If You Have A Date in Korvosa...

[Unimportant]

Korvosa. The capital of the Torumekian Empire. The Bulwark of the West.

Korvosa. Home of the royal House of Arabasti, holders of the Imperial Throne for seven generations of the High Men. Home of the Thirty Great Houses, the dukes and high lords of the Empire, the generals and statesmen of Torumekia.

Korvosa. Center of trade and commerce between the West and the farther East. Host of tradesmen, merchants, diplomats, and scholars from far and near. Bustling heart of the Empire.

Korvosa. The streets of her slums swarm with lowly servants, serfs, and cast-offs. She is the mother of untold suffering orphan children. Her sewers and pits hide monsters and horrors unspeakable.

Korvosa. Her palaces echo with whispers, intrigues, and plots. The Thirty Houses watch each other warily, measure the slipping sands of the Emperor Eodred's life to a nicety, and appraise the mettle of his young, ambitious queen Ileosa with cold, unsympathetic eyes.

Korvosa. The eye of a gathering storm.

[Mauve Shirt]

Bustling is right. Since leaving academia Cyra feels like she's never had time to think. Of course, much like academia, not having time to think simply means spending too much time thinking.

Today Cyra is fulfilling commissions, which means she is above the shop, carving sigils and symbols into wood and leather and steel.

Good, that's an axe. I would hate to be Garth the Destroyer's enemy. Next on the list.... Ugh. Not a flintlock, please. That's a good 4 hours of my day lost to tedium and potential explosion.

Nope, it's true. Some noblewoman's guard got a promotion or something and is looking for the latest shiny object. Woah, anti-vampire engravings? That's a hell of a promotion. No request for custom ammo, up-sell opportunity. Cha, as they say, ching. I should travel with this money.


This is FATE, so you are rolling 4d6. There are no +, - and blank dice on this forum, so for these purposes
1 & 2 = -
3 & 4 = blank
5 & 6 = +
Ignore the cumulative result number.
This is how you roll:
#d# with #d# being 4d6

Below is my Will roll to ensure that carving that gun does not result in a mild explosion.
[roll0]
+, -, - and blank. That's a roll of -1. Add my Will of 4, and that's a score of 3. The DM would tell me if this were a fail and if I needed to take Stress or a consequence.

For purposes of this being an intro/tutorial, I'll assume this stress disappears at the end of the scene. :smallwink:

[storytellerrose]

Lady Alithyra Whitt tapped her fingers on the counter in front of her. Business in the shop in the middle of the usually busy marketplace in Korvosa had been slow. The whole district was hurting today, she knew. Not even the shipyards were bustling -- there were fewer tall masts out in the harbor than usual. For once, she had no idea why. Still, she couldn't just close up shop. Any business was good business, after all.

Around mid-afternoon she gave up trying to keep her wavy black hair out of her face and tied it back in a loose braid -- entirely unbecoming of a young noble, but a style she preferred. Alithyra smiled to herself as she imagined what her family would think if they saw her. Silently, she wished one of her less-than-reputable contacts would have something exciting for her for the evening's activities. She couldn't take much more of the boredom in the shop.

Just before the sun went down, the door opened. Alithyra immediately stood up straighter and pulled her hair free of the braid. "Good evening, sir. How can I help you today?"

The gentleman was a full head taller than her own height, which impressed her. The Whitt family stretched its much-diluted lineage back to the First Age. He stepped forward and Alithyra could see the silver sheen to his hair. She immediately curtsied.

The Eldarin man waved a hand. "Please, I come in the name of business. I'm told this shop is the finest purveyor of many goods."

Alithyra nodded. "Yes. We trade in items from all countries -- and we specialize in hard-to-find items."

The man smiled. "Excellent. I'm in need of an item called 'the orb of the deep woods'. Legend speaks to it's origins from before the First Age. Do you have it?"

Alithyra frowned. She knew the inventory like the back of her hand -- she'd acquired most of the items personally. "I'm afraid not. Do you have any more details?"

The man nodded. "Please, close your shop first. I don't want anyone to overhear."

Alithyra grinned. "Of course, sir, of course. Let me get you some tea."

[Unimportant]

Woah, anti-vampire engravings? That's a hell of a promotion. No request for custom ammo, up-sell opportunity. Cha, as they say, ching. I should travel with this money.

You look up from your reveries (as you *occasionally* do) and come to realize it is evening - past time for the family supper. By long custom, your parents have (in exasperation) ceased to pester you about joining the meal on-time, which has made the evenings much more tolerable for everyone concerned.

As you make your way up the stairs from the workshops to the family apartments, you can hear the first echoes of a lively discussion. Granted your family has never been known for its quiet mealtimes, but this one sounds particularly... spirited.

"For the last and final time, husband, YOU ARE NOT GOING!"

"I SHOULD go! I am the head of the household! And he was MY comrade in arms, and blood-brother! It would show him great disrespect if I did not go and claim it in person!"

"Pshaw! The letter clearly states 'you or a blood relative'! And he's already dead, so what does he care? Besides, you KNOW how touchy things are getting here in the City! What if the Emperor (Lords of Light defend him) dies while you're away! We need you - AND your contacts in the City Watch and Imperial Guards - here! We have too much to lose!"

As you reach the top of the stairs and enter the dining foyer, the familiar layout of the evening meal spreads out before you, and the scent of spicy lamb stew and fresh bread permeates the room. At the head of the table, you see your father sink down into his chair with an exasperated look on his face, obviously conceding the point to your mother and not exactly liking it. At the other end of the table, your mother is also returning to her seat, with a softening look of relief on her face. Between them, your three older brothers are sitting - the presence of the third (the one closest to you in age) is surprising, given his duties on the City Watch. He is dividing his attention between the argument and a post letter he is holding in his right hand.

"Well, I would prefer not to go, myself" - your eldest brother, who has taken it upon himself to handle the social and political ends of the family business - "what with the social calendar stepping up, and there are some excellent prospective clients I have meetings arranged with."

"Oh, yes!" The youngest brother, here. "Excellent indeed, especially given the side benefits. What's her name again, dear brother, the Border Guards' commander's daughter? Theodora, am I right?"

"Impertinent rogue!"

"Well, you MAY want to reconsider! After all, the letter is signed by Lorrimor's daughter, as I read it, and she signs with her fathers name - obviously unattached. I'd have thought that might pique your curiosity!"

"Why you insolent...!"

RAP! A sharp strike on the table by your father stops the quarrel just as it starts. "Enough of that! Kendra Lorrimor is the daughter of Petros Lorrimor, my battle-comrade and blood-brother, so she's as good as a sister to you as far as you're concerned! So keep a civil tongue in your mouth!" It doesn't escape your notice that your father, while directing this rebuke mostly at your younger brother, gave a quick and knowing look at your eldest brother during it, most particularly at the "as good as a sister" part. He evidently got the message, as whatever sparks of interest he may have had in the matter fade away in a flash.

Your middle brother has sat in silence during this entire affair, eating his meal without relish. Like you, he has always been focused on other matters - in his case, his work on the forge. What he lacks of your eldest brother's charm and your youngest brother's taste for action, he more than makes up for in armscraft. His skill is such that your father has been turning more and more of the high-end showpiece orders over to him - and both have never been happier.

Your younger brother, recovering quickly from your father's rebuke, turns the letter with interest in his hand. "I would certainly NOT mind going, Father. A jaunt up to the Borderlands would suit me quite well. And I'm sure I could plead 'family business' to my commander..."

"Old Skarapolos? He wouldn't give you the time of day. Three Hells, he didn't shed a tear at his own mother's passing!"

As your father and brother start wrangling over the matter, your mother looks up and sees you standing in the foyer, and arches her eyebrow slightly...

[Unimportant]

Alithyra grinned. "Of course, sir, of course. Let me get you some tea..."

The pungent aroma of citrus tea wafts from the kettle as you pour it into the cups. You could have had the servant girl prepare and serve it, but it was more prudent to toss her a silver penny and send her off on errands. The fewer ears that hear, the fewer tongues that wag, as they say...

Your guest patiently takes the cup from your and and sips it with satisfaction. "Of course, I did not expect you to have the Orb in your possession... but if there were anyone in Korvosa who might, it would be you. You came to us highly recommended... but so, on to business.

"This Orb has been lost to my people for uncounted generations, and until quite recently - 50 years ago, to be precise - we had believed it lost to us forever. But then we received rumors that it - or at least, an artifact of very close approximation - had been uncovered in the northern borders of your nation, near to the border hills between Ustalav and the Dark Lands beyond."

You nod politely. Even in this late hour of the Third Age, there is much unknown and yet untouched in those rough hills that separate the civilized lands under Torumekian rule, and the lurking terrors beyond. The vaunted Border Guards themselves rarely venture outside of their massive stone and wood stockades except at great need, and then only in numbers...

"Needless to say, it would not be prudent for one of us - or even one of our Elven kindred - to make direct pursuit of the Orb, or make inquiries about it there. It would alert too many prying eyes and endanger the Orb even further. So we made contact with a Loremaster who had taken up residence in that region. His natural course of studies would make his investigations about the Orb and its possible location seem much less of an immediate threat to whomever - or whatever - may be holding it.

"Alas, it was not enough. Our last letter from him, several months ago, indicated that he was extremely close to pinning down the Orb's current resting place, and that a few more weeks' work would settle the matter once and for all. But now, we have just received word that he has died, suddenly. The news is that the death is accidental, but we do not believe that for a moment. Dark shadows are stirring, and I fear he may have drawn their attention to himself prematurely.

"Therefore, we offer you the chance to serve us in this matter. Travel to Ustalav, and find out what you can about what the Loremaster had uncovered. We will pay you your travel and living expenses, up front, as a guarantee of our interest and support. Bring us word of the Orb's location, and you will be further rewarded. And..." here he pauses and smiles knowingly, "if you should by the favor of the Lords of Light bring us the Orb itself, I can guarantee you the favor and gratitude of our Lord High Ambassador herself."

You sip your tea, and weigh your options. A journey to Ustalav would mean shutting up shop here, for the duration of the search. The possible dangers - bandits, orcs, and who or whatever was behind the death of the Loremaster - are obvious. And while you have *some* contacts in the North, they aren't as many or reliable as your network here in Korvosa.

On the other hand, a little excitement, a change of pace, never did anyone any harm. And the possible reward... more than gold and silver, favors and debts of friendship are the measure of wealth in Korvosa. To have the Eldarin High Ambassador in YOUR debt! A pearl beyond price! Her word carries great weight, even in the High Court of the Imperial Palace itself! Even in the worst extreme, a word from her would make the difference between safe passage on an Elven sloop out of Korvosa, and bleeding out in a sewer pipe, praying for death before an otyugh comes along...

The Eldarin emissary politely sips his tea, and awaits your reply...

[Mauve Shirt]

As your father and brother start wrangling over the matter, your mother looks up and sees you standing in the foyer, and arches her eyebrow slightly...

As happens at least once a week, Cyra considers researching a "calm down and tell me what's going on" spell; actually that wouldn't be that difficult... but instead she sighs loudly and unmistakably irritably. Loud enough that it seems to get through the steam clouding around her father's ears.

Before the uneasy lull brought on by her utterance has a chance to end, Cyra approaches the table to sit near her middle brother. She doesn't let the conversation continue.

"Hey Tom, remind me to show you the classy flintlock I was working on. Andy, surprised to see you here, doesn't the Watch need you? Pete, Kendra, really?"

Sorry I'm late to supper everyone. What's going on in the Borderlands? Did something happen to Petros?"

[Unimportant]

Sorry I'm late to supper everyone. What's going on in the Borderlands? Did something happen to Petros?

"Well, sweet baby sister, so nice of you to join us! Got tired of doodling at last?"

"Andros! If you don't learn to keep a civil tongue, I'll have Skarapolos cut it out of you!" Your father turns to you after glaring balefully at Andy. "Good even, daughter. Yes, there has been ill news from the North. Andros, give your sister the letter."

Andy makes a toying gesture toward you, making to yank the letter from your grasp as you reach for it, but a sharp glance from your mother - and a quick gesture from you, in reminder of the little incident with the swords - and he hands the letter to you. It is of thick, traveling parchment, folded many times for protection of the writing inside. You open it, and read thus...


To Cyril Akropolis, Master of Arms, Proprietor of Akropoliswerks, and Veteran of the IX Legion -

From Kendra Lorrimor; daughter of Petros Lorrimor, himself Veteran of the IX Legion, Loremaster of the Empire, your Blood-Brother; and executor of said estate thereof -

Greetings!

My dearest wishes and prayers to the Lords of Light for your good health and prosperity, and that of your family.

It falls to me to be the bearer of ill tidings. Your blood-brother, my father, Petros, has died not two days ago, in an accidental fall not far from our dwellings in Ravengro. In ordering his estate, I have come across a legacy which he has entailed to you as his blood-brother and battle-comrade, and it is my duty to inform you of it that you may come and claim it. I have not examined said legacy, as he gave clear instructions in his will that it be opened only in your presence, or that of your delegated blood relative (identifiable by family seals). I humbly request therefore that you, or your designated relative, come to our estate in Ustalav forthwith and claim your right. I shall hold it in full trust until your arrival.

The Blessings of the Nine and the One be upon you!

Yours in sorrow,

KENDRA LORRIMOR

You note the letter was written almost ten days ago. Cousin Kendra must have spent a pretty penny to have it posted to Korvosa in such haste...

[Mauve Shirt]

You note the letter was written almost ten days ago. Cousin Kendra must have spent a pretty penny to have it posted to Korvosa in such haste...

"Wow. Just... Petros. Kendra, you poor thing."
Not being entirely devoid of empathy like a trio of cretins she knows, Cyra reaches to embrace her father.
"Father, I have enough set aside to cover my absence from the workshop for a while. Time appears to be of the essence. If it please you I can make the trip to Ravengro in your stead."

[Unimportant]

"Father, I have enough set aside to cover my absence from the workshop for a while. Time appears to be of the essence. If it please you I can make the trip to Ravengro in your stead."

Petros stares at you, wavering between making a counter-offer to travel to Ravengro, and staying in Korvosa for the social season. He soon breaks away from your return glare and looks down upon his now-cold lamb stew - his flag of surrender.

Tomas looks at you with just the barest hint of a smile of pride and encouragement.

Andros, on the other hand... "Oh come now, Father, you can't take her offer seriously! I can have Skarapolos provide me a leave of absence tomorrow morning, and be off to the North by lunchtime! Besides, she's only a..."

"A woman?" Your mother finishes the sentence for him, with a cold edge to her voice. "Do you need yet another reminder that she is no longer the bookish little doorstop you insist on pegging her as? Or have you forgotten what she did to Count Notaris' boorish boy?"

"HA!" Tomas' first word since you arrived, and it startles the entire table. "Indeed so, mother! When he started making advances towards her at that ball last autumn? And when he lifted his goblet to his face... KAWHOOSH!" He grins like an idiot. "It took the healers a week's work before he could start growing his beard back, and he still flinches around fire, I hear!"

"It was fortunate that the inquest could not provide any hard proof she had magicked him," your father adds tersely. "It might have gone hard on all of us. Still, the point is well made - Cyra's no slouch, and I'd trust her around Kendra at this hour of trial far sooner than any of you lot." Tomas blushes slightly, but Andros and Petros look markedly insulted and dejected simultaneously.

"Still, Cyrus," your mother adds, "I would be at better mind's ease if we could situate her with a reputable caravan north, as soon as one can be found."

"Indeed," your father replies, scratching his chin. "No need to take undue risks in the matter. For now, we will consider this settled. At first light tomorrow, I shall see about locating a north-bound caravan. Cyra, have Spiros help you pack tonight - he's been north several times, and can offer you some good advice on what you'll need and and what you won't.

"NOW, can I finally have a go at my dinner?"

[storytellerrose]

The Eldarin emissary politely sips his tea, and awaits your reply...

Alithyra tried not to let her excitement show on her face. The Eldarin High Ambassor's favor? Why, most of her families colleagues in the various merchant leagues. Alithyra nearly squirmed in her chair -- surely she could use the opportunity to springboard her Korvosan fences and thieve's ring underlings into new and exciting crime. Not that crime was ever a business not in demand, but she would be among the few to expand her reach beyond her host city.

Alithyra was never content to settle what everyone else had, after all. Not when she could have more.

Alithyra sipped her tea, considering her options. She had a few contacts here in the city that would be capable enough hands in which to leave the shop. Rebecca was inexperienced but adept. The businesswoman in her was loathe to shut up shop completely. There was no way to tell how long such a journey could take. The thieve's guild would also need minding, but that could be handled smoothly enough in her absence -- Jonathan could handle anything that came up.

The dangers of the road didn't bother her in the slightest. At the very least, she wouldn't be bored. The last duel she had fought, properly, had been too long ago. Alithyra sighed inwardly; it was her own fault for getting into management, she supposed. Of course, she always cheated in her duels. Why fight fair?

The noble-come-thief tried not to think of the last time she hadn't been bored. The Whitt estate still hadn't been fully repaired after the fire.

Alithyra set her tea down and smoothed her skirts, regarding her companion. He watched her, almost unblinkingly, for a reaction. She smiled neutrally. "I am familiar with such problems. Sometimes one cannot be seen to be seeking what needs to be sought. It's a most vexing problem, no?" She allowed herself a more ... predatory smile, just for an instant.

Alithyra sipped at her tea again. "I am willing to see to the journey personally. I have some matters here to attend to before I set way, but those shouldn't take long. Now, I shall require some supplies upfront." Alithyra resisted asking for the bare basics -- standard caravan would attract attention, but the only heir of the Whitt line couldn't be seen traveling with just a pair of saddlebags and a horse.

The price she paid.

Instead, she outlined the bare minimum of what a lady of her station could travel with. Mentally, she was already composing the letters she needed to send before she left. There would be a commotion among the court, she knew, but she was hardly sorry to see the back of the social season. With any luck, that Akropolis boy would forget she existed.

Finished, Alithyra smoothed an imaginary wrinkle out of her skirts. "I can't promise I will find the Orb, sir. However, I will promise I will learn what befell your Loremaster and continue on his work to its natural end. Do you have any ... special requests as to the fate of your Loremaster?" She smiled again, innocently and politely.

In every deal, there was always an upsell opportunity, after all.

[Unimportant]

"I can't promise I will find the Orb, sir. However, I will promise I will learn what befell your Loremaster and continue on his work to its natural end. Do you have any ... special requests as to the fate of your Loremaster?" She smiled again, innocently and politely. In every deal, there was always an upsell opportunity, after all.

The Eldarin emissary gives another of his faint smiles. "We will leave the handling of that end of the affair in your capable hands. We certainly would shed no tears if those who engineered his untimely end were to meet a similar fate themselves. But carefully, though - the shadow lies deep over the Borderlands, and one should not mistake the dagger for the hand that wields it."

He finishes his tea and places the cup on the serving table. "As to the fine details of your trip, we will leave those to you as well. We only ask that you set out by the end of the week, if at all possible. We don't want the trail to get too cold. Tomorrow, we will make an anonymous deposit to your business' line of credit at the local moneychanger's. I think you will find it sufficient to cover your journey to Ravengro. If you have any further questions, or upon your return in any event, you may contact us through Ylyndar, an Elven pearl merchant in the Temple Quarter. He will pass any messages on to me, and I will recontact you discreetly afterwards."

He rises and gives you a slight bow. "If we do not meet again before you part, may the Nine and the One light your journey, and grant you success." He then places his hood over his head and lets himself out of your shop.

[Mauve Shirt]

Cyra does not rush down to the workshop as soon as dinner is over. She maintains the solemn composure befitting a professional mage as she descends, and only hops the last three steps.
Despite the serious nature of the summons, Cyra has always been eager to visit places of which she has only read. Sure, the Borderlands were dangerous, but the most dangerous places are the most fascinating! Plus the monastery in Ravengro was rumored to have some arcane texts that would be worth a look.

Cyra is carrying one of her heavy texts when she goes to meet Spiros.
Warding, several of those. Burning is always handy. Explosive too. Light, no doubt. Can't forget the usefulness of a Sunder. Speed, maybe? Invisibility. Oh, I'll need to take so many books. And I'll need to update my cloak.

"CYRA." Spiros has to snatch the book away to break her out of her reverie.

"Oh hi Spiros. I'm taking a trip to the Borderlands. What advice do you have for me?"

[Unimportant]

"Oh hi Spiros. I'm taking a trip to the Borderlands. What advice do you have for me?"

"Other than 'Don't go'? Well, we both know what a waste of breath THAT would be." Spiros - once your father's armorbearer in the Legion, now the house seneschal - was never one for smooth words and sugar-coating. "Most of the advice I'd give a young lady heading north don't apply to you, as you've never exactly been the sort to fancy yourself up even when the occasion calls for it! But I'll reiterate it just in case you've totally changed your tune in the last 24 hours...

"Take good, warm, serviceable clothes. Don't wear any fancy jewelry or fineries in public - may as well wear as sign round your neck, saying 'ROB ME'. Keep just enough loose pennies in your purse to cover the expenses of the day - DON'T be seen in public making large change! Squirrel it about on your person and in your trunk, parcel it out to yourself at night as you need it. Keep your mouth shut except when necessary, and your eyes and ears wide open. Have a dagger about you always - and NOT that spangly gem-crusted letter opener your Mother gave you for your coming of age. Take the one Tomas made you - a good sharp sturdy blade, that one is! On the road, don't sleep alone unless you can secure the place. In an inn, sleep with your door bolted, or blocked with furniture if there's not a lock. If anyone gives you bad vibes, run if you can... and if you can't run, well, blast the wankers first and ask questions later.

"That will cover the inns and the road. Once you get to Ravengro you should be in good hands. It's been awhile since I was north, but I recall Master Petros and Mistress Kendra as good folk. She'd be about your age now, I reckon, and had a level head on her shoulders. Lords grant you get to Ravengro in one piece, she can advise you well enough there for the duration.

"One last thing. At night, no matter where you are, indoors or out... keep close to a fire. DON'T GO WANDERING OFF IN THE DARK. And don't look at me like that - I'd give the same advice to those sword-smacking brothers of yours, too. There's THINGS out there in the dark in the Borderlands. Not all of them are afraid of steel - Three Hells, some of 'em aren't even afraid of magick! But fire, now that will almost always serve you well as a defense. Stick close to the firepit, or fireplace, and NEVER LET IT GO LOW.

"Well, it wouldn't be proper for me to pack your Ladyship's personals, so I'll leave you to it. I'm sure if I were to look it over before you left, I'd find nothing to fault it with. And... may the Nine and the One go with you."

[Mauve Shirt]

Clothing. Rations. Water, rope, bedroll, torches. What was this "reputable caravan" going to even be, if Cyra had to bring all of these mundane supplies?

Only a few hours remained for her favorite part of this adventure. The advantage of what she did for a living is that the best spells came to mind quickly, if they weren't already prepared.

Cyra re-activates the protective symbols on the satchels she had packed. Thieves have always regretted touching her stuff.

She's dressed in leather instead of her usual colorful tunics. Her dark hair is pinned up as usual, a practical out-of-the-way style. Her usual bright cloak is remaining here; she is reinforcing a plain black woolen one. Sandwiched between the outer and inner lining is a layer of protective wards. Inside the cloak there are flashes of color; small removable patches of fire, light, repel and shield. Remembering the advice about light, she adds a ring to the left cuff of the cloak.
And yes, she will take books and a craft kit. No amount of sage advice about "packing light" will convince her to do otherwise.

She finds the fantastic dagger Tomas had given her, and asks Tomas if he would mind if she imbued it with bleeding and sunlight.
"Laying on the magic a little thick, don't you think Cyra? How much would you charge a customer to buy half your outfit?"
"A pretty penny, that's to be sure; But customers never regret the items they purchase from me."
"That is surely true. I don't mind if you add a spell to the dagger. My weapons can take the heartiest spellwork as you know." Tomas winks and leaves Cyra to her work.



"Lady what?"
"No! Lady Whitt!" The Akropolis Patriarch is taking too much joy in that joke; he's made it every time a family member inquires. Cyra's eyes couldn't roll any further back into her head.

"Lady Whitt, you say?" Petros responds with interest. "Why, she's the star of the young nobles! Her family business has flourished under her leadership!"
"And she's another one of Pete's crushes." Andros grins as he clears away the breakfast dishes.

Cyra shudders. "Oh no. Pete, am I going to have to apologize for the family?"

"Absolutely not! I only sent a couple letters, a few invitations..."

Cyra can now not help but dread the first introduction to this woman. "Father, do you know why she is heading north?"

"I do not, nor is it our business. Only that she is traveling with supplies and a protective force, and they are willing to escort you up to see Kendra. You might consider providing some enchantments out of gratitude."

"Perhaps." Cyra had gone to bed the previous night slightly dizzy and headachey from some of the workings, but a deal was a deal. Breakfast had made her feel better.

[Unimportant]

ADMIN NOTE: Well, it's getting close to actual Player to Player interaction here. Excellent. :smallamused:

[Mauve Shirt]

Pete is dressed gaudily and, Cyra thinks, rather ridiculously. She is glad she doesn't partake of the "social scene" and contributes to society from behind a workshop bench.

"No, Petros, you are not allowed to come with me."
Petros looks about to object, but apparently his nervousness and self doubt win over his contrariness and hopeful attitude as soon as they crest the sloping street leading from the middle-class part of town to the areas where the nobles live and socialize and politick and, Cyra assumes, backstab.

They do not approach the manors, instead stopping at a rare items shop with the Whitt family crest on the door. The building's architecture and outer decor is sophisticated but avoids the garishly fancy look Cyra associates with nobles (granted her entire impression of the noble lifestyle comes filtered through her semi-hapless brother). The Lady probably splurges on fancy food and clothing instead of prettying up her business.

She is instructed by a plain-looking man outside the shop to go through to get to the courtyard behind it, where the caravan is being prepared. Petros loiters across the street and attempts to look both busy and nonchalant. What a nerd.
Cyra can't help but survey the glass cases containing items for sale. They range from enchanted buttons (old-fashioned, of historical interest to collectors but really plainly meant for sale to those of Cyra's own income level) to dusty arcane tomes (Cyra has to keep from drooling at a thick book with what looked like an Elven dialect gracing its spine) to extremely rare and valuable magic items (Is that a real Philosopher's Stone?!)

A finely-dressed woman with dark hair waits by the wagons being packed by burly men in leather armor.
"Lady Whitt, I am Cyra Akropolis. Delighted to make your acquaintance."

[storytellerrose]

He rises and gives you a slight bow. "If we do not meet again before you part, may the Nine and the One light your journey, and grant you success." He then places his hood over his head and lets himself out of your shop.

Well, that wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no, either. Alithyra did not work for free -- and coin up front was a good guarantee that she wouldn't. When he stood to leave, she stood automatically as well and returned his bow with a polite curtsy.

The man left, and the merchant tapped her fingers on the fine china plate beneath the cup. The entire prospect was risky, but it afforded her opportunities to expand her businesses, and those she could not turn down. Maybe she would even work for free, as a gesture of good-will to her new companions.

She had much work to do, and standing around thinking about possibilities would do her no good if the work wasn't done. She bused the table from the tea and immediately found parchment and quill.

The first sheaf was simple. Her family was friends with another merchant house that dealt more in travel practicalities. She quickly outlined the most basic supplies she thought she could get away with -- she wanted to travel as light as she could. She left out several non-essential items she had named to the Eldrain man. All in all, she got her caravan down to three small wagons, and one of those she would pack personally.

The second sheaf was even simpler. She hired two of her own men from the thieve's guild, to act as personal guards.

The last two ... were harder. She tackled Jon first, and outlined the job in the barest details, which still took several paragraphs. Jon hardly needed instructions on how to run the guild itself -- he'd been her mentor when she was young. Alithyra took a little more finesse with her letter to Rebecca. The merchant glossed over the majority of the details of the trip and focused on instructions of how to run the shop day-to-day. Business would suffer without Alithyra's personal touch, but that could not be helped. It was certainly better than closing the shop completely.

Finished, she sanded the ink and called for a messenger to take the letters to their destinations. Working quickly, Alithyra closed up the shop for the evening and headed back to her estate.

Tomorrow would be a busy day.

[storytellerrose]

A finely-dressed woman with dark hair waits by the wagons being packed by burly men in leather armor.
"Lady Whitt, I am Cyra Akropolis. Delighted to make your acquaintance."

Alithyra looks up from the parchment in her hands. Jon wasn't pleased about the journey -- he'd been to the Borderlands himself and refused to talk about it -- but he let her off with a stern warning about taking good care.

She wished she was already dressed for the journey like her companions. She much preferred her own leather armor to the finery that she wore on an almost-daily basis. Today it was layers upon layers of translucent fabric to create a shimmery effect with her skirt, and a heavily embroidered bodice. She had compromised with herself and pulled her curly hair back, out of her face.

Before she could address the newcomer -- Alithyra spared her a quick glance up and down -- she turned to her men. "No! That crate goes in the last wagon!"

Turning back, Alihyra curtsied politely, in full merchant mode, and smiled wide. "Madam Akropolis, it's a pleasure. How can I be of assistance to a great wizard such as yourself?" She paused a moment and pursed her lips. "Are you related to a Petros Akropolis, by chance?"

[Mauve Shirt]

Oh excellent, here is the conversation she'd feared would happen. Lying is not in her nature, and even if it were she would not break the trust of someone with whom she hoped to travel. She turns her wince into an apologetic expression as quickly as possible.

"I wish I could say I was not. Suffice to say, he is my brother. I am very sorry for his behavior. He... has ideas beyond his station to say the very least."

Thanks, Pete. Now I'll have to offer free spellwork. If you're still outside when we leave... I'm cursing your undergarment drawer when I get back. Siblings.

"My lady, I heard through my father that you were making a journey north. My uncle died not two weeks ago at his home in Ravengro, and I have been asked to help my cousin in her time of need. I have never made such a journey before, and the idea of my going alone distresses my parents greatly. Would it be an inconvenience if I accompanied your caravan to the Borderlands? If it please you, I would offer magical protection and enchantment services in exchange."

[storytellerrose]

Oh excellent, here is the conversation she'd feared would happen. Lying is not in her nature, and even if it were she would not break the trust of someone with whom she hoped to travel. She turns her wince into an apologetic expression as quickly as possible.

"I wish I could say I was not. Suffice to say, he is my brother. I am very sorry for his behavior. He... has ideas beyond his station to say the very least."

Thanks, Pete. Now I'll have to offer free spellwork. If you're still outside when we leave... I'm cursing your undergarment drawer when I get back. Siblings.

"My lady, I heard through my father that you were making a journey north. My uncle died not two weeks ago at his home in Ravengro, and I have been asked to help my cousin in her time of need. I have never made such a journey before, and the idea of my going alone distresses my parents greatly. Would it be an inconvenience if I accompanied your caravan to the Borderlands? If it please you, I would offer magical protection and enchantment services in exchange."

Alithyra raised an eyebrow and waved a hand. "Please, your brother is hardly the only one to attempt to court me. He has ambitions, and that's hardly something I can frown upon." She smiled again, more warmly than before.

"I am making a trip north on behalf of a client, 'tis true. It won't be an easy trip, Lady Akropolis. The Borderlands are dangerous."

Alithrya considered the proposition. She'd heard young Cyra was a wizard of some accomplishment, and her skills did run toward the protective. The girl would be useful, but it would be another obstacle to obtaining the Orb. Not that the girl would have to be around for that -- she could accompany Cyra north, drop her off, and pick her up again on the way back.

"The other consideration is that I'm unsure how long my client's business will take. I can't guarantee a speedy return trip, my lady."

[Mauve Shirt]

Cyra is most relieved, hopefully not visibly.
"When we get to Ravengro it should not be a problem." The shop is protected from thieves and miscreants, and her mother could take messages and handle customer service until Cyra got back. "I am pleased to stay in the town for as long as it takes, and help in any way I can should you require it."

[storytellerrose]

Cyra is most relieved, hopefully not visibly.
"When we get to Ravengro it should not be a problem." The shop is protected from thieves and miscreants, and her mother could take messages and handle customer service until Cyra got back. "I am pleased to stay in the town for as long as it takes, and help in any way I can should you require it."


Alithyra considered the other woman's proposal. Having a companion would certainly provide her additional cover -- no one will expect her intentions in the north with another traveler. Cyra was a well-known wizard, and Alithyra had dealt with clients of hers before -- they always spoke highly of the wizard. She also knew enough to stay out of trouble, Alithyra knew. There had never been a problem with her shop from the guild ... and the guild respectively steered clear, and took care of any trespassers.

"Very well. Can you be ready by the morning? My client is anxious for me to set off as soon as possible." Alithyra considered for a moment. "The front wagon is my personal wagon, but your supplies can easily be accommodated in the other two."

[Mauve Shirt]

The following morning Cyra is loading her packs of supplies into the wagon Lady Whitt had indicated. She's pretty psyched to get going, after an evening of being annoyed at Pete, and talking to her mother and brother about minding the shop. This wouldn't be any sort of vacation, but it would be a break from the mundane.

[Unimportant]

ADMIN NOTE: Any last-minute requests/actions to be taken in the Capital? Going once... going twice... :smallwink:

[Unimportant]

On bright, chill morning, the caravan forms up. With a pack of teamsters bound for the Border Forts with supplies and new recruits for company, your party sets forth on the journey to the North.

Through one of the massive gates in the Great Wall you depart the City on the Emperor's highway. In the dawning light, the walls cast long, dark shadows over the road as you wind your way westward away from Korvosa. Past the massive moats, the slums of the Outer City spread out to either side of you, as the noise of the waking and morning rituals of their inhabitants rise like a clatter to match the horses' hooves on the cobblestones.

Once past the outskirts of the Capitol, the journey becomes one of routine. Nightly lodging in an inn or traveler's tavern (if handy) - camping in the courtyard of a wayside garrison, other nights - and rarely, in lager in a clearing near to the road. Morining roll-call by the Guard recruits, toasted bread and salt pork for breakfast, breaking of camp and mustering of the wagons, and another long day's riding beyond.

As your caravan makes its way northward to the Borderlands, the days and nights grow chiller. The inns get less and less boisterous and friendly. People huddle nearer and nearer to the fires at night. The screech of owls and chirping of night insects seem to take on a more sinister note.

One day, about a week and a half into your journey, you spy the ruins of a burnt-out lager along the roadside as you pass. You think you can make out arrows and signs of cutting on the charred remains of wagons, but nobody seems much inclined to stop and investigate.

The recruits being muttering to themselves, but their sergeants have obviously done this work before - they keep their charges busy with marches, weapons drills and encouraging stories of past victories to help boost morale, or at least give them less spare time to grumble.

On the morning of the first day of the third week of your journey, you reach a crossroads. The Border Fort contingent will be continuing north towards the nearest fort to make their first drop-off. The head teamster indicates to you that Ravengro, and the Lorrimor estate, lie along a branch road towards the east, about 5 miles. They wish you luck, and the wagons start rolling off to the north with the recruits marching in column behind them.

The wind seems especially chilly this morning.

[Unimportant]

After watching the supply train disappear past the crossroads, you turn your party east towards Ravengro. From your memory, you recall the Lorrimor estate to lie about three miles west of the village, just north of the main road.

The road itself lies empty as you make your way to your destination. You pass several small farmsteads, but there seems little sign of activity, save for a few wisps of smoke from far-off chimneys. The autumn harvest has been gathered, and now there seems a faint hint of reservation and dread in the air, as the nights grow longer and winter comes on. Winters in the North have always been a season of dread, and the weather is certainly the least of the problems that winter brings to these lands...

A small stone marker at the road with the runic designator "L" stands beside a small dirt track heading northward, through a gate in a low tumble-down stone fence. Turning your caravan that way, you find yourself surrounded by well-tended rows of nut trees and vines, now beginning to lose their leaves in the face of the chilling days. A few youths in work clothes notice your coming and run off down the lane ahead of you, no doubt to bring news of your arrival. The lane eventually ends in front of a manor house built of solid blocks of stone, with sturdy oaken shutters. A place obviously built to provide a strong defense in times of need. As your caravan rumbles to a halt in the courtyard before the main entrance, a young brownhaired woman in a long, elegant dress steps out. She looks over your party quickly and sharply, but her features soften immediately when she recognizes Cyra.

"Cousin Cyra!" she calls out, rushes to greet you, and happily kisses Cyra on both cheeks. Cousin Kendra looks a bit older for wear, Cyra thinks to herself, but not so much so considering what has happened. As Cyra and Kendra exchange family greetings and blessings, you all notice another young lady moving to stand in the open doorway just inside the house. She, too is dressed in an elegant robe as Kendra is, but she is deathly pale - nay, almost albino in tone...

ADMIN - OK, guys, I have gotten you this far. You've got to start talking to each other now... :smallcool:

[Mauve Shirt]

The fortress at Ravengro is as impressive as Cyra has been told. She marvels at the size of such a building on a soldier's pension. Then again her father has always been one of the more modest people she's met.
Well-wishes and greetings aside, Cyra is a touch curious about this strange pale person. "I've never met you before!" she addresses her after breaking her cousin's embrace. "My name is Cyra, I am a relative of Kendra and I'm very pleased to have reached Ravengro in one piece!"
She speaks and smiles cheerfully as she extends a hand to the stranger.

[Beatrix]

It takes a great deal of effort to cross the threshold toward the stranger. One learns caution after a lifetime of tricks and torments, and they so often begin with a false smile. Still, Beatrix knows that Kendra trusts this person, and she doesn't feel like the woman is planning anything. After a moment's hesitation, she swallows her fears and steps forward to take Cyra's hand.

"Well met, Cyra," she replies. "My name is Beatrix, and Kendra is my dearest friend. Thank you for making the journey."

Beatrix tries to free her hand from Cyra's grip and slip back into the shadows of the doorway, but Kendra's sharp cough reminds her that she mustn't be too abrupt.

"Please, let me help with your things. It is unwise to linger outside after dark, and I would love to get to know you better."

Beatrix gives what she thinks is a warm smile, hoping that was enough to appease social expectations - and her formidable friend.

[storytellerrose]

Ali pulls her horse up and watched the cousins greet each other. At some point in her journey she abandoned her fine gowns in favor of more travel-friendly clothes with her hair in a single braid. She hadn't yet changed into her leathers completely, however -- those remained tucked away in a sack in her wagon, along with the majority of her weapons. The thief eyes the pale woman in the doorway discreetly; attempting to observe as much as she can.

Alithyra dismounts and strides toward the group. She can't curtsy in the wide-leg trousers, so she bows instead. "My lady Kendra, I assume? I am Alithyra, your cousin's travel companion for this journey. Could you recommend an inn for myself and my men? I have some business in the area myself." Her voice was pleasant but cool.

Towards the stranger, Alithyra bows again, after Cyra's more enthusiastic greeting. "Lady Beatrix. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

[Mauve Shirt]

Cyra eyes the other 3 women, inwardly rolls her eyes and sticks her hands in her pockets. What a bunch of awkward fakers they all are. Hesitant politeness has stalled the proceedings long enough. Time to be direct.
"Thank you Beatrix. Let's indeed all go inside. I could use a seat in a real chair, and perhaps some tea and snacks." She addresses the latter towards a servant just inside the door as Kendra invites them in. Before they enter the sitting room to which they are led, Cyra speaks quietly to Kendra, "I hope you are ok, cousin. I got here as quickly as I could. We can discuss the matter for which I was invited as soon as you wish."

[Unimportant]

"Lady Alithyra, you and your companions are welcome make your stay here, for my cousin's sake. We are not used to visitors here, but it would be a dark day indeed if we were unable or unwilling to make guests at their welcome. And if I may be so bold, we could certainly be much abler to attend to your comfort here than the inns at the village. They are unused to hosting much more than wandering ruincrawlers and Vistani pedlars. Nikolas!" A white-haired manservant in livery appears from the doorway. "This is my steward, Nikolas. He will see that your horses are stabled and your entourage is fed and quartered. As for yourself, I would be honored if you would join my cousin, Beatrix, and myself for a light luncheon in the parlor."

As the wagons are unloaded and Nikolas calls for the refreshments to be prepared, Kendra pulls Cyra aside as if making to escort her arm and arm into the house. She whispers into Cyra's ear, "How openly may we speak in front of your companions?"

[Mauve Shirt]

"I barely know Lady Ali," Cyra responds in kind. "She's a very private person. I've got nothing in particular I need to hide from anyone, but if what I hear about the nobles of Korvosa is true one should probably not divulge sensitive information in their presence. At a certain income level I think they take classes in blackmail and coercion."

[storytellerrose]

Ali smiles pleasantly. Inward, she was grimacing. It was gracious of Lady Kendra, yes, but it also did not afford her the privacy that she desired. Still, it would be rude to refuse. "That would be most welcome, my lady. Thank you for your generosity." At Nikolas' appearance, she directed him toward her men. A single raised eyebrow from her earned a slight nod from her men. They knew enough to keep him out of her private things. It wouldn't do for a lady of her standing to be caught with armor and weapons .... or the thief's tools she carried with her.

One never knew when one needed to pick a lock.

Ali turns back to Kendra. "Of course I will join you, my lady." She follows the group into the parlor.

Ali studies Beatrix and Kendra as much as she can before the luncheon begins.

ADMIN: DOUG OR EMILY HOWTO ROLL PERCEPTION

[Mauve Shirt]

ADMIN: #d# with #d# being 4d6 and add your Notice.

For that matter, Cyra's gonna roll Notice on Kendra. Durrrr, someone forgot there were dice in this game.

4d6

Nevermind, someone is also having trouble with the dice roller and will get back to you on that... The theory is sound.

[Unimportant]

ADMIN: In this case, just roll a straight Notice check -> +2 to Crya, +3 to Ali (and also Beatrix if you want to get in on this action :smallamused: ). I have a target number in mind, but just to clarify, Ali, *what* are you trying to Notice?

[Beatrix]

Admin: I'm not really sure what's going on here but sure, bring it.

[storytellerrose]

ADMIN: In this case, just roll a straight Notice check -> +2 to Crya, +3 to Ali (and also Beatrix if you want to get in on this action :smallamused: ). I have a target number in mind, but just to clarify, Ali, *what* are you trying to Notice?

Admin: Ali is trying to notice what is up with both Beatrix and Kendra. Beatrix is clearly withdrawn, and it's pure noble-curiosity with Kendra. As in, Ali likes to know who she's getting into bed with, so to speak. Especially if Kendra is putting her up while she has thieving to do. Basically, there are new people around her, and Ali wants to get her bearings ASAP. If all that makes sense?

[roll0] + 3

So -,-,-, nothing gets me -3 ... which gives me a grand total of 0. Ali's tired from the journey, ok??

EDIT: Stupid diceroller not showing me the rolls then letting me edit to come up with an actual number for Doug to use.

[Unimportant]

ADMIN

Testing...
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

So there we go. Post "one"d6 four times in succession. 1-2 = "-", 3-4 = 0, 5-6 = "+".

[Mauve Shirt]

[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
- - - blank +2...
... WELL, that's a -1 notice check

[Unimportant]

ADMIN: Well, I will give you all a choice. You can spend a Fate point and get your reroll/+2, or I will give you a Fate point for flubbing it so spectacularly and simultaneously. ;-)

[Beatrix]

Admin:Still not sure what I'm supposed to be doing, but if I count as part of the 'all' even though I couldn't figure out rolling, I'd like to celebrate the flub :D