[Defunct]

[RaggedAngel]

OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=15339859#post15339859)

Three roads converge on a hot summer day on an old well and an even older oak tree. The tree is massive, with branches large enough to cast enough shade for many travels to take shelter under during the hottest part of the day. The sun is high in the cloudless sky, and the road is mostly clear of any travelers. Even ignoring travelers, there aren’t too many people in the area; this is the Elsir Vale, the very eastern edge of Breland, right next to the Seawall Mountains and the many dangers that they contain. Even still, the land is very rich and fertile, and the Elsir Vale is some of Breland’s most productive farmland. There are a number of tiny towns and hamlets strung out along the main road of the Vale, which occasionally divides and comes back together again as old, small, unpaved roads are wont to do.

A few travelers had already found a place in the shade under the tree, and new folk arrived at the same leisurely pace that others left. The road was dusty and dry, and the old well had plenty of cool water to match the tree’s shade; a perfect place to eat lunch and rest tired legs before continuing on to Kennrun, the last town in Breland before the Seawalls.

I was originally going to railroad this a little more, but I’d like to see how people arrive and greet everyone else. Who you arrive with, and when, is entirely up to you.

[Fable Wright]

He sat, and he waited.

Rem Dremidydd was bored. He had been waiting in the hollow of his tree for three days and three nights by now, and he was beginning to get fidgety. He saw pretty much everything that was going on throughout that time; he saw every trader bringing their wagon down the road, dragged by tired and bored oxen, the people visiting their relatives, joy shining through their eyes when they realized that they were so close to their journey's end, and the rest of the motley, ranging from information brokers to bards looking for a better gig than they had at home, from happy couples looking for the best place to live their life together to weary old men who just wanted to enjoy the lovely weather. They were all well-rounded, dynamic individuals who occasionally played against type and went around making the mundane the most exciting thing in their life. So Rem was bored.

He had known, of course, that they were just happy villagers. He originally settled down here in his tree to look at their lives, to see if he could catch any glimpse of the life he had before the Day of Mourning, the life that he had lost. If the scene before him was any indication, he had really enjoyed his life and the people in his village, if his mind went to all this trouble to glorify the mundane. Of course, one can only try to obtain nostalgia for so long. After a while, Rem realized where he was: The last rest stop before the last town before the sea. He was just outside a peaceful village in Breland just by both Zilargo and the Mournlands, with whispers of an oncoming storm gusting around like dust in the wind, brushed off by everyone it falls on. The storm was brewing on the horizon, and, undoubtedly, someone was coming to do something about it. If Rem wanted to find out what was coming, and find out what it meant, then all he had to do was wait.

And so Rem laid back in the trunk of his immense oak, restless. Despite the massive foliage and the huge trunk, nearly 10ft across, no one was leaning against it or even moving around it, and though many people sat a ways away in the shade from the broad canopy, no one stayed near the base of the tree, sitting or leaning against it or anywhere near it. It wasn't there. The leaves did not rustle and did not fall, and blew in different ways than the wind. The trunk, even more surprisingly, wasn't there. It looked like it; the rough and knotty bark was perhaps even more detailed than a normal tree's, but anyone touching it just passed right through the tree. Not even squirrels could move up the trunk; those that tried just fell into it in amusing ways. Most importantly, however, the tree wasn't there until three days ago. The locals just kept their distance from the 'witch's oak,' as they called it, which suited Rem nicely. Anyone who wanted to investigate the tree would almost surely be someone sent to investigate. All he had to do was wait. Sitting in the hollow trunk of his dream-tree, Rem stared out at the world with half-closed lids.

He sat, and he waited.

[Crinias]

A completely ordinary black raven, indistinguishable from any other, flew across the cloudless sky, vaguely following the road below as it observed all that its eyes could. Though every few minutes it would turn and fly in a different direction, it would always return to the road it had been originally following.

If anyone noticed this they probably thought nothing of it. It's not like it was scouting ahead of its master, making sure there were no bandits or highwaymen in his general vicinity, certainly not. What kind of wizard nowadays even uses familiars anymore, let alone ravens? And neither druids nor rangers use ravens as animals companions. Most likely it was simply an odd raven and nothing more.

It was around midday that the raven reached the well, and the tree. It watched as travelers ate whatever food they had and as they drank deep from the well. It watched as people avoided the tree, and the man inside. It waited for a few minutes, then slowly and with care, it approached the tree.
------------
Isaac walked down the road with a certain satisfaction, the kind that one has when one is about to reach the end of a monotonous journey after days of walking (or riding, depending on his mood). The sweltering heat of the day was annoying, but it only meant that reaching the well would be all the more satisfying.

He walked with purpose. A week or two earlier, while staying at Sterngate while traveling, he had received word from the Lanterns. With a growing threat in the east and little information to go on, it was only natural that an agent should be sent to learn more, and if necessary, put down any enemies of Breland. House Lyrandar would send a representative of their own to assess the situation, in case it was bad enough that it would disrupt trading arrangements. His contact, a hobgoblin named Wrex, was to meet him in Kennrun with more information.

All in all it seemed like it would be a mystery-filled, exciting, interesting assignment. Still, he reflected, he had thought the same of his Karrnath assignment before meeting Kasha. Isaac involuntarily shivered as he suppressed those memories. There was no reason to assume this new mission would also end up a bloodbath, though. Best stay positive.

So Isaac walked on, closer and closer to the well. What exactly is this new threat to Breland, and how powerful is it? Who are its leaders? What is their origin? All these questions and others ran through his mind.

Somewhere out there, somebody knew. If Isaac wanted to know what the answers were, all he had to do was go and look for them.

[King Tius]

Those gathered around the tree hear Wrex's approach before they see him. At first all they hear are snippets of a deep and sonorous voice belting out some kind of marching song whenever the breeze stops rustling the leaves. As he draws closer the melody grows stronger and actual words can be picked out, though they are of an ancient goblin dialect and are unrecognizable to all but a few inhabitants of Darguun. The syllables are harsh and forceful compared to Common or the fluid notes of Elven. They sounds firm like Dwarven but without the overly repetitive sounds (baz this and dur that). Still, there is a power in them, a sense of pride and adventure that crawls into your ears and swells your heart, even if the words are lost upon you.

When the man singing finally comes into view, he is a strange sight to behold. His helmet bears a rearing hydra crafted in exquisite detail and his armor glints in the sunlight in a great many colors, its bronze and copper accents showing a sense of fashion and intricacy that has been lost on all but the most eccentric of armorers. His pointed pauldrons swing back and forth as he strides along the rode, walking every step of the way as if he marching in some kind of parade.

Nearing the tree, the sight of so many people enjoying the shade might cause a normal man to stop his singing, or at the very least lower his voice. Wrex is completely unphased by his new-found audience. He continues to sing as he finds an unoccupied spot to drop his pack and remove his helm, revealing his features more clearly for passers by. Wrex is a hobgoblin, bald of head and rich of tattoos. Earrings with brilliant gemstones flank a pair of eyes that beam brighter than the midday sun. His great smile, the natural lay of his face while singing, reveals a set of sharp incisors, a gift of his heritage.

Never skipping a note, he begins to strip his armor away, piling it neatly on top of his backpack along with the quiver of javelins and the falchion on his back. When he is standing in naught but his breaches he reaches into his pack to draw out a beautiful sash of deep purple which he ties around his waist. Stepping back out into the sun, he brings along his spiked chain and begins to twirl it about. The song upon his lips changes to one that seems angrier, like a battle ballad. With fluid motions and an expression of absolute concentration he sets about practicing his forms, taking this rest as an opportunity to move through the teachings of the Sublime Way.

[hoverfrog]

Wilhemina d'Lyrandar

Mina chattered away to her companions as she skipped along the dusty road. The wind around her seemed to be blowing the dirt away from her where it had coated every other traveller in a fine layer of grit. Overhead a squat, froglike shape flapped leathery wings and darted back and forth, spying out the land around. At her shoulder sat a miniature and very ugly dwarf, apparently constructed of a black clay. It was holding a large file in one meaty paw and was rasping along a short metal spike in the other. Padding beside the woman was a metallic hound, eyes glowing with an orange flame and wicked spikes along its back. Each claw and fang was a curved blade ready to rend anyone who threatened its mistress.

Her breezy babbling stopped all of a sudden and the stunted Wright hopped down from her shoulder. It jumped up and down making crude grunts and waving the spike above its head. "You silly thing, Fix. I know you've finished but there's a tree over there with shade and well with fresh water where we can rest." The construct continued to yap at her until she took the spike away, lifted it by the neck and dropped it into her hip bag. "Down Pig, she commanded and the iron dog dropped to the ground. She reached into her bag again and pulled out a wrench and then a hammer and started to secure the spike in place. "All done, Pig, good dog." she announced when finished and dropped the tools back into her bag. It rose and stretched, mimicking the nature of a living beast. It even wagged its stub of a tail.

"Scroll Bearer, " she called to the flying homunculus, "have you seen anything interesting?" A pause where the bat winged servant seemed to do nothing but stay aloft, "Oh, how exciting, a display by a genuine Dhakaan chain master. Come on, we have to have a closer look." She almost floated across the sparse grass before settling on a good place to watch.

Seeing a few others lingering near the display she offered polite greetings, "Hello, I'm Wilhelmina Lovain. Everyone calls me Mina. Are you a resident? Does House Ghallanda have an establishment here? I feel like I've walked all the way from Sharn." Despite her comments she looks fresh and cooled. You notice a light, cooling breeze around her, faintly scented with roses.

[Saskia]

Never? Roger asks one of his compatriots sitting before him, a young woman in fine silks. He animatedly, but good naturedly, continues Not even for the magnificent troves of arcane lore? Sure, I wouldn't want to raise my children there, but Xen'drik houses the greatest caches of historical and engineering, even arcane secrets that could be discovered! Maybe, Roger stops abruptly and stares curiously for a moment at the hobgoblin who so loudly interrupted him. That must be him. He had expected a more subdued creature, but this certainly was no problem. He prefers interesting companions anyway. With his excitement under control he continues Maybe even what led to the giants' regression. If we could learn what ended a mighty empire like theirs and turned them into the savage beasts they are today, it may well help us from following the trail they blazed. I would hardly categorize that as "a vulgar danger fetish".

This time it was not the goblin's voice that interrupted him, but a voice most unexpected. Mina? Here? He was well and truly past the whole unpleasantness, but that never seemed to matter with some women. Well, in truth it was a failing of mortals, not just women, but he still wanted his favorite cousin in his life. Still, what was she doing here of all places? I'm so sorry, but if you'll excuse my abruptness I believe party has arrived. It's been lovely meeting you both, and the next time I find myself in New Cyre I'll be sure to drop a silver for your brother.

He stands and strides with his confident steps to the source of the familiar voice. Mina, you darling creature! he calls loudly with his arms outstretched. He pulls her in hugs her tightly, kissing her on each cheek, and quickly releases her; a gesture which he hoped could be construed as affectionate, but neither awkward nor romantic. He was overjoyed to see her, but that was hardly a road he wished to tread once more. What brings you to this backwater county? Have our mutual friends sent you here on some errand? He knew the answer; she wouldn't be here unless it was important to Lyrandar, and if it was important to Lyrandar it was important to trade all over Khorvaire. Apparently it wasn't as simple as a tribe of goblins turned too aggressive as he expected.

This could be interesting.

[Fable Wright]

As Isaac walks the path, Rem's interest perks up a bit.

Longcoat, some elegance, a scarf in this weather, and focused on something other than just arriving. Possibly just another traveler, possibly something more. Someone to watch; he might be here from the Houses and/or investigating. Someone to keep tabs on.

Somewhere up in the boughs of the tree, a figment of a squirrel stares intently at Isaac, never blinking, flinching, or even nibbling at the imaginary nut in its hands. Inside the tree, Rem did much the same thing, but with a bag of nuts rather than just one chestnut. As Wrex comes blundering down the path, Rem winces. He seemed relatively normal around these parts, just another proud youth wanting to show off, though admittedly of a different cultural origin. The main difference between him and the other villagers there, then, was just the fact that he was loud. Also, his pronunciation was absolutely terrible, even after accounting for the contractions added to match the meter. Rem winced in annoyance. Did he really just mispronounce Draa'ma as Dremae?

And then Wilhemia enters, and Rem's doubt was blown away. A woman flaunting major wealth, looking for a contact, used to access to good living conditions, obviously upper class, almost definitely a member of the Houses. The constructs indicated Cannith, though there was something different about her that made Rem suspend his judgement. And then, when what seems like just another lovestruck villager came up to her talking about "mutual friends," Rem knew that this was exactly what he was waiting for. Members of a house who knew what was going on, typical hook in stories for people to get involved, with additional suspicious characters around. Isaac, for instance, the man who walked up to her, and probably that man sitting under the well muttering to himself in a paranoid manner about the demon squirrels. (In Rem's defense, the man really did look like an adventurer; he had to find some way of testing. Despite the terror of the man and his choice of a shovel as a weapon, Rem wasn't convinced that he wasn't one in disguise.) Remembering her comment about a rest house, Rem springs into action.

Much to the surprise of pretty much everyone at the rest stop, a sound (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MwWsQFfEqzQ) begins to waft through the glade, seeming to emanate from the Witchoak tree. Even more surprising is the fact that, after a few seconds, the Witchoak itself disappears, instantaneously being replaced with what appears to be a Hostelers Guild tavern, though notably lacking the mark of House Ghallanda on the side. It's a plain pinewood building, square, 30' to a side and 10' tall, with tall double doors wide open, revealing a similarly plain interior, with teak tables scattered around, chairs and benches around them with invitingly comfortable cushions on them, and across from the double doors sits a mahogany bar with some out of place crude clay mugs on it and a bizarre man, probably in his 20s, dressed in silver with a web of azure veins patterned across the left half of his face, sitting behind it as a barkeep.

Hello, there! He calls out to Wilhemina and Roger. I believe a tavern is the traditional place to hold this kind of meeting? He stares at them expectantly.

On the roof, the immobilized squirrel continues to unblinkingly gaze at Isaac, barely noticeable for most of the other people there.

[Crinias]

As Isaac reaches the well he doesn't make a big entrance or say much beyond a carefree "Greetings" to those he passes by. Although his feathered spy has already watched everyone here before he himself arrived, he looks around as though trying to become familiarized with everyone's faces. He sits by the well, a few feet away from a man muttering about squirrels and pulls out his mundane-looking Everlasting Rations, eating slowly while observing his surroundings. He does not acknowledge the illusory squirrel's stare, although his raven takes notice of it.

Although thoroughly intrigued by the young-looking-yet-ancient-feeling, dark, perhaps-brooding, armored illusionist-of-sorts, Isaac restrains himself and merely has his raven get slightly closer and closer to the man. Being curious is like tempting fate at times, but completely ignoring this sort of person would be a sin in his eyes. And it was doubtful that he was a spy, from his looks. Too mysterious, for one. So his raven approaches Rem cautiously.

As the hobgoblin approaches, he manages a half-smile, half-wince. Although a bit overdone, perhaps, this man's devotion to his beliefs were clear to any who saw him. To someone like him, who had to live in lies and deceit by necessity of his job, it was refreshing to see those beliefs presented in as straightforward a manner as his martial expertise. Although that purple sash might be a bit too much.

When Wilhemina arrives, he suppresses a sigh with some difficulty. Despite having the good idea of not revealing her true name, she couldn't have been less subtle about her social status and identity if she had tried. Expensive constructs, mentions of House Ghallanda and coming from Sharn... Not to mention the fact she was a khorovar. All this immediately pointed to her being the House Lyrandar representative he had been told about. This suspicion was confirmed when another khorovar approached her and started interacting with her in a friendly manner. Really, neither of them cared much for subtlety, huh? Then again, he wasn't exactly going undercover, infiltrating a city or impersonating somebody, was he? He should loosen up and approach them both before it becomes awkward to interrupt them.

As he stood up, deciding what he should say, the mysterious yet oddly appealing sound shook him from his thoughts. As he watched a new illusion replace the old, he couldn't help but smile at the man's odd method of calling attention to himself, and at how right he was as he spoke. Usually this sort of thing did begin in a tavern. Although he had not been addressed by the man, it would simply be rude to let this go by. And even though it might be more prudent to not call more attention to their inevitable talk, trying to avoid this man after what he had done would attract even more attention. Best go along with it.

To Khyber with subtlety. The raven, which had been watching the tree from close up, flies onto Rem's shoulder, as though it wished to humor him.

As Isaac walks towards the illusory tavern and passes by the pair of khorovars, he bows his head slightly and says in a low voice: "Excuse me, sirs, but I believe this man has the right of it: this sort of talk usually takes place within this sort of establishment. Don't worry, friends of your friends have sent me as well. And I think going along with this man's eccentricities might attract less attention than resisting them might. Shall we?"

Without waiting for a reply Isaac walks inside the fake tavern. He greets Rem with a small bow and smile.
"Isaac Caducine, at your service," he says loudly enough so the khorovars can hear him, "and if you don't mind me asking, who are you and what are your intentions?"

[hoverfrog]

Mina steps forward into Roger's embrace. The smell of him, sweat and dust from the road, oil and iron from his chain mail, the hint of nutmeg on his breath brought all those tender feelings rushing back. His kisses were fleeting, chaste remembrances. Fond thoughts of him echoed through her mind and then he had to open his mouth and bring up the wedge that pushed them apart. The one thing that separated them and it had to be the first thing he says to her. She wanted to slap him. Her homunculus hisses as he steps away.

Well, two could play that game, she thought, "Roger? What are you doing here? You could be playing in concert halls in Sharn or Passage but instead I find you here, a wandering minstrel on the very edge of Breland"

"Yes, family business brings me here. Some sort of problem with trade routes. The details would probably bore you." Why do they insist on digging barbs in whenever they see one another? "Forget that for now. It's good to see you. Really. Let's not fight."

Before they can reconcile or continue to bicker the nearby tree seems to fold in on itself with a haunting, pulsing sound, "What's that noise?" Mina takes a step closer to Roger, unconsciously moving to guard him. Pig crouches in front and Scroll Bearer settles on her shoulder again, a greasy venom forming on its fangs. As the tree reshapes itself into plush cushions, seats and walls she relaxed. "It's alright, it's only an illusion." Not a bad one either.

She was expecting a Zilargo native to greet them after the tavern coalesced into shape but instead it was a large armed and armoured human. She reminded herself that this could well be another illusion too, "Hello," Mina offered weakly, extending her hand, physical contact should be enough to sort phantasm from reality. "Are you Wrex? I'm afraid I've only been given your name and I was rather expecting some gruff outdoorsman dressed in furs."

[King Tius]

Wrex finishes practicing his forms and once again dons his armor. Was it an unnecessary display in front of all these people? Absolutely, but that was his goal. Kech Volaar was not a savage horde like their goblin kin. While the display was a tad showy, it displayed discipline and precision. Wrex has not to be trifled with and he preferred to let his deeds do the talking.

He forgoes putting his helmet back on, knowing it tends to unnerve the soft skins. A group of peculiar looking folk is gathering and a tavern has suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Given that most of the other travelers strewn about looked like merchants or were too scared to even look at him, Wrex figured these were the people he was supposed to meet.

Striding over, he strikes an imposing figure despite being at least six inches shorter than the rest of you.

"Gruff. There is no word for this in Goblin. We do not dance around the meanings of things. Try again, but put your weight behind your sword." He pounds a fist against his armor. "Call me a savage, a brute, a monster. See if your words can get through my armor and you will see why such...tact...is not needed. I am Wrex and I believe you are the...people...I have been waiting for." He turns to look at the illusory tavern and it is difficult to read the expression on his face. "How is the ale?"

[Jopustopin]

Jor

Jor walked along the path at as brisk of a pace as his halfling feet would take him. Things had not gone well for him in Kennrun and he had literally been lost to the world for a couple of days. A simple rendezvous in Kennrun had turned poorly when his New Cyre informant decided abruptly to try to kill him. A brief struggle had ensued and it ended with Jor being pushed off the roof of the building they had met on. He hadn't remembered hitting the ground.

He awoke in a House Jorasco enclave to find that days had past. That was the start of his troubles. The halfling healer had held onto some personal effects for collateral until he could get them their payment. His letter of credit was useless as the small fort did not have a bank. The only thing he could sell in a short period of time was his pony. He had no way of reaching Captain Meryl d'Ravalas in Starilaskur as the House Sivis station in town was closed. Inquiries with the soldiers in town indicated that the gnome had indicated an abrupt leave of absence. A storm had delayed him another day before he finally started the trek, on foot, back to Starilaskur so that he could report on Prince Oargev. He had been out of contact with the Dark Lanterns for almost a month and he would be two weeks late reporting back to Starilaskur at this rate.

And so it was, that on this hour, and this day, Jor happened to pass through the intersection right as the tavern appeared out of thin air.

Instinctively Jor's eyes passed over every individual's face in the vicinity. They stopped on the one man he recognized. Isaac Caducine. Jor blinked, his face wore a confused expression. Why was Isaac out this far away from Sharn? Jor followed Isaac's eyes to the hobgoblin and the group gathering around them. He was too far away to hear what Isaac said, though he could clearly hear the hobgoblin. Jor watched the group for a second to see if Isaac was in any trouble. The two half-elves seemed to be friendly and looked as if they too were expecting the hobgoblin. The only one who seemed out of place was the peculiar looking human who seemed to be conjuring up buildings simply for amusement. Many of the merchants and travelers standing around were not amused and many of them seemed to be hurrying on about their business.

Jor walked up to the group but said nothing. He stood next to Isaac but gave no indication that anything was unusual about the encounter. His mithral breast plate bore the symbol of Breland and with it, the meeting seemed to take on a much more official tone.

[Fable Wright]

Rem smiles as the people enter the bar. Becoming the most conspicuous event around always threshed the adventurers from the populace. Apparently it wasn't foolproof, though, as the hobgoblin civilian wound up investigating as well. Rem'd have to find a better venue next time.

As Isaac enters and confirms Rem's suspicions, he begins pouring out 4 mugfuls of wine, pushing them over the apparently-not-that-illusionary counter towards Isaac, Mina, and Roger, and the fourth one off to the side towards Isaac's raven, as though offering it a drink. When Isaac asks his question, Rem adopts an exaggeratedly confused expression and glances around. "I would have thought that the binder of Malphas would at least be able to observe what's around himself. Is he not the vestige of observing unseen? Since we're in a tavern and I'm behind a bar, I'd assume that I was a barkeep, and that my intentions were to sell you all some alcohol and listen to your troubles. And you must have quite some troubles, if they're bringing people from house Lyrandar and Sharn all the way down to my little abode." With that, Rem takes up a rag and begins wiping off the still-polished counter. "A better question is who you lot are, and why you're here. House members don't show up all to often around these parts." As Mina speaks, Rem opens his mouth to respond, but the civilian cuts him off before he has a chance. Instead, he turns his head to address the imposing goblin whose head barely reached the top of the bar. "The ale is unfortunately nonexistant, at the moment. I saw people used to higher living approaching, so I decided to prepare some wine. If you want to try it, though, feel free." He takes one of the empty mugs and turns around to fill it from one of the casks behind the bar, and puts down a mug filled with silently frothing ale. "On the house."

[Saskia]

He wanted to say that he was here for the same reason, at least in some degree. He wanted to tell her that he had been making something of himself, performing serious academic work at the Library of Korranberg as a respectable intellectual, piecing together the history of Xen'drik, actually making quite respectable use of his education and mind. He would probably omit the occasional field work as she might get the wrong idea, but omission is only a lie when you intend never to reveal the whole truth. To be sure, his work with the Library and its was more important and more stimulating than any paltry singing career, and if there was ever anybody to whom he would actually say something like that out loud, it would be Mina. Mostly though, he caught the faint scent of rose like a punch in the gut. He hadn't expected her to be so responsive to his touch, and it made him more vulnerable to his own memories. Maybe he hadn't left her behind as he thought. Maybe she hadn't, either.

It was only natural, then, that Olladra would choose precisely that most inopportune time for some strange phenomenon to interrupt them. With Mina stepping closer at the strange noise, Roger instinctively puts his hand around her waist, ready to pull her out of harm's way. Old habits die hard for both of them, it seems, and for a moment he hopes they never will.

In any case, regardless of their intentions this Isaac fellow and the flamboyant barman were not starting out on Roger's good side, but offerings of drinks were always a good way to get back on track. He knocks twice on the bar, ensuring its solidity before curiously taking a drink. Roger in truth held little regard for alcoholic drinks of most kinds, and in particular not the volatile grog preferred by dwarves and humans trying to look tough in the most banal possible way, but he was quite fond of the sweetness and fruity flavors present in most wines, particularly those made by gnomes, but regardless of what it was the gesture was amicable, and Roger was not one to refuse hospitality. He nods his approval and thanks to the barman with a smile and drops his tip of a silver coin on the counter as he turns curiously to Wrex, leaning on the bar.

Save the bravado for when it's needed, brother, he says in his deep and melodic voice as he hands a mug to Mina. You don't much look the part of a savage monster to me. The wine's nice though.

[RaggedAngel]

Roger's attempt to lean on the bar falls a bit short when he passes through the illusion without a pause. The moment he does, the entire bar and inn around you become fainter and translucent; though the cups of 'wine' retain their clarity and reality, despite the stark evidence of an illusion. If Roger attempts to tip the barkeep, the coin falls to the ground, as unsupported by the bar as anything but the mugs that Rem placed there. In the same way, anyone attempted to set a mug back on the bar will be disappointed.

As the group gathers and the illusion unfolds, every single person in the area around the well and oak decide that they have better places to be. House business and heavily armed travelers never indicate that something good is going to happen, and after a few minutes everyone but the six of you has left the area.

[Saskia]

Roger quickly stands and adjusts his pack as though nothing at all happened. Without so much as a hint of a bruised ego he grins at the bartender, saying Solid enough to knock on and to hold cups, not at all solid when you try to lean. Shadow conjurations, right? Not much capable with shadow magic myself, but I've seen some pretty great things done with them.

[King Tius]

Wrex catches the mug of wine meant for the bird and keeps it for himself. He takes a sip and nods at the taste. "It sounds like you haven't met many hobgoblins, then." The warrior smiles at his own jest but does not laugh. As the illusion falters he one by one looks at those assembled. "Enough of these games and tricks. I was told you needed a guide to crossing the Seawalls. I was born in the mountains and my clan makes their home within its heart. I am no ranger but a goblinkin leading your group may serve better than an elf and his bow."

[Crinias]

As the tavern grew more and more crowded, Isaac felt his smile grow wider. The Lyrandar representatives were anticipated. The 'barkeeper' was an interesting anomaly. The height-challenged hobgoblin turning out to be their contact would be a happy coincidence. But meeting Jor was simply too much.

It went beyond coincidence or chance. He had not been informed about another agent being assigned here. Furthermore, on the days when he didn't bind Andras to summon his horse and speed up his journey, he had made sure he hadn't been followed. It would be near impossible to coordinate their arrival to about the same time. He gave a brief nod to indicate he noted Jor's presence as he thought of what he should do, then turned to the armored barkeeper.

"You know your lore well. I am interested in knowing who you are and from who or where did you learn such incredibly obscure knowledge, but I get the impression you'd evade the answer until we spoke of our business. Well, no matter. The reason most of us are gathered here, in general terms at least, is not something that requires absolute secrecy. I don't think my boss would get angry over an explanation of our problem."

As Isaac notices everyone else leave he takes this opportunity to explain everything.

He then turns to everyone else, speaking in a loud yet clear voice to attract attention. "If I may, I'd like to clear up any misunderstandings or confusion any of you might have, seeing as this conversation has become uncomfortably chaotic. I'll reintroduce us if necessary. I'm sorry if it comes off as a bit long-winded or obvious."

After taking a deep breath, he begins. As he speaks about each of them he nods towards them to indicate who they are, for Jor's and Rem's sakes. "I'm Isaac Caducine, a simple Binder working for the Citadel. My superiors have taken notice that in this general area, Elsir Vale, a possible threat to Breland has risen, although information regarding the matter is exceedingly vague. I can however say that large groups of goblins are involved, and that they may be gearing up for war. Such actions could well cause problems for all of Khorvaire, let alone Breland, unless stopped. I was sent to investigate, and was told that I'd meet my contact, Wrex, in Kennrun. Simultaneously, House Lyrandar, concerned with what might be a problem for trade in the area, decided to send representatives of their own, Wilhemina and Roger. They as well were told about Wrex. Up until then things could have been said to be normal. However, unforeseen to us, one of my coworkers, Jor, has joined us unexpectedly, though I was not informed as to his presence until just now. Finally, this very interesting armored nameless man outrageously decided that he wanted to know more about the matter, so here we are."

Isaac then lets out a tired sigh. "Any further questions?"

Anyone who wants to, feel free to interrupt Isaac at any point.

[Saskia]

Yes, Councilor, Roger says, grinning with a joke in his voice. You neglected to mention what you had for breakfast two days ago, sir.

[RaggedAngel]

It is with that quip from Roger that the conversation is interrupted by an enormously loud collection of noises; pops, bangs, whistles, clattering hooves, and a high-pitched voice singing a jaunty tune all blend together into a true cacophony, and the source is drawing closer to you, heading down the road towards Kennrun.

The group turns, collectively; you've all been in more than enough fights and dealt with more than enough hazardous situations to know that any loud noise deserves immediate attention. Your concerns are quickly assuaged, however, when over the crest of a little hill appears a profoundly overladen cart, pulled by two old horses being driven by a squat, old little gnome.

The gnome's cart is garishly colored, and it's covered in every manner of strange implement and apparently stocked with hundreds of small vials filled with variously colored liquids; potions, presumably, and quite a few scrolls to go with them. The cart itself is a strange contraption of bronze and steel and wood, and it seems to be driving itself nearly as much as the horses pull it. The driver seems to spot the group of you, and after squinting through his monocle he pulls the horses right up next to the "inn"; he's clearly aware of the illusion.

"Tally-ho!" The gnome seems either oblivious to how well-armed you all are, or entirely uncaring. "I've got all manner of magical knicknack and whatsit that you young types tend to like and need. Headin' down to Kennrun as the last stop on my trans-Breland tour, and I've still got plenty of inventory. Name's Biggles, and it's a pleasure to meet you all. Come on, don't be shy, step right up! Just be careful, about half of my things are either poison or trapped, and only I know which is which!" The gnome manages to blurt out his entire pitch in one breath, and it's obvious he's said it a thousand times.

[hoverfrog]

Mina left Roger's hand on her waist. It was probably a mistake and one she'd made before but it was good having him around. The rough callouses on his fingers against her smooth skin felt right somehow. Then Isaac launched into his summary and was surprised when he explained why Roger was here, "Wait, you're working for Lyrandar? When did you change your mind? The last time I suggested you join the House proper you said...what was it? Oh yes 'I'd rather swim through Shargon's Teeth that tie myself to a dragonmarked house', wasn't it?" She stepped away from him angrily, "Now I found out that you've joined up. Or is this another of your schemes?"

She rounds on Isaac, her delicate features flushed and angry, "So we have two Brelish spies coming here to meet a Lyrandar contact. No doubt King Boranel is trying to usurp the rightful trade agreements that we have in place by staging an attack on the goblins of Darguun. Well you won't get away with that. My investigation will reveal your collusion in this, I don't doubt."

"What's your part in this, illusionist? Are you working with the Brelish too or are you selling information to two parties like Wrex here?" Having run out of people to rant at she turns around to head along the road to Kennrun, "I'm going to find a real inn, with a real bar that serves real food. Wrex, I insist that you join me so we can conclude our business. Oh." She stops abruptly as the tinker's cart and its cacophony arrive.

"Marvellous," she lets out a frustrated sigh, "Purveyors of knocks offs and trinkets. Just what we need. Or is this another of your illusions?"

[Jopustopin]

Jor

The halfling had long forgotten how socially unaware Isaac was. Daft was another word thrown around. And, "Tell Isaac if you want the world to know". Rumor was that he was accepted into the order mainly because of his unique abilities. Isaac could somehow bind creatures that didn't exist. If Isaac was ever sent undercover to a foreign nation, Jor thought to himself, he probably would get himself killed. If they had sent him to this meeting it really meant one thing: they had no one else to send. Still that didn't answer what he was doing in the area in the first place.

Jor shook his head softly after Isaac was done speaking. Jor felt somewhat embarrassed on behalf of Breland. The situation, which moments before had felt (to Jor) official by his presence, felt like somewhat of a joke now. Even worse a ridiculous merchant was approaching this "official" meeting and spoke his sales pitch almost as the two half elves began to fight.

The strange human behind the fake bar, Isaac's speech, the two half-elves fighting, the hobgoblin, and the ridiculous gnome merchant. It was too much. Jor felt a strong need to get this situation under control so that it could be sorted out. Jor didn't even notice that he pulled out his heavy crossbow.

"ENOUGH." Jor shouted at the group. All eyes fell on him and he hesitated for a second only because he didn't know who he wanted to yell at first. He turned his crossbow to Rem and spoke firmly and with a commanding tone to his voice, "Dismiss your spells sir. Now."

Jor then turned to the Mina and spoke with a the same firm, commanding voice (hinted with the frustrations of a man who is dealing with a woman overreacting), "Breland does not need House Lyrandar's presence here. If you have a problem working with official representatives of the crown please depart. We're not spies when we're on our own soil. We're guardians m'lady."

Jor then turned to Wrex and spoke to him in goblin, "O 'uumt mog' du ubumukow' u p'rumv uv Breland drok mug uv n'kb'd. Ov ouu 'uumt v''m sun' usvundupm' dumgok o bnoud' upuud ''k vnus dr' 'ukd, O 'uumt p' ruun't du kb'ug 'odr ouu." For those who do not speak goblin you find that his body language becomes much more diplomatic.

He gave a hand motion to the hobgoblin indicating he should follow him.


Rem, Wrex, Roger

Because you speak Goblin

And can understand what Jor said

"I would like to apologize on behalf of Breland for this lack of respect. If you would feel more comfortable talking in private about news from the East, I would be honored to speak with you."


DMofDarkness

If Rem isn't going to dismiss his spells there might actually be an issue between Jor and Rem. Jor takes the defense of his homeland seriously and he views what Rem is doing as obnoxious, a complication, threatening the mission, and ultimately a threat to Breland. If Rem maintains his spells, Rem (being level 5 and assuming he's more powerful than everyone) will use force to get Rem to stop. (Not excessive force, mind you (unless you escalate it)) He's a "cop" and would not be used to civilians ignoring his commands.

[hoverfrog]

"You mean House Lyrandar doesn't need Breland's interference in free commerce." she deflates a little after her barb, she's over reacting and she knows it. Then the halfling starts talking to Wrex in some foreign language, just to exclude her from the conversation no doubt. She feels her anger spike again but there's no reason to let this jumped up little official know how much.

In careful and precise Galifar common "You say that you're here as guardians so you clearly know something about what is going on. Why don't we collaborate in this venture? That way our hobgoblin friend will only have to talk once and we won't step on one another's toes." She lets her gaze drop to the halfling's oversized feet for a moment and then back to his face before she offers a smile.

If he declines then I'll know the Breland government is trying to cut out House Lyrandar from trade in this region. She thinks to herself.

[Crinias]

The arrival of the gnome was unexpected, and although it seemed entirely harmless, the raven on Rem's shoulder focused its attention on the cart. It never hurts to be careful.

Isaac winces slightly at having made things worse with his words. I get the impression that I've missed out on a wonderful career as a straight man.

Jor was the type of guy who took his job very seriously, and Isaac had heard many tales of his daring and skill during the Last War. He was well known for his evocations and for his rather high success rate during missions. Oh, and he was a bit arrogant, but his co-workers overlooked this. Isaac did not know why he joined the Lanterns, and didn't particularly care about it.

Isaac takes up a diplomat's stance, hands outstretched, shoulders relaxed and a kind, neutral expression upon his face.
"Now now, Jor, there's no need for accusations or threats. Miss Wilhemina is right. Let's drop that for the moment and work together. We should leave politics out of this until we learn more of the matter. And..."

Isaac turns to Rem. "Can we now get a proper answer as to who you are?"

[Saskia]

Well, define "scheme", Roger says. He isn't working for Lyrandar, but he does have quite important reasons for being here. In a way I'm conducting field research. Not much is known about the Daelkyr war from the Dhakaan perspective. Most people look at hobgoblins as just barbaric monsters, but that isn't necessarily true. Just look at Wrex. Considering they did save Khorvaire I think it's only right that their story be known, such it can be told nine thousand years late.

The halfling's anger is just entertainment. Sometimes adults needed to act like children, some people just never grew out of their petulant childhood. This is just a fine opportunity to tell who fit which category. He turns his head slightly toward Mina and says You know, you really have to work for a jolly gnome tinker to sound more entertaining than The world's most conspicuous halfling spy, before patting her once on the shoulder and walking over toward the gnome.

[RaggedAngel]

The old gnome, for his part, remains perfectly complacent and quiet as the heated discussion breaks out amidst the various strangers before him. He even takes out a little chocolate bar, nibbling on it while he waits. Finally, after Roger mentions him again, he pipes up. "Now, far be it from me to give advice to two of the king's men, a pair (and possibly a pair) of House members of Lyrander, a well-armed hobgoblin and a madman (no offense), but from my perspective it doesn't seem like you have much cause to be arguing. You all want the same thing, right? To find out what's what and things of that nature.

Now, I can tell when I'm not needed, so I'll just head on down the road now. If you do end up in Kennrun, I'll have my wagon open for sale for a week or until they kick me out, whichever's soonest." He winks at Roger, murmuring in a conspiratorial tone. "If you keep your eyes and ears open, bard, you may find a tale of your very own. I've lived long enough to know when the Prophecy is roiling about."

Before anyone can make a motion to stop him, or even if they do, he slaps a big lever on his wagon and the contraption roars to life again, startling the horses into doing their share in pulling it. It begins trundling down the road at a deceptive pace, covering ground faster than any of you can move without flat-out running.

[Crinias]

Isaac turns to the gnome as he speaks, and although his comments on their identities could have been guessed at by their conversation, it is not until he mentions the word "Prophecy" that he is alarmed or surprised.

"Wait what, hold on-" he manages to say, hand outstretched toward him before the cart springs into movement.

Immediately, the raven on Rem's shoulder unfurls its wings and flies up, passing everyone else as it gains height. It then takes off after the cart in a hurry.

At a flying (average manueverability) speed of 40 ft, the raven spends a round to gain some 30 ft of height and then uses the Run action to move at 160 ft/round in a straight line after the cart. That's faster than any of us on foot while running, so it should catch up in less time than it'd get tired or need a Constitution check (it's flying, on top of that, so it should be less than a minute).

After it catches up, the raven shall try to land on the cart. Keep me informed as to what happens, or if something interferes with this plan.

As the raven does this Isaac facepalms. "Oh, of course. Too many coincidences at once. A prophecy, why am I not surprised? I'll follow him as long as I can, there is no range on my bird's ability to transmit information."

[RaggedAngel]

OOC: I believe you mean "Isaac puts his face in his palm". :smallwink:

And I like the use of Gray for labeling spoiler tags, now that I've seen it done.

Issac: The raven is able to catch up to the cart fairly easily, and the gnome doesn't seem to notice it at first. He just continues whistling a jaunty tune, traveling down the road with a great many bounces and quite loudly.

[Fable Wright]

As Rem opens his mouth to reply to Roger, before being interrupted by Isaac, then Mina, then Jor, meaning to reply to each before getting interrupted. Slightly huffy, he waves his hands and the walls, floor, and furniture of the establishment all vanish, leaving just the bar, the stools before and behind it, and whatever's under it. He then proceeds to just rap his fingers on the table as Jor attempts to be diplomatic with the hobgoblin. When Isaac asks Rem a question, he once again begins responding, before he's cut off again by Roger and the Gnome. At the gnome's accusation, Rem looks indignant, before then cocking his head in a thoughtful expression and shrugging.

As the conversation reaches a lull, Rem finally begins to speak up. "Right. So, now that we've got that fiasco all settled, shall we follow the gnome and find a place to exchange information proper, or shall we just chat about it here, out in the open?" He speaks in a casual, confident matter, as though everyone was a close-knit group of friends already. He leans casually on the counter while sitting on the still-illusionary bar stool, an amused expression on his face.

[Crinias]

"'The odds of someone else of importance showing up here out of the blue are exceedingly unlikely...' is what I'd say if I wanted to tempt fate in this situation. I vote that we go to Kennrun and speak more at length there. It would probably be more comfortable, as well."

[hoverfrog]

"Scroll Bearer, be a dear and follow that wagon. See if anything odd happens to it." The homunculus launches itself from Mina's shoulder to follow the raven. Though naturally faster Mina sees no reason to race the bird. After all the construct won't tire and can adjust its own speed to match the gnome and horses.

"Roger, you're going to have to tell me what you've been doing for the last year or so. Are you working for House Lyrandar or not?" If he was then it might solve one of their problems. No, they'd walked this path before and it didn't work then.

"One other thing," she leans very close to Roger, practically breathing in his ear, "My Goblin is really rusty. What did the spy say to the hobgoblin?" It burned not knowing what he'd said and she resolved to resume her lessons in the ancient language at the first opportunity. If there really was some kind of goblin trouble then it would make sense for her to be more familiar with it that she was now. "And 'field research'? I know that you've always loved your stories and histories but to actually go out and research them yourself? That's new isn't it?

After receiving an answer she joins the others in setting off for Kennrun, flitting between the various members of the group to talk about every day things. She asks dozens of inconsequential questions about how they like the weather, what it is like where they come from, have they ever flown on an air ship, etc. Nothing probing but all aimed at getting to know everyone a little better. If nothing else it should make the next few hours pass easily. Travel with Mina is easy as long as she isn't bickering with anyone. She's very sociable and easy going and learned on a variety of topics from art to arcana, from architecture to the principles of magic.

"Isaac, earlier you said that you were a Binder? Is that a title of some sort? I saw that you had a bird with you and I've known mages bind such animals as familiars and Greensingers form mystical bonds with animals. Is that what you meant by 'binder'? I'd be very interested in discussing how your magical training differs from that taught in Passage or at Morgrave or even those of the different druid sects of the Eldeen Reaches. I was there eight years ago, you know, during the war. I was only young but they have such a wonderful way of looking at nature. It's all spirits and other planes to them, very poetic.

If conversation wanes she'll encourage Roger to strike up a tune that she'll sing along to. Though her voice is untrained she has a natural talent and has committed hundreds of songs to memory. "Perhaps you can teach me one of your Dhakanni songs, Master Wrex"

OOCHow fast is the wagon moving out of interest. Can the homunculus keep up without putting in extra effort? Fly speed of 50 feet. Given that Mina is aware of whatever the construct is aware of I'd like a better look at the horses and contraption. Scroll Bearer will return after travelling for 1500 feet though.

Given the difficulties of marrying up the skill system with the acquisition of language I'm assuming that it is acceptable to say that Mina has picked up the basics of many of the common languages of Khorvaire but isn't yet proficient with them. Much like my own basic skill in French and German. That way I can add Goblin when I next put a rank in speak language.

[Saskia]

Roger tries to ignore the association of Mina's hot, moist breath in his ear with memories of other times he's felt it, and decides to address her question directly, without any more delay than is necessary. He places his hand on Mina's back as he walks following the wagon, and whispers to her in kind, a hint of contempt in his words, Oh, he was shamelessly kissing ass and apologizing on behalf of Breland for the indignity of not being called a monster, or something to that effect.

I haven't started working for Lyrandar again. You know as well as I do that between my mother's standing, my uncertain father, and my proclivity for aggravating those who don't like innocent questions there's very little chance they'd trust me with a mangy gelding, much less investigating trade disruptions, and you said yourself cleaning stables is far beneath me. But yeah, conducting actual academic research is a fairly new development. He sighs lightly; not aggravated, but almost liberated, with a subtle boost in his already confident stride. I've been working a proper job even, balancing time between duties as an instructor at the Library of Korranberg of all places, and recovering lost knowledge to complete my own research. Mostly it's focused on what various conditions other than war, plague, and calamity can cause a powerful and prosperous nation to splinter or even shatter. But then, He looks Mina in the eye and grins. The details would probably bore you. With some slight effort he suppresses his own laughter; he clearly finds his own idea absurd, or maybe he just expects others to scoff, but says anyway Maybe if we have diagnosable pathologies for social decline then we could prevent wars and unrest like we can any other plague, right? He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before looking at Mina again. What about you, Mina? Same song, new verse?

[RaggedAngel]

Mina:
Your homunculus travels at the same speed as the cart does, so it'll have to 'run' for a little while to catch up. Once it does, it sees a pretty peaceful sight; gnome, cart, and raven. Doesn't your homunculus have a range of one mile?

[hoverfrog]

Mina finds herself laughing at Roger's off hand translation, a gentle, musical sound that she suppresses with the back of her hand after a moment. "You know I didn't mean it about mucking out stables being beneath you, I was just angry and anyway, that was years ago. Am I forgiven?" She was always forgiven but it never hurt to ask once in a while.

"I'm always interested in details, you know that. The Korranberg library, how did you get in? I once had an hour long conversation with a Zil merchant before he would even reveal his name. In that time he'd gotten my entire lineage back to Salavesh the Firstborn and my plans for dinner that evening. They do love their secrets," she lets out another breezy laugh, "Their's and other people's"

"I don't think we're in a social decline, not the khorovar anyway. The war is over, we're rebuilding, trade is expanding, Xen'drik is opening up. There's a new race, made by Cannith, walking the land in need of guidance and old races like the Dhakaani are reborn into the modern age. Do you know that the Lightning Rail is going to be expanded as soon as local governments agree to sponsor their share of it and there are new classes of airship being designed? It's a brave, new world and we can steer it in the right direction if we don't let the old animosities and nationalism resurface. Of course there are set backs. Rekkenmark is refusing to rebuild their part of the White Arch Bridge until Thaliost gives assurances that they will allow skeleton labourers to work unmolested and the Thranes are insisting that no animated dead have any hand in its construction but what can you expect from such rigid thinking, particularly among the Karrns?" Mina seems oblivious to the fact that her 'brave new world' doesn't seem to encompass the nations that she dislikes.

"Do you remember when...when I left? Well I went to Stormhome. Oh, Roger, you've never seen a more beautiful city. The Bitter Sea is held at bay so you can swim in the water, the air is always warm with a soft breeze to take the edge off it. Ten miles in any direction and you have ice in the water and black clouds blocking out the sun. I met Esravash and she spoke to me about my work. I've been building machines. Lyrandar has relied on Cannith too long for building things, it's time we stood on our own feet. There's no reason why Zilargo and Cannith have a monopoly on binding elementals to our ships. We should have that knowledge ourselves." She's clearly passionate about her work and the independence of her House and she goes on for some time about the wonders of Stormhome and the power of Lyrandar's mages, priests and artificers.

RaggedAngel
For quick reference I go by the d20srd and the entry for homunculus (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/monsters/homunculus.htm) shows 1500 feet. It may well have been updated in which case I'll go with that. ;)

[Crinias]

In case someone disagrees in going to Kennrun Isaac shall try to convince them to come along.

Otherwise, he'll walk along everyone else, standing in between Jor and Rem to prevent more conflict between the two, making small talk, complaining about the weather like any other Brelish would, and answering Mina's questions in a good-natured manner.

When the subject of him being a Binder comes up, he perks up and focuses his attention on her. "Ah, I'm glad you asked, Miss Wilhemina. It's a sort of complicated matter to explain openly, but I'll try to explain as best I can."

Isaac clears his throat. Most people don't take much interest in Binders, or find it too strange for their tastes. Best take this chance to make more people learn about it.

"My type of magic, Pact Magic, is an unusual, obscure sort, one you might go your entire life without hearing. It is unrelated to any other type of magic, as far as I know. A wizard taking a raven as a familiar, with both parties gaining benefits from their connection, is similar to what I do. Through a strange and decidedly simpler method than any other type of magic (which I can show to you later if you wish), a Binder contacts beings not from this world known as vestiges and makes pacts with them, to gain power from them. In exchange the vestige experiences this world through the Binder's senses, and to some small degree holds influence over him. This pact involves binding them, or at least a bit of their essence, into their souls." Isaac briefly pauses, suddenly contemplating his great gaps in knowledge regarding vestiges. Perhaps they would never be filled.

He then continues. "The nature, origin or place of residence of these vestiges are all mostly unknown; it is as likely that they come from Xoriat or Dal Quor as they may have once been part of Eberron, depending on their associated legends. Everything else about them is shrouded in myth..." At this point Isaac describes a few tales of how some vestiges supposedly came to be, their legends, and how the legend reflects upon the abilities that the vestige grants. As an example he speaks at length of Malphas the Turnfeather, the vestige he is currently binding. He tells his tale to the best of his ability, taking his time to detail Malphas' acts of treachery after pretending to be benevolent, and his lover's reveal about deceiving him into doing them.

"...His kin found him lying dead on the floor, from a broken heart and soul. So the legend goes. A traitor is rewarded with betrayal in turn." Isaac then smiled. Jor would probably like that sort of ending, loyal as he was to Breland. "By the way, each vestige manifests a physical sign upon any Binder who binds it. Sometimes it's subtle, sometimes not. In case a Binder does not fall under the vestige's influence, it can suppress it or show it-" At this, Isaac opens his mouth, showing his tongue and teeth. Suddenly, both turn an absolute black. They remain that way for a few seconds before returning to their natural color. "-like so, at will." Isaac stops smiling for a moment. "It's entirely possible for you to have met a Binder without knowing it, considering how easy it is to hide most signs. Due to how simple it is to learn Pact Magic, there are surely many others like me out there." Isaac leaves the subject at that, smiling yet again, as though to welcome Mina to ask any questions.

OOC
If it belongs in D&D it belongs in Eberron, so I suppose the legends of vestiges are known here, with some modifications here and there. For whatever reason it took me a while to explain it all the way I wanted. I think I worried a bit too much about not making it seem boring to whose of you who already know of Binders, though.

[hoverfrog]

"Do you have to bind them to yourself or can you bind them to objects or constructs?" Mina is clearly thinking of the practical applications of this new type of magic. "For example when an elemental is bound to a vessel its essence is trapped in a dragonshard. This process can also be applied to armour and even some weapons as well as more mundane objects. If an aspect of the elemental or other extra planar force could be extracted and bound permanently then we could have all kinds of applications. Imagine a lightning rail carriage with an aspect of cold bound to it so that food could be kept cool and preserved for long journeys or an aspect of rage placed on a warforged titan to make it stronger in battle."

"When we reach Kennrun I'd like some more detail about the process to see whether or not I can duplicate it. Would you mind if I observed you entering a pact and binding an aspect of a spirit? I'm neither a wizard nor a priest, my magic relies on the application of fundamental magical forces rather than focusing them through spells. I don't see any reason why your Pact Magic should be any different. I mean if you concentrate on the end result rather than the process, magic is magic and it doesn't matter how it is wielded." She smiles at her own observation wondering if this Path Magic might be a way to break free from Zilargo and Cannith and produce an elemental ship without them. "Have you ever visited Stormhome? I was just telling Roger how beautiful it is there. The things that are researched there rival that of Arcanix itself and even Metrol at the height of Cannith and Cyre's power was never so breathtaking a sight. You might consider visiting after your mission here. I'm sure that the heirs of Lyrandar would be fascinated with you."

[King Tius]

Wrex stands with his arms crossed, listening to the heated quarreling of the two lovers and the dreary philosophizing and pondering about magics. He throws back the rest of the wine with one big swig (not spilling any, mind you) and puts the cup back on the illusory bar (or just drops it if the bar is gone by then). As the babbling conversation starts to walk towards Kennrun, the hobgoblin finally looks at Jor and responds. A slight smile remains on his face from when the halfling drew his crossbow.

Ouun ubumuko ok ud ''t't, Moddm' 'unnoun. O ''t u kur bnouo, pud O bn'v'n du dumg 'odr m'kk bnuddmok upuud. Dr' kuvdkgok k''s sun' u'n't 'odr kukkob dru dumg uv 'un. Un' dr'o 'odr ouu un ud?

Translation

"Your apology is not needed, Little Warrior*. I need no such privacy, but I prefer to talk with less prattling about. The softskins seem more concerned with gossip than talk of war. Are they with you or not?"

*Said using respectful Goblin words and not as a jab


OOC

I'm going to hold off on the talk of singing and Dhakaani lore since Jor and I may not be walking with the group.

[Jopustopin]

Jor

The halfling had stood there listening to the group chatter on, their attention turning from one fanciful subject to the next. His had not waivered; he watched the hobgoblin the entire time.

Jor didn't know what was going on. He had not been updated on anything in the area. He was walking into a situation blind. But he did not believe Mina for a second. Honestly if they were going to come up with a lie for their involvement they should have at least made it believable. Jor glanced at Isaac. Unbelievable was a bit too much; someone believed it. The halfling looked back to the hobgoblin.

House Lyrandar was involved in trade, sure, but there were no major shipping lanes out here in the Vale. Not even near the Vale. No ships, no House Lyrandar. Mira might believe she's here for this reason, but Jor didn't.

While the group continued to talk, Jor's mind raced: threat to Breland, involving the goblins to the east. What is really going on here?

When Isaac became distracted, again, this time by the gnome muttering about some prophecy. Jor fell back with Wrex and began speaking privately to him. The rest of the group's discussion seemed to occupy their attention giving Jor some time to talk to the hobgoblin.

He replied back to Wrex quietly, "'un? 'odr Darguun? Kunno, O s'u u, dr'k' b'ubm' un' ud 'odr s'. Ruuk' Lyrandar ruk dr'on u' od'n'kdk. Okuu ut O 'ung vun dr' nu'. O tu ud gu' 'ru dr' udr'n rusu ok, 'ro r' ruk dug' u od'n'kd o uun kudr'nok, ru' r' gu'k ku sur upuud Okuu'k utt upomodo'k, ut 'ro r' udou'k du dnu'm 'odr uk."

Jor and Wrex noticed the group walking off, and they followed behind slowly. With the group's attention on other things they spoke on their own.

Isaac notices Jor finally when he goes to try to stand in between him and Rem. Jor is nowhere near Rem and is twenty feet back with Wrex.

Goblin
War? With Darguun? Sorry, I mean no, these people are not with me. House Lyrandar has their own interests. Isaac and I work for the Crown. I do not know who the other human is, why he has taken an interest in our gathering, how he knows so much about Isaac's odd abilities, and why he continues to travel with us."

[RaggedAngel]

Mina: The cart continues pulling ahead of the group as you travel on foot, and eventually your homunculus is butting up against the edge of its range. It stays as close to the cart as it can without moving beyond 1500 feet, but it soon looses sight of it due to the heavy forestation along the road.

Isaac: The trees grow thicker, and soon your raven notices the ugly homunculus falling behind, almost as if it is unable to stray too far from its mistress. The gnome continues bouncing along cheerful as he travels, never sparing a single glance for the bird perched atop his cart.

This continues for a good hour along the road, until you see a fallen log come across the road ahead. The gnome slows to a stop, scratching at his whiskers. "This is awfully inconvenient," he mutters to himself. "You lads and ladies are awfully far behind now, aren't you. Darn. I guess I'll have to see if I have a potion that'll help me heft this thing." You realize that he was addressing the raven and you directly, though he still never spares a glance towards the bird.

The gnome gets out of his cart, walking around to the side, still whistling loudly to himself. He never hears the three or four arrows that slam into his back and the side of his cart until after they have struck. As soon as the arrows fly eight well-armed hobgoblin warriors wearing hard boiled leather with a bloody hand-print on their chest storm out from hiding, rushing towards the cart. The horses spook, rearing up, and charge towards the fallen tree trunk, frothing out the mouths in terror at the sight of naked steel and the smell of the gnome's blood. They attempt to leap over the tree, but the cart slams into it bodily, and three dozen potions break all at once, triggering a score of traps at the same time.

The conflagration of wild magic destroys your little spy.

[hoverfrog]

Mina's attention seems to wander for a moment, "That gnome and his contraption have put on a fair pace. I thought he might be rushing ahead to show off but he's still going flat out," she mentions dreamily before issuing a mental command to the homunculus, Wait there. Hide. Keep watch for anything in the trees or on the ground.

"The road gets thick with trees up ahead. Do you know that conductor stones are enchanted to prevent animals from disturbing them and to stop the growth of plants that might interfere with the motion of the Lightning Rail? It's a pity that they don't extend along this road. It isn't just wild animals that we might have to contend with. This far from Wroat there's bound to be bandits and other creatures lurking in the woods and hills looking for easy prey." The Iron Defender starts ahead only to begin a circular route around the party.

Scroll Bearer's Hide check [roll0]
Scroll Bearer's Spot check [roll1]
Scroll Bearer's Listen check [roll2]
Pig's Spot check [roll3]
Pig's Listen check [roll4]
Mina's Spot check [roll5]
Mina's Listen check [roll6]

The constructs both have low light vision and 60' darkvision though the forest probably isn't that dark.

[Saskia]

"Don't be ridiculous, Mina. You were right anyway, and if that's all the House wants me for I don't need them. Angry or not, you don't need to make any apology for being completely correct."

Roger is easily grateful for the change of topic. There isn't much he likes less than talking about family. "If you're interested I can let you read my research when we're done with whatever's going on here. I got into the Library by essentially spending a lot more time in Xen'drik than most academics. Proximity made me more of an expert than most, I suppose, and since I was interested in more than just selling artifacts I actually learned a lot in my time there. I don't think we're in decline either, but we are on the verge of another brutish war and it can't hurt to inoculate ourselves with knowledge. The khorovar aren't the only ones around, after all. If the Four Nations aren't happy, nobody's happy, and Boranel seems to be the only ruler agitating for peace, and while I'm glad she's finally recognized your talents, Esravash doesn't seem to be helping either." He withdraws his waterskin and takes a drink from it, and says "Anyway, it's good to see you again."

He tries to slow his pace to keep Isaac and Wrex in earshot as long as possible, which for Roger's acute hearing is quite a good distance, but not such that he'll fall behind the others or that it will be obvious what he's doing.

[King Tius]

Wrex continues his talk with the little man, seeing no reason to stop speaking in Goblin.

Dr'n' ok u kduns pn''ok o Darguun ut 'r' od kbommk u'n dr' suuduok ut odu Breland uputo 'omm k'' od usok. Dr' kuvdkgo udouk un' ''ug vnus ouun rutn't o'un 'un ut 'omm ud p' upm' du rumt pug dr' kuuk' dot'.


Translation

"There is a storm brewing in Darguun and when it spills over the mountains and into Breland nobody will see it coming. The softskin nations are weak from your hundred year war and will not be able to hold back the savage tide."

[Fable Wright]

Rem's ears perk up with Wrex's comment, and he begins to drift backwards from the rest of the group until he's walking beside the hobgoblin and halfling.

"Dar mec or tuur? A magaan daraal daan mec or kerlec ac daan ar ac dhaach daan dec rhuul, rhor A magaan khruur taac daakhaar daan shuul dhuur a kerlec tuur, duugarthuun, or duugaan tech. Huul daach, dar druun o muul or dar an shuulkec?"

Translation
What kind of storm? I have tasted the hint of lightning in the air and felt the winds blow, but I have not seen whether the clouds form a lightning storm, tornado, or worse still. Pray tell, what do you know of what is coming?

[Crinias]

Seeing that Jor is talking with Wrex, Isaac decides to not interrupt their conversation, and walks ahead of them, to not bother them. He could speak to Jor later.

"I'm afraid Vestiges can only be bound to a Binder's soul, Miss Wilhemina. You see, the nature of their power is such that the powers each vestige grants can be very different from one another. Pact Magic is undoubtedly different from the rest. For instance, a vestige might grant a Binder proficiency with certain weapons, the ability to summon a creature, replicate a common spell or even give physical changes to aid in combat, but off the top of my head I can't think of any could who could be bound efficiently to armor, weapons or objects. Then again, there is much unknown about vestiges..." He says thoughtfully, before shaking his head. No ideas came to mind.

"Some texts I've read mention that in theory pact magic could be mixed efficiently with arcane magic to enhance the latter at the former's cost (I've never seen it myself), but beyond that I suspect more thorough research would be required to properly develop new uses of vestiges. I suppose binding elementals to dragonshards didn't happen from one day to the next; to achieve a goal like the one you mentioned I'd be more than willing to collaborate on such an enterprise." Isaac smiles warmly at Mina while saying this. It's the absolute truth. If something as great as an airship or something of the sort could be build by using vestiges as a power source it would be a great step forward in creating a general awareness of pact magic. Of course, how to do this all was the big question here. And if the process hindered vestiges, it would go against his wishes. Are such things like what Mina suggests possible?

"I wouldn't mind at all showing you how I bind a vestige tomorrow, and I can attest to the fact that binding vestiges can be done by anyone with the will and knowledge. The real question is how much effort you would be willing to undergo to bind them. Of the few who have listened to me in the Dark Lanterns, most refuse to learn how, claiming they do not wish to delay their efforts in learning more of their given skills. I'm afraid this might be a similar case." He says while making a complicated expression, one halfway between understanding and resignation.

"Oh, Stormhome? I've heard much about it, but between my assignments I have not had much time for leisure. Thankfully, after this mission ends I'll have much free time: You see, before I was contacted to take on this mission I was on a sort-of vacation, visiting different places in order to learn more about vestiges. I've already visited Morgrave University and the Library of Korranberg, but I've yet to go to other places of note. I was contacted on Sterngate while going back to Sharn before coming here. It's why I don't know much about our current mission."

Isaac goes on to speak about how he planned to go to Arcanix next, but that going to Stormhome sounds like a great idea, as well. He engages Mina on the general subject of the places, and other minutiae.

------------------
Approximately one hour after setting out towards Kennrun, long after Mina's comment about the gnome's cart, much small talk, and entering the wooded area, Isaac stops suddenly, as though stunned for some reason.

"Ah." Isaac says flatly. There is a cold sort of anger in his voice, very different from his normally cheerful disposition. He proceeds to take out his light crossbow from his Haversack and load it. On his left shoulder, out of nowhere, another nondescript raven appears.

"It seems, Miss Wilhemina, that you were right regarding bandits. Our gnome friend met a fallen tree in his path, and while thinking of a way to remove it from his way he was ambushed by a dozen hobgoblins. In the chaos that ensued his horses were spooked and his cart exploded. He is most likely dead."

OOC
Long post is long.

[King Tius]

Wrex sees Rem trying to listen in on their conversation but makes no attempt to speak softer. When the strange smokey man turns and actually addresses Wrex, in his native tongue, no less, the hobgoblin barely pays him any mind. He responds in Common quite loudly for all to hear.

"Piss off, Wench, we don't need any more wine."

[Jopustopin]

Jor's eyes narrow. The man was over twenty feet away, how had he heard them speaking? Jor wouldn't have spoken freely about his suspicions on the man if he thought that he could possibly overhear them. He knows too much, he has no reason to be here, and his senses are far more keen than is humanly possible. What game was this man playing?

The hobgoblins response was as abrasive as it was shocking. Jor's thoughts were interrupted. He stood watching the odd looking human to see what his reaction would be.

[Fable Wright]

Rem stops abruptly, not even bothering to turn to face the hobgoblin. The left half of his face becomes illuminated with light, visible even from behind; to those in front of him, the normally blue veins on his face are burning white. The scent of ozone also begins to fill the air, as the greatsword that is suddenly very visible by his side begins to crackle with electricity. "Dhakaan," he says in a measured voice, "Do not test me. I am many things to many people. I am a madman, a murderer, a heretic, and an impossibility, first and foremost, to many people. To a few people, I am a guardian unto death. To others, I am the scourge that will cleave them from existence. One thing that I am not, and will never be, is a 'wench.' I currently have no quarrel with your race nor your tribe as a whole. As I understand it, that is suddenly about to change as they turn from beautiful echoes from the past into blighted corruption. Those who take the Mournland's poison are soon to be dying by the dozen." He turns to face the hobgoblin. "The question I'm trying to answer right now is how far the blight has spread. Whether it's isolated sickness, or whether the entire race has been turned by the Mourning. As the only representative of your people with me at this time, and one who appears to wish to hold back the Blight, you are the measure by which I hold the best of your people. Do you really wish to insult me so gravely in such circumstances?" He stares at the hobgoblin fiercely, the stench of ozone staining the air, ghostly light emitting from his face, and, in the reflection of his eye, you can barely make out the faintest reflection of a collapsing, burning buildings with people trapped within, though it's impossible to tell whether human, hobgoblin, or another humanoid race. Despite this, his face is impassive, his expression grim but not threatening.

"There is one thing that we have in this dream, Dhaakan: The role we play in it. Do not insult me for trying to find mine, nor insinuating that I was trapped in death to play such a degrading role, and we can get along civilly. Else, we're going to have to settle our differences, here and now." He stands steady after issuing his ultimatum, waiting for the hobgoblin's reply.

[King Tius]

Wrex puts both hands on his hips and gives a hearty laugh at Rem's little display. He glances at Jor as his laugh fades to a chuckle. "Guess I hit a nerve, eh Little Warrior?" When he turns back to Rem his face is all business.

"Insult? You dare speak to me about insult, you insolent worm? You served the bird a cup of wine before me. In Darguun I'd eat your heart and wear your intestines as a necklace for such an obvious display of hostility. Fortunately for you, we are not in Darguun and I do not waste my time with little boys pretending to play gods. Make good on your threat or stop wasting my time."

OOC: I don't allow intimidate checks against other PCs in my game but Angel if you want one (or want to roll one) Wrex has a +9.

[Jopustopin]

Jor did not like where this was heading, but if it was between the hobgoblin and this stranger who had done nothing but meddle where he had no business meddling, well, the choice was obvious. The goblin still had more information to give and this man was clearly not helping this situation. Isaac would have his back, that much he knew. The contact had to be protected at all cost.

Jor pulled out his crossbow, "Begone stranger. I'll not ask you again. You have no business here and you have overstayed your welcome."

[Saskia]

Roger sighs heavily. Dealing with adventurers is like running a daycare, he says lowly to Mina, and turns to the comrades he regrets having to rely on.

To the hobgoblin he speaks quickly and forcefully. He seemed to be the sort of man to appreciate that, after all. Wrex, quit being a prick. To Jor he says simply Put it away. You're not helping. He turns his attention next to the bizarre wordchef and says calmly, Please, enough with the posturing. I'm not going to pretend I have any idea what that word salad meant, but no thinking man should degrade himself by acting like strangers who don't even know his name should know his life's story, and that's precisely what you're doing. He folds his arms and continues with an almost fatherlike condescension, as if he can't believe the meaningless tantrums he's witnessing, If I can get along with a band of Xen'drik's drow for half a year there's no excuse for civilized men like you to be at each others' throats after an hour. You're grown men. Act like it.

[Fable Wright]

Rem continues to stare at Wrex with an unfazed expression, not moving despite Jor's warning. "If there is any being in existence right now who needs that drink, it was is raven. The raven is the physical embodiment of the person who had the worst day in the history of Eberron, one who loved another so deeply he would kill for her, and whose last moments on earth were being scorned by that lover and shown ultimate betrayal by her, before his soul was wrenched out of reality itself, never to experience sensation ever again, save those rare times people are willing to offer him one day piggybacking on their life with no control whatsoever, no matter how repugnant he finds them. I would serve the raven before I would serve myself, even if it was the last bit of water I had in the middle of a desert. There were 3 other people in the room that I would serve before any other customers after Malphas, the emissaries from the Dragonmarked houses, for whom Khorvaire owes its greatness, and the man who was willing to offer Malphas a day in existence. You claim that you are more important than each of those individuals, and speak to me of insolence?" Rem's expression takes on a harder tone as he stares at Wrex.

Glancing at Roger as he tries to settle the situation, he turns his sights back on Wrex and replies, "I do not believe him to know everything about my life, nor act like he does. I just wish him to know who he is insulting, and why I shall not stand for it. I do not require apologies or recompense, but that he knows who he is insulting, what the insult is, and what the consequences of further transgression are."

[Crinias]

Isaac notices the trouble brewing and curses himself for not noticing more quickly. He mutters an apology to Mina quickly and strides towards the confrontation, following Roger, who might as well be a saint in his eyes.

"Roger has the right of it. Wrex, you're important to us, so if it came down to it I'd fight and kill to protect you, but openly insulting others is simply too much, it's asking for trouble. Is that what warriors do? Insult one another in petty ways? For shame!"

He turns to Rem. "You, sir... I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to know you better. You seem the thoughtful sort. Your explanation about Malphas is satisfying for me, and I highly appreciate the gesture, now that I understand what it is you meant." Isaac hesitates slightly, but his determination shines through, and he continues speaking.

"But threatening the one person who you know is our contact is simply too much. He goaded you into it, but conflict such as this is disruptive. Jor's right, you haven't even given us a name or a reason to come with us, it's hard to trust someone like that. Regardless of who you are or your role in this world, if you wish to come with us, the least you should do is give us a reason to trust you. Societal norms demand at least a bit of cooperation in this regard. And I'm not asking you to forgive Wrex any more than I'll ask him to forgive you, but if you wish to come with us you must also not fight with him. This is all I ask of you."

Upon finishing this, he simply stares Rem down, without blinking.

[Saskia]

That poor bird had even worse luck with romance than Roger did.

Roger remains undaunted. That's not even the point, Isaac. He returns his steely gaze to Rem. You're doing it again. Infantile jokes are not grounds for threats, and it only makes you a fool if you think otherwise. That's exactly the thinking that started the war that created the Mournland you're so concerned about. If you care about that the way you say, you have a fine opportunity to show it by manning up and ignoring a childish transgression.

[hoverfrog]

Mina stays clear of the confrontation. Men stretch their muscles when they're in a group, always trying to see who is the alpha. Well, she'd have no part of it but briefly considers creating a charm to alter their emotions and make them more compliant. She rejects it though, it may be convenient but it would cause more problems if they found out. Instead she tuts loudly and walks ahead of all the posturing.

--

An hour later after retrieving the homunculus.

"That poor man," she does seem genuinely sad at the news, "Scroll Bearer, scout around in case anyone is laying a trap for us and look for another path." The homunculus takes to the air again, darting up the canopy where it is concealed. "If only he'd been more patient, he could have taken the road with us. My magic would have protected him."

"How far away is the wagon, Isaac? Half an hour or so I'd guess at the speed he was going. I'd like to prepare some infusions for protection before we get there."

OOC
The homunculus to scout ahead. What can he see exactly?

[RaggedAngel]

Mina: He's about four miles away right now. ((100-60)*10*60)/5280= 4.5454 miles
So at 60ft per round, that's exactly 40 minutes away. Good estimate on your part.

Your homunculus can see nothing of the road ahead; this stretch of woods is very thick, and the trees block the road from sight other than a thin brown line that stretches into the distance in either direction. It is, you muse, a fantastic place for a roadside trap.

[King Tius]

Seeing that a fight is not going to break out and that most of the people gathered around him seem to have his back, Wrex takes his hands off the chain around his waist. He waves his hand in front of his face as if he were swatting a fly.

"So many words, so little action.

He turns back to Jor and says: "Perhaps we should discuss this later."

[Fable Wright]

Rem grudgingly puts his sword away, and the smell of ozone in the air fades slightly. The glare surrounding Rem fades, though the veins on his face still glow white-hot. "Do not think this is over, Dhakaan. This will not be forgotten, and the consequences will reach further than you know." With that, he stalks off, matching pace with the party from a few feet off the far side of the road from the rest of the party in a quiet huff, a strong wind seeming to blow around him, though it doesn't seen to extend further than a few inches from Rem.

OOC
Rem probably isn't going to be speaking to anyone from this point on until the ambush, just saying.

[hoverfrog]

"Gentlemen, " Mina frowns at them, glad that they've finished bickering at last but annoyed that the last three or four miles have been somewhat subdued. "I know you've all been embroiled in your own thoughts but it seems that the poor gnome has been ambushed up ahead. If you have any aggression that you wish to vent then I suggest that you save it. We may well be the next intended victims."

"Would anyone like for me to enchant their main weapon or ammunition, just in case? Or armour, I can enhance armour too. I have some other abilities but they're much quicker to bring into effect. This is just a precaution. Would you mind telling me what your own skillsets are as we've only just met. Who is a trained warrior, who can draw on arcane or divine power? Can anyone look for signs in the undergrowth for bandits or monsters?" She glances at Wrex when she says monsters, realises that this could be construed as an insult and hastily adds, "I mean trolls and creatures of Shavarath. Not goblins or their kin. Goblinoids are free citizens of the Five Nations just as khorovar, humans and halflings are." She flushes with embarrassment at the racism that she has unwittingly given voice to.

"Sorry, that came out wrong. I meant no disrespect." She grimaces and decides to stop talking, when you're at the bottom of a hole, stop digging, that was what mother used to say.

OOC
:smallredface: yeah, I did that deliberately to lighten the mood.