Gherben is waiting for the foursome when they arrive, looking pleased at their punctuality.
"Good morning! Ready to go?"
Is that your preferred form of transportation?"
The trader has noticed the mule standing in the background.
"Why yes. Constant friend and companion, Xackeron the brilliant. We have survived many a strange trial together, often through luck and happenstance. He also makes life easy on my flimsy arms."
"I belive we are all here, we can talk and walk at the same time I think."
Show
assuming Malic has arrived IC
assuming Malic has arrived IC
Gherben gestures behind him, where several horses are tied to a post. A creaking sound announces the arrival of a coach as well, looming up out of the dark.
"That's my ride. Unless you need anything, we don't need to go by my house anymore either. I've arranged for the money to be delivered here."
"Your choice whether you ride a horse or you come along on the coach with your dwarven friend, Stranger. The donkey can come, but not if he needs to carry someone."
Leaving the masked man to decide the trader looks up at the sky to judge the hour.
"Should be here soon," he mutters under his breath.
"You never know if the story about coaches, cliffs, and prized horses are true." He explained, mostly to himself but also to the Dwarf. "And I would hate myself bitterly if I caused the death of a companion because I didn't think things through. If something should happen, could you cut the rope? I'm afraid I only really have a rapier."
"Here were are," Gherben says. "Money waits for no-one..."
"... so no-one should have to wait for money," the petite woman responds.
"Well met, Gherben. You have the writ?"
"Meet magister Arabella or the esteemed Garic's City Trade and Finance Company, men," the horse trader introduces her. They seem to know each other well, but Gherben clearly defers to the woman.
"I have the writ, magister."
He hands over a square piece of parchment. Arabella accepts it and makes a gesture, upon which it flares up briefly. The spell is too intricate to make out for Stranger, but it appeared divinatory in nature.
"Very well. It's a bit more than your usual amounts, Gherben. The same place nonetheless?"
"As always, magister."
Nodding in turn, she moves to the coach and opens a shallow compartment under the seat on the back. Another spell is cast, this one obviously much more powerful than the previous one, and row upon row of heavy gold coins appear.
Gerin rolls his shoulders against the cool and the sore spots left from the sparring.
"I'll take the coach, thank you. My amazing horse can follow after." He too transfered his items to the coach for the most part and tied the mule to the back of the coach. He took a moment to cut away some of the rope, thinning it out with a nearby stone but not actually cutting it.
"You never know if the story about coaches, cliffs, and prized horses are true." He explained, mostly to himself but also to the Dwarf. "And I would hate myself bitterly if I caused the death of a companion because I didn't think things through. If something should happen, could you cut the rope? I'm afraid I only really have a rapier."
Thorik gives the Stranger a sideways glance. He is about to respond to his question when he hears the three aproach. His hand goes to his crossbow until he realizes they are the ones they've been waiting on.
His eyes go wide at the sight of the appearing gold. He shakes his head and looks away trying not to notice.
"Not necessary, magister. The Company's reputation speaks for itself. The Guild thanks you for your services."
Arabella nods gracefully, a gesture Gherben responds to with a bow, and acknowledges each of the Silver Swords in turn.
"I'll be on my way then. I wish you all a successful journey."
The magister and her escort leave and, signalled by Gherben, Greebo, closes the compartment. It shimmers briefly and all trace of it disappears.
"It's nothing like magister Arabella's, but I do have a trick or two of my own," Gherben grins.
"Shall we get going?"
Assuming this is agreeable Gerin takes the leftside of the carrige.
"Stranger when something happens reload the bolts for Thorik. We will get you some more practice when we are at a rest."
Gerin raises his voice so all the Silverswords can hear.
"Keep your weapons loose in their sheaths and your eyes and ears ready men."
Gerin checks his blademakes sure his shield is fixed tightly to his saddle, and then gives his mare a light squeeze with his heels along with a little bit of a lean forwards. Gerin is very pleased to find that the mare advances with such subtle commands. With a little smile Gerin leans forwards and gives the mount a rub just behind her ears.
You are a very well trained horse, this will be a pleasure to ride with you. Complements to your master later I think.
Show
Light horse, heavy horse, light warhorse or heavy warhorse???
Light horse, heavy horse, light warhorse or heavy warhorse???
When Gherben gets into the coach the Silver Swords notice a limp in his left leg. He hides it well, but it's impossible to take the steps up without it showing. Perhaps this is the reason why he is not riding himself.
OoC
light warhorses all around
Instead, he merely nodded to Gerin and remained on the cart. He gestured for the Dwarf to hand him the crossbow, that he might become familiar with the loading mechanism.
Sitting atop the horse Malic finds himself much more at home than in most of the situations he has found himself in since he left his fathers house. Malic breaks his bare left hand up to brush the scar on his ear before returning his attantion to thepassing scenery.
He then easily leaps onto the cart next to Stranger, but quickly moves to the rear of the cart and hangs his legs off the back.
ooc
How many people are riding on this carriage? Thorik, Stranger, and Gherban? If so, Thorik hangs in the back to protect the coin.
Looking for a good place to sit in the back, Thorik finds the two stableboys Gherben had mentioned asleep on the rear luggage compartment. Apparently it's still too early for them to be up and about, but then again they can't be a day older than twelve. This brings the full complement of people on the coach to six, but there's plenty of room: four can comfortably be seated inside, two more up front - one of which Greebo, teamster for the ride - and another two where the boys are now sleeping, leaving still more place on the roof for those who appreciate the vantage point and don't mind being exposed to the elements too much.
OoC
Picture the ever-popular stagecoach from classic western movies, but a little bit sturdier (and slightly less comfortable if the ride gets bumpy, unfortunately).
"How are you feeling Malic, I am a tad sore from our practice yesterday."
The half-elf shrugs softly as he turns back to look at the tree line, "nothing I haven't felt before learning from my father's master at arms."
"Gerin." he calls down to the warrior, "don't know if I told'ya, but I've seen Malic dive onto a stone floor, from'a height'a fifty feet or more. Would'a killed most."
Thorik thinks he's brought this up before, but he cant remember for certain.
"An' after that, he gets up... an' fight's his way out'fa pit filled with ghouls."
"I am not suprised after the hit he gave me yesterday. That single blow nearly ended the practice. And the number of blows he took from me. Any single of which could have put a normal man to the floor."
The dwarf stands atop the carriage, careful not to fall himself, and stretches his arms wide showing how it may (or may not) have looked.
"Me, thinkin' e's dead, hurries down'a ladder. 'Parently Malic don't care fer ladders, an' prefers'a more direct approach!"
Thorik sits back down, but continues his tale.
"So as I'm climbin', I look down an' see a horde'a ghouls lumberin' towards 'em. Next thing ya know, Malic stands up... brushes 'imself off like he jus' fell from'a horse. Then'e pulls out that damned huge sword of 'is goes on'a undead killin' spree!"
Thorik starts to laugh a hearty laugh, but continues to talk through it.
"Was hardly'a ghoul left fer us. We thought we were comin' to 'is rescue..."
Thorik continues to laugh.
Noticing how Malic is keeping out of this conversation Gerin is pleased.
I am glad someone else has their head on right. Thorik is definitly the strangest dwarf that I have ever met. Most dwarves would look at stranger sideways, but he is in the middle of this fish tale.
Gerin shakes his head slightly, and nudges his mount forwards until he is about 30 feet ahead for a quick look and listen.
"There wasn't that many ghouls..." he whispers to himself.
Shaking his head he calls up to Gerin, "see anything up there Gerin?!"
Thorik smiles at Malic when he sees his friends face redden.
"As I said, he 'ad ten'r more cut down by the time we reached 'im. An' all this was after trek'n miles through knee deep ash n' soot, sweatin' like paid ladies, an' fightin' off bat creatures an' beetle husks!"
The smile on Thoriks face disappears. Now remembering the hell they had gone through, Thorik doesnt find his story as amusing as before. He shakes the thought from his head and smiles again.
He takes the crossbow from the Stranger and looks to where Gerin now rides on the road ahead.
Gerin shakes his head slightly, and nudges his mount forwards until he is about 30 feet ahead for a quick look and listen.
The road is deserted at this early hour, although it probably won't be long before the first country folk will be trickling down to the city to conduct their business. Greebo stays silent, aside from the occasional grunt or wordless encouragement for the horses in the team, and Gherben seems mostly content to just listen to the conversation as well. It looks like he's still trying to get a feel for each of the four Silver Swords, but he does every now and then make a little remark or ask about something he sees.
"In case any of you are wondering, we'll stop for a quick bite in an hour or two - there's a watering hole where we might run into some others going our direction, I like to take the chance to find out about news and rumors."
"Nothing that I saw. Every now and then it is good to get away from the group so that we can listen without all this..."
Gerin waves his hand at the wagon and the horse.
"...noise.... I need all the help I can get."
"In case any of you are wondering, we'll stop for a quick bite in an hour or two - there's a watering hole where we might run into some others going our direction, I like to take the chance to find out about news and rumors."
Thorik looks over the edge of the carriage.
"Aye sir. A bite'd be welcome. Should we send a rider 'er two ahead and make sure all's clear? Can'na be too careful."
Gherben, who's settled himself as comfortable as possible inside the carriage, sticks his head out the window to respond.
''It's best to be careful, but I don't expect much trouble until we're at least half a day out - until then, a determined rider could make it to the city fast enough for highwaymen not to want to risk anything.''
The fair itself is another matter: it's known that there will be a lot of trade, expensive trade, so there's all sorts of thieves and swindlers to watch out for. You also see all sorts, since people come from far and wide. We'll want to be careful not to offend anyone by going against customs we don't know, for instance, and especially the horse nomads that will be there are known for being hot-tempered."
Courtesy and respect, obviously, but don't overdo it: that shows weakness. Except towards the elders, they hold a special position of authority.
Usually mimicking the other is a good way to play it safe, as many customs consist of an exchange of sorts.
With some, the women have a lower position in their society: if that's the case, don't approach them. The men will be jealous. With others it will be the women who are in command: that'll take careful negotiating on our part. Never allude to business you have with someone else, it implies the person you're talking to is not your first choice - even if you say he is.
Never start negotiating immediately, you first have to build up a relationship. If you do, there will be no negotiating, just a far too high price for you to accept or not which they won't budge on.
Since this will be your first time, you'll be unknown. There will be some who will test you, challenge you, try to provoke you, since that's their way: always determine a pecking order. If you can avoid having to answer that without loss of face, that'd be best. If you do have to take up a challenge, you must do so confidently and whether you win or lose, be magnanimous about it.
Weapons are allowed at the fai, but don't be too obvious about them. That's a sure way of having to deal with challenges.
There's a provost who's in charge of the fair. You'll see his men patrolling in livery. Whatever you do, don't get into trouble with them. He'll simply boot us out and ban us from ever doing business again."
Gerin rides along, happily listening
Thorik sits facing the direction they head, and takes aim with his crossbow on whatever catches his eye.
"Talk about yer heavy cavalry. Those lizards'd tear'a horse hide clean off!"
There will be people from every direction though, not just Drani. And not just humans either. I expect elf delegations and probably quite a few half-orcs. There were some last year already, and they're really taking to cavalry units. They might be our stiffest competition for heavy warhorses, the kind that can charge full tilt with complete metal barding and a heavily armed and armoured rider. The elves often spoil the market for race horses, the kind bred in the deep south, but we're not interested in those. There could be some dwarves too even, blacksmiths who specialize in barding and other items for cavalry. There's good money to be made from that, dwarves don't usually let such opportunities go to waste.
Anyway, I'll point out the important groups when we get there. And since there's a dependable banking system in place, you'll all get a chance to look around for yourselves as well. Once we're there, guarding the money won't be necessary anymore."
Oh, and tell me more about these lizards, Thorik..."
No maps, I'm afraid, but they wouldn't be detailed enough for the kind of planning you have in mind anyway. I suppose you'll have to trust my experience," Gherben winks.
Gherben sticks his head out the window again and nods.
"About another mile, maybe a little more, and we get to the resting place. It's in that small copse of trees over there."
It's gotten light enough to see far ahead, and the trees are easy to make out. The road is quite open from where the group is so outriders can keep visual contact with the carriage at all times. After that the road continues between ever larger trees though.
"Malic do would you stay close to the wagon. I'll go take a peak around and wait there for you guys to catch up."
Gerin rushes his mount forwards and makes his trip to the trees. Keeping his eyes open he looks for anything that may indicate a threat. Any points where an ambush may occur, or if there is anyone else visable. If it is clear he reigns in the mare and gives the wagon an all clear sighn and waits.
And as he has been, he keeps a watch on the other surroundings for trouble.
Bar that, he rides silently and waits for the arrivial to the stop.
ooc
Spot +6
When he is close enough he waves at the family and greets them.
"Good day to you. May I come closer? I am ahead of a wagon and a few men. I came forwards to check on the state of things."
He moves his horse closer and waits for the coach to get closer, before dismounting. When the coach gets there Gerin gets down, removes his helm, and gauntlets and shakes the mans hand.
"My name is Gerin."
While Gerin is speaking with the farmer, Gherben climbs out of the carriage and stretches his leg with a painful grimace. Greebo finds a bucket and goes fetching some water for the horses, while the stableboys finally get up and look after the team as well - a largely unnecessary effort, but Gherben likely runs a tight ship.
Gerin pulls out some of his rations and selects some sweet nuts and offers them to the little girl. When he stands back up from a crouch Gerin can feel the burn in his legs.
Man we just started... This is gonna feel great tonight.
He eats some dried meat and bread from his rations as he visits with the man.
Seeing Gerin was already socializing with them, the Stranger simply walked about, exploring the small area. He remained very close. One had to stretch their legs, not their necks.
Conroy nods at the ox.
The girl clutches her mother's skirts when Gerin offers her a little treat, but with a bit of convincing she accepts them with a happy smile. Farmer's wife Amy thanks Gerin but is also somewhat shy, it seems, not as easygoing as her husband.
Gherben joins the group when he's done stretching.
"Good morning, farmer. How are things on the road?"
Farmer Stevensen has seen more groups travelling towards the fair the last couple of days, but nothing out of the ordinary about them. That's not surprising, the really large traders who bring scores of horses mainly come from other directions.
Washing down the salted meat with a gulp of water, Thorik walks back to the carriage and stands by it waiting for the others.
Removing the heavy two handed blade from his back, Malic seats himself near the wagon and dines on a meagre meal of rations and water.
Finishing up Malic nods to Thorik, "how goes the trip for you?"
"And of you, lad? Is yer battle from yesterday wearin' on ye?"
Thorik transfers the crossbow from one shoulder to the other, and leans back against the carraige.
"The traders that'll be in attendance sound like'a intrestin' lot."
"So. Nothing suspicious around according to Conroy. That's good, but hardly a guarantee for a safe journey. Things will get a bit more difficult from here on, at least for a day or two. The roads are still good, but we'll be driving through forest most of the time. Easier to set up a robbery, easier to disappear afterwards. How do you lads want to get organized?"
Also possibly to keep both of our good men to fall to arrows in the first few moments, should those be used."
Not expecting and answer he continues.
"If not Malic do you think you could lend one of yours to him all I have is my javalins and two daggers as backup."
Something I should fix I think.
"Gherben I think would be a big enough suprize to whoever may try and get into the carrige. A retired Silversword.... I think would be able to put any one of us into the ground with little effort. I assume you have your own tricks on you in case of emergency."
Again there is no question in Gerins voice.
"We stay in the same formation Thorik and Stranger are on the roof with crossbows, Greboo teamster with cross bow and some sort of melee weapon that looks nasty, I think the flail would be best Malic. If we are attacked do not bolt forwards because they are likely to hope for that. They will put a small group forwards of their position to force us forwards into a larger group."
"Now the downside to this plan telegraphs the fact that we have lots to protect. This heavy of a guard for a single carrige makes things look like we are a big payday. Any other suggestions?"
Gherben nods at the half-orc sitting in his customary position, who grins and nods in return. Greebo reaches down and pulls out a very large greatclub, fully three quarters his own length, and sets it down next to him.
"Driving a team like this won't allow him to do much else though. Don't count on him if it gets to a fight on the run, keeping in control of the carriage is more important than having another fighter.
I agree we'll look like a big prize, but only two kinds of people travel to the fair: those who come to sell and those who come to buy. The first have horses, the second money. We don't have that many horses, so any robber will assume there's a lot of cash with us anyway. You're right, we better make a good show of our strength.
Anything else?"
I'm sure I'll think of something."
Show
ooc: When I decide to actually wake up instead of staring at a screen half-dazed.
Malic can be heard in Gerins voice and towards the end of his comment he doesn't seem to be talking to Stranger. More to his own memories.
As he trots along Malic pauses, "Mind you I doubt that the force you are thinking to attack us will be near as large as you expect. they'd be more like to fire at us from the trees with bows or arrows."
"But th'plan be sound enuff' regardless. Keep t'gether with me'n Stranger on the carriage."
Thorik shruggs and waits for any other suggestions.
question
Does the carriage have windows?
I do hope you are right... But this is a perfect opportuinity for highway men. The fair will be attracting a fair deal of wealth. They know this and will capitalize on it. They are cowards not stuipid.
Show
I just noticed but "Malice can be heard in Gerins voice..." Not Malic... Sorry about that if it caused any confusion....
I just noticed but "Malice can be heard in Gerins voice..." Not Malic... Sorry about that if it caused any confusion....
Before murging his horse forewards Malic leans down and pats it's neck softly, whispering to himself as he does, "hopefully we meet no such problems on the way there or back."
"I haven't run into any trouble travelling to the fair so far, but I never carried this kind of money. And the fair itself didn't use to be this big a deal: it grew very large the last couple of years only, and the opportunity to strike big with it."
The next twenty miles nothing happens - whether that's because no-one's there to try or no-one wants to, seeing the formidable defenses, remains up in the air. Nobody in the group sees anything untoward at least, but it's hard not to start imagining things while so focused on detecting danger as easily as possible. The trees grow ever larger, the underbrush ever thicker, and more and more signs of neglect show in the road. The carriage has a free path nonetheless, and the group makes good time.
OoC
The carriage does have windows, allowing anyone inside to use crossbows fairly unhindered while still providing a measure of cover. Depending on where the attacks come from, the entire carriage may provide cover as well, of course.
People on horseback have the advantage of higher ground vs anyone on foot. People in the carriage (or on the driver's seat) are considered on par with those on horseback in this regard, those on the roof of the carriage have an advantage even vs those on horseback.
People on horseback have the advantage of higher ground vs anyone on foot. People in the carriage (or on the driver's seat) are considered on par with those on horseback in this regard, those on the roof of the carriage have an advantage even vs those on horseback.
ooc
Where are you at Stranger? In carriage? And do you have a crossbow? I dont think your list had one, but is there any chance he was provided with one, Panguar?
There is just about enough room on either side of the carriage for a single rider to pass, but upon hearing the hoofbeats Greebo starts to steer to the side of the road, without reining in the team. When the foursome notice the group, they slow down to a canter and draw together in a closer formation. It looks like they intend to overtake the carriage.
Gerin pulls back behind the carrige and holds behind. Gerin does not draw his blade until the attack is for certain. But his grip on the pommel of his sword tightens ready.
Malic positioned himself opposite of Gerin his heavy blade to unwieldy to use ahorse, Malic was going to have to move into motion quickly if things came to blows. The half-elf sighed and prayed that the men coming up behind them weren't a threat.
"Thorik I may need use of your axe before the end of this," Malic says as the carriage passes him. Taking up position Astride Gerin, Malic's face darkens with a steely resolve.
ooc
Gherben has a heavy crossbow with him in the carriage, but he didn't bring a spare one he could lend to Stranger.
ooc
I guess Stranger can just sing them a song. We should have thought about that before leaving. If we can, we should pick him up one at the fair. Spot +6
"Well it looks like there is more than money and horses on its way to the fair. Some very important people are on their way there as well it seems."
Gerin reaches behind his cloak and unsheaths one of his daggers and hands it to Malic. The piece is beautiful, the curviture of the blade is elegent but still purposeful, the side of the blade is nearly a mirror finish.
"I know it is small but you can use it on horseback. But if you loose it I will skin you alive with its sister."
"You sure?....Ok"
Gerin puts the blade back and continues riding
"Malic I'm going to go look. It is probebly that group that passed us by earlier."
Gerin rushes his horse forwards at an all out gallop to look.
Show
If Gerin seems a little bossy just let me know. I play him as a leader. But just lat me know please. Don't want to dictate you guys.
If Gerin seems a little bossy just let me know. I play him as a leader. But just lat me know please. Don't want to dictate you guys.
The defenders are holding their own, but barely. One of their horses is down, leaving one man unable to flee, presumably the reason why they're not making a run for it. They won't be able to last much longer though, that much is clear.
"Get over here the group from ealrier is under attack!!!"
Gerin then pulls his horse back around and starts a charge for one of the ambushers.
Show
If it looks like the horse will be able to jump the trees Gerin will go for that if not he will go around and crash through the trees.
Is this is how it looks?
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If it looks like the horse will be able to jump the trees Gerin will go for that if not he will go around and crash through the trees.
Is this is how it looks?
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OoC
MAP (fingers crossed)
Should be fairly self-explanatory: X's are people on foot, ovals are horses, Gerin is in the lead and Malic is following closely. In the group under attack the middle horse is the one that's down, with it's rider in the same space. The two closest X's have (short)spears, the others axes.
You have the advantage of a surprise round (I'll allow you to change your actions if necessary). From where he is, Gerin can't charge anyone in that surprise round, but you've gained the lead in initiative so that doesn't matter much.
Init:
Gerin
Gherben
Stranger
Malic
Thorik
ambushers
ambushees
Gerin was actually third in init, but I'm treating everyone else as if they'd delayed to see what he would do. The carriage can go almost as fast as the light warhorses (10 vs 12 squares per move action), but I'm imposing a couple of limitation regarding speed changes (nothing for you to really keep track of, just keep it in mind if you want the group to stay together).
MAP (fingers crossed)
Should be fairly self-explanatory: X's are people on foot, ovals are horses, Gerin is in the lead and Malic is following closely. In the group under attack the middle horse is the one that's down, with it's rider in the same space. The two closest X's have (short)spears, the others axes.
You have the advantage of a surprise round (I'll allow you to change your actions if necessary). From where he is, Gerin can't charge anyone in that surprise round, but you've gained the lead in initiative so that doesn't matter much.
Init:
Gerin
Gherben
Stranger
Malic
Thorik
ambushers
ambushees
Gerin was actually third in init, but I'm treating everyone else as if they'd delayed to see what he would do. The carriage can go almost as fast as the light warhorses (10 vs 12 squares per move action), but I'm imposing a couple of limitation regarding speed changes (nothing for you to really keep track of, just keep it in mind if you want the group to stay together).
Show
Not sure how you want to count diagonal movement. But I would like to get as close as I can. Can't use a double move and turn...I will let you, pagnur, say how far I make it.
OOC
Malic will dismount when he get's within charging range of one of the bandits and charge.
Show
Bad dude at 39V is the target.
this is not including the bonus for a horse (+1 attack) and a charge (+1 attack) I don't remember the bonuses for sure so I figured I wouldn't include them in what I know.
bastard sword +7 (1d10+3/19-20, slashing)
Bad dude at 39V is the target.
this is not including the bonus for a horse (+1 attack) and a charge (+1 attack) I don't remember the bonuses for sure so I figured I wouldn't include them in what I know.
bastard sword +7 (1d10+3/19-20, slashing)
ooc
I'll wait until we get closer. I dont really want to fire an arrow past Malic and Gerin, while bouncing along on top of a carriage... and I'm out of range... when I'm in range, I'll make a move.
Some twenty, twenty-five yards back Greebo saws at the reins and brings the carriage to a halt, reaches for his club and gets ready to rush over as well, while Gherben takes aim carefully through one of the windows, but holds his shot until he thinks the risk can't be avoided.
Malic is hot on Gerin's heels but needs a few more moments to engage, moments the bandits use to their advantage. Arrows fly out of the woods from either side of the road, all aimed at Malic who's in the open. Luckily, only one hits the mark and no more than grazing him at that. The bandits on the road aren't startled for long either, the remaining spearman and one of his axe-wielding companions turning on Gerin while the three others now focus all their attention on one of their original targets.
Gerin takes a nasty stab wound in his leg from the spear, but the axe man is too intimidated by the fearsome horse to make an effective attack. The armoured guard that now faces the brunt of the bandits' attacks fares a lot worse, falling under the repeated blows, while his comrades' counterattacks fail to do any damage in return.
OoC
My first combat roll, and it's a crit. Nice going, Gerin. You didn't kill him, but you might as well have. 
You do take 6 points of damage (3 of which nonlethal), while malic takes 3 (2 of which nonlethal). The coach stopped just before the bend, say U-V, 20-22 (horses in front of that, obviously), with Malic leaving his horse next to it, getting just just after dismounting. He's in charging reach of the remaining spear man on X38 though.
Since I forgot to mention Greebo (who's next to the carriage):
Init:
Gerin
Gherben
Stranger
Malic
Thorik
Greebo
ambushers
ambushees
You do take 6 points of damage (3 of which nonlethal), while malic takes 3 (2 of which nonlethal). The coach stopped just before the bend, say U-V, 20-22 (horses in front of that, obviously), with Malic leaving his horse next to it, getting just just after dismounting. He's in charging reach of the remaining spear man on X38 though.Since I forgot to mention Greebo (who's next to the carriage):
Init:
Gerin
Gherben
Stranger
Malic
Thorik
Greebo
ambushers
ambushees
ooc
Spot +6. Do I have any clear shots?
OoC
AA34 on the map, the others remain hidden for now
.oO (Nadda good shot, but I gotta take it.)
He squeezes the trigger on the crossbow, and the arrow flies. As he watches it bear down on his target, he pulls another bolt from the pack on his leg, and begins to reload.
attack
Thats well over 30 ft so... light crossbow +5 d8 (19-20) x2
OOC:
Charging and power attack for 3.
+6 to hit, 2d6+10 damage, will Cleave if able.
:evillaugh
+6 to hit, 2d6+10 damage, will Cleave if able.
:evillaugh
Gherben stays in the carriage, scanning the trees for the hidden bowmen. Despite more arrows he can't pinpoint their position, causing him to mutter a string of curses under his breath. Greebo makes a run for it, managing surprising speed for his stocky posture, and bowls over the three attackers surrounding the now profusely bleeding bodyguard, dispersing them enough to momentarily take the heat of their victim. One of them gets another glancing blow in, but the others scatter when the half-orc comes to ruin the party.
Malic's fierce attack leaves him vulnerable and a spear pierces his side right after he runs his opponent through himself, but he does come out of the exchange marginally ahead. The ambushed foursome have clearly spent their best already, unable to do more now than try to fend off their attackers as well as possible.
With everyone else bunched close together, the archers in the trees now focus their efforts on the carriage, several arrows missing Stranger who's exposed on the roof. He drops down behind the back of the coach, using it effectively for cover and looking back behind them, trying to see if the stableboys made it to safety unharmed.
Thorik's careful aim pays off and the cover of leaves and branches proves useless, the crossbow quarrel taking the archer in the shoulder and knocking him off his perch. He falls out of the tree, almost onto the road, lying dazed for a second before scrambling for cover.
OoC
Malic takes another 4 points of damage, 2 of which nonlethal.
Gerin, just so there are no misunderstandings: having your horse attack while attacking yourself as well requires a successful DC 10 Ride check (which you made this time, obviously) - if you fail, the horse can still attack but you can't, not the other way around as some might think.
Stranger, I took the liberty of choosing an action for you that I feel is appropriate, in the interest of keeping things going - if you had something else in mind, I can always edit things as long as we haven't progressed too much further.
It might be a good idea for everyone to pick one or a couple of standard approaches in combat for me to use as a guideline when I think it's warranted not to wait for you to post something yourself (which I'll do as sparingly as possible, of course).
Gerin, just so there are no misunderstandings: having your horse attack while attacking yourself as well requires a successful DC 10 Ride check (which you made this time, obviously) - if you fail, the horse can still attack but you can't, not the other way around as some might think.
Stranger, I took the liberty of choosing an action for you that I feel is appropriate, in the interest of keeping things going - if you had something else in mind, I can always edit things as long as we haven't progressed too much further.
It might be a good idea for everyone to pick one or a couple of standard approaches in combat for me to use as a guideline when I think it's warranted not to wait for you to post something yourself (which I'll do as sparingly as possible, of course).
OOC
Just a normal attack this time unless I killed the guy I ran : +7 to hit, 2d6+4 damage. Cleave if possible.
Unless I didn't kill the other guy than I'll just hit him again...
Cleave if possible.
Also in terms of what Malic would do if you need to act for me he'll follow one of three options.
1: Power Attack and cleave if possible.
2: Normal attack and cleave if possible.
3: Combat Expertise if he get's put on the defensive or he's low on health and cleave if possible.
Unless I didn't kill the other guy than I'll just hit him again...
Cleave if possible.
Also in terms of what Malic would do if you need to act for me he'll follow one of three options.
1: Power Attack and cleave if possible.
2: Normal attack and cleave if possible.
3: Combat Expertise if he get's put on the defensive or he's low on health and cleave if possible.
ooc
I knew there was a check for attacking with a horse as well. Gerin also has cleave. Is it possible to utilize the feat on horse back? if it is I would like to impliment the feat on this action.
Attack, Cleave, if mounted press horse to attack if it is a warhorse
If hurting fight defensivly
I knew there was a check for attacking with a horse as well. Gerin also has cleave. Is it possible to utilize the feat on horse back? if it is I would like to impliment the feat on this action.
Attack, Cleave, if mounted press horse to attack if it is a warhorse
If hurting fight defensivly
If he fails to find one, he looks at the ones on the road to see if he has any open shots.
ooc
WooHoo! Spot +6
Thorik can more or less pinpoint another archer's location, even though he can't actually see him. It'd be a lucky shot to come near this target, but there are no clear shots to be taken at anyone on the road either. Being the only one left on the roof of the carriage he does find himself at the center of some ill-willed attention, with one arrow just barely missing his head and another hitting him high in the back, just below his left shoulder. Fortunately, his armour prevents most of the damage.
Gerin and Malic push their opponents hard, Gerin using his horse's training to full effect and Malic, quick on his feet, trapping his foe between himself and his brother-in-arms. Between the two of them they quickly dispose of the remaining spearman, both hitting viciously. A shove of Gerin's mount almost knocks the man over, but he's done for as far as this fight's concerned anyway. The other bandit near him swings his axe at Gerin but the accomplished fighter he is easily wards off the attack with his shield.
Greebo pummels one of the other axemen, but is unable to prevent them from killing one of the guards who, despite his grievous wounds, courageously kept trying to protect his employer. He takes a serious blow to the head himself as well, but shakes it off and doggedly continues to harrass the thugs.
OoC
Thorik, I wasn't sure if you'd want to try the shot-for-nothing or prefer to keep the bolt for a better target, so I kept both options open for now. Just let me know what you want to do. Bear in mind this means I kept that one archer's actions open for now as well (he's at Q38, btw). You take 3 points of damage, 2 of which nonlethal.
Gerin, your first attack would have qualified you for a follow-up cleave (which you can use on horseback), but there were no available targets in range at the time (charging didn't allow you to pick a more central position). Malic managed to set up a flanking position, the bonus of which I let him use to power attack according to instructions (Gerin, if you'd like to use PA as well, just let me know - preferably also let me know for how much: I took a guess for Malic just now, but I'd prefer to have you make as many decisions as possible yourselves). The X between the two of you isn't dead, but he's down to his last few HPs - he won't be trying anything anymore.
Stranger, I'll stay on the same conservative course for you - as long as the fight doesn't appear to take a turn for the worse, of course, but so far things are going fairly well.
Updated map here
Gerin, your first attack would have qualified you for a follow-up cleave (which you can use on horseback), but there were no available targets in range at the time (charging didn't allow you to pick a more central position). Malic managed to set up a flanking position, the bonus of which I let him use to power attack according to instructions (Gerin, if you'd like to use PA as well, just let me know - preferably also let me know for how much: I took a guess for Malic just now, but I'd prefer to have you make as many decisions as possible yourselves). The X between the two of you isn't dead, but he's down to his last few HPs - he won't be trying anything anymore.
Stranger, I'll stay on the same conservative course for you - as long as the fight doesn't appear to take a turn for the worse, of course, but so far things are going fairly well.
Updated map here
His face flush with anger, he tightens his muscles as if he's about to leap from the carriage.
.oO (Could be in them trees an' behind 'im in seconds. Be leavin' the carriage a bit short'a security tho... damn.)
Thorik relaxes again and holds his shot in the direction of the archer. If a better shot becomes available, he takes it.
"Help Greebo and the others. I will finish this scum."
Gerin reigns the horse around using the horse again for an attack. He also uses the motion of the horse to put all the strength he can into the attack.
Show
Normaly I will be more conservative with power attacks when there are more than one enemy in threat. Unless we are dealing with canon fodder or something like that.
Mount attack
Full Power attack
Mount attack
Full Power attack
OOC:
Charging the Bandit at Z43.
Power Attack for 3, Attack +6, 2d6+10
Power Attack for 3, Attack +6, 2d6+10
Malic's equally furious onslaught is unfortunately less effective, as are Greebo's relentless blows, but between the two of them they at least keep their target too busy to try anything in return. The one bandit on the other side of Greebo makes another half-hearted attempt at slamming his axe between the half-orc's ribs, but his eyes dart left and right looking for an opening to make a break for it - the last one on the other side of the road beating him to it, jumping on the horse of the guard that was just killed and riding into the woods, deaf to the angry outcries of the others.
The archers are not inclined to make a break for it yet - being stuck in a tree makes it harder for them - and two more arrows find their mark, further pincushioning Thorik. He gets his own back though, deciding against a difficult shot past his comrade Gerin at the fleeing bandit at first but then seeing an opportunity to clip the archer he spotted and making the most of it: his quarrel strikes his target square in the head, dropping him like a stone.
Stranger sees movement in the trees, making out one of the stableboys hiding in the underbrush, and decides Thorik's last hit shifts the odds favourably enough to make his move, running quickly between the trees.
"Good eye, lad!" Gherben yells at Thorik, shooting a bolt of his own at the presumed spot where the first archer is holed up, but coming up empty.
Show
You're doing well, guys, apart from Thorik taking another 9 points of damage, 4 of which nonlethal. He did get a double natural 20 on his shot and max damage for it though, that should make amends.
Show
Normal attack.
Wondering if you would mind it if, assuming the thug is dropped this round, Gerin takes a move action to threaten the nearest thug that is in melee, flankng position would be swell.
Normal attack.
Wondering if you would mind it if, assuming the thug is dropped this round, Gerin takes a move action to threaten the nearest thug that is in melee, flankng position would be swell.
OOC:
Just a normal attack +7 to hit, 2d6+4 damage.
Pleased and smiling at his difficult shot, he looks for another target. When he has trouble focusing on one, he shakes his head to try and clear it. When it doesnt clear and he feels the sharp pain growing in his back he thinks better of it, and begins to inch away towards the back of the cart.
.oO (Arrow's deeper'n I thought. Sorry boys, but I gotta get clear.)
He climbs down the back of the carriage and takes full advantage of the cover.
When he reaches the bottom he peers around the corner to survey the scene.
"Been hit'a few times, Gherben. Had'ta get sum cover!" he says feeling the need to explain his actions.
Greebo chooses to bring down the bandit Malic softens up for him first though, now the other one can't get away anymore anyway. Malic's blade hits high on the man's right arm, the half-orc uses the opening to hit him in the teeth, knocking him - and several of those teeth - out.
"We'll get you patched up, son. Fight's almost over anyway," Gherben reassures Thorik as he takes another potshot: two more archers drop out of the trees and run away into the forest, abandoning their remaining comrades. No more arrows fly around, it looks like they were the last ones.
Stranger finds the two boys, who are unharmed and have enough sense not to go too near the fight. He stays with them until he gets the all-clear, not risking a stray bandit fleeing away running into them.
"We need to keep a look out to makesure nobody comes back with friends. We also need to move these trees so we can get this group moving. We are not safe sitting still here."
He makes his way to the front of the carriage.
"Think it might be clear." he says to Gherben after looking through the trees again. "Ye done up there?" he asks calling out to the front lines.
The two remaining riders immediately check on their fallen guard, while his comrade sags down on the ground, overcome by the loss of blood. Help comes too late though, the man has passed on.
Gerin has leveled his blade to the bandits neck and guestures with his shield arm 10 feet back from the carnage.
"Greebo keep him there. Malic do you have any skill as a healer, and are you well enough to keep going?"
If Malic can heal Gerin asks him to help with the wounded, if not if he could clear the bandit bodies out of the road and place them ten yards or so off the road. Gerin looks around doing a head count, and frowns when he does not see Stranger.
"What happened to our masked companion? He didn't try and fight did he?"
Noticing Thoriks jelly legs Gerin calls over to him.
"Stay put Thorik, See if Gherben can't get you up in the carrige out of harms way. We will get those arrows out of you as soon as I get done up here."
Gerin turns to the two riders that are still standing.
"I am sorry we did not arrive earlier friends so we could have averted your friends fall. We will firgure out what to do after we finish off with this. Stay close the the three of us {Gerin indicates Malic, Greebo , and himself} and we will take care of you."
When Stranger gets back up to the front Gerin calls him down, first he asks that all weapons are collected, and that he gets at least one arrow head so Gerin can take a look at it before extracting arrows from the wounded. Second he asks that he keeps a close eye on the trees. Gerin also calls up to the stable boys.
"We need the coach closer, and at least two of the horses so we can move these trees. On the double, we need to get moving now."
After everyone has a task Gerin does what he can to stop the bleeding of the bandits seeing if he can keep some from death.
[color=Blue]
Noticing Thoriks jelly legs Gerin calls over to him.
"Stay put Thorik, See if Gherben can't get you up in the carrige out of harms way. We will get those arrows out of you as soon as I get done up here."
.
Thorik, who had been leaning with his good shoulder against the carriage, snaps to attention at Gerin's voice.
"Don'che worry 'bout me now." he says standing firm and strong. "Take care'a the others. I'm jus fine!"
He takes a step or two back and accidently bumps one of the protruding arrows against the side of the carriage. A long stream of dwarven curses escape his mouth.
After his blade is wiped free of blood Malic begisn dragging the dead bandits out of teh way of the road. The half-elf galncing over to Thorik to lend a reassuring smile.
"Face down on the ground over there."
"All right, all right, just don't kill me..."
The bandit complies with alacrity.
Gherben in the meantime whistles loudly and waves for Stranger and the stableboys to come over, judging it's safe enough now.
"Greebo, bring out the bandages, will you?"
While the half-orc does as he's asked, his employer explains he has a bit of skill as a healer: "I picked up a few things here and there in my adventuring days. Enough to take care of anything not immediately life-threatening anyway.
Leave that to me, lad, you take care of getting those trees out of the way. Take the two front horses from the team and use part of their tack, they're used to pulling. Greebo can give you a hand with them.
Malic, can you assist me when you're done?"
One of the two riders gets up, pain obvious on his face, to address the group: "We owe you our lives, thank you so much. My brother and I didn't think we'd need more than two of our best men. I'm sorry for poor Olav, he was a good man."
"Your guards saved more than your lives today. They saved ours as well, the damage they did to the bandit helped us tremendosly. We could have lost men here, and I feel obligated to protect you now. Your men would be proud to have fallen in duty. What was the other mans name? And what are your names? I am Gerin."
I will wait to continue this conversation when we are away from here.
OOC:
Aid Another.
The two men introduce themselves as Detlef and Garl Berkshold, horse traders much like Gherben except they also breed horses and are mainly interested in purebred racers, too expensive and too risky an investment for Gherben to be interested in. Their remaining guard is introduced as Bernd.
"Best you come with us the rest of the way," Gherben suggests.
"You're in no shape to be riding, and we can find room for the three of you in the carriage."
Looking at the corpse of Olav, he asks: "Would it be acceptable to bury your man here, or are there special rites you wish to observe? There's a small community about a day and a half from here that's on our way, we could take the body there for a proper burial as well."
The brothers don't want to impose, but it's clear they much prefer the latter option - seeing their expressions Gherben just nods and has Greebo wrap the corpse in a tarp and stow it on the back of the carriage.
"It's your captive, lads," he points at the bandit lying on the ground. "What do you want to do with him?"
OoC
Need to check my figures at home, but I expect all the Healing checks will be successes. I'll post the results asap, but the wounded can assume they feel a bit better already.
"That's good werk there, Gherben. Me thanks to ye."
The dwarf keeps a watchful eye on the woods as the others keep busy.
"We will need to take the live ones with us."
Gerin glances at his first target to see if he bled out yet, a man that nearly lost his arm is bound to loose alot of blood. Gerin walks over to the prone bandit making sure that he can see Gerins armored feet approch. Gerin then sets his gauntleted hand on the back of the bandits head, and kneels down. Leaning over Gerin turns the bandits head so his ear is up. Gerins lips come down close to the ear and whispers quietly.
After his short conversation Gerin goes back to work on the trees.
Malic stands slowly and stifly as he stretches and winces from the pain of his wounds, "ow."
"We will need to take the live ones with us."
"An admirable sentiment, but that's going to be difficult. We don't have that much room left in or on the carriage as it is, and the wounded ones are not really in any condition to be moved. Besides, some of them got away. Shouldn't we let them look after the ones they left behind?"
Gherben scratches his hair as he tries to figure out how to handle this.
"Ok ok, I swear I will not cause trouble, please don't hurt me."
"I want you to think about the families that you stole a member from."
"Doing the right thing is almost always the hardest thing to do. Does that mean that we shouldn't do it?.... Because it is difficult... If we leave the live ones here they may take the lives of another group. If we execute them in cold blood you will never sleep the same again... We would be no different from them."
Gerin points to the bandit that surrendered.
"He can ride with his hands bound, and his waist tied to the saddle. The horse lead by either myself or Malic. The rest I am not so sure about, The ones that fled may come back to help the wounded but I would feel uneasy about leaving that up to chance. But if we were to move them too much they could die from it. What are your opinions? Thorik, Malic, Stranger... I need to get the trees moved, I leave the rest to you."
Gerin taps the bandit again.
"But this one will do fine with us."
"Bein' the 'right' choice 'er not aside, I don't think takin' hostages is the wisest choice. Makes it hard'ta keep yer eyes forward, when ye gotta keep lookin' over yer shoulder. Not to mention sleepin'."
"Suppose we could take 'em as far as the fair. Long as he'd be taken off our hands there."
Thorik shuggs his shoulders at his own statement.
"But I'm fer tyin' the lot to a tree an' lettin' the gods sort it out. If they wish t'take 'em they'll send the crows fer 'em."
Honestly, I think the wounded's best chance is to leave them here. I've done what I can, they should be ok for the time being. If we move them they'll be lucky if they live to see the village, and even more lucky if the villagers are willing to keep them that way. Folk 'round here are not keen at all on bandits."
Gherben isn't entirely happy with the options either, but a decision has to be made nonetheless.
Show
Without further updates from Malic or Stranger, I'll move things along this evening.
In the meantime, a recap of healing:
- 8 hrs rest restores 1hp (normal damage)/level
- nonlethal damage is restored at a rate of 1 hp/hour (on top of the above, if applicable)
- a successful Healing check allows doubling the above rates (not specified for nonlethal damage in the rules, but that's how I'm ruling)
- normally, magical healing cures an amount of nonlethal lost hp equal to the amount of normal damage it cures on top of that latter amount - given the houserules in effect for armour in GsC, I'm overruling that: magical healing cures the amount of hp corresponding to the spell or potion, nonlethal damage first. This may sound a little harsh, since nonlethal damage is healed pretty fast on its own anyway, but otherwise healing just becomes that much more powerful. It's still under consideration, but that's the way I'm leaning for now.
In the meantime, a recap of healing:
- 8 hrs rest restores 1hp (normal damage)/level
- nonlethal damage is restored at a rate of 1 hp/hour (on top of the above, if applicable)
- a successful Healing check allows doubling the above rates (not specified for nonlethal damage in the rules, but that's how I'm ruling)
- normally, magical healing cures an amount of nonlethal lost hp equal to the amount of normal damage it cures on top of that latter amount - given the houserules in effect for armour in GsC, I'm overruling that: magical healing cures the amount of hp corresponding to the spell or potion, nonlethal damage first. This may sound a little harsh, since nonlethal damage is healed pretty fast on its own anyway, but otherwise healing just becomes that much more powerful. It's still under consideration, but that's the way I'm leaning for now.
"Ok guys lets get moving."
Gerin mounts and waits for the rest.
The rest of the day remains blessedly uneventful. The wounded stay silent, drifting in and out of fits of sleep, and Gherben doesn't say much either. Greebo of course doesn't open his mouth at all. When dusk sets in Gerin is called back to the carriage and asked to look for a suitable campsite, preferably a little clearing off the road. The group is still travelling through the woods but it shouldn't be too hard to find a fitting place.
"Sure thing. Malic could you look after our prisoner for a moment."
Gerin turn to look at the prisoner again.
"Remember what I said. We could just as easily kill you, leave you to die, or anything that we wish. Behave and you will live."
Gerin pushes his horse forwards leaving the bound captive in his friends care. Looking for a suitable place.
Why am I doing this??? Protecting this criminal??? He kills the weak to take what they have.... He deserves to die...No stop...that is the thinking that drove you to kill... It tortures you at night, you will never forget their faces... That it why you are doing it... for your own atonement... to retrieve the honor that you tossed to the wayside in a moment of weakness and grief... So you can look your own father in the eye again, and be proud.
As Gerin rides off Malic looks at the prisoner with narrowed eyes.
.oO(I would have rather left him behind in the care of the men that we fought with.)
Double checking the area again Gerin starts back to the group to let them know.
"Things look good to me. Lets get down for the night."
"That it will..." he simply replies as he unfolds his blanket and lays it on the ground.
"Keep'n eye on that one." he says with his thumb towards the captive.
He finishes helping the others set up for the night before settling himself down on his own blanket.
He mumbles something about waking him if needed and is soon asleep.
healing
So with the healing recieved from Gherben I would get back 6 lethal hp for the 8 hours sleep, and 16 non lethal. If I am doing this right Thorik had taken 12 lethal and 6 non-lethal. Is that right? If so after 8 hours (if uninterupted of course) I should be down to just -6 lethal.
"Should we build a fire, even if just a small one? Some tea or broth would be good for the wounded, and we're shielded from view pretty well. And maybe master Gherben could use some boiled water to refresh the bandages."
Gherben looks dubious, since they haven't travelled all that much further since the place of the ambush, but the idea of being able to tend to the wounded with clean bandages is appealing.
OoC
Thorik, you're essentially right except for one thing (which I neglected to mention, so blame me): nonlethal damage also goes away during any time of non-strenuous activity. Riding along on the carriage for 6 hours will see you recover 6/12 hp of nonlethal damage, for instance. That's a big part of the reason why I prefer to be careful with magical healing.
"A fire would probably be a good idea," Malic intones his opinion, "at least it should keep the wild animals away..."
Gherben breaks out tinder and flint and quickly gets a fire going, while Greebo gathers more wood to keep it going for a couple of hours at least.
"By the way, I hope you didn't exempt me from watch duty on account of my age, lad. I'll take the last shift, and that's final. We all need some decent rest, no point in making the shifts longer than they need to be.
Don't count in Greebo though, he's incapable of staying awake. I've learned to accept that."
The half-orc grins a bit sheepishly, but doesn't protest.
"Thorik needs the sleep more than anything else, but I'll take a look at everyone else's bandages as soon as get some water on the boil."
Gerin moves over to where he will sleep when all is taken care of behind the captive proped up against a tree. His sleep is troubed like normal, whoever is on watch will notice that he does not sleep well.
This quick recovery allows the group to make good time on the road and they soon arrive at the small village of Crowther, where it looks they are met with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion - large groups of armed men often bode ill in these parts.
The Berkshold brothers say they know a few people in the village though, and they are sure they will be welcome. On Gherben's command, Greebo will ride on into the village itself.
"Do you lads want to wait here?" he asks Gerin and Malic. "You'll be able to see us all the time, and it might help to reassure the villagers."
"I can tell stories to lighten the mood and maybe win over some of the folk and we can ensure that no roaming bandits swing by the village. Compared to the armed caravans that will come through here, this place would be relatively easy pickings."
Turning to look at Gerin, "Thorik will be with them at least."
"Aye." replies the dwarf.
"But the Stranger's right. His skills'd be best used in the village. Despite his strange appearance..." he adds with a slight grin.
Gherben signals Greebo to proceed and the carriage slowly rides on, leaving the two outriders about a quarter mile outside the village. A couple of the villagers pick up a nearby axe or bow, but none makes a threatening move or makes ready to chase the new arrivals off.
Garl, the youngest of the brothers, says to Stranger to go on and introduce the group, and to mention they're traveling with the Berksholds.
"That'll ease their minds, I promise."
He took and moment to pull his fingers through his hair, leaving it still neat but slightly disheveled, plucking at his scarf for just a moment before walking towards the villagers with open hands. "Hello. We have been traveling for some time now and would love to have your permission to enter the village, peacefully. We are traveling in the company of the Berksholds and mean this lovely place no harm. We mean only to transport our horses to the fair and hope to find a comfortable and friendly place to bed, away from the rigors of travel and from the prying eyes of thieves. The armed men you see there are guards, defending Gherben and his men. Perhaps you know the man?" He offered in his silken voice, nodding in as friendly a manner as he could.
ooc
Got a +10 on Diplomacy if it is needed.
"It's passing strange to see someone wearing a mask and not having something dodgy on his mind, but I suppose you have your reasons. It looks like you ran into a spot of trouble. All's well, I hope? Are master Detlev and master Garl alright?"
Some of our people are still a little sore from the experience. If you have any herbs or remedy among you, we would be all too happy to accommodate."
The smith smiles to show his appreciation for the courtesy and several women step forward too, now he's given his approval.
"Come to the great hall, we'll see what we can do for you there."
Martha and a couple of other women are herding the brothers and Olav to the great hall, which turns out to be a single large hall in the center of the village where the community presumably gathers on noteworthy occasions. They're giving Thorik meaningful looks as well, but maybe they're a little shy around the battle-bloodened dwarf.
Gerin turns to the captive.
"You to.... and perhaps they have a set of manicals I may purchase. Keep up your behavior, you have done well so far and I would like to loosed the ropes around your wrists. Manicals will be easier on you."
Gerin nudges the horse forwards, into the town.
He bowed to the waist, a dramatic flourish as has ever been given, then made his way back to the others. "As you can see, they are happy to lodge us for now. Martha is experienced in dressing wounds if anyone is in need. The village spokesperson is Dan, the blacksmith."
"You took someone captive?"
The look on his face is part concern for the village and part anger, but the anger seems to be directed at the bandit more than at those that brought him to Crowther.
"Doncha worry 'bout me ladies. They're but scratches really."
He flashes a sly grin when they ignore his words, and continue to tend him.
[Dwarven] "Easy now... there be enough'a Thorik to go 'round!" [Dwarven]
He glances over at Thorik and calls out. "[Dwarven] I'm gonna have ta find ye a nice lass one o these days. Make a fine story, love twixt and tween a Dwarf and a human or Elven lady pure."
"Do you have any manicals that I may purchase. The ropes are not ideal for the long term."
Noticing the distaste on the mans face, Gerin tries to calm his fears.
"He will be under constant supervision, and kept away from your people at all times. I feel that this is one of the many cases that doing what right is not the easy thing to do. Leaving him could have resulted in further death of others, killing him after he surrendered would have not been right either. Taking him in front of a judge was the only other alternative.
rough around the edges hu???
[Dwarven] "Keep yer lass, Stranger. If she come t'me pure, she be leavin' less so!" [Dwarven]
Take ya lass roun the door
Take her to ya steady moor
Find her way to ya bed
Then get out before ya dead
Father find you hope he don't
Run far an fast and maybe he won't
Ditch an dive an strive an glide an perhaps you'll get another day
Bounce an hop an never stop an maybe you'll find a way
Oh!
Take that horse far an wide
Before she says she'll be ya bride
Find retreat in the easy caves
Or be among the married knaves
Father find you hope he don't
Run far run fast an maybe he won't
Ditch an dive an strive and glide and perhaps ya'll get another day
Bounce an hop an never stop an maybe ya'll find ah way!" He sang, quiet but cheerful. "Replace caves with waves and horse with ship an ya'll ave the original."
ooc
A straight perform using his voice would be +6.
"Do you have any manicals that I may purchase. The ropes are not ideal for the long term."
Noticing the distaste on the mans face, Gerin tries to calm his fears.
"He will be under constant supervision, and kept away from your people at all times. I feel that this is one of the many cases that doing what right is not the easy thing to do. Leaving him could have resulted in further death of others, killing him after he surrendered would have not been right either. Taking him in front of a judge was the only other alternative.
"I can help out with those, friend. Don't worry, my anger isn't aimed at you. Seeing the lowlife scum just woke some ugly instincts. I have no fears about repercussions, unless you mean to tell me there's still a large band out there."
The smith takes to Gerin instantly, likely because of the warrior's serious mien, and trusts that he knows what he's doing.
"That's not what you mean to tell me though, I hope."
Thorik lets himself be ushered by the women.
"Doncha worry 'bout me ladies. They're but scratches really."
The women are still a little shy, but they certainly don't shy away from prodding and poking Thorik until they're satisfied he's received all the care they can give him.
"You're a strong one, ser dwarf, but infection can sap the toughest warrior's strength. We're not taking any chances with you."
Turning to Gerin Malic nods, "will you be fine with him or do you wish me to come along?"
Gein turns back to the blacksmith.
"There are more out there. A few of them got away but I doubt that they will feel up to a rescue. We did a fair deal of damage to them."
"There are more out there. A few of them got away but I doubt that they will feel up to a rescue. We did a fair deal of damage to them."
"That's not so bad. We'll send a couple of the boys out to the other villages and to the farmsteads to warn them, but we're prepared to deal with a couple of bandits. So you bloodied their noses, hm? That's good, that's very good.
And we're very grateful masters Garl and Detlev will be fine. They've helped us through a few rough winters we wouldn't have survived otherwise. You're on your way to the fair, I'm guessing. We'll see more people passing through for that purpose. And the brothers haven't missed one five years running."
He laughs again when Malic tells the Stranger to stop.
When the ladies have finished their work, Thorik puts himself together again.
"Me thanks ladies, me thanks. Perhaps ye can check me bandages again tonight. After a meal and some strong drink!"
Gerin points out the body of Olav.
"Well let us get this man in something more suitable for long term confinement. Where would be a good place for him so he is out of sight and mind from the villagers. I will stay with him at all times. I understand that the people here will be more inclined to end his life than anything else.
Gerin pulls his funds out from where he placed them. And follows him to where ever he is led.
Well I am very glad that we were there to help them. They would have not survived other wise I think. I just regret that we were not able to save their man.
"Tragic. I trust the Berksholds to take good care of his family, but that can never truly take away the loss."
"Well let us get this man in something more suitable for long term confinement. Where would be a good place for him so he is out of sight and mind from the villagers. I will stay with him at all times. I understand that the people here will be more inclined to end his life than anything else.
"I don't think anyone will go as far as that, but better safe than sorry. Maybe, with a little too much drink and too many painful memories...
There's a shed I've been building next to my smithy. It's still empty, that'll be as good a place as any. Follow me."
Dan leads Gerin to his place of business, a basic but well-kept smithy under a roof but without walls. Right next to it is a storage shed, roughly 10 feet squared: more than enough space to put the prisoner up for a night.
"I'll get some blankets and I'll be sure to send over some food as well," the smith promises. He also finds a length of chain and quickly manages to fashion some manacles with it.
"I'll have to heat two bolts and hammer those shut," he explains. "A decent lock is too intricate for me, but any smith with a good hammer will be able to take those off again."
He gives him another nudge and a smile.
"Their honor'll be firmly intact when we leave 'ere."
Gerin nods in approval of the bindings that were fasioned, and is happy with the room.
"This all should work well."
Gerin turns back to the captive.
"Keep you behavior and there will be no reason for harm. I do not know what a judge will choose as your fate."
Outside the half-elf stretches the wound in his side although small causes him to wince. Malic walks some distance away from the building, finding a small patch of grass he sits and stares up at the sky, "father what am I doing here?"
"Not so." he replies still pondering. "Malic holds 'is honor an' duty above all else. So he's a serious fella, I tell ya."
He turns to face Stranger and is again taken aback by the masked man. He seems to have forgotten about his mask and is suprised by it.
"But he's not usually like this. It'll just take 'em some time'ta get use to ya."
He looks at Stranger like he is attempting to look through his mask.
"Like the rest of us." he adds still staring.
"Aye... known fer me kindness, I am." he raises a brow at the man, but gives him a slight grin.
.oO (Wonder what I could get fer that mask?)
"Yer sweet words may impress some... but yer actions'll be what wins 'em over in the end. Remember that."
He gives the Stranger a reassuring pat on the arm.
"S'cuse me."
Thorik leaves the hall as well. He soon tracks down the spot where Malic sits, and takes it upon himself to sit as well.
"Been'a pleasant ride s'far, dontcha think?" he jests as he rubs the soreness from his wounds.
He decided to find a nice out of the way spot to think. A tree would do nicely, but one within the town would be better still. Outside would be foolhardy.
The half-elf rubs at his eyes with his bare hand, "what I said was wrong of me."
Thorik grins as he rummages through his pack. He pulls out his whiskey flask and takes a pull. He starts to put the cap back on, but thinks twice and offers it to Malic.
"Don't worry 'bout it. He seems t'be used to it."
"This group doesn't need me creating this kind of issues."
"Been a tough ride. Bein' a bit edgy's understandable." after a short pause he continues "With trouble sure'ta find us again we'll have'ta rely on each other."
"Stranger'll prove 'is worth, I'm sure. Or he'll prove me wrong. Either way... we deal with it when it comes."
Thorik looks around the small village.
"Speakin' of our group... wonder where our self-appointed leader be?"
Malic frowns, "and you say I'm uptight."
Thorik continues to laugh as he stands.
"Ye've a point there, Malic. Do ye think we should go check on 'em?"
Thorik waits for Malic's reply before heading towards the smithy.
The half-elf allowed a soft smile, "he looked like he wanted to execute that bandit himself."
"I thought the same. Was suprised when'e wanted t'bring 'em along."
He shrugs his shoulders and sits back down.
"Don't think it was the right choice meself. But what do I know?"
"There's a good few hours left in the day, but if we can keep travelling like we have so far we'll need about two and half days to get there. That'd mean arriving late in the evening. We wouldn't get anything done anymore that day, so I don't see much point. Unless any of you thinks it's a bad idea, I suggest we stay here until morning, get a good night's rest and take the chance to resupply. I want to stock up on bandages and some ointments, if nothing else. What do you think?"
"I'm sure I would not be the only one to welcome the idea of being well rested."
"Seems the wisest choice."
Gherben goes off to make arrangements and to make sure Gerin's fine with the plan.
The good cheer loosens the villagers' tongues and soon the travellers are beset with questions, people asking about news from the city, curious about the Silver Sword guild and interested in the band's mission.
Dan makes a point of seeking out Gerin and making a solemn promise that the prisoner will not be harmed in any way during the meal, hoping the warrior will be persuaded to join the others at least for a little while.
"The roup needs the rest. Thorik took a few bad hits and so did Malic. It will do them well to get more rest."
Gerin also speaks with Dan.
"I would be happy to join the group for a little while. I will stay for a time at the but would like to keep to myself for our stay tonight. Is there somewhere private that I could stay. Or perhapse a little ways out of the village?
I know the dreams will come again tonight. I just hope I don't scream and attract attention. If I stay far enough away perhapse I will not be heard.
He has more than his share of food and ale, making sure to be appreciative of every course he consumes.
"... the bandits had us surrounded... our fighters were outnumbered, mos' dire... someone had'ta do somethin'... so I leap from'tha carriage top, with'a crossbow in each hand! Two shots fired, two bandits dead. Then I went to me hammers..."
At this point the dwarf fulls two hammers from their place and he shows exactly how it went down. He manages to drink another tankard of ale, while his story unfolds.
"Jus' ask the masked man there, he'll tell ya true!" he says motioning to the stranger.
"He came in swinging with his daggers, cutting for Thorik's head, the lowest possible point he could safely reach without losing his footing. Yet, while I jest to some degree, it is due to his swift reflexes that the thieves had so much difficulty with Thorik. The thief struck, his blade sliding through the air like death's very scythe, its keen edge slicing through the suffering winds: The dwarf had come in low and struck with his hammer, breaking away the fell man's frail armor.
The other man learned his lesson and proved to be a worthy opponent. He simply dropped his sword, kicking dirt into the dwarf's face when the two came about and grabbing him by the harness, pulling him about, intending to smash him into the carriage then drop him upon the upturned blade, neatly sliding a dagger out of his sleeve to carve into his skull. Ah, but Thorik was wise to his ways. He leaned into the man, using his easily underestimated weight to tip them off balance: a dwarf is pure, corded muscle, formed of will and determination. The two went end over end, both gaining their footing some two feet away. The man had plenty of weapons: the dwarf, his trusty hammers, as he would not be parted with them.
Chaos spun all about them as our warriors fought bravely, as the guard fought valiantly. The thief launched himself!" The Stranger grabbed the dwarf's shoulder, very lightly, and wrapped the other arm around his back, imitating a cutting motion. "Using the dwarf's very trick: weight. He wrapped his arm around him like so, attempting to hook his shining blade under Thorik's armor and into his spine! But our friend, he is one with those hammers. Sensing the threat, he steeled himself for impact. The flying thief was surprised to find a hammer slam into his leg and another into his chin. The man was down.
Truly, it was awe inspiring. Ah, to be in the presence of a fighting dwarf: there are few things as beautiful. An artist paints, a dwarf forges steel or war. Thorik here is a fine example of a man that you want at your side. I merely took notes and evacuated noncombatants, but I was, as a storyteller, truly blessed to have three worthy companions and many other noble souls by my side."
ooc
Perform Epic +12
"Aye!" the dwarf shouts when the masked story teller comes to a close. "Could'na said it better meself! And I tried!"
After calling for more ale, Thorik goes back to his bragentry, and razzing. He gives Malic a nudge here and there trying to get his friend to lighten up. But realizes his effort is useless.
ooc
Bragentry? Pretty sure I just made that one up!
When the evening draws to a close, Dan takes Gerin aside and shows him to a small room in his own house. It's cramped, barely large enough to hold the bed, but Gerin will find the privacy he needs there. For the others bunks are prepared in the large hall, although the villagers are loathe to not to make the most of the opportunity and clearly intend to keep them up until late in the night.
Thorik, after pouring himself another ale, gets up and stands on one of the tables.
"Come now Stranger. Let's sing these fine folk'a lullaby. Think 'Ale t'tella tale' would be'a good one."
Seeing Malic still lingering he adds, "Malic, me friend, join in. I'm sure ye know the words!"
Thorik holds his tankard high and waits for the half elfs reply.
"Suit yerself! Ok evryone... join in if ye know it..."
[Dwarven] "Beer, cider, spirits and ales
Listen to the drunk dwarf tell his tall tales
Loosen your belts, cups in the air
The liquor flows free and the barrels won’t care
O, ho, take one down
Down, down
Until you fall down!
Pour another cup, mine appears to be dry
Don’t say there’s no more or a dwarf might cry
All sing along now and sway side to side
No single voice is too ugly to hide
O, ho, take one down
Down, down
Until you fall down!
By Brodon’s beard, another two glasses
Didn’t those bosoms just grow on them lasses?
Sweet lady friend mine, won’t you join me?
My lap is empty and the brandy’s for free
Sorry love, didn’t mean to be rude
No telling of stories when a dwarf’s in the mood
But truth be told I’d not ever chose you
Over a pint of my sweet sacred brew
O, ho, finish one down
Down, down
Until you fall down!" [Dwarven]
When finished, Thorik attempts to empty the contents of his mug only to realize most has been spilt. He gets off the table and walks up to one of the maids remaining.
"'Nother cup, luv.."
Show
I certainly cant claim that song. I dont have it in me to make an original... so I found that on the net and thought I'd share. Even though it doesnt really have anything to do with 'ale t'tell a tale' I thought it was great! And I'm ready to move on when the rest of you are... just playing around.
When finished, he bid the others a good night's sleep and took his own advice.
ooc
Nice song. :D
Ready to move on as well.
Ready to move on as well.
"Two more days on the road and then maybe three-four hours and we'll be at our destination."
The brothers Berkshold have come out to see their saviours off and promise to look them up when they'll arrive at the fair in a few days. Dan is there as well, looking at the shackles he rigged up for the prisoner a final time and wishing everyone a successful journey.
"Well... let's go."
He makes his way into the carriage and stays silent for the first few hours of the trip.
I hope I did not disturb his family.
But he wakes up feeling better about the choices, and perhapse somewhat releaved. His companions may notice he is a little happier, but dark circles under his eyes, are only made more visable by his very fair skin. He tries to keep his eyes down and his head shaded with his hood to conceal it the best he can.
Travelling is uneventful today, although the group sees more and more signs of others going in the same direction as their destination grows closer. There are a few more encounters with other travellers as well, but they all prove harmless.
"I don't see much happening until we arrive. These roads are more traveled right now. Bandits run into the danger of having a second group come up behind their prey. Similar to what happened last battle. Am I not mistaken?"
Gerin asks the captive if his thoughts are not too far off.
"But, never the less, we need to keep an exra eye out so we do not fall victem to us being more at ease."
Gerin happy that the day went on without anything too exciting happening, goes about getting everything ready for the night.
"How much longer till we reach th'fair, Gherban?" he asks ask he goes about his work.
With everyone's combined efforts, camp is quickly set up. Watch arrangements are conveniently kept the same, giving those still feeling some discomfort from the wounds they've taken a chance to get enough rest. Come the morning, aside from some stiffness or minor itching all the hurts are past and the band will arrive at the fair in good shape.
"We'll be just a few more hours," Gherben says over morning tea.
"We can take it easy and arrive at noon, which suits us just fine. And a lot of the big traders will only be getting to the fair tomorrow or the day after, so we won't have any problems getting a good spot to set up the carriage and pitch the tents. Does anyone have any questions left he'd like answered before we arrive?"
Ready to go Gerin preps his mount, makes sure the captive is secure, and waits for the others to embark.
"I'm just interested in seeing the fair at this point."
A woman on an especially large horse comes near. When she sees Thorik sitting on top of the carriage, she stands on the horses back, trots over and is able to hand him a piece of jerky.
"The best'n the land." she states as she smiles at him and continues riding beside, "Yorkshire Farms. Find my tent, and buy a bunch."
"Me thanks. An' I will." he says smiling back. He takes a bite, and is taken aback by the spicy goodness. "Must say, that's damn good!"
He finishes his piece of jerky and waits for entrance into the fair.
Shame.... I would have liked to have a taste of that jerky. Perhapse I will go with Thorik to get some later.
Gerin sighs and stands up in his saddle to let air between his legs, sits back down and settles in to wait in line.
Just for future reference, which of you two would be the most skilled swordsman: Malic or Gerin?" He asked of the two swordsmen. "Humble natures aside. It may be important at some point."
"I believe his style of fighting has more tact than my own," the half-elf says as he taps the pommel of the greatsword strapped across his back.
"Although," he adds with a pause, "Gerin might not be willing to face any challengers while we still have the prisoner."
Be cautious of the Tarthenen as well, if only because the Drani and the Tarthenen hate each other bitterly. That's an old story, that."
The queue proceeds at a good pace. The officials know what they're doing and formalities are kept to a minimum for returning visitors. Soon, Gherben stands in front of their table. He motions for Greebo to fetch the coin and for Malic and Thorik to flank the half-orc while he does so, even if it's just a dozen yards or so.
Introductions are made - Gherben is well-known, but getting formally acknowledged as a representative as the guild will help with any future business - and the stash of gold coins is handed over. For the duration of the Silver Swords' stay at the fair, responsability for that money will lie with the provost. Gherben is assigned a spot to set up the carriage and tents and that concludes getting organized for now.
Gherben now waves Gerin over: "You can hand over that captive to the authorities now if you want, Gerin. The provost's men will hold on to him until sentencing. His punishment will likely be severe, but I can promise he will not be mistreated. If you're in the provost's employ, utmost professionality at all times is an absolute requirement."
A couple of men in livery that are standing a little way off to the side of the table come over when they realize their services might be needed.
"Can we help you out, sirs?"
Gerin escorts the captive forwards, goes through what ever may be needed, A discription of the crimes, the circumstances, the behavior after capture, and such things.
"Good luck, perhapse this will give you a reason to leave the life of murder and theft."
When the transfer is compleat Gerin gets Malic, Thorik, and Stranger together for a quick word. Gerin looks a little solomn, but determined.
"I would like to appologise about my behavior over this last trip. My mind has been in the past for much of this trip. I treated the three of you poorly. I have represented my self poorly and you deserve much better. I swear that this will never happen again. Please forgive me of my tresspasses."
Gerin bows his head and waits for the reply.
***
"Thank you for waiting Stranger. Please enjoy, but make sure you know where we are to meet before you leave."
When an opportuinity presents its self Gerin speaks in a low tone to Malic.
"We will need a rematch so you can stop saying that I beat you. I think it will turn out differently next time."
"Thorik would you mind comming with me when things calm down. I wish to try this Jerky that you got a taste of."
***
Gerin is generaly happier but there is still the underlying depression. It is hard to tell if Gerin is really trying to cheer up or if he is trying to fake it until he is really is happier.
In any case, I think gathering wherever our employer sets up would be sufficient. I'll see you there, my friends! I'm off to tell a story or two. Oh, and remember the major factions in case I'm not there, though you are welcome to seek me out if something goes wrong: The Drani respect strength, though not necessarily belligerence. A member of the royal family will likely be here, so it would be a great time for their enemies, the Tarthenen, to strike and possibly take he or she with them. Then there are the Tarqs, desert folk of noble lineage who enjoy a good story.
Which is where I am headed." He said, turning on his heels and seeking the desert folk out.
Once Stranger has walked away, Thorik walks up to Gerin and gives the man a slight grin.
"There be nothin' t'forgive, Gerin. Least not whut I kin remember."
He smiles again and claps him on the arm.
"Now let's go get'sum jerky!"
"Malic!" he says calling to his half elven friend "Care t'join us?"
~~~
At Thorik's call, Malic nods, "yes I think I will."
"Have a good time Stranger," Malic calls overhis shoulder as he heads off with THorik and Gerin.
Before everyone goes off to see the sights, Gherben gives some last instructions.
"With some of the traders, especially the Drani, I may require some or all of you to join me during the meetings. If and when I do I'll let you know, for now feel free to enjoy the fair as you please. Heed Stranger's advice, he's correct about the main parties here, although I doubt any Tarthenen would go as far as to stage a raid on the Drani nobles. Still, worse things have happened.
Mind you manners at all times and comply with anything the provost's men say. If you do run into trouble, be smart and use common sense. If possible, get the officials involved as quickly as possible: we don't want any trouble with them, but it'll be worse if you give the impression to want to escape notice.
Lastly, you know the Guild is always looking for new blood. Don't try to convince enlisted men to change employ, but if you happen to meet good candidates, by all means spread the word. The fair always attracts a number of men and women looking for opportunities.
Right? Off you go then."
The three stop to watch a pair of dark skinned men with long braided hair, juggle 5 large axes between them. The performance is a mix of acting, dancing, and battle. It suddenly ends when one man makes a bad catch and looses 3 fingers as a result. The blood only serves to gain more applaud and laughter.
The smells of bread and cakes hang heavily in the air as they continue. The next sight of interest is a pale skinned red-headed girl dancing on a table. The large man at her feet collects coin from the onlookers as she removes pieces of clothing. Thorik reaches for his purse, but when he looks around for his companions he sees they have moved along. He simply shakes his head and chases after.
They soon find the tent with a small sign stating Yorkshire Farms.
"This's the spot." he says as he enters. He sees the girl from before and gives her a grin.
"Master Dwarf!" says the girl excitedly. "I expected I might see ye again."
"Aye. An' ye might be seein' more'a me." he replies cunningly. "An' if ye let me friends taste'a that jerky, ye might sell t'more'n jus' me."
"That so?" she asks as she produces a few pieces. "I'll be getting a bag ready for them, then. This is the hickory." she adds giving the dwarf a seperate piece. "Its my favorite."
After eating it, Thoriks face shows his approval. "Mmm. I'll take a bag of each, luv!"
"I would like a bag as well please."
After paying for the jerky Gerin looks around for a weapons store.
"I need to get a secondary weapon. Didn't think of the need until Malic couldn't use his cleaver on the back of the horse."
Gerin runs around a few times.
"Have either of you guys seen one? Or do you see one..."
HAnding over the coin he shakes his head in response to Gerin's question, "I have not seen one but I am sure if we continue on we will find one easily enough."
News and stories seem to be acceptable currency as much as hard coin at times, people eagerly conversing and debating any and all topics, but none more than matters of equine interest, naturally. There's no mistaking the trade fair for anything other than what it is, smells of horseflesh and manure pervading the air, the ground already turned to mud by the many hooves that trod on it and obviously the hundreds of horses of all breeds and sizes. It turns out the group did not arrive all that early and negotiations are going on everywhere, albeit in the early stages, but several major traders have yet to show - most notably the Tarthenen delegation is still absent.
"Most anyone can handle these."
Gerin gives it a few swings.
"Not much to them really."
Gerin pays for the mace and loops it to his hip. Plannening to hitch it to the horse later.
"Malic where would you like to go? Thorik went for the Jerky I picked up a new implement of destruction... What would you like?"
Wonder what Stranger is up to...
"Welcome, visitor. You are a man of many travels, are you not? Kheffrem can tell, you know. It's nothing specific, nothing tangible, but those that have seen more of the world than most can be recognized. You must have stories to tell, yes? Come, sit with us and share your wealth."
He watches Gerin pour over weapons trying to make a choice. Before he picks up his mace he tells the two warriors he will wait outside.
Finding a spot nearby, he sits down to have a smoke.
The commotion comes quickly, and catches Thorik off guard. He watches as the people scurry about with a confused look on his face. Hearing a small child shout something about the arrival of Thartenans only makes it worse.
"Whats a Thartenan?" he asks himself.
The half-elf looks over to Gerin, "do you know?"
"I belive they are one of the groups that our masked companion mentioned. I belive that they are the group that he thought may try to assisainate..... What was their tribes name....."
Gerin looks thoughtful for a little while.
"Started with a D and an R.... Well he thought they might try to kill one of their nobles. Possible, I suppose, but risky."
"I'd be all too happy to serve such a discerning eye as yours, Kheffrem." The Stranger said with a bow. "I come to serve your imagination as well." He continued, following the man to the fire.
Despite Kheffrem's unprepossessing attitude, Stranger can soon tell the man is held in high regard by the tribe and is also a man of means: his wants are seen to without even asking and his possessions all exude quality and taste.
The Tarq offers him a pouch of very fragrant tobacco to take from should he care to join his host, who's puffing away from a long carved-stone pipe and a steaming carafe and small glasses with metal ears are placed nearby. The scent of the carafe hints of mint, cinnamon and licorice, as well as something fruity Stranger can't quite place.
"So, my friend. You wish to serve my imagination? The remark alone suffices to stir my curiosity, so you are doing well. Please, tell me where you come from and where you are going - I will think on why you are here."
The commotion comes quickly, and catches Thorik off guard. He watches as the people scurry about with a confused look on his face. Hearing a small child shout something about the arrival of Thartenans only makes it worse.
"Whats a Thartenan?" he asks himself.
The reason for the excitement at the Tarthenen arrival and why so many hurry towards the fair's entrance soon becomes apparent. Their horses, impressive both in number and in their individual size, are escorted by a full complement of heavy cavalry who, while those in charge deal with the officials, put on a display of phenomenal horsemanship and military training.
Man and horse fully bedecked in plate armour, each mount and rider probably weighing close a ton, the company charges up and down the field in perfect unison, smoothly going from one formation to the next on a simple hand signal from the officer in charge. A truly magnificent sight the Tarthenen, from what can be surmized from the comments of the onlookers, organize every time, intended to showcase the quality and potential of their oversized breeds of horses and likely to impress their military superiority on their rivals as well.
There will be many similar demonstrations all throughout the fair, not in the least by the Drani - many of whom did come to see, but keep carefully composed expressions of disdain on their faces - but none on a scale such as this one. The Tarthenen nobility, no doubt having timed it so, conclude their dealing with the officials precisely when the exercise ends, looking satisfied. They know that already, they have won themselves an advantage for the days to come.
Thorik takes another puff of his pipe, before emptying the spent contents and stashing it away.
"Should we 'ave a closer look?"
The half elf glances about and adds with a sligth smirk, "luckily if anyone challenges us to a duel Gerin will deal with them."
The Tarthenen head for their appointed campsite, a large meadow on the west side of the fair, and start striking up camp. There are a few others already standing close by, taking the opportunity to watch the huge mounts as their barding is taken off and they're being groomed, as well as look for the best specimens in the herd.
He paused to allow the man to speak, in case this was necessary. He did not have the proper opening for a story yet. Timing is as important as content.
"I suppose it would be a good idea to check up on the horses."
Gerin tries to keep the frown off his face at Malics comment, and does the best he can to look like he didn't hear it.
"Lets go."
Gerin leads the way.
These animals look very much like our families horses. If they are indeed I hope we can aquire at least a few.
A hint of sorrow rushes past Gerins face at the thought which leaves as quickly as it came.
Don't think of such things Gerin. Enough gloom for your friends.
At the edges of the Tarthenen camp Gerin does what he can to make it know that they would like to take a closer look when the opportuinity is prudent.
"I forgot to ask Malic, but were you around horses much while you grew up?"
The Stranger tilts the mask upwards to partake of the drink, enjoying first the scent and then the flavor itself before sliding it down and speaking. "I come from the far, far south Kheffrem. Over and under the hills of dale as they say, I came here by happenstance after following members of a respected guild from Garic's. Kind people, they allowed me to tag along in my quest for the most stunning and inspirational story."
He paused to allow the man to speak, in case this was necessary. He did not have the proper opening for a story yet. Timing is as important as content.
"Inspiritional! Yes, that is the purpose of a great story: to inspire. Emotions, wisdom, strength, drive... Stories make us grow."
Kheffrem nods, puffing away on his pipe.
"Surely such a quest makes for a worthy story as well, I believe. I expect you do not see it that way, but that is not the point.
Did you come here in search of a particular tale, or are you more indiscriminate in your purpose?"
He stood, dusting off his knees and holding out his hands, flourishing extravagantly as he bowed. "I seek to pen my immortality, weaving the stories of many peoples into the history of the world, good sir. My time is fleeting and I wish to spend it well. This story will encapsulate the breadth of my experience and knowledge of stories, appealing to many if all goes well. It will start with the masked stranger as the centerpiece and then spiral out into the lives of many others, until it eventually winds its way back to the stranger. Perhaps he will have, then, found a name and place for himself before passing into the unknown."
Kheffrem leans closer and winks: "But you tell it well, my friend. And that is good too, for there are stories and then there are stories."
"Perhaps, by then, I will have met many other fine ladies and gentlemen as well. For now, however, I will settle on sharing my stories with other kind travelers and respectable persons. I believe I have a story to tell you, good sir.
We follow a man from ages past in this tale. His name has since been stricken from the records, but once he was lauded as a hero of the people. Legends say he could heal with a touch and lay low the fell of heart, able to perceive their wicked intentions with a glance. Times were hard, then. Not only did he have to contend with those who would take advantage of the situation, but he also had to shield himself from those who could not, would not believe he could see into the souls of men. They could not share his sight and so damned him as a belligerent murderer. The wicked, you see, are clever: when they cannot defeat a foe through strength and mysticism they turn to the very civilization they **** to shield them from harm.
This man, this paragon of justice, held for as long as he was able. His courage was so great that it spilled into others. Soon, others could see as he did. Others could mimic his grace. An order formed: the Seraphic Radiance, the divine light of hope." He began.
"At least, that was the idea. The more Seraphic Knights there were, the more evidence the darker powers had, and the more frightened the normal folk were. Soon, war came as it always does: violently. This man did his best, beset on all sides as he was, but eventually the man who could never fear was broken by another emotion: despair.
Those he saved one moment were gone the next. His knights were often blamed for one event or another, caught between the many great powers of the land. The breaking point came in the form of a child the man saved. He had gone to great length to prove, once and for all, that there was something worth fighting for, someone worth saving. He carried the youth off from a still burning village, his ears still ringing from the explosive spells that had been hurled about, his armor stained with blood. He reached the forest and set the youth down. Before he could even speak, the boy had died: an arrow his doom. The man was still, silent. He remained that way when he stood, when he unsheathed his blade and approached the nearest archers. He did not care if they were friends or foes, fiends or celestials, gods or men: he had drowned in his sorrow, in his anger. Only when he had finished with every individual he could find did he step out of that calm haze and wept. Not for them, nor for the child. He wept for himself.
He disappeared. The Seraphic Radiance survived, as did the nations and its people, the war ended through the valiant efforts of heroes on all sides. The world forgot the man who passed into legend. They believed he had died in the massacre.
In a sense," The Stranger said, stroking his masked chin with a gloved hand. "I suppose they were correct. The man had died. At least, most of him had. In another sense, they were wrong."
The Stranger held up his hand, calling to it the light that came so naturally. Fine details were next to impossible, but a shape could easily be made with a clever application of the spell. The light formed into a vaguely humanoid figure on the small scale, long thin tendrils of light representing spikes that radiated from the head. "He had changed.
There are those that fall, then there are those that plummet. The greater the man, the greater the fall. Legends speak of those strange individuals who seem to be the inverse of men like the knights of the Seraphic Radiance: they can cause harm, slay the virtuous, all that you would expect from a mirror image. This man had cast aside even that cause, skipping the phase entirely and launching into something much darker. He became a weapon, a beast who only desired greater atrocity. He gathered other broken individuals to him over the course of millennia, teaching them what he had learned: the world was not worth saving. It bred only despair. Only by becoming a true monster can one remove their suffering. A monster cannot feel, cannot err. It cannot love and thus will never lose love. Rare though it is, there are occasions when even Fiends come to fear what a mortal is capable of. This was one of those times.
None recognized the man. He had become a creature of blades that stood like a man, walked like a man, but was no man. What started as a means of hiding his humanity later grew to emphasize his distance: massive blades that began as piercings welded into his flesh, becoming part of him, changing the structure of his body and soul. His face was agony, more wolf-like than human. He was a razor.
Not even those who followed him could fathom the depravity of this individual, unfortunates dancing to the tune of knife-laden wind chimes. Each of them would be surprised when he betrayed them, each in turn, while seeking the wellspring of all waters. Having found that place, he sought to poison it with the madness of a realm beyond comprehension, each death further distancing him from what he was. Atrocity on a scale incalculable. The death of all peoples of all worlds. The death of his last vestige of remorse.
Yet, in the end, he was stopped. He was stopped by a young woman, born with the blood of Fiends in her veins. Born to a society that taught her to weigh all things as either owned or owned by, even herself. This great grandchild of the Devils was once a skilled Necromancer who killed without remorse, born into a lifestyle similar to what the Monster once opposed. Born, in fact, to the very individuals who prosecuted his knights in times past, a people tainted by the blood of Fiends and, more importantly, their viewpoints." He closed his hand over the image, causing it to flicker and fade in his fist.
"His actions were so heinous he had achieved the exact opposite of what he desired: he did not prove that all was lost in agony and apathy, nor did he prove that the world only produces monsters or those who would become them. No, he made of that once Necromancer a hero. His actions horrified her into epiphany, revealing the perversity that haunted her life previously. She realized the truth: she was not happy with her way of life. She was not happy.
She fought many of his minions, as he made no new allies. She drew many people to her, even redeeming some of those who were cast under the Monster's shadow, as he slew those few who remained loyal to prove that there was no loyalty. He grew monstrously, almost divinely powerful on the individual scale, while she led a legion of heroes that were greater than any god against him.
He transformed, as he desired, into something else. He bid the madness of the realm beyond to devour his remaining humanity, growing into a form designed to destroy life. It availed him none. She and her allies defeated the beast and undid his works. She even managed to save his humanity in that realm, where all things that could be thought were possible. Even the monster was remade into the man he had once been. At great cost, and forever in penance, but a living example of the triumph of justice and virtue."
The Stranger dusted off the ground a little before taking a seat across from the man. He was looking beyond him, a little to his right. He had lost track of his audience partway through the telling, speaking as if to a great many people. "He blamed the world, the gods, the people, the laws. He blamed everything because he believed he had failed. Every person he slew was himself for an unforgivable sin. His pride blinded him from the truth: he was the only one he truly blamed. His pride led him astray." This now more to himself than any audience. "She realized this. She knew that she was the only one to blame and so made amends. His error made her."
"I forgot to ask Malic, but were you around horses much while you grew up?"
"Not overly much," Malic responds, "I had taken riding lessons and learned to sit ahorse while weilding a lance and blade, but after I picked up the zweihander of my father I never really bothered to further my horsemanship. Aside from the occasional ride and mock joust with my brothers."
Gerin looks around some more at all the large horses, looking forwards to the calvery.
"I'm looking forwards to this. I love horses, wonderful creatures."
"I believe I have a story to tell you, good sir."
By the time Stranger finishes his story, a strange expression has stolen over Kheffrem's face. He looks at the storyteller across from him, an unreadable look in his eyes, and keeps silent for long moments.
Just as one might start to think he is not going to speak at all, a small boy enters the tent, politely halts just inside the entrance and says, making elaborate gestures as he enunciates the Tarq's full name: "Honourable Kheffrem din-Tenu'ared al-Jehared, the trader your guest is travelling with humbly requests you end his visit for now and send him back with all urgency, if it pleases you."
The moment of awkwardness is broken and Kheffrem smoothes his expression to a regretful smile: "It pleases me not, my friend, yet I would not begrudge your companions your council if they so urgently need it. But please, allow me an opportunity to return the honour of your storytelling: if you can, return to my tent an hour after sundown this evening, or one of the days to come. We will share food and wine, and you can hear the stories I tell my people. Now go, and be well today."
And just before Stranger leaves the tent, Kheffrem din-Tenu'ared al-Jehared adds: "You have a true gift, my friend. Your story has enriched me, and through me all of mine. The Tarq are beholden to you."
OoC
Perform 12+14=26 - a memorable performance! ;)
At the edges of the Tarthenen camp Gerin does what he can to make it know that they would like to take a closer look when the opportunity is prudent.
The Tarthenen do not object to the onlookers, as long as they stay outside the perimeter of their campsite and don't attempt to cross the boundaries of the horses' grazing fields.
Despite probably having been moving since this morning the horses are still full of energy and gallop up and down alongside the quickly erected fence in groups of half a dozen to a dozen, displaying remarkable grace for their size.
After a while the trio is approached by a scrawny kid wearing some sort of livery, probably one of the provost's providing runner services. He must recognize them from a description - or simply because there are not that many other dwarves at the fair, besides Thorik - and says Gherben needs them to come back to the carriage immediately.
The Stranger stood, granting the man another elegant bow. It was not the same as the boy's, but it was meant to convey a similar sense of respect. "You honor me, Honorable Kheffrem din-Tenu'ared al-Jehared. I will gladly share your wine, your tent, and be blessed by your charity and words. Be well." He said, stepping out of the tent with a quick nod to the boy.
He was quite pleased. The man he had told a story to was a difficult read, but in the end he had been impressed. The surge of energy, the thrill of achievement, left the Stranger at once invigorated and exhausted. He turned his masked face to the sky and tapped his forefinger and ring finger to his forehead, then tapped a fist against his heart, his gaze falling to the ground. With a quick nod and a quiet laugh, sylvan in mirth, the Stranger was off to meet with his employer with all due haste.
"Seems we are needed friends."
Gerin hands the boy a few gold coins. The tip is very generous and the boy is suprised by the weight in his hand.
"Get some food in you son. Eat well tonight"
"Lets get going."
Gerin takes off at a fast walk for the camp.
I wonder what it is. To ask for us immediately seems a little strange.
"The carriage is warded against eavesdroppers. Nothing fancy, but it'll suffice for most. Now, you've been around the fair: have you heard or noticed anything special?"
"An' this jerky." he adds as he takes the last bite out of his 5th piece.
Gherben takes a deep breath, seemingly to order his thoughts, and explains why he called everyone in:
"I've been in touch with some of my contacts to get a feel for the market this year and it turns out the Drani aren't trading. At all. They haven't said anything to anyone about it, but yesterday morning they cut off all trade negotiations they had going. I tried myself and they just turned me away. No explanation, but they're not being circumspect about it either. That's why I thought there'd be rumours flying everywhere by now.
Then there's the Tarthenen. They've only just arrived but I heard something's not right there either. They're trying not to let on, at least, but they're not extending invitations like they usually do as soon as they get here.
So something's up with both and I'm not buying that it's not all connected. That's too much of a coincidence to swallow. And that's bad, because if they're going to be at each other's throats we'll all get caught in the middle. That's not a risk I like taking, but going back home without anything to show for our trip is not a great option either."
If they planned on trading they would have started right away not turning people away immediatly. The Tarthenen make a big show of their arrival which seems normal but as Gherben says they start sending out invitations as soon as they arrive but this hasn't happened...
"Are any of the other groups acting strangly other than their suprise at the Tarthenen and Drani's behavior?"
Something happened yesterday to cause this...Perhapes the Drani had a messanger come in with news from the Tarthenen... But what.?
"We could sit here and think about what is going on all day and get nowere. We need to look into this, ask some questions, make some observations. Stranger your skills will be very useful for this, Malic would you go with him and lop off any heads that require such attention. Thorik would you come with me to. Lets meet up before nightfall. Unless something valueable is discovered than use a messager to get us gathered. If something violent is going to happen it will likely start out as a suprise. Which happenes most often at night. Ok guys lets get going. Anything else Gherben?"
Perhaps something happened back home, then..." The Stranger continued. "Well, at sundown I will be able to ask someone who I am fairly sure is reliable as sources go. Until then, I'd be all too happy to see if I can help figure this out. I'm ready when you are, Malic."
Ok guys lets get going. Anything else Gherben?"
"Sounds good enough. Do what you think is necessary, but don't be the ones setting off the Blast Glyph, if you know what I mean. If you can scrape up something to use as a lever, even just some rumours to point us in the right direction, I might be able to dig a little deeper, get confirmation one way or the other. In the meantime, I'l get chatty with some of the officials. Maybe they'll let something drop. See you all back here in a few hours."
"Whats yer plan, Gerin?"
Gerin's eyes sparkle a little in humor, He lets Thorik wonder for a little while before he explains.
"If you catch something let me know and I'll dazzle them with my smile. Perhapse they will spill the beans."
With that Gerin wanders off to find a tavern of sorts.
"Spirits lessen the minds hold on the voice. We may have more luck this way."
ooc:
I am poor at spelling and in too much of a hurry to spell it right.... but tounge.... I does not look right... So I changed it to voice....
I am poor at spelling and in too much of a hurry to spell it right.... but tounge.... I does not look right... So I changed it to voice....
Alternatively, there's the Longhouse: a large hall that gets converted to a tavern during the fair, where quantity is more of a concern than quality. Even from early afternoon it's roaringly hot and roaringly loud in there, so the difficulty there will be to find the useful tidbits in the sea of dross.
There are of course also many little stalls, tents or even just small clearings around a brazier or a keg. There could be rumours flying about there too, but one evening or even two will likely not suffice to visit all these watering holes.
"If we are all finished planning than it would be best to go head off," he adds later as he slides his heavy gauntlet back onto his hand.
"We'll take th'mead hall!" he adds with a grin.
"Lead on, Gerin."
The stout rogue follows behind quietly.
Roughly in the middle of the hall two men are sitting at a table and conversing. One looks like a Tarthen, due to both the fairness of his hair and skin and the style of his heavy armour, but instead of a coat of arms he bears Agathalos' sundisc. The other is obviously of Drani ancestry, with the bronze skin and long hair, but he's dressed in wool and linnen instead of riding leathers and the staff next to him is a poor weapon on horseback. And yet they're talking, and that's why the other customers are staying even further away from them.
The Stranger departed for where the Drani would sell their horses, speaking along the way. "I'm going to try a fairly direct approach: pretend I want to buy a horse and ask why I can't." He told Malic en route.
"Hello." He said, looking from one Drani to the next. "I am here to examine your wares." In no uncertain terms, but not impolite. He refrained from asking questions that would show doubt, curbing it from the persona he had taken on.
"Not good day for trade. No trade today."
Or he could surprise him. It wasn't a very good word trap. Mostly the Stranger having fun.
One of the guards looks more than a little offended and urges his mount closer, to loom over Stranger and look down on him. The other just grins and stares at Malic, probably judging him the more dangerous one if it comes to a scrap.
Or is it something else entirely?" He said, stepping forward and looking up at the man. He stood right next to his horse, not relenting. "Drani men have nothing to fear, and no fear to speak.
But this arrangement speaks of fear." He says, gesturing to the armed guards. "And that confuses me. I know your strength, horsemen. But to come to the horse fair and not trade horses does not show others that same strength. Allow me to understand that you are not afraid, as I know to be true, and that the horses are still as strong and swift as your arrows. Allow me to examine the horses for my employer, so that he may know the worth of them when it is a good day to trade."
Diplomacy
+10 (using his voice), if needed.
"Arrakhai thinks no-face man not knowing horses, but even fool is seeing strength of Drani horse."
He turns around and barks something in Drani at one of the boys loitering inside the camp. His companion frowns, but then shrugs and says nothing.
"You go. With him. Seeing horses."
Which left only social options. He followed after the Drani made to watch him. "[Elven] Malic. Keep an eye and ear out. I can't hear for the music." He whispered gently to the man.
He looks at Stranger's mask with fascination and at Malic's weapons with envy, but doesn't say anything. He just nods his head in the direction of the corrals, turns his pony around and sets off, not bothering to see if the pair follow but keeping his pace slow enough for them to be able to keep up.
[dwarven] "Peace council? Or th'other kind?"[Dwarven]
After getting Gerin's reply, the dwarf makes his way through the crowd to get a drink. After cup is in hand he waits for Gerin to catch up.
[dwarven] "What say we take the table with them two." [dwarven] he says with a grin.
Luckily neither situation arose and now Malic trailed slightly behind Stranger. "Be careful with your words Stranger," Malic warns in elven. "I do not wish to spark a fight inside their own camp."
Gerin looks at the two men in the center talking watching their faces, the set of their shoulders, looking for signs that would lead him to having a decent guess as to what this was about.
Gerin just smirks at Thorik, for the suggestion.
"I'm sure that would help things out."
[Dwarven]"Keep your ears open."[/Dwarven]
Show
Sense Motive Check
Sense Motive Check
OoC
Gerin, if that seems contradictory or confusing, the roll was pretty high. You can feel fairly confident in the assessments themselves, even if the conclusions may be iffy.
Luckily neither situation arose and now Malic trailed slightly behind Stranger. "Be careful with your words Stranger," Malic warns in elven. "I do not wish to spark a fight inside their own camp."
"[Elven] Thank you for the advice, Malic, truly." The Stranger responded. "Words are my forte, my sword and shield. I usually know how and when to use them, but if you feel it is getting out of hand feel free to comment. No man lives without advice."
He stepped forward, admiring the horses. He remembered his time among such animals in his old home, though he was not the expert on them his father was. Still, he may remember a thing or two. He knew one had to check the tongue, the legs, and the walk in case of sickness or weakness. Beyond that, he could remember little. It had also been so long since he had to check a horse that he may not remember it fully.
Oh well. "They look a little skittish." He said to the boy. "Something bothering them here?" He continued, friendly and conversationally. He hoped to pry something from someone and the young lad was a good start.
"They look a little skittish." He said to the boy. "Something bothering them here?"
"It's the fence," the boy replies with only the barest hint of an accent.
"We train our horses to stay where they are if we want them to. They're not used to being boxed in."
He points out one of the horses: "That's Meanas. He's the leader. The others are picking up on his nerves."
There's an undertone of frustration in his voice, although he keeps it well under control. He also takes another look at Malic's sword and then at Malic himself again, seemingly trying to judge his ability to handle such an unwieldy weapon.
These are fine horses, though. Everything one could expect of the Drani. Hm? Interested in his sword?" He said, looking from Malic to the boy. "He's quite skilled with it. I do not think he would be offended if you asked him a question or two. By the way, what's your name?" He asked. He noted the faint accent with intrigue. The boy was good with languages.
The boy frowns at Stranger at first, then decides talking won't hurt.
"I'm Rashan."
Looking at Malic, he goes on: "It's a big sword. We wouldn't use that much steel for just one weapon: there's enough for three of our swords there, or four or five good spears. It doesn't look like a good weapon for a horseman anyway. For one of those Tarthenen orc-horses maybe..."
"When I fight ahorse I use a lance," the half-elf adds, "or a smaller blade if needed."
Rashan. Well met. Would you happen to know if the Tarthenen are up to something? They've been acting very strange since they got here, and I'm a little worried."
"When I fight ahorse I use a lance," the half-elf adds, "or a smaller blade if needed."
Rashan nods.
"A lance is a good weapon. A Tarthenen weapon, but still."
The Stranger laughs. "You lot sure like to frown.
Rashan. Well met. Would you happen to know if the Tarthenen are up to something? They've been acting very strange since they got here, and I'm a little worried."
"The Tarthenen are strange, and they're always up to something. Why would this year be any different?"
He dusted his gloves off and nodded. "Fine horses. I think we have everything we need to make our employer happy."
"Mm, because those who are used to their strange ways find them acting stranger still." He said. "I imagine the Drani sense it too, considering the defenses."
"You wish to trick me, masked man, or just insult the Drani? There are no more defenses than is usual, and the Tarthenen don't worry us."
Rashan pats his horse on the neck.
"The Drani are as strong as ever. Nothing worries us."
We are off, Rashan. Lead on." He continued, gesturing towards the egress.
"Satisfied, no-face? You will best be bringing good offer when day is good for trade. No other horses better than Drani horses. To see is to believe, or you not knowing horses."
He finds a spot near the center table, and sits down with his drink. Not drawing attention to himself, he pretends not to notice the happenings, and looks about the room as he takes a sip of his drink.
He takes out his small tobacco pipe and fills it as he tries to listen to the men's conversation.
ooc
Listen +6
Thorik manages to catch parts of several phrases - something about disappearances, if he's not mistaken - but it sounds like both men are trying to get information out of the other. After a few sentences already the Drani turns in his direction though and addresses him:
"If you have something to ask, dwarf, why not just do so? We don't bite, and you don't look like that'd have any effect on you anyway."
The Drani must have keen senses, figuring out what's going on so quickly.
See you then." He said, walking on. "Right, now to visit my friend. At least I think so, fair audience." He looked to the sky, masked eyes staring into eternity. Seeing that it was getting on in the day, he nodded to himself and moved on, off to meet with his dear friend from earlier in the day. He went to Kheffrem's tent and called in.
"Honorable Kheffrem din-Tenu'ared al-Jehared, I have returned to partake of your stories. I brought with me a friend. I hope this is acceptable."
"Honorable Kheffrem din-Tenu'ared al-Jehared, I have returned to partake of your stories. I brought with me a friend. I hope this is acceptable."
"Ha! My visitor has returned! Be welcome, my friend. As is your friend - if he tells us a story first!
No, I jest: the next story will be ours. That is only fair. But first, we will eat and drink. Please, join my family for our evening repast."
Kheffrem welcomes Malic and Stranger and ushers them into a large section of his tent, where a large feast has been prepared. The Targ must have brought masses of food with him or otherwise have conjured it up, because everything looks and smells utterly exotic. His family is already lying or sitting next to the low table, plush pillows providing comfort, and there's a great many of them. Kheffrem has just one wife, but they have many children and those have given them many grandchildren as well. They are as welcoming as the head of the family though, and the atmosphere is utterly casual.
"I apologies for that, it was not the dwarfs idea to listen in on your conversations, it was mine. I don't have the best ears. We are from Garic's City, with the Silversword Guild, and have come here looking to acquire mounts to develop a cavalry. But we found that the best horses..."
Gerin gestures to the two men equally
"...Were not being traded. It made our trader, an old Silver Sword member and equine enthusiast, somewhat disturbed and I am not going to hide it, me as well. It seemed strange that two of the best horse breeders would come to a horse trading fair, bring all their impressive animals with them, and refuse to negotiate trades with the rest of the people that have come so far."
Gerin pauses for a few moments letting what he has said to settle in for a moment.
"We wished to discern what was going on without bringing up any unnecessary tension. We understand that there is rivalry between your clans and did not wish to upset any balance that still remained after.... well after what ever happened to cause your clans actions."
Gerin waits for a moment and changes his face to a more understanding one.
"I hope this does not seem brash or too forwards, but I would like to get to my point, no offence meant, but what is going on? Why did we travel days, suffer an attack from bandits, take lives, and loose our own blood, If we cannot trade for suitable mounts?"
Gerin waits calmly for a response
[Diplomacy Check]
"It truly is a pleasure to meet all of you. You have a fine family, sir." The Stranger said, securing the mask after his last bite. He never removed it: simply adjusted it from time to time to eat or drink. "Mm, before a night of revelry, have you heard anything about the Tarthenen or the Drani? The two seem to be up in arms about something."
Forgive me, you asked a question: I have no dealings with the Drani - their small ponies are of no interest to me - but the Tarthenen and myself have a mutual interest in the breeds in our respective stables. The speed of mine, the strength and endurance of theirs... You can see the possibilities.
The Tarthenen always forward an invitation to me upon their arrival. I always return the courtesy with an invitation of my own. This year, they stalled in replying to mine and, even more telling, didn't extend one until it would have become... impolite not to do so. It is very curious, not to mention vexing."
Kheffrem sighs and shakes his head, then draws deeply from his hookah and motions for one of his daughters to pour more tea both for him and the guests.
"Further, do you know which relative of the Qan is here?"
Kheffrem stares in front of him, not really seeing anything, then shaking his head again and focusing on Stranger.
"The Qan's relative? A nephew, I believe. By the name of... Telabah? Yes, that's it. There'll be others, of more distant blood, but I don't know their names. They won't have a position of importance, anyway. Khanji Telabah is the Qan's official ambassador."
So the only likely explanations are either they are antagonizing each other, the horses are somehow hurt, or something I'm not seeing. I'm fairly sure it is the latter, but I tend to have my head in the clouds, making spirals of squares." The Stranger admitted cheerfully. "Good information all the same. Mm, did you have that story to tell, my friend? I would very much enjoy hearing it."
"I hope this does not seem brash or too forwards, but I would like to get to my point, no offence meant, but what is going on? Why did we travel days, suffer an attack from bandits, take lives, and loose our own blood, If we cannot trade for suitable mounts?"
"Sounds like you had it rough. No offense taken, but understand this goes beyond just injury on your part."
The Tarthenen warrior turns slightly towards the group. His body is bandaged from the shoulder all the way down to his knee. His armour and the way he was sitting kept it out of sight.
"The both of us have chosen, a long time ago, to put a higher calling above our people's long-standing enmity. That's why you see us talking, and the others making sure not to come within touching distance of one another."
Here the Tarthen cuts in with a wry smile: "Unfortunately, because we still don't want to see our people come to harm, we still can't quite trust each other, do we, Telas?"
Telas raises his hand to silence the bulky man and pick up where he left off.
"Be that as it may, we do know we both want this feuding to end. And we both know the other knows things we'd want to know as well. We're just trying to find an acceptable way to share what we know."
"Mm, did you have that story to tell, my friend? I would very much enjoy hearing it."
"A story, of course!"
Kheffrem claps in his hands.
"Gather my grandchildren around me, so they may taste of the wisdom of ages, filtered by the desert sands we call home."
This is clearly a customary ritual, since in a matter of moments everyone is sitting around the patriarch and silence falls at the first sign the telling will commence.
"This evening, I will speak of my gardener, and of two chance meetings.
It was not that long ago that my gardener came to find me, pale his face and weak his voice - pale and weak, and with reason: 'my lord,' he said, 'my lord, lend me your horse, my lord. Pruning the roses in your garden I was, when I saw Death...'" - oohs and aahs from the smallest of the children - "'... Death, and his pallid hand. Lend me your horse, my lord, and I may reach Yspahan before the evening falls'.
Best of luck I wished him, best of luck and the fleetest of foot in all my stables was his. The dust on his trail had set before the sun reached it highest point that day, yes it had, and as that sun rose again the day after I too saw Death, and his pallid hand.
'What a ghastly surprise to spring on a man pruning roses,' I spoke to him. 'I will agree,' Death spoke in reply, 'but the surprise was mine: I did not expect to see that man at work on the morn, that man I was to collect that night in Yspahan.'
Having lain his weapons down at the door, he still cut a bit of a figure in his heavy armor. The half-elf soldier did brighten noticeably around the younger children. But otherwise had remained silent, paying strict attention to what was being said around the table.
I wonder what had happened to him. This may be the reason for their behaviors.
Gerin waits while the men finish their side, but while they are speaking Gerin combs his eyes through the Tarthenen side for any men with wounds or signs of them.
"So the two of you are attempting to broker a deal to end the fued. Sir if I may?"
Gerin addresses the warrior
"It seems that you have suffered an attack. May I inuire of the particulars? Perhapse that is the reasoning for putting a hold on trading, or is it this meeting for peace why? I would also like to extend an offer. If it is aggreable to the rest of my group, and our trader perhaps there is something that we may assist in. We are a strong and talanted group, as well as neutral which is I belive the most important... I doubt that men such as yourselves require any assistance in this deal but.... but it was my function once. To create treaties, settle disbutes, and mediate between groups."
The last little bit was added with a slight change in Gerins tone and face. He looks like he is looking back into his past again. He moves on quickly to his next bit.
"But as I said you seem to have things under control I just wished to extend the offer, on the condition that my companions would agree with it."
That, and all stories are the greater for an audience. Or so the Stranger felt. "The food was delicious, the story wonderful, and the information and aid you have given heartfelt, honorable Kheffrem din-Tenu'ared al-Jehared. I thank you for all of these and, most of all, for the company you bring. I count myself fortunate for having met you.
If you ever have need of aid, no matter where you are in the world, send word to Garic's city and I will come with whomsoever I can manage. For now, I'm afraid we must part company so that I may gain a better understanding of the situation. Be well, my friend." He said, standing and bowing to each of the family members in turn before departing the tent. He took a moment to stare into the sky and sigh before turning to Malic and speaking in Elven. "[Elven] I wish I still had a family like that. So, I suppose we must be off to the Tarthenen, to see if we can find more information in their ranks. They may be a little more likely to speak on the matter than the Drani.
Unless you have any suggestions? I'd be all too happy if you found another venue."
"If you have something to ask, dwarf, why not just do so? We don't bite, and you don't look like that'd have any effect on you anyway."
When addressed, Thorik squints at the man. He is about to respond when Gerin speaks up. His face lightens and he goes back to his drinking.
He lets Gerin talk without interuption. But when finished he adds,
"Er ye can jus' sell us what we need an' we'll be on our way!" he says in between sips. "Then ye can get back t'yer bickerin'..."
ooc
Sorry. Completely missed the last post... thought I was still waiting on you.
As they leave he picks up his weaponry and fastens it to his person as the two Silver Sword's walk, "It is a nice family, I will admit."
Further on he adresses the Masked man's question, "I am afraid I do not have any idea I've never been to a horse fair before. Although since Gerin and Thorik are hitting up the wine sinks, I suppose the best place to go would be the Tarthenen's camp."
Having lain his weapons down at the door, he still cut a bit of a figure in his heavy armor. The half-elf soldier did brighten noticeably around the younger children. But otherwise had remained silent, paying strict attention to what was being said around the table.
The children swarm Malic, as they indeed swarm everyone at the table, and are not shy at all. They offer delicacies to try, tell him their names and ask for his, look at the heavy armour, the likes of which are probably seldom seen in the scorching desert heat, and generally chatter away excitedly, but they stay respectful at all times as well.
"The food was delicious, the story wonderful, and the information and aid you have given heartfelt, honorable Kheffrem din-Tenu'ared al-Jehared. I thank you for all of these and, most of all, for the company you bring. I count myself fortunate for having met you.
If you ever have need of aid, no matter where you are in the world, send word to Garic's city and I will come with whomsoever I can manage. For now, I'm afraid we must part company so that I may gain a better understanding of the situation. Be well, my friend."
Malic follows suit as he and Stranger are leaving bowing low, to relay his respect, "many thanks for your hospitality."
"Your words are kind, my friends. I am blessed to have made not one, but two friends this day. You are always welcome in the tents of the tribes of Jehared and Tenu'ared. Best of luck in your travels, and of course at the fair."
"So the two of you are attempting to broker a deal to end the fued. Sir if I may?"
Gerin addresses the warrior
"It seems that you have suffered an attack. May I inuire of the particulars? Perhapse that is the reasoning for putting a hold on trading, or is it this meeting for peace why? I would also like to extend an offer. If it is aggreable to the rest of my group, and our trader perhaps there is something that we may assist in. We are a strong and talanted group, as well as neutral which is I belive the most important... I doubt that men such as yourselves require any assistance in this deal but.... but it was my function once. To create treaties, settle disbutes, and mediate between groups."
The last little bit was added with a slight change in Gerins tone and face. He looks like he is looking back into his past again. He moves on quickly to his next bit.
"But as I said you seem to have things under control I just wished to extend the offer, on the condition that my companions would agree with it."
"Er ye can jus' sell us what we need an' we'll be on our way!" he says in between sips. "Then ye can get back t'yer bickerin'..."
"I believe you misunderstand, sirs, and it is a complicated situation indeed," the Tarthenen responds. "Telas and myself are not exactly outcasts, but no longer a part of our peoples of provenance either. My people know that I put the calling of Agathalos before their petty politics and squabbling, and Telas here chose to become a lone wanderer. That's utterly inconceivable for the Drani, it's not their way. In short, we're not trusted and as such not privy to our people's council.
At the same time, although we've met before and have taken each other's measure, we both know the other will still fiercely protect his people. We trust each other to want to end this conflict, but not if it turns out our side is responsible and we don't know if the other knows if that's the case. It's a bit of a pickle," he ends deadpan.
Telas smiles a little smile and shakes his head, but doesn't disagree.
He picks up his drink and motions for Gerin to follow. He then walks over and sits closer to the two men.
"The names Thorik." he says nodding in turn to each man. "From th'Silver Swords in Garic's."
"Your words are kind, my friends. I am blessed to have made not one, but two friends this day. You are always welcome in the tents of the tribes of Jehared and Tenu'ared. Best of luck in your travels, and of course at the fair."
The Stranger's mask gave no hint to what he felt underneath, be it pride, or sadness, or joy. He seemed cheerful as he made his way to the Tarthenen, however, whistling as he strode in time with Malic's canter.
"The names Thorik." he says nodding in turn to each man. "From th'Silver Swords in Garic's."
"Telas," the Tarthen replies while nodding across the table - "... from the big rock in the middle of nowhere," Telas himself interjects, followed by a sigh from his companion - "... right... and my name's Halfrid of Schwarzenauge, shield of Agathalos Dawnbringer."
Telas barely hides a snort when Halfrid presents his title, but the knight is clearly used to the vagrant's antics.
"Join us. If your friend is as good as his word, we'd be interested in your help."
The Stranger's mask gave no hint to what he felt underneath, be it pride, or sadness, or joy. He seemed cheerful as he made his way to the Tarthenen, however, whistling as he strode in time with Malic's canter.
Malic and Stranger find the Tarthenen encampment easily, but the hour is growing late and the guards are turning everyone away. It looks like they've done so all day.
"I am Gerin, it seems that I have become the leader of our group if there ever was one."
Gerin makes a wry face.
"I am interested in giving aid. Please let me know what we can do."
"Oh ye can take his werd t'heart. That be certain."
He takes another drink of his brew rolling his eyes only slightly when Gerin describes himself as leader. He grins and wipes the foam from his stashe waiting from the answer from the two men.
"I am Gerin, it seems that I have become the leader of our group if there ever was one."
Gerin makes a wry face.
"I am interested in giving aid. Please let me know what we can do."
"Well met." he says to the two.
"Oh ye can take his werd t'heart. That be certain."
"He didn't mean anything by that," Telas says. "Neither of you has a stake in the conflict, so it's a little unusual you'd want to get involved. You may really need those horses, but this is no small matter.
But you are sincere, at least I think so. And like you said, Gerin, being neutral could make you very useful. The big problem now is that we know very little. We've been talking for hours now, Halfrid and I, and I suppose I'm ready to accept he's not holding anything back."
[Dwarven]"I didn't ask for it, and I am not the person who said it first... It seems to happen to me where ever I go though... Seems I can't help myself."[/Dwarven]
"I am certain that this is not a small matter. When two very powerful clans are constantly near war and open violence towards one another...."
Gerin lets the sentence drop off because it doesn't need to be said.
"As far as us wanting to become involved.... well it is what we do, as Silver Swords that is. We have many functions and keeping peace is one of them. There is no violence now but it is better to fix before. Less lives lost this way. Because I am certain we all are aware of the potential loss of life."
Gerin indicates the two sides doing all they can to not look at one another.
"One fist fight... And there would be an all out brawl between the two sides right here. If someone goes to far... War..."
"No it is best for us to help now. If you need information that is what I was looking for when we were rudely eaves dropping on your conversation. Another part of our group may be learning more somewhere else. Perhapse we could get back to you. Where will you be about an hour after nightfall?"
"No it is best for us to help now. If you need information that is what I was looking for when we were rudely eaves dropping on your conversation. Another part of our group may be learning more somewhere else. Perhapse we could get back to you. Where will you be about an hour after nightfall?"
"Information is what we sorely need. We'll each of us try to find out what we can from our clans - we have some friends left there still, at least - but I fear chances of a true revelation will be slim. But maybe, if we can all contribute something, and if the Dawnbringer wills it..."
Halfrid touches a pendant hanging around his neck briefly and lifts his eyes to the heavens.
"We can agree to meet here again," Telas adds. "As close to neutral ground as we're going to find without getting the provost involved."
His tone makes it clear that getting the provost involved is not a good idea, as far as he's concerned.
Gerin says his farewells, and waits for Thorik. Once on their way Gerin speaks to Thorik.
[Dwarven]"Well what do you think? All I noticed seemed to point to what we found out. They are some what outcasts of their clans. Should we give them help? Or simply trade as we came here to do. However if we want access to the best horses here then perhapse It would do well to give them help. However unlikely it is we may be able to settle this fued, and have a really big bargaining chip on our table."[/Dwarven]
When out side Gerin takes a peak at what the time is. If it is late then Gerin returns to the camp to report like planned.
Malic and Stranger find the Tarthenen encampment easily, but the hour is growing late and the guards are turning everyone away. It looks like they've done so all day.
The Stranger steps up, nodding to the guards. "Hello good sirs. I am a minstrel and story teller, and was suggested here to ease the journey. May I enter and tell my tales?" The Stranger asked, politely.
Show
Diplomacy is +12, if needed.
Gerin gives Thorik a small glare at the eye roll.
[Dwarven]"I didn't ask for it, and I am not the person who said it first... It seems to happen to me where ever I go though... Seems I can't help myself."[/Dwarven]
.oO (Eyes like a damned eagle!)
Thorik raises a brow as he is addressed in dwarven. When Gerins addresses the others again, Thorik shrugs a shoulder and empties his mug.
[color=Blue]
[Dwarven]"Well what do you think? All I noticed seemed to point to what we found out. They are some what outcasts of their clans. Should we give them help? Or simply trade as we came here to do. However if we want access to the best horses here then perhapse It would do well to give them help. However unlikely it is we may be able to settle this fued, and have a really big bargaining chip on our table."[/Dwarven]
"I think th'brew was half filled with ****... that's whut I think. Oh, 'bout those two... seems we've gotta help 'em now. Like ye said, if we want their horses we've gotta get 'em tradin' again."
Thorik walks with Gerin through the thinned out crowd.
"Think there's time yet. Where to? Fearless leader..."
A smirk crosses Thorik face as he amuses himself.
ooc
Don't take offense. Its just Thorik being Thorik.
When out side Gerin takes a peak at what the time is. If it is late then Gerin returns to the camp to report like planned.
There's perhaps just under an hour left before the appointed time. Not a whole lot of time, but enough to wander around a little longer if that's what the Silver Swords want to do.
The Stranger steps up, nodding to the guards. "Hello good sirs. I am a minstrel and story teller, and was suggested here to ease the journey. May I enter and tell my tales?" The Stranger asked, politely.
"Not a good time, friend. And frankly, your companion doesn't look like a minstrel to me. Why don't you come back tomorrow, our lords may be in a more hospitable mood then."
The guard is not impolite, but certainly very decided. It's going to take something of a miracle to make him change his mind, looks like.
Good night, sir." The Stranger said, bowing before turning on his heels. "Time to return home." He said, and proceeded to do so. He was not altogether pleased with how little information he started with, but it was a start. He even had a plan for obtaining more information in the near future, so it may well pay off.
Leader perhapse, but far from fearless my friend.... So far from it.
"Well we are not really dressed to visit the nicer of the two Taverns, from what we were told, it was a nice place filled with nice clothing and manners. Which we are lacking. Lets walk with the people and see what we can pick up."
Gerin starts off into the thickest crowd he can find, hopefuly with several Tarthenens or Drani.
Gerin starts off into the thickest crowd he can find, hopefuly with several Tarthenens or Drani.
There are very few of either going around, and the ones Gerin sees are either on their way to the Longhouse or making their way back from it, returning to their respective camps. They stick with their own, whether under orders or of their own volition.
Thorik does spot one standing with a bunch of dwarves, smiths judging by their massive wrists and singed marks on their arms and in their beards. The Drani looks like he's already well in his cups, and the dwarves have a steady supply of strong drink going.
"It's probably snowing at home," he muttered to himself not sounding entirely enthused with the current weather. At least he could relax somewhat this night without having to worry about watches, he hoped.
[Dwarven]
"Good... And he seems to have lossened his tongue. This will work out well. Thorik go ahead and great your fellow dwarves.... I'll keep my distance... Doubt the guy will even notice another dwarf."[/Dwarven]
Gerin does what he can to make it look like he isn't watching what is going on. Walking back and forth chatting friendly like to whoever looks like they wouldn't mind talking for a moment. Mostly about how the fair is going and where people are from. Their reasons for being there.
[dwarven] "Oh've course, sir... No way he'd notice another dwarf join'n the party..." Thorik to walk away from the man, but audibly adds, "since we all look alike..." another couple steps are taken "ye racist basterd..."[dwarven]
.oO (I'va goatee fer gods sake... and'a full three inches taller'n most) he thinks as he nears the group.
[dwarven] " 'Ey brothers. How goes't this evenin'?" [dwarven]
[dwarven]"'The tall humans aren't buying our steel and this skinny one is drinking our applesmoke gutburner."[/dwarven]
If it weren't for the wink, Thorik wouldn't have been able to tell he was joking.
[dwarven]"'Aye, have some afore he guzzles down the last of the keg,"[/dwarven] another one says and hands him a cup.
[dwarven]"Say, cousin,"[/dwarven] the first one says, [dwarven]"'That's a mighty interestin' beard you have there..."[/dwarven]
He takes a deep drink of the brew. The taste of apples fresh on his tongue makes him grin, but the burn of his throat makes him belch.
"That'soom fine drink." he adds with a broad smile.
He strokes the whiskers of his chin and keeps grinning.
"Aye, that't be. Got tired'a keep'n it clean. An' it got in tha way'a me werk. As, I see, yers do. So I chopped 'er. Much cooler, I tell ya."
He takes another drink of the brew and wipes away the froth from his upper lip.
"What th'hells wrong with this fair?" he asks giving one a nudge of his elbow "Yer havin' trouble sellin' fine dwarven steel, an' th'damn horse traders won' take good coin fer their stock!!"
"Yet it sounds as if you were at least partially accepted, which is good. I've heard that story go much differently, so I'm happy you still have your family." The Stranger said, nodding happily.
"That is very true," Malic nods, "My father is an honorable and kind man. His lady wife is not as kind when it comes to his children who are not hers as well."
"Aye, that't be. Got tired'a keep'n it clean. An' it got in tha way'a me werk. As, I see, yers do. So I chopped 'er. Much cooler, I tell ya."
[dwarven]"I was just thinking that if Ulli had had a beard like yours, he wouldn't have set fire to it."[/dwarven]
A lot of guffawing follows that remark, except from one dwarf in the back who's missing his eyebrows and has a conspicuously short beard, compared to the others. Ulli's not amused.
"What th'hells wrong with this fair?" he asks giving one a nudge of his elbow "Yer havin' trouble sellin' fine dwarven steel, an' th'damn horse traders won' take good coin fer their stock!!"
[dwarven]"'S a mystery. I don't care about them horses, but we came a mighty long way with a lot of heavy goods to not sell a damn thing. It's those tall Tarthenen lads: they're usually the ones interested in putting our good steel on their big mounts, but we don't hear from them this year. The skinny ones' horses can't carry that kind of weight, so we don't get custom from them. That one showed up half drunk and whining about his brother having disappeared, so we made sure to get the other half drunk too.
Who's your friend? Looks a bit Tarthen to me. He know anything about this? He can join us if he wants, we won't mind as long as he can keep his drink. And if he can't, there's more for us."[/dwarven]
Adressing Gerin in Common, the dwarf asks: "Ey, laddie, care for a sip of our famed brew too?"
" 'E's no Tarthen, no, but a warrior fer sure."
Thorik takes another long pull from his drink and looks over at the drunken Drani to size him up. He then walks over and puts a hand on the mans arm to steady his sway.
"Are ye alright?" he asks the man concerned "You ok?" he asks again in the common tongue.
Thorik takes another long pull from his drink and looks over at the drunken Drani to size him up. He then walks over and puts a hand on the mans arm to steady his sway.
"Are ye alright?" he asks the man concerned "You ok?" he asks again in the common tongue.
The man promptly sits down, turning around who has to look up at who.
"Wha... Shure, friend..."
He's slurring his words and doesn't have it all together, but he's not completely out of it either.
"Ahm jush right as rain. Have you sheen my bro... brovver?"
Their accents remind me of home...
[Dwarven]"Thank you."[/Dwarven]
"I have never tried this perticular brew before."
But I have heard of it... It'll kick you in the head with the best of them.... The apple sugar I guess...
Gerin slams the drink like a pro, his practice with the dwarves from home help keep his face straight while the fire runs up his throat and into his sinuses. His stomach burns happily. After Gerin feels like he can speak without any change to his voice. He smiles and raises his eyebrows.
"Well that stuff will wake you up!!"
Better keep it at one drink. Need to keep my wits about me.
Gerin takes a look at Thorik dealing with the drunken Drani.
If he keeps drinking like he has been his morning is going to be fun.
"So nobody is buying your steelwork... That is not good news to us..."
This thing is getting stranger every minute. Why come in the first place?
"How long did it take you to get here. Had to have been at least three to four weeks with all the equipment and goods you brought."
The man promptly sits down, turning around who has to look up at who.
"Wha... Shure, friend..."
He's slurring his words and doesn't have it all together, but he's not completely out of it either.
"Ahm jush right as rain. Have you sheen my bro... brovver?"
Thoriks looks down at the man confused. He tries his hardest to recall ever seeing this mans brother before, but soon decides he hasn't.
"Meybe... don't know. What'see look like? Who is he?"
"How long did it take you to get here. Had to have been at least three to four weeks with all the equipment and goods you brought."
"Longer than that, laddie. Closer to six. It's slow going with our ox carts. 'S not to do all that much selling here, really, but to make contacts for the rest of the year and get our orders in. We keep improving on our designs for the barding them Tarthenen like so much, so they keep coming back to us for the latest and greatest."
"Meybe... don't know. What'see look like? Who is he?"
Being so drunk, the Drani hardly listens to what Thorik says.
"Eesh gone. Dulazshin. Dishappeared. Hish friendsh too. Ghul'sh angry. Real angry. What'sh Dolazshin gunna shay to father?"
Thorik sips his brew again and waits on the mans answer.
"Disappeared?!? Sorry t'hear it. Why would Ghul'sh be angry? Did yer brother take a quest?"
"Ghul ish... Ghul ish... leader," the Drani struggles to find the right word.
"Capitain! Ghul ish capitain. Dulashin dishappears, ghul looksh weak. Othersh dishappear with my brovver, makesh Khanshi Telabah upshet. Bad shign."
"That is very true," Malic nods, "My father is an honorable and kind man. His lady wife is not as kind when it comes to his children who are not hers as well."
"A pity, but understandable as well." The Stranger said. "I can't say I've ever had that issue, but I do envy you in a number of ways."
"Ghul'sh ang'y at me yeshterday. For Dulazshin dishappearing. Angry. What troublesh? Dolazshin wantsh no... no part in... troublesh..."
Dolazshin (Dolazhin? Dolazin? Take your pick) seems to be the Drani's name. He's reaching to top off his cup once more. That one more will likely be the end of the conversation, even if his aim is well off and it might take him a few tries to get something out of the keg.
"A pity, but understandable as well." The Stranger said. "I can't say I've ever had that issue, but I do envy you in a number of ways."
Malic shrugs softly, "There alot more people worse off than I, for sure."
"Let me help ya with that, friend."
He first fills his own cup up again.
"Th'troubles bah'tween the Drani and the Targens ah'course." he says before taking a large gulp of the gutburner. He feels the reason for the name again and finds it odd that he's already feeling the effects.
"There mus' be some reason fer it!!"
He then fills the other mans cup up. But only about half way.
Quickly getting to his feet, Thorik takes the cup from the man before he drops it.
"Let me help ya with that, friend."
When Thorik takes the cup from the Drani, a small amulet or pendant drops from the man's hand as well. He slurs a few more unintelligible words, grasping for the jewel, but then passes out completely before finding it.
"What has this guy spoken about since he got here. Just his brother? Do you know his place with the Drani. We are new here to this fair so we don't have any idea who he is talking about and who all these names are attached to? Do you perhapse know?"
"He wasn't very clear anymore when he came up and asked for a drink. Said something about being chewed out by the 'ghul' because his brother had taken off without permission, with a couple of others. He doesn't believe his brother'd do that, so he's worried.
He was feeling pretty sorry for himself, so we let him drink the brandy. That always makes a dwarf feel better, figure it should work for humans too. I think he's quite low in the pecking order, getting pushed around by everyone else. His brother may have a bit of rank though.
What's it to my cousin over there and yerself? Can't imagine you having much interest in the likes of him."
Malic shrugs softly, "There alot more people worse off than I, for sure."
"Certainly." The Stranger said. "What brought you into the adventuring career, by the way? If it isn't too personal. I don't mean to pry, but it is an easy subject to discuss."
Malic trails off for a moment before shaking his head, "I'm not really sure why to be honest. At first it was the suggestion of my step mother. Father wanted me to return home but I felt that this was something I should do regardless."
Gerin stops suddenly spotting the pendant.
hmm parhapse we can figure out what that is.
Gerin picks it up off the ground at takes a look at it. Remembering what it looks like and seeing if he can find any markings on it.
"My friend," Gerin addreses the dwarf that he has been speaking with. "I am sure you have a much better eye for this sort of thing than I do. Would you possibly know if this can tell us who this guy is?"
"Thorik, perhapse we should get this fella back to his encampment. After that lets get back. Mask may know who this guy is talking about. Also we can ask them about the pendant he dropped."
After his the eastern dwarf makes his report about what it is made out of, and what is its significance, Gerin takes it back, gets Thoriks help in flinging the skinny man onto his back, and begins the treck back to the Drani encampment.
"Many thanks for your conversation, Brew, and insight. I will get back to you about the barding, can't make any promises however. Good night and good trading."
"I suppose it is an easy subject to discuss," Malic responds with a shrug, "I joind the Silver Swords..."
Malic trails off for a moment before shaking his head, "I'm not really sure why to be honest. At first it was the suggestion of my step mother. Father wanted me to return home but I felt that this was something I should do regardless."
"Hehe, not so easy after all!" The Stranger said, his tone jovial. "Well, that's fine. I honestly think that is how many are drawn to it. Perhaps it is the promise of achieving?"
"My friend," Gerin addreses the dwarf that he has been speaking with. "I am sure you have a much better eye for this sort of thing than I do. Would you possibly know if this can tell us who this guy is?"
"I can't know for sure," the dwarf says after examining the pendant closely, "but I think it's some sort of military issue medal or something. The basic workmanship is substandard: what relief there is has been stamped out. Produced in fairly large numbers, with minimal personalisation afterwards. Could just be a sign of rank too, but that wouldn't be very practical. Doesn't seem like something the Drani would favour either. I doubt this will be much help in finding out who the owner is, unless you have a spell of some sort that can help."
"Many thanks for your conversation, Brew, and insight. I will get back to you about the barding, can't make any promises however. Good night and good trading."
"We'll be happy to sell you the finest we have to offer, lad. A good night to you as well. And you, cousin."
On the walk to the Drani encampent Gerin is thinking as they go.
This guys brother dissapeared a few days ago along with some others. Timeline seems about right to stir things up. Some of those Tarthen horses would be wonderful for heavy calvary. Fully armored men armored horses, would be wonderful. Wonder who will train the Cav... The Drani horses would be good for scouting though... Light and fast. Good thing this guy isn't a Tarthen himself... He would be really heavy... Would have had to get my hands on a cart to do this.... Probably should have gotten a cart for this guy though... He is getting real heavy with every thing I'm lugging around... Heavy plate armor, sword, mace, daggers, shield.... should have left that at camp... didn't need to carry that with me... and this guy.....
Gerin shifts his load a little and several small pops can be heard through his clinking armor.
Yarg.... Me spine
Gerin grunts a little but keeps going. When they get to the encampment Gerin carries the man up to one of the watchmen.
"It's ok he just drank himself to this point. He will be just fine.... He isn't going to like the morning though. He played in the dwarven drink."
Gerin Sets the man down gently and straightens back up trying to hide the discomfort in his back. He chuckles a little thinking about the mans morning to come. Gerin pulls out the medal that was dropped and holds it out in his palm for the watchmen to take it.
"Didn't want to see him get robbed. He dropped this when he passed out. Any idea what it is, doesn't seem to be normal for Drani to carry something like this around. Who is this guy. He couldn't stop talking about his brother and a few others dissapearing."
"It's ok he just drank himself to this point. He will be just fine.... He isn't going to like the morning though. He played in the dwarven drink."
Gerin Sets the man down gently and straightens back up trying to hide the discomfort in his back. He chuckles a little thinking about the mans morning to come. Gerin pulls out the medal that was dropped and holds it out in his palm for the watchmen to take it.
"Didn't want to see him get robbed. He dropped this when he passed out. Any idea what it is, doesn't seem to be normal for Drani to carry something like this around. Who is this guy. He couldn't stop talking about his brother and a few others dissapearing."
The men on watch are grinning at first when Gerin drops the drunk off, looking down from their horses and amused by how the man will suffer in the morning. Their faces become a lot more guarded and stony when Gerin starts asking questions though.
"The pendant is his brother's. A badge of honour, awarded to his regiment. Are you a Tarthen? You look like one, but they wouldn't bother with a Drani. Or dare come down here alone, in the dark. There's two of you, but that dwarf won't run far if there's trouble."
"Hehe, not so easy after all!" The Stranger said, his tone jovial. "Well, that's fine. I honestly think that is how many are drawn to it. Perhaps it is the promise of achieving?"
"Perhaps it is," Malic responds softly, "or perhaps it's something else. What was your reason for enlisting?"
"Perhaps it is," Malic responds softly, "or perhaps it's something else. What was your reason for enlisting?"
"Necessity and inspiration." The Stranger said in reply. "My days are numbered and I wish to leave a legacy."
Gerin tried to steer Thorik away before he becomes indignant with the Dranis comment about him not being able to get away.
"Lets get back tocamp, it will be time very soon."
Gerin starts towards the camp in a hurry to share what they have learned.
He stands staring at the man atop his horse even when Gerin turns to leave. Letting his defiance be known, he then turns and follows Gerin towards their camp.
"Friendly lot these Drani." he comments as they walk. "Can see why they fued."
When the group gets to the camp Gerin starts to unload some of his gear. So he isn't dragging around so much. He waits on the others to return before making the report.
When they get back to camp Thorik grabs his bags of jerky, and checks in with Gherben.
"Evenin' boss." he says jokingly as he offers him a piece of jerky. "This fairs turnin' out t'be a mess."
"Evenin' boss." he says jokingly as he offers him a piece of jerky. "This fairs turnin' out t'be a mess."
"You're not telling me anything I don't know yet there."
Gherben accepts the jerky and absentmindedly starts to chew on it.
"Found out anything that can shed any light on the situation?"
"Ah, I see you two got back before us."
"You're timely enough. Same question for you: any revelations?"
The Drani are very tight lipped right now. I can only assume it is a matter that would hurt their honor to speak of. Oh, but I did convince them to open trade with you when the day was good for it."
He snaps off a piece of jerky and speaks again with a mouth full.
"Ash do most."
"Me'n Gerin met a Drani by th'name of... of... well actually I never caught his name..." he says before belching loudly. "... sorry... but he must'a been the brother of some decorated officer... think'is name was Dolspin, er Dolazshin, er something. Either way... he and a few other fella's disappeared 'bout three days ago and hadn't been herd of since. Their Cap'n Ghulsh is enraged... fer makin'em look weak."
Thorik shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of jerky.
"Me guesh is they sushpect the Tarthens."
And you actually got people to talk more while drunk? I thought that only worked in stories." The Stranger said. He was slightly annoyed. He was hoping to show more of his worth in a situation like this.
ooc
Obviously, that is just the Stranger. I'm having fun. Disclaimer over. :P
Thought we got alot more than that from our work... Perhapse I should clear that up a little... Confuse me and I was there...
When Stranger is done Gerin pipes up.
"We got lucky, stumbled upon a gold mine.... and well carreid him home... But I will go back to the begining of our search. First we went to the rougher mead hall and found an interesting sight. One side of the hall were the Drani and the other side Tarthens. And in the middle space and two men talking. One Drani and the other Tarthen. The Drani man in the middle was a Priest of Agothalos. The Tarthan was a fighter who was wrapped up in bandages. It was pretty obviouse that they were recieved on the trip here. But these men were somewhat of outcast from their tribes because of their desire to bring an end to the fued between the groups. They were trying to figure out what was causing this behavior on both their sides. We are going to go back and met with them after we finish the debrief here. We then bumped into the drunk Drani, and between the slurs, repeats, and hicups we gathered that his brother, Dolazshin or some variation of it, along with several friends, took off without a trace. Their father is the Drani Ghul ish which seems to be a normal military capitain. This has made the capitain look weak. This whole thing occured three days ago and it has left the Khanshi Telabah "upset". No Clue who that is but I am guessing one of the big wigs. When the drunk Drani passed out he dropped a medal which we found out was given to the brothers regiment as an honor."
Gerin goes into describing the medal best he can.
"We carried him back the the Drani camp and their behavior told me that he is viewed as a screw up amongst the Drani. they got really defensive and a little hostile when I asked them a few questions. So we left... Oh apparently everybody thinks I'm a Tarthen..."
He lets Gerin finish and then, "The Cap'n was'iz father?? I'll be damn'd."
He tosses his bag of jerky over to the Stranger.
ooc
:D
"The Tarthenen are very edgy, but I will be able to enter tomorrow as an entertainer to one of their nobles. With some luck, that is.
The Drani are very tight lipped right now. I can only assume it is a matter that would hurt their honor to speak of. Oh, but I did convince them to open trade with you when the day was good for it."
"That's twice good news. If either pans out I'll consider us lucky already, but I'm not beyond hoping for both."
Gherben looks pleased indeed.
"Either way... he and a few other fella's disappeared 'bout three days ago and hadn't been herd of since. Their Cap'n Ghulsh is enraged... fer makin'em look weak.
Me guesh is they sushpect the Tarthens."
"That's for damn sure they'd suspect the Tarthenen. I don't see why or even how they'd want to make a few minor warriors disappear from a Drani encampment, but for the Drani that won't matter one bit.
As you say, Gerin, a ghul is a captain in the Drani military, or something roughly that rank anyway. If the missing men were part of his ghudar, his squadron, they were lieutenants - khern - at best, and there's usually only one per ghudar, in exceptional cases two, but never more. Not worth the risk for the Tarthenen."
"Well. Considering the Tarthenen are also on alert, one can make a fairly safe assumption that they are short a few people as well."
"Not a bad guess. Maybe you'll be able to corrobarate that suspicion tomorrow..."
One Drani and the other Tarthen. The Drani man in the middle was a Priest of Agothalos. The Tarthan was a fighter who was wrapped up in bandages. It was pretty obviouse that they were recieved on the trip here. But these men were somewhat of outcast from their tribes because of their desire to bring an end to the fued between the groups. They were trying to figure out what was causing this behavior on both their sides. We are going to go back and met with them after we finish the debrief here.
"That's passing strange," Gherben marvels. "I didn't think there'd be heads clear enough for that on either side, let alone both. Do you think they know something? Know enough to confirm the disappearances, at least?"
"This whole thing occured three days ago and it has left the Khanshi Telabah "upset". No Clue who that is but I am guessing one of the big wigs. When the drunk Drani passed out he dropped a medal which we found out was given to the brothers regiment as an honor."
"'Khanji' is the name of their emperor. His family members adopt it for themselves as well, which means this one is the biggest wig of the lot.
Disappearances are obviously bad news, but to affect their ambassador? When it's just a few expendable warriors, even if one of them is decorated, from a people not exactly known for being disciplined? There must be more to it..."
... Oh apparently everybody thinks I'm a Tarthen..."
"It's your armour. They only see armour as heavy as that on Tarthenen knights."
Gherben recapitulates quickly:
"In short: there are definitely Drani missing, and probably Tarthenen as well. No-one of real value though, so we can assume it's not a matter of ransom or leverage, but it has those in charge in either camp unnerved.
The horses are fine, as far as we know, which is a good thing for us if we want to trade and which means we can rule that out as a cause for the odd behaviour.
And finally, Stranger and Malic may get to take a look inside the Tarthenen camp tomorrow while Thorik and Gerin may have found a pair of allies with inside knowledge.
Not bad for one evening, all told. I didn't forget anything? It's still a big mystery to me, but we know a damn sight more than we did a few hours ago."
"I didn't forget anything?"
"Aye. Don' ferget the ale at the mead hall tastes like ****. Don' bother. It's nah worth it!"
Turning away from Malic he again looks at Gherben.
"Don' make the same mistake as me."
Just before dismissing the group so Thorik and Gerin can meet up again with their new contacts, Gherben remembers something Stranger had said earlier.
ooc
Um Pagnur did you intend on letting the group go? By the sounds of your post you hadn't dissmissed us yet because Gherben had a thought.
Um Pagnur did you intend on letting the group go? By the sounds of your post you hadn't dissmissed us yet because Gherben had a thought.
You know, if it is minor warriors that are disappearing from let's say both sides and both sides are unhappy about it, that usually means they were guarding something, held some item, or had some significance themselves. If only we can find out why it was important that they disappeared."
Gerin leads the way leaving behind all his weaponry save for his sword. His shield is left as well.
glad I dropped off all that stuff... things were getting out of hand.
When at the tavern Gerin sits with the two men if they are there and updates them on what he has learned.
ooc
For the sake of time, because i don't have much just assume Gerin tells them everything from when they split to when they got back to the camp.
For the sake of time, because i don't have much just assume Gerin tells them everything from when they split to when they got back to the camp.
"He stated that they had few mutual enemies and that the Qan's nephew is here. One Khanji Telabah. Which of course, Gherbin mentioned already." The Stranger said, happy that Gherbin was pleased with his results. "Mm, also, the Tarthenen have begun to send invitations at last, according to Kheffrem din-Tenu'ared al-Jehared. He was sent one just before it would have been entirely unreasonable.
"Din-Tenu'ared? Your source is din-Tenuared?"
Gherben's jaw practically falls to his knees.
"He isn't known in these parts, but do you have any idea what stories there are told about him in the far south? It's all rumours and I don't know much even about those, but if just a fraction is true you have found a very powerful ally."
ooc
For the sake of time, because i don't have much just assume Gerin tells them everything from when they split to when they got back to the camp.
"Did any of your sources mention what could the reason be?"
Gerin addresses the bandaged Tarthen.
"Yes the other two memberers of the guard detail are going to be looking into your peoples camp tomorrow."
"Oh?" The Stranger asked, curious. "Do tell, if you will. What were the rumors?"
"It depends on who's telling the tale, but they all agree on one thing: the man has power. Extensive magical power. I've heard it say he tricked a djinnie into eternal service. Other rumours say he's collected the souls of several arcane masters and bound them to his blood, usurping their talent. I've even heard it say he's an avatar of a trickster god.
Now if you ask me, he doesn't mind the rumours. Wouldn't be surprised if he started some of them himself. But there's no doubt in my mind he's not your average mortal like you or me."
Gherben's still shaking his head.
"I'm not too surprised you didn't recognize the name, since he seems to be locked to his desert home and has no interest in setting out further into the world. Except to trade horses, apparently."
In any case, I think I'm going to turn in early. I have to rise when the dawn breaks tomorrow, so as to be there before the nobles awake. Then I will try to get more answers for you."
"Did any of your sources mention what could the reason be?"
"No... But when I asked we didn't know about the disappearances. With this, I will probably be able to find out more. Better questions lead to better answers, no?"
Telas looks pleased.
"Feel like tagging along with me tomorrow? I could use some backup on a couple of meetings."
"Yes the other two memberers of the guard detail are going to be looking into your peoples camp tomorrow."
Halfrid, the Tarthen, nods.
"I'll take a stroll there myself. That much I'm still allowed to do. Maybe I'll be able to help your friends out. Can you describe them to me?"
In any case, I think I'm going to turn in early. I have to rise when the dawn breaks tomorrow, so as to be there before the nobles awake. Then I will try to get more answers for you."
"Good idea. I won't be much longer myself, probably, unless I can get into a card game with some people I know from last year. If you're up before me, don't wake me, ok?"
Gerin cracks a rare true grin at the inqury about the other group.
"Well one of them will blend in with the Tarthens and has a great big sword. The other will blend in with nobody except perhapse a perticularly odd group of entertainers. He wears a mask. Sometimes I call him Mask but mostly he goes by Stranger with us. Claims to have no name, and you will undoubtably know him for who he is the moment you see him."
Would love to see Halfrid face when he sees Mask. Will have to ask Malic about it.
"Well I don't belive there is much more we can do tonight. I think it it time to retire. Lots to do tomorrow."
Gerin turns to his silent companion.
"Ready Thorik? Don't be grouchy about the mead it can't be all that bad. And you can step into a tavern without drinking. It isn't blasphamy or anything like that."
When teh two men go retire for the night Malic remains up cleaning his sword, waiting for Gerin and Thorik to return. As Malic works he softly hums a slow sad tune to himself.
"Good seein' the two of ya again. This'll be me last time here. Think they've a horse in the back fillin' cups."
He gives them a cockeyed, tired look, and nods his farewell. He walks quietly out with Gerin, and follows slowly back to camp.
He nods a silent greeting to Malic as he enters the tent, and removes his armors letting them fall to the floor.
"Wake me when it's time." he says followed by loud snoring.
Gerin stares at the snoring dwarf.
It looks as if you will have company tomorrow. The Tarthen outcast is going to try and find you in the camp. He will help with the search. We will be doing the same tomorrow with the Drani outcast."
Gerin takes his armor off as well and preps for bed.
"See you in the morning."
Gerin knocks off as well, sleeping peacefuly.
Gerin eats his morning meal, and helps Malic get his armor on.
"I'm not going to wear mine today. I will stick out terribly amongst the Drani. Just my shield and sword."
Inspecting Malics armor Gerin pulls and tugs at plates, wiggling it around checking the fit. Mumbling to himself the whole while.
"A little loose here..... there not too tight?... Good. Hopefuly we will not need it."
Gerin seems to be paying a little extra attention to Malics armor, a little uneasy about leaving his own behind. When done Gerin leads the way in search of Telas.
"I really don't like not wearing something though. Just a breast plate would make me feel better."
"The drink? Ye mean that cider? Tasted like apples. I'll have me one of them fer breckfast, I think."
He bounds to his feet and throws his head to the side for an audible pop. He stretches for a total of three seconds, grabs his gear, and is ready for the day.
"Not wearin' that armor woon't exactly make ye blend..."
He straightens the hammers across his chest and raises a brow at the two men doning their armor. He makes for the tent flap while reaching for his pipe.
"I'll leave ye boys alone."
Walking out into the cool breeze, he stays just outside the door. Finally managing a light, he enjoys a peaceful morning smoke. Only when he finishes, does the drizzle start. Mostly covered by the awning he waits.
Malic hefts his sword and buckles the heavy blade onto his back, "just mind what you say. The one Drani that we talked to was more interested in my choice of weaponry than seeing me use it."
Pulling on his gauntlet Malic smiles, "just be careful of Thorik, he tends to get grumpy if he doesn't get a good bit of ale in him."
When done Gerin leads the way in search of Telas.
Telas comes walking up when Gerin and Thorik have gone only a hundred yards or so.
"Good morning. Refreshing weather we're having today. Are you prepared? We may have to do a fair bit of walking today, unless you prefer to get about on horseback."
The Drani looks approvingly at Gerin's lighter getup for the day.
Telas comes walking up when Gerin and Thorik have gone only a hundred yards or so.
"Good morning. Refreshing weather we're having today. Are you prepared? We may have to do a fair bit of walking today, unless you prefer to get about on horseback."
The Drani looks approvingly at Gerin's lighter getup for the day.
"Not much fer horse meself," the dwarf replies warily. "but I can manage if ye like.."
"Not much fer horse meself," the dwarf replies warily. "but I can manage if ye like.."
"Nonono," Telas is quick to ward off any such suggestion.
"I firmly believe in keeping my feet on the ground. One of the many reasons I'm not held in great esteem amongst my kin. I wouldn't mind if you'd prefer to is all."
The guard thumbs behind him, to the entrance of the closest tent. Inside several stewards are bustling, evidently waiting for more important guests than two unknown adventurers fresh in from the middle of nowhere.
He steps past them and walks towards the tent. Hopefully into it as well. The moment he steps in, he stands to the side flagging down any nearby servants. "Where may I change into appropriate attire for festivities?"
It was something he learned long ago: act like you belong and, while people will eventually question it, it will be easier on you in the long run.
"Nonono," Telas is quick to ward off any such suggestion.
"I firmly believe in keeping my feet on the ground. One of the many reasons I'm not held in great esteem amongst my kin. I wouldn't mind if you'd prefer to is all."
"I see yer a wise man." he replies with a grin. "Lead on then."
The dwarf follows quickly behind. Quickly for a dwarf that is.
"Where may I change into appropriate attire for festivities?"
It was something he learned long ago: act like you belong and, while people will eventually question it, it will be easier on you in the long run.
Either by luck or the axiom proving true, Stranger's old lesson is still of value. A flustered young page hurriedly ushers him and Malic through the tent and to another, much smaller, adjoining one where several other entertainers are getting ready, stringing lutes, limbering up or juggling a wide range of convenient objects. The pages runs off again, evidently afraid not to be ready when his appointed charge arrives if he dawdles.
The seneschal the guard mentioned is nowhere in sight: likely he's too occupied with last-minute preparations.
"Mebbe it be your partner's mask, friend, distracting our employers, but it be miraculous you made it inside with yon weaponry on your person," one of a trio of gnome jugglers and contortionists says to Malic.
"Mebbe it be better if you left the more obvious ones here. Goliath over there suffered through an hour of them going over his implements before they let him in."
Goliath turns out to be a bear of a man with a brace of daggers and thin blades, which he apparently swallows as part of his act.
"In any case, you can leave your equipment with my gear if you desire, unless you think of something more brilliant." He continued before stepping behind any cloth he could find. "I'll be changing." This followed by a quick series of solid thuds, each a layer of clothing coming off and falling back on, complete with padding to fill out the Stranger's form a little.
"Lead on then."
"Very well. We're going to see a nephew of mine first. He lost an arm in an accident long ago and has worked the stables ever since. People don't tell him much, but he hears a lot more than that anyway. Used to be we got along decently well, hopefully he'll remember some of that."
Telas walks straight towards the entrance of the Drani camp. He must not be so unwelcome as to be turned away on sight.
After that he presses back out of the performer's tent to stand off to the side to listen to the conversations going on.
He stepped back into the performer's 'chamber', such as it was and nodded to the gnomes. "Well, this should be good fun. Hm, are we all doing separate performances?" He asked, looking about at what he had before him: minstrels, performers... fine material for a fine story.
"If any among you are interested, I have a fine idea..."
Thorik will simply nod at the sentry if any eye contact is made. Otherwise he stays silent.
After that he presses back out of the performer's tent to stand off to the side to listen to the conversations going on.
None of the invited visitors have arrived yet, but the first will probably appear any minute now. None of the Tarthenen pages and stewards pay Malic any mind, but he can see guards posted in the other tents, where refreshments are waiting and presumably most of the entertainment will take place. Once everyone goes there, it will probably become more difficult not to attract notice if he remains equally aloof.
"If any among you are interested, I have a fine idea..."
"Well now, if it's a fine idea..."
Goliath mock-raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms before his chest. The gnomes snicker a bit, but they look up at Stranger expectantly.
Thorik will simply nod at the sentry if any eye contact is made. Otherwise he stays silent.
One of the guards looks both Gerin and Thorik up and down while his companion converses briefly in Drani with Telas, then waves them on in.
"It's ok, we can come in to visit my old friend. They have just about cut me out completely, but there's nothing they respect like true loyalty. And they don't consider us a threat anyway, I suspect that was more of an argument to help them make up their minds."
I'm a storyteller, you see. I particularly love epics. Those lend well to the various trades I see before me. Between the best minstrels and the greatest performers, I could weave a story and it could unfold before them. We each play a part, we each contribute to one lengthy performance that will catch them all. When we part, we will all be remembered for our artistry.
If you all agree, I'll go over it with each of you, using hand gestures to signify parts. No lines to remember, as I will do the speaking parts though the acting will be in your hands. I'll describe, the minstrel picks the appropriate music, you perform.
What say you?"
ooc
Trying to get them to give a whole lot of aid anothers in other words. Diplomacy +10 if needed.
If you all agree, I'll go over it with each of you, using hand gestures to signify parts. No lines to remember, as I will do the speaking parts though the acting will be in your hands. I'll describe, the minstrel picks the appropriate music, you perform.
What say you?
"The Zavona brothers don't need anyone to make them look good, stranger," one of the gnomes says - eliciting another raised eyebrow from Goliath, though no comment - "... but I suppose no acrobat minds a bit of a leg-up, right? Ok, count us in."
Goliath is quick to agree too, since swallowing blades by definition precludes adding a vocal part to the best part of the show, and one by one the other artists follow suit as well. Not all of them are fully sold on the idea, but nobody wants to compete on his own against a joint performance of an entire troupe either.
Show
Not sure I'll handle it as a bunch of stacking Aid Anothers, but there is definitely going to be the distinct possibility of a sum-greater-than-its-parts performance.
So, here is what we can do... what is everyone's skill set exactly? We'll see what we can come up with together and I'll go over the story with you, see what everyone can contribute."
ooc
Sounds good to me.
Gerin does not seem to mind the rain very much, his step is brisk and a little bouncy. Seems he is enjoying the freedom from the armor.
So, here is what we can do... what is everyone's skill set exactly? We'll see what we can come up with together and I'll go over the story with you, see what everyone can contribute."
The Zavonas are acrobats and jugglers and Goliath is a sword swallower, as Stranger had already found out. Syllanestra and Fiana are flutists who accompany Hadise, a dancer who also uses tambourines: they are known as the Serpentine Sisters. Furthermore, there is a half-elf minstrel with his lute who goes by the name of Darcy Glimmereyes and the halfling illusionist Kerrygan the Subtle. Finally, the roster is completed by Hangarah Dinarah, who sings a capella ballads.
"It is a shame to be cut off from your people. All you do is to improve thier place on this world, yet you are scorned for it. People should stand with and by their people, I am sorry for the lose of yours because of their short mindedness. But you have the light bringer which is something great. Perhapse you can find comradary there."
"Your words are kind, but you present my character too favourably. My exile is as much of my own choosing as it is imposed, probably more so. I've chosen a solitary path, placing my individual wants above those of my people. It's surprising they haven't reacted more harshly. And I am grateful for that, as for Halfrid seeking me out every now and then, since I've found I value the occasional reprieve from my solitude. Not enough to return to more traditional Drani ways though."
Goliath shakes his head.
"It's not a matter of steady hands - although those are needed too - but of getting everything lined up properly. I have to stand straight, and the sword has to come from above my head. It could work with one of my smaller blades if that other person was standing high enough, I suppose, but he'd almost have to stand on my shoulders."
Gerin asks their guide various questions about him until they arrive at the stables. All the while looking around looking for something that is out of place.
"How old is your nephew."
"Six or seven years younger than I am, if I recall. Thirty, give or take a year."
Neither Gerin nor Thorik notices anything that looks out of the ordinary, insofar as they are able to tell in the unfamiliar surroundings. The camp consists of dozens of round tents in all sizes, made from wool, leather and hide. The one Telas refers to as the "stable" isn't anything like a conventional one. Horses are not sheltered here, unless they're sick or wounded. It's fairly small and mostly used to repair and store tack, as well as the tools of the trade for a horsemaster and vet.
A onearmed man is sitting outside, under a raised weatherproof sail, carefully cutting strips of leather to size. It must be difficult, but he makes it look like a simple task even with one hand.
"Good morning, Sattar. Good to see you are well, nephew. Meet Gerin and Thorik, two recent acquaintances of mine. I wondered if you could help us out."
"Hello, Telas. It's been a while. Used to be I saw you twice a seaso, now it's been two without word."
Sattar doesn't sound perturbed by the long absence of his nephew.
"What brings you around this time?"
"No, that's out of the question."
Goliath shakes his head.
"It's not a matter of steady hands - although those are needed too - but of getting everything lined up properly. I have to stand straight, and the sword has to come from above my head. It could work with one of my smaller blades if that other person was standing high enough, I suppose, but he'd almost have to stand on my shoulders."
"Ah, I see." The Stranger said with a nod. "As you can tell, I am not altogether familiar with your art. Still, I think I have just the thing. A moment, please."
He quickly made his way to his bag and began to dig through it, pulling out random tidbits, odds and ends. He eventually pulled out a stack of papers, notes and other such things. It was quite thick and seemed rather mismatched, with pieces of stone with chiseled words held tightly to paper. He leafed through these, constantly muttering "Cyntherio, Cyntherio" until he interrupted himself with an "aHa! Cyntherio."
That done, he came up with a few pages, which he handed to the Serpentine Sisters and the minstrel. "It's nowhere near finished, I'm afraid, but this will give you an idea of the mood I'm going for: dark and hopeless in the beginning, slowly rising into triumph and joy in the end, almost imperceptibly. It only has the first act. We're not even covering that, since we are improvising as such.
Sisters, Goliath, and the Zavonas I have special parts for you: while there will be no speaking parts, you will each act out to an unseen enemy, playing yourselves more or less. We are going with the story of Cyntherio, inspired by the real city in the far southeast. The city has been attacked by kobolds who will put the rest of the citizens to death, but the performers of the city band together to try to ease their anger and convince them to return whence they came.
The story will be a backdrop to your usual performances. I'll gesture and announce each of you to begin after giving some background, while Glimmereyes, Syllanestra and Fiana give us mood music. We will end Dinarah, who will finish with a song that follows the theme of the story: sad and hopeless to start with, triumphant and a celebration of life to end with, putting light on the subtle shift of themes the instrumentalists began. Kerrygan, if you could occasionally provide climatic illusions?"
The story will be a backdrop to your usual performances. I'll gesture and announce each of you to begin after giving some background, while Glimmereyes, Syllanestra and Fiana give us mood music. We will end Dinarah, who will finish with a song that follows the theme of the story: sad and hopeless to start with, triumphant and a celebration of life to end with, putting light on the subtle shift of themes the instrumentalists began. Kerrygan, if you could occasionally provide climatic illusions?"
"That's my trademark, like. Subtle always, gripping when appropriate."
Kerrygan nods, perusing the substances in the many containers on his belt. Many are alchemical in nature rather than key components for spells: part of the created effects won't require magic at all.
"I think we visual performers have a show stopper, the grand finale top our act. I know I do anyway," Goliath remarks.
"The last blade, I really swallow - it goes down completely. I don't know about the Sisters" - who nod at this point - "apparently so, and the Zavonas' I've seen. Do you think you could make room for those at some point?"
How about this? Each of you performs well, but not to your utmost. This way, the crowd is interested but not overwhelmed. At the end, we give them all we have after the song, which should be delivered as best as it can be. The other performers, starting with the Serpent Sisters, on to the Zavonas, all of the instrumentalists on their own, lead up to Goliath who swallows his sword whole. Which, I will add, is incredible. I'm going to write a story about you one day.
Everyone fine with this setup? Any additions?"
Anyway, no more additions from me. I don't want to make things too complicated either."
The others agree with Goliath, and everyone makes their final preparations. That's cutting it close as it is, since the honour guard is already lining up next to the entrance. The first guests are likely but minutes away.
The musicians among the performers get a basic melody going, harmonizing easily but keepthe music low key and inobtrusive. Their true performance will begin when Stranger gives them a signal.
He heads out, letting the others step onto the stage first before eventually walking out himself. He wanted them to be in the minds of the audience more than him, wanted the focus to fall on them first and he second. Once he got there, he let the performers play for a bit before clearing his throat. "Ladies and gentleman, sirs and madams; Allow me to be your your guide into the realm of imagination this evening."
The Stranger took a moment to check where Malic was and to gauge the crowd. He would know a little more once he saw his audience.
None of the invited visitors have arrived yet, but the first will probably appear any minute now. None of the Tarthenen pages and stewards pay Malic any mind, but he can see guards posted in the other tents, where refreshments are waiting and presumably most of the entertainment will take place. Once everyone goes there, it will probably become more difficult not to attract notice if he remains equally aloof.
Malic frowns as he notes the guards, this was not what he was hoping to have to deal with. Pirates? No problem. Barbarians? Even better. Nobles? Nobles worried him, despite his schooling, he was never comfortable around the nobles. Regardless though now was not teh time for his childish insecurities he thought as he brushed the hair from his eyes. Straightening himself, Malic strode purposefully into one of the tents.
The Stranger took a moment to check where Malic was and to gauge the crowd. He would know a little more once he saw his audience.
The first guests enter the large tent the performers have chosen for the main event, accompanied by the seneschal. The latter's eyes immediately go to Stranger and he does not look pleasantly surprised. He doesn't act yet though, smoothly keeping the conversation going to avoid the invited notables thinking something's amiss.
Regardless though now was not teh time for his childish insecurities he thought as he brushed the hair from his eyes. Straightening himself, Malic strode purposefully into one of the tents.
The tent holds a number of small tables, each displaying several chilled carafes of various white wines. Malic's clothing doesn't give the impression of wealth and stature, confusing the staff at first, but his determined attitude convinces them to err on the side of caution. One of the pages steps forward and offers him a crystal glass filled with a lightly sparkling, quite acidic vintage.
"Or would your lordship prefer something else? Something with a more robust bouquet, perhaps?"
The guards don't look bored per se, but they don't seem to be too alert either. Perhaps they're there more for show than as a true precaution, or they simply put too much stock in their colleagues at the gate.
"What brings you around this time?"
"New acquaintances."
Telas indicates Thorik and Gerin.
"They're in the market for horses, but it seems there's no market to speak of. We wondered about that. Isn't that right, folks?"
Wonder if we should keep the plans to possibly mend the relationship.... or create one under wraps. Will need to ask Telas when we are alone.
"That about sums things up."
"Well, it's true. No horses for sale. That won't last though. Makes no sense to come all this way and not trade. And you know Drani don't buy horses. We only come here to sell them."
A small pile of leather strips ready cut, Sattar sifts through a a larger pile of tack, reigns and straps and such, sorting out the pieces that need to be repaired and swiftly fixing them.
"And to keep an eye on those Tarthenen fools, of course. Can't have them spreading bad rumours and setting everyone up against us."
.oO(Had I known I'd be playing dressup I would have worn something nicer.)
"No, this wil do fine," Malic responds as he takes the glass, and turns to scan the tent.
Pages walk in and out, making sure that the guests they're assigned to are well-plied with wine. In between they find sufficient time for plenty of gossip and comments though. The seneschal is definitely not held in high regard, and the pages make sure to keep each other informed of his whereabouts at all times. The poor sap who's duty this evening is to look after him gets encouraging and consoling words every time he gets away for half a minute. The guests are a mixed bag: the first impression they give firmly decides the opinion serving staff have of them - clothes, looks, demeanor. Malic doesn't overhear anything said about himself, so he has no idea what is being thought of him.
The entertainment hasn't truly begun yet - Stranger must rightfully have judged the most important guests will be the last to arrive - but so far the pages expectations are high. Stranger's mask is something the seneschal would never stand for, they're sure, so they're very anxious to see how that will turn out. The last major topic is the lineup in the honour guard: the pages were expecting to see someone else in charge of that, someone they hold in high regard. The reason for her not being there is hotly debated.
No announcements are made when guests enter, as might be the case at a formal ball, but these men and women all come with the best of reputations. Introductions are not needed here. Quite soon, Stranger notices the honour guard lined up next to the entrance is broken up: two men remain at the gate, the others station themselves all over the area of the reception. It looks like anyone of real importance has arrived.
When the attention falls upon him, he looks at each in turn.
"Can'nea trust'a Tarthen... s'what I say."
The dwarf decides to stay quiet.
Tonight, we tell the story of Cyntherio, a city to the far southeast. In times past, Cyntherio was a prosperous, wondrous city. It was called the gem of the south at various times. The gem was tarnished once by fear, however.
Cyntherio had always been in close proximity to a great Kobold den, supposedly ten times the size of an average kobold colony. The two antagonized each other regularly, but most of the time nothing really came of it. That is, until the day the crafty little dragons came in waves." It was here that the Stranger signaled the instruments. He left the illusionist to his own devices, letting him choose the best times. "Their numbers were so vast that at first the guards thought the very earth had risen up to swallow them whole. By the time they realized exactly what their foe was and the shock had worn off, the walls had already fallen. Guards rushed to their captains, only to fall prey to traps set in the night by kobold scouts and spies. The city fell with little difficulty, leaving only civilians.
The lord of the kobolds, a grizzled, ancient being by human standards, addressed the public the next night. He told them this: 'We will play a game of lives. If you can convince us that there is something worth sparing in this city, we will allow all of you to live. If you cannot, you will all burn.'
'We have children!' The women pointed out. 'We have women!' The men shouted. The kobold shook his ancient head, mottled gray and green scales hissing across one another. 'So did we.'
'We have knowledge! Books that are one of a kind!' The kobold shook his ancient head. 'And we shall take them without negotiation or resistance when you pass. What have you then but fear?'"
The Stranger gestured lightly to Goliath, signalling his entry. "'We have joy, to fight back sorrow.' Said the giant of a man, typically quiet. 'We have naught but sorrow.' The old one said. 'You have naught but sorrow this night. What joy could you possibly retain?'
'The joy of others. Give me a chance, and I will show you.' He told the kobold. The ancient one ticked blackened talons against his scales, tipping and tapping. 'No one man can impress us so. You are denied.'" The Stranger gestured to the Zavonas and the Serpent Sisters. "'Wait! We will accompany him. We know of what he speaks. Let us show you!' The others said, stepping forward and finding strength in their medium.
'You'll not achieve anything.'
'Nor will this end tonight. Others will come. So let us at least make the attempt, as you are.' The giant said. 'Fear will bind them, as it has tonight. Naught but cowards. You may try, futile though it may be.'
'So I shall.' The giant said, nodding to the others before stepping forward and attempting the impossible." The Stranger paused to allo the entirety of Goliath's act. When the man was finished, he spoke up again.
"'I am not impressed. There is no joy in this dance of blades.' The kobold said. 'You are lost.'
'We were allowed to aid him.' The halflings said. 'Allow us.'
'Swim against the sea all you wish, it will not avail you.'
'But we must try if drowning is our only other option.' So they too stepped forward to impress the old one." Another performance length pause, allowing for the others to rest and prepare. Then he spoke again. "'Empty.'
'Allow us!' The sisters said. 'Do as you wish.' Said the kobold, growing increasingly more and more distant. So they did, in dance and in music." Another perfomance. He felt this served well: a story that people could follow, with perfomances to keep them entertained if they didn't feel like listening to a story. One whole from many parts.
"'You have not brought me joy.' The kobold said. 'Allow me to warm your heart.' A minstrel said." He gestured to the minstrel, then moved on. "'No!'The Kobold shouted. 'None of it is alive! It speaks of fear, it spells uncertainty. You bring no joy: only begging.'
'Allow me.' A voice came from the crowd. 'Let me sing for you.'
'What use is it?'
'If there is a chance, there is always a use.' She said. 'You are sad and angry. We are afraid and in mourning. We hate one another. Let me sing of something finer, something greater: let me sing of joy, and remind you of what it is to love.'
'Do as you wish.'" The Stranger let her sing then, smiling under his mask. It was beautiful, really: a story that was not a story. He found it terribly exciting.
He remained silent for five seconds after she finished, hanging his head. Then he spoke. "'That...' The kobold was baffled. The others were elated at his hesitation and, before he could speak, stepped forward in their turns, as they had before, but with one key difference: the singer had given them hope. The singer had given them their song back.
They were each of them inspired, ready to impress and make as light of the situation as they could. They were ready to perform for their audience, not for the kobold who wished to slay them all. Even should they fail, they knew to make this their finest performance. So they did." He gestured to each in reverse order, starting with the Minstrel and ending with Goliath's sword swallow, to woo and impress the crowd. All told, while the time flew, the Stranger was sure this took some time. The better to let the performers get used to one another while still keeping their own performances intact.
"'I concede.' The ancient one finally said, shaking his bowed head. 'There is beauty here. There is skill and the ability to create joy.
Send to us these performers, so that we may find joy in your people once again and erase your crimes against us. Let them make us forget our lost children, our dead wives. Let us weep, and be renewed.
But know this: we expect joy henceforth. Sorrow will be answered by sorrow, hate by hate.' He said, departing with his people.
So it was that performers saved the ancient city of Cyntherio. Or rather, its people. While never truly a peace, the kobolds and that shining gem had an accord, a truce. The hate would never go away, but an understanding came of it.
Cyntherio stands now and forever." The Stranger said in ending, bowing to the crowd.
ooc
Perform +12.
"Can'nea trust'a Tarthen... s'what I say."
Sattar looks Thorik up and down, juggling a few more straps with his remaining hand, before going on: "Got that right, dwarf."
He does hesitate a little before continuing.
"... I'm not sure how they'd have a hand in this though. What do you know about what's going on?"
Malic sips at his wine as he turns to find a sear. Preferably in the back, his ears open and listening for any more information he could glean.
Most of what Malic picks up is simple gossip. Nothing of interest, unless he wants to know the juicy bits about who sees who for a tryst during the weeks away from home. People really can't keep anything a secret, it seems.
He does catch snatches of conversations about the missing captain, allwoing him to puzzle together a few things: her name is Katrine Fürstenwaldt and she was last seen two or three days before the Tarthenen caravan arrived at the fair. Nothing was found to indicate foul play, and two of the soldiers serving under her disappeared at the same time. Six mounts have also gone unaccounted for since then.
"So it was that performers saved the ancient city of Cyntherio. Or rather, its people. While never truly a peace, the kobolds and that shining gem had an accord, a truce. The hate would never go away, but an understanding came of it.
Cyntherio stands now and forever." The Stranger said in ending, bowing to the crowd.
The crowd initially doesn't pay much attention to the performance, continuing their conversations and making contacts. Only gradually the various twos and threes fall silent and become absorbed by the story, turning towards the artists as Stranger's tale enfolds before their eyes and ears. There are some oohs and aahs and smatterings of quiet applause after particularly well done parts, but mostly the audience allows itself to be transported and only responds when the show culminates and Stranger lets everyone take another turn in the spotlight, showing their appreciation with more applause. The show is well-received, but these people are not easily impressed and too jaded to show the true joy and enthusiasm more down to earth common folk would be glad to bestow on such fine artists.
The seneschal nods after the performance, looking satisfied, but briefly takes Stranger aside after a few minutes: "Do stick around after the reception is over. We have some things to discuss, you and I."
OoC
Took me a little while to come up with something I was satisfied with, since the rolls were quite disappointing for the amount of effort and creativity you put into this, Stranger. I expected better, but a memorable performance nonethless. The dice just weren't with you on this one.
A few breaths later, he regained his calm as he stepped down and vaguely listened to the Seneschal. He shouldn't despise the people: the performance was quickly hashed together and this was no easy crowd. A victory? No, he couldn't count it as that. A step in the right direction? Yes. Channel the anger into something constructive, something beautiful. Listen to the song, to the people, to... to the Seneschal! He was talking! What had he said?
The Stranger thought for a moment, trying to reestablish what was going on. Play, Seneschal... likely wishes to arrest him. However, the man seemed pleased enough. In either case, it was advisable to remain.
Mentally organizing the notes of the song he could never share, forever echoing through his mind, the Stranger bowed to the man. "Of course, sir, of course. I will be near the stage." He said. Sure enough, he was, spending nary a thought on the predicament of the horses, instead situating himself at a table to write and think.
He had to do better. It was, he did note with some elation, not a complete failure.
After the seneschal finishes with Stranger Malic approaches the masked man, speaking in a hushed tone he asks the masked man, "what was that about?"
"We were thinking perhapse you have over heard conversation about this."
"Telas been saying things about me, is that it?"
Sattar looks wrily amused.
"Here's how it is: we got a decorated officer missing, with two of his men and six horses, and nothing that looks like they were attacked. Scouts were sent out, they couldn't find any fresh trails. No idea where they went, if they went anywhere. But I know my horses: no chance this side of life they wouldn't have gone willingly yet not raise enough hell to wake even those fat nobles in the Tarthenen camp sleeping off their sour wine."
"We found out as much last night. From the officers screw up brother. We found him drinking himself to sleep and carried him home. We also hear that the uppers in your clan are pretty bent out of shape over this whole deal. Any insight on that?"
ooc
Can I get some clarification on the horses going willingly and all that. The way you worded it isn't as clear as I would like.
The way I read it the horses would have gone willingly but would have raised the dead with the noise they would have made.... This just does not make much sense to me.
Can I get some clarification on the horses going willingly and all that. The way you worded it isn't as clear as I would like.
The way I read it the horses would have gone willingly but would have raised the dead with the noise they would have made.... This just does not make much sense to me.
"We found out as much last night. From the officers screw up brother. We found him drinking himself to sleep and carried him home. We also hear that the uppers in your clan are pretty bent out of shape over this whole deal. Any insight on that?"
Sattar purses his lips.
"Right, well... It's just a hunch, ok, but the only ways those that did a runner could have gotten away fast enough and still concealed their tracks are magic or using a road that was riddled with tracks already. They're not scouts: they might be good at covering a trail, but not good enough to sneak past the real deal in a hurry. I don't see any reason to think they'd have magic, so they must have followed the trail back home so they wouldn't have to bother with more than the basics to conceal their tracks. There'll be hoofprints in all directions on that trail anyway, even leading away from here.
Now our scouts aren't dumb. They'll have figured the same thing. So those the Qan put in charge can assume those three went back home. That's the real puzzler: desertion is already unthinkable for a decorated officer who has the Qan's favour, but deserting and running back to our own lands? How does that add up?"
ooc
Sorry if the wording was a bit confusing: what Sattar said is that if the horses had been taken against their will, by someone unknown, they would have made a giant ruckus. He didn't notice anything, so he concludes the horses must have gone along willingly.
Sorry if the wording was a bit confusing: what Sattar said is that if the horses had been taken against their will, by someone unknown, they would have made a giant ruckus. He didn't notice anything, so he concludes the horses must have gone along willingly.
With that Malic strides away to mingle with the crowd and inquire about Captain Fürstenwaldt as subtly as possible.
He set aside the various sheets of paper and looked up, to see if he could find the Seneschal. He would know quite a lot.
He set aside the various sheets of paper and looked up, to see if he could find the Seneschal. He would know quite a lot.
The seneschal is quite busy at first, making sure all the guests are well looked after and comfortable, but his function this day is apparently limited to protocol: once everything is well underway and animated conversations have been struck up everywhere, the man keeps himself more and more in the background. His eyes don't miss a single step anyone of the staff makes though. After a while it looks like he is no longer completely absorbed by the goings-on and he might be amenable to a well-phrased word.
ooc
Gather Information +2. Gah. At least you have some related skills that can help out. :P
Nevertheless, any idea how you want to approach this? Merely dropping her name is probaby going to draw attention, unless you have a reason ready to explain your interest? Normally I'd just play it out and see what you come up with, but I have no idea how you envision 'subtly' here. ;)
With that Malic strides away to mingle with the crowd and inquire about Captain Fürstenwaldt as subtly as possible.
Gather Information +2. Gah. At least you have some related skills that can help out. :P
Nevertheless, any idea how you want to approach this? Merely dropping her name is probaby going to draw attention, unless you have a reason ready to explain your interest? Normally I'd just play it out and see what you come up with, but I have no idea how you envision 'subtly' here. ;)
"You wished to speak with me, sir?"
"Ah. Yes. The performer."
The seneschal leads Stranger outside the tent, where they can talk without being overheard by the guests.
"I really wished to have spoken with you before you went on and reorganized the entertainment for our gathering. What is your name?"
He's not pleased. He must not like being bypassed by unknown performers beneath his station.
In any case, for your troubles I am willing to sacrifice my pay." The Stranger said, gesturing graciously to show he meant neither harm nor ill.
First a good mood. Then they could discuss matters of security.
OoC
Bluff +8 if needed. Half truths are fun. :P
Diplomacy +12.
Diplomacy +12.
Your little show earlier was received well enough after all though, so you will be paid what you are owed, as will the others."
The seneschal puts on a magnanimous expression, indicating this should be valued as a generous gesture on his part.
A merchant hired us as bodyguards and his hands, you see. He wishes the best for those he trades with. I am here, on his behalf, to not only aid you but keep it as quiet as possible.
Though I wouldn't mind another shot at that stage. Truly, while not here to be entertained, if they are the seneschal in question is often remembered for a fine night of luxury, uninterrupted. At the very least, after a fine performance the performers are often spoken to by those who were impressed. Rather than pay, allow me to speak on your behalf after another performance. We will receive our information and aid you as you feel best, perhaps you will get the raise you rightfully deserve, and tensions will dwindle.
What think you, sir?"
"What think you, sir?"
The seneschal roughly grabs Stranger's arm and pulls him deeper into the shadows between the tents.
"I think blurting out that kind of information isn't very smart, unless..."
He stares in the Silver Sword's eyes for a long time, suspicion and curiosity causing him to frown deeply.
"You shouldn't play these games if the ante's too rich for your purse, you know."
"I've nothing to lose, sir. If I can help, then I have everything to gain."
"You don't look like you've got nothing to lose, but suppose I give you the benefit of the doubt... What's this about missing Drani?"
Curiosity and suspicion have been replaced by greed in the man's eyes.
There is a lot in this for you, sir." The Stranger said, clicking twenty gold in the palm of his hand. "Even if my words should fall on deaf ears in that tent, there is worth in this endeavor."
"But finding out what happened to Fürstenwaldt or evidence of something happening to the Drani we can benefit from, that would be a major stroke of fortune.
You have nothing to say about the Drani? Are you holding out on me? Remember, I just have to say the word and you're not leaving this camp again..."
"Positive, sir. Tell me a little more about Fürstenwaldt. What was the situation?"
"Ah, Fürstenwaldt..."
The seneschal waves his hand dismissively.
"Good family, model officer, doesn't drink, doesn't gamble, no vices - and well-liked by everyone serving under her. On a fast career straight to the highest levels of our military structure."
It sounds like the man expended a great deal of effort trying to find something not so perfect regarding the captain and was frustrated at every turn.
"And then a couple of days ago she ups and vanishes, along with two trusted lieutenants, full kit, food for a week and spare mounts."
And now that something finally presented itself, he can barely hide his glee.
"Best guess: she went straight back home. Our outriders couldn't find anything to indicate otherwise anyway. Messenger birds were sent yesterday, they'll be waiting for her to arrive.
But that isn't important: you must have something to tell me! How many Drani went missing, when, what happened?"
"Imagine, if you will, what a rising star could do for you. I've seen them: the nobles ignore you, the guard will not see you as high enough. You are not in the position you deserve."
"You'll have to check with the other group, sir."
The seneschal, exasperated, begins to say something but then catches himself.
"I see. You don't want to talk. I don't think you have all that much, so why should I give you a hand? You're just fishing. Be happy I leave it at that, and that you'll get to walk out the gate on your own two feet."
With that, and a disparaging snort, he sweeps off, leaving Stranger standing between the tents.
With that Malic strides away to mingle with the crowd and inquire about Captain Fürstenwaldt as subtly as possible.
Before long and entirely by accident, Malic overhears two whispering servants talking about the seneschal who one of them saw with the masked performer.
"They were talking about captain Katrine, I tell you. What do you think that old coot is up to now?"
"How should I know? Did he find out about the handkerchief with the talisman? Is he trying to set her up as a traitor?"
"You really think he'd go that far? The miserable bastard..."
Unless they are meeting someone in secret.
"Do you know if the missing officer had a signifigant other. Was he courting someone perhaps?"
Feel like I am grasping at straws... Hopefuly Malic and Mask are having some luck. Well we have the rest of the day to poke around.
Gerin shifts his weight enjoying the ability to move around but still feeling a little vulnerable.
He stepped back into the tent, striding through the crowd and listening. He was mostly waiting for Malic at this point.
"Do you know if the missing officer had a signifigant other. Was he courting someone perhaps?"
"Pfft," Sattar snorts, "he probably has a dozen women fawning around him at any time and never had to lift a finger to get them either. You won't find anything looking in that direction.
Anyway, I hear lots of things but I don't think you should be talking to me. Talk to the brother. Just don't let him get drunk first."
For kindness would lead the way where greed didn't. Or that's what he hoped. "Hello again, gents. Food, courtesy of the nobles. Mind, keep it under some cloth or it will get soggy fast." He said, showing them the plates under his coat. "I brought mild drink as well. Didn't want to get you two in trouble."
"Hello again, gents. Food, courtesy of the nobles. Mind, keep it under some cloth or it will get soggy fast." He said, showing them the plates under his coat. "I brought mild drink as well. Didn't want to get you two in trouble."
"Courtesy of the nobles my eye," one of them says while tucking in gratefully.
"You gone done us a kindness, friend. The only officer or highborn who'd think about our grunt bellies is Fürstenwaldt, and she ain't around no more."
"What happened to her?"
"Can't say as I rightly know," the guard admits.
"She disappeared a couple of days ago, and two lieutenants with her. Horses too. Been a lot of talk about it - on the quiet like, a man's like to risk a lashing if he's overheard by one of them high and mighty rich folk - but no-one's really saying anything, if you know what I mean. Her page might know something, but he hasn't let on about it. And he has been lashed for it."
The guards polish off the plates of food in a hurry, although they keep the cups set aside so they can make the drinks last.
"Do us one more favour and drop these plates off in the kitchen? If we're seen with them, we're next in line for a lashing."
He immediately stashed the plates under his coat, ready to carry them off to the kitchen tent. It was easy enough to figure out where it was: that is where all the servants came from.
"Would you know where to find him. We did him a favor of sorts last night. Perhapse he is feeling grateful."
"It's still early in the day. He's probably still in his tent, praying for his hangover to go away. I heard he was dropped off yesterday, completely hammered."
Sattar's grin shows he has little sympathy for the man.
"He'll be even more sorry if someone finds him a job to do though. You might be doing him another favour if you can get him halfway cleaned up before that happens."
"I'd be glad to." The Stranger said, taking the plates from the two men. "Could you tell me your names? I'm interested in hearing this page's story and I think it might be easier to find the lad if I have a name to mention to the cooks. His as well, if you have it."
"I doubt he's going to tell you anything, friend. And I don't want to be you if the high-ups find out, but it's your hide, not mine. That's why I don't want you mentioning my name either, sorry. But the lad's name is Dieter von Erlsen."
He sought the kitchen first and foremost, handing the plates to whichever servant looked to be going that way. "Pardon," He said to the servant. "I have something to give to a..." He paused again, digging through his bag and glancing at a blank piece of paper before stuffing it back in.
"...a Dieter von Erlsen. Where is his tent?"
"Pardon," He said to the servant. "I have something to give to a..." He paused again, digging through his bag and glancing at a blank piece of paper before stuffing it back in.
"...a Dieter von Erlsen. Where is his tent?"
The servant grabs the plates and immediately moves on after answering and pointing out a tent: the staff is kept on a tight leash, it seems.
"Wine table. It's over there."
He moved towards the tent, then the wine table, looking for someone of that appearance. Someone relatively young as well.
The old man walked with a faint limp, minding his right leg and favoring it some as he made his way over to the youth in an indirect path from the outside, ensuring that he did not have to pass through the tent and reducing his chances of the Seneschal noting his passage. Once he reached the other side he checked to see if the youth was still there. If he was, he would step up and walk a little to the right of him. "Dieter von Erlsen?" The Stranger said, his voice as smooth as ever.
"Dieter von Erlsen?" The Stranger said, his voice as smooth as ever.
The boy looks up, only slightly apprehensive when he sees an unknown elderly man addressing him. He must be about 14 years old, although his slight build might make him look younger than he actually is.
"I am Dieter von Erlsen. Do I know you?"
"I'm afraid we've never met. I'm here to find the captain. I heard you could help and in fact hoped for her safe return. I know this can cause you great trouble, so perhaps I should work alongside you or move to a safe location?"
"I don't know what you mean, sir. About being able to help, that is."
Dieter looks torn though, and he doesn't ask Stranger to leave. He stays fidgeting next to the wagon where he put the empty amphoras, biting his lip.
You are in luck; one of the merchants wishes for this to be solved so that he may return to trading. Come with me and I'll tell you more. You can choose where." The Stranger offered.
"You are in luck; one of the merchants wishes for this to be solved so that he may return to trading. Come with me and I'll tell you more. You can choose where." The Stranger offered.
"The others will cover for me for a short while," Dieter replies.
"We can talk here, but what can I tell you? I don't have anything to do with lady Morgen leaving."
He isn't ready to tell Stranger any secrets, but he does sound like he could be persuaded to confide in an outsider given the right incentive.
ooc
Not doing really well with the Diplomacy checks so far, but nothing disastrous either. A good argument and a slightly better roll might tip the scales.
Even the smallest tidbit, even the most miniscule detail may lead us to finding her. If it so happens that she left of her own choosing, then we can hear her side and aid her if need be. We really mean only the best, my friend.
No matter the situation, I need your help. To help her."
"No matter the situation, I need your help. To help her."
"Why do you think she needs help? Lady Morgen is the most capable knight I know. She wouldn't fail her duties to Tarthen, ever."
He looks stubborn, almost offended, but at least he's talking.
If there is nothing else to be said to Sattar Gerin moves on to find their drinking buddy from the prior night.
Before long and entirely by accident, Malic overhears two whispering servants talking about the seneschal who one of them saw with the masked performer.
"They were talking about captain Katrine, I tell you. What do you think that old coot is up to now?"
"How should I know? Did he find out about the handkerchief with the talisman? Is he trying to set her up as a traitor?"
"You really think he'd go that far? The miserable bastard..."
Malic strides up to the two servants and in a soft whisper he joins in on the conversation, "excuse me? I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Would you be able to tell me more about this talisman?"
"Why do you think she needs help? Lady Morgen is the most capable knight I know. She wouldn't fail her duties to Tarthen, ever."
He looks stubborn, almost offended, but at least he's talking.
"I doubt she would." The Stranger said. "Yet, all the same, even the greatest of knights may need help some of the time. Not everyone honors the way of a knight and strength is not needed to fight dirty."
"We we are the ones that dropped him off. Where is his tent?"
If there is nothing else to be said to Sattar Gerin moves on to find their drinking buddy from the prior night.
Following Sattar's instructions, the trio quickly locate the tent. Loud snoring can be heard emanating from it from quite a bit of distance, and when coming closer there's an unmistakable sour smell of vomit hanging in the air. The man really let himself go.
"excuse me? I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Would you be able to tell me more about this talisman?"
The servants start when Malic adresses them, expressions of guilt plain on their faces, but quickly turn to bravado: "What's it to you? None of your business, is it?"
"I doubt she would." The Stranger said. "Yet, all the same, even the greatest of knights may need help some of the time. Not everyone honors the way of a knight and strength is not needed to fight dirty."
"She said..." Dieter begins to reply, heat in his voice, but he immediately realizes he's given something away he shouldn't have.
"Look, sir," he goes on after taking a deep breath and calming down, "Lady Morgen knows what she's doing. And she's not too proud to ask for help if ever she needed it. I'm sure that if she finds herself in a situation beyond even her capabilities, she wouldn't hesitate to contact her superiors."
Pride is a wonderful thing and I will say that I do not doubt her skills, Dieter. I simply believe that the near impossible should not be discounted. For if she is in trouble, if she truly is, no one would know to come to an exemplar's aid." There was a distinct possibility that she was not abducted but working on her own, the Stranger noted. In which case, this line of questioning would likely not get him very far. Still, one had to try.
"I'm not attempting to stress you. I merely wish to help."
"I see." The Stranger said, nodding. "Thank you. We must find her, must seek her out. One way or another, we will eventually meet her." The Stranger said, turning to part ways while hopefully baiting the youth. "I only hope to do so as a comrade and quietly, so as not to disturb important affairs.
..
I'm not attempting to stress you. I merely wish to help."
"Why must you seek her out? No offense to you, sir, but I'm not so sure it's her you really want to help."
Dieter's digging in again but it does sound more and more like the captain doesn't want or need rescueing, at least as far as the lad knows.
The servants start when Malic adresses them, expressions of guilt plain on their faces, but quickly turn to bravado: "What's it to you? None of your business, is it?"
"I'd say it is," Malic says as he leans forward, "I was sent here by my father, to treat with the captain. So yes it is my business."
ooc
Gonna go with an intimidate check? I guess.
Gerin pulls the door to the tent to the side and walks in. Before waking the man and intoducing him to misery Gerin sits near the place the man decided to lay. Neatly avoiding the piles of sick here and there.
"Well good morning!!! Enjoying the light? Perhapse my voice? You are lucky I felt like not wearing my armor today. I could jump up and down doing a jig. Would sound like pots and pans getting bashed together along with the pain of seeing my dance."
Gerin pulls a water skin from his person and hands it over.
"Here have a drink."
"Why must you seek her out? No offense to you, sir, but I'm not so sure it's her you really want to help."
Dieter's digging in again but it does sound more and more like the captain doesn't want or need rescueing, at least as far as the lad knows.
"That's where you are incorrect, lad." The Stranger said with a wry grin. "Alas, I see that this conversation is over. Should you find the means to communicate with her, please inform her that she has enemies in this camp. The Seneschal among them. Be careful, Dieter." With that, he walked off. He had what he wanted: clarification of whether or not she was in any sort of trouble or if it was her choice.
Once he was out of sight, the hood came up and the mask went on once again. Time to wait for Malic.
"I'd say it is," Malic says as he leans forward, "I was sent here by my father, to treat with the captain. So yes it is my business."
Bravado turns back to guilt just as easily, the servants cowed by Malic's very... reasonable tone of voice.
"Apologies, good sir, we didn't mean anything by it. What was it? Ah yes, the amulet... See, one of the valets found an amulet in captain Fürstenwaldt's tent after her disappearance. It doesn't belong to her."
Here they hesitate. They look like there's more to tell, but they really don't want to.
"Well good morning!!! Enjoying the light? Perhapse my voice? You are lucky I felt like not wearing my armor today. I could jump up and down doing a jig. Would sound like pots and pans getting bashed together along with the pain of seeing my dance."
[Drani]"Ooooaaw.... My head... Go away! Aaaargh... Why are you bugging me? Leave me alone..."[/Drani]
Gerin nor Thorik can understand the man's moaning and whining, but they don't need their Drani companion to translate: the meaning is clear enough.
"Here have a drink."
Between a fit of coughing and some more painful grimaces, he manages to take the skin and gulp down a few swigs of water. He then looks up, squinting against the bright morning sun and trying to make out who's woken him up.
"You're not Drani..." he continues in acceptable Common. "What are you doing here?"
Gerin waits for a moment as if to let the hung over man to reply but Gerin steps in.
"I am not suprised.... you were in a pretty good state last night."
Gerin takes the skin back lids it and stows it. And in a very calm but serious tone gerin continues the conversation.
"We are the ones who hauled you back from your drunken stuppor. Perhapse you should take it a little more easier on the drink, too much is very bad for you. It makes people do stupid things, It makes people say things that they normaly wouldn't, and do things they normaly wouldn't. Now currently you are in very close proximity to the sworn enemies of your clan. You hate them they hate you. You say something wrong when you are compleatly alone, as you were last night, and they have had similar amounts of alchohol, you a liable to die by their hand. Take it easier ok."
Gerin sets his hand on the mans shoulder.
"We are what is called Silver Swords. We are one of the forces that protects the frontier. We came here to aquire mounts so that we may have some calviary. Problem is nobody is trading. We learned of tensions between your clans and of the dissapearances on both sides. In the interest of both parties and our own we are trying to get to the bottom of this so that it can be resolved in peace. Because that is what we do. Protect the weak and keep peace amongst the strong."
Gerin lets that sink in for a few moments. Seems he has practice speaking to hung over persons and talking reason with them.
"Last night you spoke of your brothers dissapearence. We have a few questions for you. Feel up to it?"
"Last night you spoke of your brothers dissapearence. We have a few questions for you. Feel up to it?"
"Please... Not so much talking... My head hurts..."
The man downs a few more gulps of water. They seem to help him clear his head, although he still looks miserable.
"You want to go looking for Dulasin? What do you want to know?"
Bravado turns back to guilt just as easily, the servants cowed by Malic's very... reasonable tone of voice.
"Apologies, good sir, we didn't mean anything by it. What was it? Ah yes, the amulet... See, one of the valets found an amulet in captain Fürstenwaldt's tent after her disappearance. It doesn't belong to her."
Here they hesitate. They look like there's more to tell, but they really don't want to.
"Do go on," Malic urges the servants with a nod, "I'd like to hear more."
"Do go on," Malic urges the servants with a nod, "I'd like to hear more."
The two servants look at each other for mutual support, but come up short.
"Well... It's... It's a Drani amulet..."
The first one drags out the words, and the second immediately follows with a rush: "But that doesn't mean anything, sir! Captain Fürstenwaldt is not a traitor! She couldn't be!"
"Please... Not so much talking... My head hurts..."
The man downs a few more gulps of water. They seem to help him clear his head, although he still looks miserable.
"You want to go looking for Dulasin? What do you want to know?"
"I fer one'd like t'know why drinkin' heavily does cause th'head t'throb." he says with a grin. "But gettin' t'the bottom of Dulasin's disappearance'd be good too."
The two servants look at each other for mutual support, but come up short.
"Well... It's... It's a Drani amulet..."
The first one drags out the words, and the second immediately follows with a rush: "But that doesn't mean anything, sir! Captain Fürstenwaldt is not a traitor! She couldn't be!"
"I do not doubt that she is not a traitor," Malic responded, "do you know where the amulet is now?"
"I do not doubt that she is not a traitor," Malic responded, "do you know where the amulet is now?"
"Dieter hid it, sir. Her squire."
The group is getting funny looks from some of the guards posted in the vicinity, that last outburst drawing their attention, but the fun may go out of the situation soon.
"Please sir, that's all we know. Now leave us alone, or we'll all be in trouble."
They both grab a tray and start collecting cups and plates, looking pale and wearing forced smiles, surreptitiously glancing at Malic and clearly hoping there won't be consequences for them.
Gerin pauses to let the barage to sink in and then continues with the probes.
"Was he courting anyone, was anyone interested in him, what was his reaction to them if they existed. If he were to met a person where would he do it? We have heard that the only course he could have taken was to backtrack. I belive he was meeting someone and the place to meet is somewhere back down the road. Perhapse in one of the settlements along the way."
He quickly snaps out of it and looks away. He shakes his head furiously.
He takes his small flask from his breast, and opens the cap.
"Don' know 'bout you," he starts giving the Drani a friendly nudge "but I need'a drink."
He takes a pull of the whiskey, before handing it over to the dark skinned man.
"It won't make the pounding stop, but it'll help."
"It won't make the pounding stop, but it'll help."
The man accepts the flask eagerly, taking a hearty swig, and promptly starts choking and coughing. Either he's an exception - not likely, given his recent drinking attitude - or the Drani just don't have that much experience with strong spirits. He manages to hand the flask back without spilling its contents, at least.
"Thanks, dwarf."
"We want to know everything. What did he win his medal for, who does he spend his time with, what is his personality like, has he been behaving oddly, any enemies, odd habits, well liked, distained, violent, kind, understanding, did he have more empathy than normal, why was he a respected and well decorated officer, what is your relationship with him? Were the two of you close or a little more distant than is normal among siblings? Why are you treated as you are amongst the Drani. I got the sense that you are not as well respected."
Gerin pauses to let the barage to sink in and then continues with the probes.
"Was he courting anyone, was anyone interested in him, what was his reaction to them if they existed. If he were to met a person where would he do it? We have heard that the only course he could have taken was to backtrack. I belive he was meeting someone and the place to meet is somewhere back down the road. Perhapse in one of the settlements along the way."
The Drani focuses on the last questions, perhaps unable to process everything well enough to even remember the first ones.
"Everybody is interested in Dolasin. For themselves, for their daughters or nieces... He's a hero. He can have anyone, except those too close to the Qan of course. He took what he wanted from the ones that caught his eye, but there wasn't any one he was really interested in. And there are hundreds of miles between here and the nearest tribes. Why would he meet anyone in secret?"
He leans back, groaning and clutching his head.
"And no, nobody thinks I'm fit to walk beside him. I'm as much a failure as he is a success. He is strong, fearless, liked, respected or at least feared - everything I'm not."
The Drani barely keeps from whining, but sounds more dejected and resigned than anything else. He knows he's in a deep hole and doesn't believe in getting out anymore.
Malic frowns and shakes his head, turning to see Stranger he nods and signals thatthey should probably leave.
The Stranger nods and steps out of the tent, heading out of the camp to meet the man outside rather than leave together.
One of the senior servants manages to catch up with Stranger before he's outside the camp's limits, handing him a small purse with a promising jingle to it.
"This should be to your satisfaction, sir bard. If you happen to find yourself in the Tarthenen domains in the near future, there might be more permanent employ for you to be found."
The guards nod slightly, enough to make sure Stranger notices but not so much that it'd draw attention.
He accepted the purse and nodded, his expression concealed by the ever smiling mask. Joy, sorrow, thoughtfulness: all was hidden behind the character, the persona. "Thank you very much, sir. I shall forever keep it in mind."
That done, he glanced at each guard in turn on his way out. Now, under the mask, he was happy.
If not Gerin turns to their guide.
"Do we have a second stop?"
Before they leave Gerin turns back to the hung over man.
"There is no reason that you could not step up and regain your honor. Much can be forgotten. A change in attitude and habit. But only you can do these things. Waiting for someone else to come along and fix your life will never come to fruitation. All I am telling you is that you can fix this if you want to. But you need to truely want it, wishing it will happen, asking that it will happen, and anything less than a true desire to fix this will fail."
"There is no reason that you could not step up and regain your honor. Much can be forgotten. A change in attitude and habit. But only you can do these things. Waiting for someone else to come along and fix your life will never come to fruitation. All I am telling you is that you can fix this if you want to. But you need to truely want it, wishing it will happen, asking that it will happen, and anything less than a true desire to fix this will fail."
The Drani first turns white, then green. He only barely manages to catch himself before being sick again, just nods quickly in reply to Gerin and then hurries back inside his tent.
"Do we have a second stop?"
"I had two more," Telas says, "but with what Sattar had to say one of them won't have anything to add. The other one is a scout and rear guard, probably came along with the last wagons. If your idea of Dolasin meeting up with someone in secret has anything to it, he'll be able to tell us more. If not, he'll at least know what came of the search for traces of the missing ones."
The lone Drani leads Gerin and Thorik deeper inside the camp. They draw more stares, more menacing ones too, as they draw closer to the central area but so far no-one moves to stop them. When they come upon about a dozen outriders clustered around a glowing brazier filled with coals, hissing in the rain that keeps falling, one of those notices them coming and turns his mount about, meeting the walking trio halfway.
"Still hanging around with Tarthenen, Telas? And one of them saddle-weary dwarves too, I see... A little out of place, no?"
Telas responds in Common, same as the Drani that addressed him, with a guarded smile. His relationship with the scout is more precarious than with Sattar, advising more caution.
"You know me, Dessar. I usually manage to fit in. My companions are not Tarthen, and have Drani interests at heart, whether you believe it or not."
"I've been getting that alot lately... But I assure you I am not Tarthen. And If I were a dwarf I would avoid horses as well. Sitting on something nearly as wide as you are tall would cause some undue strain the to the manly bits. Esspecialy during a trot."
Gerin gives Thorik a knowing smile.
"But you ride well Dessar, My name is Gerin of the Silverswords. We are the pseudo military of the area. We are peacekeepers, protectors, and in this case investigators. We came here to trade in horses so that we can better protect our lands with a calvary. It is difficult to trade when the best traders and best horses are not trading. We are trying to keep the tensions as low as possible between your clan, and the Tarthens whom I have been mistaken as several times. We are looking for information, nothing else. What can you tell us of your search? And please belive me we have the best intention at heart. We want nobody defamed, or harmed, peace is our upmost goal."
Best to get back to base and then discuss what we learned."
"But you ride well Dessar, My name is Gerin of the Silverswords. We are the pseudo military of the area. We are peacekeepers, protectors, and in this case investigators. We came here to trade in horses so that we can better protect our lands with a calvary. It is difficult to trade when the best traders and best horses are not trading. We are trying to keep the tensions as low as possible between your clan, and the Tarthens whom I have been mistaken as several times. We are looking for information, nothing else. What can you tell us of your search? And please belive me we have the best intention at heart. We want nobody defamed, or harmed, peace is our upmost goal."
"Well, Gerin of the Silverswords, peace is not my goal. But you meddling in things that don't concern you could start something, so I don't mind playing along. What search are you talking about, eh?"
Dessar grins broadly, but it's not a friendly smile. He's enjoying the possibilities of where this is going.
We want nobody defamed, or harmed, peace is our upmost goal."[/COLOR]
The dwarf nods his head at Gerin's comments. He has high hopes that this Drani will understand and help in some way.
Thorik glares at the mounted Drani.
"The search to find yer missin' Dolasin. Surely you've not forgotten..."
Flashing the slightest of grins, Thorik waits for his answer.
"The search to find yer missin' Dolasin. Surely you've not forgotten..."
"So you found out a few things already. I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose, with Telas pointing you in the right direction. Good, good...
We'll, we searched the land around the fair in all directions to about a day out. No conclusive tracks anywhere, so they hid in plain sight: on the road we took here. That's mostly hardened, and so many horses pass along that trail that if they did leave a mark it's impossible to make out. They're headed back to Drani country, or at least going in that direction for a day or more.
Of course, they could be going to the Tarthenen lands as well. It's roughly the same direction from here, if you're not too particular about how you get there..."
Another nasty grin, underscoring the implication.
After an answer is givin, the dwarf immediately follows up with another question.
"An' what of the Tarthens? How've relations been with them of late?"
The squire in question was covering for the captain. She seemed to 'disappear' of her own volition. With the amulet and the disappearance of the Drani on the other camp, I wonder if there was a meeting across the lines? One apparently hidden from the leadership. Be that for private conflict or, more likely, negotiations is yet to be determined.
I wonder what the other two will dredge up? Well, in any case, I think the squire would know more or less where she might be. We can always go back after we review whether or not that is entirely necessary. No reason to shake the tree too much."
"With no disrespect meant, has Dolasin given any reason t'consider desertion? Recent arguments, or new allegences?"
After an answer is givin, the dwarf immediately follows up with another question.
"An' what of the Tarthens? How've relations been with them of late?"
"Dolasin's got no reason to desert that I know of. And if he did, I'd have made sure everyone knew about it. He's an arrogant bastard. I could stand his good-for-nothing weasel of a brother more easily."
Dessar clearly has problems with the two brothers, Dolasin's fast career and glorious reputation being one of them.
"If he wouldn't be headed the direction he's going, I'd think he'd thought of some new fool idea to add to his legend. As it is, I don't care what his reasons are exactly. Going that direction, it can't be anything good. Our leaders know this too.
And the Tarthenen? Same as always. They're as cautious as we are."
There's an obvious undertone of disagreement there, but Dessar doesn't go as far as to openly voice criticism of his superiors.
.oO (... somethin's not right... knows more... or possibly...)
Thorik crosses his arms, and waits for his comrades to add anything or depart.
Well, hopefully we will have most of the puzzle when the others return. Who knows? What small information we have gathered may be invaluable."
"What is it that makes your clans hate each other so much, do you even know why? Did your parents tell you to hate them and their parents the same?"
"What is it that makes your clans hate each other so much, do you even know why? Did your parents tell you to hate them and their parents the same?"
"My people believes the world is not big enough for both them and us. They believe the same. At the same time though, both sides are far too small to back up their claim. I see it, I believe you see it... but most Drani and Tarthenen are blind to that truth."
Telas sighs deeply.
"The beginning of this feud lies generations in the past, but much blood has been spilt since on contested ground. We traveled westward, towards the evening sun, and they were expanding towards the east. The lost lives are a terrible thing, but the heart of it is that neither Drani nor Tarthenen can do what you just did: back down from a challenge."
He follows quietly behind the two, until they are well away from the Drani camp.
"It's a pity. Pride can be more deadly than poison."
Thorik greets Malic and the Stranger when they arrive at Gherben's tent. The dwarf then helps himself to a mug of beer, and takes a seat waiting on Gherben to appear.
When Gerin turns to leave, Thorik keeps his eyes on the mounted Drani. Making sure he has his attention, he gives him a departing nod, and turns to follow his companions.
Dessar winks at the dwarf, trying to look pleased even though a little disappointment can't help but show. He'd been hoping to get more of a rise out of the visitors. The Drani keeps staring at the trio until they move out of sight and only then turns his horse around to join his comrades again.
Malic gives Gerin and thorik a wave as he tends to the fire, "I hope your trip was more informative than ours."
"Lots of legwork and little to show for it, is that about what it comes down to?"
Gherben joins the rest of the band around the fire while Greebo is whittling away at a new club somewhere near the coach. He sits down fairly gracefully, but can't completely hide a grimace when he stretches his bad leg towards the warmth of the flames.
"You can get it going a little higher if you want, Malic. Miserable weather...
Big part of adventuring, that," he slides back to his previous topic.
"Lots of waiting, lots of cold trails and vague leads leading nowhere. You can't not try everything though. There's always the off-chance of bit of good fortune when you least expect it."
Also worth mentioning is that she had a Drani amulet in her tent. Mind, we were not able to confirm either of these beyond fairly reliable sources. Still, the camp at large doesn't seem to know she disappeared on purpose.
Fortuitous night, despite the weather."
When the group arrives back to the camp Gerin sighs flops down on the nearest seat and rubs his temples.
"We met up with our drunk friend last night. Through his hang over we didn't learn too terribly much, their dissapearence was a well liked, successful, officer. We met a scout that saw it as arrogence and was spiteful of him. But the scout was an arrogent bugger himself."
Gerin pauses for a minute.
"But with everything I have learned I am guessing that the missing Drani and the missing Tathen are meeting somewere back from where they came from. Their reasons I'm not sure, but I have a feeling it is either dipolatic or romantic. If it was for a violent reason there would have been little need for all this secrecy."
Gerin turn to Stranger and Malic.
"What did you discover?"
Our captain was a very respected woman as well. Was your missing fellow a male, perchance?"
So you think there's a good chance the Drani horseman went of his own volition as well then, lads?"
The last question is for Thorik and Gerin, obviously. Gherben takes a tobacco pouch from somewhere inside his coat, as well as a pipe which he fills and lights with a twig from the fire before passing pouch around to any takers.
"I'll top it off tomorrow, so help yourselves. There are some rare blends I can get my hands on here."
Gerin declines the tobbacco.
"Sorry, turns me green."
Heh... if it is romance, it is yet more proof that two honorable enemies can find they have more in common with their foes than their commanders."
"I'm as romantic as the next dwarf," he says with a grin as smoke billows from his nose. "but I've'a bad feelin' about it."
"Jus' don't trust that Drani. He wuz too against th'peace, and Delasin too. Dolasin's the Drani officer." he says to Gherban in case the man had forgotten. "The recent eas'in of tensions did'nt seem to sit well with 'em."
He takes another puff, letting his words sit with the others.
"Now I might be readin' more in'ta it than I should, but it could be a set up. Possibly by both camps..."
Still, here's hoping for romantic getaway."
"My first guess would be to travel back in the direction they all came from. What is three days travel back in the direction that the Drani and Tarthens came from. That was when they dissapeared wasn't it? Three days or two days before they got here? But any settlements of any size, placed to meet would be a good place to meet. We can leave today if we want to track them down. Gherben you will be ok here correct?"
"The Tarthen officer disappeared before they arrived at the fair, but if I recall they went missing almost at the same time, and the Drani were already here by then," Gherben corrects.
"I should be fine, yes. Even if all hell breaks loose neither side is strong enough to dare provoking the neutral fairgoers."
If only we could wrangle it out of someone... still, at least we know the basic direction, as you mentioned. Perhaps we would learn more as we get closer as well?"
He sits himself up straighter, and looks at the others around the room.
"I'm with Stranger," he says pointing the tip of his pipe at the masked man. "shake someone hard enough, and they'll give us a clue. But who?"
ooc
Bloodhound, or whatever would apply in this world. And yes, I am most definately neutral. :angelhide
Is there any third party horse sellers that come from vaguely the same direction, Gherben? We may yet find fortune in one of them. There may even be someone who witnessed the event and thought it unimportant."
Gherben spits in the fire, then puffs on his pipe some more.
"We could maybe try magic? I'm surprised neither side has done so, but maybe they simply lack someone with the right ability, and they wouldn't want to involve outsiders.
I'd try to keep the provost out of our plans, especially if his getting involved could be tracked back to us, but there should be one or two hedge mages around that aren't necessarily in his employ. It would surprise me if they didn't have a spell to locate lost items or even creatures. Neither of you would happen to have a personal item of one of the missing officers?"
If there are no objections Gerin takes off quickly to find him again.
"Anyone else want to come or follow another lead, I don't think a second person will be needed but it will be nice to have backup in a rather hostile camp."
With their Drani escort Gerin takes off for the camp.
Before anyone but Gerin and his guide can leave, Greebo coughs and indicates a small boy a flowing robes standing on the edge of the illuminated area around the fire.
"Begging your pardon, good sirs. My esteemed uncle, Kheffrem din-Tenu'ared al-Jehared, apologizes for the short notice but humbly requests the one called Stranger join him two hours from now and any of his party who wish it, to accompany him."
The Stranger bows majestically to the youth. "Of course. Tell your honored uncle that I will be there without fail. Thank you for your time."
The boy accepts the answer with a gracious nod and returns to the Tarq tents.
"My uncle will be pleased. A fine evening to all of you then."
"Well my friend do you think he is still in his tent or perhapse gone off and is attempting to obliterate the rest of the day with drink.?"
"If he has any kind of sense, he got cleaned up a little and then made himself scarce. There are plenty of unpleasant jobs in a camp like the Drani's, and he's just the kind of sorry grunt officers love to assign those to. I expect he'll be lying low somewhere - and yes, probably with a bottle or two."
The rain is finally starting to let up and only the lightest drizzle still falls. The guards Gerin saw earlier have been relieved and their replacements are more easygoing, or they just can't be bothered to make much of an effort. They wave Gerin and his Drani companion through, looking bored.
"We'll try the tent anyway?"
"That sounds like a likely place, but I am guessing that he will not be there, but it is easy to check."
Gerin leads the way to the tent. When there he calls into the tent to see if the man is in, if there is no reply he will pull the flap back to check to see if the man is passed out inside.
Telas speaks a few words with a passing Drani, gets a reply and translates everything for his companion's benefit.
"Dulasin got latrine duty. Looks like he didn't have enough sense to lay low, or his commanding officer found him before he could get out of sight."
Gerin sniffs at the air trying to locate where the latriens are. If there isn't any help from his nose Gerin will start wandering looking for them.
Standing near the entry to the latrine area, which is boarded off by a rough man-high pallisade, Telas calls out.
"Dulasin! Are you in there?"
"What?"
Dulasin answers, sounding quite unhappy, and comes out carrying a steaming bucket. Fortunately he leaves it behind just inside the pallisade, because even from there the stench brings tears to a man's eyes.
"You again? What now?"
"Think we may've jus' found one."
He shrugs his shoulders and then looks to Stranger.
"Who's this Kefrem din-tari Jared fella' the boy was speakin' bout?" the dwarf asks falling all over the pronounciation of the name.
Thorik figures the man in question must be a wizard with a name so long. His memory obviously clouded.
wow
I totally misread the post about the boy. I thought the kid just appeared out of nowhere! This is my meager attempt to salvage...
I'll be right back. I'm going to speak with a few friends and see if I might not solve one part of this quickly. I'll seek the two of you out in a while, but it may be prudent for the two of you to meet with Kheffrem din-Tenu'ared al-Jehared," He made a point of pronouncing it correctly for the Dwarf's sake, in case he would need to say it himself one day. "As well, so if I do not catch up with you in your quest seek me there. Malic knows where to go.
I'll see the two of you later." A quick wave and the Stranger was off, steadily making his way back to the two guards at the entrance to the camp. "Hello gentlemen. Might I have a moment of your time?"
A quick wave and the Stranger was off, steadily making his way back to the two guards at the entrance to the camp. "Hello gentlemen. Might I have a moment of your time?"
"Hello, friend. Did you forget something earlier?"
The guards smile, happier now the rain is letting up some.
Do you know where I might find such a thing? It is very important. It needs to be kept very quiet as well, since the Seneschal more or less has it out for her."
"Of sorts." The Stranger said. "I need a favor, friends. We have recently been hired to privately find your missing captain. I require an article of hers so that we may track her and bring her home.
Do you know where I might find such a thing? It is very important. It needs to be kept very quiet as well, since the Seneschal more or less has it out for her."
"I'm afraid we can't help you there, friend. It's not like we would ever come near an officer's personal affairs, is it?
Of course, should you happen to be taking a stroll at an inopportune moment, like when we had to quickly step away from our post because of all this food and drink we had earlier, and found yourself coming up on an empty tent about 50 yards to the east with a green pennant waving over it, and accidentally picked up something, I suppose we could chalk that up to bad luck on our part and good luck on yours.
Come to think of it, my bladder's about to burst, and my buddy here looks like he needs to relieve himself as well. Excuse us a minute, will you?"
He removed his mask after they began to walk away and began his small journey, keeping an eye out for unwelcome intrusions as he followed their instructions.
He removed his mask after they began to walk away and began his small journey, keeping an eye out for unwelcome intrusions as he followed their instructions.
The camp is well organized, laid out along a specific plan, but there are much less guards posted than during the reception for potential trading partners earlier. Stranger does notice small groups of two or three walking the grounds, obviously patrolling, but they can be avoided quite easily if he keeps his wits about him. The tent that is his goal is not guarded either and Stranger can't hear anyone inside.
Once within, he looked for any personal effects.
There's no-one inside the tent, fortunately. It's kept very neat, very organized, very clean: all as is to be expected from a disciplined officer, especially one with a devoted squire. The bed is made to military standards, there's a fold-out table with a lamp and a small box containing writing materials on it - but no paperwork - and a large chest standing on one side. Across from it an armour stand is waiting to be used, standing empty. At the foot of the bed Stranger sees a smaller chest, with a solid lock on it. Finally, in the back of the tent a curtain serves to separate the tent from a smaller one next to it, probably for the squire to sleep in.
ooc
Who is tonyar109... Just some guy posting nonsense?
Who is tonyar109... Just some guy posting nonsense?
"We are here to get something of your brothers."
"His badge of honour? I'm not..."
Dulasin bites his lip, looking torn. After a few seconds he nods though.
"Ok then. If it will help."
He takes Telas and Gerin back to his tent - other Drani giving them a wide berth, because of the stench that follows Dulasin around - where he rummages around for a moment and then hands over the requested amulet.
"Do you really think you'll be able to get him back?"
OoC
I sent tonyar109 a pm, on the off-chance it was maybe a relative of yours who posted via your computer or something. I didn't think so, but it was worth checking. Just disregard it, I'll make a VCL request to have the post removed.
He took extra care about getting out of the camp, taking his time where necessary before departing. All told, he made sure to spend as little time in the tent itself as possible.
If and when he got out, he put his mask back on and returned to the camp.
If and when he got out, he put his mask back on and returned to the camp.
In and out quickly, a simple enough job for a harmless stranger. While he cannot completely avoid being seen altogether, nobody seems to notice anything out of the ordinary and Stranger can stroll out of the camp again without so much as getting asked his name. The guards at the gate do look a little apprehensive when they see the size of what he's carrying, but they studiously turn away and avoid eyecontact. Seems like it's all in the bag.
Gerin takes the badge and leaves back for their tent.
Without waiting for a reply Malic heads off to the grounds in search of a mage to aid them.
"If he wants to come back, then yes.... I think we can. But we will not force him back if he does not wish to. He is his own man, we are just trying to find out what happened. I will let you know what happens, take care of yourself and remember what I told you earlier, take care of yourself."
Dolasin half raises an arm when Gerin walks away, as if he wants to say something, but he lets it drop again and returns to the latrines without uttering a word.
"This should do, I hope?"
"If it's hers it should," Gherben responds laconically. "Are you counting on the contents or the box itself?"
He waves for Greebo to come and take a look. The half-orc studies the lock for a minute or two, then gets up again and proclaims: "Not without breaking it," apparently answering the unspoken question whether he can open it.
Without waiting for a reply Malic heads off to the grounds in search of a mage to aid them.
There are several characters wandering the grounds laying claim to magical ability. Unfortunately, not a one is able to demonstrate mastery of anything beyond some questionable parlour tricks. Maybe the more serious ones have less of a need to advertise? It could be the ones that can do something worthwhile have made sure of employment early on, maybe even before making the trip out here, so they don't have to troll for custom anymore. An official might know who's got a wizard on the payroll.
"He was very willing to hand it over. He wants to see his brother I belive."
Gerin eyeballs the chest that Stranger brought back with a little touch of unease.
"We are not going to get visitors looking for the chest are we? But good job. Now we need to get the thing open, unless we can simply hand the chest over as the personal item... But that will raise some eyebrows..."
Thank you, Gerin. No, we really shouldn't. People won't even notice for awhile. Taking the objects out and then hiding it would reduce the risk of course.
Until then, I have a few more errands to run and must meet with my friend soon. So, I'll see you later."
ooc
From this point on my internet connection will be near non-existent. Hope to see what my Kheffrem wanted when I return. ;)
"I am tired of walking around without protection. I am just hoping that nothing goes wrong and that I am indeed paranoid. Because if there really is someone after you and something really does happen, then it is not paranoia is it?"
After the armor is on and the gear is maintained gerin turns to the Drani.
"So my friend what guided you to the ambrace of the Shining One? I know why I followed him, I know what knocked me from his path and I know that I still have not been able to find my way back to the path despite my search."
"Let us walk and talk you seem a little restless."
The two leave the camp and wander the markets.
"I am not entirly sure why I left, it may be that I was tired greatly from the quarraling, perhapse I wanted a simple life, I am pretty sure it was a result of many things. But you mentioned your story in passing please will you honor me with it?"
Gerin shifts around in his armor for a time.
"I will tell you granting that you swear not to repeat it to my companions...or anyone else for that matter. I wish to keep my story close to my chest until I feel that I can share it with just anyone."
"Why do you share it with me, you know your friends much better than I. I am as much a stranger to you as you are to me."
Gerin thinks for a moment on that question.
"You have the calling to serve Agatholos, and you are a stranger that I am likely to never see again. We have something in common there, and if you do judge me I will not really be phased by it, because we will not meet again."
"I accept that, please go on. I enjoy others stories, I distracts me from mine and my peoples."
"I come from a land in the far far east. Just inland of the ocean at the toe of the mountains there. We have a great deal of land and people. We care for them, and they care for us. We educate our people the best we can, giving them a chance at something better than what they were born into. We have a justice system that deals fairly but firmly. Major crimes are met with major punishments. Minor ones are dealt with minorly. All are set infront of a judge. I took something into my own hands. I had a wife."
Gerin holds up his golden band to show.
"Her and the child she was carrying were murdered when two desperate men robbed a merchant in the village that we were staying in. We lived permanently in my fathers castle. But my function in my fathers house was to travel to the towns and deal with whatever may come up. Mostly minor things like minor disputes between the towns. We were,"
"Wait a moment son, you are the son of Lord Maranis Argonise aren't you?"
Gerin stiffens at the inquiry.
"What gave this away. I know we are a very well known family."
"Your family is more than very well known son. But I am likely the only one that would make the connection here. Remember I am a follower of Tholos and your family are perticularly well known by us. Very powerful, and wise paladins. I have been to your land many years ago to ask something of your father. A favor for my companions in faith. He granted it and we are ever thankful to him. But please go on I am sorry for the interuption."
"Well these men killed my wife, unborn child, and the merchant. When I returned back to the village I was enraged, I was told what they looked like and I tracked them down. I knew where they were because I had bumped into them earlier squatting in the tree line. I had stopped to check on them to make sure they were not going to cause trouble I didn't like the look of them but they had done little wrong so I told them to leave the lands. This was two days before the botched robbery. Reguardless I found them where I had found them before, pawing at their spoils. I ran them down and threw them to the ground. They layed there groveling at my feet beging for mercy, that I spare their miserable lives...... "The wicked shall meet with no mercy in this land." I killed both of them. They had surrendered and threw their weapons to the side in effort to save themselves. I stood over their bodies for hours. I had taken justice into my own hands. This type of justice was something perfectly legal in our lands if it was found to be justified. But it didn't feel like justice to me. If felt like cold blooded murder, or revenge. I felt that I had lost my mind to something else. The local militia tracked me down with my cousins help. He is a woodsmen, and followed my tracks. We went back to the castle and I insisted on standing trial. I didn't get the judgement I felt that I deserved there, it was called a justified killing. But I couldn't get it out of my mind. The two men would have been executed for their crimes but I still felt that I murdered them. I left my fathers home after that seeking the embrace of Tholos again. I found my way to Garics City and I felt that I could help there so I took a commission with them, and now I am here.... Telling you my story, my shame.... I desire to follow in my family traditions, but I am not yet absolved of my crime."
"Well I sounds to me that you do not need to find the forgiveness of Tholos, but forgiveness from yourself."
"Perhapse. But I have not been able to find the strength to do that."
Gherben looks the lock over as well, but shares Greebo's opinion.
"Stranger will be taking up his enigmatic Tarq friend's invitation soon. Who will be going with him? Greebo is staying behind to look after our campsite, so the rest of us can all go if we want. I do: I won't pass up the chance to see this man for myself."
"I feel that there is more to your story Gerin. Do you wish to share it?"
Gerin picks up examins and sets down a few more titles before answering.
"There is more but I cannot speak of it. It has to do with why I lost my control that night. My will to do what is lawful and just. Since that night I have fought to return to the path I was on. But I have not been able to. Something has held me back. Perhapse it my own doing, perhapse I do not feel worthy of his glory. Or Tholos does not wish me to be a son of Argonise."
"I doubt that Tholos does not wish you to be a warrior for his name. I still belive you need to forgive yourself... His grace will follow."
"I broke the law, I broke the code, and I dishonored my family."
"It sounds to me like you broke no law. You said earlier that the judge found it justified."
"I used poor judgement, it might as well have been breaking the law. I murdered unarmed, untried criminals that were begging for their lives at my feet. I lost control.... I can never loose control. I am a leader of my people. To loose control is to loose all confidence of your people. We are supposed to lead by example. Anger, fear, jealosy, arrogence, dealing flippantly with lives, indecision, weakness. All these things are unacceptable when you are a leader. I almost lost control on the way here. We were attacked by bandits. After the fight one surrendered at my feet. I wanted to kill him, I wanted that slime to pick back up his weapon so I could kill him."
"But he survived did he not?"
"Yes. My companions were unhappy about it but we took him prisoner and turned him in at the gates of the fair. After I got over my desire to kill him I felt that justice could be served to this man. This man will not be murdered by my hands."
"So you controled yourself. You are attempting to make what was wrong right."
"My companions were rather uhappy with my choice to keep him as a prisoner. They either wanted to execute him or release him. I could have lived with neither. My wife and child would be alive today if I had not let the two murders free the first time. If I let the prisoner free the wife and a child of another could be dead, and the horror that was visited on me would knock on the threshold of another."
"I didn't deal with this as much back home. Our lands were peaceful, yes we had constant patrols. Every town has their own militia. We are armed to the teeth but many have been born, lived a full life and died in our lands and never needed to raise a blade in violence. Bandits and such just kept their distance."
"Do you miss anyone?"
"My family. My parents, elder brother, and two sisters. My cousin to... The one that found me in the forest."
"Do you plan on going back some day? I am sure they miss you."
"They do I am sure. And I will only go back if I have our gods blessing. I don't think I could take it otherwise."
The two have moved onto a different portion of the market. An old artist is sitting next to all of his work puffing on a pipe looking at the people go by. Another man, dressed in a flashy set of robes is holding up amulets boasting of its proporties. A falconer has his birds swooping low over the crowds, and some dogs are moving back and forth between the people looking for dropped goodies on the ground.
"Yes.... Yes it means a great deal.... The thing about it is though. We were taught to live right at all times but do not judge others. Forgive everyone, and be strict with yourself. They will not judge me but I was taught to judge myself. It is the position of the judges of our land to look at others. Perhapse I am too harsh with myself."
Gerin wanders over to the falconer and feeds the bird with the owners permission. The hooded bird tears at the meat nearly getting his fingers. A few feet away Gerin offers the blood that is on his hand to one of the dogs. The dog licks his hand until it is satisfied that there is nothing else to be had.
"Gerin you have a kind heart. I can see that and I am sure your companions can see it as well. All I can say is extend that kindness to yourself. Look at your self as you would look at another. Would you blame another man for doing exactly what you did."
"I would have a hard time condeming another for avenging his family."
"Well think about that some more. I think I am going to go. I wish you good luck with finding our missing officers."
The two shake hands and Gerin walks back towards the camp lost in thought.
The man speaks the truth... but something just will not let me accept it for myself. Perhapse I hold myself too accountable... but I still don't think it is a bad thing. Perhapse I was not ready for the burden of my blade. The man before was vengeful if nothing else... But this is no excuse the will of the blade cannot become your own. I should have been able to control it.
Gerin gets to the camp and walks through the tent flaps still lost in thought. Looking broody.
"Malic and Thorik are still out looking for a wizard with a finding spell in his repertoire. If they find one, he might know one that can open locks as well."
Gherben looks the lock over as well, but shares Greebo's opinion.
"Stranger will be taking up his enigmatic Tarq friend's invitation soon. Who will be going with him? Greebo is staying behind to look after our campsite, so the rest of us can all go if we want. I do: I won't pass up the chance to see this man for myself."
"That sounds like an excellent idea." The Stranger said. "I don't mind bringing you along. I'm sure he would even be all too happy to open up trade."
Gerin looks back and forth between Stranger and Gherben.
"What is going on?"
Need to keep history out of mind...
"Trade??? Going along?"
There are several characters wandering the grounds laying claim to magical ability. Unfortunately, not a one is able to demonstrate mastery of anything beyond some questionable parlour tricks. Maybe the more serious ones have less of a need to advertise? It could be the ones that can do something worthwhile have made sure of employment early on, maybe even before making the trip out here, so they don't have to troll for custom anymore. An official might know who's got a wizard on the payroll.
Malic frowns as he turns away from another hopeless choice. His eyes scan teh area for someone who looks like they're in the know.
"This could turn up to be a fruitless search," he comments to his dwarven companion before approachign the first man he sees who Malic thinks could help.
"Pardonb me sir," Malic asks, "my friends and I are in need of a mage, but it seems all the mages worth their salt have been bouight up do you know where I could go to find one of some substance?"
"Pardon me sir," Malic asks, "my friends and I are in need of a mage, but it seems all the mages worth their salt have been bought up do you know where I could go to find one of some substance?"
"Heh? What?"
It takes the man a second or two to figure out what Malic is asking.
"Oh! A wizard? A wizard! Let me think... Yes! I may know of one. He doesn't really look the part, but there's an elf - could be a half-elf - usually sitting in the Longhouse. Wears green leathers and has green hair. You can't miss him. Does a bit of business with a lot of small traders. Could be he's a bit on the dodgy side, fixing up horses to fetch a better price, that sort of thing. Not that there's been any trouble, mind. The provost would be on him like a hawk if he knew of foolishness like that. Good man, our provost is. You can't get anything by him. Not that you'd want to, of course. I wouldn't suggest anything like that. I mean, I've never seen you before. You look like fine, honest folk. Nothing to suggest you'd be up to something. Well, goodnight then. Must be off. Ta!"
The man rambles through all of that in the space of two breaths, backs away and turns to quickly step away before Malic can get a word in.
He gives his friend a nudge, and takes a step or two towards the longhouse.
"Care fer'a bite?"
The half-elf soldier walks along side Thorik towards the Longhouse, "somedays all you can do is wish you could have stayed in bed no?"
With a laugh he continues on to the longhouse. When the two have arrived, Thorik looks around the room for the man described.
Looking down at a plate of food, he notices big chunks of beef and slivers of yellow onion piled high. And a chunk of bread to soak up the juices. The smell alone made Thoriks mouth water.
"Cause I just got hungry, and I'm havin' a plate of that." he says as he sits down.
When Malic is seated, Thorik leans forward on the table.
"Back'n the corner. With the jug. Looks like the one."
He leans back and motions for a wench.
"What'll it be?" asks the dark-haired two hundred and fifty pound waitress.
After the initial shock he quickly answers,
"A plate of that'd be great." he says pointing at another table. "Pile it high now, darlin'. A cup of cider if ya got it. And some of that bread too."
He gives the woman a smile, even though he can't stop staring at the unsightly growth on the side of her neck.
He orders the same thing as Thorik, and he glances over to the green haired elf, for a brief moment before turning back to Thorik, "best maybe we invite him to sit with us, before he get's to far into his cup."
He give the man across from him a grin and a nod.
"Pardon me sir," Malic begins, "I have been told that you are a mage of some repute. Would you care to dine with my friend and I while we talk to you about a job we would liek to hire you for?"
"Pardon me sir," Malic begins, "I have been told that you are a mage of some repute. Would you care to dine with my friend and I while we talk to you about a job we would liek to hire you for?"
"I find that hard to believe," the alleged wizard replies with arched eyebrows.
"The part about the repute, that is. But we all have to eat and I might be interested in a job. Why don't you show me to your friend, who I assume prefered not to wait to order?"
He dashed into the carriage with his bag. It only took him a few minutes: he was very used to changing quickly between these two costumes. After that, he stepped out with his traveler's coat hanging over his noble ensemble, to prevent the latter from getting wet in the case of storm. "All right. Shall I lead the way then, Gherbin, Gerin?"
Before even waiting for a response, he was already striding. He was happy and curious to see what Kheffrem desired.
"Stranger, my friend. I thank you for accepting my invitation even on such short notice. I have found a new tale, an ancient tale yet only just begun for some - for some tales grow from others, as you well know - and those some are of interest to you and your companions, as I am told."
Kheffrem joins the group only moments after their arrival, sweeping in alone. Servants close the tent behind him, leaving the Tarq chief alone with his guests.
"Please, everyone, sit. My name, as some already know, is Kheffrem din-Tenu'ared al-Jehared. I have already learned of yours and your fame, as befits one who seeks to impart knowledge, for some stories should not be shared with strangers; excepting those stranger only in name, of course.
But allow me to ask of you that you set the stage for this narrative: you have chosen to weave your own thread in a drama being spun for many a year already, have you not, a tale of two tribes unflinching in endless conflict?"
We come in at the point when equal numbers in equal strength disappear in tandem from two factions who hate each other dearly and are certain that the answer lies somewhere in this odd occurrence. On the way, we meet with wonderful and gracious friends." He said, smiling under his mask. "We would like peace best and most of all, for in peace people not only trade, they refrain from sticking large pointy objects into one another. Our man can come to a trade fair to trade and others can speak without fear of insult.
This is my employer, Gherbin, and the man standing tall beside him is Gerin. They are both honorable men and have come as my friends."
And so it falls to me, your fellow follower of literary pursuits, to tell you of strands coming ever closer on the loom of our world's events: to wit, those of you and your friends and those of some of the factions you speak of, even now set on a course that will result in bloodshed if their hands are not stayed, by a power as yet cloaked in anonimity.
And after telling you of this, to offer you a choice: to allow those strands to be woven together so you may attempt to stop the sparks from kindling into the flames of war, or to end the unfolding of this cloth prematurely so as to preserve your lives for other stories to find.
I could put you in a position from where to intervene, should you so choose - such a position you will be hard-pressed to reach without my aid, I will point out."
Kheffrem's speech is as lavish and flowery as ever, perhaps even overburdened with metafore, but the warm and friendly face becomes more tense and almost predatory when he makes his proposal.
That is a little unnerving...
"I belive that I speak for our whole group in that we wish to finish what we started. Loss of a life is always a great loss even if the life is dedicated to destruction."
Gerin glances at Stranger, and then back to Kheffrem.
"We would be honored to have your aid in this."
"I belive that I speak for our whole group in that we wish to finish what we started. Loss of a life is always a great loss even if the life is dedicated to destruction."
"You speak both courageously and wisely, master Gerin. The company my friend Stranger keeps I value as highly as his stories, so your decision does not surprise me.
Of course, honour alone - precious as it is - is only the reason I wish to provide you with my aid. A balance must still be struck, a bargain made. A man such as me cannot be allowed to trade away the power he has struggled to gain on a whim or a few well-chosen words, though tempting that notion is. It would not be fitting. Friends, I needs must ask: what return should I expect for the boon I offer?"
Kheffrem leans slightly forward. His expression is composed again, but it is clear the heart of the matter is reached only now: this barter is what he has been working towards.
If you would grant me a slight honor and bid a messenger seek our associates we would be able to offer you a better return for this boon you honor us with." The Stranger also wished to disrupt some of the momentum the man had gained. Quick decisions were always regretted, and he saw the man boxing them into a corner. He trusted and respected Kheffrem: it was due to this respect that he did not seek to underestimate the artistry and skill with which he may seal a bargain.
The Stranger had already offered him a great boon without strings attached: his service at a later time. He knew that could not come into this bargain, of course. His friend was a merchant, and it would be frightfully silly to assume one payment served for another.
He took a moment to look upon Gherbin, attempting to gauge the man's reaction as well. Either way, he knew that he would have to negotiate trade between the two. It would please them both greatly, he felt.
"Perhapse we can speak of something else while we wait for our companions? It may take sometime and it would be silly of us to sit here in silence waiting."
"Silly. Yes, yes. Of course. Are there others coming?"
Kheffrem seems a little thrown off. Perhaps he wasn't expecting this request, and he is clearly eager to come to an agreement.
"So, what should we talk about?"
Gherben coughs, hiding a smile behind his hand for Gerin's benefit, but lets the sudden uncomfortable silence hang.
Until then, as stories tell us, it would also honor me if perhaps you stayed well concealed from the entrance of the tent.
Otherwise, we have some time to spare. In that time, I would love to introduce you further to my employer, who is also a fine merchant of horses and would enjoy discussing trade with you. Profit while waiting for profit."
"Perhapse the weather. Rather miserable isn't it."
Gerin pauses for a few moments as if waiting for a reply but just before one is given Gerin drops back into his normal demenor. He is business like and avoids excesive formalities.
Never cared for court words, too much said to get something simple across.
"I have no doubt that they will come. If we ask them to they will. We would do the same if our situations were reversed. If Thorik and Malic were here and our stranger and I were there. And I am rather sure that we will be able to come to an agreement. It is in all of our interest to bring an end to this."
Gerin looks at Gherben and back to their host.
"I hear that you are very well know, and more than a little powerful. I also hear that there is much specualtion about how this power and fame came to become yours. Perhapse a tale that is passed about, concerning you. Or the same tale from your perspective."
At the suggstion of openeing trade between Gherben and the host Gerin backs down and lets things go.
"Otherwise, we have some time to spare. In that time, I would love to introduce you further to my employer, who is also a fine merchant of horses and would enjoy discussing trade with you. Profit while waiting for profit."
"I'm already aware of your employer's name - welcome again, master Gherben - but there is always more to learn, isn't there? Please, if you would be so kind as to do the honours? I do not know if you have told him anything about myself yet."
Kheffrem settles himself on a cushion, apparently resigning himself to the idea this matter will not be concluded quickly.
"I find that hard to believe," the alleged wizard replies with arched eyebrows.
"The part about the repute, that is. But we all have to eat and I might be interested in a job. Why don't you show me to your friend, who I assume prefered not to wait to order?"
The half elf warrior smiles at the wizardly man.
"Aye. He's not one to wait on a meal."
After Malic leads him over to the table, Thorik stands and greets the man.
"Thorik. Of the Silver Swords." says the dwarf as he offers his hand.
"Well met, sir. Care'te sit?"
If the man sits, Thorik does too.
The food is served after Thorik explains they are looking for a certain individual and were hoping they could find some magical assistance.
ooc
sorry, again for the delays. I took a short holiday. I dont know Malic's excuse, but I havent seen him online today either.
"Certainly. A moment, please." The Stranger said, stepping beside Gherbin and whispering in his ear. "I can speak on your behalf, of course. If you prefer this, please give me my limits and what you are going for yourself."
"I'm afraid horses such as yours are not yet for the likes of us, master din-Tenu'alas," Gherben answers their host.
"Heirs to the bloodlines of your champion racers, matching speed and stamina, would be wasted on the military. They'd make tremendous mounts for messengers, but undoubtedly they are destined for much more than that.
I have to profess to more than a little personal interest though. I would not spend my employer's coin doing business with you, but an addition to my own stables would be another matter entirely.
What do you think, Stranger? Or you, Gerin?"
The food is served after Thorik explains they are looking for a certain individual and were hoping they could find some magical assistance.
The half-elf - as Malic can tell with certainty after seeing him up-close, even if that'd be impossible for someone without elven blood - tucks in with gusto.
"So, finding a man. Or a woman? And it's spells you're hoping for, I take it. I do have a trick or two up my sleeve that will serve very well for such a purpose. I will need to know more first though, of course. Like why you need to find this person. And whether my services would be limited to helping with the finding or you are counting on me helping with apprehending him or her as well..."
"I am more experienced with more aggressive and combat oriented breeds, but I am no slouch when it comes to the animals you breed Sir. Perhapse we can take a look at the stock."
"It would be my privilege to show you my stables but now is not a good time, master Gerin. I will, however, gladly accompany you personally when I have my grand showing two days from now. There will be quite a turnout this year. Of course, you might be otherwise engaged by then."
The thinly veiled reference to the actual reason for the meeting betrays a little impatience on Kheffrem's side.
"Honestly, such horses could even be useful for our own endeavor since speed is often of the essence." The Stranger said. "What price would you ask for such esteemed creatures?"
"Anywhere from a king's ransom to a mere pittance, my friend - relatively speaking, of course. Would master Gherben be interested in a promising foal or a horse that has proven what it is worth? A stallion or a mare? A horse for breeding, or one for racing? And I must confess to sentimentality: all my horses are dear to me but some I will be more loathe to part with than others for no other reason than personal favour."
"So, finding a man. Or a woman? And it's spells you're hoping for, I take it. I do have a trick or two up my sleeve that will serve very well for such a purpose. I will need to know more first though, of course. Like why you need to find this person. And whether my services would be limited to helping with the finding or you are counting on me helping with apprehending him or her as well..."
"The matter is somewhat of a secret we're looking for a particular Tarthenen and a Drani, that seem to have gone missing," Makic says as he lifts his cup to drink.
"The matter is somewhat of a secret we're looking for a particular Tarthenen and a Drani, that seem to have gone missing," Makic says as he lifts his cup to drink.
"A secret'ta some. Could care less, meself." he says with a mouth full of potatoes.
After washing down his bite he continues.
"But it'll make our life a bit easier if we're t'take care'a this problem. An' as far's payment goes, you'll need'ta be comin' with us t'see our boss."
"The matter is somewhat of a secret we're looking for a particular Tarthenen and a Drani, that seem to have gone missing," Makic says as he lifts his cup to drink.
"A secret'ta some. Could care less, meself." he says with a mouth full of potatoes.
After washing down his bite he continues.
"But it'll make our life a bit easier if we're t'take care'a this problem. An' as far's payment goes, you'll need'ta be comin' with us t'see our boss."
The half-elf's eyebrows lift when he hears that combination.
"That's certainly unusual. I take it the Drani and the Tarthenen themselves are not involved in this. And you don't want them to be? That's none of my nevermind, if you don't want it to be. Might complicate things though.
But it could be an interesting proposition. Where is this boss of yours?"
"Well when we have an opportuinity I would enjoy and inspection. And I have reason to belive the least of your animals will be greater than most could dream of having."
"You are right, master Gerin, and you have every reason to believe so. They are my pride and joy. If you can't be wth us two days hence, be assured you will get an opportunity at a later time."
Gherben speaks up as well: "I would prefer a mare, master din'Tenu'allas - two to three years old would be ideal, but likely my budget won't stretch that far. I did not expect you might be willing to part with a younger foal though."
"I believe he should be at our camp," Malic responds, "but at the moment we may as well finish our meal."
"If you say so," the wizard responds, shrugging and taking a few more bites before pushing his plate away.
"There's no rush then?"
He takes a drink of cider to wash it all down.
"As it should. This's damn good. You had this?" he asks the wizard casually.
When the meal as been finished, he pays his waitress and tips accordingly. He takes the lead and makes for the camp.
It was nice to have more or less equal footing, however. "I would greatly enjoy seeing your superb horses, but I think it the opportune moment to return to our negotiations. You offer us a great boon: how would you price this information yourself, honorable Kheffrem din-Tenu'ared al-Jehared? We wouldn't wish to insult via ignorance of the personal cost this information must have brought onto you. We should begin there and find our common desires."
He had a number of cards up his sleeves at this point. He was willing to use them all, and would welcome the sudden arrival of the others. Certainly not necessary.
"As it should. This's damn good. You had this?" he asks the wizard casually.
When the meal as been finished, he pays his waitress and tips accordingly. He takes the lead and makes for the camp.
The wizard nods at the question, gets up when Thorik's paid and follows him and Malic to their camp.
When they get there they only find Greebo, sitting by the fire and whittling shallow patterns in his greatclub.
"I would greatly enjoy seeing your superb horses, but I think it the opportune moment to return to our negotiations. You offer us a great boon: how would you price this information yourself, honorable Kheffrem din-Tenu'ared al-Jehared? We wouldn't wish to insult via ignorance of the personal cost this information must have brought onto you. We should begin there and find our common desires."
"My first wish, and I will not budge on this, is that you return to tell me the tale. I do so dislike tales left half untold - not that I'm surprising you there.
The second, and this is where another thread is woven into the tapestry, is that you would seek the truth of another story, should you come across it: the Hunter's Blessings. Three favours bestowed on the very few found worthy, deserving individuals lead to the Hunter only by chance.
You need not go out of your way, however. Merely on the off-chance you'd happen on a rumour, a lead, a sign... I would be grateful for anything that might add to my flimsy knowledge."
Kheffrem spreads his hands in a gesture of innocence, suggesting the possibility of the group actually finding anything to be so remote as to be non-existent, yet clearly there must be more to this proposal.
Show
The Bardic Lore roll for the Hunter's Blessings came up fairly short: Stranger has a vague recollection of three qualities that make up the quintessential hunter, but nothing specific comes to him.
The other conditions?" He asked.
"Hm, three qualities of the Hunter. I remember hearing this story before, but it escapes me." The Stranger said, tapping his chin with a long outstretched finger. "These are reasonable. I would of course love to share the tale with you, my friend.
The other conditions?" He asked.
"That is all I will demand in payment, my friend," Kheffrem responds with a winning smile.
"Surely not too much to ask for, is it?"
Yet before anyone can respond, the old Targ continues: "That is to say... it will not come to pass, of course, but should it ever do, I would have you return the Hunter's Lore to me. I do not expect you will chance upon it in this lifetime, you understand, but even so."
And this, it seems, is where Kheffrem cuts to the heart of the matter.
"These are acceptable terms." The Stranger said. "I will do whatever is in my power to find the Hunter's Lore for you, or pass it on to another if I should fall in the process. You have my oath."
"I can see that you place a great deal of value into this tale. I sincerly hope that we can bring you this story."
"An oath is not required from a faithful friend, but the gesture marks you once again as men of honour. I thank you.
Now, as for my end of our agreement: you will only complete your undertaking successfully if you find two people, yes? And unfortunately, these people have gotten away days ago. Without magic, you will not catch up to them. This is where I come in, as I can provide you with the spell you need, the speed not even my finest horse can match.
Speed is but one thing, however: you need to know where this speed has to take you. Have you found a solution for this part of the puzzle?"
"That would be a fine thing indeed." The Stranger said. That had, in fact, been there greatest issue. "Our associates are working on that very problem this moment and will find our answers soon."
"Proof once more you are a most competent and resourceful group," Kheffrem beams. Those Silver Swords paying attention though - and who wouldn't? - get a definite sense that, if necessary, the Targ would have come up with a solution for that too, had it been necessary. In fact, he might even have preferred it. Perhaps the better to steer them the way he wants them to go? It is increasingly clear Kheffrem has a definite agenda, and there's no telling how much he's orchestrated to achieve his desired end.
"Shall we adjourn for the night and convene in the morning then," Gherben suggests.
"We'll have everything in place by then, and we'll be fresh and rested for the challenges to come."
Kheffrem is quick to agree: "I will require a few hours to prepare the spell at any rate. I will come find you at the eight bell."
And unless any of the others has a parting remark, that concludes the meeting.