The Heir of Karmark [IC]

[gdiddy]

ALRIGHT, 07:30 am GMT. NICE!

Here you go:

It is right after breakfast on the third day after the spring equinox. Castle Farhold is still recovering from celebrating the holiday Peacefall, which marks the beginning of the ancient war season. Most of the castle, as is custom in the Western Marches, is paid its year’s wages on that day. Next week, there is to be a tournament to celebrate the birthday of Lord Grayen’s son.

Morgan, as you work over a new squire, Carl, that serves one of your fellow knights, Sir Hiram Lyn in the yard, you pause hard in breath from the lesson. Something catches your eye: Two men are about twenty yards are speaking as they approach you, one a horse, the other on foot.

The figure atop the horse is a large man, over six feet. With the plume of brown and white horse hair atop his rounded helm, he was almost seven feet tall. This horse itself was a monster, at least 17 hands at the haunches. Muscled and powerful were words that described it. It had no grace, only a deliberate power behind its movements. It dwarfed the man atop it, and seemed annoyed by his presence.

Fully armored in festive raiment, he kept flexing his hands against the reins, steadying the horse as it kept attempting to return to the water trough. Of the battle of wills, he was succeeding for the time being. On the man’s chest and shield was the sigil of house Grayen.

The man on the ground was snarling and gesticulating wildly. As they approach, you recognize the ringing of sound of Lord Jame Grayen’s voice, strong and warm even in his helmet. The man cursing prolifically is the Farhold castle’s master of arms, Sir Kylan Wethers.

---

Wynnifrith, you’ve been up for several hours. You’ve already helped your mother oversee the whole castle’s breaking fast. Though bread was baked and the remains of last night’s great meal was already warmed, feeding the regular staff of 200 and the 200 garrison guards, and a further 300 men-at arms, knights, freeriders, and worthy tradesmen that have already arrived for the tournament was an administrative nightmare. Your mother was in a horrid headache most of the morning and left everything to your judgment, smiling wanly as you proved yourself worthy of your name and giving the occasional threatening glare whenever someone questioned you. The meal is 2 hours long and quite satisfying for everyone. You're complimented even as you excuse yourself and your mother to see her to bed. This headache was in all likelihood caused by the feast last evening.

Your mother, prideful and looking pale, mumbled something about the wonderful wife you'll make some lucky lord as she shuffled into her bed. Your tutor, Sister Clairithane is likewise nowhere to be found. She is most likely off doing something rather drab, like praying for a warless war season. You have a dance lesson scheduled later today, after supper, but it’s only mid-morning.

---

Baltasar, you awake at your desk, alone, with an empty coin purse. You pay dearly for secrets and hope that they weigh half as much as the coin.

You look at the bottle of aged wine spirits someone handed you last night, some elf from Lyros … Wynnifrith Grayen’s dancing instructor, Mercucio. He’s a fop and a suspicious one. Your contacts in the Elven territories are limited, but with some more work.

Your men are outside the keep and in the city that surrounds the sable granite of Farhold. You do not deal with them in the castle proper, preferring to disconnect yourself as much as possible.

You must attend the final planning council for the tournament later this week, but aside from that, are free for the day. No doubt you should speak to your men and get them out of the city as soon as possible.

---

Dirkin, you awake in the common hall after a night of revelry. After being awoken by the small waves of 1,000 breaking fast and serving one another. You assess yourself. No worse for wear, you set about your day. A fool’s day is one of freedom, what is yours of?

---

Thomus, you wake up with a woman very close to you under your cloak in the common room. As singer and minstrel, you sleep with the other servants in the common room. It’s a bit chill and people seem to be finishing up from breakfast, the servants who were served first are now cleaning up, removing the table in the back of the hall that you and Resia’s are under. The outside city’s poor are filtering in to receive the leavings of breakfast. Resia notices you are awake and then mimes a human groggily getting up after the table has been removed. She often feigns sleep to avoid answering question about not doing it. Of course, you two do not sleep together normally.

“Am I being paid to pretend I am yours?” Before you are entirely sure it is not a dream, she continues speaking in a heavy Elven accent, with some words in her native tongue. “No. I am a daughter of the Narati Groves. I am not a <ground-sleeper> and certainly not with you. I have sung the Song of Lost Dreams in the castles of Princes with my father, <SQUIRREL>." The last word is an Elven slur for men who have dwelt among the treetop settlements. Short-lived, greedy, and annoying are all implications of the term and it hurts.

"Please stop insulting us. Use your singing gold money. Buy a ground home. With beds.” This is definitely the most angry and discontented you’ve ever seen your traveling mate and employee. You realize she is shivering in the chill morning air. You also realize she has been awake for the better part of the night, cold and miserable, preparing that speech. But why was she next to you?

She seems done, though. Feeling defeated before the conversation begins, you get ready on a bench to muster a retort. Instinctually, you check your belongings before getting up and notice 50 gold coins missing from the boots you had by your head. Luckily, you keep your money spread around your person and the thief lacked the intelligence or gumption to look beyond the boot. 50 gold is a lot of money, though…

---

Jaine, you wake up still drunk in a white tower stairwell to your father’s castellan’s hand on your shoulder. You are not a Westerman and did not celebrate Peacefall last night. It was pure alcoholism that carried you to the state you are in now. You are three day’s hard ride from anywhere that celebrates any such holiday, in your natural father’s castle outside Karhold.
Withdrawing his gentle touch at your pained and bloody eyes, the castellan begins to speak quickly about you making a trip as a good will measure for your father. Honestly, you don’t catch all of it. He is not making any sense. You’re father isn’t away. He’s only a few minutes away in the city. Damn if you can remember the name of this fool that was touching you. His name. His name….Percival. Peregrant, P-something. Pippant? Damn. 9 Hells if you know.
P’s words do not stop flowing until you feign as if to vomit on him. You smile as he jerks back. “Master Jaine?” he asks, confused.

---

Jackson, you awake alone in a well manicured room in a brothel outside the castle. The room is bright in the late morning. It’s not a bed room, but rather a card playing or sitting room of some kind. You have no idea what you’re doing here, but your things and person are intact. You hear your horse outside, trumpeting. Someone is trying to move it.


A good start?

[loser0ll]

Dirkin stretches out as he wakes up - it was always best to start the day by stretching. It left you ready to move quickly, woke you up, and let you think about what the day might bring so that you were acting on a good plan, instead of wasting energy on a bad one. He looks around, and begins wondering what needs to be done through the day.

It's a new city... a new chance. What he needed was the first hints of power - and he had a plan to get it. He had a whole chain mapped out to get it...
Gold - Building - Paper - Land. Work to get the gold, use the gold to buy a building to make more money. All that paperwork would be covered in stamps and seals and handwriting and names he could use for his benefit. With the power from the paper, the gold from the buildings, and a little more work, he could finally earn himself a little land. And once you had land, you were somebody.

The first step was money. He had the skills to entertain and work, but those were for later in the day. For now, it was time to check around for other sources of income... maybe a special job. A city like this had to have opportunities - and if not, he could always go to one of the guys who worked 'behind the scenes' for Lord Grayen. If nothing else, they'd have a couple of papers he could grab a sample of...

Looking for word on jobs I could do - if possible, I also look around the castle garbages/offices for any official documents, which I collect regardless of importance - I can always make use of the papers that have stamps/forms/handwriting/seals with Forgery later. I also keep an eye out for anything I could... use my Sleight of Hand with.
Gather Information
[roll0]
Knowledge: Local
[roll1]
Also : I have a simple Disguise on, Take 20 for DC 33 Spot Check to see through (Not using Disguise Kit, +5 for Minor Details Only) and six daggers (including my Masterwork ones) are hidden on my person, DC 36 Search or Spot check to locate. Two daggers are clearly visible.

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine listens with glazed eyes and largely deaf ears. Oh, both a hangover and still drunk, what a lovely combination. And the only cure for that is getting even more drunk.
He smiles, then begins to ignore P, turning around and getting up to walk to his room. After a few stumbles he thinks better of it, thus crawling up the stairs and opening the door at the top of the tower. He slams the door behind him, then stumbles and shuffles over to the bed, collapsing there to grab a half empty bottle of wine at the bedside table, and the chamber pot beneath it, both emptying himself and filling himself at the same time. Only when he has drank the whole of the bottle does he contemplate the comatose girl laying in the bed behind him, hardly decent. If P were to see her, he'd be in for a start. Or maybe he wouldn't. It's not like Jaine kept his dalliances a secret, or even very subtle.
As he finishes his work with the chamber pot, he realizes that he doesn't really remember her name, either. It's a Nn... it's a Mm... Ma... Maria?
Dammit.
Bending down his head, he makes good use of the chamber pot again, washing the vomit out of his mouth with some more wine from an unemptied bottle from under the bed. He wonders why he still drinks if it can't prevent episodes like that, looking over the bottle with an accusatory look, but then just shrugs, and drains most of the rest of the wine. Stumbling over to the door, he opens it a crack, and stares out at P with dull eyes. "Yes, what do you want..."
The girl rolls over somniferously in the background, but remains incoherent.

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Acting as if she didn't notice the approaching men, Morgan kept rigorously training Carl in combat maneuvers, switching from parrying to counterattacking almost simultaneously in a graceful dance she was famous for, granted she went a lot slower for Carl's sake. After a short while of this, Carl stopped suddenly and pointed behind her, panting, "Lord... Lord Grayen." At this, Morgan acted as if it was the very first time she noticed them approaching her, and thus she couldn't have heard Sit Wethers' plenteous cursing either, which is precisely why she did it. Social etiquette not withstanding, she gathered Carl by her side, sheathed her sword, and stood straight, ready to receive the two men clearly headed towards her.

Morgan in armor was a sight to behold, blond hair cut to below her ears, she had long hair for a man, and she wore her family crest proudly on her imposing shield, which had yet to be put on her armor, though she wasn't planning to do this due to the fact that she had ordered a custom-made suit before the Spring equinox. She couldn't pay for it yet, but by the time it was done, she will be able to pay for it, and it would be grand. Disliking use of a helmet, Morgan wore one only on very special days, and today wasn't one of those days.

As Lord Grayen came nearer and nearer, she felt Carl shaking in his boots, because Lord Grayen was indeed a formidable man. Morgan herself however, acted unaffected and saluted the two men, not a hint of being winded in her voice, "Good day my lord. I hope your breakfast was to your liking?" As she bows down, she could feel the horse's breath in her neck and quickly got back up to see the men standing magnificently in front of her. She then looked back at Carl and excused him to go back to Sir Lyn, which he did without hesitation.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Cracking his knuckles and neck, the spymaster pulls himself back from the desk and away from the chair giving his legs a much needed stretch. Opening a cabinet he removed a stack of papers, the latest accounting reports from Fidelis.

Sitting back down at his well used desk, he scanned through them. While not formally trained as an accountant the intelligent Baltasar was quickly able to pick up the meaning of the numbers and things were not good. Expenses the last year had been high, too high when compared to revenue. Something would have to be done about it...he would need to speak with his brother on some business ventures. Where was Fidelis anyway? Probably running around taking care of the money of far wealthier men, hopefully he would remember to glean some valuable information out of his work for the day.

Placing the files back into the locked cabinet he turns his attention back to the empty bottle of wine, examining it. Damn, elf. That one was one to be watched, as some would have you believe Elves were plotters and conspirators of the highest order, though for one who dealt in secrets like Baltasar everyone was a plotter and a conspirator. Plus, there were other foreigners who warranted attention. Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill he pens a quick letter to one of his agents in the usual code writing. It would appear as nonsense to one not exposed to the code but to the trained eye its intent was as clear as day.

Dear Marcus,

I hope Peacefall faired you well. It was a most excellent celebration but now is the time for us to get back to work. The state does not remain secure through idleness.

I need for you to make sure that a few guests of our Lord are well watched and cared for. The first is known to you, the elvish dancing instructor of the household's young lady.

The second two are new arrivals but are intimately linked. The newly arrived bard Thomus I believe his name is, and his Elven lover.

These three are of our primary concern now.

Sincerely,

Your Friend

Sealing the letter with wax but not signet he grabs his sword belt snapping it on and head's down the hall to Bekker's room. Looking both ways to make sure no one was present, Baltasar bangs on the door in the prearranged manner and slips the letter underneath and then sets off on his way.

He would have to meet up with the others, who were no doubt lolly gagging about in some tavern nursing hangovers. But, first he would head to the dining hall to see if it wasn't too late to grab some breakfast...

[Zerkai]

Thomus rubbed his eyes as he awoke, blinking as he focused on the elven female so close to him. He was barely given time for that as his traveling companion as she started her angry speech. He was taken back by the sudden hostility first thing in the morning, wincing as she called him the Elven slur.

He let her continue uninterrupted as he started to check his bags and clothes, wondering why she was so upset. He spent years traveling from place to place, pretty much sleeping anywhere that was convenient for him.He waited until she finished speaking, checking his boots and noticing quite a bit of his gold was missing.

The Bard closed his eyes as he thought about what Resia said. For most of the past year he had been he had been a Minstrel for Lord Grayen, most of the time he would stay somewhere in the City, save for free time where he traveled to neighboring villages and cities. He was a pretty successful Bard, his years living in the elven lands seemed to make him fairly popular with the residents of the city, the people he entertained usually wanted to hear a song or story about Elves and their lands. He had saved up a lot of gold during his travels and from his many performances. He rarely spent money without good cause, and not unless it was truly necessary. A trait that probably aggravated his traveling companion to know end.

When his blue eyes opened, he looked over at Resia, carefully observing her as he watched her shake. "... Well... I guess we should. I've been staying in the area for a while, I have a job working for Lord Grayen. It's about time we found a place to stay." He said with a sigh as he stood up, stretching. He stood over six feet, taller then any elf and most men, with handsome features. He put on his boots, putting on his backpack and the rest of his equipment, making sure nothing else was taken. The real reason for him agreeing with the Elf was that last night's theft left him concerned. He looked back at Resia as he finished preparing "Shall we find somewhere to eat first before we search for a home?"

[Ormagoden]

Wynnifrith

Wynnifrith leans against the heavy wooden door to her mother and father's chamber and breaths a deep sigh of relief. She took a moment to collect herself and started down the hall. She took account of all the items on the list of things to do for the household today: Food preparation for all of the guests, meal room readying and table setting, adequate accommodations for the visiting nobles, arranging cleanup, packed meals for those that were traveling, and...and...see mother to her room... A sly smirk spread across her cheeks and she glanced around with a cat like mischief playing upon her face.

Hurriedly she passed through the gray halls of Farhold, hoping she could make it to her room and get changed for a brisk ride in the open country. After an entire morning bustling about running the household she most assuredly needed a few moments to herself. Duty taking hold of the wild fancies floating around in her head she altered her path and started toward the kitchen. The dinner preparations should be underway by now and surely if that went smoothly she would have a bit of extra free time in the evening. Her work might even save her darling mother another headache and with that thought Wynnifrith quickened her pace.

She was entirely consumed with the daily matters of the household that she didn't at all notice that she had wandered near the training yard. When the first clang of steel resonated in her ear she paused by an open archway to see the daily goings on. Red curls cascaded over her shoulder as she leaned on the edge of the arch looking in upon the knights curiously. She pulled at the edge of her dark green dress and spied her father having a conversation with the handsome knight Morgan. She noticed that new squire Ca...Car....Calvin was it? hurrying off as they spoke. The third man Master of arms Sir Kylan seemed to look awfully steamed; she stifled a giggle as she pressed herself against the cold stones listening in. She distinctly knew that it was her father that was causing the red around Sir Kylans face; mostly because she recalled the same hue emanating from him the last time he made request of her.

She sighed the laugh away and wondered to what upon they speak. Not much longer would she wonder finger pressed upon her cheek; at an opportune time she stepped out and greeted the myriad of men and servants in the yard.

"Hail and good morning to the glorious protectors of the realm."

Wynnifrith greeted the Lords, Knights, squires, servants, and of course her father with great respect bowing politely. She smiled to them surveying the yard and the warriors and defenders within. She noted that many of them had stopped midswing one of the guards that was practicing was struck rather harshly while he was distracted by her visage at the archway. She covered her lips with delicate digits as she gave a small laugh at the scene.
"Keep your guard up Harold."
She said jokingly, as she paced towards her father giving a swift curtsy.
"Good morning father, I trust you found morning meal to your liking?"
Realizing she has interrupted the entire yard with her entrance she apologizes.
"Father I apologize for the interruption of morning drills."
Wynnifrith folded her hands hands together at her waist and gave each a short bow.
"Good morning Sir Kylan Master of arms and Sir Morgan Champion of Grayen house. How do you all fare on this brisk day?"

If Wynn's mother is regularly sick like this she wouldn't leave her side right away and instead would wait for the house physician to arrive. If she isn't normally sick Wynn thinks its a hangover and isn't overly concerned with it.

[gdiddy]

Dirkin, your current living expenses are paid for, but you could do some street performance. A lot of people have some free money in the city outside the castle proper, while many are still drinking and the money in their pocket is fresh. There isn't any work at the city forge. Though they did ask you to help out with making a fair size shipment of nails to Baron Germont's new mott and bailly on the river Lyewater, there simply has been a lack of work. You could make busy work for yourself, but iron costs money and doesn't come in tiny amounts.

In you search around the castle, you find a piece of a broken seal in the stairwell. It bears no mark. You also find a letter from a knight named Sir Poros Gyfield with poor penmanship, ordering a set of white enameled jousting plate suit and a lion-headed face mask. It is dated only yesterday.

---

Jaine,

"Well, Jaine. Your father has deigned to give you a mission. He would like you to go to Lord Grayen's tourney at the castle Farhold as a personal guest of Lord Grayen." He pauses, fishing in his pockets. "And give this to Lord Grayen. This is not messenger duty, he said to tell you. You are his chosen envoy."

He smiles with honest kindness as he pushes the sealed letter into your hand.

---

Morgan,
When "Now here is a man that knows horses. Tell me, Morgan, have you ever seen such an animal? I found him trying to get into the stables this morning before breakfast. No doubt to get to the heated mare I've been keeping for breeding with my grey stallion, Krytos. I took one look at him, gave him a piece of the apple I was eating, and now he is mine. Sir Kylan thinks me insane, that it may be some magic or cursed beast. I've never seen a wyvern or manticore eat apples, though. What should I name such an animal?"

You hear a girl's voice greet you, the Lord's daughter, Wynnifrith.

He removes his helmet, his chiseled and beautiful features are still beyond. "Daughter are you now training with us in the yard?" He laughs, and Kylan does as well and shoots you a look.

---

Baltasar,
You find no one in the hall, only Thomus and his lady friend, apparently in the middle of a lover's quarrel.


---

Thomus,

This seems to set her off again, reminding her of a forgotten portion of her speech. [COLOR="DeepSkyBlue"I have not eaten. I was afraid to get up at the meal. A man tried to touch me in the night, but I am told by you not to hurt the Grayen men. I am to be raped by...by...by peasant horse ****er human?"[/COLOR]


---

Wynnifrith,

You're father is discussing his new horse with Sir Morgan. You approach and greet them just as he finishes telling the story of how he found the horse to Morgan. He gives you a nod and removes his helmet, his red hair tumbling to his shoulders. "Daughter are you now training with us in the yard?" He laughs and his men with him.

[loser0ll]

Dirkin looks over the goods he has found with... ambivalent feelings. These are no extraordinarily wonderous items, but he can make use of each. A little work here and there, with a few of the right questions, and he can probably find out more about the Seal, and maybe even get a fixed copy of it made. But for now, he would use the paper he had found to make a fair bit of money... With the order having gone through only yesterday, they'll have made no real progress on it - and he has all the important parts of the document. He even has a copy of the signature right there in front of him - and people rarely check such things closely, as long as the signature is there and the messenger isn't a pushover.

He sets to work, buying what goods he needs to produce a nice copy of the work. He scribbles down a basic request for a refund, authorizing me to negotiate on his behalf, almost disappointed that with the horrible handwriting, he could probably just bring a copy of the man's signature and seal with him and still talk his way to what he was after... but an artist is never fully appreciated.
Forgery Check - this is opposed by the Forgery check of the man reading it. It's an odd and rarely used skill, but if a PC invests in it, he's competing with people who probably cap out at a +5 Modifier, if they're lucky and well-trained. It's my first time ever actually getting to use it... ^_^
My modifier is 10, +4 for having a handwriting sample to copy the autograph/signature. Drop the check result by +4 if you feel that the signature is, for some reason, unimportant to the document.
[roll0]
With his creation done only a few minutes later, he heads off to the shop, and finds the nearest person who looks untrained and likely to have no authority - it was always best to come in looking impressive next to someone. "On behalf of my employer, the noble Sir Poros Grayfield, I would like to speak to the man in charge here. It's of a matter of urgency concerning a recent order."

[industrious]

"...That whiskey was drugged." Jackson, upon finally waking up, his faculties fully intact, stretched himself out on time before getting to his feet. The average-looking man, hearing the sound of his horse, briefly debated whether or not to let the beast get taken, before remembering that it technically wasn't his horse. The king got so sensitive about his property...

Walking outside, looking to the world to be calm and collected, Jackson approaches his mount, and appraises the situation.

[Gorgondantess]

"Of course."
Jaine takes the letter, gives the man another glazed look just to psyche him out, and then shuts the door. Sitting at his bed, he takes a knife and carefully peels off the seal on the letter. He might be able to melt it back on, and if not, he had a general Karhold seal that would do in a pinch. He then unceremoniously opens the envelope, takes out the letter, and reads.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Blasts...everyone was gone already except for those two and while Baltasar was of course interested in the heated argument it would be quite noticeable of him to just hang around the empty hallt eavesdropping. Though that did not prevent his ears from perking up as he went and grabbed some bread from a basket.

Listen check [roll0]

Returning to his room with his quick meal in hand he begins preparing for the days activities. Prefering that no one noticed his depature and believed he was still in the room, the spymaster prepared a quick disguise that would just see him out of the castle unnotticed with the rest of the traffic.

Disguise Check not using the disguise kit
[roll1]

With his new "face" in place he departs from the room heading for the castle gates being sure to keep his clock wrapped tight around him so that others might not recognize him by his weapons. Leaving the castle he, winds his way through the city streets where he knew his men would be, most likely nursing hangovers. Slipping in through a back door he looks for employees in the morning crowd of the inn.

[gdiddy]

Dirkin, The shop is a fairly famous guild armory, that employs 40 men. Downstairs, there is a smith's entrance, but there are stairs up to the main sales and fitting area. Do you enter through the upstairs main entrance or go into the actually working area?

Jackson, there is very clearly a man walking away with the horse that you rode from Farhold castle to this brothel last night after Lord Grayen paid you. He looks at you and freezes, his mouth open. You do look somewhat frightening.

Jaine, In your father's own hand, you read:

To Your Grace, Lord of the Loyal House Grayen, Defender of the West,

My Dear Jame,

Much weighs on my mind of late. My wife has lost the child she was carrying. I have lost more children than any man alive, I feel.

(He had not mentioned anything about the pregnancy or miscarriage to you, but why would he? The damn woman was losing a child every other year for ten years.)

The realm needs an heir. I cannot bear to see the woman suffer so again. For she does love me, but I am told her body has reached its limit and even now, she may not live to see the autumn. My issuance has caused enough pain in the world, I think. I am calling a council to those that govern my realm for me.

I must ask you to leave Farhold for Karhold to attend this council. I will provide for you and whatever of your household that you wish to bring with you. The heads of house for both Olrich and Darrow are also being sent for. I am currently entertaining the Duchess and her entourage. A charming beast, by any measure.

I know that the Western war season has just begun. Anticipating this, I have invited the King of Arlore to my council. He will not come, but to strike a man who has just invited you into his home is beneath even that snake. So rejoice. Your lands are safe for this year at least.

I know the journey is far. but I trust it is not half the journey for a well-ridden Westerman that is for others. My wife sends her regards to Essebelle. I ask you send my warmest regards to your uncle and my many friends in your court.

Under the light of Lon
His Majesty, King of Karmark, Lord of Men, Elves, Dragons, and Dwarves, Etc.
Your Friend
Lionel Asteros

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine almost crushes the letter in his hand, then remembers himself. Yes, of course, the man doesn't have a child at all, does he?
Folding the letter back and resealing it with a candle and some extra sealing wax, he slips it into his vest, fortifies himself with the rest of the bottle, then grabs his sword, his poisons, some food and several wineskins, and after a visit to the stable he sets off for Farhold. He isn't very vocal about his destination, having little reason to tell anyone.

[loser0ll]

I take the main entrance, assuming that going into the working area itself would only lead to angry blacksmiths being annoyed at me getting in the way.
Disguise - average guy. Raising height and weight, changing hair color to blonde, etc... minor details only. [roll0]

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Upon seeing Wynnifrith enter the courtyard, Morgan bows to her warmly, and proceeds to look curiously at her, wondering what she was doing here at this time. But, not wanting to break social protocol, she didn't dare satisfy her curiosity and ask.

As Lord Grayen asks his daughter if she was joining them in their training, Morgan laughs with the men ruefully, she'd love Wynnifrith to join them, heck she'd even train her herself. But even though this is of course impossible, Morgan kept the thought in her head mischievously. "He looks like a fine horse indeed, my lord. Was it your plan to ride it in the tournament next week, or is that still something to consider?" Slowly and cautiously, Morgan moves up to the horse and begins to pat the side of its neck, soothing it.
[roll0] How did I know... :smallsigh:
I don't know what use it would be, but I think it's an appropriate check anyway. :smalltongue:

Looking up from patting the horse once more, Morgan looked directly at Wynnifrith and asked her, "If you are now training with us, I shall be happy to oblige and may even lend you my blade, it shall suit you well, as it is light." Morgan finishes by unbuckling his sword, and, ignoring the surprised faces of Lord Grayen and Sir Wethers completely, reaches it out to Wynnifrith still sheathed, hilt first, doing some kind of half-bow.

[Ormagoden]

Wynnifrith

Wynnifrith gasps
"Oh I wouldn't dare father! Though their dedication and diligence should be emulated by all in the realm. So I would seek to train myself in those qualities my lord."
She bows again to those present in thanks to their service of the realm and its people.
"I suppose I could teach the undisciplined ones a thing or two about peeling potatoes though."
She shook her finger at some of the laughing men in a mock threatening manner. Those who knew her well knew she wasn't kidding however, and previous victims of her infamous "all day peeling parties" hung their heads in shame or exuberantly began to pick up their sword play.

Seeing Sir Morgan offer his sword Wynnifrith reaches her hands to her chest; stunned she blushes wildly.
"Our champion is as bold in action as he is on the field. Offering me your sword, and in front of my father no less, how scandalous!"
She said in a quiet tone that sounded both surprised and embarrassed. She let the champion mull her words over just for a moment attempting to see him squirm in front of her father. Quickly as her father was about to comment she spoke again.
"Besides, it is ever so much larger than a sewing needle."
She then giggled politely at her little joke and looked to her father.
"My lord, mother has retired early only a few moments ago. She was feeling a bit taxed from this mornings breaking fast arrangements. I am going to make sure that all is prepared for our dining this eve."

She thrust her lips onto her father's hand and kissed it for he was much too high in the saddle for her to hug.
"I may ride later if time and my father permits."
She said as she spun for the archway; dress and curls fanning out and arms wide she cheerfully turned towards the kitchen humming to herself.

She paused at the archway and turned back tilting her foot on the toes as she spoke.
"Perchance the bold Sir Thomason would be among those that accompany me..."
She said with a subtle but pout like smirk knowing her insinuating words would lead to ridicule from the men and the weighty gaze of her father looking down upon the champion.

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Expecting a different kind of response from the rebellious lady, Morgan made a sudden recovery from the rejection, and in one swift movement re-buckled her thinblade just as Wynnifrith mentioned a sewing needle. Straightening up as his daughter spoke to him, Morgan looked at Lord Grayen for any kind of response from the recent incident, and upon receiving none too obvious, she relaxed her pose somewhat, shoulders still held high.

As the young lady Wynnifrith left for the kitchen, Morgan watched her go, as all men did, wondering what she was all about. I think I might join in her proposed midday riding to teach her some swordplay anyhow. It was then that the lady turned back around and practically invited her to join in the riding, and she looked a little taken aback as to how clearly the girlish behavior showed possible romantic interest.

Just a few moments after the young lady of the castle had exited the courtyard, Morgan looked back at Lord Grayen, and, hoping the two men would clear the recent happenings from their mind, tried to resume their conversation about the horse that was raging before the young lady showed up. "How old did you say he was my lord? I believe him to be a fine mating stallion should the time come for such things." Of course, her mind was still on Wynnifrith, and the sudden correlation between the two conversations hadn't escaped her keen notice.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Spotting the three henchmen sitting around a table, and in the case of Hermann and the Dwarf already starting in on the day's drinking, Baltasar slides into a chair across from them. "Really, if you must spend all your pay on the drink so quickly you will get no handouts from me."

The big man and the Dwarf scowled at the interloper before recognizing that it was the spymaster in disguise. The two burst out laughing with the kobold quickly joining in with his race's odd cackling.

"Now that you've had your holiday. It is time to get back to work." Baltasar continued his voice dropping to a whisper. "As you know, this season's tournament is fast approaching and that means the oppurtunity to make some money. Gambling is gambling for a reason, and I am not a gambler. So, of course we must tip the odds into our favor. Hermann, I want you and your associates to get us some information on the knights competing. See, if there is anything we can use."

Turning his attention to the Kobold he continues "Grisak, I want you to work with Hermann on this. But, first find Fidelis and deliver this to him." He hands the kobold a sealed letter.

Finally he speaks with Barnar "Keep an eye out for the Dwarven merchants and craftsmen in the city see what there current status is and any news. Also, inquire as to if any of them need our expertise on any matters."

Letter to Fidelis, written in code

Brother,

I have read the reports you have prepared for me and they are quite alarming. If our ventures are to succeed we will need to immediately seek out new sources of income.

Please with all due dilligence delve into the business dealings of the city's most prominent merchants and see if there is anyway we can profit from their practices. Additionally, find out if any have the need for the services of either myself or my associates.

I hope to see you soon.

Your brother,

-BG

[gdiddy]

Eleazar,

You are awoken by your assistants entering the lab, as you are every morning. Judging by the fact the light has crept all the way down to Master Karmond's illustrated treatise on the breeding habits of mermaids, you can tell that they are late by at least a half hour. You paid the filthy beasts yesterday, and they are yours for another year, but this lateness is unlike them.

Halix approaches you, seeing you are just waking up. "Master Bygod, Halix the Alchemist and Mathusis the Sage are here to continue on our projects under your tutelage. I am going to continue my catalogue of things that spark when combined with sulfur."

Mathusis puts his mouth to your hand, his lipless mouth cold and scaly. "We ask our Master Bygod's forgiveness. We are late and it insults you."



---

Rachel,
You've broke fast with the other staff of castle Farhold, and are heading out when you see the other minstrel serving with Lord Grayen. He and his Elven lover are speaking in a mixture of Elven and Karmen (common).

You can't quite make out what their saying as you gather your things from the bench.

You two are not quite competitors, and have performed together. He is an excellent flutist.

---

Jaine,

Can I get a forgery(I suppose it would be a naked Intelligence) check on the new seal?

In the stables, you meet three of your father's knights and 10 other men wearing similar colors preparing 20 horses to ride on what looks like a long journey. One knight is in a bright red doublet and riding pants, with a bushy black beard. His voice is filling the stables with a kind of infectious mirth and excitement. Another knight is in all grey, with a black acorn on his chest, you know him well. "Black" Tim Woods, the bastard of Mandel Darrow. The final knight is a very large man, who you do not know.

The man with the beard is laughing out in a big voice: "And then this crazy bastard makes it worse. Tim grabs the dog by its ears, stares at its beady yellow eyes, and howls in its face. Best hunting hound in the Kinglands my ass. Damn thing near **** itself when he did that. Now the kennelmaster says we owe him thirty crowns for breaking one of the king's 'prize animals'. I ain't paying **** to a man who smells of dog ****. I'm telling you, Aleksi. Farhold is a much needed escape from this damn place. I went to a tourney there some years back. Cheap entry price, but tough competition. And the Women, Aleksi. They're positively savage in their appetite!"

---

Baltasar,

"You are a brave fool of a serpent. The last man to approach this table is growing cold in the gutter." The dwarf spits on the floor.

"We'll pay you your pound of secrets for your gold before sundown. But for all that is holy in your forsaken empty-skied country, please sit down and have a drink. It's not even noon."

All but Grisak sit down again. The little kobold has already vanished out the door by the time you account for him, your letter tucked in his cloak.



---

Morgan,

The horse has taken a distinct dislike to you and keeps rearing its lips back to bite you. Lord Grayen continues to whisper to it and snap its reins, preventing it from getting its head near your unprotected face.

Lord Grayen looks you over coldly. "I've only found him this morning, but he is young by his teeth and stride. Breeding is definitely on his mind, but I'd rather use that for the tournament. If he has something to look forward to, he'll ride harder. However, I do like my daughter's idea. Let us all go riding this afternoon. You and I should speak, before the tourney champion." The Lord rides back toward the stables, and Wethers stays with you.

Wethers grabs your arm and whispers harshly "Really, man? Are you daft? Offering your sword to Jame Grayen's daughter and talking about stallions and mares? I know you're a brilliant knight, but he's the boss' daughter. If you're getting tired of commoner cunny, drop the maid and marry a knight's daughter. Wynnifrith Grayen is way above your station and don't be forgetting it. People have a tendency to go missing around that little girl."


---

Wynnifrith,

You find your mother nursing a cup of aged cider spirits. She smiles and asks you to join her in her solar.

---

Dirkin,

A woman ushers you inside, eyes you, and asks you into a chair. She offers you two pitchers, one with water and one with beer. She asks who you serve and vanishes behind a back curtain.

After about a ten minutes of waiting, a well-fed dwarf comes out and shakes your hand in the southern style.
Welcome. How can Hegaz Rushhammer and his armory I help your master?

---

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine grimaces at the men. He had been hoping to set off alone.
Sighing, he doesn't say a word, but makes his presence known, sombrely saddling up an old courser- a gift from his father when he mysteriously took up riding, the stallion was old, but was once a fine horse- indeed, when he lost use for him, he gave it up to the breeder. Now it was older, and weaker, and retired to the stables, but still good for riding, and the occasional breeding.
As he saddles it, he pays attention to the men in the background- are they an escort, or just happening to head off to the tourney at the same time he is? If so, he could likely slip ahead of them.

[loser0ll]

Dirkin shakes the offered hand, bowing respectfully. He has a slightly sad look on his face as he pulls out 'his master's document' and begins to speak, addressing him in Dwarven. "Master Dwarf, I regret that I come with poor news. My master has only recently learned of a slight financial loss - he would prefer if I were... discrete... as to the nature of this loss. He just recently commisioned a suit of armor from you, and sends me to cancel his order and negotiate a refund. Naturally, he understands that it would be unfair to expect you to go through such irritations with no compensation, so I'd like to offer that you keep 10% of all monies paid as a sort of cancellation fee, in hopes that you would be willing to accept a new commission once his financial statements are reordered... and in the hopes that you might be willing to remain discrete in this matter, so that no honor is lost on the part of my master." As he says this, he hands over the note he produced earlier for the Dwarf to inspect, if he chooses.
For now, I'm assuming that I won't need to make any additional checks since I've already made a Forgery check for this goal - if I do need to make a Bluff or Diplomacy check, please let me know, along with any bonuses I might get for having the document to (hopefully!) lend my claim legitimacy.

[industrious]

Jackson effects a smile and friendly expression. "Hold on my good sir, not need to be nervous. Just need to know where you're taking that horse."

[gdiddy]

Jaine,

"And as I speak of women, so comes a man who might speak more of them! Jaine Stone, tell these men of those Western women! I think they doubt my knightly word." He laughs. Going riding? The three of us were going tourneying. Care to come with? Black Tim here was getting lonely being surrounded by nobles. I'm sure you understand the sentiment.

---

Dirkin,

The dwarf looks over the letter, then looks back to you.

The smile comes off his face. What's Gyfield trying to do here? I have four gallons of pearl white enamel downstairs for his gaudy crime against steel!

His face turns bright red, and his eyes bulge out.

"Are you telling me he wants his deposit back? BECAUSE THE POINT OF A DEPOSIT IS TO PREVENT AN OATH BREAKER FROM BREAKING HIS OATHS!"

He calms himself and waves his hand, brushing aside his anger, but remaining stern.

"But this isn't you're fault. I am not an Elf. I do not shoot the bringer of bad news. Tell that fat sow of a man to come down here and tell me he is an oathbreaker to Hegaz's face."

[loser0ll]

Dirkin starts to replace his paper, before hesitating. He continues to address the man in Dwarven, his voice almost hesitant. "I see... I hate to trouble you, but... if I report to my master that I have no gold to bring, he's much less likely to forgive the messenger. He'll likely, in his immediate anger, assume I have kept the coin for myself - and right or wrong, he is still my master, so and I'm honor-bound to suffer any abuse he directs at me before he discovers the truth, if he bothers to look into it at all instead of taking my money and posessions and penalizing my wages. Could you, perhaps, pen and seal a brief note on the back of this parchment, saying you read it and that you hold him to his oath?"

[Ormagoden]

Wynnifrith surprised to see her mother up and about so soon excitement takes over and she gives he a long hug.
"At any time of day I would enjoy my mother's company."
She stretches slightly feeling relaxed in the solar she is all smiles and tilting her head quizzically she asks.
"What does pluck at the thoughtful harp strings of my mothers heart?"

[Lubirio]

Straightening up as sir Wethers grabs her by the arm, Morgan shook her arm loose, holding her sword's hilt, and as a result she partially drew it, making a loud *shiiiing* noise. She was, however, unhampered and acted as if nothing happened before replying to the master of arms in an irritated manner. "I shall act however I wish, thank you very much. As far as young Lady Grayen is concerned, I was just having little fun. Call it a joke of mine, I wanted to see what she would do." Smiling without humor as she finished, Morgan quickly sheathed her blade fully again and proceeded with her daily routine, letting sir Wethers go his own way. Let him think of me as he wishes. I do my yoga now.

After keeping this up for almost a full hour, longer than she'd usually do it, Morgan went back to her chambers to undon her armor and dress for outdoor riding. Taking Henry's practice blade with her, Morgan went to the stables on her way to the lunchroom to check up on her riding horse. "I would like to take him riding this afternoon. I shall have lunch and come back, I expect him ready then." Waiting for no particular response, Morgan tipped the stable-boy and left for lunch to meet Wynnifrith and tell her she'd take her up on the offer.

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar’s lip curls involuntarily as he listens to the filthy creatures grovel pathetically as though they had committed far worse deeds. Of course he was insulted, why wouldn’t he be? However, continuing to carry on only wastes more of his precious time. He jerks his hand out of the creature’s grasp, trying for the sake of politeness not to wipe the feeling of revulsion off on the hem of his dressing gown.

“What, pray tell, would ever delay you?” He says this slowly, not bothering to hide his obvious displeasure. Why, for the life of him, he ever decided to hire such dim help is beyond him. Thrift should never come at the expense of quality. Ever. Eleazar reminds himself to impart this knowledge his son when next he sees him. Education is best heard from the mouth of ones elders, of course.“Answer me quickly, cur!”

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel glanced chirpily at the duo as she tucked the last of her belongings into her stuffed backpack. She slung it over her shoulder. Knowing that nothing particularly pressing demanded her attention, she meandered over to them, giving an easy wave and smile when near. Her dazzlingly differently coloured eyes curiously observed them.

“A good morning to your quaint night. How's the finest couple in Karmark?” Her words were so sunny that flowers could have bloomed under them.

[gdiddy]

Jackson, (Sorry. You ninja'd me.)

His slack-jawed stupidity emmanates freely from his O-shaped mouth.

"I...uh...this...um...this horse? I was-"

He bolts down the street, leaving your horse. You marvel at why he wouldn't use the horse to escape.

---

Dirkin,

Roll Diplomacy.

---

Wynnifrith,



Your mother has had a plate of sliced fruit and meats, and two glasses of pale yellow wine laid out on her table. She reclines on a wide couch near the low table and motions for you to sit on a matching couch opposite her.

Her ladies-in-waiting take her empty spirit glass from her. Oblivious to them before this point, your mother dismisses them.

"A number of things tug at my heart. Your brother, squiring for a dragon in the north. My husband likely being called back to the borderlands before the first tree fruits."

She smiles kindly, before continuing. "My daughter, a woman grown and flowered, without a husband."


---

Morgan,

You are told by Wynnifrith's cousin, Gunhilda, a 12-year-old round-faced girl with long, curly, and bright orange hair that Wynnifrith and her mother are dining in her mother's solar in the lord's tower. The girl promises to relay the message with a blush, leaning on her heels, with her hands behind her back. She awkwardly trips backwards, mumbles something, and runs.

---

Eleazar,

"Your humble students had gone to the temple of <The Mother> to offer sacrifice for the new year."

The word is Draconic, and one you've heard before. Many of the Silver Duchy's subjects worship The Mother. It was no surprise they'd engage in their pagan ritual the day after the solstice, primitive as they are. Damn things are laid in eggs. No wonder they crave a mother figure.

"Right now though, before we are beaten, Mathusis the Sage and Halix the Alchemist are going to continue the work you have so magnanimously paid for."

Mathusis pauses for a moment, showing off that he has remembered the word you taught him last month: magnanimously. He pulls back his lips, exposing his teeth in an attempt at a smile, something his physiology simply cannot accomplish. When he receives no response, he elbows Halix and two scurry about, cleaning up the remains of your dinner from last night.

The maids refuse to clean your apartment anymore because of your demonstrative behavior. At the top of castle Farhold's Tower of Stars, named for the black granite speckled with copper flakes that it was built from, your apartment was beginning to get disgusting before you hired assistants. The fact that they were traveling students from the Silver Duchy was no matter. There is no better teacher for hundreds of miles and you pay them, besides. Since you've hired them a year ago, both have made some progress, but neither has mastered a single spell, yet. Neither has shown any sign of impatience or insolence, aside from their obvious racial handicaps.

There is one thing that can be said for Kobold assistants: they know their place.

[Gorgondantess]

"Nothing compared to the southerners", Jaine says with a sigh. "Actually, I'll be travelling alone. I have... business along the way." Like getting roaring drunk every night. I doubt these hooligans would be kind company for a hangover. With that, he mounts his horse, and after swaying a bit, sets off... directly from the stables.

[loser0ll]

Diplomacy[roll0]

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Morgan sighed silently at the girl's silly behavior and hoped Wynnifrith wouldn't get the message too late. She continued on her way to the lunchroom then, and went over to one of the cooks humorously, asking for lunch, and told him a joke. "What, pray tell good cook, is the difference between pea soup, and roast beef? You of all people should know, don't you think?" The cook looked surprised and didn't respond immediately, so she leaned over and whispered the answer in the man's ear with a devilish smile on her visage. "Any cook can roast beef..." And with that, Morgan winked and took her plate, leaving the kitchen and the man, the latter pondering as to what she meant by that exactly. She proceeded to sit alone at a table not too close to the door, so that people might not notice her at first glance, only if they were really looking for her would they see her sitting there.

I'm taking ten on a Bluff check to look innocent, for a result of 17. (What? Feinting is under the same skill)

Maybe even a Charisma check to make the joke funny? :smallamused: (taking ten results in a 13)

[LongVin]

Baltasar

"Of course, I have no business to attend to for awhile." He motions to the barmaid to bring a round of drinks over.

It was far to early for him to be drinking but it was best for him to keep his cohorts in good spirits and atleast try to conform to the Dwarven drinking custom of non-stop boozing atleast in spirit.

Bringing the Ale over, he hands the barmaid a few coins to cover the cost of the round and a tip. Lifting the mug of Ale high, he clinks it with the other 2 and toasts "For a good and profitable war season."

[Ormagoden]

Wynnifrith sighed very quietly as she sat looking to her mother; she desperately fought the urge to roll her eyes. She knew better than to add additional worry to her mothers shoulders and pushed forward a smile when she spoke.
"Mother, you know that my brother is a capable and thoughtful boy, he is fairing well of that I have no doubt. I had no incling that father would ride to the boarderlands, this is unusual this time of year isn't it? So soon after peacefall?"
A bit of a concerned look comes over Wynnifrith and she looks thoughtful as she peers at the table filled with fruits. Hoping that the explanation of her father's summons might cause her mother to at least temporarily forget about pressing her into marriage. Her own thoughts drifted silently as she folded her hands, her eyes reflected memories of Cormont. It was soon clear that she was not listening to what her mother had said in the least and she suddenly shook her head a bit.
"I'm sorry mother, what was that?"
She said softly.

[caleyndryn]

Watching a kobold smile is very much like watching a dog stand upon his hind legs, or watching a women attempt mathematics, as amusing and entertaining as it is, it nevertheless is just not the correct way of things. Eleazar rubs his temples, attempting to clear the fog of sleep from his mind. Apart from the money, he simply cannot see a single good thing about this time of year, the merriment troubles his sleep, and the whores always expect more money for their troubles, the fact that a tournament is on its way only helps to sour his mood.
Attempting to unknot the aching muscles in his back, Eleazar rubs at a particularly tender spot at the base of his spine as he walks towards his desk. He pauses only to run his long, tapered fingers almost lovingly over a particularly well worn book simply titled "The Unraveling of Milkmaid Molly" set rather prominently in his bookcase. His desk, the only thing he doesn't allow the kobolds to touch, is a mass of controlled chaos, journals, papers, spilled ink, Eleazar peels the topmost layer of notes off of the mess and reads. Just because the rest of the castle seems to languish in some extended holiday, doesn't mean that Eleazar is going to rest. There is no rest, not for those who thirst for knowledge.

[gdiddy]

Rachel,

Resia turns on you and glares.

...waiting for Zerkai. If you want, you can walk away from them and do something else.


---

Jaine,

This may seem forward, but what is Jaine wearing? :smalltongue:

As you leave through the front gate of Sevenkeep, your father's castle outside Karhold, your horse hits a trotting stride of the paved road of the Horn Road. It's named for its shape, it sweeps directly west and then curves south into Grayen lands. Though it is too early in the year, there are constant cattle drives into the Kinglands along it in the early Autumn. The spring snow is being melted by a light rain.


---

Dirkin,

"I cannot give you my guild seal without another brother in witness. I will save you a beating you do not deserve, though."

On thick vellum, the kind used in the shop, Hegaz writes:

Poros, I do not understand your man's request.
Come see me.

~HT


---

Morgan,

A smirking laughter is heard from the kitchen. Behind you, the cook yells after you: "You should stop trading jokes with the squires, Sir! Lord Grayen may decide you are too humorous a man to waste jousting and dress you in motley instead!"

As you make your way into the great hall, you see very few people eating. Most are nibbling on bread and

Several knights sit down beside you. Servants quickly bring over a bowl of spiced buttermilk and a meter long piece of hard black bread. Water, cider, and mead is served by squires, who circle the table quietly. This is followed by a plate of steamed chicken livers, brought by a junior cook with a pock-marked face.

These were for tonight's feast, but the cook sends his regards to Sir Morgan Thomason, "the jester knight".

A cry issues forth from the table and glasses are raised to you "Our champion! The Jester Knight!" someone cries.

The other knights tear at the bread, spreading on the cooked livers and dipping the bread in the butter milk. Many begin talking and laughing. There is conversation of the war season, of the competition next week, and of other jocular yard topics. You are given a deference, in all conversations. Of all of the unlanded fighting men in service of Lord Grayen, you are considered supreme and of value. They speak about the foreign knights of renown, "Black" Tim Woods, Ryan Olrich "the Golden Bull". They also speak of famous local knights, the Lord's uncle, white-haired Sir Galleston Grayen, Sir Jerum Lyebanks, and Lord Yohn the Widower of Galefort.

A friendly-faced young man whose name you don't remember, sweat still dripping from his yellow hair because of his effort in the yard, smiles and asks "What was that between you and Wethers in the yard? I take it you didn't like the gift from Lord Grayen?"


---

Baltasar,

A dull ring is heard in your own mind, followed by "My friend, the Asteros Bastard, Jaine Stone, has left Karhold with a single riding horse. He carries a message for Lord Grayen. He is alone."


---

Wynnifrith,

Your mother sighs.

"Baltasar tells us the King Makas of Arlore has called his banners. It has been two years since your father pushed him back and took both banks of the Lyewater. He is a shamed man, with the ego of a king. Makas likely wants to retake what he sees as his. But this is not a war council.

Daughter, Wynnie... I am worried for you and so is your father. You have only been the perfect daughter to us both and we wish to give you to a man so he might know how wonderful you are. Unfortunately, Lon has taken your previous two husbands-to-be from us. This has made it hard for us to find you a match.

Your father is a romantic fool. He contemplated offering you as a tourney prize. I rejected the idea for the folly it is. My daughter's life, love, and womb are not baubles, given in change of a coin purse. He wants to see you with Lord Yohn of Galefort or the Olrich boy. But Thomason or the Darrow Bastard could win as easily. If your brother's knight, the dragon Ulasis chooses to compete, he might win handily. We are friendly with the Duchess, do not wish to tie our family into hers. She would think us a part of her lands if you were to marry her nephew. Nor do I want you with a bastard, Darrow or not. Sir Morgan is beautiful and valiant, but such a match would not work, for a number of reasons. Supremely, because of his birth. You don't marry the help.

However, your father is right in that this tournament is a great opportunity to have you betrothed. We have devised a tourney of 5 champions. Your brother at the opening ceremony will crown you Queen of Love and Beauty. Five men will be chosen by your brother to defend your title. Among them, your father, Lord Yohn, and Sir Thomason. The tourney knights may challenge your champions at will, and may become your champion if they unhorse one of them. You may have free pick of your five champions to give your hand to. You may give your hand to your father, and he will pick for you among the men in attendance. It is all legal, fair, and gives you a choice you would not otherwise have."

At this, your father walks in, finely dressed in white and beige silks, he smiles.

I heard my ears ringing. Beautiful women are speaking of me. I will not hold court today, Wynnie, I have delayed my business for our ride. I am


---

Eleazar,

You only have about 5 hours before dinner and then the after dinner council with Lord Grayen. Mathusis runs back and forth between you and the shelf, piling books and setting them beside your chair. Among them are such tomes as "The Relationship of Vapors" and "The Oceans of the Planes". He then begins to flip through them and take down notes from among them.

Behind the heavy oaken door to the Alchemy laboratory, a dull "boom" is heard. Halix emerges, covered in soot. He grabs a set of scrolls titled "Sulphur, Salts, and Their Properties Together" by Eleazar Bygod, and sets to work ghostwriting the manuscript under your name. The Collegium of Magic in Karhold has ordered it and intends to publish it, paying you 600 gold for your research.

Do you assist Halix with the book or Mathusis with spell research?

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine drinks most, if not all, of the wine in his wineskins on the first day, getting roaring drunk before he camps down at night, at the side of the road. He wears simple silks, decent clothing, loose and comfortable but impractical for rough living, and no jewelry.

[loser0ll]

Dirkin looks over the parchment and pockets it. "This... might work. Oh! My master did send one more instruction - in the event that his non-refundable deposit was... not refunded... he wanted me to ask for any update you might have on the date of expected completion, and when it might be picked up."

[LongVin]

Baltasar


Baltasar instinctivily moves a hand to to the side of his head and closes his eyes. It was a strange feeling and he never believed he would get used to it.


OOC: Does Baltasar know who is performing the sending?

IC: Concentrating, Baltasar carefully arranges his thoughts knowing not to waste his reply to the spell. As annoying as this form of communication was for him he knew it was much worse for the sender. "Thank you my friend. I will make sure to investigate the matter and inform my lord of his approach."


Finishing his pint of ale, he orders another round for Hermann and the Dwarf before departing. This time going out the front door of the tavern. Unless it couldn't be helped always use a different way in and out of a building just in case someone was waiting for you outside.

Near the castle, the spymaster ducks into an alleyway and removes the disguise. Let the guards be confused on how he is returning if they never saw him leave.

Entering the castle Baltasar heads directly for his room to see if any reports had been delivered for him.

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Expecting and hoping for far less company, Morgan decided it's best to either get the least possible attention, or the most possible attention, settling for the latter she joined in heartily, and every time anyone mentioned 'sir' Thomason, she flinched ever so slightly at the wrong description. Upon being called "the jester knight" Morgan shrugged and gave all the credit to the boy she trained with this morning, Carl, who'd never heard of the joke before in his life.

Once the young man got her attention, she listened to him speaking of sir Wethers, but when she heard him speak of some gift of Lord Grayen, Morgan looked baffled. She hadn't heard of that before, and to be honest, she'd love to hear more about it, so she questioned the young man, turning around in her seat fully, facing him. "I am extremely sorry, but I do no know what you are speaking of. Would you be so kind as to enlighten me of the exact whereabouts of this gift of our mighty lord?" Trying to keep her social demeanor was hard for Morgan, but she managed to put all her curiosity in that simple sentence and hope the young man understood.

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar considers Halix for a brief moment before walking over to his bookshelf. After considering the books before him, he selects two volumes off of the shelf and proceeds to walk over to the kobold. "The word you were looking for, when last we worked on this, was 'burst'" he explains cooly. "Big explosion'" should not appear in your vernacular! He tosses the two books down before him, revealing the volumes to be a dictionary and a thesaurus. "You are making me look a fool in front of my peers!"

His help with Halix completed, he moves on to help Mathusis with spell research.

[gdiddy]

Jaine,

150 XP for the balls it takes to travel alone. I assume you have a warm cloak and your armor with you, as well as a lean-to and some means of starting a fire. It is cold out.

You have a very violent nightmare involving a black armored figure and a hot poker, but otherwise have a fairly restful night of drunken sleep.

---

Dirkin,

Another knight walks in behind you, and coughs impatiently.

"As I told him; he needs to come in for two more fittings, once in two days, and again on the Sabbath before the tournament. It will be delivered on the morning of the tournament to his pavilion as he asked. But I have other customers now. Tell him to come back here. We'll work out an interest plan that can allow him to pay for it."


---

Baltasar,

The messenger is one of the contacts fostered by your predecessor, Sir Marcus Karson, who was hung for treason in the capital. The contact is a mage and professor at the Collegium at Karhold. Often letters in the spy network that your predecessor built and you inherited are addressed to Marcus. This has lead to several rumors that he is still alive.

There are two letters waiting for you under your door.

The first is unsealed and scrawled in a swooping handwriting with several scratch marks and corrected spellings.

Dear Marcus,

Are there any new products in the house I frequent? Preferably red-headed ones.

Dictated but not Read,
Towering Friend with the Little Dragon
(Written proudly by his assistants Halix the Alchemist and Mathusis the Sage for their beneficent master Eleazar!)


Dear Marcus,

The elf is a dancer of some renown, though an Elven furniture maker in the merchant quarter claims he was also a bravo in the coastal city Lyros some 150 years ago.

I have uncovered nothing on the singer. Should I arrange a business trip?

~Your Friend


---

Morgan,

"The horse. He was bragging about it-"

He's interrupted by a blow to the ear by the man sitting next to him. The two stand up and face each other behind you. The man who hit the young knight is older with graying hair. His name is Sir Byram Yor and he is among Lord Grayen's oldest and most respected soldiers.

"Don't mind the riff-raff, Morgan. This hedge knight is ruining your surprise. The tourney is bringing them here and their assuming on Lord Grayen's hospitality by speaking to their betters."

The two men stare each other down.

---

Eleazar,

Halix nods quickly, hefts the books on his back, the heavy books buckling his small spine as he heads back to the alchemy lab.

Mathusis smiles again and sticks his tongue out of the side of his mouth, concentrating on reading the Karmen text. His notes are in an elegant sweeping Draconic, written small and precisely.

"Master, I think we'll need a few materials for your current spell research that we do not have. Halix the Alchemist and Mathusis the Sage may provide the silver for it from your generous payment. We wil still need the heart of a water elemetal or some other watery beast. The text mentions something called an aboleth that has an organ that might be used. We could employ someone to retrieve it for your use? I do not think it will be cheap, however."

---

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar failed a will save.


Eleazar's lip curls as he watches the beast's tongue flop out of his mouth like some cow chewing its cud. Disgusting. His fist clenches and in one lightning quick moment, his hand shoots out and cracks Mathusis across the back of the head like a misbehaving dog. Civilized creatures keep certain appendages inside of their bodies he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

[gdiddy]

Eleazar,

Mathusis reels back, his tiny body hitting the floor with a satisfying thud.
"The master will please forgive Mathusis the Sage! I can do nothing about my tail. I know it offends you!"

[caleyndryn]

"I am speaking of your tongue!" Eleazar's nerve frays at the edges as he stares down at this pathetic creature. "Civilized. Creatures. Do not allow. Such appendages. To stick out. Now get up!" His piece spoken, Eleazar turns back to his notes. We need to decide who to hire to purchase this elemental heart for this further research."

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Baltasar sits down at his desk and pens two responses before sealing them with wax, without a seal.

Taking the first one to Bekker's room he bangs on the door in the typical manner before sliding it underneath the frame. As always he checks the hallway first to make sure that no one witnesses the event.

Coded letter to Bekker

Dear MB,

Good work. I believe that is all we need to know for now on the Elf.

As for the singer, a business trip should be made.

Sincerely,

Your Friend


Next he headed for the tower in which the wizard called his home. Ascending the stairs he pounded down with heavy steps exagerating the sound. He was a loud one in court and everyone knew his pounding knocks and his heavy footsteps. It was of course all a calculated show. Naturally he was a quiet one but it paid off that people believed he was loud. That way if he ever had to come for them to arrange an accident they would never expect it or see it coming.

Rapping on the door to the wizard's room he slips a letter underneath the door for Eleazar.

Letter to Eleazar

Dear towering friend with the little dragon,

I believe that the house has a few new additions in preperation for the upcoming tournament. I will make some inquiries and if you wish I can arrange for a few fresh ones to be brought to you for the usual price(5 gold.)

Of course, if something unfortunate were to happen it will cost 50 gold to cover the House's expenses and make the problem go away.

Sincerely,

Your Friend


Turning around on his heels Baltasar heads towards the great hall in search of Lord Grayan.

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar hears the familiar sound of parchment slip under the cold iron of his door. Knowing full well exactly who is sending the letter, Eleazar rushes to the door and swiftly opens it. "Baltasar! Friend!" he calls down the hall at spymaster's retreating back.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

The spymaster comes to a halt and spins about returning to the now open doorway. "Eleazar, it is good to see you. I hope all is well with your work?"

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar, extremely grateful for companionship that was not the savagery of his kobold assistants, smiles. "Work is going very well, however, I seem to have need of you that um...my recent letter did not address." He reaches out with one incredibly long, spindly leg and pushes the letter that was slipped under his door further across the threshold. It seems that my research requires materials that are far beyond my abilities to attain, and I require your help."

[LongVin]

"Of course, what is it that you need?" Baltasar replies glancing around to make sure that not is spying in on the little exchange.

[caleyndryn]

I warn you now. Eleazar is a total dork.


Eleazar leans in towards Balthasar, enjoying the air of conspiracy. My tower is well secured, my friend, I took it upon myself upon moving in years ago to seal off any secret passageways that might have been here. Upon allaying the fears of his friend, Eleazar takes a moment to remind himself of the business at hand. "I am working on a spell that goes into the very heart of water...and for that I require the heart of a aboleth," He explains, his face melting back into that of the stern scholarly taskmaster. "An aboleth is a creature of the sea, a very dangerous creature. This is a difficult thing to acquire, but something I am willing to pay for."

[LongVin]

Baltasar rubs his chin, pondering the logistics of such a task. It was certainly outside of his own general expertise but that doesn't mean there wasn't someone, somewhere who could obtain it for him.

"That is a tall order... I will need some time to find the proper resources and connections who will be able to obtain it. I doubt I can find a heart just floating in a marketplace. It will cost you a hefty amount but I will investigate commissioning a band of adventurers to secure this heart for you."

[Gorgondantess]

Oh, yes, definitely. And a tent.
Thank you, sir, may I have another?:smallamused:
Jaine wakes up with a violent hangover and little memory of the day before. He goes to his wineskin, as the ultimate nepenthe, and finds only dregs: frustrated, he kicks down his tent as he packs back up, and sets off hastily and without breakfast. It's damn cold, and the sooner he can get to his destination and a balm of some sort the better.

[loser0ll]

Dirkin bows and beats a hasty retreat, seeming fearful of offending a waiting Knight, as though he was used to great impatience from his 'fat cow of a master' on a regular basis. He jogs away, out of sight, thinking over the items he has collected today. He finds a safe place to remove his disguise before returning to the castle, disappointed that he has no extra gold, but proud of gaining a valuable good - a valuable handwriting sample.

With little else to do at the moment, and the day still young, he decides to spend a little time searching for anything interesting he might look into.
DC 10 Gather Information to learn anything going on, the higher the check the better the information apparantly... Wish I had saved that Natural 20 for this. :p [roll0]

[Zerkai]

"I'm sorry..." Thomus bowed his head "If you're hungry, or someone tries to touch you, wake me." he looked to her, frowning a little from hearing what had almost happened to her.

"But hopefully it'll be some time before it happens again. Maybe we should look for a place to stay first then." he started to walk and exit the kitchen. <And if you see the man who tried touch you, tell me so I can have a little discussion with him.> he added in Elven, glancing back at her.

I'm not sure if this calls for a Gather Information check to find out about houses or buildings for sale in the city. It may be a DC 10 or 15... I'm not sure. The higher check result, the better the information I believe.
Gather Information: [roll0]

How long it takes to Gather Information: [roll1]

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel had never liked having daggers pointed at her. She counted it as one of her delightful quirks. Thus, when Resia turned sharp eyes on her, Rachel considered it was a conversation for two. Thomus ignoring her confirmed it.

“Uh, perhaps I should go for a stroll.” Backing away she murmured, “It's not so cold out there...”

Exiting the common room, the minstrel paused. There weren't many grand opportunities for singing. She considered ways to make some, that went beyond moonlighting as a tavern entertainer. It occurred to her that the knight's tournament was some days away and a smile slipped unto her face. She tried to recall the likely place to find the knights, and went off searching.

[Ormagoden]

Quickly waving away her sadness as her mother speaks, she listens intently on the very important news.

Immediately there is a reaction of anger on her face; she thought to shout "am I chattel to be traded mother!" Were she a wolf her hackles would've raised and fur bristled, The anger however was very brief. She instead didn't speak up but listened and nodded quietly as she heard the rest. The look of anger faded quickly as he mother spoke, Wynnifrith was not disrespectful and she would not do the disrespect of not hearing her mother out.

Wynnifrith began to consider the circumstances. She was ever so much older than thirteen; how long would her beauty last and how desirable would she remain in the eyes of her father's would be allies. Her mother made mention of many names and she was in agreement with the advice she had provided on each of he men said. Wynnifrith was indeed only teasing Sir Morgan this morning in an effort to have some fun, The efficiency of her mother's rumor mill always astounded her. With her thoughts distracted her father entered and she stood and bowed to him.
"My lord you do the ladies of your house such honor."
She folded her hands together as she chose her next words carefully.
"Although it is not of my direct choosing I am happy with your suggestion I am blessed to have such a wonderful father and mother. A tournament will draw many suitors and with them my husband to be no doubt."
Wynnifrith kneaded her hands with a bout of nervousness that was very uncommon for her. She then asks quietly to have council with her mother and father in private. Once the room is clear she speaks plainly
"If I may be so forward as to ask for another challenge to be part of this tournament."
Wynnifrith says meekly.
"I know that riding, jousting, and fighting in the lists are admirable of quality. I do desire a husband that is experienced and accomplished in all of those things. These things however do not a man make. There are other virtues: Honesty, Loyalty, Charity, Kindness, and Humbleness. I seek a man with these qualities as well. I would judge each suitor in secret and see if he also holds these virtues in his heart. A series of silent challenges off the field that should give us a keen insight of his spirit along with testing his strength of arms in the tournament. What do you think of this my parents?..."
She pushed her fingers together and entwined them with one another as she looked between her mother and father.
"Should I judge any man who was eliminated earlier in the tournament with such qualities rare among men I would wish to give them the opportunity to joust again while publicly acknowledging the quality and goodness in their hearts. I feel this can be advantageous to our household and also to allow the choice of a suitor that pleases both myself and my father should the winners prove to be found wanting."
She sighs to herself chest dipping slightly as she spoke her final part.
"I have been selfish in my mourning of Cormont. I will not let my sadness hold back my engagement or the status of our house any longer. I submit my future to the kind judgment of my father and mother."

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar allows his heart to fill with gratitude for a moment, reaching for Balthasar's hand to grasp in a warm (albeit clammy) handshake. "For a breakthrough of this magnitude, I'd be willing to sell anything." Eerie, desperate sincerity drips from his words, and he releases Balthasar's hand from his grip. Now, it is time for other business at hand, there is such little time to spare before dinner, and that blasted meeting! Turning back to his door, he bends to pick up the letter that was originally slipped underneath. With an embarrassed cough he nods. "I thank you for your, um, correspondence. Do let me know what you find. I will, attend to other matters now. I trust I shall see you at a later time. Perhaps tonight."

With that he slams the door.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

The spymaster responds with just a nod. It would take some time and expense to obtain the heart of this creature but it would be well worth it. It was one of those unique items in which no value could be placed on such a rare object and thus was extremely valuable.

Slapping his riding gloves into his hand, always a staple of the men of the western lands he heads down the stairs in search of Lord Grayan.

[gdiddy]

Jaine,

I am rolling behind the scenes and you are very lucky, sir. If it seems boring, be thankful.

There is a settlement a day's ride ahead of you. Aside from that, it's fairly safe countryside.

---

Dirkin,

After supper, there is a council on the tournament that you could attend if you remain innocuous.

The city buzzes with activity in the build up for the tourney. Few alleyways are clear. Bars are full to capacity and the price of whores and spirits has increased. Any given night, there are two murders, a dozen fights, and twice as many rapes. This has been the case since the first freeriders and hedge knights arrived two weeks ago. Now that some 2,000 armed men have flocked to Farhold, there's quite a crime wave a foot.

---

Thomus,

Read the response for Dirkin.

You are recognized and eat well for a song at the Hollow Defeat, a bar near the merchant district of Farhold city.

There is an apartment above the Hollow Defeat renting for 5 gold a week. Quite reasonable, considering that the floor is made of thin planks and everything said in the bar above a whisper is heard in your bedroom. (Presumably, the opposite is true.) There is also a house of a old midwife that died in the winter. She was rumored to be a witch, and her house is going for the cheap price of 200 gold. It's conveniently at the foot of Farhold Castle.

About an hour into the house search, Resia apologizes and tells you she took the gold from your boot.

---

Rachel,

Read my response to Dirkin.

As the two leave your presence, a raucous series of male voices invades the hall. At an impromptu luncheon, you spot Sir Morgan, Grayen's champion entertaining his fellow knights. Two men near Morgan have just stood up and are facing each other.

---

Wynnifrith,

Your father and mother look at each other, at first surprised. Your father turns to you with the grin that makes most people he meets love him. He nods approvingly.
"Your husband shall be the luckiest man in Karhold. Of course, we'll discuss these additional tests later, most likely with Baltasar and Eleazar. I'd much prefer to talk of levity with my girls. This tourney is taking enough of my day as it is. I envy the days when my father would throw the damn things for me and I would sneak in and compete at my own birthday tourneys."


---

Eleazar,

As you go back to your work, smoke begins pouring from the edges of the door to the alchemy lab.

Mathusis is chittering in the manner of a frightened rodent as she runs toward the same door.


---

Baltasar,

You are aware of everything in my response to Dirkin.

As you come to the base of the Lord's Keep, the guard tells you that Jame is at lunch with his family. He asks you if it is worth interrupting the Lord, honestly trusting your judgment on the matter.

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Morgan reacts surprised at hearing the young man tell him about a horse, Does he mean the horse I saw Lord Grayen sitting atop this morning? No, that horse didn't like me, it can't be. Shaking the thought off her, she notices the disagreement's accelerated, and upon hearing sir Yor say the man was ruining his surprise, she nodded to him and left them to their business. Morgan wasn't the type of person to get enraged by these things, but she still wondered if the rumor was true. It must be, Yor said he 'ruined the surprise', which must mean there's at least some truth in it. She turns back around and keeps eating, letting the duo settle things their own way.

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

It took a moment for Rachel to reconcile what she saw. Two knights close to coming to blows. Her thoughts leaped through a plethora of poems, finally dragging one from the pile and thrusting it to the forefront of her tongue. She licked her lips before singing it.

“Knight against Knight,
Knave against Knave,
Disdainful, they stood tall,
Disgrace be their sword,
Pride be their shield,
They aid their banner to fall;
But who should care,
To stop a fight,
When all they know,
Is 'I am right!' Proceed then,
To come to blows,
End only your dearest foes...”


I'm actually using four skills, I think...

1. Combining singing with poetry, and so using the Versatile Performer feat. Perform: Sing. [roll0] Perform: Poetry. [roll1]

2. Bluff to deliver a 'secret' message (in the poem) hopefully without insulting anyone. The message is essentially that, “If you fight against your own allies ('dearest foe'), you quickly go from being knights too knaves, weaken your own House ('aid their banner to fall'), while only bringing dishonour to yourself through pride.” I'll just Take 10 on this so they fully understand what I'm trying to say. Result is 21 so they should understand.

3. Diplomacy. Trying to try calm the situation. Not worried about this when even a 1 should be enough to calm things...unless they're actually Hostile. :smalleek: [roll2]

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Baltasar nods, "Yes, I believe this matter needs to be addressed before tonights council."

[loser0ll]

Deciding that learning a little more about the tournament could be nice, Dirkin chooses to begin his performance slightly earlier than normal today, timing it so that he'll end just before supper finishes. He starts with small tricks - making coins and flowers disappear from his hand as if by magic (well, maybe not 'magic' - actually seeing that scared people a lot more than some small man who was good with his hands) and the like. Then he started working his way up - juggling tricks, first with balls, then with random objects. He finishes with his (and the crowds) favorite - juggling daggers. When he starts feelings the daggers in his hands, a change comes over his face - he is enthralled by the knives. The crowd barely matters anymore. He concludes the act by throwing all the knives up, and letting them come down - falling in a circle around where he stands with his eyes closed.

With the act finished, he bows out, and collects what money he has earned - people drop tips, throw down a few coins, even chuck a few up for him to juggle during the act. It makes enough to eat.


Sleight of Hand check (as Perform)
[roll0]
If check result is 15-19 "Enjoyable" Earns Silver Pieces
[roll1]
If check result is 20-24 "Great" Earns Silver Pieces
[roll2]
If check result is 25-29 "Memorable" Earns Gold Pieces
[roll3]
If check result is 30+ "Extraordinary" Earns Gold Pieces
[roll4]

[loser0ll]

Disappointed at having a performance below his usual level, Dirkin collects his earnings. Sure, they're earned from only a partial days work, and still twice what your average laborer could earn... but that just wasn't enough. But with nothing to do about it at the moment, he heads off to try and listen in on the tournament meeting.

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine moves on, over the hangover and quite sober. He hadn't ridden since... well, since he really had a need to ride, and it brought back the same thoughts he had been trying to supress so long. Pushing his horse into a strong gallop, he lets the wind blow away the memories.
Reaching the settlement, he finds himself short of coin for room and bed, let alone drink. Grumbling, grimacing, he looks around for a good place to camp.

[caleyndryn]

"Damndable things!" Eleazar cries. He bolts across the room, knocking Mathusis aside in the mad dash to get to the door. "You best be protecting the manuscript! Parchment and ink does not come cheap!"

[gdiddy]

Rachel and Morgan,

Rachel:
They're both friendly with you. Not with each other. 150 XP.

Morgan:
Make sure you read Rachel's previous post.

"Fine words, singer. But this is no fellow knight in service to Lord Grayen. Look at his yellow Southern hair. He is a hedge knight, a vagrant with a tiny mountain horse and some filthy armor." He taps a blonde lock on the man's head that the young man flinches away from.

"Sir, I meant only to be friendly and meet a local hero. You insult me deeply. However, the lady is right. I do not want to start my tourney career and my first day in Lord Grayen's home with a fight with one of his sworn men. I realize that you are no reflection on Western hospitality, so I shall dine with other men in the yard. I shall look for you on the lists, Sir Graymont. Know my name, Sir Daeron Tymon, for I know yours."

The man grabs a heel of bread and dips it in front Morgan. He approaches close to Graymont and bites it in from of him, smiles, and marches out the back door.

---

Baltasar,

The velvet-draped granite halls of the Lord's Keep are imposing as always.

The dozen or so guards you pass ignore you. You belong here and go unquestioned.

You find the Lord and his family dining on couches around a low table. Picturesque and beautiful, the three of them would make a lovely subject for a portrait as they laugh and speak in melodic voices.

---

Dirkin,

(You're kind of ahead of most people. Mind waiting until the meeting begins.)

---

Jaine,

There is a tower held by one of you're father's knight in the town that you could stay at.

---

Eleazar,

Halix, bursts from the door in a cloud of smoke. It begins snaking out through your high windows. Halix is holding your documents, and breathing raggedly. He collapses on the floor, holding them out to you. Mathusis is emitting a hissing noise and a high-pitched squealing from his dual sets of vocal cords as he looks on at Halix.

---

[LongVin]

Baltasar

The man small by westland standards and vritually a child compared to the giant that was Jame Grayan made sure he was presentable he adjusted his weapons belt and approached the Lord and his family with his uncharasterically loud boot steps. Coming up to Grayan with a click of his heels and dropping into a bow he addresses his liege.

"My Lord and my ladies my apologies for disrupting your lunch but I bring news for you that is of much importance." He pauses for a moment before continuing "I have received word from a most reputable source that Jaine Stone of House Asteros rides towards us with a personal letter from his majesty King Lionel himself for you. For reasons unknown to me he rides alone despite the warnings of bandits and goblin activity. I ask your permission to dispatch a bodyguard of riders to meet with him and escort him safely to the castle."

[Gorgondantess]

In that case, Jaine heads over to the tower, and sees if anybody's home.

[gdiddy]

Baltasar and Wynnifrith,

Jame stands up, his smile leaving him.

"Yes. By all means. Send some men to meet him and bring him back here. Has anyone seen Jackson? I'd prefer to send someone I trust, but you belong here in these days. My son is arriving soon and I'd prefer not to be without you, my eyes and ears."

He pauses. He looks at Wynnifrith for half a moment.

"Lionel loves that boy. He is not always an agreeable man, this Jaine Stone, but I hardly want the fool to come to harm. No going missing, Baltasar. Maybe some of our new hedge knight boarders would like to see the Horn Road and blood their mounts afore the tourney. In any case, the tourney is delayed for his arrival."


Jaine,

The knight, Sir Kale Bomas is in residence, a childless one legged man that your father gave this town as a retirement estate. He has several town guards and an attached stable with several beautiful horses. He lives with a younger man named Jonatan of uncertain birth or position. Jon acts like both a squire and butler, though. They are generally affable people. They give you mead and cheese. A bath is also arranged before dinner.

"I once held the Jade Ford over the Lyewater for a day and a night against the Hammer of Arlore. His men charged against us twice an hour in that horrid rain, and their arrows made our shields look like porcupines, but we held! Those were real wars back, then, Stone. Though this King Makas is a brave one. He may yet give a new generation of Karmen the chance for glory in his incompetence."

He speaks quite a bit about his former glories, though they're usually interesting. He is a good storyteller though, and a great drinking companion. You realize you may have liked him if you'd known him when he was younger. Now though, he has a sadness that bleeds through at times.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

"Of course my lord. I will personally handpick the men to be sent on this mission and give them detailed instructions. Jaine Stone will arrive safetly and quickly."

As he is about to take a step away to take his leave he stops for a second to address another topic brought up by Grayan

"As for Jackson...I have not seen him since the start of Peacefall. I am sure he is fine, but, if you so desire I will conduct a search and discern his whereabouts."

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel watched the blonde knight until he disappeared outdoors. She sighed, relieved no violence was volunteered. The minstrel moved easily into the great hall. Stopping before the knight's table, she sidestepped the attending squires, giving them right of passage in their duties. Delaying a trainee knight might be deemed an indirect slight, so she was keen to avoid it.

She smiled while quipping to Sir Graymond, “If you didn't stop just then, I might have asked someone to wear my favour. I'd thought the jousting began early.”

Turning to the group of sirs, Rachel grasped the lighter blue of her ruffled skirt, curtsying. Her formfitting dress was dark blue over her torso, its white frills frolicking along the clothing's ribbing; drawing attention to where clothing and curves met. Only her breasts, midriff and sex fully concealed. Besides brown leather, soft shoes up to knee length, all else was on display. It was an entertainer's garb, and she always sported it unless she an occasion demanded different attire.

“Greetings, great sirs. I don't mean to disrupt your meal, but I would ask you all about the upcoming tournament. I'm likely apart of the entertainment, and curious to specific wants. Is there any particular song or instrument any of you would find inspiring before a joust?”

Yay for XP. :smallsmile:

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine tries to remain jolly throughout the night, but the reason he drank was because he was unhappy: to drink and be merry was an alien concept to him. So, he spent most of the time as a rapt listener to the man's stories, only getting somewhat drunk. When the old man is done talking, he politely retires to his room.

[Ormagoden]

Wynnifrith waits politely pausing in conversation with her father and mother to hear the words of Ghislain her father's man. She smiles as he speaks to pay such a servant of the realm respect and acknowledgment. Ghislain's words however take a bit of the breath from Wynnifrith. A message from the king, and a lone messenger riding hard towards her father's keep. The news must be dire or the man a fool; even Wynnifrith was learned enough in the ways of the land not to go riding alone on the roads.

As her father commanded the retrieval of the messenger her thoughts went to the gods of protection hoping for this Jaine Stone's safe delivery into their lands and castle. She wondered to the contents of the message, mother was mentioning something about father being summoned. Perhaps this was the writ detailing it on its way in the hands of this brave or foolhardy fellow.

She wondered for a moment why her father looked at her so...She knew it wasn't prudent to talk of her plans for the tournament; she simply remained silent and listened to the information given.

"My lord, If it pleases you I would handle the matter and go forth with the knights to receive the king's messenger as a representative of this court and household."

[caleyndryn]

"Stop your blasted screaming!" Eleazar snaps at Mathusis while snatching the manuscript from Halix's hands. Honestly, the eerie inhuman sound filling his lab was doing nothing but give him a headache. With the sheaf of papers safe in his arms, he moves with it back to his desk. He lays the manuscript carefully on top of the topmost layer of clutter and runs back to the door of the lab. He looks down at Halix."What have you done!?" he screams down at the wheezing kobold. He turns his eyes back to the problem at hand. What was more important than that...could he fix it without anyone finding out?

[gdiddy]

Baltasar and Wynnifrith,

Jame looks at his daughter. He is wearing his Lord's face. With no visible emotion, he weighs the idea. He smiles sadly.

"He is not a good man, Wynnie. He is a drunkard and a womanizer. Some say he's even killed men. He may be the son of our king, but he would not be kind to you.

Though...it is your decision."

"If you do choose to go, take Sir Morgan with you... And Sister Clairithane... And your dancing instructor, that Elven queer. The three of them will share a bed with you, and none are to take watch. Baltasar shall handpick the rest of your party" your mother interjects. Wynnifrith, you wince as you hear her voice sharpen and realize she has drank too much and it's barely noon.

"Though if you wish, you may also go now, Baltasar. Those who do go shall all leave on the morrow. However, speaking of Morgan, I think its almost time for our ride with him. I'll dress and meet you both down by the courtyard."


---

Rachel and Morgan,

"I could go for some entertainment before the lists, girl! Just meet me in the stables afore I'm called!" A rat-faced man calls to you from down the table. Other men laugh.

"I'd happily wear your favor against that fop. But you dress so scandalously, I must ask; where, exactly, do you keep your favors?" Sir Graymont says, his greying hair framing his still-handsome face. More laughter resounds.

The men laugh. Rachel, you are something of an oddity and used to the attention. The men still have the heat of the yard in their blood and it's fairly good fun.

---

Eleazar,

Mathusis holds his hand over his mouth, breathing heavily as he tries to rouse Halix. The smoke is thick and black, it burns your nostrils as it passes you.

The black smoke is quickly being swept up to the high windows in your main chamber. It's clearing quickly from the alchemy lab, enough to see its source. A two-foot wide copper bowl is seething with a black liquid. Thin tendrils of frost are branching out from it as it smokes.

Halix's eyes open. He coughs out a thin stream of thick black goop and then wipes his mouth before addressing you. "The master Eleazar. He has made a breakthrough. His humble student Halix, guided by his hand, has invented a potent salt mixture. It can be replicated with the notes. Is master pleased?"

---

Jaine,

In that case, you probably find him rather depressing. The old man remains in his hall as you retire, talking with his servant.

As you settle into bed and shutter your windows in the tower's guest room, you spot a rider approaching the tower. He has several horses, some of them suitable for a knight. He wears no helmet, his shoulder length brown hair blowing in the wind.

---

Orland,

It's cold, but not the kind that get's inside you. Your fur-lined cloak leaves you sweating as noon get's closer. Occasionally a wind rises that makes you grateful for it, though. Arming coat, breastplate, and the cloak are necessary riding gear for the time being. You should get used to wearing them as you ride farther from the capital. Rogue kobold tribes, robber knights, and simple bandits are as numerous as vermin in the spring into early autumn along the Horn Road.

A man can make quite a living with a decent sword and a good head on his shoulders. You're heading toward the Farhold tournament, for the melee prize, and maybe for a few knight's ransoms in pick-up bouts.

The three horses that trail behind you, carrying the ransoms you picked up at your last melee were not yours a month ago when you set off with your father's sword and your older brother's blessing. Your armor is the resized scraps of an old hedge knight and your gold is the ransom of a lord's clownish son who was collecting tolls on a bridge. They ignorantly call you "freerider" when they look at your black and markless shield. And then you hit them and take their things.

As you ride, a cold familiarity hits you. You're farther along than you thought you'd get today. With each horse unburdened, each carrying a fraction of your goods and equipment, they have set their own pace.

You see a tower in the distance, it's uncrenneled top overlooking a small town. They've added a mill, but otherwise, it looks much the same as when your family left it, shamed. This was your father's tower and town. The town is still Creedmont, according to the sign hanging over the smith's doorway, though your family's sigil has been covered by the green spear on a black field of Sir Bomas, the man who holds these lands.

The king, Lionel Asteros, has given it to the old cripple, a final slap in the face to your family. The town has no inn, but has enough houses. Perhaps the cripple would take your presence for some coin.

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar stares at Halix with his mouth open, bringing what's left of the smoke into his lungs one burning mouthful at a time. It doesn't matter, he is stunned. Amazed even. Ripping his eyes away from what might be the most beautiful thing he has possibly ever seen, he looks down at the alchemist, making a mental note to get either one of the kobolds to clean up the vile substance just expelled from the creature's mouth at some later time.

"Tell me," he said, his voice too stunned to add its usual layer of disdain. "Tell me exactly what you did exactly when you did it."

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine raises an eyebrow at the sight of the man, riding up to the tower. Realizing it could be potentially interesting, he pours himself a glass of wine, and walks over to the old man. "It seems we have a visitor."
With that, he waits on the stairs by the entrance to the tower, watching from above.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

This was not going where he wanted it to. Being asked to leave the castle at this critical time before the tournament could prove to be a disaster. Not to mention if that bastard elf was going, he would be able to further investigate his claims with no risk of detection. The ride would take him far away from his network of contacts. He would have to choose his words carefully...

"My Lord, if it pleases you I would prefer to stay here at the castle. Lady Wynnifrith will be well protected in the hands of the Sister and the Elf. I have much work to do here, with all these visiting knights, some of them less than honorable causing trouble in town. I am working day and night to keep everything running smoothly."

He pauses and licks his lips rather nervously "Of course, the final decision is up to you."

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel grinned her good cheer, and confidently cocked her head. She wagged a finger at the first man. “Now, now. Lord Grayen wants me to encourage his knights; not exhaust them!”

To the elderly knight, she blinked in a doe-eyed manner, and paused. The minstrel twirled her hand in an innocuous manner, as though doing it out of habit whilst she considered the question. Then, her hand stopped, and she flicked a finger at his forearm. A neatly tied blue bow was wrapped around it.

“Why, only on the arms of handsome knights, of course.” She winked.




Doing lots of different actions:

1. Casting Silent Image (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/silentimage.htm) on Sir Graymond's arm (while using Conceal Spellcasting). Create the image of my favour.

Constitution check to try avoid being fatigued: [roll0]

Sleight of Hand check, so no one recognizes me casting: [roll1]

Rolling SoH to use the Conceal Spellcasting (Complete Scoundrel, page 85) skill trick. I want it to be a surprise when my favour just appears on his arm, but (supposedly) without anything done by me.

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Morgan has been silently watching the goings on and decided she wasn't going to interfere. Let them handle their own problems, she's a good performer, and she can give me courage when I need it. She even ignored some of the things happening and ate her food silently, but what she saw when she looked up stunned her, did a bow just appear around Lord Graymont's arm? Stunned, she looked around for the possible reason it could be there, but she found nothing that could possibly have made this. Morgan shook her head and started on her food again. Shaking the thought off her, Morgan makes out the ribbon isn't real, but can't figure out where it came from.

Sense motive to disbelieve concealed casting, and will save to disbelieve the illusion.
[roll0] Fail...
[roll1] Fail?

I'll continue writing when I get the results... :smalleek:

[gdiddy]

Morgan,

You didn't interact with it or really examine it.

[Lubirio]

Well, I'm at the same table, and Rachel can't be standing too far off, as she was just talking to two men standing right behind me, so I think I did, but if not, part of my action would be to interact with it. :smalltongue:

[DamienAWright]

Orland stops at the signpost for a moment, looking up without much feeling. He wonders briefly at this to himself before casting aside the useless musing and proceeding on. He pulls the hood of his cloak over his head and searches for an out of the way inn.

[gdiddy]

Eleazar,

You too, after several breaths, uncontrollably expel a black tar from your lungs. It burns quite a bit on its way up. You notice a disturbing reddish hue to the liquid that came from you.

You take 4 acid damage and are fatigued from breathing in the scary black smoke. Also, you get 50 XP and learn a valuable lesson about lab safety.

Mathusis watched your revulsion at the black liquid and has already brought over a rag and begun wordlessly cleans up the puddles of black and red humor, regardless of its source, whether human or kobold.

Halix shows you "your" manuscript notes and a variety of formulas that went into the concoction. Honestly, it's quite brilliant and would be easy to replicate with Halix's excellent lab notes. The frost has halted its expansion, and maybe receding, but you are not certain. Everything it touched is frozen solid. You may even be able to minimize the smoke effect in the next experiment. Though, the smoke itself may bear its own experiment, perhaps somewhere with better ventilation. One thing is certain: This definitely increases the cost you can receive for your manuscript. You should probably contact the Collegium to renegotiate.

Halix, however, is exhausted and seems quite ill, still. He is slumped over Mathusis' shoulder as Mathusis finishes cleaning. Halix is breathing raggedly, no doubt from the much worse dose of smoke he got. His shiny black scales have noticeably lost their normal luster. Halix whispers incoherently in Mathusis' ear, at which point your other more silvery assistant looks up at you.

"Master Eleazar, Halix the Alchemist is very ill from his service to you. He requests the rest of the day off. Mathusis the Sage will fulfill his functions for you if you grant him this. Though I already give my every effort to your service, I will find new strength within myself, as Halix the Alchemist has. I promise, you will not notice his absence. Please, may he return to our chambers lower in your tower to rest?"

---

Jaine,

Creedmont tower itself is fairly plain. It's made of a white sandstone, with a spiral stair that goes up the center of its five stories, connecting them. On the bottome two floors, the stair is made of stone, the rest are oak.

The bottom floor is a storage area with three guards playing a game of dice among the flour sacks. The second is a type of small hall, with three hearths that lie around the exterior of the tower, that chimney the smoke into the walls of the tower, providing heat in the winter. The next floor is a barracks, with around ten cots and several pells and arming closets. The next floor looks like a redecorated nursery, with four beds, it serves as a sort of guest house, you surmise. You are the only occupant. The top indoor floor is the knight's bedroom. The stairs continue upward to the roof, presumably where another guard sits. You don't envy that poor bastard, the nights are still bitter cold and will be till Midsummer.

If you glance out a window, the man is no longer approaching the tower, but has halted in front of the smithy, looking at a sign.

"What do you mean a visitor? Should I dispatch the guards? Aaron, go look to the door."

His man, Aaron, looks nervously about, and then moves past you to the bottom floor. He opens it and calls out to the man. There is a frightened edge to his voice.

---

Orland,

The last of the sunlight is fleeing behind the horizon. There is no inn in the town that you remember. There is also no wall, which means it wouldn't be outside of decorum to plant a tent in the mud beside the road and sleep there for the night. Though a fire would likely get you run out of town quickly, you could have some of the salted pork and sawdust bread in your bag.

From the tower that was once your father's, you see a man open the door and call to you. His dress is neat but plain. He is only about a hundred feet from you, but his words carry well even in the wind. There is a suspicious edge to his voice.

"Hello there, Sir! Welcome to Creedmont. Are you in need of guest right?"

Definitely read the description of the tower in Jaine's response above.

---

Baltasar and Wynnifrith,

Baltasar. It's truly your decision. I am a soldier. If I want something done, I command it. I would love you at my side. I only worry for my daughter's safety. Now leave us, I must speak with Morgan on this and other matters. If Jackson is found, instruct him to attend the tourney council this evening.

---

Rachel and Morgan,

Rachel, the men resound with applause. Graymont himself is speechless before bursting into a thick laugh. "Grahaha! You, singer, are incorrigible to tease an old man so. The next one, I'd prefer on my lance, however. Would you truly write a song for Sir Graymont? One to make him the favorite of the crowds again?

Everyone continues laughing and talking, except Sir Morgan, who is staring at the riboon. He once touches it, and draws his hand away immediately on finding it insubstantial.

Morgan, it's clear that Rachel has made an illusion of a ribbon appear on Graymont's arm. Perhaps this woman is a wizard of some kind? No one else seems to have noticed.

---

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Upon realizing Rachel made the ribbon, Morgan looked shocked. Who is this woman? Looking more closely at her, Morgan tried to figure out how she did it and was surprised she was the only one who noticed the illusory ribbon. After much thought, Morgan stood up and looked straight at the strange woman. "I believe you can be of use encouraging me in my time of need, and maybe able to disorient my opponent with your music and your stories of valor. What say you?"

I'm trying to deliver a secret message to Rachel, that Morgan knows she made the fake ribbon appear. [roll0]

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine shrugs. "He's but one man. In the unlikely event he's foolish enough to make trouble, I doubt he'd be very troublesome. But I could fetch my blade if you'd like."
Unless the man affirms his suggestion, Jaine stays on the stairs and continues to observe.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

"Of course my lord. I will go and prepare the men. My Lord, my ladies enjoy the rest of your lunch"

He drops into a sweeping bow before backing away from Grayan, only when he was at the appropiate distance did he straighten up and turn his back to the man.

Making his way to the barracks he begins to select 8 men for the task given to him. He picks them based on both their prowess in arms and as far as he knows their commitment to chivalry. He purposely avoids picking womanizers and drunkards. Lining them up he gives them their orders.

"Men, tomorrow you will ride from Farhold to the north to meet up with and escort Jaine Stone a royal messenger from the King. The message is of vital importance to Lord Grayan. Accompanying you will be the Lord's daughter Lady Wynnifrith who will serve as your leader and the official ambassador of the court. He lets his eyes rove across the men, staring each one in the eye as he goes. "If, I receive any reports that any of you have made an inappropiate advance towards the Lady or have insulted her honor in anyway...I do not even need to remind you of the consequences"

He stares down the assembled knights once again and then gives a little nod above their heads to no one in particular. Let them think that a spy was amongst their ranks ready to rat the others out at a moment's notice.

"So your orders are thus to meet up with Stone and bring him here with all due haste and without delay. Do not dally. Your first priority is the safety of Lady Wynnifrith, your second is the delivery of the message to Lord Grayan, your third is the safety of Jaine Stone." Oh, how he wished he could just make the bastard disappear, they were a troublesome lot and always tried to claim legitamacy during crises...better to just get rid of them. Though, that might have already be done by the bandits "If you find Stone dead, hopefully his body still holds the letter for you to retrieve and bring back. If his killers have taken it, track them down and retrieve it. That is all, any questions?"

[DamienAWright]

"Your welcome pleases me!" Orland shouts somewhat flatly and insincerely to the guard. "And a guest right would be helpful, unless dusty campers at your doorstep offend you not."

Orland strokes the neck of his lead horse, a chestnut palfrey, with a gloved hand and laughs softly to himself, a laugh sounding more like a low cough.

[caleyndryn]

The horrible burning in Eleazar's lungs was invigorating. Eleazar takes a moment to savor the horrifying feeling of pain, the gagging feeling of hacking up some of his own lifesblood...the moment was amazing to him, it was the feeling of existence and more importantly, it was the feeling of gaining knowledge. Of course, he would never do it again, but now he knows not to and that is everything.

Looking down at Halix, it is clear that the kobold does not share his burning passion for experience. Taking a deep sigh (maybe not too deep, geez that stuff hurts.) he nods at Mathusis. "Yes, Halix has done much for us today, and may take the rest of the day off to rest."

[Zerkai]

After they ate and spent many hours searching across the city, Thomus decided to buy the house that had belonged to the now deceased midwife. He had accepted his elven companion's apology, but decided not to ask why she needed 50 gold pieces. After making the necessary arrangements and payment to receive the deed to the house, he sat outside of his new house, his thoughts drifted briefly to the upcoming tournament.

He wondered whether or not he should attend as he pulled out a finely crafted panpipe from his bag, elegant and intricate engravings covering the instrument. His thoughts ceased as he placed the panpipe over his lips, eyes closed as he started to play an elven melody.

Perform: Wind Instrument [roll0]

+4 bonus from Charisma, 7 ranks, and +2 Masterwork bonus

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel curtsied again at the applause, pleased. But her voice assumed a faux insulted tone when she responded, “First you ask a singer to write a song, and then request it make a beloved man the favoured of the crowds. Yet, somehow, I'm the tease?” She arched a brow and tsked at Graymont. “Just for that, you'll discover my decision only on the day.

“But I should say, Sir Morgan, I'm honoured.” Rachel smiled at the preceptive knight. “I could do all of those things. Not to any dishonourable extent, of course. Though, you may be asking for a symphony when I offered a song. Remember that a musician isn't much without her muse. What might you do to inspire me?”

She peered at him curiously, sparing but a glance to one of the windows, judging when the official meeting about the jousting might begin.

Bluff to lie: [roll0]

I would so do 'dishonourable' stuff....if I had a good reason to. I just don't want anyone thinking I'm a likely suspect. Hence, lying in front of a group of knights, even if most of them are talking with each other/distracted.

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Looking back at the musician unhindered, Morgan smiled warmly and responded in kind, "I shall ask for you when you are needed, and will pay generously. Do you think that sounds reasonable?" After finishing her nigh required response, Morgan looks at the bard warningly, before sitting back down and engaging in a conversation with one if her fellow knights sitting next to her, looking back at the bard occasionally.

Sense Motive to disbelieve. [roll0]

Morgan is not to be meddled with, petty bard. :smallamused:

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel wondered at the look the knight offered right after trying to secure a deal with her, but guessed he had seen through her offhand lie. She wondered if anything escaped his rich, dark eyes. The consideration took a breather while the brunette settled on being more forthcoming – or not.

“Hmm, maybe.” She said airily. “By all means, call for me when you need me near, and I should come quickly. As for your generosity...we'll discuss the thrust of it later. For now, all eyes on the tournament.”


Lubirio:
Sorry for taking forever to respond. For some reason I'm in one of those moods where everything I do seems wrong...I kept deleting and retyping this stuff. Anyway, again, sorry for the wait.

gdiddy:
Assuming no argument is offered, I'll say goodbye to the group. From here, I'd like to head to the tourney meeting, if it's happening soon. If not, I'll...hmm. Head to the library. If there is a library open to the staff. Gotta go read up on...stuff.

[gdiddy]

Jaine,

No sooner do you say this than Aaron gets his response and begins having the man's 4 horses paddocked in the same stables your horse is in, around twenty feet from the tower.

The man walks in, looks up at you, and stares. He is not very tall, but broadly built. You definitely tower over him, but there is a strength in his gate and demeanor. His armor is that of a poor knight or rich freerider.

---


Baltasar,

The Grayen men slightly outnumber the hedge knights and freeriders that have taken residence in the barracks. The riding party reflects this. One of the freeriders does approach you to ask about payment.

---


Orland,

As the guards tend to your horses, the man who called you in supervises. He is clean-shaven and handsome, of a height with you. He is aloof, but is also giving you the wall as you enter the tower.

"We've not that much to offer in the way of fair, Sir, except for mead and a marrow stew. Spices grow scarce, but we have salt, if you wish it."

As you enter the tower, it is quite the same as when you left it for father's trial.

A tall man stands on the stairs. You've seen him before, once in the capital and his visage is on the back of every coin in your bag. But no. This is not Lionel Asteros. A cousin or nephew you've never heard of? His bastard, most ?

---


Eleazar,

200 XP, for acting like a human being toward your employees and for being so damn crazy.

"Oh, Master Eleazar, Mother bless you with her Cloaca. We are the luckiest students in the world."

Mathusis limps off with Halix on his shoulder, and shuts the door behind himself. The smoke has all but dissipated.

---


Thomus,

The music is haunting and draws a crowd outside your door. Your neighbors leave their homes to listen to you. Resia puts out a silken cloth in front of you, smiling at your performance. Clink, clink, clink, coins hit the cloth and find brothers. A pile of coppers and silver begins to build on the cloth.

This goes on for an hour and it looks as if you've produced about 2 gold all told. Resia dances periodically, keeping the crowd at a distance from the gold and you.

One man approaches the cloth and takes a handful of silvers.


---


Morgan,

As the bard leaves, the conversation continues. Just as Henriette is brought up, you are rescued by Wynnifirth's entrance.

---


Rachel,

The meeting is not till after supper and most of the castle is still lunching. As Lord Grayen likes to plan at night, after the events of supper are over. There is a library in the Tower of Stars. It's run by Eleazar Bygod, Grayen's resident magus. You haven't seen him downstairs for meals today and he might have a kinder demeanor than normal if you bring him food.

---


Wynnifrith,

Your mother excuses herself to go check on the kitchens and supper. She kisses you on the head as she floats by. Alcohol is on her breath.

As you prepare for your ride with your father and Sir Morgan, you remember to wear a pair of riding britches under your skirts. To ride open-legged would of course be scandalous, but with the tourney, the area around Farhold is filled with less-than-honest men. Getting away is worth any lost face.

You find Morgan in the great hall, laughing among the knights. Several of them see you, and elbow each other.

---

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Troublesome, landless fool runs through his head. This man's lord is giving him room and board and he requests payment too? He was mostly likely a pigheaded type and no fair and reasonable argument would convince him of what an honor it was to be chosen for this task. The only thing that would motivate him was cold, hard gold...and fortunately, Baltasar knew plenty about gold lust, not as much as a Dwarf perhaps, but, he knew more than enough to get by.

"Of course all your expenses will be paid for by Lord Grayan himself. As for additional payment," He scratches at his face in thought "I can see of two possible solutions. Upon the completion of your mission we can arrange for you and your fellows to be paid. Or, you can be allowed to keep whatever you take from the bandits and goblins you vanquish along the road. I must remind you though if you accept payment form Lord Grayan any treasures, not matter how substanial found along the way will belong to the Lord himself."

Baltasar doubted there would be any great loot found along the way, bandits and goblins were smarter than attacking such a band of knights nor would Lady Wynn err from her task and go off seeking battle. He did not however doubt the man's lust for gold and the mention of a much greater but more risky reward would most likely be too great to pass up for the pigheaded fool. Baltasar would known enough to take the payment plan...then again not everyone was the Ghislain boy and thank Lon for that, not even he himself would want to compete in a world inhabitated by people just like him.

[DamienAWright]

"Save your "Sir"s for someone prettier." Orland passes the man leading his horses away, realizing the gruff tone he took with the man and regretting it almost as fast. "Mead and stew are better fare than dust and shadows, friend." He tries his best comforting tone with the clean-shaven man to set him at ease, something he isn't used to. "I'll take any you're not cleaning gutters or tarring roofs with." He claps the man on the shoulder, and a small cloud of dust puffs from the impact of his glove.

Walking past the man casually, he looks up at the other man standing on the stairs with a neutral gaze.

"How's the view?" Awkwardly, it seems like one of those moments where most would be smiling at their own humor to cheer the mood, and the fact that Orland is not is at least somewhat noticeable.

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar flinches a little as the two creatures skitter away. This isn't to say that all gods, in one way or another aren't some sort of food to feed an idle mind, a petty distraction to keep from worthwhile endeavors, however there is something about worshiping the digestive cavity of some horrific mother beast that makes Eleazar's skin crawl.

Dusting off his hands, he enters the lab, fully prepared to inspect exactly what has happened now that the smoke has cleared. There is work to be done! And a little injured kobold is not going to put a halt on anything.

[Gorgondantess]

The man at the top of the stairs, while bearing an obvious resemblance to Lionel Asteros, is not so similar in the end. His drawn features, build and ears point to some elven heritage.
He's tall and lean, with a well sculpted, pale body- muscular and graceful looking- and he wears loose, relaxed silks, obviously of fine make, but not at all ornate: more for comfort than anything. His pretty face carries a constant roguish, mischievous look, and disheveled hair and clothes only add to his charm. He carries a roguish grin on his face and tosses about a half full wine glass in his hands, smirking down at you.
"Not too pretty. If you're just here to sleep, I think I'll retire to my chambers." With that, he downs the rest of the glass, and heads off.

[DamienAWright]

Orland shrugs and walks off in the direction of alcohol and a hot meal.

[gdiddy]

Baltasar,

That's ingenious. 250 XP.

The man evaluates this a with a smile and says Does that mean we can hunt on the Lord's land if some deer pose us a danger?

He pauses. He may have expected a laugh.

"Just kidding, I get your meaning, Sir. We'll keep the girl and the Asteros bastard safe. I just wanted to be sure I wouldn't be feeding my horses out of pocket for this honor. Like you said, we'll leave on the morrow and the tourney won't start without us.

---


Orland.

As the tall fellow with Asteros looks continues up higher on the stairs, you stop on the second floor. It has several tables and a dozen benches, but only one is occupied, and only by one man. He is sitting in a chair facing you. His dress speak of money, most like he was the second son of a rich family. His leg speaks of being too slow or stupid, most like from trying to ride down some Arman halberdier. But these are only tits on a bull presumptions.

Good evening and welcome to my town. I'd help you with the food in the hearth, but I'm afraid moving is difficult in my age and condition. Help yourself, or if you prefer service, wait for my man, Aaron, to return. I'm afraid I ate with our other guest, the sullen demeanor'd Bastard of good king Lionel. Does your company go beyond drinking my booze and nodding?

You get the feeling that he's rather lonely. He eyes your armor carefully.

Do I know you? I feel as if I must.


---


Eleazar,

Most of the frost fingers have receded, but several vials and objects on the table are still frozen solid. The frosting does not seem to be that great an accomplishment. That is, until you notice one finger crept up a series of glass tubes and froze a 20 gallon water storage tank solid. There is still some light wisps of black emanating from the bowl and snaking out the lab door toward the window. You know better than to touch any of the direct reactives or the bowl until the reaction is complete. Looking over the notes, you take account of Halix's supplies. You could recreate the reaction perhaps four more times at the scale he was working at. Considering the quantity of smoke and size of the frost spread, half size might be more prudent in the future.

---


Jaine,

Back in the guest room, your bed greats you nicely. The mattress is merely a canvas bad stuffed with wool, but it's welcome. Lying down awakens several pains you have from sleeping on the ground last night. Let it never be said otherwise: your bastard ass was made for feather beds.

---

[Gorgondantess]

Damn straight it was. Jaine makes himself comfortable, and gets to some good (semi) drunken sleep.

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel considered her options as she strolled away, still in the great hall. Her heavy backpack was readjusted as she stopped mid-stride. She could easily swing around and see about tearing some of the knight's own meal off of them. That, however, she decided, lacked the appeal of speaking to new people for the day. She headed towards the kitchen.

“Hello?” She echoed her voice. “Anyone around?”

[caleyndryn]

"Fantastic!" Eleazar exclaims to himself. It's time like these that makes his work in this place worthwhile. A real breakthrough! He fixes his eyes on the reaction, watching the last bits of it finish itself, committing it to memory.

[Zerkai]

Thomus scowled, the enjoyment of performing quickly faded as he noticed the man taking some silvers. He stood up, keeping his panpipe in his left hand as he pulled his whip out from the fastening on his whip

Surprise Round, spend a move action to draw my whip
Initiative: [roll0]

[Ormagoden]

Wynnifrith enters the hall all filled with smiles; sparkles flashing at the edges of her eyes as she steps towards the crowd of men around the table. She is dressed in a bold and layered red velvet riding dress that was tightened with red silk ribbons to accentuate her Blossoming womanly features.

"Good Sirs and protectors of the realm excuse my interruption of your meal."

As some of the men make efforts to stand an honor her she waves a hand and smiles.

"You do me such honor to stand at my presence but please enjoy your meals."

Quickly she focuses her attention on Sir Morgan.

"Ah Sir Thomason, it is here that I have found you. Lord Grayen has sent me to collect you for our afternoon ride. Would you do me the honor of escorting me to the stables?"

With her words Wynnifrith curtsies gently hands covered in white riding gloves tugging at the hip of her dress. The red ribbons tucked away and tied in her hair jostled slightly as she swayed and stepped back so Morgan could rise.

Not far behind Wynnifrith was one of her father's squires. He was often in Wynnifrith's company where she went at her father's insistence. Most of the time he was armed carrying an axe, shield, and rapier. He also usually had a large pack with him although today he was without it. Instead all his normal armaments were packed tightly in a simple cloth sack slung over his shoulder. Of his possessions the rapier seemed out of station for the boy. It's silver hilt and pommel glinted in the light and it's hand guard was of exquisite craftsmanship. More than likely it was a gift from the lord or perhaps the boy's noble father. He was dressed in household colors but bore Lord Grayen's personal mark on his tunic. He had his head bowed as Wynnifrith spoke with Sir Thomason his brown mop of hair covering his eyes.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Baltasar gives a grin and a slight laugh, presumably at the mans joke. Though of course the joke was really on the freerider who would likely come home with a bucket of rocks worth of loot for his trouble.

"Well then, good luck to you all."

With that the spymaster was gone back to his personal chambers and some letter writing to reflect the new tasks set before him.

The first letter would be to his brother, written in the usual code:

Dear Brother,

A contact of mine has inquired about the purchase of a strange and unusual object, an aboleth's heart, a giant and dangerous beast of the sea. Truly I have little knowledge of obtaining such a thing and doubt that it can be found in the open market, but, he has promised to pay well and that is what matters.

Please begin inquiring forthwith if one of these hearts can be obtained through trade. If not, please post listings for the commissioning of a band of adventurers to obtain a heart for us.

Your Brother,

BG


Sealing it, he moves on to his next letter to the Dwarf:

Dear Dwarf Friend,

A contact of mine inquired about purchasing a highly unusual object, an aboleth heart, a dangerous creature from the deepest realms of the sea. I doubt any of the human merchants(and have even less faith in the elves) that they can obtain this for me. I do believe however that the merchants of the Dwarven underkingdom are more likely to have this item. Money is not an option here and my client is willing to pay whatever it takes.

If you can not find this heart for sale in any of the markets of Dwarves please inquire into commissioning a band of adventurers to seek out an Aboleth and obtain it's heart.

Your Friend.


Finishing the letters, it was now time to forge a notice of intent for his friend with the hooker habit. While he could just march a train of hookers through the front gate as himself it would hardly be proper. He would therefore need a disguise and a letter and seal from a "knight" on why a common servant was trying to bring in ladies of ill repute.

He drafts a short note basically saying that this man represents the "Right, honorable sir Wallace Cormack and send to obtain some merchandise for the knight's enjoyment." Affixing it with a fake seal it was ready for the night's activities.

Forgery Roll:

[roll0]


Leaving his room with the first two letters, he grabs a servant boy and stuffs 4 silver in his hand "Bring these letters to a man and a Dwarf." He gives directions on where to find each, and a description of both. "Do not open them and make sure to get them delivered immediately."

[Lubirio]

Morgan

At the sight of lady Wynnifrith, Morgan attempted to stand, but like most other knights didn't succeed before she told them not to. Upon being spoken to, Morgan didn't look directly at her but instead looked at the boy and was struck by the beauty of the rapier. As Wynnifrith finished her curtsy, Morgan stood up and bowed once, low enough that most knights could barely reach, what with their dexterity and all. As she stood straight again, Morgan stepped away from the table and gently took lady wynnifrith's hand to lead her to the stables.

"I would be honored to present myself as your escort, my lady."

Smiling smugly as the other knight looked at them, Morgan began to lead them to the stables, keeping her pace perfectly synonymous with lady Wynnifrith's.

[gdiddy]

Jaine is asleep and now running on Orland time.

---

Rachel,

A kitchen boy that you know quite well pops up from behind a counter. He smiles sheepishly, and has never been less than 4 feet from your person. He is currently gutting a pile of decapitated and featherless chickens. He is sitting and sweating on a crate of gourds. On the low butcher block in front of him is several piles of meats, organs, and innards.

---

Eleazar,

The last of the smoke boils away, you realize it was a vapor. All that is left in the bowl is a cracked red and black powder, devoid of moisture.

Roll Knowledge: Arcana.

---

Thomus

"And what would you be doing with that cow cutter? S'just a toll for making all that racket in my neighborhood."

He pulls back his cloak, revealing a short sword. He then proceeds to pick through, taking any silvers he finds, politely leaving your coppers.

A Knowledge Local roll you could make in your sleep tells you its a landlord that owns the block of houses and shops against the castle wall, two streets away from your home. He is a thug and thorough tough bastard. You also won initiative against him and Resia. Act freely.

---


Wynnifrith and Morgan,

There is not one raised eyebrow as you leave the great hall.

Both of you, Roll listen.

You both come to the stables as Lord Grayen is feeding and brushing his new, nameless black stallion. He looks at the two of you and raises a finger to his lips. He is dressed in dark brown riding suedes and a white velvet surcoat over his body. He is certainly dressed for the winter.

Wynnifrith, your father is gentle when dealing with horses, you, and with your mother. This shows as he whispers and strokes the animal.

Morgan, the horse tries to take a bite out of you as you make your way past his paddock toward your own riding horse. Roll Handle Animal

---


Baltasar,

You're buzzing and fastidious execution of your duties has left you with some free time. As you sit down, you look at the empty bottle of brandy at your desk, Elven. Alien. Dangerous.

---


Ferenc Tiernan

The snow crunches under your horse's feet satisfyingly. Somewhere, high above you, you hear a hawk decrying the horrible food options available with a piercing "KA-KRAAAW." There are no trees in sight as you leave your lands for Grayen territory. Yesterday, you saw the last mountain you will encounter for weeks.

You and your men are making your own path through a fallow field on your way toward the Horn Road. Your own hall, a mountain fortress that is in several famous songs, is mostly abandoned and closed off. With the death of your Aunt two autumns past, you are the last of your line, except your father's two younger brothers and his older sister's son, your squire.

You're snapped out of your musing by the Sir Reiner. Your Serene Highness?

---

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Baltasar growled and gritted his teeth after catching sight of the bottle again. Idly twirling the bottle in his hand he began to plot his revenge against the pansy elf. He would be leaving tomorrow with Lady Wynn to escort her to meet with the bastard of Asteros. That would be the best time to strike, when no one would be in his room.

All Baltasar needed to find was something in the room to implicate the Elf and his crimes against court and lord. And, if there was nothing that would expose the Elf as a spy then he would just have to create some evidence that the Elf served as a spy. He had done it before and he would almost certainly do it again, it was just part of his job.

Snapping to his feet he strode with strong and purposeful steps back to the armory looking for the officer in command of guards of the castle. He would have to get the schedules of the guards who would be passing by Mercurio's chambers the next night. Of course he could not just ask about the guards in that particular section, he would need to inquire about all the guard shifts to make sure they are up to par for the extra guests currently straining the castle's inner workings.

[DamienAWright]

"Perhaps." Orland begins helping himself to the available fare, clearly familiar with where to find it. "World's a small place." He fills a tankard with mead and lifts it in a gesture to the crippled man. "To your health."

He takes a gulp and wipes his bearded face with the edge of a glove, then sits in a chair across from the man. He places the drink and food on the table and begins setting his small bags beside his seat, setting down the long leather case containing an old flute with particular care.

[Alsc]

Ferenc Tiernan

The prince set a comfortable pace through the late frost, unconsciously cushioned by his small retinue, his squire never far, his knights always close. Each wore Tiernan-burgundy, the dye all the richer against the snow, save for the fool who wore his motley on a cape. On the prince’s surcoat and on his shield, rose the argent dragon of his house.

Dimly, Ferenc missed his great mountains. Dimmer still he wished the farrow field good harvest in the coming year. But these were all faint, nebulous thoughts against the golden knowledge that he now rode back to Grayen court. The princeling was, after all, a court creature. His steward and his uncles could handily manage the Tiernan lands, freeing him lose himself in the pageantry and politics of another court. And a tourney. He did enjoy a good tourney.

A voice drew him from his thoughts and he turned to see one if the Iasan twins. Another man might have been given pause, but Ferenc knew well the subtleties of his retainers and knew the speaker at once to be the younger of the pair: Reiner. “Yes, Reiner?”

[Zerkai]

Thomus Belmont

He noticed the short sword on the man, a little more irritated as he continued to take the silver from the pile. "I would protect what's mine, <waste/garbage>." he added in Elven, as he lashed out at the man with his whip


I attack the land lord with my whip
Attack roll: [roll0]
Damage Roll(If it hits): [roll1]

[Alsc]

Spot check: [roll0]

Hope I did it right.

[gdiddy]

Baltasar,

There are several guards that patrol the halls over the course of the night, but most every stationed guard is posted near the entrances to the Lord’s Tower and the Tower of Stars. Haven’s Point, the forward keep and Mercucio’s residence has several stationed guards, but none on the Elf’s floor.


---

Orland,

Sir Kale laughs. “Yes. And to yours...”

He stares at you, still puzzled. He then snaps himself out of it and looks at the wooden case that you hold such reverence for.

“You seem like a fellow that masters what he attempts. If it would please you, I’d like to hear some music. You rebuked Aaron for calling you a knight. What is your place in this world, then? The most well-armored musician in the Kinglands?”

---

Ferenc,

The field gives way to less even terrain. The land about you is rolling slightly. There are several barrows and hills that make you take a longer path than you otherwise would to avoid driving your horses over them. You have no extra mounts and the risk of a broken ankle is too much. These are also the mounts you and yours will joust upon.

“There’s a queer air about this place, Highness. I like it not at all.”

Wahl laughs “Perhaps we should trade with the Grayens more. We’d have a real road between us and them.”

As he says this, a very large javelin lands about four yards in front of you. You hear a bellow in front of you. “SURRENDER!” The creature that made it is far off and sloped on a hillside. It is grabbing another javelin.

---

Thomus,
The man’s clothing and flesh along his arm is split open by the whip. A small shower of blood and coins drop onto Resia’s kerchief.

“You’re going to pay for-”

He’s interrupted by 120 pounds of elf kicking him the stomach. Resia then draws her scimitar with a flourish and interposes herself in front of you.
He draws his tiny, ugly sword and his mind lost to reason, he swings deftly at Resia. His hit is caught in a cloth that conceals her shield. A dull clang is heard.

The crowd draws back and you hear a woman screams "Someone call the guards! The Elves are attacking Farhold!"

[Alsc]

Ferenc

“Missing Enthria’s mountains already, Reiner? Proper mountains?” Ferenc nodded to the low hills, a grin flashing across his features. Plainly eager to be at court, his good mood reigned. Yet, his grey eyes sharpened and he turned them to the snowscape. Reiner was no worrywart (that was Ostker’s prerogative) so his words held double weight. A quick glance revealed a quiet world of ice and soft blue shadow, typical of early spring. Beneath him the white destrier, Fiachra, snorted softly and blinked away a fly.

Sir Ostker seemed similarly unperturbed, as did the fool and Cael. Even Reiner’s own twin seemed at ease and, as Fer shot a last questioning glance at his brother, made a light quip about the road to break the wary tension.

“Perhaps,” laughed Ferenc, glad for the change of mood. He would have continued speaking in lighter tones had the thudding impact of a javelin not interrupted him as the spear buried itself in a spray of snow.

(One would have thought that with six men and six horses, and two-dozen eyes between the lot of them, they could have see it coming.)

Fer’s head shot up, his laughter gone. Smoothly he hefted his shield from his saddle and onto his arm, dragon blazon flashing as he directed it towards the distant figure. “Advance and declare yourselves!” he roared. Yourselves, he assumed the plural. His fair face heated with an ice-hot rush, insulted and exhilarated by the ambush, yet he deduced through it that only a mad man would dare attack mounted knights alone. "Know that you attack Ferenc of Enthria!” Again he caught the light with his dragon shield and a cold edge, so different from his usual glad manner, crept through his voice.

He didn’t even address the demand for surrender. As if he would, as if he could. He spared no words for his retinue either, but for different reasons. They knew their work, perhaps even better than he did in the case of Sir Ostker. With fresh purpose he scanned the snowscape anew. Hilly, but they have taken the flatter path for the sake of their horses and sacrificed speed for it. With luck, that would pay off now. Otherwise Cael was a sharp squire and would know to hold and protect the horses should they need to dismount. The fool would help him, his tongue was not the only thing that could cut.

He hated it when Reiner was right. The man could gloat for weeks.


Whoo…. My second combat ever. Hit me if I mess up somewhere. Making rolls in order of importance. If I have too many ignore the lower ones.

Total Defense: +4 to AC

Spot check:[roll1d20-1]
Particularly, who is out there and what they wield. Also, the lay of the land and its suitability for mounted combat.

Listen check: [roll1d20-1]
Particularly, if he can hear anyone or thing else.

Intimidate: [roll1d20+5] Possible additional +4 bonus for size category? I can’t find if being mounted changes that at all.

Here’s to better rolls this time…

[Alsc]

I fail at rolling.

Spot check:[roll0]

Listen check: [roll1]

Intimidate: [roll2]

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

“Cutie!” Rachel cried. “How are you? I hope you weren't hiding from me.”

Despite often finding a physical gap between herself and others annoying, the minstrel considered it a small blessing this time. His small hands would have a bloody residue and inner bits on them. But not for the first time, she asked herself if manhandling meat was the finest, or most fitting, choice for his potential.

“Are you my chief for today?” She leaned slightly over the counter, glancing left and right. “I'm peckish, but I'd also like to get something for the librarian.”

[gdiddy]

Ferenc,

Focusing, you see a single figure with another javelin held behind it, ready for a throw. It's shoulders are offset and misshapen. About 100 yards away, as the crow flys, it would take a bit longer to ride around the sometimes rocky barrows.

The javelin in front of you can be seen clearly and is quite large, about the same size as a tourney lance.

"SURRENDER!" He shouts again, unimpressed.

---


Rachel,

He smiles. There is a bruise below his left eye. "I wasn't hiding, Mistress. Just a-absorbed in my work. There's still some bread from breakfast on a sill, drying out for bread crumbs. There's also a root soup from last night that forgot to go out for breakfast. Toss some of these bits in and you have a proper soup. He hefts a pile of umble and feet."

He whispers lowly to you: "I'd give you the livers, but Head Chef gave near half them away to Sir Morgan and his friends. I saw you over there by him. ...you were pretty."

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel listens plainly, nodding at his advice about the soup, trusting him to have good taste. One question hovered in her mind throughout. But it was shadowed briefly by the compliment, and she flashed a quick smile.

“Oh, thank you. I should definitely tell the Head Chief he has such a good assistant. The soup would be great.” Then, her smile faded a little, her concern creasing her tone. “But, I'm a little curious. What's up with...” She trailed off, only to tap under her left eye, as though she might have had a bruise there herself.

[gdiddy]

Rachel,
"Oh, Head Chef caught me in the back room...asleep. I...I deserved it."

He says this somewhat sadly as he dices several of the umbles and feet. He then rinses them in a cold basin and then dumps them in a kettle sitting over a smoldering fire. He bellows the fire and over the course of several minutes, it again reaches a boil. As he moves around he is silent, absorbed in even this simple task. He grabs a simple wooden tray, two pine bowls, and two lead spoons. Laddling in the contents of the hot kettle, he strains out any large chicken parts and returns them to his cutting board.

"Don't tell anyone where you got this. Eleazar isn't to get more food till his lizards return the three sets of tableware he has in his tower."

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Morgan entered the stables with Wynnifrith to lead her to her father, lord Grayen, and as she did so, bowed deeply. After releasing her loose but firm grip, a knight's grip, on lady Wynnifrith's hand, Morgan continued on the find her own mount. On passing the new and unnamed horse of lord Grayen Morgan noticed it trying to take a bite of her and moved closer to it, soothing it and assuring it of her goodwill. She whispered slowly to it, patting its neck reassuringly, hoping this attempt wouldn't fail.

[roll0]
[roll1] If I can though, I'll take 20 on this check.

[gdiddy]

Morgan,

The horse looks at you more calmly and chews his bridle. Lord Jame hisses at the chewing and startles the horse out of the habit.

"Deftly done, Sir Morgan. I thought I might ride him this afternoon, but you may if you wish."

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Morgan looked up, This is the horse the renegade knight was talking about? It must mean a lot to My Lord to have his champ well-equipped. Faking surprise, Morgan said, "I shall love to test ride him, but who will you ride, my lord?" As she says this, she bows once more and enters the stall the horse was standing in slowly, still looking at the horse cautiously. Morgan came to a stop when she stood next to lord Grayen, meaning to emphasize her being smaller than lord Grayen by a lot.

[roll0]

[gdiddy]

Morgan,

I'll ride your horse. I own it, anyway. He grins.

Whatever that Bluff check was for, you failed it and he only rolled a 1.

...I am glad you like him. But your mind is heavy.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

OOC: Where is Baltasar's room in comparison to the forward keep?

Baltasar comments to the man, stating that the current arrangements should be enough for now.

For now Baltasar will take a walk around the forward keep just to reacustom himself to the area and prepare for when he has to make the run in the dark and hidden.

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Morgan smiled slightly as lord Grayen said the horse was his, and looked down in shame as he looked through her feign of surprise with ease. "Sorry my lord, my mind is on other things."

After politely waiting for lord Grayen to leave the stall after bowing for a last time, Morgan mounted the big horse and soothed him again. "Easy, big guy."

Remind me never to try and bluff him again. :smalleek:

[roll0] to have the horse calm during the ride, if I can I'll take 10 on those checks.

[gdiddy]

Baltasar,

The guard nods calmly.

Baltasar's suite is two floors above Mercucio's in Haven's Point.

As you walk through the plain halls, you pass by Mercucio's open door. There is a bright tinny music coming from his room. You recognize it as a traditional piece of Elven classical music called "The Moonlight on the Night of the Rape of Princess Kalena".

He is moving about his room deftly to the music. It has no apparent source from your fleeting glance. Perhaps a musician is in there with him.

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel frowned when the reason was revealed, noting his slight hesitation before offering the reason. She appraised him in that moment. As he soon sets to work, however, she considered his treatment. He appeared competent and focused, even without supervision; a minor indiscretion should never have earned that kind of discipline. Her eyes brightened when he returned.

“Thanks very much.” Rachel pulled the tray closer to her side of the counter, enjoying the aroma of the soup. Her attention then returned to the boy. “I won't utter a word; not when it might harm you. A friend brave enough to take risks is one I wish to keep. My name's Rachel. What's yours sweetie?”

Just in case...

Sense Motive [roll0] about the being asleep thing. There was a slight hesitation.

[gdiddy]

Morgan,

The horse is being difficult, but nonviolent. It's sniffing an apple core on the ground. It keeps on lifting it's hind leg as you climb on, annoying your attempt at mounting him. You do so, soon enough.

Wynnifrith is already mounted beside her father outside.

---


Rachel,

He was obviously lying.

"I'm Jakab. Good bye, Rachel. I'm glad you think me your friend."

---

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Arriving at the place lady Wynnifrith and her father lord Grayen have gathered, Morgan tried her best to control the horse as best she could, while not appearing as if it was easy, for lord Grayen's sake. At seeing the two of them standing there, Morgan waved politely, "Are we all ready to get going my lord, my lady?" Nodding to each of them in turn as she does, Morgan pulled up next to lord Grayen, the combined effect of her large horse and his large posture resulting in the two of them at equal heights. When she noticed this, Morgan slumped a just little to still be below lord Grayen in effective height, but not enough to clearly note she's slouching.

Since I'm now riding it, I shall make ride checks to control the mount, taking ten on all those checks, for a result of 19.

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel hide her immediate thoughts on the matter of his mistreatment. She hoped it were a one-off mistake, and determined that any impression otherwise meant she would gladly show a more vindictive side. Clasping the sides of the tray, she slid it nearer the edge.

“If you ever need a favour,” she said, “or someone to talk to, seek me out. It doesn't matter if I'm doing something or speaking to someone. Even Sir Morgan is more business than pleasure to me; don't think I wouldn't nudge him aside if you wanted to chat.” She smiled. “See you around Jakab.”

She took the tray from the counter, wending her way past tables and people. Her location was for the library and the possibly starving librarian.

[gdiddy]

Morgan,

Want to wait Wynn?

---

Rachel,

You make your way out of the great hall, the second floor of the building between Haven's Point and the Lord's Tower and walk along the halls to the Tower of Stars. You meet two kobolds in the tower. One is wheezing and coughing. They ignore you and continue down past you. You reach the door the Magus Eleazar. The cold iron door smells acrid and burnt.

---

[Lubirio]

That was the plan, yes. :smallwink:

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel twisted her nose in distaste, the acrid smell a sharp divide from the soup's aroma. “What in all of Asteros?” she muttered, wondering momentarily if an accident had occurred. Hands full, she rapped on the door with the tip of her boot, alerting anyone inside that there was someone without.

“Hello? Everyone okay in there?”

The woman waited anxiously for a response, and started counting away thirty seconds. She would put the tray down outside and head in, should no one respond within that time, but the door proof open.

[Alsc]

Ferenc

The second shout for surrender made Ferenc’s frown deepen and drew and angry noise from Reiner. That the figure would continue its demands, knowing his princely name hurt Fer’s pride. He regripped his shield and weighed his options.

A blindman could see they were too far away, and over poor terrain, to charge. He would not risk it. Getting closer was the only option, and so Fer set aside his wounded pride. Mustering an air of affronted dignity (not hard) he called back “Stay your spear, Friend! We have made you no threat!” Truth, raising his shield and declaring his name were no threats.

To his men he spoke shortly. “With me. Defend yourselves.” Nudging Fiachra forward he struck out towards their distant attacker, eyes scanning for level paths. He set a subdued pace, least he alarm the figure, and kept talking. “What reason have you to accost us? We want no violence, my men and I.” So saying, he drew his arms away from his chest in a open, peaceful gesture. He gambled he could bring his shield back quick enough, should he need too. "Stay your spear!”

Rolling again! My best friend...
Total Defense
Diplomacy:
[roll0]

[gdiddy]

Rachel,

Let's wait for Caleyndryn.

---


Ferenc,

Your horse screams as a second javelin sails past you and lands twenty feet wide of you.

The figure starts closing in on you, going up a hill and now coming down.

You realize he was farther away than you initially thought. Your assailant is near 12 feet high. His "misshapen shoulders" are actually two heads, both hooded in leather. One of them is shouting "SURRENDER!" The other is frothing at the mouth. You realize Ettins do not speak Karmen, even if this one possesses enough cunning to threaten and extort bilingually.

Roll Initiative.

---

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Perhaps it was time for some deeper investigation. Entering the doorway of Mercurio's chambers he bangs on the open door. "Mercurio, my apologies for disturbing you. I just wanted to make sure you were made aware of the current goings on regarding Lady Wynnifrith"

He idly peers into the room and looks at the door and its frame subtely checking it for the telltale signs of traps with his trained eye.

search check:

[roll0]

[Alsc]

Initiative:

[roll0]

[gdiddy]

Baltasar,

You're thorough cursory detects absolutely nothing.

"Baltasar, my friend! Come in! How was the brandy?"

---


Ferenc,

The twins, upon seeing the beast charge, bolt forward to meet him. Wahl has drawn a warlance with your banner from his saddle.

Ostkar cries "Watch the clubs!" and is trying to coax his mount up the hill toward the giant.

The Ettin is still running at you, some 80 feet from you.

Cael and Andras are frozen in fear momentarily.

---

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Stepping into the room, Baltasar takes in the layout and commits it to memory so he knows where to search later. "It was strong but quite good. Thank you for it." He says quite sincerely as your pansy elf self tried to poison me ran through his head.

Looking about he tried to ascertain the source of the music before continuing "I just wanted to stop by and let you know in case no one else has that Lady Wynnifrith will be riding out from Farhold to meet with Jaine Stone in the wilderness and escort him back to the castle. Lord Grayan has ordered that you accompany the young Lady as her bodyguard. You shall leave in the morning."

[Alsc]

Ferenc

Ferenc drew his arms in as the figured advanced. Nestling his shield close as he made a comforting clicking noise to his steed as he tightened his grip on the lance he rode with, its butt nestled securely in his stirrup. And then the figure came through the film of distance and frost, and all further thought flew from Ferenc’s mind.

“Find a hill, if you need it,” he clipped, to no one in particular. (Not that any of his men needed reminding or that Sir Ostkar couldn’t ably direct them as he so often did). Then Fer set his heels to Fiachra and he was off.

In a streak of burgundy he charged at the ettin, snow flying, harness and armor raising a silver cacophony in the cold spring air. Purposefully he couched his lance under his arm, be-ribboned tip dipping downwards, deep red streamers fluttering violently in his speed.

“Monster, I’ll take your head!”



Fighting Challenge: 8 rounds. If it works, +1 to to-hit and dmg.
Attack: [roll0]
Spirited Charge: [roll1] x3
Ride check: [roll2] +2 if it’s for staying in the saddle.

Hope I got it right...

[caleyndryn]

The rapping on the door jars Eleazar from his thoughts, dragging him away from coming to a conclusion on the reaction. Could it be that someone has seen the smoke from the towers? He's a fool to think that he would have actually gotten away with that. Perhaps it is Derenik coming in to learn a bit...however he just walks in. Walking from the lab towards his door, he opens it, staring straight out to see...well, nothing. It is only until he looks down to see...

"Oh." Panic races through his heart, but his face remains deadly calm as he takes in this tiny creature's features. Brunette..small features, in every way he notes as his eyes linger on her chest, her eyes...exotic yes, but not his usual preference. Were his favorites not available today? What did Baltasar say in the letter? Baltasar knows his preference of pale red heads, with freckles sprinkled over their cheeks and limbs like cinnamon. This girl is none of that. What is Baltasar thinking, sending the girl to his chambers in the middle of the day with a meeting in only a few short hours?! He gives a quick glance down the hallway and then back at her. Well, best not to waste it, he supposes. "Come in, my lady. Your hands seem to be full and it's best that you put it down."

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel's pulse calmed as someone answered, tilting her head up, and up a bit more. The tall man in the doorway looked at her like a blacksmith might appraise armour. Despite her returning an annoyed glance as he considered her chest, she shifted uneasily under his penetrating eyes. She instantly recognized him a wizard not by his attire, but by his complete lack of social etiquette. Most men restrained themselves to a single polite glance.

“I – put it down?” Her annoyance slipped into confusion. Thoroughly disliking being unbalanced in any social situation, Rachel straightened herself up, and smiled, appearing more poised and confident. “Magus Bygod, my name is Rachel. I'm here to enjoy certain facilities, but before that, I hoped you might care for a meal first. The greatest minds can't run on an empty stomach.”

[caleyndryn]

She used his name, did Baltasar tell her his name? What is going on with whores these days!? He looks at the food, then back at her, shutting the door with an authoritative thunk.. Meals before such things were uncommon for him, but not unheard of, he could kill two birds with one stone before the meeting with little difficulty. "Rachel." He tastes her name in the way one tastes a candy that ends up being too sweet, however he does this with all feminine names, save one. Once again with the names, jumping in before he could name her himself, this one is a bit too feisty, but maybe that's just what he needs? It does get cold up in this big, drafty tower.

"Yes, thank you." The thanks is merely a polite gesture, one that he immediately regrets upon saying because really, he is planning on tipping well, and isn't that thanks enough? "You may make yourself comfortable while I eat."

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel kept herself from jumping at the loud thunk, for fear of spilling hot soup on herself. She couldn't help but glance uncertainly at the closed door, however. Nodding her thanks, a quick glance saw no place to be comfortable at. The area was mostly scrolls and tomes, as she expected. It was made all the more uncomfortable by the now stronger smell of something burnt. She coughed. It occurred to her that he assumed the soup brought solely for him.

“Sir, I had brought two bowls, so we might chat over a meal. It might be nice to get better acquainted.” The performer cleared her throat, disliking the slightly dry feeling the smell was already brining to the back of her throat. “I mean, I'm certain a lot of interesting advancements take place up here,” she offered, by way of starting a conversation. She looked to him expectantly, hoping he might led them to a table away from the precious documents, and hopefully the unpleasant smell.

[DamienAWright]

"Indeed!" Orland laughs. "Better that than some blue-blood fool who thinks he has some high place in the world because he got himself whacked with the flat of a sword and hadn't the savvy to get out of the foggin' way." He takes a deep pull of his mead. "And, as for mastering a tune, I'll just play one for you and see if you change yours when your ears start bleedin'."

Orland takes out his flute and starts to put it to his lips, then hesitates. "Any tunes you like? I'd hate to make a poor first impression."

[caleyndryn]

"Get...acquainted?" Eleazar supposes it couldn't hurt, but what is this whole chatting thing when she could be preparing herself for what is to obviously to come after the meal? It didn't matter, he supposes, might as well give her her fun, but not too much. Next thing she would expect him to kiss her on the mouth or some such things. Preposterous! "I mean, of course. Follow me." Beckoning her with a casual hand, he walks over to the table where he does most of the eating that he doesn't do at his desk. Moving aside the other plates and remnants of past meals, he motions to the seat across from him. "Please, do sit down, forgive my mess, but I'm so often immersed in my studies that I have little time for housekeeping."

Forgive my mess. To a whore. This is why he doesn't bring them back here. He is going to have to have a talk with Baltasar.

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel fought the urge to arch a brow. He sounded surprised at her suggestion of having a conversation with a new acquaintance. She wondered how isolated a hermit he had to be for that to be a foreign concept, but didn't want him to feel awkward by actually asking. The woman smiled as he motioned to the other seat. The tray was set on the table.

“Thanks, and don't worry. Sleeping next to someone new most nights tends to come with a little clutter.” She took one of the lead spoons, scooping some of her soup, blowing on it. “Besides, if I wasn't used to crowds, I wouldn't be able to perform in the first place. It must be nice being alone to your thoughts up here. Let alone being Lord Grayen's respected Magus.” She sipped her soup.

Servant quarters. Hundreds of servants. All sleeping in the same general area.

Blame/compliment gdiddy.

[gdiddy]

Baltasar,

The music is coming from the vicinity his writing desk.

"I am sorry. I forgot how often I drink. It would be harsh on a mortal, I suppose." He smiles. As you explain his mission tomorrow, he becomes more serious.

"I will guard her bed and tend to her needs." He says this with solemnity you are not used to hearing from him.

---


Ferenc,

Your horse rears at the last minute, preventing the lance from making contact. You do not take either of his heads off. Wahl's lance similarly misses and he rides off to the right of the giant. Reiner cuts wildly at the ettin and makes to circle around it. Between his shield and sword's flails, he makes contact in the giant's side. Both mouths bellow in pain. Its lesser head's eyes full of murder, it swings at Reiner. Reiner catches the blow with his shield, reeling from it, but unhurt. Meanwhile, the dominant head has locked on you with its dull eyes. The club hits you across your chest. The breath goes out of you and stars fill your field of vision through your helmet slit.

Ostkar rides his horse around and flanks the giant for you.

You hear your squire screaming behind you "For Kiellett! For Tiernan!"

You take 14 damage. Make a ride check.

---


Orland,

A voice from behind you says "How about The Fall of Dear Allayne?"

It is Aaron, Kale Bomas' serving man.

---

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar gapes at her. Crowds?! He is beginning to feel a little uncomfortable in the best way. He underestimated this one, she is saucy and coy and able to bring up scandalous things in the most casual of settings, and with those curves and that bottom well...the little minx is just gagging for a spanking. Those slender wrists just beg to be shackled, yes...

He is getting ahead of himself. Eleazar licks his lips and nods, forcing himself back into the conversation. "Yes, it is nice to be alone with one's thoughts here, this is an ideal place to pursue one's studies, however, it can also be an incredibly lonely place."

Eleazar is a total pervert.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Baltasar gives a slight bow "of course." Staring at the desk. He continues "May I inquire to the source of the music? I am quite perplexed."

[Alsc]

Ferenc


Ow. ._.

Ride check, added the plus 2 since I assume this is to stay in saddle:

[roll0]

[Ormagoden]

Wynnifrith

She would quietly walk along with Sir Thomason at her side. She was however not forward enough to hold his hand as they walked. Her mother was right and it would be very foolish to lead the man on if she had no intentions or feelings for him.

The walk was quiet and her visage was pristine. Only when she arrived at the stables did she speak.

"Father we are here!"

She said vociferously. Her tone was jubilant and upon spying her mount she immediately ran to it and leaped onto it.

"Let us not linger good sirs!"

Wynnifrith quickly and without hesitation slapped the reigns of her mount and pushed it towards the lord's gate. She was the daughter of the most accomplished rider in the Grayen lands. The keen skill of a horse master was in her blood. She was unashamed and proud to show it despite being a lady of the house. It was incredibly apparent how much she enjoyed riding as she sped off. It was one of the only times she was allowed to leave the keep and see the country side.

She would leave her squire, Sir Thomason, and Lord Grayen quickly and inappropriately behind should they not catch up. In the yard some of the men unaccustomed to seeing Wynnifrith ride might stare slack jawed as she rides by them. An exuberant smile on her face and soft curled hair and ribbons flashing at her head as she rides off a red blur. Her appearance a beautify woven tapestry of skill and elegance.


Listen for earlier (see ooc)
Ride for a quick mount (DC 20)
Ride spurring the horse out the gate (DC 15)

[gdiddy]

Baltasar,

"Of course! My little music box. He goes over to his desk and opens an exquisitely tiny drawer."

He brings a small box, one inch on each side. It is carved out of a tiny white laquered wood. It is incredibly light in his hand and as he places it down by the table in front of his sofa. He gestures for you to sit.

<Stop.> He says this in High Elven. The music halts.

<Play the Whisper of the Morning Dew at a dancing speed in the high human key.> The box immediately begins making music in a springy metallic tone.


---


Ferenc,

You maintain your mount.

You see Cael bring a pike up toward the ettin's chest, only to have it glance off the beast's tough brown skin.

Wahl and Reiner both strike at him before drawing their horses away and preparing for another charge.

You're next on initiative.

---


Wynnifrith,

You heard nothing. You killed the ride checks.

Blowing through the Lord's Gate, you head onto a dirt road through a millet field. You are quite alone.

---


Morgan,

"Well, then, shall we go catch my daughter?"

He start down the road at a walk, knowing you're unsure on your mount and letting you set the pace.

Making you do 900 ride checks seems unfair and tedious, honestly. If you need higher than a 19, I'll give you warning.

---

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Surprised as lady Wynnifrith sped by them at such amazing speed, Morgan decided to make it somewhat enjoyable for the three of them, and responded to lord Grayen politely before urging her mount to trotting speed. Hoping to be able to catch up with the young lady Wynnifrith, Morgan told lord Grayen during midstride, "I think we have a duty to do so, do not you think so my lord?" Saying this with a light smile playing across her face, Morgan sped up some more to however fast she could urge her new great mount to go. Galloping, her hair was blowing in the wind, like it did with jousts, only this time she was on a mount she was unused to.

I guess I'll need a ride check to do spur my mount? DC15, so I'll take 10, unless my special mount makes the DC higher than 19, in which case I'll roll.

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel looked to him sympathetically, and nodded. “It does seem a bit lonely. If you want, I could always come by more often. Say hi, see how you're doing, use the library; things like that.” She blew on another spoonful before continuing enthusiastically, “Or you could just stroll around the castle sometimes. Start a conversation; let people know you're interested in them, let them see how interesting you are. You never know who you might meet.”

The minstrel paused, before adding proudly, “Proof in practice: Sir Morgan and I were actually discussing my giving him encouragement before the tournament. Now, blinding myself to him being the best jouster Lord Grayen has to offer...that's the kind of thing I'd expect his wife to provide. Love conquering all, as the saying goes. Still, he chose me.” She sipped her soup, a wry smirk showing. “You probably don't need magic to divine my answer...”

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Baltasar takes a seat on the couch and eyes the music box admirably, and shockingly upon discovering it is magical rather than a mechanical device. It must have cost a small fortune to purchase and is probably one of a kind.

"Amazing!" He exclaims with genuine excitement and interest in his voice. "How many songs can it play? And can it play them all in different variations?"

He must have this box, not to sell of course despite the thousands of gold it would bring him. This would be just for him, for his own enjoyment and amusement.

[Alsc]

Ferenc

Resolutely pulling air back into his chest, ignoring the painful protest of his lungs, Ferenc wheeled his destrier back to face the giant again. Couching his lance once more he kicked forward, numb to the spray of cold against his legs as Fiachra flew through the snow, taking aim at the giant, hoping this time to take at least one of the two heads as he rode.

Fighting Challenge: 7 rounds. (Did this work? Added it anyway, otherwise -1 from to-hit and dmg)
Attack: [roll0]
(Taking the flanking bonus…)
Spirited Charge: [roll1]x3
Ride check: [roll2] Additional +2 if it’s for staying in the saddle.

I’m assuming he has enough distance to charge again with his ride-by? 10ft? Otherwise I'll repost when I get back later today.

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar did not need magic to divine her answer, however, he arched an eyebrow at the whore's words. How far into this charade of manhood was Morgan going? He would never forget the day he had come face to face with that slattern, snatching those thoughts out of the thing's (Eleazar could only call Morgan a thing, for what else was she? A woman dressed as a man hardly could be called anything but.) head and discovering what was clearly a feminine mind. However, hearing that "Sir" Morgan seemed to be keeping company with whores confused him a bit.

But that was not half as confusing as when Rachel implied that she was going to come back, for the purposes of using the library. He smiles at her, a chilling thing, as cold as his ice blue eyes, and takes a sip of his soup, now finally cooled to a temperature he could enjoy.

"You honor me, sweetling, surely. However this is my place of work." He clears his throat politely, his eyes finally pinning hers for the first time in their conversation. "My mind is best suited for pursuits of the scholarly, they run the avenues of magic...these sort of...visits. They are fleeting, and they never take place here. Surely you have been told this?"

[DamienAWright]

"Well enough, that." He lifts the flute to his lips. "But one've you gents'll be singing or I switch to "99 Goblins on the Wall."

He closes his eyes and begins to play.

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel stiffened at his smile, but passed it off by shifting on her seat, glancing down to the sides of it, as though her chair might be uncomfortable. This ploy had the added bonus of giving her time to avoid and adapt to him gazing into her eyes. After a little adjustment, she returned his gaze evenly.

“I know this isn't a place to socialise,” Rachel responded. “No one needed to tell me that. Think about it, though. You've already said it's lonely up here, right? My popping by could help relieve that. Plus, I'd respect every bit of knowledge the library has to offer, and wouldn't make too much noise.” In a bid of emphasis, she added a saying she once heard a scholar offer in Draconian, “After all, an unchallenged mind is an empty one.”

[gdiddy]

Morgan,

The Lord whoops and spurs his mount along side you and the two of you explode into the afternoon sun, Wynnifrith not far in front of you.

---


Baltasar,

"It is remarkable and has been in my family for many generations. It cannot sing, alas, but makes up for it in flexibility. It can play the melody and chords of any song it has heard and learned. It can further play these songs in whatever key you request. I confess, its operation is complicated to learn, but it's truly a marvelous artifact. I have been told there is a tiny sprite inside that does all this. However, I have never seen it and to open the box is to undo the magic."

---


Ferenc,

The lance hits it square in the chest, below its lesser head. It screams in twin gurgling voices, black blood coming forth from both mouths. The lance rips from your hands as the giant wrenches away from the blow.

You now have his full attention. He swings wildly at you, but your mount smells the giants blood and again rears back, pulling the two of you out of the way. Neither blow connects with you.

Ostkar, meanwhile, seeing the beast struggling with you, catches the ettin between the shoulder blades with a longspear. You see the old knight twist the spear into the giant before losing his spear to its gyrations and drawing his sword.

Cael again tries to strike for the chest and draws some blood from a superficial wound. "Cousin, good gods, run!"

The ettin is flailing madly now and you see fear coming from both of its dull eyes. It looks as if it is about to run, and for a sad moment, it makes to go to either your left or right and both heads seem to struggle in choosing an escape route. This confusion and silent argument is ended when the ettin is pinned by Reiner and Wahl's dual charge on its flanks just as it begins to move. The twins coral the frightened and dangerous giant, unable to hit it, but unhurt themselves.



---


Orland,

The melody is a haunting one. Aaron sings the words, doing them some justice. It starts out high and flighty, a woman Allayne is loved by a king. It then takes a haunting turn, as the man takes great lengths to woo her. Finally, he gives her a choice, either jump from the highest tower of his great citadel or marry him. The song ends with her "making up her mind", but the song itself does not answer the issue of what exactly Allayne makes up her mind about, except in its title.

At the end of the piece, you look up and see tears on Sir Kale's face. Suddenly, he looks very old. It lasts for but a second. He quickly runs his forefinger and thumb down his cheeks and speaks to you with an edge to his voice.

"I...Excuse me. I must sleep now. Good night, stranger who avoids telling me his name and is not a knight. Please tell the guards downstairs to keep the hearths lit when you go to sleep."

He glances both hurt and cruelly at Aaron before supporting his weight on a well-made crutch and making for the stairs.

"I am tired. Aaron, take me to bed."

The two make slowly for the stairs, and Sir Kale is clearly inebriated, even if his speech before did not initially betray it.

---


Jaine, (No longer on Orland time.)

After a pleasant and dreamless night of sleep, you wake up surprisingly refreshed. It is not yet dawn, however. From you're window, you do see that the sun is threatening to start another day.

The tower is silent except for the sound of guards changing shifts on the level below you.That is the advantage of going to sleep so early: solitude. You could be up and on the road by daybreak.

---

[Alsc]

Ferenc

A triumphant shout echoed out from Ferenc and his helm when his attack found home in giant’s flesh, his gladsome noise nearly lost into the creature’s screams. The lance tore free and Fer let it, the shivers of impact still rattling up his plate, his ribs replying with a sharp complaint that he was just now beginning to feel through the battle-fog of sweat and vigor. Yet despite the pain he kept his seat as Fiachra reared, eyes rolling, and pulled them from the flailing clubs. By the time all four hooves came to settle in the snow his longsword was drawn aloft, silver-bright against the sky.

It was unclear whether or not Ferenc heard his squire’s cry, for he made no response, but his choice was obvious when he urged his warhorse forward once more into breach, the distance of his lance’s loss. He had no pity for the ettin in its fear and confusion. He had no pity for any ettin so close to his borderlands. (In his borderlands? ...His uncles would know.) The farrow fields and its farmers could not be far off yet, and the way to Grayen land, however under maintained, had its share of travelers. So Ferenc felt no remorse, no panging demand for fair play, as he searched again for an opening created by Ostkar as he harried the monster from behind. It must be done. It was suppose to be done.

Powerful haunches tensed and Fiachra flew across the snow for the third time, a streak of white and red—the horse and its rider—towards the panicked beast. No streamers flew (those were buried with the lance in the giant’s chest) but the sword whistled as it bit through the air, until the riding pair was upon the creature and Ferenc brought the blade arching down.


Fighting Challenge: 5 rounds left
Attack: [roll0]
Spirited Charge: [roll1]x2


If needed:
Ride check: [roll2] Additional +2 if it’s for staying in the saddle.

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar's smile frays at the edges as a phrase usually reserved for the educated tumbles out of her mouth. To hear such a thing uttered from the mouth of a whore is delicious blasphemy, and Eleazar only finds himself all the more inflamed. His breath hitches as the sight of her squirming in her seat doesn't help him keep his head.

He takes another sip of his soup, his hands are shaking now. The games this wench plays! So subtle and yet so complex, depending on her performance with what's to come he, for one desperate moment considers her offer to return. No more traveling to that inn, no more assumed names...

"You are...incredibly persuasive," he says. "But in the end, I suppose, it depends entirely on today."

[gdiddy]

Ferenc,

Miss. You're also now adjecent and cannot pull back for a charge.

The beast again swings for you, connecting in your left shoulder. The blow is transferred through your armor and body into your body and horse. Fiachra screams and tries to overcompensate for the force of the blow and almost herself falls to the right. You tumble from her and you frightfully see the ground coming up to meet you through your helmet slit.

You take 15 damage. I assume the ride check is to stay the saddle? Reflex to avoid falling damage.


---


Eleazar and Rachel,

You hear the door to Eleazar's office/home/lab open. In the doorway is Derenik, your son Eleazar. Long and spindly like you, he is in his 16th year, and his features are beginning to harden into a man's face. He is being led by the hand by Mathusis the Sage, your Kobold assistant.

Benificent master, Mathusis the Sage has found another student for you!

Hi, father. Mathusis told me what happened to Halix and I'm sorry. I want to help, though. He sees the girl dining with you.

Hi, Rachel!


---

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar's eyes go wide as he looks up at his son. "I'm WORKING." He snaps quickly, clenching his fists. It is only after he says this that he realizes that Derenik, his son, the fruit of his loins, the child he is raising to become better than Eleazar himself could ever be just not only recognized the whore by name, but greeted her in a fashion that implied an easy companionship...almost...a friendship?

Eleazar wants to get up, but the nausea and cramping is already hitting him, his head is beginning to pound, blurring his vision at the edges. He stares at Derenik, unsure of whether or not to be proud of his son or enraged at him. However, the abrupt slamming from one extreme to another...from arousal to horror is making him ill.

"You...know each other?" is all he can manage to get out, after taking it in.

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel grinned. She managed to keep smugness from her tone, instead offering a chipper one. “It's a gift.” Her eyes noted his shaking hand. She glanced to his eyes casually, preferring to hide her discomfort and maintain eye contact, lest she focus on a sign of frailty or illness to his discomfort. “First impressions are important,” she agreed between sips, reminding herself that many documents were likely precious. A wizard worried about a text being mishandled was about as rare as sunshine in a dessert.

“If you have any special rules, I would be fine obliging them. I'm not here to damage anything,” she said earnestly. “But if something should be torn by accident, I wouldn't leave it broken. Watch.”

Rachel glanced around, rose from her seat, and went to the plates the Magus had put aside earlier. It only just struck her that these were probably the tableware Jakab spoke of. She inwardly groaned at dried bits of food clinging to them, but still picked up one, picking it due to the slight cracks it had. The minstrel couldn't guess whether they were recently made, but thought she could make a better impression by showcasing some magical talent, while using it to help a friend avoid trouble when she brought the dishes back down. The plate up was held up for the unsettling librarian to see, holding it with her left hand, and she made a gently opening and closing motion towards the cracks with her right. A single word was uttered to it soothingly. The cracks in the plate mended themselves obediently.

Regardless of feeling drained, Rachel smiled. “Ta-da. Of course, it's only a cantrip, and I would prefer prevention to mending in all circumstances. May I see the library?”



1. Casting Mending on a cracked plate. Constitution check to try avoid being fatigued: [roll0] Come on, not getting tired in front of the wizard! Not for a cantrip. D:

[gdiddy]

Eleazar and Rachel,

Mathusis cowers.

"Of course! She's always around, entertaining us at lunch and supper. I mean, usually in the evening, we all have Thomus for our cockles and Dirkin to tickle our funnybones. Lord Grayen doesn't always like having a woman in front of dignitaries. He doesn't want to seem weak, afterall." He seems confused.

"No, Master's Son Derenik! HE IS IN THE BREEDING MADNESS PLACE."

[Zerkai]

Thomus Belmont

The man sighed, putting away his whip as he heard the panicked woman <Make sure not to kill him Resia, don't want the Guards coming down on us for it.> he told her in Elven, before approaching the crowd. "Everyone just calm down, me and my friend are only taking care of a thief.".

Not sure if this is gonna work, but I may as well use a Diplomacy check to keep the rest of the crowd from panicking or at least turn them to witnesses on our side by making them friendly when the guards come over
Diplomacy check: [roll0]
+4 Ability Modifier, 7 ranks, +4 total synergy for at least 5 ranks in Bluff and Knowledge: Nobility and Royalty

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

“Derenik, heya,” Rachel replies happily, putting the plate down on the dirty pile. She regarded the kobold with uncertainty, not quite sure what he meant, the little sage's meaning lost in translation.

“We were just talking about my performances, among other things.” Rachel's eyes settled intently on the kobold, and effortlessly she switched over to his likely mother tongue, “Sorry, I'm terrible at understanding...accents. What do you mean by your comment?”

Bluff: [roll0]

A lie about the accents thing. This is just to avoid potentially making the kobold feel awkward about not being able to state his point clearly in Karmen, and also excuses why I start speaking Draconian to him.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

"Fascinating." Baltasar rises from his seat and takes the Elve's hand in his own giving it a hearty handshake. "You are truly a lucky fellow to have such a great artifact in your family." The Ghislain family had no such magical marvels to their name, that would all change soon however. The musicbox would soon be his by any means necessary.

"I have already taken too much of your time, you have much to prepare for for your trip tomorrow. Good luck and <may the gods bless you on your journey.>" Baltasar slips into Elvish for the last statement.

[gdiddy]

Thomus

<He has a knife, good but stupid man! Is he worried about hurting us? No one steals from you. This is a resolution I have made today.>

"Look at this pervert, who shares his bed and poisons our streets with his whore. And now she draws steal against an honest homeowner, whose family has been here for six generations."

The man makes to get back to the money, but Resia moves forward on him. This landlord freezes.

Several men in the crowd are arguing loudly. One is shoving another. You see a Kingland hedge knight slap one of Lord Grayen's cattle knights.

"Go back to Lyros, you filth!" screams a man in the crowd. A fist sized stone is thrown at Resia, but it misses.

That's a quickened Diplomacy check, with a -10 penalty. However, some of the crowd is now friendly. The hostile crowd members are pretty solidified, though.


---


Rachel and Eleazar,


<We should not be speaking. I displeases master when his servants speak The Mother's tongue.>

"What's going on? Is Rachel singing for you today, father?" He asks incredulously.

Mathusis switches back to Karmen. "SHE WILL DO NO SUCH THING. Master, I am taking Derenik to teach him about the discovery you have made through Halix the Alchemist." Mathusis shields his face from you as he takes Derenik's hand and goes into the lab.

---


Baltasar,

Thank you. And Lon give you strength in your day, mortal.

You run into a guard in the hallway, half armored, him afixing a boot as he knocks on the door of a knight next door to Mercucio.

"Sir Graymond! To arms! There's a riot in the south housing district."

---

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar stares in utter confusion at his son and his worker. "I...um. sing?!" He turns to look at Rachel, who is now holding a repaired dish that was cracked but moments before. Entertaining... singing...The way she is dressed. It did not take long to come to a conclusion about her true profession.

Dumbstruck, still sick, he leaned over and grabbed the nearest book within reach. "I have to return this tome to its proper place."

With a swish of his dark gray robes, Eleazar flees to nearest stairs, all the while muttering to himself under his breath. "You are an idiot. You are a CHILD. You are an imbecile...stupid. So..so stupid."

[LongVin]

Baltasar


Damn these foreign fools! Have they no respect for the civility of the realm! This tournament would prove to be more trouble than it was worth. Hopefully, his contacts were already within the crowd pinpointing the agitators.

Dashing down the hall he rushes up the stairs to his room first. Barreling into the door at full force he barely has time to slide the key in to the door but somehow manages. He grabs his mithral shirt from its stand knocking it over in the process. Darting out the door he slams it shut, the self locking lock engaging it. One can never be too careful.

Running full speed he struggles with the armor trying to get in place underneath his weapons belt. He charges full speed for the gate and the riot. There would be hell to pay for this interuption to his day.

"Form up on me!" He yells orders to some nearby knights preparing to intervene in the riot "Make haste!"

[gdiddy]

Rachel,

"What was that about?" Derenik asks.

"Your father was to shamefully give this woman money in exchange for filthy warm blood breeding."

"Rachel?" Derenik seems crushed.

---


Eleazar,

The black speckled granite of the staircase echo your words and your loneliness.

---


Baltasar,

Sir Graymond is immediately aside you. "Coming, spymaster? I doubt we'll have any secrets where we're going. Where is Lord Grayen? He should be notified." Most of the knights and guards hold both axes and buckets, for potential fires. From the winding dirt streets that lead from Haven's Point, you all move quickly. Some of the knights are a horse, but these are the minority. The rare man who was in the stables when the call was heard. You notice some of them are foreign knights, who are fulfilling their oaths to protect the innocent regardless of their location. Almost none of the men with you are armored. You feel safe, an armored man is not a preferred target.

OoC: You are now on Thomus time.


---

[LongVin]

Baltasar

"His Lordship is out for an afternoon ride." comes the response as he pushes past peasants and others in the street.

Forcing his way through the streets he pushes to get close to the riot and intervene in before things get too out of hand and there is a fullblown war in the streets.

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Riding alongside lord Grayen, Morgn decided to ask him a question she'd been thinking of for a while now. With the constant thuds of their mount's hooves, Morgan asked cautiously, "Sir, with the upcoming tournament in sight, it had me thinking." Pausing to let this sink in for a short while, she continued, "I'm a skilled fighter, and I probably have a good shot at winning the tournament," Not one to enjoy flattering herself, Morgan quickly continued with the next part, "I have an idea to invest the tournament's winnings on a school, a college I suppose it could be called, devoted to train young squires in the art of jousting in front of an audience. I would probably need some additional investment from your lordship's coffers, of course if my lord would be so kind I would part from a portion of the earnings." Morgan said each word slowly and deliberately, trying as hard as she could to make the deal sound reasonable. "It could start off as a minor training field much like the one we already have, but it would have the potential to grow and obtain interested students from all over the kingdom, making it a possible income to your lordship's lands." Getting really into it now, Morgan used hand motions to enhance her speech and convince lord Grayen of the goodwill of her train of thought, all the while trying to keep control of her rebellious mount with her firm knees. "So, my lord, what say you?"

taking 20 on a diplomacy check, using The Giant's (http://www.giantitp.com/articles/jFppYwv7OUkegKhONNF.html) use for it, making deals, for a result of 23.

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine throws open his window, to greet the crisp morning air and sooth the throbbing hangover in his brow. It was a minor one, but a pain nonetheless. He cherished the solitude his early rise allowed, and the nepenthe a combination of headache, grogginess and chill on his half naked body gave. Indeed, he felt he would not get roaring drunk this morning. Well, maybe just a little drunk.
Breaking his fast on a good sized tankard of ale in one hand and a loaf of hard bread in the other, he stocks up on salted meats and dried berries for the road, gathers his things, then after paying a visit to the stable sets off into the dawn at a brisk gallop, letting the wind soothe him.
It's only until he's a good 10 miles out into the road he reaches for his wineskin, and finds it empty. He quite forgot to stock up on his most important vice.

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel appeared puzzled at the barring of speaking other languages in the library, but outright recoiled, as though struck, at the kobold's reaction to her singing. She had no idea her voice sounded repugnant to the ears of none humans. The woman frowned. Her eyes soon registered further confusion at the librarian's similar reaction to the mere mention of her signing, and then glowered down at the small, scaly sage for what he made of her intentions.

“What? No! I don't know – or care – how you came to that idea, but no. Derenik...no. I don't need to do that. I've more than enough talent to get by otherwise.” Calming slightly, her frown losing it's hold, she added less angrily, “And I'm sure your father isn't like that, either. We really were just talking. I came to use the library, brought some soup, and we had an impromptu lunch first.”

Glancing about the unfamiliar location, she wondered where the Magus had retreated to. “But now...I really think we should see if he's okay. Unless you think he might get more upset if I follow.”

[Alsc]

Ferenc

It occurred to Ferenc, that this was a very bad day.

Ride check for soft fall:

[roll0]

Come on, dice.....

[Zerkai]

Thomus Belmont

"Honest? One who would who in broad daylight in front of a crowd dares to speak of honesty?" Thomus asked, sending a glare in the Man's direction "In the past year I've traveled and spread Lord Grayen's word and declarations as far as this body of mine can journey, performed for him and his court, his Knights. I work for Lord Grayen. I work for every warrior that defends this city, our city. It has become the first place I've known as a home for years and years to come."

He continued his speech, facing the crowd now. "I work for every man, woman and child that will give but a moment of their time to listen. In this time I've spent here, I think it's more then fair to believe I've done more for our city, our people, then a thieving landlord would would no sooner bleed it dry." He pointed to the man as he finished, giving him another glare.


Taking another Diplomacy roll on the crowd, using a full minute now that the fighting has subsided for now

Diplomacy: [roll0].

[DamienAWright]

Orland finds a bed, or something approximating one reasonably enough, and goes to sleep.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

"Out of the way! By order of Lord Grayen we are on official court business!" Shouts the spymaster as he knocks people aside and forces his way through the mass of people lining the street as he fights to get towards the source of the riot with the knights.

[Ormagoden]

Wynnifrith

She smiled out in the sun and field. Urging her mount to slow to a trot so the others could catch up. Tossing her hair she looked back to her father smiling. Having missed their conversation as they trailed behind her she was blissfully ignorant of the business they were speaking of.

"It is a bright and wonderful day for a ride father!"

She brought the horse's reigns onto her lap and her mount now walked alongside her father's opposite Sir Thomason.

[gdiddy]

Dirkin,

There is considerable commotion and shouting a few blocks from you as you collect your performance money.

---


Wynnifrith,

The western road winds through the field toward the stream, an offshoot of the Lyewater. As the two men catch up with you, your horse’s pace is interrupted by the sound of your father yelling. Trained by him, your horse get’s nervous beneath you. His tone is demonstrative and angry.



---


Eleazar,

The library below your lab is an excellent refuge. The dry smell of knowledge on cellulose comforts you as you enter. The stacks and rows of books and codices, the product of House Grayen’s centuries of collection surround you.

---


Morgan,

A moment passes and Lord Grayen stares at you.

“I do not want to discuss this right now, you presumptive woman. Those words today with my daughter was uncalled for. You’re talented and a better knight than half the men under my roof and the best squire I’ve ever had. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but in the future, you’ll not insult me in it. You may get a thrill from playing a man with your maid, but the aberrations you commit to that girl in your bed are your own business. It certainly does not extend to my daughter, the girl you’re sworn under Lon to protect, body, soul, and honor.”

He finishes this last bit at Wynnifrith’s horse comes in line on your other side.

“However, with this sad matter behind us, I would like to discuss tomorrow’s business and the tourney with the both of you.”

---


Jaine,

The road quickly passes beneath your horse. Sober and shaking from detoxification, you come to an inn by a fork in the road an hour before noon. The inn has a stable and several rooms. Importantly, they probably have wine.

One tine dips Southwest more directly toward your destination through the Kingsboro Wood. It could shave a day or more off the trip. The main road continues West and drives directly South deep in Grayen lands.

---


Rachel,

“Eh, go talk to him if you want. I’m going to help Mathusis here. He never listens to me when he get’s like this.”

<I am truly sorry, my lady. I misunderstood your presence and my Master’s behavior. I hope you forgive my horrid accusation. I expect I will understandably be beaten for this and do not regret it. If anyone should speak with the Teacher, it should not be us.>

---


Ferenc,

You take 3 falling damage.

Face down in the snow and mud, the sound of struggle resounds above you. The ettin is screaming. You hear Wahl and his horse scream. Shortly after, you see Cael’s face in the mud beside you. His young and innocent eyes are crying. Reiner and Ostkar are yelling your name. Aside from that, you hear nothing except the ringing in your ears.



---


Thomus,

The crowd halts their personal battles for the time being and listens to you. Resia doesn’t take her eyes off the man, except to smile once at your defense of her. You see several men who were moments ago calling for your blood muttering to their companions. One man in the crowd shouts, “For Tom Highpipes!” And a stone sails at the landlord and strikes him in the temple, dropping him instantly. His partisans answer in return with fists. Half-war and half-brawl, the street explodes around you.

A man runs at Resia and makes to grab her, but loses his hand for his bravery. A splash lands at your feet, brown and sick. Someone has thrown feces at you. The two knights that had been arguing have drawn steel and are dueling in front of you.

---


Orland,

You sit down in the cripples chair, in front of the hearth, not wanting to wander around the tower. You dream of a girl atop a tower. The tower is an impossibly high version of Creedmont Tower in a strange mountainous land you’ve never seen with waking eyes. Blonde and slight, the girl on the tower billows among the clouds atop the roof. Against the sky, she is clothed in gauzy white wisps, the woman in the clouds. Not without lust, you beseech the beautiful woman to come down. She nods and plummets. Her body makes a hard wet sound as it hits the foundation of the tower. Crumpled and dead, she is no less beautiful. The crippled knight stands over her, his body whole. You realize he was a tall man at one point. He shakes his head and looks at you with silent hate. As he opens his mouth to accuse you of the murder, only shadows emerge from his mouth, grasping and clawing at the air. You reach for your sword, but find only an empty hilt in your scabbard. Once the shadows are free from the old man’s mouth to rip you to shreds, he looks at you cruelly and says only “No time.”

The guards wake you as they reheat the stew for their breakfast, three hours after dawn.


---


Baltasar

The sounds of mob get louder as you wind through the streets. After about 5 minutes of alleyways and thin streets the street opens up a bit. In the distance, what appears to be a pitched battle is taking place.

---

[LongVin]

Baltasar

"Sound the horn!" Growls Baltasar to one of the nearby knights.

Someone would pay for this, how dare they bring violence to Farhold. He would make sure that a few people danced from the hangman's noose for this injustice.

Pulling the sap from his weapons belt he charges ahead the retinue of knights in tow behind him. As the blast of the horn gives way he shouts as loud as his lungs can manage to get his voice over the fighting mass "BY ORDER OF LORD GRAYEN! CEASE AND DESIST IMMEDIATELY!"

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Expecting a very different answer, Morgan looked appalled, and was speechless for a long while, long enough for them to catch up to lady Wynnifrith. Regaining her composure, Morgan just muttered, "Of course, my lord. My excuses cannot be more humble." Straightening up in her saddle somewhat, Morgan looked over at lady Wynnifrith, enjoying herself immensely, and could not help but be amused as well. she sure knows how to ride, she doesn't need to be taught that. Falling in step closely with lord Grayen, Morgan stayed a little behind him out of habit, showing servitude to the great man.

[Zerkai]

Thomus "Highpipes" Belmont :smalltongue:

Thomus smiled as he watched the rock sail and hit the landlord in the head. His smile quickly faded though as a riot broke out shortly after, He knelled down, picking up the cloth of coins, putting his panpipes away "Well this went marginally worse then I thought it would... that's still not good" he sighed as he spoke to himself.

He blinked as he saw some feces thrown at him. <... I think it's time to get away from this place for a bit.> he called to Resia, watching as a man paid for trying to grab her, quickly moving close to her <Think you can make an exit for us?> he asked, hearing the horn blow a warhorn and someone shout over the crowd. He'd rather not have to explain this mess to the authorities.

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel sighed away the residue of anger, finding only uncertainty remaining, herself wondering how she could again approach the Magus by herself. Both his apprentice and son were reluctant to even try in the circumstance. Yet she couldn't leave the situation in this state.

“Don't worry about it, either of you. I'll see what can be done. Maybe a few words now will avoid unpleasantness later.” She glanced to the kobold at that note. “Anyway, he ran off with a book, so I'll try the library first.”

Rachel glanced down the path she last saw him go, and pursued. Pausing once in a while to consider her passage, listening for any signs of crying, for she hadn't the slightest clue how upset he may have been. She was still unsure why he was upset at all. Eventually the stairs were come upon, and she descended them uncertainly. The library was noted by the faint smell of books before she actually entered it. When inside, she wondered at it all, the tomes and texts of a thousand mind and methods found in one spot. The myriad of rows were impressive.

“Sir?” Rachel called, trailing along a path she had heard the rustling of robes, the retreat of steps. She tried to recall if she had ever aimed an insulting tune or two at the man, but could remember no such slight. Her voice had never caused him any grief. After a few seconds, she came upon the librarian, but stopped some distance away, still uncertain of what type of situation she found herself in. It had gone from pleasant conversation too sudden departure.

“Magus Bygod, I don't know what I did to upset you, sir. My intentions weren't cruel.” She crept a bit closer, until she were only four feet away, her voice lower. “Are you okay?”

[gdiddy]

Wynnifrith and Morgan,

“Think no more of it. We’ll discuss your other business later. However, I wave not brought you both out here for merely the fresh air, though it is pleasant. I wanted to discuss with you a service you’d render me before the tournament. I intend to send you both to guard a messenger from His Majesty for me.

My daughter will greet him into our lands and act as a formal envoy. I am entrusting you with my daughter, Sir Morgan. You, my champion, will sleep in her tent and protect her. While I fully trust you, appearances dictate that her tutor will also go and share a bed with you. My wife also insists that the Elf, Mercucio accompanies you three and shares the tent with you. Baltasar has already chosen several men to go with you.”

He pauses for a minute, inclining his head, waiting for you.

---

Baltasar,

The unarmored knights on horseback fan forward as the mob looks over at you. Even in doublets and tabards, they look imposing. For a minute, the whole of the riot is frozen in shock. A peasant not thirty feet from you wings around as if to throw a stone, and seeing the cavalry, his mouth gapes open. He drops it on his own foot, uncaring of the pain. Sir Graymond laughs at this and rushes the man, instantly pinning him to the ground.

As soon as these new trained fighters enter the fray, the bueatiful moment of frozen violence begins to dissolve. Several of the city guard, trained in riots, begin banging cudgels on their shields to frighten the mob. It dissolves almost immediately, fleeing in every direction.

---


Thomus,

The press of people explodes around you into pandemonium. Men who were beating each other suddenly begin assisting each other away from the guards. A lone boy, not older than four is crying, alone. The two knights continue dueling, oblivious to the end of the violence. Resia grabs your hand and ingeniously pulls you into your house, the perfect exit strategy.

The door slams shut behind you, and Resia bars it. There are frantic knocks and cries for help outside it.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Pointing to the would be rock thrower yells "Sir Graymond, arrest that man!" He allows himself a slight smile as he realizes the knight is already in action taking the man to the ground.

Sap in hand ready to be used he moves to intercept one of the fleeing rioters shouting at him "You there stop this instant! Who is responsible for this mess!"

[gdiddy]

Baltasar,

"Battle, YES." Sir Graymond lays into the man perhaps overzealously using the man's face to remove the gravel from the street.

The rioter freezes, recognizes you and takes his hat off. Even as he halts. A guard takes your lead and grabs him. You see he is pretty beat up, with a split in his lip and a rapidly bruising eye.

"Well...ow! See...I mean, Sir. How'd it start? Matias, the landlord that owns the block against the south castle wall was hustling this singer, Tom Highpipes. Mati brought some men to rough the boy up for ****ing an elf and some such. The bard started talking 'bout honor and station, suddenly, everyone went mad. I just came to hear a song or two. Didn't expect to suddenly have a Southern bastard hit me in the face."


---

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine smiles, and heads right into the inn, quite bemused at his good luck. Perhaps this trip wouldn't be so bad after all.
Walking up to the innkeep, he puts on a charming grin. "G'day to you, sir. As a lonely traveler on the way to Farhold, I find myself phenomenally lacking in decent drink. I was hoping you could rectify that situation for me." As he speaks, he reaches into his coinpurse... then grows pale.
"Ehhh...heh. I seem to be... rather short of coin at the moment."

[gdiddy]

Jaine,

He looks at your demeanor, shaking hands, and sunken eyes.

"You got a really nice clothes, there, for a beggar. How about you gimme that cloak and I'll fill four wine skins for you and as much ale as you can drink standing?"

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Seemingly satisfied in the man's response Baltasar waves his hand "Let him go. He is free to go home." He orders the guard.

Looking about the chaos he smacks the blackjack against his had. "Find me Matias, the bard and the elf."

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine weighs his options for a time, considering the costs. Sure, he could get roaring drunk... but he needs his cloak to stave off the cold. It's far too valuable to fritter away.
Of course, why not have both?
Grinning, he takes off his cloak and sets it on the counter before him. "Fill them up, and the cloak is yours."
As soon as the wineskins are full, he casts a quick spell, takes the lot and makes good on his escape.
Hideous laughter on the innkeeper.
Con check:[roll0]
...pooh.:smalleek:

[Zerkai]

Thomus "Highpipes" Belmont

Thomus let out a sigh of relief once they were back inside their new house, sitting down on the floor and setting the handkerchief of coins down next to him. "Well.. that was one hell of a housewarming party."

He looked up at Resia, smiling as he bowed his head <Thanks... I think we'll wait a little while till the riot's fully dispersed, then I'll explain it to one of the guards.>

[gdiddy]

Baltasar,

The guards find Mattias next to the body of a hedge knight you don't recognize. Both are very dead. Mattias seemed to have swallowed his tongue in a seizure and the hedge knight is cut open from several wounds.

The guards have also found a four year old. Aside from several people who are too wounded to get away, the street is empty and the crisis averted.

---


Jaine,

You are fatigued (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/conditionSummary.htm#fatigued). Of course, you're also down a Con point.

You feel a piece of yourself torn out through your hands as you cast the spell. It actually makes you feel a bit ill. As you wave a feather about and throw confections in the man's face, everyone in the inn (an old man who is talking to a serving girl, and a younger man sitting by the hearth) is rather perplexed. Since this is the first time any of them have seen magic outside of stage shows, you seem to be a very bad comedian. As the innkeep keels over in shrieking laughter, the old man starts laughing too.

You walk out the door with your wine and cloak, unmolested. Mounting your horse, you head back to the road. As you approach the fork you hear a man shout "STOP! THIEF! WITCH!" and hear the sound of a crossbow being cocked.

---


Thomus,

It's very quiet outside except for a grown man crying.

---

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar starts at the sound of her voice. Every muscle in his body wants to turn around to look at her, but at the same time, his mind is telling him that it is the worst idea in the world. Just a few more minutes...then the pain will go away, then the shame.

Who is Eleazar kidding? The shame never really goes away.

"Who said you could come in here?" he demands, sliding the lost tome into its proper place.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Baltasar surveys the damage done by the riot. Damn, Matias and damn that bard and his elf whore. He knew they were up to no good. "Take the prisoner to the castle. I will deal with him later" he says to Sir Graymond.

"Someone call a priest for the wounded, if they can move bring them to the castle for interrogation. And bring the bodies to the castle as well." He orders no one in particular.

Moving on to the small child he drops to his knee and asks "Little boy, where are your parents?"

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

“The people that love you most,” Rachel replied calmly. She tilted her head once up to the ceiling, despite him not wanting to regard her. “The both of them are up there, and neither are certain what to say. There's still a sentiment to say it, though. We just want to be certain you're okay; I'm still not sure why you left so suddenly...”

Rachel clamped her lips together, leaning just a bit to the side he placed the book into its place. No tears were in his eyes that she could see. Whether that was a sign he had been embarrassed rather than wounded, or merely kept his grief hidden, was an arcane mystery at the moment.

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine gets the hell out of dodge, grinning mirthfully and turning back, shouting, "Thank you, sir, for contributing to the sum of bastard debauchery!" He then almost falls off his horse, though he manages to regain his balance.
And as his horse sprints away, he begins to realize that that was actually rather fun. He'd spent far too long cooped up in Karhold: it had been quite some time since he had done anything interesting.

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar presses his lips together into a thin, fine line. Turning his eyes to her, he momentarily feels the need to tell her, anyone really, everything. However, his lips twist into a distorted frown as he fights these feelings off. This is exactly why his...transgressions don't happen here, this is why he doesn't allow certain things to happen in his sanctuary, his place of learning. He should know better, and for that he is nothing but disappointed in himself.

"This...this is just a distraction," he manages to say. "There's work...experiments to do. I...can't..."

The words he says are dead, lifeless, falling from his mouth like stones into water, and for the first time in a long time he realizes just how tired he is. He allows the sentence to trail off because he, for the life of him, doesn't exactly know what he can't do.

[Alsc]

Ferenc

He lay there a moment, too stunned to move, as the taste of blood and snow filled his mouth. Ferenc could barely make sense of the din around him, the sounds seemed to shake and jumble within his helm, assaulting his ears. He heard screams, one human, Wahl, and two more beastly. He struggled to get to his feet but the grip of the mud was strong and his limbs still numb.

A wave of slush came next as another figure joined him on the ground and squinting through the wet, he made out his cousin's face and found his legs had the resolve to stand.

With a sickly squelch, he pulled himself from the mud, keeping his feet and presence of mind steady with vise-like determination, as he drew his shield (sloughing slush) in front of his chest. Straining his eyes to see around the phantom splotches of light that still plagued his vision Fer struggled to make sense of the scene before him: who of his retinue still stood, where the misbegotten whoreson-of-a-giant was now, and whether the latter was anywhere near enough for him to lose his sword into its double neck.


Typing from a weird mini-keyboard. please forgive any typos I've forgotten to fix.

Total Defense.

[loser0ll]

Dirkin quickly grabs up the rest of his earning before running towards the source of the commotion, curious about what might be going on.

[Zerkai]

Thomus Belmont

Once it grew quiet Thomus stood up <It looks like the guards have dispersed them... I'll go and sort everything out, you should stay here until I get back> he told Resia, before opening the door and stepping outside, taking a look around.

"This better not happen ever time I want to play... " He muttered to himself

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel leaned forward a bit when he spoke. His words gave the tiniest of insightful gleams, like a spark suddenly appearing in a dark room. The clarity it offered was so fleeting that she was uncertain she saw anything defining at all. She still shook her head sadly at what she thought was found.

“Sir...when you can't let yourself be open with another....work isn't the cure.” She went quiet only to let the words take root. “It's the distraction. But you have three people nearby, all of us willing to listen, no matter what you might wish to say.” She offered a small smile of encouragement.

[gdiddy]

Baltasar,

"I don't know. Daddy took me and Mommy out to see the falcons on the tower. Then we heard the pipes and watched the Elf lady dance. She was pretty and Daddy said so, but then Mommy got angry and a headache and now Daddy has to sleep in the tanning room until he can buy her jewelry."

As the boy says this, you see Thomus walk out the front door of a house, twenty feet in front of you.

---


Jaine,

Needless to say, the innkeep is a lousy shot. Though hearing the quarrel is a kind of rush.

Which path on the fork do you take?

---


Ferenc,

As you stand and Ostkar straightens your helmet, you see the giant still standing. Your heart skips a beat until you see he is unarmed. His heads and arms are slumped limp and useless to either side. Supported by your lance, Ostkar spear, and Cael's pike, the giant is now a grim tripod. Reiner is helping up his brother, who has rolled half way down the hill. His horse is nuzzling yours, looking for affection and reassurance. You piece things togather quickly. When the Giant finally succumbed to Cael's fatal blow, it near crushed Wahl and his horse, but was stopped by the pike. Of course, in its death throws, there was no way Cael could keep hold. He fell.

You almost laugh or cheer or both, before you cough up a little blood. Cael's eyes open up and he immediately begins opening your breastplate. You're pauldrons have crimped at the second blow and cut into the flesh of your arm and shoulder. You realize why your shield was so heavy, suddenly. Ostkar takes a look at it and tisks. He begins counting and pressing on your ribs, quickly finding the broken ones.

"This is no good. Too close to the lung, boy. Reiner, Wahl, Cael, Andras, make a camp and get me my wine skin. We'll need a hot fire, then tents."

"Done." Reiner replies immediately, grabbing a hand axe off his saddle and riding toward a dead tree a hill or two away.

"Mother's ****, this has been a bad afternoon." He begins unpacking the bags with Andras. Ostkar scowls at the curse, but stifles a grin.

"Cousin, I...we killed a giant." He looks entranced with the heroics of it.

As the camp get's set up around you, Ostkar offers you some wine and gets out a small set of tools and cloth.

450 XP. Get ready to get Heal checked.

---


Dirkin

There is a throng of people running from the commotion, but you make your way past them. Down the street, you see Baltasar talking to a little boy. Several dead bodies are lying around. There are a few wounded people. Put simply, it looks like something bad just happened.


---


Thomus,

<This never happen in Lyros. I don't think people here appreciate music.>

Baltasar is outside, with a couple guards. He's looking after the little boy. He seems honestly sympathetic. Wait. Actually, he's just staring at you, now.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Standing up from the boy he turns to one of the guards "See to it that the boy is escorted home safetly."

"Thomus, a word with you?" He calls to to the bard as he approaches.

[Zerkai]

Thomus Belmont

"Of course, I'll answer any questions you may have." Thomus let out a sigh, standing where he was as Baltasar as he approached "I'll take a wild guess and assume it's about the riot?"

[Alsc]

Ferenc

Relief flooded him when he saw the giant (and no others) dead and Ferenc allowed himself to relax into the care of his retainers.

He kept his feet only for as long as it took Ostkar to lead him to a solid, mudless patch of ground. Then, Cael at his elbow, he sat. Somewhere in that short distance he lost his shield, now tuck under his squire's other arm. After a moments hesitation he allowed his sword to be pried from his slick grasp as well. Ferenc was in no shape to clean it himself. "We shall make a knight of you yet," he managed to rasp out, despite the clear hurt to his body and ego. The killing blow should have been his.

Ferenc helped Ostkar assess his injury, hissing when he felt a touch on bruised flesh and twice as loudly for a break. He needed no prompting when the wine was brought. He turned his head, neatly spat some blood into the snow, and took a hefty swig from the skin. He ignored his ribs' protest as he swallowed. If he drank enough it would go away, maybe taking his shame with it.

No, he appraised the skin. Not enough wine for that.

w00t! My first xp ever! Check away.

The giant tripod image made me lol.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

"Very perceptive." comes the sly response. Baltasar continues as he reattaches the sap to his belt. "According to witnesses it was yourself, your...associate and a fellow by the name of Matias responsible for this." He jerks his thumb towards the body being gathered up "Of course he isn't talking to anyone."

[Zerkai]

Thomus Belmont

The bard blinked as he looked over at the body of Matias, looking surprised "Oh... I thought he was just knocked out... okay, I'll start from the beggining."

"We had decided to-" Thomus paused for a moment. He was about to use the phrase "settle down", but it sounded marital... and he just might get into trouble with Resia if she heard. "-find a place to live. You can only sleep on the ground so many times. So, I decided to sit outside our new house and play a tune. Eventually I attracted people and they started tossing coins over and my traveling companion joined in the act."

"Then, that landlord came over, had the nerve to take the coins from the pile, in board daylight in front of a crowd. So I pull out my whip-" He said, patting the now coiled whip as his side "and he just flashes a short blade, and then he continued to pick out all the silver pieces. So I lash his his arm that was stealing with my whip. guy tries to draw his sword, then my elven friend kicks him in the stomach before he can." Thomus explained, now bringing his hand to his head, sighing "And then a woman screams "The Elves are Attacking!"..."

[Gorgondantess]

Um... whichever one leads to Farhold? You haven't told me anything about the forks in the road, so it's hard to make an educated decision. If both roads lead to Farhold, he'll take the road less travelled by. If he has no idea, the more weathered road. If they're exactly the same, and he doesn't know, I don't really care. My decision then would make no difference.

[LongVin]

Baltasar


Shaking his head Baltasar slips into using Elvish so as to avoid eavesdropping by any nosey interlopers from listening in "<So he stole from you? You should have gotten the guard to come rather than take matters in your own hands. Though if he was indeed stealing from you, and know I will find out then you are in no trouble concerning that.>" Despite his misgivings for the possible spy Baltasar knew if he pressed the issue the case against the bard would not hold up in court on this account.

"<Now."> he contunies in Elvish "<how did this break out into a full blown riot and why do I have a bunch of dead bodies in lord Grayen's street?>"

[caleyndryn]

It is as if a door shut in Eleazar's mind. A woman? Attempting to get close to him!? No. This is not allowed.

He clears his throat, his face melting from that of near vulnerability to that of a stern scholar.

"I have to go back to my lab, and unfortunately I do not allow people," he pauses as though the word "people" might not be the correct term for this situation. "Unaccompanied in the library."

[gdiddy]

Jaine,



Jaine,

The road quickly passes beneath your horse. Sober and shaking from detoxification, you come to an inn by a fork in the road an hour before noon. The inn has a stable and several rooms. Importantly, they probably have wine.

One tine dips Southwest more directly toward your destination through the Kingsboro Wood. It could shave a day or more off the trip. The main road continues West and drives directly South deep in Grayen lands.

---



Kingsboro Wood it is. The clown would never think to follow you in there.

---

Everyone else, I'm sorry. But I'm tired and have work tomorrow. Expect more postings then.

[Zerkai]

Thomus Belmont

<I can show you his blood on almost all of the silvers and on none of the coppers if you want.> He continued, speaking in Elven as well.

<The situation escalated when the two drew weapons and fought for a short moment, then the landlord tried to use that woman's panic to turn the crowd into a lynch mob for us, some of them started throwing rocks. I managed to calm the crowd and gain some supporters. The real riot broke out when one of them decided to aid me and my friend by tossing a rock at the landlord. Then he went down, and everyone started to brawl, two knights started dueling. Me and my friend decided to retreat back into our house when someone started throwing feces.> His finished explaining with a grimace

[LongVin]

Baltasar


Once again looking over the battle, he had no way to argue with the bard right now until he spoke to some of those who were arrested. Of course it was important to get the story now before he had time to fabricate and conspire with the Elf. Damn Elves, why did they have to be the center of all his recent problems. "<That won't be necessary. We will get to the bottom of this mess and judging from your lack of wounds I can tell that the crowd didn't set on you once the riot broke out or otherwise you'd be like Matias over there. I would suggest that you relocate to another house, he might have some friends who will want to repay the favor.>" In truth Baltasar didn't really care about the bard, what he did care about was some damn ass fool coming by and trying to start something, Lon forbid he set fire to the hovel and bring down the whole blasted block.

"<May I speak with your Elf friend?>"

[Zerkai]

Thomus Belmont

<Thank you for the advice.> He bowed his head to Baltasar <And I will ask her... though she may not be in the mood to speak> he warned, knocking on the door <Resia? Everything's settled for now, but someone wants to talk to you as well.> He called

[Ormagoden]

Wynnifrith

"Father, I am honored that you would allow me to meet this messenger."

Wynnifrith says as she tilts her head to her father.

"I understand that this man may be difficult but I also understand that bearing a message from the king is of great concern to us all. I couldn't bear it if such an important message was lost to the wild in our lands."

She smiled pleasantly to her father and Sir Thomason. She did indeed look as if she was enjoying the air and the freedom a good ride provided her. A thoughtful look came about her for a moment and then she spoke again.

"Father, if I may, other then the safety of your first child and a message from the king. It seems as if there seems to be another concern on your shoulders in regards to this matter."

[loser0ll]

Dirkin checks around, as he sees that bard who had come along, and the man named Balthasar talking together. He moves forward cautiously, not quite sure what to say or do - it seems as if most everything is well taken care of for the moment. Still, boredom and curiousity combine, so he approaches anyways.

In Elven, he says <"Excuse me, but I think I recognize you two vaguely - aren't you two of those who came along on the same trip as me? I'm Dirkin - the performing Fool for our mutual Lord. I noticed a lot of people running and yelling, and then you all standing around some bodies - is there anything I could do to help?">

Hardly any chance they'll accept the help of a Fool, but it might get them to talk a little about what's going on...

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel parted her lips a little, her tongue on the tip of protesting, but she sighed instead. A reluctant nod chased it immediately afterwards. A new acquaintance would be the most unwilling to have their private thoughts pressed for.

“Okay then; I'll stop by tomorrow instead.” Despite preferring people to parchment, she spent a moment to marvel at the vast area of tomes that had been collected. “You might be less busy, and I'm certain what I need to know is in here.”

With that, she went to exit the library, intent on going upstairs.

[Lubirio]

Morgan

Mulling it over in her head, Morgan respectfully stayed silent and rode alongside lord Grayen and lady Wynnifrith, not bothering to stay behind anymore. she understood, she will be safe under my watch, what those other misfits are for I don't know, but she did. Lord Grayen wanted to make it clear to the public that Wynnifrith wasn't anyone's mate yet, especially not his androgynous champion of the house's, who, looking for her own mate, didn't think of the consequences it would have if people thought of her and Wynnifrith together. She hadn't linked the two of them herself. Surely he must understand I have no interest in other women, only men. But that wasn't what it was about, she knew that.

[caleyndryn]

Eleazar takes a deep breath, waiting a few moments before following after her. Such was the tragedy of the tower...they were both going in the same direction and yet there was only one way to get there.

As he trudged up the stairs, ignoring the bard, his mind turns to his work...hopefully the kobold had gotten his son up to speed.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Ah it was the fool who wasn't really a fool. He should have known better then to start speaking in Elvish to them. Switching back to the common tongue of the realm he addresses the court fool "Just a little disturbance Dirkin, nothing to see here. Best to move along."

[gdiddy]

Ferenc,

As the fire starts and the tents spring up around you, you begin to pass out, but will yourself to stop. As the warm of the fire hits you, the pain finds new intensity. Cael and Ostkar help you to your feet and away from the camp. They help you to relieve yourself before bringing you back and sitting you down on your bedroll. It’s stuffed wool in your family colors and nicer than most people’s beds.

Ostkar puts a steel pot on the fire and fills it with wine, adding a sprinkle of saltpeter from his kit. Once it comes to a boil, he lets it cool and instructs Wahl and Reiner to hold you down. You know better than to protest.

Roll a Constitution check.

---


Wynnifrith & Morgan,

Wynnifrith:

300 XP

Morgan:

100 XP

Lord Grayen asks Wynnifrith a question: “Why is Lionel, His Majesty, sending his bastard here, alone?”

He then answers it. “The King is childless and aging. Even though old men sire children, they are usually weak and sickly, occasionally dull-witted or mad. Lionel’s blood is strong, but he has lost many children on three wives. The only child that has lived past four winters is Jaine. Jaine is not liked, a boy in a man’s body. He cannot politic, or fight, or even remain sober without shaking and tearing, but he is Lionel Asteros’ son.

“I believe that Lionel has legitimized his bastard and is sending him here to seek your hand as the future Queen of Karhold. Aemon Darrow is proud and would never accept Jaine for one of his daughters. Laras Olrich has only two sons. The Duchess Salasia, though our ally, is powerful enough without being Queen to boot. This leaves you.

“He sends him alone, to make him all the more inconspicuous, as Lionel would fear for Jaine’s assassination by his own ministers if the boy was made Heir without my protection.. Now, Wynnie, I intend for you to meet this Asteros bastard-made-Heir and make your own conclusions about him. He is cunning, daughter, I expect you to like him. But I also trust your judgment of his character. Your mother and I were hardly arranged by our parents and we are happy everyday for it. If he is what you want in a husband, we’ll not bother with your part in the tourney when you return.”

Jame then looks at Morgan.

“I tell this to you, as well, Sir Morgan, because you are my champion. You are my justice and honor made flesh. Morgan, if Jaine takes liberty or acts cruelly toward my daughter, I want you to kill him as an act of my justice.”

“Now, let us ride and talk of pleasant things. I met your mother when riding this road and it makes me happy, still on bright days like this. How goes your preparations for the tournament, Morgan?”

Everyone:
Roll Spot.

---


Dirkin, Baltasar, & Thomus,

Resia approaches with her deliberate grace. She eyes somewhat proudly an arm, now grey and ownerless on the ground before addressing Baltasar.

“Yes, Mortal?”

Everyone:
Roll Spot.

---


Orland,

Sir Kale and Aaron come down stairs slowly, laughing at something. The knight sits beside you on a plain bench and calls for his morning wine.

“I’m sorry if I was curt last night. An old man is often living in the past more than he should. If you require any provisions on your trip, Orland Creedmont, you’re more than welcome to it. This tower is not just the tomb of a broken knight, waiting to die. It’s also a welcome respite for you, whenever you may call.” He uses your full name, perhaps having pieced together your face and your father’s. He smiles, unexpectedly.

150 XP

---


Jaine,

40 XP. Roll Knowledge Geography, Survival, and Ride

---


Eleazar & Rachel

As you return to Eleazar’s office, you see great billows of black smoke coming from the lab, at least as bad as earlier. The lab itself is not in view, obscured by a blackness that has half-filled the office. Derenik and Mathusis look at you, frightened and surprised. They’re fanning the smoke away from the door with your rug.

“Father! Help!”

---

[Gorgondantess]

Righto. In the future, I'm okay if you roll for me, just to speed things up.
Geography: [roll0]
Ride:[roll1]
Survival:[roll2]
And I'll throw in Knowledge: Nature, coz he has ranks[roll3]
Well... nat 1 ride roll, and the other 2 19s.
This'll be interesting.

[Alsc]

Ferenc

Fully occupied in his struggle to stay conscious, and half delirious for it, Ferenc let himself be tugged and led about. His high rank, if nothing else, gave him a comfortable sort of entitlement. It made being waited on (for whatever reason) second nature, and he felt no shame on that account.

Fer was pale and drawn by the time they led him to his bedroll. He had just the energy to make a ironical face, with just a trace of his usual humor, at one of the twins as they descended on him. Wahl, it was Wahl.


Con: [roll0]

Pffft! NOW I roll well....

[caleyndryn]

Panic races through Eleazar's heart as he sees his son so close to that wretched smoke.

"Derenik, don't breathe in, you foolish boy!" He springs to action, waving the smoke away from the lab with a spare cloth he finds draped over a chair. "Damndable creature!" he yells at Mathusis. "You should have waited for me. What makes you think you can do such a thing on your own!?"

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel's eyes went wide at the billowing black, it looking like a creature of Kyresh yawned from inside the lab. “What happened?”

[gdiddy]

Jaine,

You're a full day ahead of everyone else. Rushing now might mean a lot of waiting later.

You're not moving very quickly, but you know the trail well enough. You make several false paths down the snowy game trails and then continue on, confident that they won't send dogs after you for a few wineskins. In the forest is a logging town and hold fast named Kingsboro about one day into the woods. The whole of the forest is plagued by Goblin bandits who make their homes in an abandoned tower. There is also a Drow Princess that calls the ground beneath the forest home as a vassal to your father. He doesn't raid, but polices it often and exacts a toll on travelers occasionally. However, the robber knights and rogue kobold bands of the Horn Road are much more dangerous. There is a graveyard up the road, where music is heard by travelers at night. You know you should avoid this place at all costs.



---


Ferenc,

You remain conscious and ruin my attempt at a time jump for you. :smallwink:

Wahl returns your grin: "Sorry, Boss. Think of red-haired Western ladies."

The boiling wine is blinding white hot in your closed eyes, overwhelming your mind and threatening to make you pass out. You hold on, though. Slightly fascinated, you look over at your shoulder. The wine has scalded your skin around the wound, but you see in the snow beside your bed pieces of metal and dirt washed out of it. Ostkar hands the pot to Cael and takes out a piece of catgut and needle and connecting the split flesh in your shoulder where your armor crimped and cut. Once this agony is done, presses and flexes your shoulder, testing the needlework. He is silent as he works.

Nodding, he takes the pot from Cael and pours it over your arm. Then, lifting you up to sitting, he begins wrapping a thick strip of wool around you. He further binds this with a spare saddle strap. He lays you down.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

---


Rachel & Eleazar,

"I wanted to help you and Mathusis told me about the alchemy work you were doing. I tried to replicate it! She told me about the smoke, but it was more than last time, I think!"

Mathusis the Sage doesn't know what went wrong! We used the same bowl as the last time, Master!

---

[NotANinja]

Rachel Eletza

Rachel tried to slot the black clouds into any titbits she had ever gleaned of alchemy. She stayed away from the smoke as the Magus ran to fan the smoke away. It seemed futile. But like the others, she continued looking to the mage, expecting him to understand how to control the situation.

Bardic Knowledge: [roll0]

Trying to figure out if I can offer any insight into getting the situation under control.

[caleyndryn]

She? Silly boy didn't know anything about kobolds. But now wasn't the time. He eyed the smoke, it would be so much easier to get rid of it using the abilities he had spent years learning.

"This isn't working, I know what to do."

Throwing the towl aside, Eleazar makes a mad dash around his office, picking up the required things he would need, a pinch here, a dash there, going over the words required in his head. With his ice blue eyes blazing and dark hair wild, he truly looks as mad as the servants say he is.

"Just a little of this...some salt...yes.." He stood for a moment and made himself still, closing his eyes he imagines a great cold within him, drawing this forward, he yelled out the draconic words necessary for his spell, that practice spell that he could manipulate to do what he needed it to, in this case, to banish the smoke.

Con check for casting Prestidigitation: 12+2=14 14!

[Alsc]

Ferenc

Ferenc barely had time for a weak chuckle before Ostkar started.

Fer stubbornly held onto consciousness. When the pain burnt away to numbness he opened his eyes. Past the bulk of Reiner's shoulder he saw his own, wounded limb. The flesh there was lividly red and already with the silvery sheen of a burn.

When Ostkar finally lay him down again, Fer managed a faint smile, glad for the efficiency of his knight. "Like a maiden's kiss," he lied.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Spot check:

[roll0]


Why did Elves always insist on flaunting their immortality to the rest of the world? They should hold more respect for men espicially when they dwelled within their courts and were subject to human lords. "I just wanted to get an account of what occured here from all those involved."

[loser0ll]

Dirkin steps back, not quite leaving, but politely stepping away. He hovers sort of mid-vision, almost trying to blend with the shadows as he leans against a wall, and it's almost as if the shadows play tricks on him - he looks like he'd be -very- good at a game of hide-and-go-seek.
[roll0]

[Zerkai]

Spot Check
[roll0]

"Yes, it's best if we get this over with so we can finish settling in." he told Resia with a smile, before he turned his attention to Dirkin.

"Ah.. Dirkin? I've seen you perform before if I remember right... I'm Thomus Belmont.. Or "Tom Highpipes" As the people have started calling me... My friend is Resia." he gestured to the Elf woman.

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine decides to take his time going through the forest, his horse going at a slow walk. He takes sips of wine as he goes, not necessarily to get drunk, but merely out of habit: it's an unconscious action. Most of his attention is divested on watching the scenery.
He goes through what (he thinks) is the safest road through the forest, mostly clear of bandits, and as the horse below him clops along he sings a bawdy song about a woman whose beloved husband killed her. He then continues to whistle it halfheartedly as he continues through.

[LongVin]

Baltasar

Baltasar turns back and looks at dirkin waving him away "Come on now, move along. Nothing to see here. All the action is over. I am sure there is something interesting to do at the castle."

[gdiddy]

Dirkin, Baltasar, & Thomus,

Dirkin and Baltasar, you notice a large amount of smoke coming from the castle.

<Thomus was playing the second motion of Alios' Song of Spring while I accompanied by dancing. The stupid man who is dead by stoning attempted to steal our devotions when- What are you two looking at?>

Her eyes follow yours to the thick black plumes coming from the castle and get large.

---


Jaine,

Jaine, it grows dark quickly in the wood. Your horse is almost as tired as you, the weight of your supplies heavy on him.

Resting might be prudent, as Kingboro is still 6 hours away.

---


Ferenc,

You heal 8 hit points and have stopped bleeding.

It's late on your first day on the Barrowfields by the time everyone is settled. As the other men cook and feed you, there is a sadness to them. This continues until Ostkar rebukes them. "Ferenc is going to be fine. The ettin was frightened, and hardly landed a blow on the Prince. His armor caught most of it. We'll give the boy a night of rest, and then we'll look for the damn thing's cave in the morning. Then, if Ferenc is up to it, we'll continue down to the Horn Road."

---


Rachel & Eleazar,

Rachel
The smoke is like nothing you've ever seen or heard of before. A unique lab accident.

Eleazar, you focus on the smoke and make it your enemy. In this tower, your sanctum of power, it has no place. Even cantrips are amplified and made more volatile here. Several sigils inscribed on your walls flash to life. As a bright white light engulfs your hands, and a great mass of the smoke is dissipated, collapsing in on itself and dropping into fist sized stones on the floor. Smoke is still coming from the bowl, but it is reduced.

<Mother's ****...> utters Mathusis, barely perceptibly.

---

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine, now a bit drunk and already tired, realizes it would be rather prudent to bed down for the night. He sets up camp just out of sight of the road, off into the forest, tying up his horse behind the tent to a low hanging branch. As is about to go to sleep, he sets up a security: outside his tent, he puts his pack with all his things in it but his blade and armor: these he keeps on him. The pack rests against the flap of the tent, and a string is tied to a loop on the part leaning against the tent, going into the tent and tied around his wrist: he'll know if someone is trying to rob him.

[gdiddy]

Jaine,

You bed down restfully and immediately get to sleep.

Roll Listen

[Gorgondantess]

Okiedokie, listen...
[roll0]
Well, 'nother good roll. Cool beans.:smallcool:

[gdiddy]

Jaine,

You awake with a start and hear the sound of heavy footsteps around you.


---

[Gorgondantess]

Jaine gets up quietly, grabbing his blade and peeking out the flap of the tent.
Move silently:[roll0]
Oooh. Natural 1. My, my rolls have been polarized, haven't they?

[gdiddy]

Jaine,

The footsteps stop. You hear two voices, muffled in the sounds of the forest night. You see nothing outside.