Restored to Rule [IC]

[Vladislav]

OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=241711)

On the noon of the first day of summer, the air over Kronburg was thick with dust and sweat and heavy with noise. The big city was bustling with soldiers, laborers, idlers and travelers. From the palace atop Midriver Hill, these people seemed like ants, crawling through narrow pathways. Shielded from the heat and dust in a cool marble room of the east wing, six friends sat around an oval table, laden with with all manner of exotic refreshments. A servant placed another tray of grapes, bowed and retreated toward the door. Somewhere in the distance, the bells rang at the church of Pelor. On the wall, a huge portrait of Alaric I overlooked the little group.

The first king of Galadorn was depicted in his traditional pose, bow slung over his shoulder and one foot placed on his most recent kill, in this case a giant sabertooth tiger. On his head, the Crown of Kings glistened with gold, similar to the one a certain Galen was wearing right now in his throne room not more than two hundred paces away - although Galen's one was obviously a replica, as Shalana took the real Crown of Kings away with him.

Before anyone could properly enjoy the new batch of grapes, the servant returned with haste. My lord, your cousin begs audience. Behind him, the hunched form of Joanna slowly shuffled into the room. She stood before the table, and coughed once. Then she coughed a second time. For only a moment, she raised her eyes to look at Kallen, or possibly at the grapes, and then immediately focused on her right shoe. The church bells chose to cease ringing at the exact same moment, and the silence was becoming uncomfortable.

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay Edgewater

Finnlay sits as close to Kallen as possible, uncomfortable, but not showing it. Years of Edgewater training-both the elegant ways of the nobility, and the harsh old ways of the Edgewater tribe-block any emotion. He bows his head to Joanna, then resumes his careful watch of the room.

I hate to be the guy who makes a spot or search check every five seconds, but Finnlay is actively looking around to see if there are any hidden doors or view holes. He's heard tales of dungeons that pump deadly gasses in through tiny holes.
Search [roll0]

[WyvernLord]

Blond haired and blue eyed Poul acted like he had not a care in the world. Smiling slightly as Joanna comes in. He sips some wine from his glass, Poul speaks "Well hello, Joanna for what purpose do you grant us presence".

[moritheil]

Red-haired and violet-eyed, Rurithel sits at one end of the table. In place of armor she wears not silk, but a less expensive linen garment. While still by no means commoner clothing, it is the sort of distinction an attentive courtier might pick up on. She wears dark gloves, a cloak despite the heat, and no veil. A longsword is belted to her waist.

Closing her mouth on whatever she might have said, Rurithel takes a quick look at the princess, and then looks to the prince for his reaction.

OOC: Sense Motive [roll0]

I'm not sure if it's customary in Galadorn to stand when royalty walks in, but if it is, Rurithel will get up to do honor to the princess even if no one else will.

[Oh My God]

The game warden wasn't sitting with the others; instead, he'd been standing for just about the whole of the morning here, watching the idyl of the honest heir. Blackhand's facial expression was one of vacant goodwill, the look of a happy man with no cares in the world around people he liked. The clothing the huntsman wore was paradoxical; its cut and fashion was very simple, certainly plain in light of the usual fluff and frill of the court. On the other hand, it was -black-, and to dye a garment such cost a sum far beyond the reach of the rest of the garment's make.

Was he actually welcome at that table? Maybe. Maybe. But he sure as sin wasn't comfortable at it. It wasn't the others who sat there, oh no. The room was too big; it didn't matter where you sat at the damn thing, your back was left far, far too open. He didn't like that feeling one bit. So instead, Mattias stood. With his back to the wall, his eyes not quite looking at anything, his hands crossed behind him, the foreigner simply keeps watch as the princess arrives, silent and unobtrusive.

On the note of," That guy who always Spot rolls ", Matty here has a feat that lets him do Spot and Listen checks -constantly-; so you can consider those two covered pretty solidly at all times.

[Vladislav]

Rurithel
The princess seems even more embarrased and rigid than she does usually. She really wants to say something of importance, and yet she doesn't ...

Finnlay
As the others were talking and drinking, you were randomly tapping your fingers against the wall for no particular reason. There's one area underneath the portrait that sounds hollow.

Sneaking a glance at each of you in turn, the Princess squeezes out of herself, you are all Lord Kallen's friends, right? You should all come with us to Plessie. For the ...

Mattias
She exhales the last word so quietly that only you can hear it. ... wedding.

[VestigeArcanist]

Thomas à Becket

The Archbishop, an ascetic, stands up out of respect for the lady who has just entered the chamber. Thomas dons what appears to be a simple black habit and a black biretta without a tuft [a small hat worn by clergy and more often by higher religious officers], and the silver holy symbol of Wee Jas hangs from around his neck. Only this large symbol and his ornate ring betrays his humble exterior and reveals that his is the highest religious authority in the kingdom.

As he waits for the Heir's response, Thomas stands and makes an appropriate gesture of greeting to Joanne. He fondly thinks back to the time when he first held her in his arms, back before he was appointed Archbishop, before her father and him walked the road to become political enemies...

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay occasionally glances to the portrait, standing near Kallen and positioning himself to view the entire room if he can. He stares silently at Joanna for a few moments, then uncrosses his arms.
"Sorry, I'm merely an 'emissary' from the Edgewaters, here to check up on his Lordship. Wherever Kallen goes, however, I shall go."

Finnaly is currently wearing his armor. He doesn't feel comfortable out of it, but he has kept his clothes clean during his visit. His sword is on his hip, but he hasn't had to draw it in these last few days.

[WyvernLord]

Poul gestures wildly exclaiming excitedly, "Now who would miss it? I would not miss it for the world."
Know Nobility check to find out who she is talking about.
[roll0]

[Oh My God]

Mattias still waits, silent, for the decision of his employer. If the prince seems to have had trouble understanding the words of the princess, he'll have to contrive some means of making it clear what she said without embarrassing (and antagonizing ) her. But most likely, he'll simply be holding his tongue while the nobility jaws.

[Vladislav]

Joanna's jaws clenched together, pushing her pale lips into a semblance of a smile. That's good. Will you be Kall... Lord Kallen's best man?

[moritheil]

Rurithel continues to stand, waiting for some better hint as to what exactly is going on. Surely the term 'best man' implies some very formal contract . . . a wedding? The prince is getting married? And to use the title of 'Lord' rather than 'Prince' . . . is he being married out of the royal house, then?

Though her thoughts race, she tries to keep her face as still as she can.

[WyvernLord]

As Kallen.
"Excuse me, Joanna I was drinking. Can you repeat what you said?"

[Vladislav]

She blinks at Kallen, then utters the longest speech she ever spoke in recent memory. My Lord, I thought you knew... didn't father tell you? I thought he told you. He decreed that we are to be married on the morrow. When we reach Plessie. You and I. Married to each other. He said it's great honor for you. To be married into his family, that is. But if he didn't tell you ... I guess we shouldn't be talking. I'm sorry. I will leave now.

She turns around and hobbles out of the hall as quickly as her stunted legs allow.

[unless anyone takes proactive action to cause otherwise, she leaves]

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay waits until she's out of the room, then coughs.
"Well thod's just cruel, not boddering to tell you. Poor girl's probably godd her feelings all in a bunch and-"
He peers oddly at Kallen.
"Wait, you two are already related, right? I mean, you're Galen's nephew, son ah th-"

Finnlay looks about the room. Maybe he shouldn't finish that sentence, if Galen's listening in, he probably doesn't want the subject to be spoken of. He crosses his arms back over and resumes his steely glare over the room.

[WyvernLord]

Poul stands up and quietly follows Joanna.
If she shows any signs of noticing me I say hello.
hide [roll0]
move silently [roll1]

[Vladislav]

[roll0] ten chars filler

[Vladislav]

As the king's daughter leaves, Poul slowly follows, skulking in the shadows of the hallways a few steps behind her. She walks in the direction of the main hall, and after rounding a bend, runs straight into Olivia LeDayne - or rather, Olivia runs into her. What were you doing there? I was looking all over for you. Come, you can't keep everyone waiting. The princess takes the rebuke silently. Come , Olivia continues. We have to join the rest.

They continue down the corridor, and into the inner courtyard, sunlit and overflowing with men and horses.

[[if you want to keep following them there stealthily, I need another Hide check at -10, as there isn't really a good spot to hide]]

[WyvernLord]

Being sneaky.
[roll0]
If possible I will use my invisibility maneuver to get to a better hiding spot.

[moritheil]

Rurithel peers at the departing princess. "Well, that was certainly abrupt. My lord, from your reaction, I take it this is news to you as well? I don't mean to speak out of turn, but Lord Finnlay is right. Such a state wedding should be the result of considerable planning. For this to catch you unawares, why then . . . I wonder what it means that you were not included in the planning of it."

Her expression grows abstracted, as she mulls this over.

[WyvernLord]

As Kallen
"If I helped plan it I would not be at a disadvantage. And advantages are everything."
Kallen sighs and takes a drink of his beverage of choice.

[Vladislav]

Poul exits the doorway, and into the sunlight. For a moment, he feels almost naked, exposed in the wide courtyard, but then notices a barrel and darts behind it before anyone pays him heed. May guards and mulling about, saddling horses and loading carts and carriages. Among the persons he recognizes, other than the above-mentioned Olivia and Joanna, is Tomlin, Chief Officer of the king's bodyguards. Olivia whispers something in Tomlin's ear, then ushers Joanna into a fancy carriage, and climbs behind her. The castle gates are creaking open, and the caravan of two dozen horses, two carts and one carriage is turning to leave.

Meanwhile, Tomlin, flanked by four soldiers of the Dwarven Guard, turns towards the same hallway Poul just came through, and starts pacing in that direction...

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay can't take it any more. Who knows what might be behind the portrait! There could be some sort of arrow trap or something! Or a removable block leading to a room full of spearmen! Or there could be a brick full of explosive alchemical substances!

He stands off to the side of the portrait.

"You may wan' ta be careful, people, I'm saddisfying a suspicion."

He'll give people a few seconds to move, then-still standing off to the side-carefully remove the portrait from the wall.

[Vladislav]

Behind the huge portrait, once it is removed, with no little difficulty, is a ... wall. Just a wall of masonry. And although Finnlay can swear it sounded hollow last he tapped on it - and still does - there seem to be no cracks, holes, keyholes, peepholes, or anything of the sort.

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay taps around to get an exact lock on the spot in the wall that sounds hollow, draws his sword (And thanks his family's patron deity that his blade is made of enchanted adamantine) and stabs into the wall, making sure not to go so far as to stab anything that may be on the other side.

Rolls

To hit[roll0]
To damage [roll1]
And The extra cold damage from the enchantment, if it affects anything at all [roll2]

[Oh My God]

" I'll be watching the door if you need me, m'lord," says the huntsman in the ear of the heir before he heads outside of it and takes station there. He's not standing in front of it, though. Off to the side is his berth, leaning against the wall, mostly hidden from view by a suit of armor, the position being such that if he -were- spotted, he would appear to just be lazing against the wall and not lurking.

From here he has an excellent view of both the door, and the corridor up to it.


[roll0] for Hide

[Vladislav]

A normal sword would have bounced off the wall harmlessly, but this is no normal sword. Amid a shower of sparks, a chunk of wall falls off, and a dent is made, about as deep as a human finger is wide.

Mattias, and anyone else to makes a DC 15 listen check
Footsteps are heard behind the badly damaged wall, retreating rapidly

Meanwhile, the ranger takes a defensive post by the door, well-hidden in the shadows. [[unless the new information makes him want to do something else]]

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay picks his shield up from where he left it and readies himself.

"Whedder this is a trap or nodd, I don' like whud's going on here," Finnlay grunts, mountain accent perfectly framing the edge that's crept into his voice, and tries to stab into some mortar or something similar between bricks, hoping to pry a stone loose.

"Dere's someone behind this wall, running like they mean it."

[roll0]
[roll1]
+
[roll2] cold if it affects the stone at all. I think it does half damage in that case.

[WyvernLord]

I frown and turn to follow Tomlin.
Use invisibility and teleport to hide if they seem to notice me. If unused I teleport back into the room when I get within 50' of a shadow in the room.
Stealth checks.
Hide [roll0]
Move Silently [roll1]

[Vladislav]

actually cold does 1/4 damage to objects, and hardness applies. Which basically amounts to no damage at all. Adamantite, however, as luck would have it, bypasses hardness, so you come out ahead overall.

In a show of wanton violence and disrespect to royal property, Finnlay manages to demolish the wall further, and a fist-sized hole is made. The retreating footsteps are now heard clearly, and a flicker of light is seen through the hole, growing fainter by the second.

[[optimally, before we proceed, i'd like to know what Poul does, if anything, in the yard; if he doesn't post in a reasonable time, I'll assume he keeps himself hidden as he was ah, he did post. we can now proceed]]

[moritheil]

Rurithel approaches Finnlay as he continues to assault the wall. "Ah . . . Lord Finnlay, if they've already run, maybe we should limit the damage to the palace. Unless - do you think we can catch them? Did you see which way they went?" She places one hand on the hilt of her sword, preparing to assist this crude excavation if necessary.

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay peers through the hole to try and see the people on the other side. If he can't get a view, he'll give up on widening the hole and step back to guard Kallen.

"I agree. Guard the door and steel yourselves."

[moritheil]

Rurithel blinks at these words. "What is happening? I thought from your words it was a simple sneak, spying upon us. What did you see?"

[Vladislav]

Tomlin and the guards walk by Poul, and for a moment it looks like they are about to notice him. He has to don his Cloak of Deception to keep himself out of sight. He then overtakes them by Shadow Jaunt and arrives in the hall just a bit before they do.

As they approach Mattias' hiding place, one of the guards nudges his commander and points at the place where the ranger is leaning against a suit of armor. Tomlin is wary, his hand intinctively grabbing the hilt of his axe, but then recognizes the mercenary and composes himself somewhat. Master Blackhand, didn't expect to see you here. Back from your mission, I see.

Without expecting a response, he keeps advancing by Mattias.

[WyvernLord]

Poul pops into the room in a slight panic.
"Tomlin is coming."
I see the hole in the wall.
"Cover that hole."
I quickly stride over to where I was sitting and grab my drink. I gulp it down and pour myself another.

[TechnoScrabble]

"Nothing, they godd avay. And I don' trust a sort who won't let me see his face," he keeps an eye on the hole, but when Poul comes back in, his attention switches over to the door.

"Great. Maybe he will have the stones to stay and answer me."

[moritheil]

Taking her hand from her sword, Rurithel gathers the fragments of the wall from the floor and quickly shoves them into the hole. She replaces the painting over the hole, and finally casts prestidigitation to whisk away any dust and remaining rubble that would indicate the wall was damaged.

"We can discuss the details later," she says under her breath.

[Oh My God]

" You know how it is," replies the leaning lurker, not stirring from his spot. "Jobs sometimes end before you even realize they've begun.". The heir is in the room with Finnlay and the elf; he should be reasonably safe in there, provided Finn doesn't lose his head and start a civil war by putting holes in things over than walls.

And if Finn -does-, better to be here where he can flank the guards, and keep them penned in the room. Not that it will come to that, of course.

[WyvernLord]

"Don't do anything to them. It will not go well if we tip our hand in puplic."
If I have time I teleport through the hole in the wall.
If I do I tell the rest of the group that I took a walk. Do I know any good areas in the capital that aren't very well frequented that are in the opposite direction from where they came from?

[TechnoScrabble]

"Right," Finnlay calms himself, sheaths his sword, and resumes leaning on the wall near Kallen, albeit now he has his shield on his arm.

[VestigeArcanist]

Thomas à Becket

Standing besides the prince, Thomas wonders about this nonsensical turn of events. When I woke up, today seemed that it would be an ordinary day. He prepares himself for the worse, a civil war due to an arranged marriage discovered not even 5 minutes ago. Also, theere's a hole in the wall... For some reason. To everyone in general, Thomas loudly asks "What in Wee Jas name is going on?"

[WyvernLord]

Poul chuckles at the priest's exclamation.
"Short version? No one knows. Just keep up."

[Vladislav]

Acting with haste, Rurithel manages to hide the traces of the vandalism just in time. Lord Kallen? Tomlin confidently turns to the prince* as he strides into the room. You are to come with us, we leave for Plessie at once.
He's tall for a dwarf, about 5', and almost as wide. Two of his guards flank him, a third covers his back glancing suspiciously at Mattias, and a fourth takes a few steps to the side so he can have a good view of the whole room. Standard operating procedure, apparently.

* no one calls him prince outside your little circle though.

[TechnoScrabble]

"I trust I'll be joining the young Lord? To keep him safe, of course," Finnlay pats his shield, "Family business and all."

[moritheil]

Rurithel smirks at this strange turn of phrase. "It's a party, Lord Finnlay. Lighten up. We're guests. How could we stay away when such an important moment has come for our friend, and for the realm? We are doubly honor-bound to attend."

She reaches over to where a bell lies on the table, and looks over the soldiers. "Captain, I see you brought no porters with you. Shall I ring to have servants come for our effects, or have you already ordered it?"

[Vladislav]

It's hard to see through his beard, but it's quite possible Tomlin bites his lip for a moment as he glares at the Elf. I spoke to Lord Kallen. The five of you were never mentioned.

Sense motive DC 20
He's not pleased at the use of the word 'party'. It's almost like ... like you we're supposed to know that ... go figure.

[TechnoScrabble]

"I respect your position, sir, but widd all the respect due to you, I go whereffer Kallen goes. Who knows wodd sort of things mide be hiding around, wayding for its chance. The walls haff ears. Blades, too," Finnlay takes a step closer to his charge, "I expect you'd know all about such things, though. It must haff been hard to gedd such an esteemed position."

[VestigeArcanist]

Beckett struts to the front of the party and stops several feet short of the guards. Thomas opens his mouth. His words are not stern, but confident. Hold your tongue, Chief Tomlin, and show the proper deference to your Lords, which I know you have been reared to honor. Thomas puts his left foot forward, and sticks out his left hand. His stature implicitly tells the room that Chief Tomlin, Lord or no, is to give proper supplication to the Archbishop by kneeling down and kissing his ring, or risk offending both spiritual and natural practice.

[Oh My God]

From the hallway, Blackhand engages in a little stare down with the guard watching him, his Northman's height letting him loom over the dwarven detachment suitably. Meanwhile his hands pursue the business of worrying a cigar free from a pocket, trimming it with a knife (how'd -that- get in his hands?), and lighting it to puff puff life.

Pulling it free after several more puffs, the huntsman grins, still keeping eye contact with the dwarf. His smile is a toothy one, wide and white. Very toothy.

[WyvernLord]

"So I'm not invited! This is an outrage. At the very least Kallen should have a say in who comes."
I lean over and whisper to Kallen.
You do want me to come don't you?

[WyvernLord]

As Kallen
"Master Tomlin, I would recommend you be more polite to my friends if it were possible. Since I am to marry I would like to have my friends with me. You can not deny me this."
He stares at the dwarf daring him to try and object.
"We will need an hour to ready for the trip. None of us shall go til then."
He nods his head to the dwarf and heads to gather his belongings.
As Poul
I smile as Kallen talks to the dwarf when he finishes I quickly stand up to grab my gear.
As all of it is in my two magic bags I am probably the first to the courtyard.
If Tomlin is waiting.
"Hello Tomlin."
I give a taunting smile.

[Vladislav]

Beckett struts to the front of the party and stops several feet short of the guards. Thomas opens his mouth. His words are not stern, but confident. Hold your tongue, Chief Tomlin, and show the proper deference to your Lords, which I know you have been reared to honor. Thomas puts his left foot forward, and sticks out his left hand. His stature implicitly tells the room that Chief Tomlin, Lord or no, is to give proper supplication to the Archbishop by kneeling down and kissing his ring, or risk offending both spiritual and natural practice.

The dwarf's facial expression is that of granite as he leans and brushes his lips, or possibly just his bushy facial hair, against the ring. Archbishop.


As Kallen
"Master Tomlin, I would recommend you be more polite to my friends if it were possible. Since I am to marry I would like to have my friends with me. You can not deny me this."
He stares at the dwarf daring him to try and object.
"We will need an hour to ready for the trip. None of us shall go til then."
He nods his head to the dwarf and heads to gather his belongings.

An hour... and all of them... this trip was planned well enough in advance. He pauses, possibly wondering whether it's worth an argument, then rapidly turns on his heels and leaves, his entourage in tow. Don't make me come back, he throws over the shoulder.

If you arrive at the courtyard, you find both riding horses and carriage waiting for you, and can choose to ride in either.

[WyvernLord]

"Ah, a horse I have always loved riding."
I hop onto the horse as soon as the rest appear.
"I am glad you all made it. I thought we would have to leave you behind."
I flash a quick smile.

[Oh My God]

Mattias's own go bag was already on his back; he stayed in sight of Kallen as he ( presumably) oversaw the packing and preparation of his gear. Upon reaching the courtyard, he whistles sharply and a large ( literally ) wolf lopes up to him. After dispensing it a twist of jerky, the Blackhand mounts the roof of the carriage with the luggage; best line of sight from here.

[moritheil]

"In some small way, we are fortunate that you are not now the king, milord," Rurithel says to Kallen as a porter loads her baggage into the coach. "Were it known that you gave a lady only one hour to pack, high society would be in an uproar."

The elf has donned a shimmering chain shirt in place of her linen garb, keeping her sword belt, gloves, and other gear.

OOC: Rurithel doesn't actually have that many clothes and makes use of servants to help pack anyway. Would she have time to cast anything during the hour? If so, would she actually know where the guards' break room is, or where Tomlin's office is in the palace, if he even keeps one there?

If she judges she has time, and if Tomlin normally keeps to an office, she will have cast Clairaudience to try to see if anyone reports anything to Tomlin. If he is known to wander, but there is a guardroom, she will see if the guards gossip about anything interesting. If neither are true, she does not bother casting spells.

[WyvernLord]

As Kallen
"If I were king you would have known in advance. Because unlike some, being polite is something I acknowledge exists."
He gives a pointed look at Tomlin.

[TechnoScrabble]

"Milord, I must go gedd my horse, please be safe."

Finnlay exits the room and heads to the stables where his horse would be kept, whistling while he walks.

[Vladislav]

You all either saddle up or settle down, and the small caravan leaves the palace gates, turning left on Peddler's Lane to leave the city via the Dusty Road. Soon, you're rolling - or riding, as the case may be - between lush green hills and yellow fields heavy with wheat. Other than the six of you, the caravan consists of Tomlin and the above-mentioned four guards (dwarves on horses make a strange sight indeed), some servant riding a baggage cart, drivers for carriage and cart, and a dark-skinned scout riding well in advance of the group.

It is about three hours into the trip that the scout turns his horse around and gallops back. Some merry gathering ahead. He reports to Tomlin, smiling and leaning forward in his saddle, folk acting like they own the road. Seem agitated 'bout something.

Tomlin is unfased, and steers his mare forward. They'll move.
Sense motive DC 15 He despises the scout, throughly and completely
'tever you say, genatsvalle. The scout falls in line with the rest.

Further along the road, as advertised, a large and a rather loud group of peasants comes into view. A tied-up man stands in their midst, the focus of their attention, and a rope with a noose sways off an overhanging oak branch. This does not look promising.

[WyvernLord]

"Now what could the scout do to anger Tomlin this much.
Espying the lynching happening he rides up to a man.
"What is this man accused of?"

[VestigeArcanist]

Thomas also percieves something is afoot, and rides up along side with Poul, though he holds his tongue.

[Oh My God]

Mattias doesn't stir from his place atop the carriage; the fate of some slow moving poacher doesn't interest him.

[Vladislav]

"Now what could the scout do to anger Tomlin this much.
Espying the lynching happening he rides up to a man.
"What is this man accused of?"

M'Lord, a muscular middle-aged man steps forth, this filthy nomad was engaging in witchcraft. He has a round wind-blown tanned face, and the byceps of a man who has to lift several dozens bales of hay each day. Stole chickens from farms, seduced innocent girls. Nothing you need t'concern yerselves, M'lords, we'll string him up good.

Now that you have gotter a chance to see the accused, held tight by four men and awaiting his fate, you see he's dark-skinned and curly-haired, just as your scout. The two possibly share the same racial heritage.

DC 11 Knowledge (Local) check
The two dark-skinned men are Surface Drow, an offshoot of the subterranean Drow who fled the Underdark years ago for reasons not quite remembered. They are nomads, outcasts from one world, yet never accepted in the other, feared by many, distrusted and despised by all.

If you beat the DC by 5 or more:
Racial features:
* -2 Con, +2 Wis or Dex (choose one on character creation)
* Medium size
* Base land speed 30'
* Immunity to sleep and resistance to enchantments as Elf
* Low-light vision as Elf
* Racial weapon proficiencies as Elf
* +2 racial bonus on Bluff, Disguise and Sleight of Hand checks
* Despised: persons of other humanoid races recognizing the Surface Drow as such will automatically have their attitude adjusted down by one step (eg. from Neutral to Unfriendly)

If you beat the DC by 10 or more:
* One Surface Drow in ten is able to cast 1d4 random Divination spells as spell-like abilities 1/day
* Favored Class: any class which specifically prohibits Lawful Alignment counts as a favored class for a surface drow. Examples include, but are not limited to, CG Paladin variant, Barbarian, Cleric of a Chaotic deity, etc.

[TechnoScrabble]

Sense motive
[roll0]

[TechnoScrabble]

((Sorry for double post, got swordsaged))
knowledge (local) check
[roll0]

Finnlay rides as close to the carriage that holds Kallen as possible, keeping a close eye and looking inside often if he can.

"Is a man vurdt (worth) a few chickens and a woman's maidenhood? How much were the girls' vaters going to giff them avay for?"

He leans forward on his horse, staring menacingly at men.
"Or ver you aboud to kill a man just for being an elf or a magicker? Are these the olden times? Would you kill me just for being a nordtman? I vould very much enjoy vatching you try to best me in the circle of honor. Haff you even a blade to call your own?"

[Vladislav]

The man is unarmed, save for his two fists, and unarmored, save for a woolen shirt, open at the belly. He retreats from the advancing rider, but not too far, as his pals are there to support him. M'Lord, we are ...

Finnlay! Tomlin calls out. They're taking care of their own. Leave them to it. We have to keep going. The dwarven commander waves his hand, and the carriage driver whips the horses. The peasants move to the right to make room for the carriage on the left side of the road.

Meanwhile, if your own darkskinned scout has any opinions about having his compatriot hanged, he keeps them well to himself. Whatever he thinks of the situation, is very difficult to divine.
Sense Motive DC 25
No, not even then :smalltongue:

[moritheil]

Inside the coach, Rurithel winces as Finnlay's voice rises. Upon hearing the terms "witch" and "elf" thrown about, she reflects that maybe the time is not best for her to step outside.

"It would seem that racial harmony is still a distant goal, in the areas far from the capital," she remarks to others in the coach. "While I appreciate Lord Finnlay's sense of honor and justice, I am starting to hope the Archbishop or someone will take over talking."

As the coach lurches forward, she blinks. Opening a hinged window gently, she calls up to Matthias, taking care that her voice not carry too far. "Are we really in such a hurry that we must leave a man to be hanged by a mob? Without a trial? We have no knowledge of the truth or falsehood of these accusations, but is there no magistrate here to sort this out?"

[WyvernLord]

Poul glares at Tomlin. He moves out of the way before addressing the crowd.
"Under whose authority do you "string him up" as you say. Without a warrant for his death this is murder. If you feel like continuing this I could have you all strung up as well."

[TechnoScrabble]

"Vhat is the vordt of the chickens and the dowries?" Finnlay questions again, ignoring Tomlin, "If it is the kind of thing money vill not pay for, I vill gladly duel for this man's life. Haff you heard of the men of Edgewater? Nos stare iniustitia. Ve stand no injustice."

[Oh My God]

Mattias remains on his back, watching the clouds pass high overhead. His response to Rurithel has an amused tone to it. " That's just it, isn't it? We have no knowledge of the whole damn thing. What he did, what he didn't do. Just as likely that they're discharging the results of whatever passes for a trial around here. " He shrugs, though the elf can't see it.

At the offer from the landed noble to -duel- one of the peasants, Blackhand can't help it, he snorts in laughter. " Buncha faff and thunder, anyhow."

[Vladislav]

At the mention of money and a possible duel, the peasants are immediately divided into two camps. Some hoot and cheer on their apparent leader Come on, Will, you can take 'im!, while others break into small groups and perform complex calculations on their fingers, trying to reach an agreeable number, preferably a high one.

They end up asking for fifty silver to compensate for their chickens, the time spent hunting him down, and the loss of potential enjoyment of seeing him do the Hangman's Jig.

[TechnoScrabble]

((I've decided to use the jaegerizer (http://santiago.mapache.org/toys/jager/jagerize.cgi) to add accent to Finnlay's voice))
Finnlay smiles.
"Schmot choice, gentlemen," Finnlay begins counting out coins, "Hy'll see to it dat he remends his vays."

He holds out five gold coins ((1 gold coin = ten silvers according to PHB)) for the peasants.

"Kome along, elf, Hy do belieff Hy chust saved you life."

((And I edited my sheet to remove the coins))

[VestigeArcanist]

Thomas à Becket

HALT!! Thomas trots his horse to the front of the crowd and halts. With his head high and his chest out, he speaks with an authority gained only by this office.See my ring, my people, see my face! See my worldly symbols bestowed upon me by GOD! I am your Archbishop! Bring the prisoner forth to me and be blessed!

[Edit]ninja'd

[Vladislav]

As soon as the coins are collected in the peasants' sweaty palms, their grasp on the dark elf is released, and as soon as he is released, without saying a word, he starts running across a field in the direction of a nearby forest.

[[ you can give chase if you like. It's not like he's not used to being chased. ]]

Will watches the elf retreat, scratches the crown of his head, wipes some sweat from his brow, and turns to Finnlay. So ... wrestle you anyway?

[TechnoScrabble]

"Huh. He's not very appreciatiff," Finnlay watches the elf run off.

"If de goot sir Tomlin vould oblige us und take zum time, den surely. Hy kannot let my charge go ahead onsafe," Finnlay removes his helmet, revealing his scarred face and dirty blonde mat of hair that marks him as an Edgewater.

[VestigeArcanist]

Thomas trots his horse forward and shouts to the fleeing elf
Prisoner! Obey your Archbishop and be made holy! Come to side!

Spellcraft DC 13 to Identify
Cast Suggestion, with Naenhoon sigil he expends 3 turn attempts. DC 23 Will Save. Lasts 1/hour.

[Vladislav]

The fleeing Elf slows down... he takes a look over his shoulder at your small group, and then, slowly and indecisively, walks back in small steps. His face slightly dazed, he approaches the priest. He looks around forlorn, then says, Well, uhm..., then repeats same while omitting the 'well'.

[TechnoScrabble]

"Vat'd hyu do to him?" Finnlay looks over the elf. He doesn't really approve of mind affecting magic, but it certainly made his job easier.
"Kan hyu read his toughts? Or make him tell de truth if Hy ask him a qvestion?"

[VestigeArcanist]

Come... Let us pray in solitude. Thomas trots away from the crowd a few steps before turning and shouting out, And all those who wish to have thier god to smile upon them will follow and come pray with us. I, your Archbishop, shall give you my blessing. He waits a few moments for those who wish to come forward, and turns and walks to find a somewhat secluded place, spacious enough to hold those who follow.

[WyvernLord]

Still sitting on his horse Poul smirks at went on. He shakes his head then sends his horse into a walk behind those who follow the Archbishop.
A blantent display of power in front of the Spider's men. Subtlety is not his strong point.

[Vladislav]

What is it now!? Prayer time?? Tomlin grumbles as the drow and some of the more pious peasants step aside with the Archbishop. By the way, Wee Jas isn't exactly a popular deity in the countryside, so either they are very unusual peasants, or (more likely) not sufficiently knowledgeable in religion to realize who they are praying to.

The drow finds himself next to his recent captors again, and tries to maneuver to use the Archbishop as a human buffer. For a moment, everyone's heads are bowed down in prayer. It's really a peaceful and poignant moment. At least until Will screams Well let's wrestle then!! and charges Finnlay, attempting to grab him with his big hands and pin him down.

touch attack to initiate grapple [roll0] (incl. charge)
if hits, opposed grapple checks Will [roll1], Finn [roll2]

[Vladislav]

Unexpectedly, Finnlay finds himself wrapped in the man's huge arms.

Next round initiative: Finn [roll0], Will [roll1]

Anyone who wants to join the party can take a stab at init as well.

[Oh My God]

Using his cloak to shield his eyes from the sun, Mattias dozes.

[VestigeArcanist]

Getting away from the brawl, Thomas stops and dismounts. He turns to his new found flock and raises his arms. Let us pray and suplicate our will to our god. He motions them to sit. Though many of you do not know Wee Jas, all men and women need their diety. She is both mother, and father, champion and friend. She gives out punishment and shows mercy to those who repents and atones. Turns solemn. Who amongst us has not sinned? I have done so, I shamefully admit. But i am forgiven. I now have my goddess, who is my merciful champion, and friend. Looks up again. I offer you a baptism of renewal, and repentence. Who here wishes to live a new life?

[moritheil]

From the conveyance, Rurithel looks upon the Archbishop's display of power, and tsks. "Right in front of everyone," she sighs. As the main problem seems to be settled by Finnlay's display of largesse, she makes no move to exit the coach.

To Matthias, she says softly, "Well, let me put it another way for you then. It would not look good if we did nothing for the concerns of justice, and this was later advertised. It may be a backcountry - with no magistrate, even - but we are here now."

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay laughs.
"Hain't hyu a schtrong vun?"

He tries to pull his arms out and wrap one arm around the back of Will's head and the other around the front.

[roll0]

If successful, he'll twist and use his strength and legs and Will's weight to force him out of the hug and onto Will.

"Henny rules or are ve chust gun at it?"
[roll1]

[Vladislav]

Hhhnghhh is all Will has to say.

As the crowd cheers him on, he holds on to the Edgewater heir with all his might, but, whether it's the sweat or Finnlay's boost of raw power, he breaks free ... and then slips behind Will to grab him. Just at it seems he has the peasant, Will smacks his elbow hard into Finn's teeth [4 damage], pushing him back.

The crowd goes wild. The bishop's attempts to lead a prayer are forgotten, at least for now, this is just too exciting. Will lunges at Finnlay again, twisting his wrist.

[roll]1d20+10[roll] vs. [roll0]

[Vladislav]

[[fumbled the first roll, but as the second came up so low, Will auto-wins this round]]. He grabs hold of the general again, manhandling him quite unceremoniously.

[TechnoScrabble]

((Nonlethal or lethal damage?))
"Ah, so punchink iz hallowed?" Finnlay grins and twists in a different direction, pushing his elbows out from under Will's arms this time.

[roll0]

If this works, he will use his White Raven Tactical Strike Maneuver to give Will and good strong punch across the head, coming in at an angle and following the old adage of 'punch through the front, aiming at the back' to try and knock Will out.

[roll1]
[roll2] + [roll3] for tactical strike.

[Vladislav]

[[nonlethal]]

Will yelps in pain as his kidneys take a beating. [[took 13 damage]] You feel his heavy breath on your cheeks, can almost taste his sweat, as he pushes into you, trying to make you loose your footing and pin you against the ground.

[roll0] vs. [roll1]

As Finnlay is pinned by his heavy opponent, the crowd. Goes. Wild. Best entertainment they had in years. Even the potential hanging of the drow would not have provided them with such entertainment.

[WyvernLord]

Poul looks on with a smile on his face. I swing down off the horse.
"Anyone want to go a round with me."

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay laughs and laughs through the slight trickle of blood coming from his mouth. This is fun! No, really!

He leans up in whispers in Will's ear, "Leverage," before curling his knees and bringing them up into Will's gut and one arm around Will while the other one pushes off the ground in an attempt to roll over on top of Will and shift the weight.

[roll0]

If this works, he'll wrap his arms around Will's arms and his legs around Will's legs in an attempt to immobilize the man, no matter how awkward it looks.

[roll1]

[Oh My God]

" Justice? " Mattias asks without stirring from his lazy perch, the question punctuated by the roaring cheer of the mob. " The nobleman bribed a duly assembled tribunal of the local respectables from executing the sentence they deemed meet and proper." Another roar from the crowd; Finn must have just taken another blow to the mouth. " Never mind that we thwarted their judgement without any evidence of our own, or the fact that this entire farce is rapidly devolving into a game of Stand Down. We've brought no justice here. Only entertainment."

[Vladislav]

Will grunts and resists the Warblade with all his might, and keeps him pinned long enough to count slowly "one... two...". A short pause follows, in which Will's lips move like those of a cow chewing cud, until another peasant helps out, "three".

Will releases his grip and stands up, raising his hands triumphantly, as his friends cheer him on this achievement and exchange high-fives.

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay stands up and dusts himself off, grinning.
"Very goot. Very goot."
He tosses the man a platinum coin, "Buy youself a goot drink."

(Thinking to himself)Strong, takes the initiative. Didn't bother to explain, good...With training he will be a good blade.

"Or perheps hef zumbody train hyu to use a svord und schield? Hyu vould make a great varrior!" Finnaly smiles and puts his helmet back on, remounting his horse.

He turns to Thomas and the elf.
"Hy tink maybe de elf schould ride vith me ontil de schpell vears uff, den he kan eksplain vat heppened, und Hy kan let him go."

[Vladislav]

Poul looks on with a smile on his face. I swing down off the horse.
"Anyone want to go a round with me."
Will, after the initial moment of excitement wore off, finds himself limping, clutching his side, and spitting blood from the punch Finnlay gave him, so he doesn't volunteer. He's a lot more eager to spend his new platinum coin than risk further internal bleeding in a hunt for another one. And no one else seems to be the wrestling afficionado.

Slowly, the folk return to the prayer led by the Bishop, discussing his cermon.

What did he say, weej as?
No, Wee Jas, the godess of ...
I always thought it was a god ...
Yeah, me too ...
Baptism? Is this when they cut off your ...
No, stupid, it's when they pour water ...

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay sees the blood and calls after Will.
"Vait! Hy kannot leaff hyu bleedink from a friendly kompetition! Surely Tomas, or anodder uf my kompanions kould heal hyu?" Finnlay looks hopefully towards Thomas.

[WyvernLord]

I smirk at them.
"That's what I thought too scared of me."
Says the skinny noble.

[moritheil]

" Justice? " Mattias asks without stirring from his lazy perch, the question punctuated by the roaring cheer of the mob. " The nobleman bribed a duly assembled tribunal of the local respectables from executing the sentence they deemed meet and proper." Another roar from the crowd; Finn must have just taken another blow to the mouth. " Never mind that we thwarted their judgement without any evidence of our own, or the fact that this entire farce is rapidly devolving into a game of Stand Down. We've brought no justice here. Only entertainment."

Rurithel frowns, though Matthias cannot see it. "This is not what I had in mind, either, as it cuts through the issue of guilt or innocence entirely. There is some precedent for blood price and paying property damage, of course, but I agree with you that is not really what happened."

She cranes her neck upward, after a moment, staring at the roof of the coach. "A duly appointed tribunal of the people? Is that how things are done in the north? In Galadorn, nobles have the duty to mete out justice of old. I am no barrister, but strictly speaking, in the absence of a magistrate actually assigned to the area, it might be within Lord Finnlay's rights to pass judgment - though of course Lord Kallen surely outranks all. And a trial for witchcraft is an ecclesiastic matter, so if the Archbishop cared to call an Inquisition he would be the ultimate authority here. It may not be justice, exactly, but I do not think we can say that anyone has acted outside his station."

[WyvernLord]

I scan the crowd and sigh. Walking over to the carriage he speaks up.
"What are you talking about over here? Something interesting hopefully."

[moritheil]

I scan the crowd and sigh. Walking over to the carriage he speaks up.
"What are you talking about over here? Something interesting hopefully."

"I find it interesting, at least. I was outlining for Master Blackhand the relevant law - which may be boiled down to the idea that we have the Archbishop present at an accusation of witchcraft, so almost any degree of interference with the locals is lawful." Rurithel sighs. "Though I must agree that doesn't make it justice. One does wonder if the crimes were committed or not."

"Really, though," she says after looking around carefully to ensure they are not the subject of attention from the guards or passengers she might fear to trust, "What is interesting is that we were spied upon by a guard earlier."

[WyvernLord]

"I must say this did not turn out like I had hoped. I was trying to make sure that this was all legal. In a way it now is. You can't string a man up for grabbing a chicken. It has to be a cow at least."
Poul gives a sad laugh.
"Back to the guard. What did you see. Something fun perhaps."

[moritheil]

Rurithel pauses for a moment. "I only verified that it was actually a guard spying upon us. Finnlay is the one who can tell you what he looks like - or not, as the case may be. I will share more as I am able. I really wished then we had been able to grab him, but maybe it's best we did not. This matter begins to look large and ugly rather than merely strange."

[Oh My God]

"Where I'm from, the thin upper crust is real damn thin. Judgement is passed down by a Seven of the clan ring of chosen leaders. Maybe twenty of those a clan; the best huntsmen, craftsmen, ranchers, warriors. The most important for dealing with crimes, of course, is the lawspeaker, the one who knows our traditions and stories best. A free man has certain rights. To be judged by the law of the people, rather'n just by some toff in a pointy hat is one of 'em."

The huntsman leans his head down over the edge of the carriages roof, so that his eyes are just peeking over the edge at the elf inside. "As to the other thing... When do you think you -aren't- under surveillance?"

[moritheil]

Rurithel meets his gaze and does not look away. "Farce or no, I do not think the man saved from hanging will complain overmuch. We are watched, to be sure, but to know it is the guard is one more piece of information. When we have assembled more pieces, perhaps they will tell us something. Something that was not obvious."

[Oh My God]

" A murderer, too, would not complain the abrogation of justice. To be glad one has escaped punishment is fairly well universal trait. It signifies little."

[moritheil]

Rurithel nods. "This much, we agree upon. I merely say that nothing will come of the distinction." She pauses, looking at Matthias more closely. "Do you have a passion for justice, then?"

[Oh My God]

He shrugs, a gesture altogether odd given his current inversion. " I would not say passion, no. But it touches my life. A hunter is what I am, and that has on more than one occasion meant tracking down someone who thought to flout justice and slip off."

He laughs, once, though the humor it contains is questionable. "Matters of justice, like most such intangibles, are pleasant enough to think on while sitting in a blind for hours, waiting for a deer. Keeps the mind from rusting."

[moritheil]

The elf smiles at the upside-down huntsman. "A commendable concern, however academic it may wind up being. Tell me, is hunting men so similar to hunting animals? You speak of them as the same."

[Oh My God]

" Only in the precise methods one uses to hunt them. Most beasts of the wood and the dale know enough not to walk in to a trap, for one." There is a less than pleasant ring to -that-, for certain. " That we give ourselves airs by pretending we're something better, or more, than the other animals is nothing more than puffing ourselves up. And, to be honest, that isn't even a trait unique to people. Consider the peacock."

After eying the impromptu service, and the slowly mounting frustration of Tomlin, the huntsman fixes his gaze on the skinny nobleman. " What do you think, Poul? Where stands the divide between man and beast?"

[WyvernLord]

Poul looks up at the hunter and smiles sadly.
"Our bloodlust out-matches most animals I've seen. Even out war beasts are trained to be aggressive by us. Animals do have their own laws and fights. But I have never seen an animal that attacks for no other reason then just because they feel like it."

[VestigeArcanist]

Slowly, the folk return to the prayer led by the Bishop, discussing his cermon.

What did he say, weej as?
No, Wee Jas, the godess of ...
I always thought it was a god ...
Yeah, me too ...
Baptism? Is this when they cut off your ...
No, stupid, it's when they pour water ...

Turns to the crowd. Perhaps the power of the Goddess is in doubt, oh ye of little faith! She shall show her magnificent powers, and act through the lowest of the low, as she is powerful, and raises up those who have been cast down. Let us look to the man whom was accused of atrocious misdeeds! Turns to the elf. Stand, speak your name, confess you sins and ask for forgiveness from the goddess and from her church!

[Vladislav]

My name be Mograbeen, and I don't really have any sins to confess. Except for that chicken. For which I was absolved already. He sneaks a look at the villages recounting the silver given to them, Coin makes for a better absolution than gods, don't you think, Bishop?

[TechnoScrabble]

"It's nize dat hyu're enjoyink youself, preachink to de masses, goot sir priest, but dis man needs healink. Giff dem a miracle, eh?" Finnlay keeps a careful eye on the bleeding victor. It wouldn't be right to leave a man like that if you didn't mean to.

He then thinks to ask the elf:
"Mograbeen, vy'd hyu urn from us after Hy paeed you freedom?"

[VestigeArcanist]

Mograbeen! You speak true, but your cynicism hardens your heart! Be made pure and perfect! Have your evil stuck down and give your life to the Ruby Goddess! Fall down! Thomas taps the head of Mograbeen. (OOC note: Mograbeen is still under the effect of my suggestion spell)

[Vladislav]

[[ the suggestion was for him to come close to you, which he did, and is still doing. It's not a 'do anything I say' carte blanche ]]

Bishop, I'd rather not. Surely even your godess acknowledges the rights of ... other gods?

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay looks from Thomas to Mograbeen. What was more important, answers and an injured man, or preaching and religious debate?

He storms up to the pair of them, over six feet and 200 pounds of man, even without the armor.

"Dere iz an injured man over dere vo may be dyink because Hy punched him in de vrong schpot... Mograbeen here ran avay as soon as ve freed him... Ve need a healerr, und ansvers... UND HYU TVO OUR VASTINK OUR TIME VITH A RELIGIOUS DEBATE!"

He says all of this without any anger crossing his face. Finnlay can be patient, but he is a man of action and there is currently a man bleeding internally.

[VestigeArcanist]

To Finnlay. You fought the man, you are the man who injured him. Why do you not heal him yourself? Thomas turns back to the crowd. You gravely injure a man and you expect god to heal him, when you act without humility or repentence? This, my flock, is the sin of presumption! Commanding god this way and that! You say 'It is not I who should follow god, but god who shall follow me!' Suddenly Quiet, Thomas' voice slowly becomes louder. Woe to you all who act in presumption, for my goddess is the Goddess of Death, and Death always has its reckoning over that which has life!

But come, bring this victor! My flock, see that even those who are strong requires the help of my goddess to be anything more than a bloodly pulp. All those who have the true and steadfast belief shall be heal! And you, Mograbeen, pray over him and see if your god answers! And you will see that it is Wee Jas who has domain over all living things!

[Oh My God]

Mattias whistles, long and low, in obvious appreciation of how the Bishop handles the presumption of the Brute even as he listens to the Blade answer his question. Blackhand rattles off a list;" Murder shrikes. Mountain lions. Troglydytes. I know for a fact they torture their prey afore they eat them. Certainly more, too. Even in wretched hate, there is nothing special about man. Or elf or dwarf, for that matter."

[TechnoScrabble]

"So dis iz about gotts und der powers, den?" Finnlay walks over to his horse and fishes out a potion of cure moderate wounds, and then holds it out to Will.
"If de potion heals him, does dat make it a gott? Veildink such power over man und reality? Do not rely on gotts or faith or miracles! Gotts hef been schlain by mere men, driven by der own desires! It iz de great power uf beink mortal, dat hyu kan change tinks for de betta vith noddink more ten you hends!"

[Vladislav]

Will seems a bit confused whether he should drink the potion or accept healing from the priest.


And you, Mograbeen, pray over him and see if your god answers!My God answers all prayers, even if oftentimes the answer is No. Not much different from yours, 'spose.

[VestigeArcanist]

Come Will. Reject the blasphemer whom you have defeated. Come before me, proclaim your faith and be healed!

[Vladislav]

Will hesitantly approaches. So ... is Wee Jas like St. Cuthbert's wife or daughter or something? 'cause our Priest said we should only trust in St. Cuthbert's might and reason. And Pelor too, 'cause he has Pallidins and stuff.

[WyvernLord]

Making a pointed effort to ignore what is happening between the priest and the warrior. Poul shakes his head at the arguement that is rapidly heating up.
"A fair point. The problem with that is we have the intelligence to accomplish that goal. And the intelligence to solve problems other animals are especially suited for. Few are the things humans, or elves, could not do that animals can. And in return for those abilities we do not have they have weaknesses of their own."

"What are Troglydytes?"

[VestigeArcanist]

There are many gods, Pelor and St. Cuthbert are great ones. But Wee Jas is the greatest, as she looks over our ancestors in the afterlife. Only she has dominion over both the living and the dead. Turning grave and growing more confident. All the horrors of the world and beyond this world flee before her goodness. She is the patron of Order, Peace, Death and Beauty! Even the most evil and vilest of creatures know her name and know that she is the Ruby Lady! Vampires, zombies, werewolves, wizards, men and elf all know that she has domain over all. even Pelor and St. Cuthbert are her allies in Law and Justice! To be protected from all these things, look for protection in the goddess!

[TechnoScrabble]

"Doesn' Nerul also lord over death? Und doesn' each gott hef der own realm for schpirits to go to ven dey no longer hef an earddly vessel?"

Finnlay continues to hold out the potion to Will.

"Dis kost me tree hundred gold at a temple uf Pelor, konsider it a victory gift. Along vith de koin, Hy mean."

[Vladislav]

Will shudders at the mention of Vampires and Zombies, and the mention of the potion coming from the temple of Pelor finally swings the scales. He uncorks the bottle and gulps it down.

If anyone wants to smash the bottle or do something equally surprising, I can rewind and give them the chance to do so. [roll0]

[VestigeArcanist]

Do not allow blasphem Will! Drop that bottle in the name of Wee Jas!

Spell craft check DC 11

Cast Command. Drop Item. Will save 18

[Vladislav]

Or rather, tries to gulp it down, when the priest commands him to drop it and it shatters into pieces on the Dusty Road. Forlorn, Will looks at the sticky mess at his feet. Why'd you make me do that!? he asks, wide-eyed.

[VestigeArcanist]

Thomas composes himself from the rash action that he took. It is not in my power to do such things. Only the Ruby Goddess has the power to work invisibly, to hold you from blasphemy. Pray that you have the strength to resist in the future, lest she does not stay your hand. Turning to the crowd. See the power of the goddess! She acts before our very eyes! Can you not believe! Wee Jas is the most powerful of the gods, and I am her choose Vicar! Let any who dispute this step forward! Let the priests of these lesser gods come forth, so I may show you all the superiority of Wee Jas! Do so, or come forth, be baptized, and believe!

[WyvernLord]

After looking around for guards or servants. Poul listens to what is happening with a tired look on his face.
"It least we will never be wanting for a distraction. Just point him in a direction and off he runs."

[Oh My God]

" Picture a shorter, skinnier dwarf, but covered all in hair and with a predilection for climbing trees. Eats fruits. Also, bands of them gather together and hunt their cousins, club them to death with rocks, and then gnosh on their bones." At the mention of sub-humans eating each other, Mattias is reminded that its been a while since he's eaten, and he retrieves a twist of jerky to chew on. It... is the same sort of food he'd fed to his wolf earlier that day. He glances over at the cluster#$@* that's still in progress, and heaves a deep sigh. And he could have been smoking a cigar this whole time. He sets about righting this wrong, and then delivers the following around the stogie in his mouth.

" If I can impart one thing about the animals of the world it is not to underestiamte their intelligence simply because it is of a different order than your own. Consider how many you know ruined by drink, or gambling, or pride. You might say that a deer is not clever, but neither is it -stupid-, and know that you will never run with such surety or grace. Beyond that... once you've seen a bird no bigger than your hand spiking a lizard onto a thorny branch, and watching its death throes? You'll know that it doesn't take much wit to be the utmost evil."

[WyvernLord]

Poul chuckles at the hunters speech.
"The debates of philosophy. They never cease to depress. Perhaps the only difference between us and animals is that we make that distinction."
I sigh and look at the mass of people soon to breakout in a fight.
"Those creatures sound horrible. Must be unpleasant dealing with them. Almost as unpleasant as dealing with nobility and priests."

[Oh My God]

" On the contrary, they're lovely things. To see them play is to know what happiness and freedom are. Never have I seen a smile so genuine. But its two sides of the same coin.". And with that said, he blows a smoke ring, it's florid scent spreading as it grows and collapses in to the air.

[WyvernLord]

Poul raises his eyebrow at that remark.
"Debating what makes humans unique is really a pointless task isn't it. Look at any of our best traits. You can find them in an animal, or an elf for intelligence. You know much about the wilds of the world. It will be a pleasure to talk to you in the future."
I walk over to the crowd and shout out,
"Are you finished yet? We still have a ways to go."

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay looks at the potion splattered across the ground and sighs.

"Listen, Hy know you side hurts, but hyu schould be fine. Hy only punched hyu, it's not like a svord vound or hennyddink. Sorry about de bleedink, sorry about de potion hall over you foot, und sorry dis krazy decided to screv vith you head usink magic," he says, one arm around Will's shoulders.

He remounts his horse and looks back at Mograbeen.

"Are hyu komink vith us or headink back to doze voods?"

[moritheil]

Rurithel looks upon the scene and rubs her temples. "This stopover has taken far longer than I anticipated and revealed things about us probably better left unshown. I fear the good Archbishop may be a little too eager to demonstrate the power of his faith, and Lord Finnlay, though a good man, seems to have some strange notions about proportion. That potion of his was probably worth more than the entire village.

"We should probably talk details some time so we do not work at cross-purposes in the future."

[Oh My God]

Mattias just laughs a little at this and retakes his place on the carriage roof, smoking his cigar, and resumes the interminable wait.

[Vladislav]

By the Silverbeard, are ye going to be fighting over their souls for long, or are we going to get moving? Taday? Tomlin rumbles.

[VestigeArcanist]

Very well, delaying further will bring no gain to anyone. Thomas quietly turns to those who congregated, baptized those who wished, blessed those who remained loyal to the local gods. He then turns to Mograbeen and asks, What of you, Mograbeen? I release you from your bounds. But where will you go? You can go back to you normal life, until the untrusting masses persecute you again. Or you may come with me, and take a chance for a greater life?

Thomas breaks off his spell.

[Vladislav]

WHAT!? We are not taking this outlaw to court with us. The dwarven commander bellows.

Don't get worked up, master chief, I am the least of your problems. The drow nods to the priest and starts walking toward the forest. When the alternative is the King's justice with a side of Dwarven temper, I'll take the untrusting masses any day, father.

Hrm. Best check your pockets before he leaves, see nothing's missing. Tomlin advises. They're all thieves and scoundrels.

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay sighs, already on his horse, and checks his belt pouches and saddlebags. Before resuming his position near the carriage and his dour face.

[WyvernLord]

Smiling now that everyone is back on the road. Poul swings back onto his horse and takes a position near the carriage.

[VestigeArcanist]

Fair well, then. Thomas readies himself to leave.

[Vladislav]

You leave the congregation of peasants to their own devices, richer in coin but - at least for one of them - slightly poorer in health. But he assures you he's been struck in brawls before, and surely natural healing will do the work sooner rather than later.

After another hour of quiet and methodic advance, the scout returns to your group again. Five knights, under a peace standard.

Well, let's see what they're up to. Tomlin says. His guards make sure their weapons are in order, just in case.

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay's hand edges to his sword, then backs away upon hearing of a peace standard. Still, he rides a bit closer to the carriage.

[Oh My God]

The gentle rasp of the huntsman's snores are audible from the roof of the carriage.

[WyvernLord]

I slow my horse down and move behind the carriage.

[VestigeArcanist]

Thomas says with the carriage, but remains visible and alert.

[moritheil]

Rurithel cracks open the window once more, the better to hear the scout's report. She decides against closing it against the snores of the huntsman, hoping to hear a bit of what is said when these knights come closer.

[Vladislav]

As the riders approach, you note the scout may have exaggerated somewhat - there are five of them alright, but only one is a knight, his polished full plate and painted shield being a giveaway of his social status. There others are guards or men-at-arms, clad in breastplates and armed with spears, and the fifth is an unarmed and lightly armored cross between herald, page and squire.

It's this young fellow who hails Tomlin with a heavy foreign accent. Greetings, soldiers of Galadorn. My Lord here is Ignat Velzer, Knight of Toldur, seeking passage through your lands as an emissary. He hands over a rolled up scroll, and Tomlin chews on his beard as he unfurls and reads it. His eyes glisten as he gets to the end.

So, this Ignat is on his way to Kronburg to see our most pious King, is he? The dwarf finally asks. The armored knight, not at all bothered to be referred to in third person at his presence, never shifts an inch in his saddle. The page, or squire, or herald, nods.

[WyvernLord]

I ride up to the side of the carriage away from the knights.
"Ignat Velzer, sent on a diplomatic mission. Is king Lucas seeking war?"

[Oh My God]

The snoring has stopped, and to the casual observer, there's no one on top of the carriage. No sir, no one at all.



Whether hiding or move silently is needed is questionable, since there's no line of sight to Matty and he isn't moving, but I'm rolling it anyhow.

Hide: [roll0]
Move Silently: [roll1]

[moritheil]

Seeing Poul ride up, and overhearing the word "war," Rurithel strains to listen even more intently.

[VestigeArcanist]

Thomas à Becket stays where he is, waiting for something interesting to happen, while keeping a close eye on the mysterious Tomlin.

[Vladislav]

Well, Tomlin says, folding the writ and giving it back to the squire, Seems to be in order. Kronburg is that way. Off you go.

Will King Galen grant us audience? The knight speaks for the first time, voice much heavier with a foreign accent than that of his servant.

You asked for a right of passage, sir Knight, and it was granted. Tomlin pointedly ignores the question, and motions for everyone to move on.

After the Ignat Velzer and his party disappear behind a road bend in a cloud of dust, the Dwarf laughs. His Majesty is in Plessie by now. Let the fool ride back and forth a bit. He seems very please with himself.

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay makes no sign as to how he feels about the encounter, moving on in silence.

[moritheil]

Finding herself able to work in secret, Rurithel points surreptitiously at the departing knight, whispering softly.

"Beware, Knight of Toldur. Though the dwarf is of your country, he does not truly trust you."

She listens silently for any reaction before the movement of the coach, and the knight's party, take them out of range.

OOC: That is Message, which she will cast only if there is no one else in the coach to observe her doing so. This is the reason for the questions I posed about disguising voice in Message in the OOC thread.

[Eonas]

Finally breaking his silence, Kallen coughs loudly and says, not without a hint of resignation, "Well, we'd best be moving onward." and in an undertone adds "to a wedding I knew nothing about until a few hours ago."

[Vladislav]

Whether or not the Knight hears Rurithel's message, his departing back gives no sign of letting know of his emotions. You continue on your way, and reach Plessie by sundown without further misadventures. The convoy makes up the winding path through King's Hunting Grounds, where every misstep is fraught with dangers of bear traps or worse, and as you cross the last row of ancient oaks, the fortress reveals itself before you. Yes, King Galen's summer retreat is as well-fortified as any border garrison. Guards walk along the crennelated battlements, and eyes observe you through arrow slits and murder holes as you pass the double set of portcullises, first in the outer wall, then the inner.

In the courtyard, you notice Pricess Joanna's carriage, empty, and her luggage cart as it's being unloaded. It is possible that some of you can't help but wonder which of the crates holds her wedding dress; others are maybe not so curious. Servants are willing to attend to your needs and make you comfortable after the journey.

You are requested* to attend the presence of His Majesty in the Small Throne Room within the hour.

* required, really, but hey, courtesy

[Oh My God]

Once the tiny caravan grinds to a halt, the Blackhand is off the top of the carriage in a flash, his boots silent on the well-tended turf. Ebeneezer ( the giant, loping wolf that had been following the group at a discreet distance ) had been much closer to the carriage in the last twenty minutes or so, obviously concerned with avoiding any tragic misunderstandings with the guard of the castle. With a whistle and a nod, the ranger directs Eb around back, to wait by the kitchen door. Mattias has a passing familiarity with one of the cooks, and knows he can count on the lad... young man ( gods, time flies ) to throw the wolf the proverbial and literal bone.

His friend looked after, the huntsman hefts his haversack ( his sole baggage ), and follows the prince wherever he winds up going, seemingly to keep him company. At a point when they're not under any (detectable) observation from Galen's men, he notes," Could be worse," to the rightful heir of the land, though he doesn't elaborate on the ways in which it might, in fact, be worse.

[WyvernLord]

Poul slips his magical bags into a box. I tell a servant to put the box on my bed.
"King Galen wants to see us already. I'll be waiting for the slower of you."
Poul smirks and walks into the main keep.

I'm going to wait for the others wherever I can get that is closest to the spider.
Preemptive listen check to over hear what he is discussing.
[roll0]

[moritheil]

Rurithel takes a moment to adjust her sword belt and attire before disembarking from the coach. She directs a few servants to unload her luggage carefully, then looks about the courtyard as if trying to orient herself in her new settings. "I will first see to my new lodgings, and perhaps change out of this armor," she replies to Poul as he strides off. "See you soon."

She peers briefly at the coach that carried her, the luggage, and the courtyard. As she follows the porters in to her new lodgings, she looks intently at each hallway, noting where the exits are.

OOC: Rurithel has cast detect magic before stepping out of the coach. She will walk and concentrate, determining the presence or absence of magic auras at every location along the way to her rooms. If there are any present and she can pause for a few seconds without slowing down the procession of the porters, she will note the number of auras and the power of the strongest one. She will not linger to make more exact determinations.

[Eonas]

Kallen feebly allows himself to be taken wherever the servants desire, not even bothering to thank them. When Mattias says to him "It could be worse", Kallen stares at the man mutely, as if to divine what he means by this, but remains silent. The prince's expression thanks Blackhand for being beside him, then he says softly "You know, Blackhand, it feels odd to marry someone against my will in order to gain a right that should have been mine." Without waiting for Mattias' reply, Kallen lapses into a self-absorbed reverie, his eyes pallidly gazing at nowhere in particular.

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay stables his horse and takes up post right next to Kallen, following the true royal everywhere and keeping a close eye on any threats. Any who look at his face find their stare returned with a steely gaze.

[Oh My God]

Mattias nods to Finnlay as he rejoins them from the stable, and frowns at the words of his employer.

" I would imagine it'd feel odd to marry anyone, under any circumstances, against your will. " An expressive shrug. " Not nobility, though."

[Vladislav]

Rurithel
Most of the guards that were accompanying you are carrying something with a faint aura of Conjuration. Not their arms or weapons though...
Tomlin's Axe, shield and armor are magical. The latter two seem to have no aura beyond that which enhances their defensive properties, but the former has something else which you can't quite put your finger on.
Finally, walking down the hallway, you catch glimpse of someone who you think might be Olivia Ledayne. She's shrouded in big tasteless blanket-like robes radiating faint Abjuration.
Speaking of which, there are blotches of Abjuration on some doors you pass by. Almost every fourth door, actually.

You arrive at the presence of the King only to find out that a certain Ignat Velzer beat you to it. Courtiers whisper how he arrived at the gates after whipping his horses near-dead, and not too pleased about it.

The conversation between the king and the emissary, if one could call it that, is rather one sided and consists of the knight accusing the King of Galadorn of stirring the peace, manipulating and machinating the good subjects of Toldur, supporting bandits, bribing nobles, and general warmongering. Your own king, accompanied by all his usual retinue, seems bored by this. During the knight's speech he whispers in Cardinal Bollard's ear, what Poul and Mattias recognize as intructions for handling the wedding.

Well, the knight of Toldur does manage to surprise him at the end. After reciting the full list of crimes in which King Lucas accuses your rules, he flings a gauntlet at his feet, challenging him to a duel at dawn on behalf of his liege, then walks out, leaving the king to frown and the local nobility to argue whether the insolent knight should be cut down for insulting the king, or whether his challenge should be accepted, and if so, by whom (given the knight's reputable martial prowess, volunteers are few).

[moritheil]

Rurithel frowns at the scene, having slipped in just after Sir Velzer's rant began. She whispers aside to Kallen, "I suppose he does not know of the festivities - but still, is his mission intended to be a suicide? He cannot think that a king need answer such disrespect directly, even with a champion. Nor can he imagine this can be overlooked. It's almost a pity he does not appear versed in the subtle arts, or I would offer to take his challenge as a bladesinger duel."

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay observes this all without comment, but anyone near enough to look beneath his helmet may notice him wincing when certain crimes are mentioned, specifically the ones regarding the slaughter of the loyal Edgewaters. It may have been years ago, but it still pains him to hear of his family's fall.

[WyvernLord]

Poul strokes his chin. Then glances at his hand.
"I wish I could grow a beard that would look good."
I wait for the "king" to call us in.

[moritheil]

Rurithel frowns at Poul's incongruous remark. "Do you think the king will simply have that man killed?" she asks Finnlay.

[TechnoScrabble]

"It vouldn' surprise me too much. Hy highly doubt hennyone vould vant a fair fight vith Sir Velzer," Finnlay grunts.

Then he thinks for a moment, and coughs quietly.
"Tough Hy do vonder about doze issues in Toldur. Hyu figure he'd be hall chummy-chum vith dat lot."

[Eonas]

Kallen observes the scene almost blandly, carelessly, simply waiting for Gallen to call him in. He glances at his friends to gauge their reaction to all this, but appears hardly interested by what he finds, so Kallen shifts his attention back to his uncle. A shadow flickers past his face as he hears what Finnlay says, but quickly Kallen shakes it off, as a cat shakes the unwanted presence of water off his fur.

[Vladislav]

As the knight leaves, the King raises his hand to silence the congregation, then turns to Kallen. Ah, here you are, dear nephew. I thought surprising you, but I hear Joanna could not bear any delay in professing her love, bypassing all wards we placed on her. So you know why you are here. And I see you brought friends. Finnlay, Bishop Becket, Lady Dawnmist, Master Gunnarson, Master Blackhand, good to see you. Well, what is a wedding without guests, I always say, Cardinal.

Indeed, your Majesty. Bollard does what appears to be his best impression of a sagely nod, the edges of his collar shifting only slightly.

So, now you are all here, what do you make of ... this? He points at the gauntlet, still lying on the floor, untouched, courtiers keeping distance as if it was a poisoned snake ready to pounce.

[VestigeArcanist]

It appears to be a gauntlet, either a gift or a curse given to you by the gods working through this messenger. Shifts to Bollard. Surely his Eminence would agree.

[WyvernLord]

"It has more meaning then that. If you decline you are showing cowardice. If you accept and lose, well that is not good. If you win it shows strength. If you refuse and inprison him or otherwise inconvenience him it shows that you are a dishonorable coward. Or it is an insult to the other king. Either way it does not turn out well."
Taking a quick break in my speech to look at everyone. I turn back to the "king".
"I'd recommend you win."

[Eonas]

Kallen still says nothing, shifting awkwardly on his feet. He looks around for a chair, finds one, shuffles towards it, and sits down. He glances at his uncle, then at his friends, then at his uncle again, then lets his gaze linger on the ground in front of him. Gulping, Kallen opens his mouth as if to say something but shuts it again. He tries again and succeeds in spitting out "Wh-what if -" but stops mid-sentence, his face a deep red. He sinks back into his chair, abashed at himself.

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay bows his head to Galen when his name is spoken, but remains silent. He looks to the gauntlet then to the exit that Ignatz left though, and nods slightly.

[Vladislav]

It appears to be a gauntlet, either a gift or a curse given to you by the gods working through this messenger. Shifts to Bollard. Surely his Eminence would agree.Bollard quickly turns to the King as if seeking approval, then nods at that comment as well.


"If you refuse and inprison him or otherwise inconvenience him it shows that you are a dishonorable coward. Or it is an insult to the other king."
Galen leans back in his throne and straightens the (replica) Crown of Kings on his brow. That hotheaded scoundrel and his lord already think me dishonorable coward; have been for the last twenty years or so. Never ruffled my feathers yet.


"I'd recommend you win."He closes his eyes for a moment and clenches his fingers on the hilt of his sword.
Mattias, Poul "Oh, I would" he whispers softly.

Olivia Ledane interferes, pushing her wrinkled face out of these ridiculous robe-blankets in which she's wrapped. It is not for a King to answer this challenge of a common brigand, your Majesty.


Wh-what if -
What if what? Speak up, nephew, don't be shy.

[Eonas]

Kallen hesitates a moment, then stands up, staring his uncle in the eye. "What if, Gallen, I don't want to marry Joanna?" He looks around to his friends, encouraged by their presence, and continues: "What if I'm tired of not being acknowledged as rightful heir to the throne? What if I don't want to marry somebody against my will to 'gain' a right that's already mine?." Here Kallen unintentionally glances at Mattias Blackhand for a split second before returning his gaze to Gallen. " What if I told you right now that I think you're a usurper, a murderer, and a fraud?" Clearly agitated by his own display of boldness, but unwilling to back down, Kallen keeps his glare focused on Gallen, waiting for his reply.

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay's eyes go wide with surprise and he places himself between Kallen and Galen, shifting his view about to keep an eye on any threats and holding out his shield to protect the true heir.

[Vladislav]

How dare you insult ... Tomlin draws his axe, while the rest of the guards and courtiers seem shocked. Galen raises his hand to silence their murmur, snapping his fingers.

Rurithel, Thomas
The snapping of fingers is actually a Quickened Abjuration spell of some sorts

And here I was, thinking your indecisiveness was a prelude to sound tactical advice. You spurn my beloved daughter, you decline my hospitality, and worst of all, you prove you have less sense than I thought. Leave us then. Begone from our sight. As for the rest ... He surveys the row of Kallen's friends next. Unless one of you intends to proposition to Lady Dawnmist, there seems to be no wedding, so your presence here is even more redundant than it was five minutes ago.

[VestigeArcanist]

Ajatated, Thomas swiftly bow. May we beg of our leave mi'lord. He speaks quickly as he moves to push Kallen out of the court, upset by such antics, and mildly fearful that they will all be arrested and executed.

[WyvernLord]

I bow and go to my room to get my equipment.

[Oh My God]

Mattias, disgusted, manages to not slap his own forehead, but only just. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, he feels overcome by the urge to do something permanent and painful to the rightful ruler of the land. Instead, he speaks through his teeth at his cohorts," Finn, take his lordship back to the carriage. Poul, fetch everyones things there, on the bounce."

Those words dispensed, the huntsman flourishes a bow to Galen, delivers an only slightly accented," Your majesty," and is himself on the move, swiftly, to recover Eb and meet up with the others, fates willing, at the carriage.

[moritheil]

Rurithel turns white-faced, opens her mouth, then closes it. Any words she was framing about applicable precedent to the king's need to answer such a challenge are quickly forgotten. Offering a very formal curtsey to the offended king, she manages a shaky, "By your leave, majesty." She leaves quickly, not eager to be seen in public like this.

Rurithel exits the audience hall heading directly to her room, rather than out the same exit as Kallen and Thomas.

[Eonas]

Kallen allows himself to be transported by Becket out of the court, but not without giving Galen one last glare.

[Vladislav]

Anyone who wants to pick stuff from their room rather than go directly outside, is accompanied by a Dwarven Guard, who, in a typical charming dwarven manner, reminds them to be bloody quick about it.

[VestigeArcanist]

Let us move in haste. Thomas continues to lead Kallen by the shoulder out of the palace. Once everybody is outside, and out of earshot from those whom he does not want to hear, he says to Kallen. It would be wise not to tarry long here. We shall go to the great temple of Wee Jas. It is a safe place free from the grasp of the king. I have many friends there.

[WyvernLord]

I don't spare a glance at the dwarf relying on my sense of hearing to know where he is.
Once to my room I put on my armor and conceal it under a cloak. Striding to the courtyard he nestles himself and his bags in the carriage.

When the carriage starts rumbling out of the fort I speak in a hushed tone.
"What in the nine hells possessed you to do that idiotic thing. Never tip your hand. He knows about your ambition now and secrecy was our only advantage."
With that I lean back with my haversack next to my right arm.

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay nods and guides Kallen to his carriage, keep a watchful eye on everyone nearby. Once Kallen is tucked away in the carriage, he will saddle and climb onto Salvi.

"Henny place iz safer ten here right now. Let us ride to you temple."

[Eonas]

Kallen says nothing, his brow still beaded with sweat, his face still red, and his expression still grim.

[Oh My God]

The huntsman waits at the carriage, directs his wolf to board the roof as well, and then shoots a pointed look at the heir. " That was an actual question from Poul there, Kallen." The absence of any honorific is telling. " Why did you do that? What did you think was going to happen?"

[Eonas]

Faced with this reprimand, Kallen's expression turns from grim to abashed again. "I-I-I honestly don't know, Blackhand. What I did was very rash." He pauses. "I could have gotten us all killed, couldn't I. I suppose it was all the frustration that comes from 25 years of not being recognized for what I am." Kallen's face becomes pensive.

[TechnoScrabble]

"Ve don' need to vage a var. Not right now. Ve kould hide among my pipple, or flee across de sea ontil ve've konsolidated zum sort uf power," Finnlay suggests. He's got years of training in patient, paranoid waiting for a moment to strike.

[Vladislav]

As you leave Plessie, the outer gates creak shut behind you, possibly forever, who knows. The king's servants left you the carriage, but none of them join you this time, so if you want to travel in style, someone will have to hold the reigns and drive the thing. You make your way down the winding forest path, and upon leaving the Kingswood, the first thing you spot is Sir Velzer and his little group, camped at a hillock not two hundred yards away - possibly awaiting the King's response. They're on foot, horses grazing nearby.

[Eonas]

Faced with this reprimand, Kallen's expression turns from grim to abashed again. "I-I-I honestly don't know, Blackhand. What I did was very rash." He pauses. "I could have gotten us all killed, couldn't I. I suppose it was all the frustration that comes from 25 years of not being recognized for what I am." Kallen's face becomes pensive.

[moritheil]

Rurithel, having been bitterly silent all this time, forces herself to speak up. "I see the knight of Toldur and his retinue. Perhaps one of us should talk to them. One of us other than the young prince?"

[VestigeArcanist]

You and I, Rurithel, shall speak to them. Becket has the carriage stop to a halt approxiamately 100 feet away. With Rurithel, or another compatriot if they choose, he begins to walk up and shouts. Hail fair warriors!

[moritheil]

Having donned her armor shirt again for the trip, Rurithel adjusts her bracer and sword, and attempts to look soldierly. "I was not certain Your Excellency wished to be seen doing this thing. But I shall be glad to lend my aid to our mission of parley."

She looks nervously over at the camp to see their reaction, and considers casting another spell.

[Vladislav]

Shielding his eyes from the setting sun, Ignat catches a glimpse of your group. The coward king sends his champions, I see. And a whole lot of them. Mount up, boys, lets break some lances and bones. He whistles for his horse, and puts a foot in the stirrup.

[VestigeArcanist]

Hold your tongue and your sword, noble Ignat. We come under the ancient law and practice of parley. Dishonor it at your own peril.


Prepare spell in case he or his men decides to attack.

[TechnoScrabble]

"Hy em NOT dat traitorous bastard's champion!" Finnlay growls, glad he can voice his opinions now.

[moritheil]

Rurithel sees Ignat mount and casts Message, whispering in the same voice she previously used. "I did try to warn you, sir Knight, that the dwarf was not trusting of you. You saw my word was true. Hear me now: we do not come to fight. Now we seek parley."

[Vladislav]

Spider's men want to talk, Devon. He says to his squire, then turns back to you. I might have fallen for that, except that not five minutes ago, I heard a voice talking in my head. Sending, I believe they call it. With the laconity ordained by the 25 word limit, the voice said

Spider's men arrive to fight you soon.
Tricky and devious, don't lower your guard
Good luck, and godspeed!
Your anonymous friend at the Spider's court.

You know what, Devon? he continues, surveying your group, I think I'm going to need a bigger lance.

All your lances are the same size, sire. The squire seems flustered.

Figure of speech, Devon, figure of speech.

[[initiative plz]]

[VestigeArcanist]

Thomas cautious and paranouid side came out for the better, this time.

Casts a spell on Ignat.

Spellcraft DC 14

Dominate Person, w/neanhoon sigil power. Base 10+ 4(spell level) +5 (wisdom Mod + 2 (feats) + 5 (Sigil)

Sacrifice 5 turning attempts.

Will Save DC 26.

First order, if successful. Do not fight or break this spell, it is good for you. Try to calm your anger down by taking a deep breath and slowly count to ten.

This happens in his head, of course

[TechnoScrabble]

Initiative:
[roll0]
Finnlay removes his helmet and reveals his face to Ignatz.
"Hyu recognize vo Hy em? Hyu know uf my pipple? De Edgevaters? Vould hyu really radder fight de bearer uf de Breath uf de Peak ten take his vord dat he doesn' serff a man vo schlaughtered his own pipple?"

[TechnoScrabble]

Forgot to roll diplomacy:
[roll0]

[VestigeArcanist]

Thomas Becket puts up his hand. There is no need to fight. You are honorable, and you would never hurt a member of the clergy if you could prevent it. We shall sheath our weapons, and your men shall do the same. No one needs to be hurt or die. Do you agree, Ignat?

He does. He will have his men to stand down and make a sign of peace to us.

[Eonas]

Kallen whistles long and low. It's not because of his assessment of the situation, but rather for his horse, Iyrn.

[Eonas]

Kallen whistles long and low. It's not because of his assessment of the situation, but rather for his horse, Iyrn.

Initiative: [roll0]

[Vladislav]

Ignat bounces himself up into the saddle, lowers his lance, and then... Wait ... Maybe ... There is no need to fight. They shall sheath our weapons, and my men shall do the same. No one needs to be hurt or die.

Sir, are your orders... ? The squire asks, gazing at your group and his master intermittently.

There is no need to fight. Ignat repeats.

[moritheil]

Rurithel breathes a relieved sigh, taking her hand away from her sword hilt. "His majesty appears to have a very unpleasant sense of humor." Turning to the archbishop, she whispers, "Your work, I presume?"

[WyvernLord]

Poul watches this as he grabs his swords and buckles them to his belt. He steps out and walks up to the priest and wizard. I wear my armor proudly and nod my head at the group in the road ahead.

[Vladislav]

Maybe it's his rudimentary training in magic showing, or his master's odd behavior, but the squire is able to put twenty one and five together to produce twenty six soon enough. Treason! Our Lord is magically compelled! He shouts at the guards. Ride home as fast as you can to report of this crime! I'll hold them off!

He points his hand forward and the path under the Elf and the Bishop's feet becomes very slippery. The Archbishop, with agility unexpected for a man of his stature, manages to balance precariously on his heels and keeps his footing, but the elven woman is caught by surprse and keels over into the dust most gracelessly.

Rurithel and Thomas, Reflex 14 or fall over.
Spellcraft DC 11 Grease

The three guards make a move for their horses. [[When their init comes up. Slowpokes]]

[VestigeArcanist]

Turns to Rurithel, Thomas speaks coyly A gentleman never tells.

Let us parley, Ignat.

Accept the parley, but act natural otherwise. Come up with a rational reason as to why you are doing this, if you are asked. And tell your squire and men to be silent and hold their tongues, as they are speaking in the presence of an Archbishop.

[Oh My God]

The huntsman doesn't even have the energy at this point to sigh in exasperation; instead, with a whistle, he beckons Ebeneezer from his perch atop the carriage, and quick as lighting the wolf bounds ahead of the slowly advancing ranger, the beast tracing a flat parabolic curve over the ground as it arches through the air, aimed for the errant squire.

Mattias is closing 30' on the fracas, and drawing his kukri; Ebeneezer the terrifying large wolf is charging the squire and trying to bite him; rolling Eb's attack.

[roll0]

[TechnoScrabble]

"Back home, pipple vo do tinks like dat are schtaked und burnt," Finnlay points out to Thomas before spurring Salvi to gallop up and place he and Thomas between the guards and their horses.
[roll0] ride
[roll1] handle animal

"Please, forgiff his holiness. He forgets dat men are supposed to own der own toughts from time to time. Ve seek no qvarrel. In fact, an halliance may be in order."

You have got to be ****ing kidding me. Screw you forum roller. Screw you to Mordor.

[moritheil]

From her prone position, Rurithel grits her teeth and begins summoning a large batch of grease, positioning it under the moving men-at-arms as well as their horses.

OOC: Casting Grease modified by Shape Spell, 4x 10' cubes. Prioritizing the horses over the men, but 400 square feet should probably get both. DC 17 Ref (11 +5 cha +1 spell focus conjuration.) If this takes place after Finnlay starts approaching them then Rurithel will try to leave Finnlay a clear space so he can avoid getting greased himself.

[Vladislav]

The men-at-arms leap into their saddles, feet fumbling at the stirrups, and after a short moment of confusion, decide to split up. One rides directly east, while the other two scurry NE and SE respectively.

As Rurithel realizes they are out of range for her Grease spell, a furry comet shows up out of nowhere, knocking the hapless squire overs and materializing on his chest in the shape of a wolf, tearing at his neck.

Meanwhile, Finnlay attempts to ride up to the men-at-arms, but they have a bit of a head start on him.

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay decides not to chase the guards and instead tries to save the squire, riding over to the wolf and trying to shoo it away.
ride [roll0]
handle animal [roll1]

[Vladislav]

The wolf bares his teeth and growls in discontent, but obeys. He steps off the herald's chest, while keeping a close bloodshot eye on his quarry.

[[since it's a free action for a ranger/druid to control their animal companion, Mattias may override this, even out of turn. Also, Finnlay doesn't need to make a Ride check to just ride his horse normally. Ride checks are for special stunts like fast mount/dismount, staying in the saddle when taking damage, etc.]]

[moritheil]

Switching tactics slightly, Rurithel decides to blind the horses. "Go after the riders! You are the only one who can!" she yells at Finnlay, conjuring a storm of blindingly brilliant particles.

OOC: Ok, Shaped Glitterdust for four 10' cubes. It has a range of 170' so if they're only 100' away they should all be well in range of that. Even if they're spread out, she can drop a 10' cube on each horse and rider. If shaping is unnecessary, she'll save her move action and use it to stand. Whether the men save or not, Rurithel is betting the horses are unlikely to. Will DC 18 (12+5+1)

[VestigeArcanist]

Considering the problem closely, Thomas comes up with a clever plot.

Thomas trys to move out of the greased area.

Balance [roll0]
Reflex save, if fails. [roll1]

Spellcraft DC 12

Cast hold person on squire will save DC 19

If successful, he will be unable to talk.



Ignat shall say, Come you cowards! Never leave a man behind! Come onto me and fight like men!

He will then act like he is trying to strike at the wolf, but will intentionally just miss.

[Vladislav]

As Rurithel invokes her glittering particles, Thomas slips and falls right next to her, but somehow manages to complete his incantation, pointing a crooked finger at the squire while both have a good close view of the hard cold ground. The squire is now wounded, prone, and paralyzed.

Meanwhile, Ignat, as commanded by Thomas, puts his best charade of attacking the wolf, which is completely lost on his guards, seeing as two of them are blind, and the third is completely focused on guiding his horse. Who is also blind.

[[just waiting on Poul, I believe. Oh, since the squire is held and loses his action, Kallen too.]]

Two of the riders have stopped, unable to proceed, while the third is somehow managing to control his blind mount and is trudging on (will probably continue moving once his turn rolls along)

[Eonas]

Kallen leaps upon his horse, grateful for the opportunity to not look feel like a fool, and charges towards the escaping riders.

OOC: Kallen takes care to not ride his horse into the grease, but still tries to shorten the ground between him and the riders. Can I have another one-dimensional battle-map, please?

[TechnoScrabble]

"If Hy kome back und hennybody iz dead, dere vill be puneeshment meted out!" Finnlay turns and urges Salvi to run after the direction that the two guards went in ((He's just under a light load for his heavy warhorse, so Salvi should be able to run at 4x speed)). He'll shout after the riders.

"Get back here! Hy chust saved you fool Lord und his Sqvire from de ranger's volf, vat more do hyu need? Iz de vord uf an Edgevater no longer enough in dese times?"

[WyvernLord]

Poul walks to the side of the road and sits to wait for someone to need his help.
:smalltongue:

[Vladislav]

Hearing Kallen's hoofbeats approaching, and struggling with his sightless mount, the Toldur soldier surrenders. So do the others, who had even less luck with the blinding dust. You can gather them up and plan your next move.

[WyvernLord]

Poul waits until they are all grouped up to come over.
"Please handover all your weapons so we can talk like normal people."
Poul shoots a disapproving glance at the Archbishop.

[moritheil]

Rurithel surveys the scene. She will bind the soldiers with rope, if no one else will, though she will not do anything to Sir Ignat. "It seems they were sent a message to turn them against even the possibility of parley with us. Very troubling. I wonder who among the nobles could have done such a thing."

[TechnoScrabble]

"Let's try not to antagonize dese men, please? Dey already tink ve vork for Galen," Finnlay remarks at the men being tied up after bringing the men he went after back to the group.

"Und Tomas, kan hyu zumhow end de schpell on Sir Ignatz? Hy'd like to talk to zumbody vo hesn' hed der mind muddied by magic."

[moritheil]

"Let's try not to antagonize dese men, please? Dey already tink ve vork for Galen," Finnlay remarks at the men being tied up after bringing the men he went after back to the group.

Rurithel peers curiously at Finnlay. "Ordinarily I would perhaps agree, but it is most important that we ensure they do not flee before they calm down and talk. Aside from the one who attacked our priest, they have not been harmed. Surely you appreciate that trying to accomplish things without bloodshed has made things more difficult - and surely you do not begrudge the priest his self-defense when faced by an armed and mounted knight?"

[Oh My God]

" Really, Sir Wallhack? What sort of 'talk' are you planning on having, exactly?" The incredulous huntsman has a lit cigar in his mouth once more, and he gestures at the big Toldurian knight with one of his kukri as Mattias starts to speak with an exageration of Finn's accent," ' Chello, hoostile fureign meenace vhat ist der histoorical neemeesis orf me und mhy volk. Hyou seem ta hoof ooosoolted me, und mhy perince, oon wery thin preeteense. Vant to haff tehea und biscoots und be frunds?' "

Mattias shakes his head, just completely dumbfounded. "What's next? Offering to wrestle one? You do remember its these tits we have to thank for Galen in the first place, don't you?"

[WyvernLord]

"We have fought them as a kingdom in the past. However it is not a good idea to antagonize two of the most powerful kingdoms in the world in the same day."
Poul turns to the knights.
"I am sorry about this. Some of us act before we think. I am trying to break them of this habit."

[moritheil]

Rurithel frowns at Poul from behind a footman. "Lord Poul, this particular turn of events has come about precisely because the worthy Sir Ignat decided to panic and charge us rather than talk, and his men felt he was best served by abandoning him. While I feel his error is understandable - he is in a foreign land - I would not presume to apologize for the errors of others."

Finishing checking the knot, she stands and walks closer to the young lord. Pitching her voice low for his ears alone, she whispers, "If you dislike my conduct, I will hear your complaints in person, apart from the men."

[WyvernLord]

"I have no problems with your behavior. Just the rash actions of people on both sides."

[TechnoScrabble]

"If a mongrel bites hyu, do hyu kick every pup hyu see ever after?" Finnlay shoots back, "Dese men hain't to blame for Galen's krimes, und dey must be enlightened as to de full ekstent uf de bastard's vrongdoink."\

He chuckles a little bit and adds, "Und Hy von' be Sir or Lord Vallheck ontil Hy em knighted or my fadder dies."

[moritheil]

Rurithel inclines her head at Poul, speaking at a normal level again. "I suppose I am rather frustrated myself with recent events. Let us see about getting our priest the information he requires, hopefully without further interruption."

[Oh My God]

Left speechless by the absence of even a shred of a short term memory in the head of Finnlay, Mattias shakes his head walks back to the carriage, his wolf in tow. Once there, he starts rummaging through the store of supplies in the back.

[WyvernLord]

Poul takes a deep breath and walks to the side of the road again.

[moritheil]

Noting the dispute between Finnlay and the others, Rurithel walks towards Finnlay. "Lord Finnlay, may we speak for a moment? I feel you may be misunderstanding a few things about magic, and I would like to try to explain."

[Vladislav]

The soldiers are forced to dismount and are tied up securely, and glare at you angrily once their blindness wears off. The squire, also tied, is left to lie by the road, his wound caked with blood and dirt. Ignat observes the scene silently, moving his eyes from one Galadornian to another, possibly wondering if he's supposed to do or say something about all this.

[TechnoScrabble]

"Vat? Er, uf kourse," Finnlay focuses his attention on Rurithiel, but continues glancing at the Toldurian soldiers to make sure they don't try anything.

[moritheil]

"Please do not be too hard on the Archbishop," Rurithel continues, pitching her voice confidentially. "It is a hard thing for a man of magic to be a man of arms, or the reverse. He only defended himself from certain death, and what he has done with magic is, as far as I can tell, not permanent. You say you want to talk to them, as he did - it would be far harder to talk to them if we had been forced to slay one of their number, or if they had fled to the border with wild and inaccurate tales.

"I can tell you have some issues to work out with him, man to man, regarding mutual respect. I don't intend to interfere with that; you and he surely have your own minds and the matter is between the two of you. But I hear you disparaging his use of magic and this alarms me. Elf or man, magus or priest, we do not always understand each other. I hope we can trust each other, though, or the next time we are attacked I fear it will go poorly for us."

[TechnoScrabble]

Finnlay and sighs rubs the back of his head awkwardly, his helmet still hanging from his belt.
"Hyu're right, an apology iz in order. Hy chust...Hy don' like it dat zumone kan chust kontrol a man like dat," Finnlay snaps his fingers, "Pipple schould be able to tink for demselves at de very least."

Finn glances at Thomas.
" Hef hyu ever met a necromancer, Lady Dawnmist?"

[moritheil]

"It is a little unnatural," Rurithel admits. "But Wee Jas is the patron not only of magic, but of death - our priest's alternative to domination may well be to use death spells.

"I have met a necromancer once, actually," the elf recalls. "I went with father up to a northern land, because a wizard wished access to our magical library. He served me tea."

[TechnoScrabble]

"A lot uf dem like to hide from pipple, up in places fev pipple go. Like de mountains near my home. Ven Hy vas tirteen, Hy vatched a man raise tree dead generations uf my pipple vith a flick uf his vrist und set dem upon us," Finnlay pulls some of the chainmail and his sleeve up on his left arm, revealing a large bite mark hiding among the other scars, "Hy hed to kill my great grundfadder vith his own svord. Tvice. De first time, he got back up und bit me."

Finnlay points to a large, circular scar on his cheek.
"Four years later, zum keed in a village Hy'm visitink finds a schpellbook. He gets bored puts an enchantment on most uf de town. He vondered if zumbody kould chev der own cheek uff, so guess vat he made me do?"

He slides his sleeve and mail back down and lowers his voice to a whisper.
((I dunno if this requires a listen check or not, DM's rule))
"Hy hef no problem vith a man vo kan heal vith a fev vords or make a dragon fall from de sky, but ven zumbody kan kontrol hyu like dat, even beyond death? Dat terrifies me."

"Don' tell hennyone about dat last bit, please. Hy'm gunna go apologize to Tomas."

[moritheil]

Rurithel's face darkens. "That is not an acceptable use of necromancy. As to the other, it is not an acceptable use of enchantment. Those who have power must be responsible with it, and doing that kind of thing to people is completely outrageous, just as throwing fireballs into a market would be. I am very sorry to hear of what happened to you and your family. Were you able to find and kill the wizard responsible?"

In her excitement, her voice rises a little.

[TechnoScrabble]

De necromancer? Fed to volves. De boy vith de schpellbook? Exidentally killed himself ven he set de town on fire," Finnlay shrugs, "Not de chustice Hy vould hef vanted, but chustice nonddeless."

[moritheil]

Rurithel nods her brisk approval. "Being fed to wolves is about what such a necromancer deserves. We have, in the elven lands, a kind of tradition where mages about to die sometimes use necromancy on themselves - so they can serve the people even in death, by guarding important locations. But it's a very different thing from running around animating other peoples' families without their consent. That is simply terrible."