Elen continues the conversation with Pinwheel for a few minutes as she fills her tea strainer with a mix of tea leaves, herbs and chocolate shavings from her tin, then brews it up in a pink teapot with a black cat face drawing retrieved from her pack. She fills a pint-sized mug with a bunny on it for herself, and her sleepy familiar climbs out of her robe to take a shot-glass-sized mug of her own, sitting on the elf's shoulder.
The conversation she is hearing from the table where the drow and minotaur and others are sitting is making her ears perk up, so she takes her leave of the machinist and tiptoes over, the fortifying content of the tea giving her a bit more courage to pull her Wayfinder, with a dusky rose prism Ioun stone embedded, from under her robe to hang around her neck, matching the badge of office the other pathfinders are wearing.
Lavinia will take her food and drink over to the table the drow officer is sitting at and settles herself into one of the chairs. "I would be fascinated to hear a first-hand account of the battle. Did you have any maps made of the parts of the city your platoon saw?"
Pat looks over at the pale-skinned woman so pale she could almost pass as one of my race, she thinks briefly. "I wish I could say yes. One of the worst, or maybe the best thing about the siege is that, other than a group of 50 or so paladins and knights, not a single one of us ever touched foot inside the city itself. The city was abandoned just as we were finally making progress." Pat takes a moment to let that all sink in.
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"I have lived nearly four centuries, and I'll live at least four more, Sarenrae grant. But in all that time, I will never have seen such a terrible place as Tsar. The things that the damnable "Grand Cormu" threw at us I still can't describe in a sober frame of mind." Saying that, Pat took a pull from her flagon, almost draining it in two gulps. She signals for more, the cook knowing that the drink would need to keep coming until she had to be practically carried out.
"They...those outside of Mendev, that is, called that first Crusade 'the Army of Light.' It was anything but holy and light, I can tell you. Perhaps it was that way at first; General Zelkor certainly had the priests and oracles out, blessing everyone within sight." Pat drains her flagon as the new one is set down. She seems lost in thought as Raelc wonders how fast he can get the lt. another flagon before she becomes maudelin. Judging by the rapt faces, he thinks, it's probably already too late.
I have seen this more than once before - the truth of Mendev and its environments is not always easy to take in - drinking can be a welcome escape from the oppressing reality of life around this place. I thank Lagash and our nighttime treks through the wilds for my sanity - how many nights have those kept me from the drink or from just running away from here...?
Knowing that one such as a drow would be so affected by the corruption of the Worldwound, only serves as confirmation for much of what Calendir has learned during the past months of scouting this hellhole - as hidden as it may be, the army , as much as the common folks of the region have been slowly drifting into desperation - it is insidious, it seeps through your bones day in, day in.
Soon this one will be slipping herself into a dreamless torpor - He shakes his head at the feeble attempt of a reproach - It is of no use being numb girl, you need to be wide awake, to face the terror head on.
Bao replies to Domson's question with a smile, a nod, and extending two fingers. He continues to follow the Tien through the kitchens like a panther in pigs clothing.
With a push of a hidden switch, a wall panel opens before you and a small room, with table and chairs inside. Stepping in, you see that the walls are mostly covered with various military maps, some with stick pins, most without, adorning the walls. Nguyen motions you to have a seat. Moments later, the cook (Dumbson?) enters with tray and items for a proper tea ceremony. After placing the cups, saucers, and other items on the table (almost exactly where they belong, you notice), the cook leaves, allowing privacy to return.
"Domson may be a foreign devil, but he is quick to learn our ways, not to mention that he is an excellent cook. But do not listen to his prattling about how he is a great wizard as well, he is anything but."
After completing his portion of the tea ceremony, Nguyen speaks again. "So please, tell me of what you know so far about Tsar and its environs, and I will do my humble best to fill in the gaps."
Bao continues his portion of the tea ceremony attempting to memorize the maps and military markings. When appropriate, he replies in Tien. "I know very little. This is the furthest north that I've been on this continent. Of course, I've heard the odd adventurer's and commoner's tales, but I do not take much stock in them. Please give me all the information that you have about Tsar, its environs, and why we are particularly interested."
"Hmm, I see. Wait. Let me close this panel before we talk further."
Nguyen stands and walks to the door, peering out before...
"What manner of beasties were yas fightin'?" Rasso asks the Drow woman.
Trying to screw up her courage to ask a question, Elen listens carefully as she sips her tea, noticing the growing crowd around the drow, the minotaur, and others.
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The smell from Elen's tea fills Calendir's nostrils even amongst all the odors in the crowded room and he is momentarily distracted trying to identify it:
Knowledge (Nature):
Pinpointing each of the individual herbs (and chocolate) in the infusion, he drifts away mentally to places where he has been where these can be found. Hesitating for just a moment, he puts down his own mug of ale, and reaches for one of his belt pouches, dropping it on the table and producing from within several other, much smaller pouches.
Going through each one at a time, he pauses with one of them in hand - a delicate, thin paper wrap, roughly tied with a piece of cord. After smelling it deeply, he opens up the paper bag - within are several bulb like forms, each with size about a third of a closed fist - chosing one from within, he offers it to Elen in his open palm:
I have picked these up on my way here, a couple of months ago - they called my attention since they grew in a rocky patch, which is not usual for Red Bloom Tea. I can see that you relish tea flavors - you should try, it is quite surprising...
"If you never breached the city's walls what became of your unit?" the minotaur asked. "Beyond you, were there any other survivors?"
Ruul easily empties what remains of his drink while he awaits the drow's reply.
"I started the siege as a scout, but quickly rose so that I commanded about a dozen scouts under me. It was only a few months in when I achieved this position, far beneath where I am now within the army." Pat pauses to take a drink, then continues, while shifting her breastplate slightly away from her long neck.
"It's not that we couldn't go inside, while the gates held, there were no one left, alive or dead, I suppose, to man them. One night, the entire city simply decided to abandon the city and flee. General Zelkor decided to follow, leaving only those I mentioned, and some other contingency plans in place, to secure both the city and the temple.
"As for survivors, there were plenty, although at least twice our original numbers likely died during the year or so siege. Three from my unit survived, but they were tasked to follow the refugees. I was returned to the Camp because of some injuries that I incurred. Since those three were humans, I would be very surprised if they were still alive.
"I am sure that you will be told a lot when you meet with your peers within the Society in the next day or so. I do know for a fact that the Venture-Captain is off on some exploration of his own, so it will be one of his flunkies that will meet with you. He has a title, but he will insist on just being called John. He is a nice fellow, and he'll inform you a lot about both the Camp that you will likely bivouac from and Gundrun. But he won't tell you everything."
At this point, the cook returns with a tray full of drinks and food, all of which is balanced atop a glowing disk. Pat pushes the bowl of soup put in front of her, stating, "I've already eaten tonight, Raelc, give this to someone else." She then reaches out to grab a flagon off of the tray. Raelc grabs it back, but procures a different one for her. "It's this one, sweetest.". Pat procures a platinum piece for the cook, saying "If is Society, then their money is no good here tonigh'." Realc nods in understanding and leaves.
"Hmm, I see. Wait. Let me close this panel before we talk further."
Nguyen stands and walks to the door, peering out before...
** spoiler omitted **
"Tsar is a mystical place, but not one that would make one want to stay there. It is said that the Demon God Orcus still roams that place, looking for his lost temple. If he should ever find it, he will again loose demons upon the world. That being said, the devils that continue to pour out of the Worldwound might have something to say about that, but who argues with gods?
"There are actually three entrances into the city, although face in one general area." Nguyen pulls out a sheet of paper and begins drawing. Before long, what you see is what you guess is the marker for Tsar, with mountains directly (on top of?) behind it. In front of the city, facing east, are three gates, one appearing NE, another due E, and the last to the SE. In the bottom right corner, Nguyen draws another, smaller symbol and writes "Camp" next to it. He then draws an arrow to the SE and writes "Gundrun." His map scale indicates that this "Camp" is perhaps 20-25 miles SE of the gates.
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The front door jangles once again as another traveller enters. The lithe and graceful form befitting an acrobat and the exquisite features often found in opera maestros mingle together, encased in a shining carapace. This Quadiran warrior is an exotic mix of silk and steel.
Numair stands like a sculpture carved from honeyed marble. Dark curls frame his graceful face, complete with piercing black eyes and a shining smile. His oiled, olive-skinned arms cross in front of his gleaming breastplate. His scimitar hangs in its scabbard, ready at a moment's notice. A tasseled orange rope belt secures his red pantaloons, and golden slippers sheathe his feet. Careful eyes can pick out several emblems in the golden embroidery on his sleeves: the sigils of Quadira and the Grand Lodge, and the symbol of Sarenrae the Dawnflower.
His eyes scan over the room's occupants, and settle on the unusual group gathered around the drow. He appraises each in turn: the hulking Minotaur, the briny fish-man, the brooding orc-blood, the pale woman and her daughter, the pair of elves.
Approaching the table, he gracefully inserts himself into the group, and waits for an opportunity to introduce himself.
Numair Nejem, Pathfinder and Blade Dancer extrordinaire, at your service. What a splendid day to be meeting you all.
"Most importantly, why are we particularly interested in this city? What knowledge or material will I be seeking to outweigh the cost of risking a close encounter of the Orcus-kind?"
"Second, where does your map here fit with these regional maps on the wall? How far are we to Gundrun, and how far is the camp from Gundrun? And do you foresee any military operations in this area?" He gestures to the wall.
"What is the nature and origin of this camp? Why is this area more secure than any other point?"
"Will I be a member of a team of operatives? If yes, how many and are there any conflicting agendas of which you are aware?"
"When was the last visitor of the city? And do we have any information about what differentiates and lay behind these three gates?"
"Is there any information about Orcus' temple? Where is it? What does it look like? And why can't he find it?"
Gronk is listening in as best he can on the conversations about Tsar. He says quietly to anyone's attention he can get...
Past unprovidential but be not important. Has happened be not changing. Future be not important. Not be future. All be ending.
Belike now important. Must do what can be to make now better for all. What is of Tsar in now that we can change to better now for all?
Going through each one at a time, he pauses with one of them in hand - a delicate, thin paper wrap, roughly tied with a piece of cord. After smelling it deeply, he opens up the paper bag - within are several bulb like forms, each with size about a third of a closed fist - chosing one from within, he offers it to Elen in his open palm:I have picked these up on my way here, a couple of months ago - they called my attention since they grew in a rocky patch, which is not usual for Red Bloom Tea. I can see that you relish tea flavors - you should try, it is quite surprising...
Upon being addressed by a stranger, Elen gives a queer sort of "Eep!" in surprise as her already-tanned face darkens further with a blush. She is momentarily overcome with social anxiety, but then the foot-tall fey-like azata perched on her shoulder chuckles and with a roll of her minuscule eyea, gives Elen a light slap on the cheek and hisses into her ear, "Thank him you silly thing!" She turns to the imposing half-orc and in a musical voice, says "Please excuse my companion, good sir, she is a little shy."
Elen finds her voice, murmuring her thanks to the man and taking the exotic flower, carefully stowing it in her tins of tea ingredients. "If you please, my name is Elen, might I have yours?"
Past unprovidential but be not important. Has happened be not changing. Future be not important. Not be future. All be ending.
Belike now important. Must do what can be to make now better for all. What is of Tsar in now that we can change to better now for all?
The lyrakien nestled against Elen's neck mutters in her ear, "Ugh. Nihilists. I hate nihilists. I mean, say what you want about the tenets of Asmodeianism, darling, at least it's an ethos." Elen shushes her.
After exchanging names with the ranger, Elen turns to see the newest arrival in the tavern. At the sight of the blade dancer, she gives a gasp of recognition, and hurries through the crowd to greet him. Her shyness seems to evaporate when she is speaking to someone she knows well.
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Going through each one at a time, he pauses with one of them in hand - a delicate, thin paper wrap, roughly tied with a piece of cord. After smelling it deeply, he opens up the paper bag - within are several bulb like forms, each with size about a third of a closed fist - chosing one from within, he offers it to Elen in his open palm:I have picked these up on my way here, a couple of months ago - they called my attention since they grew in a rocky patch, which is not usual for Red Bloom Tea. I can see that you relish tea flavors - you should try, it is quite surprising...
Upon being addressed by a stranger, Elen gives a queer sort of "Eep!" in surprise as her already-tanned face darkens further with a blush. She is momentarily overcome with social anxiety, but then the foot-tall fey-like azata perched on her shoulder chuckles and with a roll of her minuscule eyea, gives Elen a light slap on the cheek and hisses into her ear, "Thank him you silly thing!" She turns to the imposing half-orc and in a musical voice, says "Please excuse my companion, good sir, she is a little shy."
Elen finds her voice, murmuring her thanks to the man and taking the exotic flower, carefully stowing it in her tins of tea ingredients. "If you please, my name is Elen, might I have yours?"
Calendir smiles at the elf's reaction - I am Calendir. Well met. - he extends his hand towards Elen.
Apologies if I was too abrupt, I noticed that you were preparing your tea with such caution, like someone who really appreciates it, and remembered those bulbs I had gathered so...
** spoiler omitted **
Second answer - You will be part of a group, unless I miss my guess, at least some of whom are already outside talking to the army officer. All of you (whomever is chosen that is) will travel via boat along the Sellen River to Gundrun. It is on the far side of the Worldwound from here. Gundrun is but a small town whose clanliege wishes to claim that it is part of the old Sarkosis empire from the last century. In reality, it is a few hundred people that are hanging on by threads to their existence. The clanliege prefers to spend his hours spinning takes rather than be the honorable warrior he might have once been.
About 50 miles to the northeast lies the place known as "The Camp." It was once a rear-line military base, used mostly for planning. It had some sort of strategic significance, but I am not sure what that was. It is still there and people live there now, but it is not a military site anymore. Should you go there, be very wise about who you speak to there. Yours won't be the first, nor the last group to try and plunder Orcus' wealth."
"It would appear that we are drawing quite a crowd of Society types here. We might have to..." Pat notices her sergeant motioning for her.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if you'll pardon me, I need to take care of this. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. We might need to take a backroom with so many hanging on my every word." With an impish grin, Pat moves off to talk to her subordinate for a few moments.
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As the bashful elf rushes up to greet him, Numair gives her a winning smile and replies in kind.
He obtains some fine wine, and switches to Taldane. A toast, to Venture-Captain Farouk!
As Lt. Ripley leaves, he slides smoothly into her seat. Thanks be to all of you for you kind words. As we all are here for the same purpose, I wish to inquire as to the skills we bring to this hunt. Specifically, as Drovan the Ox was not assigned to this mission with me, and I am in need of a new dancing partner. Have any of you studied Capa Ferro, Thibault, or Agrippa, and if so, are you interested in dueling?
Pinwheel munches a handful of bar snacks as she chats with the elven witch. "Nah, I'm not a gnome. I'm a human. But I share their proclivity for scientific inquiry." She wipes her hand on her robes and smacks her mouth. "These pretzels are making me thirsty."
Elen offers the gnome (she's now convinced Pinwheel is an unusually tall, human-like gnome who was raised by humans and thinks of herself as one) a mug of tea, finding a smaller one with a butterfly on it in her pack. "Science is the newfangled word, I always think of it as alchemy... can't leave the past behind so easily as you short-timers -- ack, no offense, I forgot sometimes people don't like that word." She cringes at her own social faux pas.
Calendir smiles at the elf's reaction - I am Calendir. Well met. - he extends his hand towards Elen.Apologies if I was too abrupt, I noticed that you were preparing your tea with such caution, like someone who really appreciates it, and remembered those bulbs I had gathered so...
"Oh, you are quite kind. Perhaps, um... if it's not too much trouble... and it's perfectly alright if it is... you could, later on, swap recipes and maybe ingredients with me?
As the bashful elf rushes up to greet him, Numair gives her a winning smile and replies in kind.
** spoiler omitted **
He obtains some fine wine, and switches to Taldane. A toast, to Venture-Captain Farouk!
Elen raises her mug.
She giggles madly at her own boldness.
"And if I am a rose, then perhaps I have my own thorns, and if you are a thorn, then perhaps you have a..." She is unable to finish her own double-entendre, dissolving into further giggling.
"Oh dear, I think I might have added a bit of flayleaf to that last batch of tea, I'm not usually this bold, or this giggly..."
She sighs and sips more tea anyway. "Ah, but only you, my friend, can light up a room just by entering, the way you have lit up this one."
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Not one for many words, for the most part, Calendir has been keeping to himself - the assembly is growing enormous, and even though he has been in the region for the past two months, he is now considering the possibility that the issue at hand may have much larger proportions than expected.
On the other hand, being as much a creature of action as contemplation, he has been aching to make a difference in this land - to push the fight further ahead and actually attempt to make a difference, and this may be the opportunity he has been waiting for...
Turning to Elen first he adds - It will be a pleasure - I have to admit I am not a big fan of tea myself, but I am curious and by now somewhat knowlegeable of Nature's offers - we will surely partake on this. If we ever manage to leave this place for the open air that is... I have a feeling that things will not be quite the same after we finish our conversation with Ripley...
At Numair's reference of dueling, Calendir's curiosity is piked - Well, I can hold my own in a tight spot, with a sword in hand, but I consider myself more of a long range combatant - maybe we can articulate tactics in that perspective?
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A tall elf in wizard robes makes his entrance. His lavender eyes take in his surroundings. His step is cat-like and graceful. His robes are exceptionally well made and to a trained eye denote his rank as a wizard in the order of Hellknights. A wayfinder hands prominently from his neck clear to all. A black raven sits on his right shoulder. His alert stare seeming to miss nothing and no one. He moves to a central location and settles into an open chair.
Suddenly something communicates to everyone in the room, all at once, without making a sound. In your minds you clearly hear in a deep almost booming voice Greetings. House Thrune has arrived. My master bids me introduce him. He is Hellknight Signifier Azaranut of Cheliax, servant to the Paracountess who finds value in the mission of the Pathfinders and sends her vassal to help ensure its success.
In acknowledgment of the introduction the elf lowers his hood and nods to those gathered. Greetings to you all. he says in a light and airy voice so very different from the one you heard in your heads.
Elen hisses in annoyance and her familiar cries out in pain as the mental message intrudes into their consciousnesses. The tiny outsider flutters over to the newcomer and in her piping, musical voice, harangues him: "You know, where I come from it's considered good manners to ask before you poke into someone's mind, unless you consider them an enemy! Well, I don't know, maybe devil-worshipers have different concepts of politeness than most people."
The fluttering, tiny figure seems to concentrate for a moment, then says, "Well, maybe not a devil-worshiper, but certainly allied to those who are." She flutters back to Elen's shoulder, who whispers to Numair:
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The crow on Azaraunt's shoulder regards the Lyrakien as he might prey.
The wizard is not evil, but the crow radiates moderate evil. In the familair's brain alone it hears We are not where you come from.
The Wizard, just about to sit, hears the offer from the Minotaur, shrugs, and decides to join him. He takes a single step towards the table and then, in an instant, is suddenly sitting with the bull-man. Somehow he crossed 15 or more feet instantly without a sound or gesture. The crow on his shoulder seems unphased by this movement. It appears you appreciate the value of a wizard, and I appreciate that. Might I have the honor of your name good sir. I would prefer to know with whom I drink.
After introductions Azaraunt manages to flag down a waitress and orders bottle of dry Varisian wine.
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He grins cheerfully at the minotaur, who must outweigh him three times over, and switches to a dramatic instructor voice.
The three I mentioned are dancing masters of unparalleled skill. It is their teachings on footwork and blade work that form the foundation for the Desert Dervish fighting style.
Reverting to his normal voice, he looks around and says earnestly, if there are those amongst you with the skill and the desire, I will teach you the basics that you may serve adequately as a dancing partner, a battle brother.
After several moments, all of you see the lieutenant walking back to your enlarged table. She looks down at all of you, almost as if seeing you for the first time. Her eyes are red and moist, as if she had been crying. With no seats available, Pat decides to stand for a bit.
"With so many of you heeding the call of the Lodge, I can see in part why the decision was made." Looking down for a moment, she continues. "I was told by my superiors that my request to join the expedition to Tsar has been denied. Again." Sighing, she looks up. "Show of hands, how many of you are actually part of the Society? I know of one already, but he is not yet among you."
Elen timidly raises a hand, while Ally jumps into the air and twirls around her, leaving a rainbow halo around the elf's head as she says excitedly, "Oh, us, we are! Well, my companion is anyway!"