Fantasy A Tide of Flames: a d20 Dungeons & Dragons adventure

IC: Corrath
Rooftops, Brindol

Travelling along the Thieves' Highway was just the right mix of challenging and nostalgically familiar. Corrath allowed herself a good two blocks to simply enjoy the experience as she had as a child. This was where she belonged. Navigating the Thieves' Highway over the rooftops of Silverymoon had been the first thing she had truly mastered - not pickpocketing, not assassination, but this: shimmying up/down drainpipes, leaping across gaps, running along thin gangplanks as if they were as wide as the street below. This invisible route over people's heads had been the child Corrath's first taste of freedom, even before she knew what it was called.

The adult Corrath, of course, was too cynical to be nostalgic for very long. By the time Tanner's Row began to curve north towards the Tavern District, Corrath was growing bored of the game. Where to, then? She was on the Highway - it could take her anywhere in Brindol - but aside from that encounter with Cragg the last time she was here, Brindol had not truly struck her as very interesting, thus far.

(Which reminded her, she hadn't seen him since he had appeared, handed her a scatal’dreimar, and disappeared - but she supposed he would have heard by now that they had killed their spy and no longer required their services. Well, she'd wait and see if they asked to contact her. The information she'd dangled in front of Cragg had surely been of interest ... but if her suspicions were right, and they were working with Lady Kaal, they already had it. Oh, well. Different roads to the same destination.)

Speaking of roads ...

With an internal shrug, Corrath followed the Highway in the direction of the taverns. It was early yet, but perhaps she'd find some entertainment - and some news - there. From memory, they had stayed at an inn there ... or perhaps she'd try a new one?

And perhaps she'd run into a member of the Black Knives on the way. Either was fine.

Tag: Saintheart

 

Evelios D'Rtan, Ragnar Ingvarsson

The Laughing Manticore Inn, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

The mezzanine floor of the inn went to war. Curses, screaming. A chorus of that unique and dreaded noise of weapons clearing leather. Fists thudding into faces. Flows of light turning into a writhing of shadows as the oil lamps hanging from the walls were brushed in the sudden melee. The vapour of spilled beer billowed over the room.

Ragnar was already moving: there was a picture in his head that he didn't like, one of the little bard with half a dozen wounds, lying on the tavern floor. He went for Elias's hammer, the weapon's dark head gleaming in the low light of the inn, kicking over the table where he sat, spilling flagons of ale and drinkers alike. But it wasn't quick enough to stop the three or four patrons who blocked his path, shouting and screaming at him for being a traitor. So be it: if he couldn't get to the bard, the only way the little bard was going to survive was to get under the swing of Ragnar's hammer. Even with a couple of ales in him, he'd had a decent chance to look over the room, and with the assurance of the battle-hardened he knew there was no weakling between him and the door of the inn who could keep him from reaching there - once the bard was with him.
"Singer!" he shouted, even as the little men around him moved to grab hold of him.

It was the first, crucial error. Because it distracted the bard for a split-second.
A split-second that was the period of time for a thrown bottle to cross the air between the thrower's hand - and Evelios's forehead.
The bard staggered, hands going to his face. Three of his footsteps were largely unaware; he was blinded from the ale and the glass.

The fourth step was a guess, and was in the wrong direction.

His calf caught the decorative rail at the edge of the mezzanine, and with his momentum, he tumbled clean over it - and into the open space, the void, between the mezzanine floor and the stone floor twenty feet below.
He landed with a sickening thud. In the midst of a ground floor that, thanks to his pronouncement, was well aware of the accusation he was a Harper.

TAG: Ramza, Peng

OOC: Initiative checks, please, boys. We'll get to exactly how screwed you are after that. Other updates will follow by double posting and whatnot, because my work computer is a chugging piece of **** that doesn't like long updates. Evelios is down to 69/80 hitpoints.

 

Corrath Marktos

Rooftops of the Tavern District, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)
The strange part of it was how quiet it all was. One would have anticipated at least a couple of footpads wandering the rooftops given the size of Brindol. That was even given the fact that the Black Knives seemed to have the place under their control. But either the ones working the roofs were very good, or they simply weren't there at all. The Thieves' Highway was an open road right at the moment.

The roofs also gave a semi-convenient vantage point to study places where there did seem to be activity: on Brindol's walls. The western gate - the one that led into the Tavern District - looked to be the centre of a swarm of movement and construction work of some kind - there was an incessant tapping as of hammers from over there, and she could see workmen doing something vaguely construction-ish to the actual walls themselves. Some sort of brick hauling, or adding mortar to the tops, or something like that. There were also distinctly more troops on those walls than before, too - not to mention more clattering of horse hooves and uniformed tunics in the streets below, too.

Ahead of her at least was a sight she recognised - the Stone Wyvern, the inn she and the others had stayed at when they'd last been here. It was open to her to go there, or seek out a different tavern - though, again, the level of activity this time of the morning wasn't really suggesting many would be open at least in this part of the city.

TAG: Xan

 

Ariel Elandinai

Garrison Hill, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

Taliessar nodded approvingly, sliding his weapon back into its sheath. "You fight well," said the elf. "If you can do that to six of my wingriders, the hobgoblins have much to fear."

He bowed respectfully, moving to look to his men. Ariel could stay or depart as she saw fit.

TAG: Ktala

 

Evelios D'Rtan, Just as Planned, and Poe the Raven
The Bardvolution Will Not Be Televised.

<<No, seriously, this is a stupid plan.>>

"Stupid is as stupid does."

<<I'm sick of fighting a bunch of people we're trying to save.>>

"Exactly."

<<... Exactly?>>

<<What's he on about?>>

<<I dunno.>>

"I'm not going to fight back."

<<<<<<WHAT?>>>>>>

Even with like five of him suddenly in an uproar, Evelios was vaguely aware of something very hard and very glass hitting the side of his head like a slug from a 45, if there were slugs that could be fired from 45s in this universe.

<<I'm done with lying to these people to get them to like me. I'm done with fighting the people I'm trying to save. And most of all...>>

He was tumbling over the railing. Oh well, what the hell?

<<I'm done being scared of retribution. Yes, I even killed my brothers, and so many others. But I ain't marchin' anymore. Meeting dad again in that dream reminded me of something I had forgotten to keep in my sights. Something I didn't really want to lose, but had lost.>>

He hit the floor with a thud, and coughed. Something came up. Liquid. Not good.

<<Whatever it takes, a Harper will do. And if killing me will get them to wake up and see the real danger, well...

... Well.>>

He heard a voice yelling. It was his own.

"All beings should walk free of fear, with the right to live their lives as they wish. The rule of law aids peace and fosters freedom, so long as the laws are just and those who enforce them lenient and understanding. All beings should walk free of fear, with the right to live their lives as they wish. The rule of law aids peace and fosters freedom, so long as the laws are just and those who enforce them lenient and understanding. All beings should walk free of fear, with the right to live their lives as they wish! The rule of law aids peace and fosters freedom, so long as the laws are just and those who enforce them lenient and understanding! All beings should walk free of fear, with the right to live their lives as they wish! The rule of law aids peace and fosters freedom, so long as the laws are just and those who enforce them lenient and understanding!"

<<We're doomed.>>

<<Ayup.>>

TAG: Saintheart Penguinator

Post-Roll Edit: 4+2 = 6.

 

Ariel Elandinai
Garrison Hill, Brindol, Elsir Vale - Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning

Taliessar nodded as eh spoke. "You fight well," He said. "If you can do that to six of my wingriders, the hobgoblins have much to fear." Ariel nodded to the man as he bowed respectfully, and moved to look to the training of his men once more.

Ariel watched him go, before she turned and moved away. She was happy she had a chance to train with the other elves...it was much needed. But the urge to fly was still strong. Perhaps an invisibility potion? Ariel sighed softly, as she began to move back towards the trees. She decided to glide, flying just below the treetops, so that she could feel the wind touch her wings. At the moment, none from her party had called from the rings. Zanaek, she assumed was busy. Another sigh. At least it was peaceful here within the forest. She glided until she found a spot that seemed out of the way, and that she would not be a bother to others. Feeling at a loss as to what to do at the moment, she settled down quickly, and did something she had not had time to do in quite a while. Preen her wings. She opened them wide, and then quickly began to check them, taking care of those that needed removing, and checking for any type of damage or dirt. Under the wooded setting, it seemed a perfect setting. But right now, it would do, until she could take a bath, something she could most likely need, after recent events. Not like they could go back to their old hotel. Ariel chuckled softly at that thought, as she finished taking care of her wings. Once she was satisfied, she gently folded them back, as her hand touched the necklace around her throat. He would have enjoyed this battle.

Soon, she would go look for something to eat. But right now, she pulled out her horn. She examined it carefully at first, making sure that it was fine, before she leaned back, and began to play. A song from home. She played softly, letting the music flow. It had been awhile, since she had time to play, and she was going to enjoy it before their next battle. So she played, letting the music calm her, as many thoughts played through her mind. The battle to come. The new energy she felt flowing through her from the Winged Mother. Duskblades. Zanaek. Flying.

...

Ariel played until she felt her calm return. And her stomach rumble just a bit. Breakfast might be in order now.


TAG: Saintheart

 

Zanaek Grahorn

Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol, Elsir Vale​

​

The cleric looked to Skadi. He knew what they were to do, but he said nothing. He had given the reigns of this group to her some time ago and it was her decision now to decide on the course they would take. Deal with the demon or deal with the Horde. Then, of course, there was the matter of Ulwai as well. What to do with the hobgoblin?​

​

"What do we do with her? I prefer not to kill her outright. She may still have useful information concerning her other associates and it does not feel right to kill someone who has been victimized by a demon."​

​

TAG: Saintheart Livi-Wan cassie5squared Rilwen_Shadowflame

 

Sa'adi Adim

Skadi folded her arms, regarding Ulwai. Zanaek had cut to the heart of the problem with his usual lack of delicacy. Killing Ulwai was simply not an option any more.

"I made a promise, I seem to recall."

It seemed so long ago. But hadn't she made a vow, promises aside? Not to Ulwai, but herself. Vengeance is for pirates. Justice was something entirely different.

"We cannot hold Ulwai in an ordinary prison, but she must be held answerable for her crimes." she looked over at Nathys. "Is there anywhere you can keep Ulwai until such a time as I or another representative of Tyr's justice can conduct a proper trial?"

TAG: Saintheart

 

IC: Mazarun Zothyrr
Cathedral of Lathander

"Or we could just keep her with us," Mazarun pointed out. "Saves you the wondering if some bright-eyed soul convinced they're doing good will take one look at the news of what's coming, take another look at her, and jump to the messy sort of decision."

Personally, he wasn't sure what 'crimes' Ulwai might be answerable for. She hadn't done anything in the city, and that was where the laws seemed to hold most. If you did something where the laws were different, or where they didn't hold sway at all, how could it be called a crime? They'd caught Ulwai at being their enemy, technically. Was that a crime Skadi could arrange a trial for?

If so, was she also going to hold a trial for everyone else who'd ever inconvenienced them? This trials business seemed more ridiculous to Mazarun all the time - and more dangerous, too. What next? Would she make him say everything he'd ever done, and threaten to punish him for any of it that was against the rules up here? Never mind that most of it had been done in places where the rules were very different.

That was just a fact, after all. In his experience, facts never mattered very much when people got into a punishing mood.

Skadi had seemed different, until now - she hadn't even hit him once, and gods knew he'd probably annoyed her enough to want to - but how different could she really be? How different could anything really be up here? It still nagged at him, the endless wondering of when it was going to happen; wondering when he'd turn around too soon and see the harsher faces hidden under the pretty surface sentiments, before it could hide from him again.

The rarest thing of all, he'd found, was goodwill that had no dagger lurking beneath it. Maybe some of them were exceptions, up here, but surely that was only to a point. No society could really work that way. Surely.

TAG: Livi, Cathedral people

 

IC: William Marshall

"I don't think keeping her with us is a viable plan," William cut in, before anyone got annoyed at Mazarun. Somehow he felt himself responsible for balancing out the drow's opinions and making them more palatable to the others. He actually wanted Mazarun to be accepted, after all. "We don't have the resources to watch over her all the time."

He gave the Tyrran priestess a long look. "On the other hand, I see no crimes that she has committed other than being on the side of our enemy, and she has fully rejected that now she has seen where it led her." His gaze became more pointed, as though to remind Skadi that she could hardly claim to be ignorant of what that was like. "Yes, she may be a danger if set loose - her former allies could come for her and learn everything she knows about us. But she has not actually done us any harm. If anything, associating with us has harmed her more."

It could so easily have been one of them that the glabrezu took control of. So easily been one of them to suffer through everything Ulwai had - the fear of the Ghostlord's torments, the rejection of the Harpers, the demonic possession - and all she had wanted was to make her music. Pity welled up in the wizard's heart, and he crossed over to the hobgoblin, resting his hand on her shoulder gently. "She should be kept somewhere secure for her own protection as much as anyone else's. And then, once all this is done with, we can make a decision that is not biased by current events."

After a moment's silence, the wizard turned to Menechem. "And for that, I think we will need to speak to Tredora."

TAG: Livi, Saint, Cathedral party

 

Sa'adi Adim, William Marshall, Mazarun Zothyrr, Zanaek Grahorn

Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

"Hardly," said Nathys in response to William's suggestion. "Ah, the way she walked out of here looking like a thundercloud I'd suggest it would, ah, positively damage your cause to talk to her right now. As it is, the Cathedral has cells secure enough for this sort of thing. It's ... not the first time I've been in this situation, you might say. Frankly, in her condition I wouldn't recommend being anywhere else. If indeed she's abandoning the hobgoblin gods and Tiamat -- which sounds rather odd -- then she could stand worse than to have some instruction in our gods right here. Not that I'm trying to poach from Tyr or Tempus, of course," he added with the twitch of a grin. "So, yes -- feel free to leave her under my care. In this matter the Mistress of the Cathedral has left the discretion in my hands - hence her talking about her will and her word."

TAG: All

 

OOC: Sorry for the delays; DRL and all that. Rolled initiative at 1d20+2 = 15.

Ragnar Ingvarsson
The Laughing Manticore Inn, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

It would have been wrong to say that things happened fast. Things happened, but Ragnar saw it all in minute detail, his eyes flickering over the action, taking it in.

It wasn't pretty.

The situation was grim. Ragnar groaned inwardly as he hefted his hammer. They'll blame me for this one.

Below, Evelios shouted something about how he wasn't going to fight back.

That's a terrible idea.

Ragnar inhaled deep. At least he'd get a good fight out of it.

He raised his voice. Loud.

"Any man, any woman, any thing lays a hand on the bard, I take that hand. You want him, you come through me. Who's first?"

Tag: Saintheart Ramza

 

Sa'adi Adim

The Tenets of Tyr actually had a rather lengthy section on war crimes and the keeping of enemy generals, but Skadi wasn't about to go into that with William right about now. It was more about the process of justice than the punishment, and if they assumed Skadi herself had not been held fully accountable for her former life- well, then they didn't know very much about the Tyrran church, nor the details of her acceptance into the office of cleric.

And how could they? It wasn't exactly something she wished to share.

"That settles that, then." she uncrossed her arms, metal catching the light and chasing over the carvings in her armour. "Ulwai will stay here."

She gave Nathys her best Cleric Glare. "Under your protection."

The implication there was clear: She would hold Nathys personally accountable for Ulwai's condition, and gods above and below help him if the hobgoblin was harmed.

"So, where should we go now?"

TAG: Cathedral group.

 

Zanaek Grahorn

Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol, Elsir Vale​

​

"We find the others? Knowing Evelios and Ragnar, they probably have gotten themselves into trouble by now," suggested the Tormite. "I don't know where Ariel flew off to though or what trouble Corrath might be getting herself in to." He shrugged nonchalantly. He knew they all could take care of themselves but he did not like having the group separated like this when they were becoming quite the thorn in the Red Hands sides.​

​

Friendly territory or not, the Red Hand could reach them if it so chose.​

​

"Or we could find out about news from the north if our efforts paid off or not."​

​

TAG: Saintheart Livi-Wan cassie5squared Rilwen_Shadowflame

 

OOC: Okay, I think it's time we moved things along a bit...

Sa'adi Adim, William Marshall, Mazarun Zothyrr, Zanaek Grahorn

Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

The knock on the door wasn't really a request to enter, given the speed with which the wooden door swung aside to admit the halfling. Devin Barrowill, Tredora Goldenbrow's assistant, was still dressed in the white shift with embroidered gold edges, none of which served to disguise his chewing of his lip and the hand raised there vainly attempting to conceal it.
"My pardons, Saer Outcaster," the halfling said. His speech was as rapid as his movement. Barrowill scuttled across the room to murmur something into Nathys's ear. A long something. Something that was clearly read on the exorcist's face: surprise, and wariness.
"Does the Lady know of this?" asked Nathys.
"No, Outcaster. She departed shortly after you arrived here. She -- has business, at the Keep."
"I see. Are they under our roof?"
"No, Outcaster. The Brothers are holding the door, but the captain is quite impatient. A crowd is sure to gather."
"Very well." Menechem straightened, hands back on hips, looking at the party. "It would seem word travels quickly."
"There is a troop of Lions of Brindol," said Barrowill to the four companions, and the halfling's voice betrayed his concern. "They're the city's guard -- at the cathedral doors, requesting you go with them. They are asking for you."
"For them, or the hobgoblin?" asked Menechem.
"They don't seem to know about her," replied the halfling. "They described a party of eight - including you four, down to very good descriptions. I don't think they realise that your whole company is not here."
"One small mercy, at least," sighed the Outcaster. "I don't know if I could keep them out if they knew that much."
Barrowill, it seemed, was a decent enough reader of faces: he could see the incomprehension on those of the Company. "Lord Jarmaath's declared Casus Belli - cause for war. As the Castellan of Brindol Keep, he takes on fairly extensive powers for the defence of the city when that cause is invoked. Normally the Cathedral's sanctuary to all within her walls, and the sole jurisdiction of the Lady Goldenbrow, but Casus Belli arguably changes that."
"He means we may not be able to keep them out of here should you choose to take refuge here," said Menechem, ruefully.
"I mean we dare not," said Devin bluntly. "The last thing the city, the Lord or the Lady need is an incident between the Keep and the Cathedral - not with Tanner's Quarter a keg of flashpowder and him trying to stay one step ahead of that Hells-damned Lady of Mithral and her scheming." The halfling eyed the companions. "I don't think the guardsmen are necessarily here to arrest anyone. They've more the look of an escort than lawkeepers. But they were rather insistent, regardless."

TAG: Livi, Cassie, Rilwen, Mitth

---

Ragnar Ingvarsson, Evelios D'Rtan

The Laughing Manticore Inn, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

"I would be," a voice came out of the air in response to Ragnar's question. A raised voice, thin like a rapier, hard like a rock. A voice that, as it echoed through the room, brought the noise of brawling to a halt as surely as if someone had thrown water on a fire. The sudden silence - the stop to the fighting - was terrifying. And to make matters even worse, the silence didn't last. It was replaced by the clock of bootheels on the wooden ground floor, echoing through the room.

A shaft of light cast the dawn's pallor across the common room as the inn's front door swung open and he walked in. Thin like a rapier; hard like a rock. As the voice was, so was the man: a human of indeterminate age, somewhere in that twilight place between twenty-five and forty. Clean-shaven. Moved like a dancer. Clad in green, unsigiled tunic and brown leggings. Small sparks of silver jewellery on his folded hands, and no weapon immediately in evidence.



The new arrival moved into the common room; did not have to push his way through to the space of floor where Evelios lay flat on his back.
"So," he said.
The room as one flinched.
He took a second to savour that; then turned back to the bard, speaking in the mild tone of someone who has to deal with a bottle of spilled milk. "What have we here?"

TAG: Ramza, Peng

 

IC: Mazarun Zothyrr
Cathedral of Lathander

Mazarun's first instinct was to flinch - almost. His first thought was to find a way out, to flee before he could be taken. He just sighed, instead. "We have vexed your Lady Goldenbrow enough already without dragging her Cathedral into this, I think," he said slowly, glancing at the others. "If you do but keep her safely here -" he nodded toward Ulwai "- we will return, if it becomes even a little possible. There are still questions we may need answered."

What with one thing and another, they'd never really got the chance to question Ulwai properly. A demon was, generally, somewhat of an interruption in even the most well-intentioned of plans. If they were able to come back and ask her... well, at least by this point, with that sudden conversion, Ulwai would hopefully be feeling more inclined to be truthful. It would be in her own best interests to help them; if they lost, about the best-case scenario was her being dragged back to the Horde to face whatever punishment it might deal out to those who let themselves not only be captured, but lose control of an asset like the Ghostlord.

And she'd been through enough already. Surely she'd want no more of it. Thinking on what, exactly, Ulwai had so recently suffered made Mazarun shake his head, and then look the hobgoblin bard full in the face. "...You'll be safer here. Safe enough to rest and... rebuild. The home in your mind of who you are - it was opened, exposed, but you're still here. The mind-shelter... it comes back. Rebuilds. With time." He looked away again, as though embarrassed by his own impulse to give that advice.

But he knew it, in his own way, and perhaps it was right to make sure she knew it too? To feel so vulnerable, so weakened... to have been helpless in the face of another's malice, and all refuge stripped away... There were some things it was hard to bear, and hard to find a way back from.

Maybe this would help.

The drow coughed, set his jaw, and looked at the others. "Are we going, then?" he asked, tersely, as though trying to convey the impression any comment he'd just made to Ulwai existed strictly in the imagination of those around him.

TAG: Cathedral people

 

IC: William Marshall

"I don't see any point in waiting around and increasing the chance of hostilities," William agreed, going along with Mazarun's unspoken request. "If the Lions want to see us, we may as well go along and find out what they want."

He stepped away from Ulwai and crossed over to the door, glancing back at the others, though not without a twinge of uncertainty; he hadn't forgotten the last run-in with the guards of Brindol, after all. Though maybe the absence of Evelios might hopefully avert a second disaster.

TAG: Everyone who's there

 

Zanaek Grahorn

Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol, Elsir Vale​

​

"Agreed. Hopefully they are here to simply bring us to Lord Jarmaath," Zanaek said, recalling how they have tried to get an audience with the man since they had first set foot in Brindol and every time had been turned away. "Still, we should be on our guard. It would not be the first time for a city to hand over people whom they may think started something to end it by sacrificing them to the enemy as a peace offering."​

​

And if that happened he, and he was certain Skadi, would not allow it without a fight.​

​

"And we should be cautious in what we say as well, simply to avoid having such an egregious conclusion drawn by him."​

​

TAG: Saintheart Livi-Wan Rilwen_Shadowflame cassie5squared

 

Evelios D'Rtan, Turtle Impersonator Extraordinaire, and Poe the Raven
It's me, Mo-Dean

<<Okay, I think I've managed to gain control of the head.>>

<<Alright - commence reboot procedure.>>

<<Wait, why are we rebooting?>>

<<Rapidly changing external stimuli. Plus we've been on for like seven mo->>

<<FIVE MONTHS AND A WEEK!>>

<<I remind you that it's only been about ten seconds.>>

<<Quiet, Poe! Anyway, nothing like a good old fashioned reset to clean up the funk. Maybe kill this messiah complex.>>

<<I keep telling you I'm not the messiah!>>

<<Only the Messiah would say that! HE IS THE ONE!>>

<<Anyway, yeah, restarting... now.>>



<<We really need to switch to Ubuntu.>>

<<What does that even mean?>>

<<Quiet, Poe!>>

"Oh, you know," Evelios replied, glancing up at the newcomer. "I hit the bottle a bit too hard and decided to do an impromptu impression of a tortoise."

<<Did we seriously just make a pun about getting smacked in the head with a bottle?>>

<<Milil's magnificent mandolin minuet! This reboot has reengaged the snark protocol!>>

<<We didn't hard save that change, did we?>>

<<No. No we did not.>>

<<Bugger.>>

"I find it's a normal consequence of such rowdy escapades. Well, that or the various patrons here don't take kindly to my dress. They seem to respect yours - is pink out of season? Is that it? The green is what I need? Or maybe tweed? Mo-dean? Serene?"

TAG: Saintheart Penguinator

 

Ragnar Ingvarsson, Evelios D'Rtan

The Laughing Manticore Inn, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

The man smiled.
He looked positively overjoyed.
He had the look of a boy holding an expensive toy boat about to launch it into waters over which clouds the colour of slate were rolling.
"So this is the one all my little mice have been talking about," he said. He didn't speak to anyone in particular, but judging by the tomb silence, he was the sort that was listened to very carefully whether one had a conversation with him or not. "A Harper agent, they tell me. Walking not only into Brindol, of all places, but right into my very establishment. Well. The Harper part I don't give any great credence to, I must say, but I suppose I have now corroboration for the stories of him being utterly mad."
A gale of laughter from the room followed this. Again, the sort of laughter one expected to follow this man's jokes, no matter how devoid of humour they actually were.

TAG: Ramza, Peng

---

Sa'adi Adim, William Marshall, Mazarun Zothyrr, Zanaek Grahorn

Cathedral of Lathander, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

"Whatever Lord Jarmaath wants you for, I doubt it's arbitrary imprisonment. Were it a troop of Lady Kaal's requesting your presence, perhaps, or even probably - but not him." Barrowill glanced at Skadi. "He's no Lord of the Balance, of course, but what I've heard of his judgments always struck me as pragmatic if not fair. The people respect him as well. Of course, anyone would be an improvement on Lord Baregan, but even so -- any lord who chooses to make Brindol Keep his home is one to be watched. In a good way."
"Why so?" Nathys frowned.
"Because most of his predecessors chose to live in the Noble Quarter. Flagrantly against the prescription of the City Ordinances."
Nathys shook his head. "The City Ordinances date back to when Brindol was still the outpost of the drowned kings."
"I wasn't always a cleric of Lathander, Outcaster," said Barrowill, and there was a hint of steel both surprising and unsurprising from the halfling. A little of the grey hairs on his fuzzy hairs glittered. "I respect a lord who prefers a castle to a mansion as his home. Knowing the lords I have, it tells you his priorities - priorities which are very welcome ones given all the rumours flying around the city right now."
"We waste time," said Nathys, turning back to the party. "If you wish, I'll have you taken to the doors of the cathedral now."

TAG: Livi, Cassie, Rilwen, Mitth

 

Sa'adi Adim
Cathedral of Lathander

Well. this was an interesting development. Too often lately Skadi had acted hastily, so she allowed the others to talk, listening in silence to their reactions to the news. If this truly was an escort to Lord Jarmaath- well, that was what they had wanted all along, wasn't it? Was it really such a short time ago that Skadi had gone to the keep herself to request an audience? It felt more like years.

Gods, but some days Skadi felt old.

Shrugging off that melancholy thought, the cleric straightened her shoulders, drawing herself up to her full height.

"We have done nothing wrong, and so nothing to fear." The tone of her voice made it very clear that any assertions to the contrary would be ill-recieved. "Take us to the doors. We shall see what these guards want."

A terrible thought struck her. "Of course, if they're here about Evelios, I advise you all to deny everything."

Alright, so the humour was perhaps a touch out of place, but needed, she thought. It would take more than a troop of guards to intimidate Sa'adi Amat-Tyr al-Adim, after all.

TAG: all

 

Evelios D'Rtan is Rebelling Against Whatever You Got, and Poe the Raven
There's a Ringo quote for this.

"Man, that's impressive," Evelios noted, taking the monologue opportunity to get to his feet. "Normally when I say something unfunny nobody laughs. Damn impressive. Is it possible to learn this sorcery?"

He brushed away the remnants of alcohol that were still on his face, and looked at the man. "So, what, you're some kind of crime boss? Because in my experience the only sort of folks who get people to laugh on cue and simultaneously own bars while talking in vaguely sinister tones and referencing spies? Crime bosses. You really ought to tone it down. I half expect you to don a cloak and start cackling about how a man is a miserable little pile of secrets and the same could be said of all religions."

<<Right, so, I'm just going to stay up here on the rafters while you just court disaster, if that's alright.>>

<<Suit yourself, Poe, you want to live forever?>>

"And while we're on the subject of crime and costume, silver is so last season."

TAG: Saintheart Penguinator

 

Ragnar Ingvarsson, Evelios D'Rtan

The Laughing Manticore Inn, Brindol, Elsir Vale
Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning
Year of Scattered Lanterns (1378 DR)

The man threw his head back, laughter echoing through the suddenly silent room once more.

When he turned to Evelios again, tears were streaming down his face. "I swear, in all the years I've been here, I've never met a man with as much courage as you - or as little courage to match little sense. Do you know something? I like you, my good fellow. I don't often find people I like in this job."

He folded his arms, wiping tears away from his eyes. "So I'm going to tell you something I'm sure you'll find interesting: right now, there's a fifteen-strong troop of Lions of Brindol headed toward the Cathedral of Lathander, where I'm given to understand a number of your friends are. Now, I'd only be guessing about this, but I'd say they're most likely headed to arrest the lot of them and drag them off to the dungeon underneath Brindol Keep. I've had, shall we say, some rather reliable tales of the place. Not very pleasant places to be. And the local lord around here, Kerden Jarmaath, isn't much for the way of lengthy discussion. So it might well be a very good idea for you and your northman friend up there on the mezzanine to, perhaps, take your speeches and jokes elsewhere. I'm sure your friends probably need you a lot more than your singing's really wanted hereabouts."

TAG: Ramza, Peng

 

Ariel Elandinai
Garrison Hill, Brindol, Elsir Vale - Eight bells, Twenty-third of Mirtul, morning

Ariel played for a good while, underneath the wonderful woodland setting. Not quite as beautiful as home, but they did hold a quality that she could understand and feel. Another soft rumbling of her stomach, and she decided that perhaps breakfast was next on the agenda. As she flexed her wings, she looked around. Too bad there was no lake or river...a quick dip would have been nice...

Ariel glanced at her hand. Nothing from her companions. It had been awhile since she had this much free time. Too bad it was in a city that was not quite the friendliest. Then again, with a horde breathing down your neck, she doubted they could really afford to be too friendly. With a soft sigh, she stood, checking her adjustments to her sword. So it looked as if she might be able to enjoy a bit of breakfast. With the city so tightened down, she imagined not many of the vendors from earlier might be open. So she would let her nose carry her. She decided to stay away from the major area, where they had gotten into trouble earlier. She remembered some things from the map she had seen earlier. There had been other inns and perhaps a quieter place to eat. She only wanted something simple, so there should not be much harm in that. No taverns. If she found a quiet vendor selling something simple, she would go with that also.

Ariel picked up her cloak, and placed it around her shoulders, as she activated her hat to hide her wings once more. She had SERIOUSLY considered not doing so...
but....

Walking around alone, in a nervous city, a being with wings suddenly appearing out and about might NOT be taken someone friendly. She would decloak herself soon enough. She would have to, if she was planning to fly and fight, and not become a pin cushion anyways. But, why stir up something, when she was simply looking for breakfast?

She took her time, lingering in the forest before venturing out. She had enjoyed her practice, and small flight immensely, but now it was time to take care of maters, and then find out what the others had learned, if anything.

TAG: ?

 

Evelios D'Rtan, Bard Extraordinaire, and Poe the Raven
All dressed up with nowhere to go, walking with a dead man.

"Ah, straight into implications that my friends will be in danger unless I vamoose," Evelios replied, scratching his beard. "You know what, maybe my initial assessment was wrong - I respect that. You've danced this dance before. Tangoed this waltz. Foxtrotted this salsa. Balsa. Malta. Sri Lanka."

<<TO ME MY RAVEN!>>

<<... What?>>

<<Don't I... don't I usually do that to call you?>>

<<No we don't.>>

<<Nope.>>

<<Negative.>>

<<... I see... well just... just get on my shoulder, then, you feathered fop.>>

Poe flapped down from the rafters and landed himself on the bard's shoulder. <<Don't call me a feathered fop, you bardic buffoon.>>

<<There's a good bird.>>

"I think I'll take you up on that offer, now that I seem to have gotten that suicidal kick out of our head. Er... my head. The head." He made a gesture of minor deference. "You realize, of course, I fully expect our essentially inevitable reunion to be somewhat acerbic? There are certain forms of plot development we're expected to follow in this sort of situation."

He paused for a moment. "Oh, and, uh, I guess I'm sort of assuming these various patrons of yours are actually going to let my large companion and I proceed unmolested, if that's alright. I mean," he pointed both hands at himself, "I'm certainly not a threat to much of anyone in this position, but have you seen the size of his hammer? That's going to cause some expensive and probably painful damage if an altercation should ensue. Would you say that's a fair assumption?"

TAG: Saintheart Penguinator