[3.5] Restored Rule IC

[Cardea]

OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=14256202)

{table=head]
Player Name|
Character Name|
Race/Class


RCGothic|
Lilian Shepard (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=460553)|
Human Sorcerer


Sodar|
Raelyn (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=462222)|
Tiefling Heroic Rogue


TechnoScrabble|
Magnus Brethencourt Edgewater (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=460182)|
Human Heroic Fighter


ZeroNumerous|
Nathaniel Blackgate (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=461225)|
Human Heroic Fighter


Fibinachi|
Ink (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=469434)|
Human Druid


delta639|
Halkad (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=469206)|
Kalashtar Telepath[/table]


Chapter Zero

Lilian

Things you are thankful for: endurance.

Things you are not thankful for: roads, in stormy weather.

They weren't appreciative, your family, no, not at all. The dowry would have helped, and to have had a daughter married to a noble, no matter how minor, would have been something they could have never given you. But they understand, he could have never given your freedom. Something they knew you would always need. They were stern, but you could tell: they were supportive.

There's no telling how Master Richard will feel.

But two days after leaving, you've yet to do any good, merely walking along the same road, and hoping that the dry spell would continue. Or is that how you feel now, with the weather being what it is? Perhaps you wished for cooler weather to come along? No telling now.

You can't tell how the weather feels.

But regardless, you walk this road. Late in the night, you finally come across the first town you've seen since your own: The sign says Meloon. You see a couple dozen buildings, and warm lights in most of them.

But in an instant, one light shines from somewhere inside the town. Bright and hot and smelling like cinders. Its flashes once, and that moment feels like forever. But in a moment, its gone.

Raelyn

If you had paid more attention, or if you were any less sharp, you'd swear it was an omen. You look up from your book, a catalogue of plants, something you thought would be more... tantalizing, given the title: Fantasizing Fauna. Besides giving you what you didn't want, Lydia said to take a caravan somewhere, mope somewhere else. You were hesitant, but she paid. So here you are, on this caravan.

But things aren't always easy. You learned that from Gillard.

No, you find a flower in it called 'Meloon's Boon', a purple thing, said to bring luck. And exactly where do you find yourself? Where in all of the land of Irdina, does this caravan let you off? Or, at least, throw you off, when it turns out Lydia paid in false silver?

Meloon.

Several dozen buildings clumped together, with candle light lighting up most of the windows. Not many people wander through the streets. None of them make sound- or, at least, you don't think they do, but you couldn't tell either way, with this rain.

But you do smell something. Something like the powders and smoke that you learned of back with Gillard. Something bitter and lasting, something that numbs your mind a bit with its sharp sensation. It smells like something comforting.

Its very out of place in the world.

Magnus

Shaman Kilopal screamed so loud that night.

You and our fellow clan mates had been wandering for months, doing what you can to quell your adventure lust, under the excuse of looking for the previous line that your kind was sworn to. Well, maybe for them it was. You wanted to believe. You wanted to believe that not all of that blood was lost. You wanted a sign, something to tell you that yes, the true blooded lineage was still alive.

You didn't expect it like this.

So loud.

So pained.

So cold.

"You, only you yes you!" Her mouth opened and you could hear a jaw dislocating. It didn't open and shut. The jaw didn't move. The tongue didn't wag. But still she screamed. "Magnus Edgewater! Magnus Edgewater! You must go! You must go! Meloon's Boon takes care of the heir you must go, Magnus Edgewater! I will know! I have always known! You must go! Now! Go before the sun sets! Leave our fire! Leave our company! Go alone! And go now!"

The jaw cracked back right. Her jaw shut. She collapsed.

You ran.

It took you weeks to find the place. This small, nowhere village, far unconnected to the world. You wandered it, aimlessly, trying to find what purpose Shaman Kilopal send you here for, because you doubted it so much that it was for an Heir.

But why would she lie?

You pondered this as you bought a room, paying for a week, just to be sure.

And in the night, a woman, elderly, world-weary, entered you room. You had your sword out, but she only smiled and laughed, saying she hadn't seen that kind of sword in years. That she remembers her own Edgewater, so many years ago. She introduced herself as Princess Cicily. She showed you the royal signet ring. The floorboards almost broke under the speed at which you dropped to your knee.

This was a few days ago. In that time you learned that the royal line survived, but that... almost all were unfit for the crown, now. Except for one. A young man by the name of Nathaniel. You kept your distance, observing him only, as the Princess requested. Apparently he didn't know yet.

Now, however, you sit in a smithy, a few feet from the boy's aunt and uncle. He enters with his other uncle, and he whispers something.

From the relatives at the table, you smell smoke.

Nathaniel

It was dark. That is what was certain. But you didn't know why.

Uncle Quentin woke you up not long ago, almost dragging you out into the rain and down the town, into his smithy. He locked the door behind him, even going so far as to do the flood lock, the enchanted one, that only opens if he spoke the command word. He seemed afraid that even that one would be broken through.

In the smithy, Uncle Kallin and Aunt Tina, his wife, sat at a small table. He burned his hands a few days ago, scorching them badly, and was put on bedrest by his Aunt Tina by force to heal. So to have him here, now, was a bit odd. Aunt Tina was holding him by the wrist, and in the other hand, she held a small scrap of paper, that he was staring at with such intensity.

They ignored you.

However, you saw in the corner, a man that came in a few days ago. He hadn't said a word to you, but you know he has been watching you for all this time. Never saying or doing anything to you, or at all, as far as you knew. Your Grandmother said to ignore him, he wasn't doing any harm.

Uncle Quentin grabbed you by the shoulders, and spoke slowly.

"That man right there? That man signals the coming or your destiny, Nephew."

The piece of paper that Aunt Tina held starts to singe, and begin to burn to ash.

Ink

Dreams were, you learned from plays and books, figments of imagination and, in some cases, prophecy. That to dream is to experience a realm unlike any other, where love and madness may intertwine as easily as fruit and wine.

He stands and sits and kneels in front of you, he does. He doesn't say anything at first. Its the game. He waits for you to say something, before he cuts you off. Its customary.

"Ink."

His eyes are looking at you. Big, bulbous one, black like plague and gleaming like pearls. There is no mouth, only a patch of flesh over one would be. His head resembles something that would want to be human.

"Ink, you're going to play a game with me."

He has no ears, so you sometimes wonder if he actually has conversations with you, or if he can or could, would he care what you said? But you know he listens. More than you'd like. Its part of... the arrangement.

"Ink, I need you to help a little mortal resume his family's place on a seat of power."

You can't tell which of his limbs are real. There's just too many.

"His name is Nathaniel, Ink. I want you to be his friend. Lie to him if you must. Love him if you want. But here's the challenge, little Ink. I want you to refrain from telling him about us, Ink. Okay, Ink? Ink? Ink?"

The image of him disappears in a white light. Its to bright. It hurts.

"Ink?"

You feel the light pass away, and you open your eyes again. No longer back in the rafters of the theater, you find yourself sitting, cross legged, on a small well's ledge. Your companion, you feel, is somewhere outside of this... town. And you feel the light dissipate slowly, into a nearby storefront, the sign above it saying: Quentin's Quelling: Smithy.

"Your move, Ink."

Halkad

In order to stay safe, you've accustomed yourself to semi-regular travel. If you had stayed in one place, you would have been found. If you kept on the move, it would have only been a matter of time before someone, somewhere would get the order to start seize searching wagons and travelers. But you had to stay on the move, but you couldn't stay on the go, all the time. And you felt, sometimes, if you stayed in one place for too long, a glimpse of what you saw in the King's mind, all those years back.

Right now, however, you find yourself laying low, trying to avoid being found by a small bloodhound group of the throne. Small dogs, easily taken care of, but the countermeasures they held against that kind of thing would cost too much to risk it. And not acting in time would make them catch on to you, if it was you they were looking for.

But whatever they're doing here, its best to avoid suspicion.

So you walk around this back alleyway, where the bloodhounds have yet to wander, when you feel a clinging at the back of your mind, like when some of those diplomats were around, and you could feel them trying to look into you. Only this time?

This time it didn't feel painful.

You close your eyes for a moment, and you know that, if you pulled back on this force, you would go along with it, wherever it originated.

You hear bloodhounds.

You pull back.

Your mind loses track of where you are. It loses focus for a moment, and a wave of panic rushes over you, and back out as you find solid footing again. You find yourself on the outskirts of what you assume to be a village. And looking down the cobbled road that leads into town, you can feel one door pulling you along.

[Cardea]

Chapter One

Lilian

What do you do?

Sodar

What do you do?

Magnus and Nathaniel

Aunt Tina drops the piece of paper onto the table, her fingers now burnt. Quentin walks over to the table, says something to the two of them. They leave quickly, pausing to look at Nathaniel, before exiting.

Quentin looks over to Nathaniel, and motions with a hand towards Magnus to come closer. "I'm sure you've noticed our friend here for the past few days, haven't you, nephew? Isn't exactly subtle in our little home, no. But your Grandmother thinks its time you two formally meet.

"Nathaniel, this is Magnus Edgewater, of the Edgewater Clan. You've learned about them, I know you have. He's here to uh. To see you.

"Magnus, this is my nephew Nathaniel Blackgate. I think you have something else you'd like to tell him?"

Ink

From the smithy you see two middle-aged folk, a man and woman, leave, both covering their hands. The man's hands are wrapped in bandages. The door is left open.

Halkad

The door that pulls you opens, and two hunched figures exit.

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

When his uncle bursts through his bedroom door to wake him up, Nathaniel immediately reaches for his bow. Whatever the problem was, the only reason to wake Nathaniel this late at night involved danger, and the young man reacted appropriately. There wasn't time to throw on his armor, but he did buckle a quiver on as quickly as possible.

He remains close to his uncle as the two of them sneak into the smithy. Nathaniel wonders to himself what, exactly, his uncle intended for him to do. After all, if he had known that there'd be a problem inside a building then he'd have grabbed the family sword. When his uncle stops and introduces them, Nathaniel just watches the Edgewater. The young man, just fresh out of his teens, maintains eye contact with Magnus. He stood only an inch shorter, but held himself straight and tall even in the presence of an Edgewater.

Nathaniel shoulders his bow, and continues to watch the Edgewater just as the Edgewater watched him. After all, he didn't know the man and he worried for the safety of his family. Outsiders rarely carried the same helpful attitudes as the others in Meloon, and that went double when those outsiders were as well armed or armored as Magnus. Even so, ole Gran always said to treat men and women with the respect you wish to be treated with, and Nathaniel would abide by that.

When his uncle says his name, Nathaniel crosses the distance between the Edgewater and himself and sticks out a hand for the man to shake. Nathaniel smiles at Magnus. "Unless you're here to arrest Richemont I'm afraid there's not much I can do for you, Sir Edgewater. And if you are here to arrest Rich, then I'm afraid I don't know where he is."

[Sodar]

Rousseau Rovere.

Not only do Gods play dice, the dice are loaded.

He should have known better than to assume Lydia actually paid for something. He wondered if it was some sort of deliberate prank, or was she trying to get him out of the picture for some unknown reason? If there was trouble brewing at the capital she would notice it long before him. Then again, if that were the case wouldn't be it more efficient for her to just nag him for a trip somewhere nice? He had to admit he was getting restless recently, in the last six months the most fascinating thing that happened to him was figuring out how to get around the gnomish principle that spontaneous combustion is a feature, not a defect. Both of them could probably use some time off. Maybe near the sea. Yeah, that would be great... But no more than a week, he had work to do.

Still, when they arrived at Meloon he got this distinct feeling he better forget about taking his vacations any time soon. When Lydias silver turned out to be false, he could just pay for the caravan from his own purse, like always. But he didn't want to ignore the signs. He was not unfamiliar with the rules of probability, but those coincidences were to obvious, he picked the book randomly, he just finished reading about that flower when they came to town, and last but not least, the stable-boy was thorough enough to notice his payment, the one merchant used to pay for the oats, was counterfeit, when his carrier didn't. It seemed some force wished for him to stop his journey here and Raelyn wasn't sure he was willing to test its patience. He did remember Charles saying that while Gods weave plots so intricate mortals could waste lifespans just to unravel a fragment of them, they can also be painfully obvious if need be.

'So better take the hint.' he recalled with a smile

He turned around and went to investigate where this smoke was coming from. Afterwards he could take a look around, gather some general information.

[RCgothic]

Lilian

I pull my cloak tighter around myself as the rain lashes down. Jess pads stoically alongside me - head down and bedraggled, yet not complaining. Miko is a warm patch close to my chest, snug and dry in an inner pocket - his purr a substantial source of comfort against the inclement weather. Rain trickles down my face under my heavy hood, plastering long strands of hair against my brow.

My emotions are in as much turmoil as the storm! This is all so sudden. Whatever I had expected from telling Richard we could not be wed, I hadn't expected this. He'd surprised me. I had expected anger; hurt even! He'd been so aloof whenever we'd been together before, silent when we were alone. I had wondered why he had chosen me to be his bride, and had come to believe he wasn't really interested in me; In the absence of a suitable noble bride he'd picked the pretty peasant girl to be his trophy wife. I'd resented that.

But now I'm not so sure. Was his aloofness an act for his father? Was he actually just adorably inexperienced with women, tongue-tied in my presence? In any case he seemed to understand. Rather than the hurt and recriminations I had expected, I find myself free at last, with a sizeable roll of platinum hidden at the bottom of my pack. A tiny voice at the back of my mind suggests being married to him might not have been so bad after all...

I quickly quiet it. The lights of a town are coming up - the first since leaving Bywater, and I could use a place to get dry by the fire before spending the first of my new wealth in the morning. I'm just starting to look for an Inn when suddenly the flash of bright light startled me. It's a familiar hue, accompanied by a smell of cinders - a smithy! Happy memories of heat , warmth and quiet, illicit industry fill me, and I resolve that that is where I should ask first...

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus Edgewater

Magnus does not take Nathaniel's hand. Rather, he drops down onto one knee and bows his head, eyes closed in deference. It has been ages in waiting for Magnus to take his place as Nathaniel's shield. His breath feels heavier than his armour right now, and for all his years of training, Magnus is nervous.

"Milord, I am Magnus Brethencourt Edgewater. The time is overdue for you to take your rightful place on the throne, but it is better to be late than to never arrive at all. I am here to make certain you make it there alive. I hope you find me worthy to serve."

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The young man just laughs. "Haha. I get it. Rich put you up to this joke. Seriously, what do you need? If it's food I could head out hunting in the morning, or something. If you need a guide I can go as far as a couple of miles, but I'll have to leave at this point to come back to the village."

[delta639]

Halkad

The bloodhounds' baying has long since faded, but Halkad still feels considerable unease, as he looks around the unfamiliar surroundings. It seems a practical certainty that the mysterious...mental tugging was the force that brought him here. Though the sensation and teleportation may have been designed to aid Halkad, it's at least as likely that they were meant as a lure, and Halkad the attempted catch.

Being on your guard is all well and good, but...not everything is a trap, you must realize.

It has become routine for Halkad to ignore this type of thought, that originates from the self-professed 'quori' in his mind. However, the young man admits to himself that it may have a point. This strange, not unpleasant feeling has never occurred to Halkad before, so far as he can recall. And learned curiosity, as well as base hope for the sensation to be benevolent, overpower suspicion and paranoia for this moment.

As with the object of Halkad's search...there's no other option than to investigate.

Halkad takes a few steps towards the cajoling door, but halts, eyes narrowing in suspicion as two figures emerge from beyond. Unfamiliar ones, at first glance, and this coupled with their point of exit causes Halkad to react reflexively: with a moment's exertion of his will, and a manifestation of read thoughts. The first step in meeting unknown acquaintances accomplished, all that's necessary is to bring them into his powers' range, without attracting their suspicion.

A thin, grim smile flickers on Halkad's face, as a stray thought flits through his mind, his own this time- Just like old times.

He approaches, openly, within twenty yards of the new arrivals, and reaches out to their minds, seeing what can be sensed therein.

Power points 51 -> 48. Will DC 17 to avoid the effects of read thoughts.

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

Magnus looks up at Nathaniel, almost quizzically for a moment, but then with a knowing and determined look like a glacier on it's inevitable path. He stands up, his armor making various creaking and clanking noises as he moves, and places one large, meaty hand on Nathaniel's shoulder.

"Milord," Magnus says, "Have you ever felt that maybe, you might have been above those around you? That you might be a natural leader of men, or that you might be destined for something great?"

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The boy just chuckles and shakes his head. "Don't call me that. It feels weird. And no, I don't feel better than anyone else. I'm just a farmer. Or a guard, a ranch-hand, and sometimes a hunter when times are lean. I do what's necessary for people to get by. Does that make me a leader? No way. And destiny? I don't believe in it. Ain't no one out there deciding who lives and who dies. There's only the choices people make, and their willingness to do what is right." Nathaniel just shrugs.

"Whatever it is you're looking for just ain't here. Maybe you should try up the road, in the city."

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

"Destiny is not what decides who you are, or what you do, Milor-I apologize, Nathaniel-Destiny is merely what it all is at the end. Your destination. How you get there is your choice," Magnus takes his hand off of Nathaniel's shoulder and takes a step back, bowing slightly as he does so.
"You are directly descended from the true royalty of Aulem. The man on the throne, King Callance, is a fraud and the son of a murderer. Surely you know the history behind his rise? Your grandmother is not Ciero Cio Lily. Her name is Cicily. Princess Cicily. The one who fled the castle during Callance the first's bloody overthrow. The throne of Aulem belongs to you, not Callance. And your land needs you to take it."

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

Nathaniel shrugs Magnus' question of destiny off. "Right, I still don't believe in it."

When Magnus goes through the whole mess concerning Nathaniel's bloodrights, the young man just raises an eyebrow. "Oookay. Well, Mr. Edgewater, maybe we can get you some help in the city. Don't worry, everything will be fine."

Nathaniel looks to his Grandmother, then points to the Edgewater. "Don't you think we should take this guy to the city and see if we can find a cleric to heal his mind? I mean, someone wandering around claiming all kinds of people are royal is likely to upset some people."

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

"Would I know your grandmother, or would your family have brought you here, if I did not speak the truth? Or would you doubt your kin alongside a man of the Edgewater line?" Magnus draws his sword and holds it out to Nathaniel, letting the frost curl off into the air, "Or perhaps this sword is just for show, hmm?"

[Fibinachi]

Ink

One moment the audience laughs at a quip, some heroic challenge to a bucktoothed ogre, and the sound rolls across the scene and reaches her, hidden and up high. And in the instance between one heartbeat and another there's a flash of darkness and Ink catches herself thinking that maybe she is sleeping again, dozed off in the safety of warm building with a carpet of laughter to accompany her.

No. The Almost-and-not man is sitting and standing in front of her. Near her. Locations and posture can get tricky, she has stopped trying to map it all. It's futile. He (It?) talks and she does not and he answers all the questions she never managed to state because that's how it works, the neat and circular way the game is played, the flow the arrangement follows. The same arrangement that leads to things missing or plants growing, seemingly inconsequential little past times ordained by someone with a curious (at best) sense of humour. But this? This is new, different and more than just garbled impressions of non-real spaces. This is a Game, the kind played with knives and deft hands. All the more strange than shadows and flickering shapes in her peripheral vision, so much worse in a myriad of ways.

And as she opens her eyes, she is somewhere else. The white afterimage and burning behind her eyelids resolves itself into darkness, a store front with a sign that is at first indistinct. It's a smithy, she is sitting on the ledge of a well in a small town. And it is raining, a dark night somewhere in the countryside. The warmth of the theater becomes the familiar tension of open spaces and the rain quickly finds a way through her clothes, slipping a cold tendril down her back. The laughter is gone and it left only the water and a name. Nathaniel.

Absolute and overpowering terror clots her throat and she stumbles off the ledge, slipping in the ground turned mud before regaining her balance. She knows she is shaking, chilled, moist and terrified and she recovers her composure with an effort of will.
Somewhat to her own surprise, she realizes that there is nothing unexpected about any of this. It simply seems to fit the peculiar nature of her life, like one scene following another as envisioned by a playwright intent on the most amusing of spectacles. First set, theater. Intermission. Second set?
Town, ledge near well. Raining. Your move, little Ink. Don't forget your lines.

Nathaniel. Up ahead, a pair leaves the smithy. It's clear they are trying to cover their hands and even at this distance Ink spots the bandages wrapped around the man's hands. The rain patters down around her and something in it tells her the smithy is where she needs to go to meet this unknown man and help him take an unspecified throne.

Well then. Ink checks her clothes quickly, backpack and the usual frayed cloak and many pocketed, well-worn garb. Everything exactly as it should be.
And everything exactly as she wasn't wearing it minutes ago.
Shaking her head, she raises her arms skyward to let the rain wash over her. It’s soothing. With so many things one must roll with the punches, whittle at structure until what remains is the answer to some question never asked out loud.

So she is a traveler, come looking for shelter. And the smithy door was open so I thought I'd have a look inside. Hi, what's your name? Nathaniel? Huh, nice to meet you. It is admittedly a foolhardy plan. There must be a better way to spin this web.

Waiting a moment to let the couple ahead of her walk further away, the bandaged hands conspicuous in their attempted subterfuge, a little note of discord plays across her mind. Strangers meeting on a rainy night is always how the stories start.

[Cardea]

Smithy

The walking stick swings towards Nathaniel's feet, but after years of experience dealing with his Grandmother's swings, he knows to move them in time. She's old now, older than she's ever seemed. She swings it now towards Magnus, though the wood bounces off of his breastplate. "Natty, we taught you better than that. Magnus, you know better than to taunt."

Uncle Quentin pulls Grandmother back, calming her down. He turns back to the both of you. He speaks, though he sounds shaken, like he's rehearsed this a thousand times, but when finally said to you... he falters, his voice breaking sometimes. "Nathaniel, this man isn't crazy. He's come a long way and you should at least respect that.

"Remember those stories your Dad taught you, when he still could? How he spoke about people on that distant mountain, where light doesn't go? This man is from there. And he's been assigned to you. I'm too bound here to go. Your Grandmother is too old. Your Aunt Tina and Uncle Kallin are too frail. Your Dad is... well, you know how he is.

"Look, there's... there's a lot going on here, Nathaniel, and I can explain most of it later on, but you need to know two things right now.

"One, that you're the Heir to the throne of Aulem. The man that sits on that throne is your relative, and is destroying these nations even as we speak. You need to accept this.

"And two, that spell that your Uncle Kallin cast? Its finished. In a few minutes you're going to meet a few new people who are going to help you take back the throne. They won't know it yet, though. The spell finds people who should be here to help you, who would help you, but they don't know it ahead of time. You need them on your side, lad."

Outside the window to the street, you see a dark figure standing. It is slender in build. And the door is still wide open.

Ink

A man is not far off, and he seems to be staring intently at the odd couple; he stands on the opposite side of the smithy sign from you, some thirty feet away. Though rain soaks your vision, you can make out some of his face: A clean face, and almost... blank... eyes. He seems too well dressed for some random passerby.

Inside the smithy, though barely, you can make out the sound of wood hitting wood, and then wood hitting metal. You are standing outside the window, and you can make a few figures out in the dim light.

Lilian

You walk through the streets towards where the flash was, making your way down this humble village. The buildings never make it past three stories, though those are rare, and they all share a somewhat similar style. Rain dims most of the paint of them down a peg, but they all stand firm and strong. The street is simple, and your steps are dampened in sound as you move.

Not a few moments have gone by, and you find yourself standing at a well, and to the right, you see a sign above one building labeled Quentin's Quelling: Smithy. The door to it is open. An old, hunched couple passes you by, and they stop for a moment, almost disbelieving that you are there at all, but they walk past you, probably headed home. Outside the smithy, you see a slight figure standing outside the window; not far from it, you see a man staring at the couple as they walk by. On the other side of the well, you see another figure, though you can't make out his face through the well's covering.

Raelyn

The smell pulls you in, and you follow. Miraculously, the rain doesn't hide the scent, and you walk through a few streets before it becomes suddenly stronger. The town itself is like... a rich man's poor district, with small homes that have been made well. Nothing in this town talks or even screams of importance, but... there are no coincidences. And you find yourself standing in front of a well, when the smell becomes stronger again.

To your left, you see a small sign, and through the rain, you make out: Quentin's Quelling: Smithy, it door wide open. You know, without a doubt, this smell is coming from there. But outside its window, you see a small, slight figure, hooded. Beyond it you see a figure standing, unmoving, looking down the road towards your direction. And in the corner of your eye, you make out another one, though its head is blocked by the well's covering.


Halkad

Figures appear down the road. Two by the fountain, and one by the smithy window, but your focus is on the two figures who left the smithy. You hear, faintly, the sound of wood hitting wood, and then hitting metal.

Your mind reaches out, but you feel a block from both of their minds, though one of them... barely blocks out your mental push. You hear static. Nothing.

OOC: Detect Thoughts has a range of 60 ft. exact, which is 20 yards. You plan that?

[RCgothic]

Lilian

This place is much larger than Bywater, and I’m amazed by the height of the buildings! Most people back home live in single-floor cottages, with only Lord Percy’s (admittedly grand) house having two floors, but here they’re on every street, and some even have three! There are more people around than I’d expect for the weather and the time of night, but I put it down to the curious ways of city-dwellers.

I glance up again at the sign of the smithy whilst I work up the nerve to knock at the open door. I sure hope they’re kind to strangers here… Jess sits next to me, leaning against my leg, and I give her a quick scratch between the ears. I’m about to knock when I realise the figure by the window isn’t just standing about, but is actually peering in. I don’t especially like standing around in the rain, but I feel I have to say something.

”Hello? Are you looking for something?” I question the figure.

[delta639]

Halkad

Halkad blinks in surprise, then frowns as he feels his mental probe so simply deflected. That doesn't happen often. The couple must have stronger minds than your typical court diplomat. Suspicious...

His rising thoughts of suspicion are halted upon noticing the two figures, not to mention one dog, having approached the smithy, and he smirks upon hearing the young woman's honest question. Well, perhaps I wasn't the only target brought here tonight...these others should heighten my odds of survival if it is a trap. Best to investigate, regardless.

He walks idly forward towards them, one hand dipping inside a pocket of his robe and withdrawing a fist-sized gold-and-purple crystal. An observer looking closely enough could notice deceptively fragile-looking attachments to the stone: arms and legs, though that wouldn't be an easy guess.

The majority of his mind maintaining concentration on the power, Halkad dips forward and places his psicrystal on the muddy ground, still a good 10 feet behind the figures by the window. Go scout ahead inside the smithy, he instructs it telepathically. Stay hidden as best you can, and relay any observations back to me. He watches as it scuttles inside the open doorway, before clearing his throat and speaking.

"I'd be interested in knowing that myself...although I'd direct the question to the both of you. What drew you to this place, this night?"


(Ink, Lillian, both of you make DC 17 Will saves against read thoughts. Probably Spot and Listen checks, as well.)


Psicrystal moves up to 25 feet inside the smithy, tries to find a hiding place from which to observe.
Psicrystal's Hide: [roll0]
Psicrystal's Move Silently: [roll1]
Psicrystal's Listen, once inside: Take 10+6 = 16.
Ametrine has 40-foot radius telepathic "sight", as well. But if it'd be needed, Spot: [roll2]
OOC: Indeed I did. I thought it reasonable to assume that Halkad would know the ranges and limits of his powers, or at least one that he would have used as frequently as this.

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

"I'm sorry Gram. Won't happen again, I promise." The younger man tries to assuage his grandmother's fears, and hopefully calm her down sufficiently that his uncle is able to coax her into resting. Regardless, Nathaniel looks to the Edgewater and just shrugs. "Sorry for calling your mental health into question, but..." Before the young man can finish his statement his uncle confirms Magnus' story, and imparts further information.

However, Nathaniel just watches his uncle with a mask of confusion across his face. Did everyone spontaneously take leave of their senses? There's no way he was some kind of long-lost royalty. That was the kind of stuff out of fairy tales. Never mind the stuff about magic screwing with other people's lives, or that this guy was supposed to be some kind of servant. Nathaniel just couldn't wrap his head around being royalty. What was he expected to do with that information? As far as the young man was concerned, he was still a farmer.

Nathaniel just pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. It was late, he was tired, and everything seemed crazy at the moment. He'd prefer dealing with it in the morning. But this wasn't the kind of thing to put off until sunrise, and when his uncle finishes Nathaniel just shrugs. "Okay. I'm a prince. That seems iffy, but I'll swallow it. However... Taking back the throne? That's got to be some kind of craziness talking, because it sounds like you want me to start a war."

Nathaniel simply shakes his head at the thought of starting a war. Especially over something as simple as being a prince. That's just a word to the young man, but people's lives were something different all together. Nathaniel's voice grows quiet and somber as he speaks of his Uncle's mad idea. "If I try to take back the throne then people will die, Uncle. Good people, honest people, people who don't care one wit who is sitting on the throne. And it'll be my fault that they die, because I wanted to sit on a comfy throne. Do you want me to bloody my hands over a title, Uncle? Because it sure sounds like you've got everything all figured out, and are all ready to go."

Nathaniel sighs, as he doesn't expect an answer from his Uncle. The young man simply voiced his own inner turmoil, but phrased it as a question directed at the person he saw as a problem. Regardless, Nathaniel looks to his Grandmother. Why hadn't she told him before? Why not raise him with the idea that he was an heir, and thus prepare him for this day? Why now?

Nathaniel kills his thoughts, then turns to the Edgewater. "And what about you? Legends say the mountain the Edgewaters live on is cold enough to freeze a man's blood in his veins. Think you can live with the deaths of honest people on your conscience?" Nathaniel's so caught up in wrestling with his own morality he doesn't notice the figure at the door, and simply glares at the Edgewater as if the man were some kind of monster come to ruin his life.

[Fibinachi]

Ink

Through the blurry windowpanes a scene was unfolding, albeit the sounds were muffled and the words indistinct. A figure of almost hulking mass stood just a head taller than someone nearly half his width, yet seemingly the slighter man was not shrinking away from the larger of the pair. Perhaps the blacksmith and his son? Even with the dim light, they had the builds for it.

Their discussion was probably important, interesting even, and if she listened enough she might figure out something to do about this Nathaniel. Could be it was even him, in there, talking to a man the size of a small mountain. It would fit the peculiar nature of the day.
Her eavesdropping was interrupted by question, carried by a friendly voice. It was startling; someone had snuck up on her. Or, rather, walked up and said something while she was occupied. Turning away from the window, trying to fit her features into an expression of surprise rather than shock, she saw a woman. Through the rain the speakers outline was blurry, light brown hair plastered close to a curved form. Much like the bedraggled dog next to her. A large dog, good legs, so a travelling companion rather than a pet. A dog worthy of a shepherd on high hills or a hunter in the woods.

"Hello? Are you looking for something?”

The same dog that gave a brief bark at something unseen, perhaps an errant scent or stray cat somewhere in the rain. The sharp sound punctuated the question. Ink starred, lost for words, for how does one explain that you are starring through a window at others, pilfering secrets?

A second traveler stepped out the rain, this the man with blank eyes from before. He had been standing further away, hadn't he? The rain seemed to swirl around him, some combination of water and darkness and for a slipping second it was as if something brushed across her. Ink shuddered, and then shook her head. The water drops were making faces at her again.

"...although I'd direct the question to the both of you..."

This made three strangers meeting on a rainy night. One unmistakably beautiful and with a dog, another too well dressed for this sort of weather, too sharp somehow. Had someone sent them, too, as parts of a game?

"I was looking shelter, the door was open, I thought I would look inside to see if anyone was there then ask for directions to somewhere warm, cozy. Been on the road a long time. Travelling. To this place. I'm... I'm Ink. Travelling scribe."
This she could do, talk and make up convincing, reasonable platitudes along the way. Although Ink, as she finished and took a breath, realized something.
She did not know where this place was.

[Sodar]

RousseauRovere.

This town was terribly inconspicuous. Then again, they all usually are.
There no point in dilly dallying any longer. He had seen at least three figures eying the smithy, him and each other, perhaps they were guided to this place as well. If such was the case he would know soon enough.
He walked to the door, passing the newly formed group. Those who spared a glance would see a young man, with a trimmed beard and short black hair wet from the downpour. The rain didn't seem to bother him at all, he actually seemed to enjoy it as he was smiling slightly with the hood of his cape down. He was wearing simple clothes, but a shimmering just above his shirt revealed a mithril armor. A short sword was strapped to his belt, though it didn't seem particularly worn out. He nodded politely and he addressed the charming young brunette blocking the entrance.
“ Excuse me Miss. “
Slipping past her he knocked on door a few times, looking around the Smithy.

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus Brethencourt Edgewater

Magnus bows his head and apologizes to Grandmother and Quentin with a formal intonation.

"People are dying already, Mil-Nathaniel, and it won't stop until Callance's wrongs are righted. I will do my best to stay the bloodshed, if it is your wish, but I'm afraid some deaths will be inevitable. You can't start the feast without first hunting the boar."

Nathaniel's questioning cuts a bit deep, though.

"I've had to kill honest men myself," Magnus admits with a tiny bite on his lower lip, "And not all of them were truly bad people. But it doesn't take a liar to further an evil cause, and the good always have to work twice as hard to see their dawn."

[RCgothic]

Lilian

The young woman at the window seems startled! I regard her with curiosity, for it seems we share many similarities: tall; slim; wrapped in a travelling cloak and apparently seeking shelter from the storm. I have a few inches on her, and several pounds too. My appraisal is cut short as Jess suddenly stands, barking noisily in alarm at something that skitters past her nose. I don't quite catch what it is, but I manage to stop her charging through the open doorway by quickly placing a restraining hand on her back - an unspoken command to stay.

Then the men turn up, one after another, one pushing right past me. He's got the right idea... this rain is incessant! Not really sure what to make of them - they're both dressed more smartly than I'm used to, but they seem polite enough.

Then the girl answers the man's question - her name is Ink! I smile at her -it sounds like we're in much the same situation, as I'd guessed! I find myself warming to her. "I'm Lilian - I've just got here too! I was looking for shelter and saw the light. I think we should follow that guy inside - there's no reason to stand about in the rain!"

[delta639]

Halkad

Halkad's gaze flows over the women, dog, and even the newly-appeared brunet who pushes his way past them, scanning each person with his power. His eyes, and focus, fall onto the dark-haired girl-

The telepath flinches backwards, repressing a gasp at the mental apparition that appears to him. What in the Nine Hells... His eyes flicker across the street, and he reaches for the crossbow concealed inside his cloak-

Calm down! It's just a mirage, there's nothing else here.

He blinks, and shakes his head briefly, closing his eyes- when he opens them again, there's nothing but the rain and the two women. ...Hrm. Looks like you're right, for once. Calming himself and leaving his weapon untouched, he focuses in on the dark-haired woman's response to his inquiry.

...And resists the urge to frown deeply, as the shorter woman too-nervously sputters out a few words portraying herself as just another traveler, clearly covering for some ulterior motive. A scribe named Ink? Really? You couldn't come up with anything a little less obvious, like Book or Paper?
You're not nearly as funny as you think you are...
Even if her thoughts are hidden from him for the moment, it's easy for him to make them out as falsehoods, or at least deflections from her genuine motives.

But judging by this Lilian's cheerful response to Ink, she has no such doubts nor worries. Halkad raises an eyebrow- she's really taking the other woman's words at face value? Surely anyone with ears could make out the hesitancy and uncertainty in her words...he thinks, glancing back and forth between the two women.

However, thoughts don't lie even when words do, and Halkad's glance at Lilian's mind only corroborates her honesty. The thoughts of an innocent, optimistic young woman, not yet wise to the ways of the world...it's been quite a while since Halkad's come across anyone like that.

He's certainly not going to mistake this Ink for being the same, at any rate. Halkad smiles, and bows his head to the two women. "A pleasure to meet you, Ink, Lilian. While the rain is bothersome, let's not overwhelm the inhabitants of this smithy with uninvited-"

He halts, as Ametrine relays a line of spoken words from inside. "Right Callance's wrongs?" An "evil cause"? Perhaps these people could prove to be allies, after all...

"...On second thought, we might as well. Go on in, ladies first." He looks down to Ink. "Why don't you lead the way, miss Ink? After all, you were the first of us to reach...'this place', as you so eloquently put it." He smirks at her, and gestures towards the doorway.

(Sodar, could you make a Will save vs DC 17 in the OOC thread?)

[Fibinachi]

"Pleased to meet you, Lillian. Sirs. I would, but someone else already did. And arrived first. It could get crowded. And the raindrops are friendly - Nice, the rain is nice. I think we've got their attention by the barking " Ink finished by curtsying inexpertly, straightening up with a smile and a brief wince as yet more water runs down her back.

Ink, travelling scribe.Neither of the two seemed like they were going to make the usual joke. She waited a moment just to give them an opening, get it over with. Nothing happened. This was a turning into a very surprising day indeed. And now the game was even getting fun, if cold. Two people inside, possibly more and four out here meant six, at the least. All together in the same smithy on the same rain soaked night. A tall woman, a hulking man, a smaller man, someone in a hurry and someone with blank eyes. Ah, and the dog. She looked from face to face (to snout), trying to gather up some impression of personality from rain kissed clues.

"You are all looking for shelter from the rain, incidentally and identically?"

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The younger man just shakes his head. "Maybe people are dying because of their king. But how does that compare to how many would die if I start a war? And I'm not talking about boar-hunting or one or two deaths. I'm talking armies and open battle. I won't have any of that. I can't have any of that." The young man looks visibly distressed at the thought of a battle occurring because of his reappearance, but he quickly regains his composure.

"If I'm gonna do this, then I'm gonna do it my way. No wars, no open fighting, and most definitely no one needs to know. This secret stays between us, and dies with us if necessary." Nathaniel sighs, and his shoulders sink as if he were taking on a great burden. "We'll go see the King under... some kind of pretense. I dunno, I'll figure it out in the morning. Maybe we can get some nobleman to get us an audience. Either way, I'll ask him to do what's right, and no doubt he will. So we won't have to deal with a civil war." Once again, Nathaniel's too caught up in his own thoughts and worries to notice the dark shadow at the window. However, the knock at the door brings him out of his trance. He turns to look at the window and the door, then sighs. "Well, Mr. Edgewater, time to earn your keep right? Do you mind seeing who's at the door? Oh, and, be careful please."

That said, Nathaniel shrugs his bow off his shoulder and readies it. He retrieves an arrow from his quiver, notches it, but doesn't draw the bowstring back quite yet. No one would visit this late, so the first thing that comes to Nathaniel's mind involves thieves. Polite thieves, but thieves all the same. Nathaniel backs up until he's near the wall, so as to put as much distance between himself and the front door as possible.

[Sodar]

Rousseau Rovere.

What they were doing was technically intrusion. A very loud and incredibly obnoxious one, but intrusion nevertheless. Still, he had no right to block the entrance from them, so he moved aside so the rest of the group could enter.
“Sorry for barging in like that, but the rain” 'is making the girls wet' “is terribly unforgiving this evening.”
The other man walked in first, but while they were deciding Ross could get a good look at everyone. First was the raven haired girl 'Screw my vacations, she could definitely use a week long trip to the hot springs.' she was obviously lying about being a traveler. 'A fugitive, perhaps? Stressed, confused, but well prepared for a journey. Curious'.
Then there was this clueless brunette. 'Nice tits' She seemed naive, but goodhearted. 'She's either acting or fresh out of some village. If it's the latter she's lucky I met her before she got raped. Oh thank you dear group of random strangers for inviting me to this house in the middle of the night, how could I ever repay you. Ugh, I should have a talk with this girl.'
And then was this guy. Looking at him his face didn't even flinch but his thoughts were clear. 'Slick. Polite. Probably dangerous.'
Focused on analysing the group he didn't even notice when Magnus sneaked up to him.

[delta639]

Halkad

"Reasonable points, miss Ink," he says absently, still focusing on the relayed words from inside. "But personally, my motivations for being here are somewhat..." His voice trails off, eyes widening. Civil war? An audience with Callance? Could this man really be...

...It's a possibility, at least. If so, I'll need to dissuade him from this course of action. Callance is difficult to convince when others' ideas of what's right contrast with his own, and he'd have a simple response for anyone who'd threaten a civil war.

"Excuse me," Halkad mutters, pushing his way through the doorway after the black-haired man- and struggling to keep his expression neutral as he does so, the latter's thoughts playing across his mind. Seems perceptive enough, if a bit...crass, even compared to most other men I've come across. Reasonably compassionate, at least: he shouldn't be a problem if I don't provoke him- no, he's not the important one here. Don't get distracted.

He has no need to look around the room as he enters- Ametrine's been keeping him updated with a running account of the events, from its vantage point, and Halkad already knows everyone's location.

Still, the fact that one of the young men has been readying a dangerous-looking bow, and the other -Edgewater, presumably- was previously wielding a steaming bastard sword, leaves Halkad with the impression that things could get dicey rather quickly if anyone's intentions are misjudged.

...Well, might as well get this on the table. It should give them pause, make us seem like more than common burglars, even if I'm wrong. "Good evening, everyone. Was it one of you who called me to this place?"

(More will saves vs read thoughts: Nathaniel, Magnus, any relatives still in the room.
...I think I'll have to justify using this power a bit less frequently in the future. Seems quite a hassle for all concerned.)

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The thin young man casually pulls his bowstring back as he raises his bow up to aim at the first person to step through the door. That just happened to be Halkad. That's one. No armor, no weapon, a caster? I sure hope I don't have to shoot him. A spell in this range might hit Gram. "You can stop right there", Nathaniel says as soon as Halkad gets inside the door. The words from his mouth echo just a second faster in his mind. "If you're here to rob the place then you can just turn around and start walking. I don't want you to lose your life over a few silver."

As soon as Halkad doesn't look around, and instead looks straight to the people inside, Nathaniel gets the answer to his unspoken question. Definitely a caster. Was that rat from earlier one of his or something? Was he just watching through the walls? If I hit him in the stomach it shouldn't be fatal, so I know where to aim if he starts casting. Nathaniel lets Halkad speak, but doesn't lower his bow or relax the string. Instead, he simply aims a bit lower than normal so as to not kill the intruder in the event that he needs to shoot. What the hell kind of question is that? Well, I guess we do look kind of shady given that we're meeting in the middle of the night. "Do we look like the type to meet strangers in dark rooms at night? Hands up nice and slowly, please."

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus
Should I have rolled spot to notice the psicrystal? Alertness is a key part of being a bodyguard.
Magnus nods to Nathaniel, but he has a bit of a disagreement to voice, "Open war might not be a necessity, but I doubt that Callance the Second would let you just come in and take the throne from him, or that the people won't notice when he is suddenly replaced. If he were the sort to-"

And then there are people at the door. Magnus's hand goes to his sword at first, but he leaves it in it's sheath, and bows his head to Nathaniel.
"I can handle this."

Magnus holds the door open and stands in front of it, politely giving his head a slight bow and showing to the visitors that his free hand is empty of any weapons. He looks them over with his good eye, his left eye milky and surrounded by darkened scar tissue, and thinks to himself, Well, life has certainly brought together an unlikely lot, with a tiny bit of sad nostalgia for his questing days, the freedom and heroism of it all, with no need for restraint or politics in smiting wrongdoers.

And now one is speaking. Not even introducing himself to the true royal family! How could-right. They probably don't know. And if they do, there's some questioning to be done.

He turns his head to look at his gracio Nathaniel.

"Did you call for anyone, Nathaniel?" he asks, his accent putting a slight pause in the middle of Nathaniel's name, and keeping his body in the way of anyone trying to enter. His shield leans against the wall he once stood by, and he reasons he could grab it quick enough if anyone tried anything, and Snout was within shouting distance, drawing his sword would be reasonably-

No, no, it would probably be best not to draw attention. For now, he would be polite.

For now.

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The young man visibly relaxes when Magnus steps into the doorway. At least Gram can't get involved now. The taut bowstring relaxes as well as Nathaniel aims away. The boy they called a prince just shakes his head concerning Magnus' question.

"The only person I'd trust to know about tonight is tall, scruffy, and too nosy by half for you to keep out. So no, I didn't call on anyone. Unless this is more of your plan, Uncle?" Nathaniel shoots a glare at his Uncle as he speaks. Still haven't ruined my life sufficiently, have you? Now you've got to get these people involved, so I can't just stay quiet about this whole mess.

[delta639]

Halkad

The telepath blinks slowly, registering the bowman's words and, more importantly, thoughts. Looks like those peaceable words of his earlier weren't an act, then. This one seems quite sharp, and not only concerned for the lives of his family members, but even one who he suspects of threatening them. Intriguing...and he could purportedly replace Callence, at that? Well then.
Looks like you might have gotten lucky at last.

Halkad nods, raising his hands obligingly. "I mean no harm to any of you. Robbery is not my goal in being here tonight...merely appeasing curiosity, and following what I believe to be a spell or similar effect. I could be mistaken, of course, in which case I apologize for intruding." He shrugs, watching the young man lower his bow.

Halkad's gaze briefly turns to the warrior who'd bowed to the man at least ten years his younger, before returning to the archer. "Nathaniel- assuming I may call you that- I'm not in the habit of judging character based on outward appearances, but I'll take your word for it that you are not, indeed, that kind of person. However, if you'd be willing to indulge me this meeting, I believe that I can help you." A hand trails down to the pouch by his side, fist encapsulating and withdrawing his ioun stone enchanted with continual flame. "And do something about the darkness in there, for that matter, if you'll allow me."

He glances back to the others. "I'm less certain about my three companions here, but...they may have been drawn here in a manner similarly to myself. It's up to you and your bodyguard whether to hear them out, of course."

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

"I don't think I told you my name", Nathaniel says both verbally and mentally, "and I would like it if you didn't spy on me in the future." Nathaniel crosses his arms as Halkad goes on about judging characters, helping him, and the darkness in the building. Sigh. Spellcasters always trying to learn things they have no right to. At least he can't read my mind. "Alright, just bring those friends of yours inside before they catch a cold. Mr. Edgewater, could you let them through?" With that said, Nathaniel maneuvers himself to stand beside his Grandmother, and a little in front of her so he could intervene himself between her and the visitors. Given the way things have gone this evening, he's substantially less concerned about his uncle. Still concerned, but substantially less so.

Wait, people are sleeping... "No bright lights, please. The neighbors are still asleep." Nathaniel just rubs the bridge of his nose, and waits for Magnus to let people in. I just hope there's not too many of them.

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

Magnus steps aside and holds the door open for the four visitors, keeping a careful eye on them but affording them a slight smile and a polite nod of the head. He eyes the magic with curiosity. He'd adventured with mages long ago, during his questing years, but he'd never learned any magic for himself, and he is still wary around it.

"This is not my hearth, but I welcome your presence, so long as you cause no trouble," he says in the warmest voice an Edgewater can speak in. Which, incidentally, is just below the freezing temperature of water.

[RCgothic]

Lilian

I find this sudden onslaught of people bewildering! One moment I’m about to knock and ask for shelter, and suddenly I’m caught up in some sort of… well, I don’t really know what this is. I look uncertainly down at Jess, who is nearly shaking with nervous energy; whatever she sensed earlier seems to have rattled her and she pads in an excited circle before suddenly jumping up at the well-dressed man who’d first spoken to me with an excited bark - nearly bundling him past the giant of a man holding the door. I cringe inwardly at the muddy paw prints left on the rump of the man’s coat.

"Oh my! I’m very sorry! Jess! Down girl!" Firmly admonished, she tries to hide behind my legs with a guilty look and her tail between her legs. Sheepishly I file in after the others and pick a space near to Ink. Jess tries to shake off all the water in her fur, but I’ve firmly commanded her to sit so the effect is less than impressive. Miko takes the opportunity to jump down and stretch – stiff from the hours spent wrapped in my coat – before weaving between peoples’ legs in search of a warm spot.

I take in the room; the tension in the air is immediately palpable. It’s busy in here with eight of us and two animals, and almost everyone is wearing a serious expression. One of the men – I guess he’d be quite handsome if he weren’t scowling so – has a weapon drawn, and I begin to wonder what I’ve got myself into.

"Do you have any idea what’s going on?" I attempt to whisper surreptitiously to Ink.

[delta639]

Halkad

"Of course," Halkad says with a dip of his head, and stows the illuminating item back into his pouch. Of course you'd like it if I didn't spy on you, that is...but I'll make no promises in that regard. If you truly are who I suspect, Nathaniel, you must be watched very closely, for the good of the realm- knowing things I 'have no right to' has always been my business, regardless.

And I'm no spellcaster, as well. I've had that impressed upon me rather thoroughly over the years... he thinks.

The attempted rising of a memory is interrupted as Halkad feels the heavy weight of two paws on his back, and stumbles forward half a step. He whirls, looking down on the sheepdog. What, it's scared of me? Nervous?
The dog noticed Ametrine, didn't it? It might be sensitive to your active power as well, some animals are. I suppose we can consider that karma for your spying, yes?

"It's nothing to trouble yourself over," he assures Lilian, ignoring the foreign thoughts with a grimace. "Should wash out easily enough." Especially considering that the genuine clothes he's wearing under the veil are of much more common make than they appear, and could be replaced with nothing more than a few coppers.

He steps inside past the Edgewater, making a show of properly surveying the room's occupants this time, and leans against a wall.

"So, Nathaniel..." he begins. "While I could likely make a guess as to the motivations bringing us here, I feel that it would be more productive to request an explanation from you. Or your uncle, if you suspect him implicit in the deed.

I think that miss Lilian, at least, is understandably rather confused as to the goings-on," he says with a pointed glance at the bewildered brunette. She can assume I heard her whisper. It's half-true, at any rate.

[Sodar]

Rousseau Rovere

Moving a bit to the side he calmly took off his haversack and placed next to the window. Easy to grab while making a dash out of the building should things go awry, though such possibility was unlikely. Observing how events unfold from the corner of his eye, he quietly removed his soaking cloak and hanged it on the nearby furniture. His demonic tail now dangled freely, swinging lazily through the air. Not bothered at all by the inevitable more and less subtle stares he turned around to give Nathaniel a polite bow.
“Once again I apologize for the intrusion. My name is Rousseau Rovere and” he chuckled softly “there were... signs... pointing towards this place. Metaphorically speaking. So as our friend here suggested, I believe we would all appreciate getting some explanations.” He smiled a bit wider than he should, revealing his sharp teeth. This whole experience was so surreal he had troubles taking it seriously.

[Fibinachi]

The hulking man invites them in and passing besides him is a cold reminder of her own size. He dwarfs everyone in the room, some towering protective presence.

Inside the smithy the air is sudden clashing contrast to the rain and the cold. It's a place of industry, dedication, metal shaped by hammer and will and probably customers complaining about plows and horseshoes. Cozy.
Ink slinks in and tries to remain unobtrusive and take over a corner to observe everyone with curious eyes. Beyond the shadow of the mountainous man is a Nathaniel, bow notched, and what can only be his family. It's the eyes and posture that gives it away. The woman from before soon finds a place next to her, and Ink tries to welcome her with a smile, everyone else filling into the room in orderly fashion.

Then the questions start.

"Do you have any idea what’s going on?"

Lilian whispers the words with conspicuously casual air, the same friendly voice from before weighed down with confusion.
Oh, if ever there was a loaded question with no easy answer.

Everyone is seizing up territory, each other - the room. Whoever these people are and whereever they all hail from, they are not ordinary wanderers. Too many looks of consideration and too much idle power. The air is a mix of worry, bewilderment and outright paranoia and it's interesting, terrifying and exhilarating all in one go. Yet Lilian seems nice, trustworthy, so she deserves some kind of answer. As if Ink could readily explain any of this. Ink turns to respond with as soothing a smile as possible, adding a wink for good measure.

You've been swept up in game of kings between a lost heir and an usurper with other people and powers playing on the side. No, wait, no.
I want you to refrain from telling him about us, Ink.


Her smile falters for a moment as words slide across her mind, just as a cat (A cat? Where from?) rubs itself against her leg. This is going to take some careful, considerate wording. And it means she has a secret. She knows why everyone is here. Victims of circumstance or spell, some kind of sending and retrieving trick. Brought together by people seeking something. Ink casts a hurried glance around the room. Everyone else, everyone else!, has the looks of someone who have come some way or live nearby.
They did not just open their eyes next to a well.

"No. I mean yes. It's... I mean. Think of it as a story. Strangers meeting on a rainy night? Mystery and magic? It'll be all right. Promise. I think we're all the subjects of a, of a kind of joke. Your dog is nice. Sorry, that just slipped out.

Perhaps whispering will allow the others to ask their questions in louder voices and state their niggling, quibbling worries.
Another swift glance around the room reveals that people have found their places, spread out in a semi circle around Nathaniel. He keeps his distance. The boy is sheltering his grandmother who seems not at all surprised that so many people have entered the smithy.

The man from before, the one in a hurry, is taking off his cloak and as he drapes it over something to dry he spins and executes a neat bow. Slick. And he has a tail.

A tail. A tail and teeth sharper than the canines on some predators.

And in the end, with secrets, strangers and the threat of an arrow through the throat by a boy who wishes to protect those dear to him, with the dog and the cat and the man whoose sword is apparently large enough for two smaller men AND ARE THOSE ICE CRYSTALS ON THE EDGE OF THE SCABBARD and why does the old, friendly lady look not the least surprised?

Ink giggles unconsciously, boiling over. Shaking her head she tries to hold it in and suppress the urge to curl up in a ball to laugh and laugh and laugh. She mostly manages. It's not really that this situation is really funny in a base, comedic sense. But what must it look like? Strangers showing up to pledge aid to take a throne that he does not actually want, because, well, that would endanger people's lives. Honorable and idealistic - even beautiful, perhaps - but interesting. Maybe even the right choice all in all. And problematic.

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The young man gives Halkad a confused look. Do I look like I know what's going on? The young man sighs, then tries his best to explain. "I'm not sure on the specifics, and my uncle probably has a better explanation, but apparently my other uncle cast some kind of spell or something that drew innocent people into my problems." Nathaniel threw a glare at his uncle in the process, then shakes his head and continues onward. "I don't know what happened to interrupt your lives, or what happened to bring you here, but it's best that you go home and ignore what happened here tonight. It'll be safer for you all."

Nathaniel pays no heed to the tail, or the animals now running loose in the smithy. Even if he did see them, he simply wouldn't care one way or another. He had larger concerns to think about. I can't let these people get caught up in my problems. At the same time, I can't let the town get caught up in my problems either. I need to get ready to leave. Why did you get these people involved? Nathaniel looks to the assembled group. "Just be sure to stay safe on your way home, please."

[RCgothic]

Lilian

A mystery? A Story? I don't fully understand what Ink's talking about, but I can't help but break out in a dazzling smile when she complements my dog and giggles. Jesse flops onto the floor with her tongue hanging out, which nearly sets me off as well!

The mention of magic though, that caught my attention. I've never met anyone else who can do the things I can (though I've read about them), and I find myself filled with a desire to meet this man's uncle. And Rousseau's tail! And teeth! I find I do actually feel like I've stumbled into one of the fairytail stories my dad used to tell when I was small!

A summoning spell? I guess that could explain the coincidence of us all turning up at once as though by random chance, but why me? Most of these people are clearly mighty warriors or wise men, but why me? I'm just a shepherd gir- well okay, I'm not just a shepherd girl. But surely someone else would be a better choice?

It suddenly doesn't seem to matter - the man they called Nathaniel doesn't want us here. And I was just starting to get excited too! My face falls as he suggests we all return home. No, I can't do that...
"Actually I can't go home. That's why I'm here - or why I thought I was here - to seek food and shelter for a while in return for my aid in the smithy. Or I could pay." I adopt my largest puppy-dog eyes - I know I'm being slightly manipulative, but I really don't want to go back outside tonight!

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The young man just shrugs at Lilian's statement. "Sorry, but whether you can stay here or not isn't my call. That'd be this... " ******* ... "man's call." Nathaniel looks to his uncle as she says that. Whether he's taken in by Lilian's eyes or not, he doesn't show it. I hope nothing happens when I leave. I'd hate to know she got killed because of my damned family. Instead, Nathaniel simply sighs. "But the town's always looking for hands and help, so it's not like everyone would turn you away. If this one doesn't take you in, then you might wanna try down the road a bit."

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

Magnus looks to Nathaniel as he closes the door behind the visitors. He walks up to the boy, putting himself between the newcomers and the heir, and whispers to Nathaniel.
"Nathaniel...these people are either here to help us by some work of your family or a powerful supporter, or are spies for someone who wishes you ill. If we send them out, we've either done ourselves a great disfavor, or assisted a dangerous enemy, I'm sure."

Magnus keeps his good eye on the group while he speaks, and notes their reactions to each other.

"Also, they might not know each other. And I suspect the animals they have have been used to spy on you previous to my entering. Or perhaps some form of spell."

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The young man shakes his head at Magnus as he returns the whisper. "If they're spies, then so be it. I never intend to return here after tonight so there won't be any reason to attack this place. But if they come with us and they die, then their deaths are on my conscience. I won't have innocent people involve themselves in my affairs, and believe me Magnus: This thing is my affair and mine alone."

Nathaniel continues when Magnus mentions the spying. "As far as spying, it's plainly obvious the thin elf-like one is a spellcaster of some sort. He likely spied on us prior to entering the room with some sort of spell. For all I know, he's still doing so. I do not like the gross abuse of another person's personal freedom, and wouldn't have someone who finds that acceptable in my employ anyway. As far as the other's... One's a shepherd, the second's crazy, and we don't know anything about the guy. If they're spies, then bringing them with us is foolish. If they're not, then they're innocents who aren't involved."

"It's safer for them if they don't get involved with me. It's safer for you too."

Naturally he thinks the same words he's saying, as he says them.

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

"Do you honestly believe you can do this with no more than the two of us? After what they did to your family? What they're doing to Irdina?" thoguhts run through Magnus's head of what he could say, but it is not his place. He is just as loathe to start a war or bring innocents along, but he's been taught since birth what it would likely take to complete this quest.

That, and while he is suspicious of these visitors, especially the spellcasters, something about them feels right.

The mountain of a mountain-man nods grimly.
"The choice is yours, but as your guardian I recommend you at least let them speak, first."

[delta639]

Halkad

Halkad gives an askance look to the man introducing himself as Rousseau Rovere. Fiend-blooded, eh? Interesting. Maybe he does deserve to be watched more closely, in that case.

As he makes out Nathaniel's words, both spoken and thought, a frown forms on his face and grows steadily deeper. This man is far, far too idealistic for his own good. He's going to get himself killed without someone that will actually question his choices, and that man Edgewater certainly won't fit the bill. He won't like me or my methods, but he's certainly going to need them, and it's imperative that I convince him of that. Other risks aside, this is too important to allow anything else.

"All right, then." he says, stepping forward out of his corner. "We can do this your way. No more spying-" With a thought, Halkad calls the psicrystal from the men's feet back to himself, letting Ametrine clamber up onto his shoulder. "No more powers-" He reluctantly dismisses his read thoughts power, and the sound of a thin chime resounds in the minds of all those previously affected. I've learned enough for the moment, at least. I can always manifest it again later. "No more spells."

The man's figure shimmers as the disguise self spell placed over him is dismissed. The fine clothes seemingly covering his body are replaced with a simple, peasant's outfit. Elvish ears revert to humanoid ones, and purple eyes to blue. Minor details of Halkad's face revert to their natural state, and he spreads his hands.

"There. But if I were you, Nathaniel, I would not be too quick to judge those who use supernatural means to protect themselves: I have enemies dangerous enough that when I am called by a mysterious summoning spell, I take precautions to check that its caster is not trying to kill me, even if such precautions involve invasions of privacy. You may not like my means of doing so, but they have protected me so far, and would prevent you from bringing your Mr. Edgewater to an early grave...Prince."

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

Not at all surprised by the sudden change in appearance or the spying, but definitely not okay with it, Magnus steps forward, using one hand to place Nathaniel behind him and the right to draw his sword and put it at Halkad's throat.

He sits there for a moment, a scowl across his face, his blade freezing any sweat that might form on the Kalashtar's throat.

"You might want to explain yourself a bit better than that," he says to Halkad, "Especially the parts where you have enemies following you here, and my supposed heading for an early grave. I won't have anyone threatening the family here."

[delta639]

Halkad

The psion looks briefly down at the blade, then up at its wielder, eyes unyielding. I could remove you from the timestream with but a thought, he's tempted to retort, or simply react, but he pushes down the initial surge of irritation. He's my ally in this, or will be at least, considering that he serves the heir: I shouldn't antagonize him more than necessary.
You might want to stop mentioning people's impending deaths...I'm fairly certain that tends to put them on edge.

He grunts. "My name is Halkad, and I am an enemy of King Callance the Second. I worked for him for much of my life, controlling and enabling the information that he was privy to, and his interactions with visitors to the royal court. However, my loyalty to him vanished when my line of work finally led me to a number of his dirty secrets...among other things, the real fates of Nathaniel's other family members." He glances over Magnus's shoulder at the man in question.

"That which I learned was enough to convince me that Callance was unfit to rule- a position which I'd imagine that you share, Mr. Edgewater- and I quit his service immediately. As a result, servants of the king have been attempting to track me down and kill me since, including a number of spellcasters. When brought here by his uncle's spell, I thought it necessary to observe you all for a time, and determine that you were not his assassins. Whom, incidentally, I highly doubt have followed me here, unless they are now capable of tracing teleportation." Admittedly, I'm still not certain about that Ink's loyalties...I'll watch how she ends up reacting to all this news.

"Moving on from that, my comment about you and an early grave was not a threat- merely a prediction as to the all but certain result if you go to face Callance by yourselves. He can and will kill you both if he sees Nathaniel as a threat, regardless of your intentions: and I'm fairly certain Nathaniel would not want that for you, Mr. Edgewater."

"You don't want innocent people to die in a civil war?" he asks Nathaniel over Magnus's shoulder. "Fine- I approve wholeheartedly, in fact, if that can be avoided. It will be exceedingly difficult, but should still be possible...if you accept my help, and abandon your plans for staying resolutely independent. Because I know a great deal of Callance's various political allies, and more importantly enemies, as well as what could be done to turn them to your side...which will be imperative, if you wish to survive the coming days."

[Fibinachi]

Ink

Ink is out of the loop for a minute as a spasm of giggling turned twitching devours her attention. Words are exchanged and whispers traded back and forth. The blank eyed man gives his name, Halkad, and performs a remarkable diplomatic gesture. In the following space, the warrior moves first to draw a blade which seems only part metal. And then they stand like a tableau of twitch decisions, neither flinching away. Declarations are made.

Ink recovers. The scene was funny before but this is definitively heading towards the tragicomic. A quick look at Lilian again reveals she is caught somewhere between what could be the softest expression of coy manipulation in the land and surprise. Ink takes a heartbeat to repeat her previous whisper in a low voice, audibly louder.
"It'll be all right. I promised. Take care of Jess, perhaps."

She seems smart. She will manage. But this is going nowhere, it's wet, anxious strangers in a room with access to weapons. And if the dog wags its tail, the cat rubs against the wrong leg or crystalline construct moves, people are going to die. Good thing Skitter is not around to add to the menagerie. Ink takes a deep breath, closing her eyes to focus, gathering up fragments of the day. Rain, shadows, strangers and fear, and probably in a dream somewhere someone laughing. It drowns out the confusion and the nibbling fear. Then she raises her voice.

"GENTLEmen! Calm yourselves, please. Neither noble bodyguards nor sly tricksters with good tricks need to die tonight. Your devotion to duty is admirable and you, your capacity for outwitting obviously demonstrated. If you both, - both -, would take a step back and allow Nathaniel to speak? He will ask his uncle, who may or may not know what spell, or compulsion, or geas drew us all here tonight. And then we will know or not know as the situation demands.

And then, noble knight and terse trickster, you can quip at each other. When we all know what is going on. Please? Everyone is confused and grasping at straws, kings or independence. And everyone, including me, are wet, worried or wondering. Neither conductive, one thinks, to friendly atmospheres. But no one of ill intent is here. So let's at least attempt to offer hospitality to strangers befitting of this impromptu inn. If your, yes your, uncle has or had designs in mind it may be the last imaginary inn anyone here sees for a while."

A little heavy on the archaic phrases and alliteration, but it was a good speech when an author wrote it for a scene of quarreling lovers and it was still a good speech, suitably adapted.

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

Nathaniel just watches as Halkad steps forward and shows his hand. Whether it was a show of solidarity, good-will, or a ploy to fool Nathaniel didn't really matter to the young man. "Protecting yourself is one thing, but invading another's personal privacy--whatever your reason or cause--is a horse of a different color, and I will not stoop so low. While I am glad you have stopped that does not change my opinion on the matter." Nathaniel responds by replacing his arrow in its quiver, and shouldering his bow with practiced grace and ease. A show of good-will in response to whatever kind of show Halkad was putting on. "And do not call me that. It's weird. Nathaniel will do." Nathaniel is clearly referring to the Prince jab with those words.

That said, Nathaniel does raise his hand when Magnus threatens Halkad. "Wait Magnus. He showed us his hand, for whatever reason. It would do us a great disservice to threaten him after he's rid himself of his advantage."

Even so, Nathaniel simply waits and watches as Halkad goes through his long spiel concerning his reasoning behind his disappearance from Callance's service. The young man doesn't make any comments until Halkad's finished, and simply watches the human-like man carefully. When Halkad does finish, Nathaniel opens his mouth to speak but the small crazy girl from earlier cuts him off. Nathaniel simply smiles, waits, and watches as she goes on about how they shouldn't fight and they should allow Nathaniel to speak. The young man waits patiently for her to finish, then nods and begins to speak after she's done.

"So you want to fight Callance? That's fine. I was intending to go to him and see what I can do to convince him to change his ways. The people of both countries cannot take more of this, and unless things change a war will start." Nathaniel sighs. "But I won't seek out his enemies. If I were to appear with his enemies at my back, what would he see besides an usurper aiming to take his throne? I do not care who rules. I only care that a war is avoided, whether it be internal to Aulem or between Aulem and her neighbors." The young man looks to the young crazy woman, and sighs. He was getting tired, and talking to his uncle would just irritate the young man further. Ideally, he could deal with the group in the morning. But things had to be addressed right now.

"While I commend your request to find out what's happened, I will be honest. I simply do not care. Whatever my uncle has done, the choice to become involved or not is yours now." Nathaniel looks to his grandmother, and nods. He pointedly does not look to his uncle, nor acknowledge the man. He turns back to the assembled group. "My name is Nathaniel Blackgate. Apparently, I'm some kind of heir or something. I don't really care to be honest, because it sounds like a hassle. However, I now have a power I did not before: The power to make Callance listen. Even if it is because I'm a threat to his rule, I can at very least make my case. This is my intention. I wish to go to Callance's court, meet with him, and convince him to stop oppressing this country. I hope to avoid a civil war, and to preserve as many lives as possible." Nathaniel looks to each of them in turn as he speaks, and finally settles on Magnus. He continues almost as if he were speaking to Magnus directly, but the words applied to everyone present.

"I do not intend to take the throne unless Callance refuses to turn away from this path. You are free to accompany me on this goal, but do not think there's anything in it concerning having a king or a prince as a companion. Because, if things go the way they should, I will still be a farmer." With that said, Nathaniel's shoulders sink as he wordlessly accepts his burden. "It's your choice to follow me or not. I will not begrudge you whatever your choices, and wish you the best if this is the last time I see you."

Unless stopped, Nathaniel bids goodnight to his grandmother then heads outside.

[Sodar]

Russo Rovere

He quietly observed the pandemonium, preferring to stick to the sideways for the moment. Once Halkad revealed his true nature he crouched to open his haversack and took out a simple book with a grey cover. He started perusing it, barely sparing a glance as the events unfolded, while still paying carefully listening to the discussion. Divided attention was one of those skills he was truly grateful for, especially since it made Lydia furious whenever he was able to keep up with their discussion while reading.
Confirming his suspicions he shut the book and stashed it back. To his surprise he noticed a black and white cat was trying to sneak a peek of the content of his sack. Rising a brow he waited for the cat to acknowledge his quest has failed, at which point he, or she as far as he knew, donned the most majestic posture possible and strode away.
'Someones familiar, no doubt. '

Standing back up he turned to the crowd, this time perfectly serious.
” Sir Blackgate, just for the record – if a spellcaster shows his palms are empty, it means he is still armed and still dangerous. And I must admit if it is true your uncle cast the spell that guided me here I would be delighted to meet him. It seems to be quite the masterpiece. “

“As for the other matter... “ he smiled sadly “You appear to neither possess the dedication nor, and I apologize if it offends you, the mental capacity to be a king. If it is true, if you are of the royal line, then as soon as you show your face at the court with such a plan Callance will have you, and all who are close to you, murdered. ”

Looking out through the window, he started thinking about Aulem, about the capital. So much potential wasted...
“But there are other ways.” he moved to block his exit. “If you so desire I could present you with alternatives. Perhaps later, once everyone calms down a bit. Especially you, since it's raining and it's night, hardly time to start a journey.”
He finished with a smile and stepped aside. Nathaniel seemed like a nice guy, would be a shame if something were to happen to him.

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The young man just smiles. "I find it amusing that you'll question my mental capacity, then step into my range. Were I anything like this Callance fellow then I'd likely strike you--or worse."

Nathaniel makes no aggressive move, but does back away to give the tiefling space. "More than that, I am offering our spellcasting friend a show of trust. More than he offered me before he violated my privacy. All souls reveal their true nature when trusted, even when trusting is undeserved. If I'm at the court, then Callance murders me... What happens? "King of Aulem kills Irdinian citizen in front of entire royal court." This country is already on the edge, and my death would martyr me. If I die, then the country finds itself at war. Callance isn't a fool, so he won't kill me publicly."

When the tiefling talks about alternatives Nathaniel just shrugs. "You're free to talk as much as you wish, but know that I won't involve innocents and have no interest for the throne."

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

Magnus smiles and lowers his blade. His grin is a small one, but it is filled with all the ice and stone one could expect from an Edgewater. He apologizes to Halkad and takes a step back, and follows Nathaniel on his interrupted trip to the door.
"Nathaniel, do you truly believe that the goings-on in that court ever actually reach the common folk? This is a family that got away with murdering and replacing an entire dynasty, their capacity subtlety is a bit greater than you think."

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The young man smiles. "That's why I intend to write a book about what happens. I'll leave it with someone I trust, and it'll make its way through the circles who want to read it. Trust me, Magnus. I don't intend to get myself killed for nothing."

[Sodar]

Russo Rovere

His smile faded as he listened to the young prince. “Mister Blackgate, I am not sure you comprehend the nature of the people you are planning to deal with. If, if, you are somewhat able to acquire an audience with the king, do you know what will happen when you claim to be the long lost heir?” he made a dismissive gesture “Take this madman away” he imitated Calance voice, before continuing in his own. “ Best case scenario? You shut up and they throw you out. Worse case scenario? You say something stupid that adds legitimacy to your claim and they take you to the dungeon and start the interrogation. Then you tell them everything you know. Because they will break you. They will break your fingers, they will peel your skin off, they will turn the very blood in your veins into liquified pain. This silly book you've been writing? You will tell them were all the copies are hidden just to make the pain stop for a minute. You will tell them where your family resides, who your allies are, hell, you will even describe this very conversation we're having, how I look, how I talk, how often I f*ck, whatever they want. And then, once your mind is broken, your spirit crushed and your body lays in shambles, they will kill you. And then they will knock on my door.”

He composed himself and took a step back. He wasn’t even aware he was slowly leaning towards Nathaniel as he spoke. “Then again, as I said it's highly improbable you will even get an audience. Do you really believe you would be the first heir to pop in Aulem? Every time a dynasty dies out some miracle occurs and a infant survives. Or some random bastard reveals himself. As far as everyone is concerned, myself included, you are no different. No, wait, you are different. You're from Irdina, so once you get caught Callance can say Irdina tried to perform a Coup d'état and have a perfectly plausible reason to invade. A Casus Belli.”

“As for the alternatives. Here are two. Number one: forget this ever happened. Move away, find love, have kids, get old, die happily. Judging from your rash actions I conclude you became aware of your so called destiny only recently, didn't you?” he took a quick glance around the room and no one was quick enough to protest. “Then let me tell you this: your blood doesn't mean anything. You were content living here, and now someone tells you you have blue blood and you suddenly want to play hero? You have no obligations to help the people of Aulem, and if anyone else tells you different it's because it's convenient for them. Don't argue with me about this one, I don't care what face do you wish to keep in front of your family, just think about it.”

He took a deep breath. This was exhausting, both mentally and physically. “As for number two: Your heritage means little to the common folk. If you seriously think about becoming a King you will have to prove your virtues. A recognized hero revealing himself to be the rightful heir gives a completely different message than what you planned to do. And I have a theory, something that could give you international recognition. But I'm getting ahead of myself, I'll tell you more when I have the details worked out.”

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

Nathaniel just watches the tiefling. What did this fool know about pain? When his big spiel about torture finishes, Nathaniel stops forward. "You're a greater fool than I thought if you think physical pain means anything to me. Broken limbs, torn flesh, constant suffering? None of that matters compared to waking up every day knowing people have died for you. Knowing that there's someone's daughter, son, wife, husband, mother, or father whose life was ended because you ****ed up. Every day I live with that. Every single day I remember the names and faces of the people who died believing in me, hoping I can help them, and I am killed and reborn anew every time I see their relatives. Your pathetic threats amount to nothing, and you'd know that if you had ever tried to live for someone other than yourself. If I'm captured and tortured, then I'll be happy that the pain I carry with me everyday will at least have physical company, even if it pales in comparison to the innocent lives who've been lost believing in me."

Nathaniel steps forward, this time getting right in Russo's face. "Do I think I'm the first heir? No. But you know what? I do think I'm the first heir to give a damn about what's going on with the people. Otherwise, why would someone allow Callance to continue to do what he's done? If he invades, then so be it. I at least tried to stop him. I at least tried to help those too weak to help themselves. I tried to make the world a better place, and that's far more than you can ever claim."

Finally Nathaniel levels a cold glare at Russo, the kind of glare that told the tiefling he'd be happy to kill the hellspawn if it came down to it. "And if I can't get an audience, then I'll make my own. Even if I have to climb into Callance's bedchambers in the middle of the night. And you, your imaginary tortures, and anyone else who supports this oppression can burn for all I care."

Nathaniel moves to walk past Russo, and physically pushes his way past if necessary. "I have every obligation to help those people. I have to help them, because they can't help themselves. My family, my status, or any threat to my life wouldn't stop me from doing everything in my power to help them. So you can take your options and hit the road. I will not be requiring the services of a selfish coward who doesn't have the people's best interests in his heart."

[Sodar]

Russo Rovere.

” You're going to kill us all. “ he could not, nor did he wish to, stop the anger from his voice. “Once they catch you, and they will catch you, even if by some miracle you withstand torture they will just tear out what they need with magic. And then they will find your family, and everyone in this room, and kill us too for trying to help you. You don't try to do good. You just want Callance to end your misery, kill you so you don't feel guilty about those who gave their life because they tried to protect you.”

He stood aside. There was no way he could get to this fool. He merely looked at Magnus, wondering if his bodyguard is smart enough to protect his prince from himself.

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

"No, coward, I won't get you killed at all. Because you aren't coming with me. Leave, and I'll forget you've ever came here. Do not cause trouble for others in the future, and try not to get yourself killed." Nathaniel doesn't have any anger in his voice. Simply cold truth. Russo was plainly no longer welcome as far as Nathaniel was concerned.

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

Magnus puts his hand on Nathaniel's shoulder and looks him dead in the eye.
"Hear him out, Nathaniel. Every man has his breaking point. Callance will find yours. If hurting you isn't enough, he'll hurt the ones you love. In front of you. And the information you give up in your attempts to curb him, to save them...He'll just use it to hurt others. I've seen better men than Callance do worse than what the fiend-fellow here just explained to you, what is there to keep that bastard from doing any worse?"

[Fibinachi]

Ink

The would be King.
Idealistic, headstrong, a little bullheaded, guilt wracked and terribly quick to anger. Volatile. As he sighs, he looks tired - almost worn thin.
Opponent.
Quick witted, verbose, vividly imaginative viz a viz torture implements, clearly a man of books. And there's the tail. Volatile. As he takes a deep breath, he looks tired - almost exhausted.
Ah, and the spell casting trickster.
Volatile. Bitter. But not tired, so far.

But he was leaving, and so this was definitively not going as it should.
Ink sinks, feeling the usual prickling sensation in her palms. Something is going wrong here, slipping out of joint with how things should be. Still. Think of this as a game between forces. In stories, people don't die and they certainly don't mind getting shouted at. And besides, with the eclectic mix of people in the room, shouting really is not the worst that could happen. The only thing holding back a snapping thread would be the calm voice of the bodyguard.

"Sir Knight has a point. If something called us here tonight, as something did, then throwing that work away because of disagreement over methods for the same goal is a mistake.
And I don't think anyone is leaving.
Sorry.
It's just, well, it's a long way to the court. There's a warrior, an adviser, a schemer, a shepherd and me. Handpicked by some arcane machination. It could work out easier, yet, here we are. An adviser to tell you who and what Callance is, a schemer to think up a plot to flip the crown on its head, a warrior to keep you safe and the shepherd for the common touch and to keep you grounded. Oh, and me.
We even can avoid the torture and the deaths.
"

She starts out slow because grandiose speeches aren't working, and everyone else seem to have used up all the air in the room. Their presence is seeping into the cracks like so much water through a hole. It'll be all right. See? I promised.
But these are bruised personalities in a small room. And maybe they were all single children, with no older brothers or sisters to argue with. Dog headed brutes, honest and earnest and true in opinion and righteousness. As single-minded as spiders and their fly hunting. Spiders and their flies. Wait. Spinning traps. A frantic look toward the towering body guard. the man with the grin like an icicle. He seems calm and capable, and so long as someone reminds the princeling not to flee into the night there's still hope.

The thing about discussions over PhP is that they're so neat and orderly. Assuming anyone is hot tempered enough to do so, you're welcome to interrupt Ink at any time when she speaks. There's no reason to assume that you're mesmerized for the duration of her talking, in any instance. I mean, 17 charisma, sure, but still. Free will.

[RCgothic]

Lilian

Wow, I came in looking for shelter, but it looks like I've found an adventure! There's no way I'm missing this!

To begin with I was confused. I didn't know what everyone was talking about - then I thought I was caught up in some sort of joke, but now I realise everyone is completely serious. All this talk of kings and usurpers and heirs... I zone out slightly, request for shelter forgotten, processing this information as best I can whilst the others argue.

This doesn't seem to be going well - Nathaniel (the heir) seems only to have newly discovered his ancestry, and doesn't look too happy about it. He doesn't want to risk the lives of others, which is commendable, but I agree with Rousseau. My experience with nobility may be limited to my former masters, but if Callance is anything like Percy, Nathaniel's just going to get himself killed by confronting him, especially without backup.

Not that I don't want Callance overthrown - I've absorbed all the standard grievances of a citizen of Irdina - harsh taxes; a cure for the shackles they insist on selling at a price few can afford. his overthrow is a quest I want to succeed. Ink has the right idea - people need to calm down and listen to each other. A dark and stormy night isn't conducive to that.

I slip a hand into my spell pouch under my robe and grasp a tiny bit of fleece. With my other I weave a pattern in the air too quick to follow before whispering "Silent Image!" and stepping forward.

The scene changes - instead of the poky little smithy room, dimly lit, we all find ourselves standing in a sunny meadow under a mighty beech tree. The walls, doors and windows all vanish, replaced with a beautiful vista of pasture and farmland and smooth, rolling dales. Butterflies flit lazily around, careful not to land on anyone. The muted sound of the rain outside is still apparent, but there's not anything I can do about that.

"Sorry. I thought everyone might benefit from a calmer atmosphere." My face scrunches slightly as I concentrate on maintaining the effect whilst ordering my thoughts for my next address - I face Nathaniel, and speak to him directly.

"Nathaniel, any good-hearted being can see that your heart is in the right place. You care for the wellbeing of others and would not have them suffer on your behalf - yet at the same time there are people here in Irdina - many thousands - who suffer under King Callance's ordnances. It is a difficult position to be in. You aren't the only person who cares about their fate, you needn't take this task on alone!

Those who would join you do so willingly and knowing the risks! It won't be easy to overthrow a king, and certainly be dangerous to those involved. That isn't your responsibility, that's our choice to make. Were you to turn us away, I dare say many here would try anyway.

However, I agree with Rousseau's assessment. Right now you are not Nathaniel I, rightful heir to the throne. He would see you as Nathaniel, upstart farmer of Meloom and have you executed on the spot and rubbish any claims you may have left behind with certainty of success. I hope you understand I say this not out of concern for my own life, but for the success of your goals.

You'll need to first build a reputation for yourself - a hero of the people who cannot just be disposed of. Only then will your words and deeds carry any weight. As Ink says, for that you'll need our help.

I realised Nathaniel and I were using the same text colour, and in recognition of his royal blood I cede. I'll use Green instead.

You can feel free to disbelieve the illusion - in fact it's fairly obvious I haven't teleported anyone anywhere, but it still replaces what you can see even though you know it to be false. All the illusions are insubstantial - be careful not to walk into a wall. The illusion area doesn't quite reach as far as the walls - about 1ft off - to give anyone leaving the area of effect a slight warning beforehand.

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

Nathaniel stops and glares at Magnus as well. "I've got too many people to live for to let something as petty as pain--mine or my loved ones--break me. And more than that, I don't care what he has to say. He's not someone I can trust to do what's right, and thus he is not someone I will have at my back. After all, why wouldn't this coward of a man, who is only interested in saving his hide, betray us? Clearly he has a vested interest in avoiding hardship, and has no thought for the suffering of his fellow man. So what's his price, Magnus? A hundred gold? A thousand? Ten? Maybe it's as small as the promise that he won't get hurt when they come to slit our throats in the night. No, I won't have a ticking time bomb waiting to stab me in the back. He can crawl back to the hole he came from, or he can stay here and become a farmer for all I care."

When Ink starts talking, Nathaniel simply waits. He wasn't so lost in his anger that he forgot his manners toward proper and welcome guests, and the girl seemed to have something she felt was important to say. So he refrained from interrupting, and only spoke once she was done speaking. "Alright, if you feel casting him out because of a difference in method is unacceptable: How about an inability to trust him? What about the risk involved in having someone so self-centered along on a mission concerning the fate of two kingdoms? What about the possibility that he's a plant intended to test my resolve to this course of action? The risk that he'll betray us? All of those apply just as well, except that I care more about our differences in method than I do about any of those other things. He's demonstrated that he's not interested in anyone but himself. Commendable that he sticks to his choices in life, but not someone I will have watching my back."

The young man sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose when the shepherd transforms the room into a field with butterflies. He mentally files away the fact that she's a spellcaster as well, but once she starts speaking he calmly waits for her to finish. Much could be said regarding his bullheaded nature, but he is nothing if not polite to welcome guests. "Even if you join willingly, it is still my responsibility if I accept you. I don't like it, but I've come to terms with that fact. It just means I'll just have to keep an eye out for the safety of those in my employ. And I agree, I am not a king. I have no interest in being one. I'd much rather let someone else with a better sense of judgment do it. But Callance isn't the kind of man who can rule, and I intend to remove him from power. That doesn't mean I intend to set myself up in his place, and it would do you well to not forget that."

With that said, Nathaniel turns to Russo. "I don't trust you. I tried, but you've shown me your true nature and it's not a nature I am comfortable having at my back. That means you won't be privy to the same kind of information as the others, and you'll be watched a lot more closely. If you're fine with that, then you can come with us. Otherwise, good luck and godspeed."

[RCgothic]

Lilian

My brow creases in thought - the effort of maintaining the spell and contemplating high concepts and ideas I've never had cause to think about before is taxing -and exhilarating! It feels good to be pushed.

"I don't think good judgement is strictly necessary - just the ability to recognise good judgement in others... If not you, who else? A monarch with no connection to the old line would be challenged as surely as Callance. Perhaps a council of experts could be formed, each responsible for making decisions in their area of expertise, with a rotating chaitperso-"

Feel free to point out how I'm getting ahead of myself.

[Sodar]

Russo Rovere

“Listen to yourself. You claim you hurt over all the lives given for you, but when someone says he won't die for your fool's errand you call him a coward. You f*cking hypocrite.“
Disdain clear in his voice, he paid no attention to the change of scenery, but still had enough self control to wait for everyone to finish talking.
“I had a good life. Sometimes it resolved around law disputes, sometimes people who lost everything on unfair deals came to me, so I could help them get their life savings back. I could afford taking a weekend off to visit the monastery, spend the night with a glass of wine and a good book, see the carnival every year. I got a letter from my mother every month, I could read how my little sister is doing at school, how she loves “Tales of the Lighting Wizard” I sent her for her birthday. She'd ask me when will I visit and will I bring with me this young lady I keep writing about, and I'd have to respond awkwardly it's not like that, and that she's just a friend.” he smiled slightly but his frown quickly returned.
“And then I saw you and I thought “Damn, I could change the world for the better with this guy”. It wouldn't be easy, it could cost me my life, but if we plan things carefully it could work. His dedication would need to be pure, his mind sharp, his will strong and his actions wise, but with proper counsel it was possible. So I decided I would risk anything to make it happen. And you spit in my face. You self-righteous. Judgmental. Idiot! I tore a man's soul out of hell so he could reunite with his wife! I've degraded myself in more ways than you could imagine just to get the rapist of a 10 year old delivered to justice! I've done more for the people of Aulem than you ever did! And you dare to question my integrity! You know nothing of me, or the world Nathaniel Blackgate!”
He was practically shouting at the end. His tail was raised, still, like it was poised to strike. He felt his fingernails pierce the flesh of his closed fist. He took his cloak and donned it hastily, picking his haversack afterward.
“Your sense of moral superiority will doom you and all you love. Good Luck.”
With those last words, unless stopped, he exits the building.

[RCgothic]

Lilian

No, this isn't right.
"Rousseau, stop! Nathaniel, I think there's been a misunderstanding. Words have been said - angry words - but I don't think you're as far apart as you think. If you'd just calm down and discuss your positions - without shouting or accusations - I'm sure we can make this work!"

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The man just watches Russo leave. He has nothing to say, and doesn't care to follow him. "There's no misunderstanding here. He's just posturing, and we're better off without men unwilling to lay down everything to succeed."

[RCgothic]

Lilian
"What I heard was that he was unwilling to lay down his life pointlessly, and I'd agree! You need a better plan than the one you have. Please, Nathan, listen!"

The illusion ends - I don't manage to concentrate on it sufficiently with the conflict in the room.

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

"What I heard was a fool with no thought for what might be necessary. I have no intention of dying needlessly, but I understand and accept the possibility that I will die. That man did not, and I will not miss him if that's the case."

[delta639]

Halkad

The telepath has considered it wiser to stand back and wait for the others to calm things down, for the moment...he's said his part for now, and can back it up with a further argument once Nathaniel has been talked down. Thank you.

So he watches, and listens, somewhat surprised at the proceedings. That's a different reaction than I would have expected out of Ink- a rather odd one, as well, but at least constructive. Perhaps I should reevaluate her to some degree...although I'd still prefer a look into her mind.

And the shepherd girl is more than she appears, then. Good, she'll be more useful that way: although I hope she's capable of spells more potent than this minor illusion. Even so, she's not a bad mediator, though she doesn't seem trained in that regard.

As for the tiefling...oh dear. We're going to have quite a conflict of interest here, I see. He is right that Nathaniel is foolish and overconfident, but the both of these men are too stubborn and prideful to listen to one another. I'll need to do something about that...it won't do to leave him unaccounted for. Far too risky.

Finally, Halkad clears his throat and steps forward again, as Russo walks out the door. He sends a brief message via mindlink to Lilian before he speaks: Thank you for your help. I'll deal with Mr. Russo, one way or another.

"If I may, Nathaniel. There have been many things said here tonight, from all parties. You've made it clear that, though you have little interest in claiming the throne yourself, you do wish to remove Callance from the throne for the benefit of all those other people affected. That will do for now: there will be time later to talk on matters of judgement, and I find that our goals align quite neatly on that point. However, you will need allies to unseat the king, and you cannot depend on them all sharing your ideals. The dichotomy that someone must be willing to risk everything or be against you is, I believe, a false one. I'd advise you to keep that in mind, if you are committed to helping your people.

Regardless...it seems apparent that you will not be willing to work with Mr. Russo. With your leave, I will be keeping an eye on him-"

With a brief mental command, the psicrystal skitters off of Halkad's shoulder and dashes out the door after the tiefling.

"You may not like the violation of even his privacy, but I would like to verify your positing on him potentially being a plant or a betrayer. It would be safer for you and your relatives, I believe.

As for the means of unseating Callance: your counterpoint to my proposal of allying with his enemies is...reasonable. However, there are numerous potential benefits to seeking out political allies who would disapprove of Callance's rule, and doing so would not need to cause a civil war. Marching to his palace with an army comprised of a dozen nobles' forces would cause much conflict, yes, but we have many subtler methods available. Secretly letting others legitimize you, then letting their men assassinate him, for just one example...I've been part of this game for much of my life, and could devise many other methods for your perusal. Methods which would be more effective, yes, than approaching the king directly and hoping that you can change him with your words.

And I can say quite confidently that Callance will not turn away from his current path of oppressing Irdinia. There have been many citizens like yourself who I have witnessed coming to the king in past years, with pleas or proposals to better their country's situation. The most fortunate among them were turned away without consequence. Those less fortunate were taken away or killed. And you would be in the latter category, I assure you: I'm sorry, but you do not in fact possess the means to make Callance listen, at least not by yourself. Being a threat to his reign would only encourage him to shut you down swiftly and brutally. And he has many, many resources available for doing so. Warriors more seasoned than your Mr. Edgewater, spellcasters far more powerful than miss Lillian...This proposed book of yours is a step in the right direction, I admit, but Callance is very adept at suppressing information which threatens him. I would know, I helped him hide a great deal of it in the past. If torture does not work, he will use magic to extract the information from your mind: and even you cannot hold out against that forever, I believe.

If you have no intentions of dying needlessly...I urge you to accept our help, and my advice, in aiding your kingdom and people."


Russo:

A light, soft voice resounds in your mind: clearly not human, and bearing more resemblance to the tinkling of bells, but still comprehensible.

Message start: I'm sorry to observe that Mr. Nathaniel was unwilling to listen to you. I found your points quite apt, even if I personally disagree with some of your stated motivations...but that is neither here nor there. If you wish to help people, and change the world for the better as you stated, then I request that you remain in contact with me and aid in deposing Callance. I can keep Nathaniel unaware of any communication until he proves less stubborn and judgemental. And I can relay the events that occur to you, hear your responses, and plan with you outside Nathaniel's knowledge...if you would so desire.

Just speak your response to the psicrystal- that's me, I'm behind you! - and it will relay your words back to myself, Halkad. If you wish to accept, you need only keep the crystal with you and remain within one mile of myself. End message.

If you turn around, you can see a purple and gold crystal splashing through the puddles in the road behind you.

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The young man waits for Halkad to finish his statement before responding. "I do not like spying on others, whether you feel they are a threat or not. Your rock is already following him, but in the future I would rather we not become like Callance, if what you have told me is true of him. After all, how many of his methods can you adopt before you become no different?" Nathaniel lets that line of discussion drop in favor of what Halkad brought up next.

"As far as whether we have to lay everything on the line or not... It's plainly obvious that we already have. Those incapable of seeing that, incapable of realizing that opposing a tyrant like Callance won't result in their deaths and the deaths of everything they hold dear in the result of failure... Those people are better off living in peaceful ignorance." Nathaniel looks to his grandmother and uncle. He'd already sacrificed any prospect of coming back to this town in order to live in peace, so he already lost everything there was to lose. He had literally nothing left for Callance to target. "If you aren't willing to give up everything, then you shouldn't be involved in this. No matter your good intentions or idealistic notions. If we fail, then everything we care for will be destroyed."

Nathaniel carries on concerning Halkad's idea about political allies. "I do not wish to stoop to assassination. The fear of cold-blooded murder is the weapon of tyrants and dictators, and not one I wish for us to be using. In your own words, Callance uses it to control his court via terror. If we do the same, then we're not any different than the man we claim to oppose. As far as his political enemies: Legitimizing myself through the might of those who are already Callance's enemies is a viable tactic. But Callance's enemies are not necessarily traitors, just as traitors to the kingdom are not necessarily our allies. I have no qualms with approaching them, in private, about their covert assistance, but only if they oppose Callance for good reason. The power-hungry, tyrants, and oppressors should not be our allies."

Nathaniel looks to his bow when Halkad claims that Callance will not turn away. "If what you say is true, then perhaps it would be better if I were to simply kill him and not make myself known. Is it worth murdering a single soul in order to save a country? I do not believe so, but if Callance truly cannot be convinced otherwise then maybe his son is more receptive to the plights of the people. I doubt this greatly, but if it is a better course of action for both countries then taking it may be our only option."

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

The sudden appearance and disappearance of a field puts Magnus on edge. All this pointless arguing and bickering over who's more of a coward, who's more willing to die, spells being thrown around, the little devil man who speaks his mind as bluntly as a mace. The boy who should be king thinking he can just toss a few ideas around and everything will be all right. These people have experienced Callance's evils first hand, something Magnus is glad he avoided during his adventures, and yet they seem unable to agree on who's the best for having had it the worst.

Magnus is ready his foot down. An over two hundred pound man in full plate armour slamming his foot on the ground probably wouldn't do the floor much good, but it seems that might need to happen.

"Don't assume the fiend-fellow will betray you, Nathaniel. He came at the same time these people did, claiming he was called here by a spell. I was called here by a spell, so perhaps a tiny affordance of trust is not out of the question? I doubt they are here on coincidence, or that Callance yet knows of you. If he did, you'd probably be dead by now. I can only hold off so many warriors, and he has countless at his disposal."

[Cardea]

Rosseau


Rain hits your head as you exit the building. It seems to have increased, though with the argument, you'd have hardly noticed it, with the image hiding away the dark night. Looking left and right, the streets are clear, except near the fountain. There, you see two hunched figures, and larger one, almost bear-like. It looks as if the two are supporting the larger one, though you can hear heavy wheezing from the larger one. A small lantern is held by an older woman, and she looks up to you with concern. She starts shouting, though most of it is muffled by the rain. By the light, you can tell that the other small figure supporting the man is equally as old. "Young man, can you help us move him? He's not yet strong enough to walk on his own!"

Inside


The same walking stick slams into the floor, and though the image is of grass, the sound of wood hitting wood is the same. The old woman that was talking with Nathaniel's Uncle is now glaring at her grandson, her face contorted with emotion, her breathing heavy. "You saw that man's face? You saw that man talk? He didn't know anything about what they do in Callance's dungeons, he was trying to shock some sense into you! Tina said that the spell pulls people who can help you. You know how much a stickler she is for her work, and you saw her hands before she left, didn't you? She tampered with fate for this, and she pulled people from around the country for this. That man isn't a spy at all, and if you looked past his damnable behavior, you'd see he's desperate. As desperate as this country can get."

"You know why a grindstone is useful, nephew? Its heavy and rough, but it helps make a light sword sharp. That man... I agree, he's volatile and rough. But he knows tragedy. You can tell. He looks like he ain't slept in years. His knowledge, or at least, his paranoia? He can keep you sharp. You say you want to go without killing, and he says you have to prove yourself. You need weight to your words, you need more than just your presence. Otherwise, that man's right: Callance would kill you without a thought."

[Sodar]

Russo Rovere.

Halkads psi crystal cough up with him while he was standing in the middle of the road, trying to find the nearest inn. He had been out of the team for 10 seconds and this guy was already scheming behind Nathaniels back. And he is the less trustworthy one.
His anger still burned brightly, and he could feel his blood literally boil in his veins. But this rain was... soothing. Cold never really bothered him, so he always found nights like these enjoyable. Taking a few deep breaths he calmed himself – Nathaniel was neither the first judgemental fool he ever met, nor will he be the last one.
He checked his fingernails - they grew into claws, as they always do. With a sigh he took out his trimmer and started to methodically cut them. He was halfway through, thinking of the answer he would relay to Halkad, when someone called him. Covering his right hand in embarrassment he took a quick glance into the dark. ' Just some old people. '
It would be rude not to help them, so he grabbed the psicrystal and hid it inside his pocket, mumbling “We'll talk later”. He rushed to their side, managing to put on a weak smile. “Sure.”

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The young man looks at Magnus. "I afforded him trust once, and he threw it back at me with bile. If he wants anymore trust, then he'll have to earn it. More than that though: I do not think Callance is ignorant of my existence. After all, we have his great spy-keeper here, do we not?" Nathaniel looks to Halkad as he says that. "Coincidence, maybe, but an odd coincidence that his personal spy is here. While I do not like being spied on, I will afford him the same trust I afforded our shepherd friend and her... acquaintance." Nathaniel tries to gracefully say crazy hanger-on, but it comes out oddly. Even so, the girl that came with the others seemed rather odd. "Of course, that trust is just as easily rescinded if they prove to be no different than that man."

The young man looks to his grandmother. "Fate. Grandmother, when are you going to grow out of that nonsense? I love you too much to coddle you about some illusion of control. And that man is not desperate enough, it seems. As for Tina: She interfered with innocent people to do it. Not a lot of sympathy in me for that, but I won't begrudge her doing what she thought was right. After all, Tina was just a pawn was she not?" Nathaniel looks to his uncle. "His pawn."

When his uncle starts to talk, Nathaniel just raises his hand to interrupt. He had given his grandmother leave to speak, he had given the strange guests their own time to speak, but he would not brook any words from his uncle at the moment. "No. I don't wanna hear it. I don't care to hear it coming from you, and would be quite happy if you left me to my own devices. You've made yourself a big enough problem, so let me deal with it and don't interfere anymore than you already have." Nathaniel was plainly bitter about his uncle's plan seemingly ruining his peaceful life, and worse: Drawing innocents into a fight they didn't belong in. He wouldn't hear it from that man. "I've got to get to sleep. We'll discuss where to go in the morning, but we're leaving bright and early. If you want to come, then you're free to do so. If you don't, then you're free to stay."

This time, Nathaniel does leave. He heads out into the ran and aims to go back across the street and back to bed.

[Cardea]

Russo


You move forward, and the old lady motions towards the old man. He moves out of the larger man's arm, as you step in. Up close, you can see a man's face under a hood. His eyes are ragged and it looks like his hair is ten shades grayer than it should be, for someone his age. His body is heavy, and by all accounts, it looks like the man should be able to pick you or even the Bodyguard in the Smithy up. But his body shakes as he struggles to walk, even with support. Shackles. He smiles as you support him up. "Ha... have you... seen Na... Nathan?... I wa... want to... s... s... see him... off... be... before he..." is all he gets out, before the old lady interrupts him. "Save your energy, Matthew, you know your god's blessing won't last long."

Nathaniel


Stepping outside, the rain seems to have picked up. It pelts your head, and the streets are dark, except for one spot. Near the well to your right, as you exit out of your Uncle's Smithy, you see your Aunt Tina and Russo supporting up a large frame, with your Uncle Kallin nearby. There' some muttering, and its muffled by the rain, and it takes you a moment to recognize the middle person. You haven' seen him out of his bed in years, not since you were so little, and while he may have had some parts of him whither away without you noticing, you recognize your Dad, walking with the support of your Aunt Tina and Russo.

Smithy


As Nathaniel leaves, his Grandmother makes a face. The Uncle, Quentin, you've learned by now, or at least have guessed, holds onto her shoulder, patting her. He turns to the rest of you. "I'm sorry. We... we're putting a lot on Nathaniel's shoulders, we know that, and we'd go if we could, but... but we can't. And you were just pulled from Cuthbert knows where, and if we could, we'd send you back to where you were pulled, but Kallin and Tina never thought of that. They knew about this... this damned calling spell, but not about something to send you back, and...

"We're asking a lot. But the spell pulled you people from wherever you were, and it messed with something in your past or present to put you here. We... we thought it would bring an Army, or the old King's arrows or... or something. But not someone. Let alone so many. But Kallin didn't think it was best, no, he had... he used a copy that called people. And... and now we're like this.

"We're not forcing you to go with Nathaniel, but we'd rest easier knowing that he has help. Someone with him to keep him focused. It has to be someone of royal blood, but... but any one of us would go, but... we can't.

"Will you please accompany him?"

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

Magnus nods solemnly.
"It is my duty to protect him."

He grabs his helmet and shield and follows Nathaniel across the street.

[Fibinachi]

Ink

A magnificent butterfly flits its way across Ink's field of vision. On a rainy night, inside a smithy, with eight people arguing that should not happen and as she looks around at the gorgeous expanse of rolling hills and a sensation of vertigo rushes over her. She keeps studiously calm.
All right, check. Is anyone else reacting?

The princeling doesn't move, although he rubs his nose inbetween speaking the words he has already made up in his mind. The tailed one doesn't even flinch although he does walk right through a hill he storms out the room. The rustic looking gentleman and the shepherd are both calm. Well, calmer than everyone else.
Problem problem problem, things have been stressful so perhaps this is to be expected, strangers and arguments and rain, some sudden vision not exactly surprising.
Wait, no, the bodyguard. He's on the edge and scanning the room as if expecting more trickery, some attack. And Jess is seemingly eyeing a butterfly with what might be a look of suspicion. Small clues.
This is spell. A good one, even. Lower order because the tactile sensation are lacking and the sound of the rain seeps through, although the texture is good and the vision very encompassing. The tree even looks as worn and weathered as a real tree, so perhaps this is a memory dredged up and projected in full detail.

Ink reaches out for a multicolored butterfly, momentarily distracted, and watches as it attempts to flutter away from her fingers. Breaking into a Of course, if this is a figment then if someone touched it would be proven to be unreal. Good fail safe. Clever. And then, as she blinks, the illusion collapses in on itself and fades, the old smithy reasserting itself. Lilian features are set as if strained while her voice carries a note of urgency, so perhaps she was the creator. That gives two possible spellslingers in one room, a clever schemer and two warriors - including the unknown family members. And still the princeling storms out after another heated exchange, his stance unchanged. He tries to exit gracefully and flounders just before perfection. He's a polite young man, so he tries to hide his distaste beneath a veneer of glib diplomacy and he does very well. And it doesn't sting, it's just confusion and anger.
Love him if you want.
Ha ha.
No, being glib in return is wasted. Rousseau has a point well made, but being told to be a king when one wants to be a farmer must nerve fraying. Misunderstanding brittle declarations for heartfelt conviction happens. Things will be all right. The knight follows his charge with heavy footsteps and then for once there is silence.

In the disarray the three leave behind, Quentin tries to assert order. And he explains, sets things right and accidently gives away the game. It hijacked a spell they were casting and threw her here. Or it is only a figment of a strained mind with too many brothers and too little food and an ability to make rain dance and arcane machinations pulled her here by accident because stranger things have happened but that's just the last cry of a desperate thief before the gallows, so roll with the punches, pucker up Ink. And there are beautiful things even here! Inspiring, interesting things.

"Thank you for your hospitality. And... I understand. Spells are difficult, strange - maybe this was meant to be. You did very well if it was a high order calling spell with a tacked on localization and teleportation slash retrieval secondary. Beautiful."

Ink tries to force her expression into a smile. It is difficult. Too many people and too much noise to settle on an expression.

"I'll go, if he wants it. And I suppose I'll never ask so there's no chance of saying no. Sounds like an adventure?

Ink tries the smile again, easier this time, and looks around the room to finally get a good view of her apparent travelling companions now that peace has happened. Breathing is easier, the air less electric.

"Halkad? Lilian? Your advice is good. Thank you for trying. You both have a good way with words, better than mine. The princeling seems rash, so perhaps this is all just surprise speaking. I guess we have until tomorrow to think up a better plan than to rush the court...

A tumble, a flash of a blade, someone gurgling on the ground and then the bitter infighting, the power vacuum and the knowledge of being hunted, bodies in the gutters.

"... Rushing things don't... end well. I'm Ink. As I said. Scribe, alchemist, cartographer, illustrator, traveler, animal handler and... lost. Those were beautiful spells. Glamours? Both? It's impressive. I don't meet practitioners of magic often, uh, in fact almost never. And now there's three in one night.

Well... More or less three.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Actually, with no shouting. Think you can accept working together to fix the world? Sorry, the bravado helps me deal with shouting. "

This time it works, Ink feels herself actually smiling. These are clever people with mysterious skills and on a rainy night in town who knows where, beginning a mad quest, that's exactly the kind of people you want by your side.

[RCgothic]

Lilian

I purse my lips at Nathaniel's retreating back. I don't think he took in a word I said, and that makes me cross. At least one of the reasons we've all been summoned here - guidance - is clear enough. We're going to have to teach him to listen before he gets himself killed. At least the others seem inclined to agree with me.

"A pleasure to meet you all too! My name's Lilian Shepherd - yeah, I know, my village is fairly litteraly minded."

I turn to Nathaniel's uncle Quentin, and his grandmother. Michelangelo and Jess have curled up together in a warm patch, no-longer interested in the human affairs going on above their heads. "You needn't apologise! Nathaniel will need help, and had he come to Bywater to ask, I'd have jumped at the chance! As would the others here I'd guess. This way is just more expedient. It's very kind of you to offer us shelter for the night." I lean against the wall and suck on my lower lip thoughtfully. "I'll need to better equipped for this. Is there a magic store or equipment shop in this town?"

I smile at Ink - yes, I've decided I definitely like her. Halkad has been sensible as well. "I'm sorry we weren't able to talk sense into Nathan. So help me I'll conjure a pet ox for him if he's going to keep being so stubborn!"

[delta639]

Halkad

The psion frowns, and rubs his forehead briefly as he senses Ametrine being unceremoniously tucked away from the world. Not what I was hoping for...but ah well, at least the tiefling seems open to discussion. That will do for now.

So he pulls his mind away from that of the psicrystal, and focuses his attention once again on the events inside the smithy. Nathaniel's much-resented uncle speaks to those remaining: he seems genuine enough in his apology, perhaps the heir's harsh words shook something in this man's resolve. Not enough to sway Quentin from his purpose, however, as he asks Halkad and his fellow summonees to aid the stubborn farmboy on his quest- predictable. But easy to respond to, nonetheless.

Edgewater is the first to express his loyalty, unconditionally and unsurprisingly, and Halkad's gaze flickers across the man as he exits. Solid, and battle-hardened, but with the resultant experience to recognize foolishness when he sees it...yes, he should be of use to Halkad's goals.

It is possible to think of these people as more than pawns, you know. There's more to anyone than their uses, and hopefully you'll be getting to know these people well enough to realize that...
I'll learn enough about them to let me guide them towards deposing Callance, but nothing more. The realm's fate rests in the hands of my ragtag companions, here, and those are stakes too high to remain less than vigilant. I can't afford to trust them- just as I can't afford to trust you.
He feels a brief flash of pain, hurt from the other presence, but then it retreats again, as it should, and Halkad's attention turns again to those outside his mind.

The dark-haired self-professed scribe is next to speak, and she looks more visibly uncertain, now that her theatrical proclamations are finished. No, uncertainty doesn't quite cover it, and some of Halkad's earlier suspicion resurfaces as he watches Ink. He still has the feeling that some of her behavior is an act, a mask: even if it leads her to ally herself with Nathaniel, and thus Halkad, for now. She's a curious one, at least, and bears further investigation.

Next there's Lilian. She's very eager, almost cringe-inducingly so, to jump at this opportunity and join up with a would-be ursurper...and yet, despite that, she proved more keen earlier than her humble background would indicate. Really, what does it indicate when a sheltered shepherd girl has greater insights than the would-be heir? Nothing good for Nathaniel, certainly.
But perhaps that is a sign of potential in Lilian herself, and Halkad finds a small smile forming on his face- the girl's energy is oddly contagious.

Eventually he speaks again. "Mr. Quentin: for myself, at least, apologizing for your summons is wholly unwarranted- indeed, I thank you for them. I have been searching on my own for a missing heir for many months prior to today...Your nephew's deeming me Callance's 'great spy-keeper' was misleading, but accurate enough, and I'd pieced together clues of his existence when still in Callance's service. I'm not sure if I ever would have found him, save for this calling spell- but now that I have, of course I will accompany him, and provide whatever aid I can. I have no higher goal than that."

He turns to Ink, deciding he might as well indulge a few of her questions. "It's good to meet you as well, Ink. I'm glad to see we share a willingness to...work together and fix the world...which isn't a bad way of putting it, I suppose. And my disguise was a glamer, yes, albeit not one of my own design. Though I have some knowledge of the subject, I am not an arcane spellcaster in the traditional sense. Indeed, your knowledge on the subject might outstrip my own, judging by your comments..." He smirks at her, then looks to Lilian.

"But miss Lilian here would like as not outdo us both, I think. I'm curious as to her- your- magical talents, actually. Are you a wizard? Sorceress? Regardless, that was an impressive illusion of yours, and creatively used in the circumstances as well...I hope you will continue with such ingenuity in the future. However, I think you're over-assuming somewhat as to our hosts' hospitality: I don't recall them offering us shelter, though it seems at least a possibility. If not, I'm sure they can direct us to a nearby inn or similar: I have more than enough coin for three rooms. Or two, if you and Ink would rather share."

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The young boy dashes over to his father as quickly as he feet could carry him. Confusion splayed across his face as he considers why his father was up and about. He was getting weaker and weaker, so how was it that he could move around even with the help of others? Even if he could move, shouldn't he be gathering his strength and trying to hang on for another day? Nathaniel shoves his worries aside as he get closer, and tries to force his face to look normal for his father. After all, his worry would likely be picked up by his father, and would only aggravate the older man's condition. Once Nathaniel gets close enough he wordlessly takes carry his father's weight from his Aunt, and takes her place as his father's support. "What are you doing out of bed? What happened?"

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

Magnus follows Nathaniel still, and when he says Matthew on the ground he hesitates for a moment, fearing that he might catch Shackles.

"Nathaniel, does this settle have a healer? Or perhaps..."

Magnus looks around for the shepherd girl. She was some sort of spellcaster, wasn't she? And the strange, shape-changing elf-thing? Maybe they could provide a bit of help...

[Fibinachi]

Ink

"Thank you both for the offer of accommodation and compliment. It comes with the territory of dusty old books to be copied and scrolls to re-mark for the local mayor proud of his library. All of two books and a ledger with a few words spelled correctly and arcane penmanship! You pick up the odd phrase. "

Quentin and the venerable grandmother both seemed more at ease following the quick offers of loyalty towards the errant princeling. Aligned purposes worked well against anxiety, it lightened the mood. Even the otherwise distant Halkad seemed to have accepted some ephemeral idea of companionship -at least if his behavior and tone of voice was any indicator - and he wasn't even asking any difficult questions! Hah, clearly two quick lies and some mumbles about books had worked and no one would ever be the wiser. Not that they were strictly speaking lies, really. Just statements with some omissions and a few finagled little extras. There would be time later for confessions and the noble idea of full disclosure (or mostly full, as the case might be).

All in all, these were good people, for as much good meant when applied to what were probably just a few minutes of observation. A shepherd with a talent for magic and spymaster.

"Lack of lateral thinking is a bane. Lilian Shepherd, who is a shepherd. Ink, who is a scribe. Halkad, who is a master spy and original spellcaster. Well, no. I think you got off lucky there. So what does a differently enabled arcane practioner do, then? I mean, with the tiny crystal spider... thing and the wardrobe trick, all you'd really need would be a great big bushy beard and loopy staff to be the very image. Not that I mean to infer you look old. Or worn.

Although the bits about Callance was interesting. She had stumbled across enough small, worn examples of out-of-date posters railing against excessive Aulem influence, taxes, poxes and plagues and the Shackles, the sort of scribbled notice board defamation any local watch intensely disliked finding on morning patrol, to be a little curious. The odd historical treatise offered little in the way of meaningful information beyond an odd sense of contrast. Six decades of grief, an entire generation plus some of scholars, mostly all making the same well worn proclamations of mysterious circumstances, disappearance, "Callance Urive I, High Majest... the So-and-So", "came to power in time of crisis", national fervor to find responsible culprits, border patrols, forays, threat of war, a king nobly staying his hand out of romantic sensibilities and the happy thought of peace - settling for a mixture of guilt, imposition and sweeping military collusion. More profitable in the long run.
And now a contender for that very throne spurred on by circumstance and his family. And unknowable, esoteric Others. Interesting times!

Ink squatted down down while running a hand through her hair, cold and plastered to her head as it was. The dog and the cat had apparently decided to secede from the proceedings and curl up together, in the same warm and dry spot. Shepherds and spymasters, men with tails, cats and dogs living together, a downpour straight from some old, ragged romance tale(It was a dark and stormy night, and the handsome outlaw was running through the woods...) and the opening gambit of some kingmaker ploy.
It was a lot to take in.
She tilted her head around to look at Lilian, then nodded at the two drowsing animals.

"Oh, and it strikes me that maybe the smithy has some spare items for sale or at least the means to prepare for the forging of materials. Would this be true, Master Quentin? We can probably scrounge up a general store as well, if we wait till the rain settles. It... occurs to me that if the resources could be marshaled to cast a spell of this magnitude, perhaps certain someones prepared for a longer journey as well. Stashed rations, maps, overview of road stations and patrols if any, border crossings. Stuff."

[Cardea]

Outside


"P-Pelor answered... my prayers, son... he... gave me some relief from... from my bed... a... and I wanted to see you off..." Nathaniel's Dad says, a smile slowly forming on his face. "T... to see you finally d-... do what I couldn't."

Inside


"You're sharp, miss. I do, I do, but nothing like border patrol markings. We're too far from the border to have soldiers coming through with any regularity." Quentin says, moving towards the door presumably leading to a backroom. He disappears for a moment, before coming back with a small backpack, its leather design visibly reinforced with some metal to keep it supported. He opens it, producing a piece of paper, and starts reading off from it.

"Let's see... two hundred-some silver, spool of twine, bottle of magic-stickum, some rations, four waterskins, some tindertwigs that you'll find in a small box, a small map of the area, a crowbar, a collapsible hand axe... and some arrowheads, for Nathaniel. Ain't never had a real need for maps, but the next town is just a day's walk North of here, and they'll probably have something."

Back to our regularly scheduled gaming.

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

The younger man just smiles and nods. "I am glad to see you standing, but you should be more careful with this gift. Come now, lets get you inside." He doesn't remark on what was to come, and only spoke of his father's safety. After all, that was far more important than some fool errand about a king. He absolutely needed to be certain his father was safe before he left.

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

Magnus reaches to help Nathaniel carry the man after a moment's hesitation. He hasn't shown any symptoms in his years, but he's still not comfortable with touching the afflicted. I doubt anyone really is.

[Cardea]

Outside


Russo and Nathaniel carry Nathaniel's Father to the door, Magnus standing near in case the man falls, but still wary of the man for his disease. They stand in the doorway, unsure of how to get the man through the doorframe.

Inside


The doorway becomes shadowed, as a large figure stands just outside, looking in.

[Fibinachi]

Ink

"Oh, he'll like getting those. I'm certain that the twine and map both will find a good use. Thank you, Master Quentin."

Resources were scarce then. No stockpiles of heirloom weaponry or lists of contacts in faraway places, no armies ready to march. Did have a questing knight, though Halkad and Lillian could clearly nullify the need for many otherwise mundane items with their skills. With everyone else filling in synergy and serendipity would take care of the rest.

Shadows congregated near the door, cutting her thought process short. Ink shifted her weight upwards again and stepped deeper into the smithy to provide room.

"Anyone out there require aid?"

[Sodar]

He gladly allowed Magnus to take his place, as he was hardly strong enough to lift, supporting a guy this big was putting a strain on him. Still, soon after they ran into a logistic problem of getting him through the door, and as much as he would love to see Nathaniel beaten into a coma and hoped to never speak to him again he could not stop himself from responding.
”Look... Just... Bend down a bit, will you? Otherwise they will have to carry you.”
And that would be pretty damn demeaning.

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

Nathaniel takes the time to get his father through the door slowly, safely, and by himself if need be. Once he's gotten his father into the building he guides the larger man over to an empty chair.

[TechnoScrabble]

Magnus

"So...this man is your father, Nathaniel?" Magnus asks, worrying about how this affliction might affect Nathaniel later on.

[ZeroNumerous]

Nathaniel

"Yes, he is." Nathaniel doesn't have anything more to say on the matter.