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"I do like the image," Fibula says, "I could tell you were tall, I could tell by the direction of your voice, but knowing the rest of the features helps. I'm afraid being blind means I must rely on my other senses to explore my world. Touch has been quite useful to me but also sound. You can't imagine how wonderful the opera is for me and how much it vexes me to hear the other ladies in box talking about the dresses. I know the other pathfinders rely on sight first and foremost, but I've had naught but success on retrieval missions relying on touch, sound, and taste. Though Kreighton Shaine has since asked me not to lick any more tomes."
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My dear Cordelia it seems I have been away for just a moment and so much has occured. Trivial matters can sometimes take up so much of a nobleman's time. No matter, I am in esteemed Taldan company once more.
I am ready now to meet with the Taldan ladies who you have recommended. My time is yours, and of course theirs. I wondered if you had had a reply to your sending?
Fibula Bone I think that touch is a marvellous sense, but perhpas not so well suited in polite company. Although in your case, I think that many fair-minded Taldan gentlemen would understand.
Sound is a sensation and the tones of a dulcet Taldane voice in the Opera take me to a harmonious heaven. Talk in the boxes is not really fair to the audience or the performers. I am horrified to think that your performance might have been spoiled. Perhaps it was Chelaxian opera?
Taste, well there are some days when I am so engrossed in my studies that I forget eating and yet that only refreshes my palate for the next meal. In fact, my tastes are what can lead me into trouble and temptation, but enough of that. I do agree with Kreighton though, in most cases tomes are not for licking.
The true delight is to blend the senses. To use all to their fullest in a sensory feast. That is a meal I would devour with gusto.
Yours are the shores that I dream of.
Yours are the people that I love.
You are the home that I cherish.
And yet alas, my curse is that I am too often far away.
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"It's been my experience that the ladies in the box seating only attend the opera and theater to be seen not to listen to the show. Usually I'm able to drone them out though. I think I'd rather have general admission in the future, the few times I attended as part of a society mission we had floor seating and the people there seemed less interested in gossip and more interested in the show. However I've been told that box seating is the only way to go. It is more convenient, spacious, and comfortable, but I'd rather hear the start of the show then arrive fashionably late.
"And as to the taste of tomes: artificial aging agents like tea or vinegar leave a taste even after the sent has been washed away. Some papers are made with different fibers. I may not be able to tell a forgery as surely as an expert but when pressed for time a simple taste can tell me more then one might think. Forgers usually only concentrate on making the books look right after all."
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My dear Cordelia it seems I have been away for just a moment and so much has occured. Trivial matters can sometimes take up so much of a nobleman's time. No matter, I am in esteemed Taldan company once more.
I am ready now to meet with the Taldan ladies who you have recommended. My time is yours, and of course theirs. I wondered if you had had a reply to your sending?
*Cordelia smiles.*
"I have excellent news Ottavio--both of the ladies in whom you are interested have agreed to meet you. The time and place are right here," she replies, handing Ottavio a handwritten note with two locations and times.
(OOC: Yep--there's technically not a wife vanity, but a wife could perform the role of several of them. Seneschal is probably the most apropos, but a wife might serve as a Foreign Contact or as a Chronicler or perhaps even Herald (if she often gossips about her husband's accomplishments))
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Thank you again. I tell you how things turn out. Not too much though.
Well Fibula, your tasting and licking abilities will no doubt find their place. My advice - if you you have a talent, make it work for you.
And on the opera, while I love to watch and aspire to perform in an opera (although I am more the actor than the opera singer), and while idle gossip is not to my taste, sometimes the opera is not just about the opera. What you see is only a fraction of what is going on. On the stage of life, we are all performers.
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Ursus stifles a growl as the noble Ottavio moves in on his prey.
"You mention touch being a powerful sense for you", the big Ulfen says. "Let me help improve your mental image more."
Kneeling down, the Northman takes her hand within his own and guides her to feel his features; from his cheekbones, to the hard lines of his square jaw, to the thick braid of his beard.
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Ah Ursus, we need folk like you in Taldor. You are the strong arm and blunt words that stand when finesse and diplomacy fail.
Be well Northman.
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"I rather like this beard," Fibula says as she runs her hands across his lower face, "Very nice. I'm told I'm quite beautiful as well, and I have used this trait to my advantage on several missions, but sadly many of the people I've met on my journeys have been put off by my blindness. In the north the Skald speaking Ulfen said I should have been left on a snow drift as a baby, which I thought was odd because I wasn't blind as a baby. To the south the natives of the Mwangi Expanse said I should have been sent to be claimed by the jungle. I've even been jeered in some of the so called civilized nations of the inner sea. I find it disconcerting. Truthfully I'm far from helpless, although Pharasma has chosen to take my sight I'm not at all disadvantaged or saddened. She has given me something I like to call sight beyond sight. Gone are the beautiful colours of the world but I function as well in the light as I do in the dark. I sometimes feel shapes, and sense swords, and smell blood. You wouldn't guess it but I'm capable with a sword and have dispatched no less then five opponents through martial prowess alone. I am of course far more deadly with my spells though.
"I thank you for your kind words Ottavio," Fibula says to something to the left of the rogue, "I should think being a mystery is akin to being a marvel? It is much better to be a marvel or a mystery then a pariah I must say!"
Fibula pauses, frowns, and then taps her nose as if remembering something:
"I wouldn't want to be too interesting though, in Taldor politics that sort of thing can get you killed. It's suitable here thankfully, we pathfinders cherish mystery, but please lets not spread any tales of the Oracle Fibula Bone amongst the nobles back home. I'm in the process of reclaiming some ancestral land and I wouldn't want to make my appearance back into Taldor society too soon."
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Fibula you under-rate yourself. You are a mystery and a marvel no doubt.
But no further word of your materious or marvelous nature will be spoken for fear of causing you danger.
It is a pleasure conversing with you. I hope that our Northman friend has finished using your hand to scratch his nose. We will no doubt speak again soon.
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"I enjoyed our conversation as well," Fibula says facing Ottavio directly, her nearly white eyes seeming to stare through him, "And perhaps we might one day work together. It's always so much more reassuring when I have a set of eyes I can trust."
"He of course jests Ursus," Fibula says turning in the general direction of the northman, "Your gesture was much appreciated. I have a good image of you in my mind now."
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Ursus all but ignores the blustering noble.
"He of course jests Ursus," Fibula says turning in the general direction of the northman, "Your gesture was much appreciated. I have a good image of you in my mind now."
"No doubt he is", the Ulfen says dismissively.
The big northman releases Fibula's hand and leans in to whisper.
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"My father's side of the family was said to have Ulfen blood," Fibula continues after briefly conversing with the northmen, "Blond hair is almost unheard of amongst my mother's side of the family, but my father's side have a least half a dozen fair haired men and women dotting the dusty old portraits in the ancestral home. I had little chance to get to know the people when I traveled through the lands owned by the Linnorm Kings, I got to experience them in battle, but very little of the music or the culture. My time in Ustalav taught me the language but little of the culture."
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What Fibula says seems to placate the big Ulfen, for now. He nods in understanding but grins all the same.
"Well if you're lucky, the Society will send you up there for work", he says waving a server over for more mead. "I was up in Trollheim just last year - back when that Shadow Lodge business was underway."
"This year our masters seem to only have interest for the east. Perhaps in the coming months they'll turn their gaze back northward again."
"Just be careful if you do make it up to the frozen north. The lives my people lead, make us a bit superstitious. At first glance they might make you for a jadwiga based on the trappings of your goddess."
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"Well I did have a few axes thrown at me," Fibulia notes, "And ranged weapons always give me problems. I can usually feel someone close, I can sense someone as far away as thirty paces, but usually the first time I notice an arrow is when it ricochets painfully off my skin . . . if I'm lucky. Sometimes I don't get the chance to activate Pharasma's blessings.
"And yes, I too had pathfinder business in Trollheim, nasty stuff, the trail even led us right into the seat of the Jadwiga themselves."
"The rumors I've heard have us focusing on Korvosa and Magnimar, which does suit me fine, I traveled much of Varisia growing up and Korvosa and Magnimar are two cities that I remember seeing. And I do mean seeing with my eyes. Blindness took me long before I came to work for the pathfinders but Varisia is a place I'm not only familiar with but have actually seen."
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"Magnimar has the ruins of a massive bridge," Fibula muses as she stares off into space, "So large that you could build a town just on the bits that remain. When it still stood you must have been able driven dozens of carts side by side to wherever it went. The Thassilon must have been amazing architects. There were also ruins in Korvosa, not nearly as impressive mind you, but the kings palace sat atop a half a pyramid or a ziggurat, and this wasn't a small palace. I don't recall if those were also Thassilon ruins but I can't imagine them being anything else. For the most part the people were nice enough, though they didn't care for the traveling folk so much, but they seemed very no nonsense hard working type. Very much like most people in that part of the world."
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Sitting in a corner nursing a large mug of ale, the Dwarf keeps his perceptive ears perked. The Lady Gloriana's missive had mentioned the importance of this far off land. Words like Thassilon and Korvosa just sound as foreign as Orcish to his ears. However, a ruined massive bridge or the ruins of a palace might benefit from study by a practiced Dwarven mason.
But as he tries to remember his training on correctly crafting arched bridges, his mind can't shake the ditty the Viscount had spoken. It wasn't the first time he had heard Ottavio's gilded words, and those poems seemed to stick in his mind. The thoughts of hammering and poetry slowly merge in his thoughts, until a rhythm incorporating both jumble together.
His lips let forth a soft chant, as he imagines the clang of his hammer against the heated, glowing metal on the anvil:
Taldor clang! as a flower, clang! a sweet smelling rosey clang!
Taldor clang! as a beasty, clang! a noble growling lion clang!
Taldor clang! as a feeling, clang! a strong swelling passion clang!
Taldor clang! as the utmost, clang! the thorns, claws, and fervor clang!
Taldor clang! as the gilded, clang! the crown of the Inn'r Sea clang!
Taldor clang! men and women, clang! now rise your time is now clang!
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Sitting in the middle of the room, the outsider cleric sips on his meed, while looking around as he hears the lady Gloriana words, and he doesn't really understand, after he joined the ranks of Taldor, he felt that he would fit in better then the world he knew but he never really knew his place in-till this day, he knew that every adventurer would be sent to these places, and may never return, like his kin before him. he wonders when will be a day of mediation and not war, but as he hears the others talking around him, he wonders out loud, are there no one that wishes, to be heard or his this meeting, truly chaos?
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A bronzed-skinned man in the latest noble's outfit with a finely trimmed goatee and slightly dour but incredibly serious expression seems to have reacted badly to the statements surrounding Baron Jacquo. He perks up a bit and approaches Fibula's table once there is a pause in the conversation, so as not to be an interruption.
"Greetings, Miss Bone, I am Baronet Hernando Ruiz, Taldan Knight of the Shield. I find it a shame you were not amongst my regular travel companions," the man states as he sits with these new acquaintances. "Those Venture Captains always did seems to like pairing me with the same individuals who only made moderate use of my talents."
"And Mr. Ursus," he say as he turns to the Ulfen, "Is there a title or honorific you prefer? I have dealt very little with the Ulfen Guard." He sees your strong motions and toned stature. "You remind me very much of one of my regular traveling companions. Some of similarities and physical motions are uncannily similar. Do you happen to know any dwarves? Perhaps a Redhammer? A bit unclean, wants to wrestle all the time, Grey Corsair? If you did meet him, he most likely told you a story about Kaer Maga and a very specific brothel..." Hernando trails off and loses enthusiasm more further he's gotten into the topic.
He loses himself in thought for a second and turns back to Fibula. "I am quite curious as well, as I did very little travel in Varisia. I only hope the Society decides to put my skills to use once again. What are the lands there like?"
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He loses himself in thought for a second and turns back to Fibula. "I am quite curious as well, as I did very little travel in Varisia. I only hope the Society decides to put my skills to use once again. What are the lands there like?"
"Varisia is beautiful country," Fibula says, smiling in the general direction of Ruiz, "I grew up in Ustalav but came of age in Varisia. The mountains and quiet scared villages of Ustalav have nothing on the vibrant flowing lands of Varisia. All the colours I remember were brightest in Varisia. The trees were taller, greener, and you never felt danger in their shade. The people seemed wilder, full of life, and far more open and friendly in Varisia. I have many fond memories there. I also loved the sounds when my eyes no longer shared the sights. The cities are loud and bustling, perhaps even more then many of the other great cities I've visited. Certainly I liked the sounds of Magnimar more so then Oppara or Absalom, but then Magnimar doesn't have high opera, and so I'd say Absalom and Oppera are gems if you have money, but Magnimar was a city of the common man. I think I'd liken the sound to that of opportunity."
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Hernando attempts to return the handshake with one of similar style.
"Despite my skills as an orator, I do not think I would do the story justice," Hernando says as he shakes his head. "I shall send missive to Ridgar to arrive at his next leisure. All this talk of the Baron gives me a need to drink, and Ridgar's the best I've known." Hernando motions to a barmaid to deliver a newly-written letter, tells her the name "Johnathan," hands her a gold coin and the message, and turns back to the table. "His personal island is not very far away, and he does love his seafaring. Surely, the idea of someone interested in the tale of the White Lady will be worth the trip. It must have been a good while now since he's needlessly told someone that horribly inappropriate tale."
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*Some time later, a horrible sight staggers through the door. It's a dwarf, hair mangled and unkempt, beard tangled and crusted with stale beer. His red dragonhide breastplate is besmerched with spashes of red of a darker hue, particularly around several protruding metal spikes. moments after he enters, a smell fouler than his appearance wafts in. It's a terribly odd mix of old beer, stale blood, and briney seawater.*
"RIDGAR REDHAMMER'S HERE TA LIVEN THINGS UP A BIT!" he booms in a drunken roar. "Hernando, I just got yer letter! Pleasent supprize I'd be in town resupplyin the Busty Barmaid when ya sent it! Saved me a hell of a lot of sailin! Yah say there's someone who wants to hear mah story bout the time I ^&%^$ed a dead chick?!"
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"Yes, my new Ulfen friend would like to hear it." Hernando motions over to the table. "But, please, do try to keep yourself somewhat in check. Preferably no fights this time. This is a proper Taldan establishment, and you are here on my request. Out of an Abadarian's fairness, though, I will offer a paid trip to a different bar of your choosing should you not bring any unneeded blights to my name here," he says, as he motions to order for a round for the table.
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"HAHA!! Decent?! I've wrestled things twenty fold larger than me! I've choked out a Minotaur prince who was stupid enough to enter his own maze with me. I've grappled with massive fire elementals and demons in flight, and I've won too! But that ain't the story yah wanted to hear!"
The dwarf plops down at a nearby seat.
"Yeah, if yer ever in Kaer Maga, be sure to look for this one brothel. The White Lady, or Afterlife, or Hereafter....some bloody aligory for death or whatever rubbish. Ya see, in Kaer Maga the law's as thin as a pixie's weenie, so the establishments cater to all types. This brothel is particular in that half or more of the broads are on the other side of the not bein dead line.
Standard brothel affair; the exotic ones run ya higher than the common. Prices ain't so different than the livin type. The real trick though is to tip them an extra ten gold, get them to take off those magic collars that keep em seddated. That's where the real fun is!"
He grins broadly.
"Best time I've ever spent in a wrestlin hold with the undead, if ya know what I mean.
One other tip too. If ya have somethin like this," he pats a jeweled amulet around his neck "it's best ya take it off. They get a might angry when you blow up the entertainers with yer *&^*&%!"
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Ursus roars with laughter as the dwarf tells his story.
He takes a draw of his drink and replies.
"I've crushed my own share of monsters; giant minotaurs, four-armed tentacle beasts, and even a dragon or two. But we're not here to compare @$#&^", he says with a laugh.
"Kaeg Maga sounds like a grand place. I should make plans to visit some time. Have you ever been up north, to Trollheim or further?"
"My people love a good scrap. You wouldn't have trouble finding some good challengers up there."
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"I believe the coldest terrain we've encountered was the mountainous reaches of Galt," Hernando chimes in. "Unless they've given you more tasks than I, of course."
"The Ten seem very intent on sending all the new recruits to Irrisen at least twice in their careers, though. I don't say I envy them. At that level of tenure, my armour was not as adaptively comfortable as it is now, and would simply have been more of an hindrance than a boon."
"But I can attest to Ridgar's ability to hold foes. It had become such a regular event on our missions that the cultist at the end of every tunnel or the demon in the last summoning circle was almost tedious. The third part of our offensive team isn't here. I dare say, I wouldn't even know where to send missive to her. Do you? She was always so difficult to read." Hernando seems to think to himself a bit.
"The largest enemy I've seen you succeed to grapple was that scorpion in the desert, was it not? It may have only been for a moment or two, but it was still quite a feat."
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"Hah! Never to those wintery climates, but me and Hernando did do one mission up in the Worldwound. Had to swim through quicksand draggin half the party on a tether while the other half got sucked up by a twister! Think that was the one where the giant scorpion snagged Hernando. Ya shoulda seen it! Big ol beastie has Hernando pinched up in one claw and you know what he says to it? he cries out 'I am Hernando Ruiz, Taldan Kight of the Shield!' and chucks his trident at it!"
Ridgar lets out a hearty laugh.
"Hernando may be a bit of a stick in the mud, but ya gotta give him credit. The man has balls of steel. Hell, I can't tell you the times he's pulled us out of a scrap!"
He drinks heavily, missing his mouth more than a bit. Cocking his thumb back at Hernando:
"Yah may have heard the rumours that he stood up to a barrage of arrows, most of them bouncing helplessly off his armor except for one would-be-death blow that he smacked harmlessly away. Well let me tell ye, them rumours are true! I was there, and saw it happen. Stupid archers shoulda aimed for the kellid b#%&!. And it ain't like that woulda helpped them much! Hernando just steps in front of the bloody things! There was this one time if my dumb*&(^$* brother wasn't such a dumb*&(^$* he wouldn't have taken a single blow. But get this, my moron of a brother walks AWAY from Hernando Ruiz, Taldan Knight of the Shield as the great demon undead genie thing fires on him!"
Ridgar shakes his head.
"Baldrick never was the smart one..."
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"Nonsense. I do not act out of valor. I simply do what I must. I am a knight of the Shield, and that means I am to protect that which needs protection," Hernando responds proudly. "That was, more often than not, Miss Genie. She never did get anything better than those old horn-covered leathers, did she? 'The best defense is a good offense' with that one."
He then looks to Ridgar and says, "I believe they were javelins I was throwing in that combat. I never once left the Lodge without at least 10. Even now, even though I had my trident enchanted to return to me. I was not going to yet another one, especially after I had this one's barbs to reference the Crown."
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"Yeah, that scorpion was the largest, but deffinately not the meanest. I think that demon with the soul-suckin sword or that red man with the axe we fought on that covert mission were probably the toughest."
Ridgar stops and thinks.
"Nah, I don't have a bloody clue where Jean is nowadays. Ya think after retirin she'd do merc work for a while. Then again, she was suprizingly bookish for a girl who's solution to everah problem was ta cut it in two! Maybe she's archievin for the Ten? Who knows?"
He finishes the rest of his drink in one fell swoop.
"Speakin of retired Pathfinders, its time I be gettin back to mah ship. Those Cheish slave galleys ain't gonna plunder themselves!"
Giving a hearty handshake to Ursus, "Nice ta meet yah. If I eva get hit a dry spell in Chelish marks, I may just have ta head up to Trollheim with yah. Maybe you an me can go wrangle us a Linnorm, make proper kings for ourselves!" He laughs.
Clasping Hernando in a tight man-hug, "Good tah see ya again, Hernando. One of these days we otta get the ol gang back together. I'm sure the Ten have some suicidal request that can only be handled by the Society's finest. It'll be just like old times!"
Ridgar stops at the door and pauses for a moment.
"Ya know, you Taldans ain't so bad. Ain't matter what they say about ya." and he departs.
a plain looking half elf in an expensive nobles outfit wanders in and takes a seat.
Good evening all viscount Arhra at your service
it has been a while since I had any work, in there anything of interest afoot?
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a plain looking half elf in an expensive nobles outfit wanders in and takes a seat.
Good evening all viscount Arhra at your serviceit has been a while since I had any work, in there anything of interest afoot?
it has said that our king, has problems, and so our empire, perhaps, if we work together we can talk to our king, and ask that our people can have a voice, and maybe we can understand the way of each nature together!