to mention those damned Mites. They sneak their way in to every nook and cranny they can find, play cruel tricks, steal food, tools and whatever they can get their hands on. Just last week, Samuel's dog went missing... such a shame, she was a good dog too.
Suddenly done with his topic, Augusto looks around for a servant
"Do you think they have coffee here? I could use a nice warm cup"
Skerrin nods at Augusto's comments regarding mites.
"Yes, they can be quite troublesome. I remember we had an infestation in one of the outlying hamlets a few decades ago - it was quite difficult to get rid of them!"
On the subject of coffee...
"Given the status and quality of our host, I daresay that they would be able to produce coffee in short order even if they do not have it prepared right now."
Skerrin continues to slowly sip his water, before musing to the room at large...
"I must say, I am quite curious as to what we have been gathered here for..."
When Bwana enters the room, however, Skerrin's interest is piqued.
"Greetings Bwana. You *are* a long way from home. What brings you this far north?"
'Indeed. I have travelled the length of Avistan. Seeing what sites and having what adventures I can.'
'When does dinner begin?'
'When does dinner begin?'
Why right now, but of course, if you gentlemen will take your places at the table", says a firm female voice. As the party looks, you see a very attractive human woman of about 30 years with short cropped brown hair, dressed in a red dining gown, which only enhances her hourglass figure. As you seek your seats, the woman says, "Let me introduce myself, Victoria Carrigan, Ambassador to the honorable King Surtova of Kalindor, and host for this evening. Haslen, you may commence with dinner." Victoria finds a seat at the head of the table, which Gerome holds out for her while Friedrich fills her goblet with wine. "As you wish madame" is the butler's response as he hurries off. Victoria raises her goblet, "Cheers and thank you for coming from all over to hear my King's proposition." You can't help but notice how perfectly your hostess intones and chooses her words, aiming for grand effect. You can tell she is used to public speaking and public events. Her voice also seems very melodic.
The door bursts open with Haslen leading an array of waiters with several meal choices, including roasted pheasant, venison, and fruit salad with elven berries. You are each served healthy portions of food. Victoria speaks, "Now let's not ruin this grand meal with business, we will get there soon enough. Please eat and enjoy."The waiters acquiesce to your requests and some coffee is brewed and soon brought to Augusto.
The food is exquisite and the drink even more, though everything is portioned in moderation. You chit chat through most of the meal.
After the meal, the plates are gathered and taken away by the waiters. In enters a human male, in his mid-30s, with full moustache and beard. He is dressed in leathers with riding boots and a green cloak with a bow strapped to his back. Victoria says, "This is Garrick Avery, our King's Marshal, organizer of his patrols in the wilds. Pay his attire no mind, he has no sense of fashion." Garrick smiles at her comment.
Victoria continues, "Now, while I am sure I could be entertained by each of your stories for the next few hours, I am afraid we cannot waste such time. As you must know, my King, Garrick, other friends, and I were common adventurers until a few years ago when the Swordlords of Restov commissioned us to root out the bandit problem and colonize the Stolen Lands. We joined up and did just that, exploring the land, ridding it of evil humanoids, and finding precious resources, such as several mines with copper and silver ore, which have served us nicely. We rid the lands of the Stag Lord, a local bandit leader. Our exploits were so successful that we found a fort and with economic support from the Swordlords set up a base of operations about 3 weeks time from here. We continued bringing people under our banner, defeated some uprisings, and drove out some troll tribes. In 3 years' time we have taken our charter and established a blossoming kingdom. Unfortunately, our times serving our King has left us little time to adventure outside of our kingdom, as we are continually loaded down with the internal processes of our lands and people. The reason we have sought your services is not only because you come highly recommended from reliable sources but that you can handle the dangers of the wilderness."
Victoria pauses, "I hope we can keep this confidential should you decline our offer. We have lost contact with one of our colonies to the southwest of here, Varnhold. The settlers of Varnhold have not responded to messengers, and some envoys have gone missing as well. Due to the political climate, Restov is limited in the aid it can provide us, as any act could be interpreted as a sign of aggression by factions in Issia. As such, Restov has to disavow any contact with its agents to the south. We are limited by the scope of our holdings and thus have to turn to outside forces to aid us. We have chosen you not only for your skill but also for your temperament. Most of you have followed a calling to the benevolent gods, Iomedae and Erastil. We ask that you solve the mystery of Varnhold by going there and reporting back as to what is the status of the settlement there. If they are in trouble, we hope you will help them. What say ye? Your assistance will be compensated financially and/or politically, if that is your desire."
Bors eats little, preferring less rich and sauced meals than the fare meted out at such fine tables. He listens reservedly to the converstaions, watching more for moods and tells than real dialog.
After the meal, upon the entrance of Marshall Avery and the subsequent speech by Ambassador Carrigan, Bors decides upon his course. Jannick, ye be knowin I cinnae back down where others be in danger. Me dark dreams be pushin me onwards. Blast ye to the depths which seek us all. This was nae what I wanted, nae what I expected. By the Lady you better hold to yer end should this go awry. Looking around at the others assembled for this 'mission,' Bors shakes his head slightly. By the looks me Cap'n, more than naught, this thing'll be goin gang aft agley.
Pushing back slightly from the table, better to turn to address his hosts, Bors speaks up, perhaps out of turn, and prior voice to his betters. I be owin' naught to you an yers, but a man of the Surtova I be glad ta call me friend. Fer what he and I hae seen, fer what was done atween us, I'll be answerin this call in his stead. I serve the Lady of Just Rule, so in her name I will hold ta yer quest, ter aid yer kingship an ta looks into the doings of the Varnhold. Fer good ere fer ill, these blades o' honor an valor willst see to the heart o' the matter. May Iomedae shine the Light that leads our way.
Augusto removes his hat, placing it over his heart, he speaks a soft prayer.
"So this is why Erastil deemed it a worthy cause. I am at your service. Do you perhaps have anymore information on Varnhold? Could they settlement have gone rogue? or do you suspect someone, or something has attacked it?"
"Thank you for your service, whatever your reasons may be. About Varnhold, I can tell you was established about a year ago by a group of mercenaries led by a man named Maegar Varn. Maegar is the 3rd son of Androth Varn, a Brevic baron of Issian descent, Since he does not stand to inherit his father's fortune, being 3rd in line, the best way for him to earn his fortune was to establish the colony, so it seems unlikely he would rebel againt Brevoy or go rogue, he has nothing to gain in doing so. The colony had about 100 inhabitants as of its last census taken 2 months ago, mostly farm laborers and craftsmen." Victoria pauses as she looks over some of her notes. "The colony is in the central Nomen Heights, a wide valley between the two low mountains of the Tors of Levenies. We've lost communication with the colony for the past 2 weeks. Garrick can give you more information on the Nomen Heights and what lives there, if you wish. Garrick, if you would be so kind.."
Garrick clears his throat rather forcefully. It is obvious he is uncomfortable with public speaking. "Right, the Nomen Heights, ay? Well, for one thing, they be the home of the Nomen centaurs. We know what centaurs are, right, people? Half-horse, half-men, tough SOBs, strong fast, skilled with weapons. Poor bastards, they been on the receiving end of some ass-kickin' since the dawn of time, if ye ask me. First, it was some ancient cyclops empire that no one ever talks about, then more recently, they came under fire from Taldoran swords expanding south, so their numbers have been reduced, it seems every year." With this last comment, Garrick looks at Lord Aroden and takes a sip of his meade. "However, luckily for them, Taldor gave up its quest for expansion and returned home, leaving their original lands devastated, leaving many of the centaurs extremely suspicious of outsiders as you might imagine. Now, this Varnhold place, it was established at the edge of their old rangelands, so maybe they could be involved. Whatever the reason, be careful, they hate strangers and Taldorans in particular." Again, Garrick looks at Aroden and his uniform. "Might as well paint a bullseye on your chest if you be walking around like that in their lands." Garrick laughs heartily. "No disrespect meant. Also be on the lookout for the Kankerata, it's a centaur word that means "world chewer" I believe. It is said to live in the plains east of Varnhold. Nobody's ever lived to see it and report what it was. Hopefully, you will have better luck. Bring me a souvenir, if possible, if you meet it. Spiders have been reported also, as well as undead further south. Mind your swords mates, you will need them!" Garrick ends his discourse and finishes his drink in one gulp.
Lord Aroden thoroughly enjoys the meal. He spends most of it chatting up his hostess, Victoria Carrigan.
After the meeting he listes to Victoria's and Garrick's speeches.
"Ambassador Carrigan, with your concern about the current political climate, I completely understand the concerns. I am here not just by your request, but with council and backing of the Crown of Toldar."
"You See", he said taking a sip of wine. "The Toldarian crown has interests again in colonization. Your country has a tremendous amount of untapped, wild resources. Taldor feels that mutually benefitial trade agreements could give the Emperor first chance at those resources, while offering you additional manpower and security."
He holds up a sealed scroll case, which is immidately taken by young William, who walks behind the table and hands it to Halsen, who hands it to Victoria.
"This is a letter of introduction from his majesty, Grand Prince Stavian III, Ruler of Taldor. It requests that King Surtova find time in the Spring to visit Taldor, as the Grand Prince's guest. At such time im sure the Senatorial members of Taldor will be happy to explain how Taldor and Kalendor can benefit of each other. During that time such items as formal recognition of Kalendor can be examine, which will certainly help your political relations amongst the kingdoms of the Inner Sea".
He smiles and nods politely to Garek Avery.
"Between now and then, I will be happy to offer the crown assistance in whatever way I can, as both Pegasus Knight of Iomedae, and Ambassador of Taldor. Given the unfortunate history with Taldor and the Centaurs, which is a history neither of us can change, I will be happy to Investigate this item for you with utmost quiet and discression."
"Why, thank your, Lord Aroden, I will make sure my King gets your letter and gives it its due attention." Victoria smiles at Lord Aroden as she takes a sip of her wine. When she puts the glass down, the smile is gone and she looks at Aroden with a steely glare and says, "Remember, Ambassador, this venture is under the auspices of the Kalendoran crown, so Kalendoran, not Taldoran, interests will be pursued. Is that clear? Please do not forget that in the field." As she finishes her sentence, the smile returns to her face, as she passes the letter to Garrick, who puts it away in the folds of his cloak.
Lord Aroden responds to the steely gaze with a flashing smile of strong white teeth and sparkling violet eyes. "It cannot be forgotten, Abmassador, for my charter is to serve Kalendor. I have no other interests. To fail Kalendor, would be to betray the trust the Grand Prince has placed in me".
"Let my service, though, speak louder than my words. And if we are able to solve this.... situation... for you. Your King and my Prince can discuss things on a further level. I assure you, that level of politics is much higher than my Rank."
"Out of curiosity, Besides his majesty, who where the origonal band of adventuerers that recieved the charter from the Dragon Throne?"
Victoria flashes a smile back with her emerald green eyes, "Good, I am glad we are in agreement then." She takes another sip of her wine. "The original adventurers were myself, Garrick, Sil the elven...procurer, yes that would be the word, Andrade, the priest of Erastil, and Kalen, our King. There were others whom we lost in battle and friends and allies whom we also gained. The life of the adventurer is full of joy and tragedy, is it not?
Politics, again. Is there no cure fer this foul and filthy disease? I be forced outta Mendev due to it, brought inta Brevoy aferrin it, now I'm off to ride ta the wilds unknownin wit it goin full gallop at me side. I fear Aracraka'll make more sense than the Taldoran and Nomen, ere the two do meet. Better ta serve the needs o' the gods, then whims and flimsies o' men. Leastwise the gods be speak'n less while the demanding prices all n all still the same.
Might I be askin', how soon are we ta be off and what 'official' concerns mite we be agivin'? If'n we find the Nomen not be apart of this mystery, what are yer King's orders in their regards? If these horsemen be part of the mess, do we have leave to pursue the Lady's Justice? Demons and beasties I hae nae concern wit a'killin. Men and learneds, even horsie halves they be, I hae nae desire to be killin' witout a cause.
"Ah, a man with a purpose, I like it. I hope you will be off tomorrow in the morn, with the fates of a hundred villagers hanging in the balance, I wish you off post haste. Garrick and I will be leaving in the morn for Kalendar to inform our King that you have accepted the venture. We are preparing charters as we speak, authorizing you to act on behalf of his Majesty, Kalen Surtova. Waiting on all of you to accept first."
"As for the centaurs, we hope they are not involved, no aggressions have come from their tribe toward Varnhold during the past year so we do not suspect them, but anything is likely. If they are responsible, the charters will authorize you to use any force necessary to punish those responsible. Use your best judgment."
"Speakin' of that, there are 2 routes you may follow to Varnhold. One is east, following the banks of the Shrike River west and then the Kiravoy river south. This is by far the safest route, it will take you across established trade routes. The other route is directly SW across the plains, bordering the Dunsward, the Nomens' ancestral land. It is shorter, will shave 2-3 days off your journey but will be a heck of a lot more dangerous, just my 2 cents."
Lord Aroden smiles.
"While more than happy to accept such a request, I have affairs at my Embasy to take care of before I can leave in the morning. My second in command needs to be informed of my absence, and Squire William here needs to be put to bed."
"As for the route, I would deferr to one who is more knowledgable about the surrounding countryside than myself, either Commander Omanera, The Woodsman LaMancha or Sage Maltisse. I dont know this territory well"
"What level of provisions will we be provided for this journey?"
An ancient Cyclops empire? Interesting...
Skerrin raises a hand.
"If I may interject, Ambassador?"
"My understanding is that you have lost contact with one of your outlying settlements. You are currently stretched a little thin, and it is... politically expedient to have independent contractors deal with the situation, rather than appealing to Restov for assistance; correct?
He then inclines his head to acknowledge Garrick.
"From what you say, the local centaurs have suffered greatly over the years. If were to encounter them, we would have to tread lightly. I would recommend that we take some sort of diplomatic gift - is there anything that you know they particularly prize, Garrick?"
"Is the danger from the Centaur lands from the Centaurs themselves, or from other inhabitants? If the former, and they are not responsible for the fate of Varnhold, gaining their assistance could prove useful, so passing through their lands could not only enable us to shave time off our journey, but also offer the opportunity for a diplomatic mission."
Regarding Lord Aroden's attire...
"If the Centaurs have suffered a lot at the hands of the Taldans, I agree that you should probably not dress quite so boldly, Lord Aroden, if we wish to foster a harmonious relationship with them; there is no point opening old wounds without cause."
"Also, Garrick, you mentioned undead; exactly what sort of undead have been encountered in the lands south of here?"
Regarding when to commence the expedition...
"I agree that time is of the essence... losing contact with an entire settlement is quite troubling. If they are in danger, we need to get moving as soon as possible. However, I would like to pick-up a few scrolls for the journey before we leave."
Bwana listens quietly throughout the post-meal discussion. He nods along to some of the questions asked of their hostess. Eventually he says his piece in a lull in conversation.
'Lady. I will pledge. To take this task. To its end. Is the village, on old centaur land? Haunted or cursed? Perhaps? Long dead centaur. Rather than recent?'
"What level of provisions will we be provided for this journey?"
"We can provide you with riding horses, if any of you need them. We will also provide you with another 1000 gp each for supplies and such. The final 2000 gp will be provided to you upon successful completion and proof that the settlement is safe and those responsible have been brought to justice."
An ancient Cyclops empire? Interesting...
"My understanding is that you have lost contact with one of your outlying settlements. You are currently stretched a little thin, and it is... politically expedient to have independent contractors deal with the situation, rather than appealing to Restov for assistance; correct?
Victoria responds: "We cannot appeal to Restov for assistance due to the political climate but everything else is correct."
"From what you say, the local centaurs have suffered greatly over the years. If were to encounter them, we would have to tread lightly. I would recommend that we take some sort of diplomatic gift - is there anything that you know they particularly prize, Garrick?"
Garrick responds: "Gift? Bah, I know nothing of gifts or diplomacy, but the centaurs are a tribal people, and the Kankerata terrorizes their lands. Were you to kill it, it would earn you some modicum of respect, at least in their eyes, I believe."
"Also, Garrick, you mentioned undead; exactly what sort of undead have been encountered in the lands south of here?"
Garrick responds, "I have not seen them personally but the reports we have received speak of corporeal undead, zombies, wights, and the such. It appears there are many graveyards scattered throughout the Nomen Heights."
'Lady. I will pledge. To take this task. To its end. Is the village, on old centaur land? Haunted or cursed? Perhaps? Long dead centaur. Rather than recent?'
"Varnhold borders some old centaur rangelands but is not physically on any lands. Prior to his loss of communication, we never heard of any problems with the colony. If it's a ghost of a long dead centaur, as you surmise, why attack now and not during the past year? I guess these are questions you will need to answer during your investigation."
Skerrin brightens considerably when he realises that there might be evidence of a long-lost, pre-Earthfall civilization in the area!
This is intriguing. It seems that this task may have some side benefits to it... Hopefully, if we come across something, I will be able to convince my companions to spend a little time exploring...
Turning to observe the others at the table, Skerrin ponders his future companions, eyeballing Lord Aroden especially...
Of course, some of them may be more difficult to convince than others...
"We can provide you with riding horses, if any of you need them. We will also provide you with another 1000 gp each for supplies and such. The final 2000 gp will be provided to you upon successful completion and proof that the settlement is safe and those responsible have been brought to justice."
Skerrin sips thoughtfully from his glass as the ambassador outlines the terms of the arrangement, and then nods.
"I can agree to those terms. I should be able to make the necessary preparations tomorrow morning, and be ready to depart by noon."
Garrick responds: "Gift? Bah, I know nothing of gifts or diplomacy, but the centaurs are a tribal people, and the Kankerata terrorizes their lands. Were you to kill it, it would earn you some modicum of respect, at least in their eyes, I believe."
"Well then, it sounds as if finding and defeating it would be a worthwhile secondary objective."
Garrick draws this quick map and says you can go west to Nikvata, following the river, then south along the river to Varnhold or diagonally across to Varnhold.
Lord Aroden examines the map. "If time is of the essence, I suggest we go by the fastest route possible. Whatever 'Dangers' may be in place, I am sure Iomedae will provide us protection from, or force of arms to overcome."
He looks at the rest of the assembled adventurers. "What say you?"
Augusto places his hat back on his head, then reaches into his jacket, producing a Small leather bound book. He takes a few notes, and places the book back in his jacket
"Well, my time in his area has been short, Erastil only requested my Aid for the village a few short weeks ago. Alass, I cannot rightfully comment on the best path to take. I can however, suggest we make haste, and get to Varnhold as quickly as we can. If the Settlement is in danger of Centaurs, or worse, then we have no time to spare. The terms are agreeable, as an Inquisitor of Erastil, I will do my best, if not more, to help solve this situation. My sword is at your command"