Powder and Gold (IC)

[Nostromo]

Spoiler: Egeman

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Love.

That’s what Splendor’s song meant for so long. Love, eternal, as strong as the Verdant Throne itself.

The emerald green of the dense canopy, shining down into the flat, damp grass, making each blade iridescent, playing off the arch of the harps, the strings of the lute, and of course, dear Ieva’s eyes. She always looked into the sky before she began to sing—almost as if she was asking Calistria herself to whisper the words to her. Her friends and mine were everywhere, sitting on every bough, lying on every inch of grass, listening to every note. And when she sang, it wasn’t hard to see why.

When she sang, you heard the words of the song, but more clearly, you heard in the vault of your soul:

I understand you. I will never judge you. I am yours, and you are mine. I love you.

By then, its too late. The brutes are there, and swift as our bow’s song is, they still open her throat. A storm of arrows anchor him to the ground, but it’s a moment too late. Her blood is hot, staining the grass crimson—it won’t stop. You press against her neck, reassuring her, but she mouths the words:

“I loved you. Why didn’t you protect me?”

“Oi, Galzael!” Shouts the voice of the familiar Dwarf from Auriga. “Y’missing a Tylish sunrise! Bes’ damn sunrise in the world. I’s seen ‘er rise in Helvetica, Iobban, Mzchalam, e’en Vedic! But damn, nothing like the sun breaking o’er Tylish trees. Bes’ part of working in Wyrmtalon. Jus’ magic, t’is.”

You’ve seen a Tylish sunrise. Beautiful, no doubt. But your eyes, now jilted from meditative trance, train on the procession of carriages ahead of you. Nearly a dozen, with nearly as many departing. Curious.

Spoiler: Lilith

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Shapes and shadows swirling around you, watching, staring, probing for weakness. They gain speed, moving from a walk, to a run, until they seem to fly and swirl around you in a torrent of shadow until—
A jolt and thud bounces you on the black, cushioned seat inside the carriage, rudely rousing you from the sleep you had just begun to enjoy.

“Sorry!” Calls the loosely-familiar voice of Palagad, the halfling driver. “You’d think they’d make sure the roads are even right outside the city, but if there’s one thing the Kocata eats, its cobbles. And children, haha!” He calls down to you.

The morning light is just starting to break through the slats of the windows, and just ahead you can make out the Wyrmtalon wall, as well as the tips of some of the more prominent structures. From the seat opposite from you, Jeb rolls his broad shoulder and yawns, stretching out his arms wide, only to be met with the solid walls of the cabin. He sighs and cracks his neck. His garb has changed since your midnight encounter: a woven poncho of obvious quality—black, white, and bright green patterns play across it. A curious pistol hangs at his side with a mechanism you’ve never seen before. No flint, nor striker, but what looks like a cylinder, with a spur pointing from the back. The handle is pale, polished wood with a circular silver stamp facing outwards, depicting a grinning, horned lizard.

“Er, you still asleep? Unconscious? …Dead, haha?” He says with a little unease, as though the last two options were just as possible as the first.

“Shut up and drive, Pal.” Jeb groans, attempting another yawn—equally unsuccessful.

Spoiler: Nathaniel

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A haunting smile that seems to speak from a thousand other memories, bright green eyes, lit by the flash of powder, the scent of gunsmoke wafting away. And her voice, smoother than glass on satin:

I should have let you burn. My brother was worth ten of you.

Fire—dancing on your skin, melting and bubbling your flesh like searing, red wax until pale bones show through. Her face, terrible and wondrous—pointing an all-too-familiar piece in your face.

The BANG rouses you from slumber, but, as per usual, you slip away just before she pulls the trigger.

“Frak!” Swears the driver. “Why’s the corp’ never pay to fix this goddamn road.” She grumbles, hoping a spoke in the wheel didn’t give over the familiar lurching point, just outside of town. It’s a busy morning, and through the windows, soft hues of brass, peach, and lilac intrude into the carriage cabin. You can just see the tip of the talon, glittering slivers of iridescent light like a beacon.

“Uh, sorry mister,” she realizes, remembering she has human cargo, too. “Y’okay in there?”

Spoiler: Bobcat & Balovin

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The snarl of tusked beasts, echoing against the cold, jagged mountains—lit by the full moon, shining red, bearing witness to the slaughter. Shrill screams crying out from the darkness—the words a mystery, but the familiar tone of begging clear before being cut sickeningly short by a wet slice.

The head of a dwarf girl-child rolling down the crags of the mountain and landing at your feet— brown eyes still wet with tears, lips struggling to form last words that will never come. And the drums. Always the drums. Hammering at your mind, making your teeth chatter and your heart race until you shut your eyes, trying to drive away the madness—but the drums grow louder and you want to scream, but opening your eyes again always puts the double-axe in your hand, and a headless girl at your feet.

Lurching so suddenly from the dream after the pothole bottoms out one of the carriage, Bobcat slams her head off the low-ceiling of the carriage. A voice, familiar, calls down from outside.

“Y’wake down there? Nice morning out there guys. Told you riding through the night was the right idea.” Says Mallory Ney-Foch, your BAM contact.

He’s right. Through the open carriage windows, you can just spot the ramparts of the Wyrmtalon walls and gate, but the cannons and their crews look like their moving. Probably shift change.

And, as per usual, Balovin is sleeping soundly—head cocked at a ridiculous angle into the interior corner of the carriage, in spite of the sudden jolt from below.

[Archemist]

Bobcat shakes her head to clear it. She's pretty used to the bad dreams by now, but the intensity of this one is rarer recently.

She remembers she had been asked a question, and not by a headless girl. Bobcat's orcish side irritably suggests that if Mallory is this bad a driver, that head situation could be remedied. Bobcat grimaces and takes a second to remind herself that making threats this early in the morning is poor judgment. She changes her words, but the irritation leaks through.

"Disagreement on all points. I should have driven." She looks over enviously at the slumbering Balovin. "And only one of us is awake. I'll let you guess which. Nothing important to relate?"

[brandnewb]

Balovin continues to snore softly. The whiskers from his well tailored beard raising and lowering with each breath. His things are set neatly beside him, and his loyal hound lays on the ground by Balovin's feet.

When the cart jumps Balovin continues to sleep. The dog however wakes with a start and stares at Bobcat.

Spoiler: OOC

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I will included a guard dog in my starting items. It will become my animal companion next level.

[RandomWombat]

With a start, Egeman adjusts his position squatting in the back of the wagon and reaches instinctively for his bow. It is immediately clear, however, that there is no threat. Exhaling sharply out of his nose, he scratches at his eye - mainly to disguise rubbing away some tears that had pooled behind the lids. The dwarf was talking again; Egeman listened for anything important, but it was mostly background noise. What was the dwarf's name again? Urist? Glarth? He wasn't sure, so he didn't use it. Still, it would be best not to offend this dwarf right now.

Egeman moves over to where his recruiter is watching the sunrise and looks out at it, making at least a token effort at conversation, "Back in the Yal, one had to climb above the treetops to watch the sun rise. I rarely found time for such small pleasures."

[Aeryk]

Lily blinks away the after-images of the dream, then looks at Palagad with the confusion of the just awakened, and failing to laugh at the joke. She turns to look at the structures of Wyrmtalon. She had been planning to make her way here eventually, and she took the sight in with interest. Turning back to Jeb at the sound of his cracking neck, she admired the quality of his clothing, eyes lingering a moment too long at the pistol. "Ah'm fine, thank you evah so much drivah. Please excuse mah crude companion." She says with a hint of irritation in her voice, though she smiles lightly as she says it. "So where are we to, Mister Miller, if you don't mind me askin'? You haven't really told me much about this job offer you so kindly made."

[H. Von Studley]

Nate wakes with a start, his pistol already in his hand. He glances wildly around the carriage in confusion, trying to get his bearings. After a moment, he realises himself and shakily returns the weapon to its holster.

"Yeah." His voice is croakey and strained. He coughs and tries again. "Yeah."

Nate turns away and stares out the window, composing himself. He reaches into his bag and takes out his hip flask, taking a long pull of the whiskey inside. He leans back in his seat as his heart rate slowly drops back to normal.

It's been years since I dreamt of her. Why now?

[Nostromo]

Spoiler: Egemen

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“Hah! Y’r alright, Galzael,” begins Uferth—that was his name. “Truth now: I think you migh’ be the first full-blooded Elf I’s e’er seen in these parts, and I’ve been with the Corp now for, augh. Since Elise took the reins? See plenny of halfers here though. Orc, Elf. Folk jus’ trying t’survive, same as us. Anyroad, I’ll run ye through the routine.” He says to Egemen as he casually manipulates the reins with a single hand, peering about at the locals now beginning to mass at the edges of the thoroughfare, waving at a few familiar faces.

“So. I’ll deliver you up ther’.” He says, pointing so Egemen can see his finger.

He didn’t need to point—Corporate headquarters can be seen almost as soon as you enter the city gates. Placed atop a granite plateau, overlooking the entire city, the building itself is an imposing icon—higher than everything else in the city, physically and financially. The smooth, black rock is matte, the sides sloping upwards aggressively to give the false-impression of a third mountain beside the first two, but instead of being capped with snow, the precipice of the Headquarters is topped with a large flag: white topping black, split longways, with a green, spiked basilisk sprawled in a circle. There is something almost mesmerizing about the pattern. It is billowing strongly in the breeze, the sunrise giving way to stark blue skies.

Once he’s sure Egemen sees the landmark, he continues. “from there, Whitewood’ll collect ye and all the other hires inta the Atrium. Y’ll sign the papers, he’ll say ‘Hope you like bein’ rich,’ and they’ll start processin’ and trainin’ you. Once yer done there, they’ll give you assignments and kick off. G’ven yer background, I wouldn’t be surprised if they assign you the Valiant or the Fury. BAM ships could probably get a fair discount in Fayunoth if a true Elf was making the deals, no?”

Spoiler: Lilith

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Palagad smiles and waves at Lily, knowing better than to arouse Jeb’s anger this early in the morning and attentively watches the reins as the carriage slips through the gate. Lily can faintly hear him whistling and tapping his foot along in what sounds like a halfling travel ditty.

Still struggling to stretch himself out to his level of satisfaction, Jeb continues to try and contort himself in the carriage. Pops and cracks from joints Lily didn’t even know could elicit them bombard her as he makes slow progress addressing her question.

“We’re headed—up to Headquarters,” he explains, twisting himself at the hips. “They’ve got all the paperwork up there. I’d explain more if I knew that half of it wouldn’t be wrong when they read you the legal papers, but I’ll give you the short version:” He says, netting his fingers and leaning back into the cushion of the carriage.

“You, will be an employee of the Basilisk Armaments and Munitions Corporation, in the capacity of—assuming you get through the training without shooting ol’ Whitewood in the head—a Road Agent.” She can practically hear him capitalize the words. “Road Agents are, well—“ He says, licking his teeth, trying to find the best definition. “Road agents are problem solvers. Sometimes the Corp wants to get folks to do things they may otherwise be a might adverse to doing. Road Agents do that. Sometimes the Corp sends an Alchemist to some backwater corner of the world, looking for a new source of saltpeter or something—Road agents make sure that Alchemist doesn’t get eaten by the locals. Sometimes the Corp just wants an eye kept on the cities and towns. Road agents build an intelligence network, make reports, look for talent. Opportunity. Coin.”

Once Jeb finishes speaking, you see his nose flicker and watch him relax. There’s a delicious medley of smells in the air: cinnamon and sugar, grease and salt, anise and toffee. All mixed into one.

Spoiler: Nathaniel

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“ ‘bout fifteen minutes out now, sah.” The driver advises, proceeding at the speed of corporate business. It’s been a while since Nate has been in Wyrmtalon, and there’s a great deal that’s familiar here, even now. The thoroughfare businesses, those that managed to ride on BAM’s coattails as it achieved its meteoric ascent to being the most successful guild in living memory.

A few of the shops are familiar—it’s a wonder that they stay in business. Strangler Pete’s, still has that crappy sign with last t fading out. Nate can’t help but wonder if Pete Vecchio was still alive. If he was, that would make him one of the oldest tavern/bareknuckle boxing ring promoters in Tylith. His moustache must be older than Wyrmtalon, at this point.

“Jus’ so you’s aware sah, your third-party, Mister Lorentz, order you be delivered to Corporate he’dquarters, no stops. Once you’s there, d’rector Whitewood’s probably gonna call y’all in and give you the lowdown.” The driver chimes in again. “Free advice? You lis’sen to that man. He may be a mean sonnuvabitch, but tha’ man didn’t become d’rector of Field Ops in BAM without knowing how to turn mercs inta agents.” He says, and then is silent. Nate gets the impression that this driver’s been on the payroll for a while.

A twinkle of gold crops up at the corner of Nate’s eye. Looking ahead, he sees a large, wooden building just off the main thoroughfare, and on top is a giant golden goblin statue—comically oversized head with tiny pointed teeth, slinging a sack over its shoulder, grinning maniacally. The sign below it reads:

The Golden Goblin Gambling Hall

Spoiler: Bobcat & Balovin

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“Traffic—,” he says with a heavy sigh, standing up on the driver’s platform of the carriage. “Looks like HQ assigned the same times for all the new hires, again. It gets this busy every couple months or so.” He explains, and you hear him sit back down and advance the carriage at a slow, leisurely canter.

A brief but impermeable shadow washes over the carriage windows as Bobcat and Balovin’s carriage traverse the gate. Another bump at Balovin’s corner sends him from leaning into the carriage wall, to tottering headfirst into Bobcat’s lap. His gentle snores are interrupted, and he groggily begins to come to.

It’s hard to believe that Mal is this bad as a driver, until Bobcat remember that driver isn’t exactly his job title. She could offer to take the reins, and it might even put her in a better position to view the city—what little there is to be viewed at this point. Although she has noticed a decidedly-better improvement in road quality. Looking out of the windows, it’s no wonder: the main thoroughfare of the town is paved with flat, graded rock. Looking left and right, she can see the occasional early-riser going about their business, generally keeping out of the thoroughfare, though a number of them are simply leaning back on the nicer buildings adjacent to it—smoking and watching the carriages pass. A couple wave to Mallory.

And there’s a familiar sight! The golden key of Abadar emblazoned on the façade of a stately stone building. Right next to... To a sign, enchanted to move a wooden bottle towards a wooden smiling visage, pouring the bottle into the smiling mouth, back and forth, over and over. The printing reads:

Dale Astorian’s Liquor Emporium.

Great. It’s going to be one of those kinds of towns.

[Aeryk]

Lily takes note of the 'shooting him in the head' comment, deciding she'll want to be careful with this Whitewood.

"Coin sounds just fine to me," she replies, then draws deeply of the city's aromas. "Are you a Road Agent?"

[H. Von Studley]

Slowly recovering from the dream, Nate tucks the flask away and turns to focus on the sights outside. He smiles in spite of himself. He'd been kicked out of most of them before.

Nate looks up as the driver speaks. "Yeah, I know the type. Long as he's decent, I'll behave. Now what's this 'training' gonna entail exactly?"

A thought occurs, and he leans forward. "Lorentz said he was gonna have a runner bring my horse up behind us. Any idea when he's gonna get here?"

[brandnewb]

"Bloody, blighting oath. I've known wee kids th' drove better 'an this fool. An' on a bloody road." Balovin curses loudly. He puts his armor on and and grabs his hammer. "Hol' on you, I be drivin now. Wada they pay you for?"

Balovin will forces his way up onto the drivers bench. His guard dog jumps out and begins plodding along beside the vehicle.

[RandomWombat]

"Of course, of course," Egeman looks out at the town and the countryside beyond. "The outside world is very open, exposed. Our kind prefer the shade of the canopy above." The corporate headquarters draws his attention. An impressive structure, like a palace - or a fortress - all its own. Perhaps Madthel was right about this organization rivaling kings and countries.

"The stark emptiness of the open sea is even more off-putting," his usual stern expression deepens into a frown as he recalls the trip across the Divide to get here. The idea of repeating it not just once, but many times over... "But the job is the job. If I am required to, I will adapt."

[Archemist]

"We're almost there, Pops. No need for a fuss." Bobcat calls after Balovin somewhat apathetically, knowing there's not much she can do to stop him.

[Nostromo]

Spoiler: Egemen

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“Off-puttin? Downright terrifying if y’ask me!” Uferth exclaims, holding up two fingers. “Two blas’sed things I don’ trust worth a damn: Ships--,” he says for one, and pointing with the remaining finger, he identifies a tall, slender black stone building just off the main thoroughfare, purple fire flickering brightly, flanking a door that has the appearance of a starry night. A sign above it reads, in ornate script:

Cabbala’s

Uferth’s finger waggles. “—and goddamn sorcerers. ‘taint natural, it aint.” He says, taking the sure up the granite tunnel. The statues are exquisite—carved from the same black rock that the city seems so fond of using. At least, Egemen imagines they are carved, though the fluidity of the motion of the statue is a little disquieting, along with the flickering torchlight playing off their visages.

Daylight. If Egemen was impressed with the headquarters at a distance, he can get a true sense of scale here, standing in its mighty shadow. The geometry of the structure produces a strange sense of disquiet—the front would remind him of a palace. A long design, with Rectangular, unadorned pillars rising from the ground to awning, flanking a bronze door with steps so sharp they look like they might cut, and a perfectly hemispherical dome rising from the middle, with two similarly impressive buildings flanking it, to achieve its effect of length and symmetry.

Behind it, towering, is the vague mountain shape that Egemen saw in the distance. Perfect symmetry of a triangle, before sloping sharply upwards like a tower—long, slatlike windows line the face of the mountain at regular intervals. And a clock’s face adorns the front of the tower in bold, white metal against the black rock.

Uferth dismounts from the carriage and opens the door for Egemen, a gnome and a guard appearing behind him and scribbling as he speaks. “Egemen Galzael t’see Director Whi—“

The gnome cuts him off, handing him an unfamiliar black coin. A halfling hops up onto the carriage, gives Uferth a wave, and drives off. He claps Egemen on the back. “Y’ll do great. Look fo’ard to working wit ye, Elf.” He says, pocketing the coin and walking away from the crowd.

Spoiler: Lilith

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As the delicious scent fades away, it is replaced by the faint tings and gongs of industry, and Lilith can hear the sounds of the Manufactories in the distance if she listens carefully.

“I am, yes. About four years now.” Jebediah comments, drumming his fingers against the wall of the carriage. Lilith can see his eyes watching the people lining the streets—there’s a fair few of them out there now. Most are garbed well, if plainly. She also sees that, like Auriga, the vast majority here are human, with a good number of dwarves, favoring heavier coats and austere, darker colors of greens, browns, and greys.

And speaking of greys—Lilith can help but noticing the occasional man, dwarf, and half-orc in a grey cloak and black pants, lined with white and green piping—carrying a fearsome looking blunderbuss. They also wear a hat she hasn’t seen before: a cloth cap that almost looks like an envelope, making it look as though they have a wedge on their head.

Lilith also sees Jeb’s eyes dart to something of a demure stone building, linger there, and smile. The plaque is small, and the writing looks almost as if its been designed to look innocuous, but it reads clearly:

The Wyrmtalon Pleasure Society

Jeb’s eyes suddenly look to Lilith’s, with a brief blush of embarrassment. It doesn’t last long, the carriage darkening as it enters the tunnel. He clears his throat. “And, assuming your training goes over well, you will be too. It’ll be challenging, but soak it up and learn what you can.”

When it emerges, Lilith sees the Headquarters in sharp relief, a congress of ravens is flying around the upper portion of the citadel. A small crowd of strangers awkwardly pressed together is gathered in front of a large, bronze door. Most of them linger near a fountain hewn from creamy, white soapstone, depicting a basilisk poised ontop of a craggy rock, staring ominously at any who would dare approach.

“This’s where we part ways for a while, kid—“ He says, leaning out of the window of the carriage, Lilith watches Jeb fish through a coinpouch through pieces of copper, silver, and gold, until he finds a large black coin, flicking it over to Palagad, who catches it deftly. He calls out from the carriage at a sharp, businesslooking gnome.

“Beetleburg! Got a Lilith McDougall here for Whitewood.
”
Beetleburg nods, scribbling, holding up a black coin to Jeb.

“Thanks, B.” Jeb says. Turning to Lilith, he says simply. “Hop out kid. Pal and I got one more stop.”

Spoiler: Nate

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“Bit o’ er’rything—“ he begins, giving you a bit of a sidelong glance from the driver’s bench. “—assuming that you’s being hired for what I think you are. Lots of target practice with bunch o’ diff’rent weapons. Runnin’. Climbin’. Swimmin’. Other ****. B’grateful you’s aint a sapper, now that’s some godawful training.” He says.

“Nearly there, now.” Nate didn’t need the update, but he had noticed the subtle, but marked upturn in well to do businesses and residences. Most of this quarter of the town was unfamiliar for him, except for one building that seemed to have remained no matter how hard others worked to price and drive it out. Even the aggressive white, yellow, and red sign hanging over the partially stone, partially wood structure.

Flashbang—there’s worse names out there for a brothel.

A couple turns later, and they are advancing up the steep incline in the granite tunnel, through the plateau leading up to the headquarters. The air is cold, but torches shine warm, flickering light onto the statues which line the route. Demons, monsters, angels, animals.

Daylight again. Being so close to the headquarters is a humbling experience—its almost hard to believe that the structure isn’t some manner of temple to a fallen god. The road opens into a wide, circular promenade where drivers seem to be dropping off their passengers, and a throng of strangers collected near the front of a gigantic, bronze door—more green than ochre.

The driver pulls up and opens the door for Nate. Nearby, a well-dressed gnome with a checklist escorted by a man in the ubiquitous grey cloaks, holding a blunderbuss approaches the driver. The driver states plainly.

“Nathaniel Wilder to see Director Whi--” The gnome doesn’t even let him finish, pressing a large, black coin that Nate hasn’t seen before. The driver grins, pockets the coin and closes the door behind him.

“G’luck!” says the driver.

Spoiler: Bobcat & Balovin

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Turning up an eyebrow at the dwarf, he answers simply, and a little coldly. “Hiring you.”

He’s happy enough to turn over the reins over to Balovin, retrieving a pipe from inside of his cloak, getting himself as comfortable as he can on the driver’s bench. As the carriage goes through the thoroughfare, a shady looking character—black, greasy hair matted on his face, wearing a patchwork suit of leather armor approaches the carriage. He calls up to it, walking abreast of the wheels.

“Oi Mal: got an update while you was out.”

“Busy.” Mal says, through teeth on the pipe.

“It’s about Banquo.” The greaser says, his tone, disquieted.

“Busy.” Mal says, puffing a smoke ring.

“The thing with all the you-know-who’s? There’s more of them than we originally thought.”

Mal rolls his eyes and withdraws his pipe, looking down at the man, briskly walking to keep step. “Flashbangs?”

The man nods and melds back into the crowd. Mallory will direct Balovin if he misses a turn, but is otherwise despondent—ruminating.

Spoiler: Rolls

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BN, make a Profession (Driver) check.

[brandnewb]

Spoiler: driver check Balovin

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This is his driver check: (1d20+6)[17]

[Nostromo]

Spoiler: Bobcat & Balovin

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Without incident, Balovin manages to get the carriage to the assembly area. Familiar with the area, but never with the volume of carriages or people at the promenade at the front doors, Mallory instructs Balovin to bring it up to the edge and dismount. He is met there by a well-dressed gnome, tapping his shoes and checking a strange contraption attached to his pocket, a slender, golden chain woven around the bottom button of a waistcoat. When he arrives seeing Mallory smoking calmly at the driver's bench with an unfamiliar Dwarf with the reins in his hands, he shoots Mal a stormy look.

Mallory grins back, bemused. "Balovin Stonehammer and Bobcat, uh..." He trails off, looking down at the half-orc in the carriage to finish the statement. "Bobcat. To see yadda yadda yadda." Mallory says, waving his hand dismissively.

The gnome's visage hasn't cleared up. The cadence of his foot taps grows faster.

Mallory laughs, slapping his knees. "Gods, Beetleburg you haven't changed a hair? How do you do th--"

"-- Their director, agent." The gnome spits. He looks like he might explode if he doesn't get an answer.

"Oh, Cassi-- wait, no. Whitewo--"

The gnome practically throws a black token at Mallory, who snatches it out of the air while still smoking with his free hand. "Y'er the best, Beets. Drinks later?" He asks.

Beetleburg has already moved onto another carriage. Mallory shrugs and turns to the remaining two, playing with the coin. "Right! Have fun you two-- seeya around, don't blow yourselves up in training!"

[brandnewb]

Balovin nods with a grin, grabbing his longhammer he climbs down from the carriage. "I will try hard not ta blow me self up Laddy. Here boy!" He calls out and his hound comes sprinting over to his side. Balovin waves his hand to his side and says "Heal." Balovin waits for Bobcat to get out of the carriage.

Spoiler: Rolls

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Balovin will try again if the dog fails to obey the first time. DC 10
Handle Animal: (1d20+5)[9]

[brandnewb]

When his dog fails to listen the first time Balovin repeats the command impatiently. Tapping his foot in anoyance.

Spoiler

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(1d20+5)[7]

[brandnewb]

"Torag curse you, you stupid bloody mut. Ge' over here HEEL!" Balovin shouts this time at his dog who is busy peeing on a nearby wagon.

(1d20+5)[11]

[brandnewb]

The dog trots happily over to Balovin and stands staring happily up at him. Tail wagging vigorously. The dwarf scowles at the creature, "You're lucky you warned me about that bug bear a few weeks back, er I'd trade you right now for a good meal and a beer." He pats the hound on the head with a smile. His threat is clearly empty.

[Aeryk]

Lily takes in the sights and sounds while Jebediah speaks, and her brow furrows as she notices the grey men with the strange hats. She turns to ask about the men when she notices Jeb looking at the pleasure house. She raises an eyebrow at Jebediah with a little smirk, "So you're a true man after all. After last night I wasn't so sure." She lets that comment linger as they pass through the tunnel.

She hops out of the carriage gracefully, then turns to Jeb and by way of farewell says with a wink, "Don't have to much fun, honey!", in her sweet drawl.

"Hello there, Mr. Beetleburg was it? How are you this fine day?"

Spoiler: OOC

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Can Lilith roll knowledge local to see if she knows anything about the black coins?

[Nostromo]

Spoiler: Lilith

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Jebediah says nothing, responding only with a smirk as the carriage exits the promenade.

At the mention of his name, Beetleburg halts abruptly mid-step-- as he regards Lily's lovely form, his face is a mask of surprise and anxiety.

He manages a curt nod, stating simply "Busy. Big day."

Spoiler: Knowledge (local)

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She can try, yes.

[RandomWombat]

Following the dwarf's pointing finger, Egeman spots Cabbala's as they pass by. Sorcery has never particularly bothered him, so he refrains from commenting - though the place does have an uneasy air about it.

A different sort of unease than that hanging around the BAM headquarters. Like standing at the foot of a great, black dragon. Knowing that, had it cause to, it could crush you in an instant.

Soon Egeman discovers he is being left to fend for himself at the foot of this dragon. He stands firm when the dwarf claps him on the back, and inclines his head in a nod as he mirrors the farewell, "Likewise, dwarf. I will see you next, on the job."

Stepping away from the carriage as it pulls away, the elf gets his bearings. As he understands it, he is to wait for someone named Whitewood. The wait gives him an opportunity to size up what he assumes are the other recruits, watching the gnome go on to the other carriages, and paying heed to who is being dropped off.

[Nostromo]

Spoiler: OOC

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Lily can't seem to recall the significance of the black coins, but they seem to be relatively new-- currency can't be quiet forever...Can it?

[Archemist]

"Right! Have fun you two-- seeya around, don't blow yourselves up in training!"
"Does that happen?"

"And shouldn't Balovin get a cut of that coin?" It may be difficult to tell whether Bobcat is joking, just from tone. She didn't seem to have appreciated the "Bobcat... Bobcat" introduction.

Bobcat isn't really expecting to get in-depth answers to her questions, though, especially not from the joke-reliant Mallory. Bobcat surveys the area they've been dropped off in - this many people make her wary. She knows she may stand out in ways she won't want. She was surprised that Beetleburg fellow didn't stick around to properly instruct them what to do, and she doesn't like not knowing what to do. She glances at Balovin and rolls her eyes at his dog troubles. "Didn't you give that poor dog a name besides 'mutt' and 'boy'? I don't know how you expect him to respond."

[H. Von Studley]

Nate stays in place where he is, stretching his cramped muscles and enjoying the morning sunshine. He feels the memory of the dream beginning to lessen.

He looks over at the driver, stopping him before he can leave. "Did you hear me? Lorentz is sendin' a runner with my horse. When's he gettin' here?"

[Nostromo]

Spoiler: Egemen

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The recruits seem to be gathered nearby a basilisk statue at the foot of the stairs, opposite to the greenish/ocher door. The distinction is subtle, but you notice that they seem to be congregating into loose cliques.

One clique seems to be comprised mostly of gnomes and humans, carrying few open weapons on them. They mostly are keeping quiet, though he does spot the occasional conversation going on in the background. Another is almost entirely dwarves, also relatively-simply armed, if at all-- it appears they are engaged in a heated discussion, though Egemen is a little too far away to pick up the specifics of the conversation. The third and fourth are almost indistinguishable, both featuring a relatively equal balance of human, gnome, halfling, and dwarf-- maybe even a half-elf, actually. They are considerably more armed and armored than their compatriots.

A few carriages over, Egemen hears a boisterous shout:

"Torag curse you, you stupid bloody mut. Ge' over here HEEL!"

It appears a dwarf has lost control of his hound. A few other faces turn from the crowd at the outburst. You also see a man trying to flag down a carriage as its driving away-- something about a horse?

Spoiler: Lilith

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The appearance of two other carriages sends Beetleburg away in a scurry, looking between the small, round contraption in his pocket and the clock-face looming oppressive overhead, watching like some manner of complex, axiomatic eye.

The other recruits, it seems, have congregated around an impressive statue of a basilisk at the foot of the stairs in a loose gaggle. The garb that some of them are sporting ranges anywhere from quasi-military, to decadent robes, to canvas and sack-cloth. It seems BAM looks into all quarters to see where potential talent may lie.

Lilith also hears an explosive outburst from a Dwarf nearby. Something about a dog?

Spoiler: Nate

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The driver is palming and tracing the black coin like it might melt into ink if he doesn't, a lost, content smile washing over his face while he does. He's so lost in it, he almost doesn't hear Nate a second time, but he rears the horses briefly, looking back at him confused.

"Eh? Mista' Lorentz ain't never said anything t'me about no horse." He continues rubbing the edges of the coin. "Pard'me mistah, I got's to go. Teddy Lorentz is a good fella, though--" he begins. "--Me's sure he be by with your horse, arright?"

Looking over the crowd, the driver points at the slight form of Beetleburg and escort. He is no longer by the carriages, and is walking towards the great, copper door. "I think y'ought to hang by the others, you's about t'get the speech. G'luck, now!" He says and carries on through the promenade.

Spoiler: Bobcat

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If it was possible to do a spit-take with a pipe, Mallory would have done it after Bobcat's queries. He calls back down to her.

"Only if you frak it up. Free tip: gunpowder-- its has no conscience; it has no friends." He begins, chuckling. When Bobcat asks about the division of the coin, his demeanor goes oddly business-like, tucking it quickly into his pocket before painting a serene smile back on his face. "I wouldn't worry about it. You two will be getting your own in due course. Ta for now! See you 'round town!" He says, and waiting for nothing else, pilots the carriage down the promenade.

Spoiler: Balovin

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The dog, free of the troubles of nature, begins to pad closer to the larger throng of people amassed near a basilisk statue. If he were to hazard a number, he'd say that there's a gathering of at least fifty people here. No shortage of Dwarves-- there seems to be a good clique of them congregated in a loose circle, arguing over something-- not with any anger or verve, just with intelligent points of merit. The hard, clear consonants and deep vowels of the Dwarven language plain to the ear.

[brandnewb]

"Didn't you give that poor dog a name besides 'mutt' and 'boy'? I don't know how you expect him to respond."

Balovin replies with a retort "I don' know why he expects me to feed 'im when he don' listen like this. Look at the ragged mut, running off again. He knows well 'nough what heel means. I spent nearly a month teachin 'im. I guess I don' take 'im inta town enough. Its all too exciting."

Balovin pulls a treat out of his pocket. "It will be good ta get him used ta crowds. HEEL boy!" Balovin repeats the command holding the treat out. He appears to be ignoring Bobcats statement about the dogs name.

Spoiler: Handle Animal

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(1d20+5)[11]

[RandomWombat]

All the shouting and barking drew Egeman's attention away from the groups, and he grimaces with a twinge of sympathy. Watching the dwarf stumble around after the hound reminded Egeman of basic ranger training - probably for the best he didn't keep going with that, because he's terrible with animals. Personally, he didn't see the appeal of canines. Loyal this, obedient that, but any real ranger didn't have those problems in the first place.

Again, though, Egeman wasn't one to talk about being a real ranger. He had another calling.

Not wanting to get peed on by a dumb dog, Egeman approaches the man calling for his horse. It seems this one hasn't settled into one of the cliques yet. "Pardon," he says to get the man's attention. "It seems that some of the recruits are assembling into like groups. Are you here to train with a man called Whitewood?"

[Archemist]

"It will be good ta get him used ta crowds. HEEL boy!" Balovin repeats the command holding the treat out. He appears to be ignoring Bobcats statement about the dogs name.

"We might as well have gotten you a cat like I'd wanted. It still wouldn't heel, but at least it'd catch mice. And it'd smell better."

To the extent possible, Bobcat stays at the edge of the throng of people. She admires the large statue. "Ironic - basilisks are usually turning other people into stone, in the tales," she thinks.

She notices an elf also arriving. Hooray! Surely that will be better gossip-fuel than the half-orc. Plus he's got a wicked-looking scar. She decides he looks solid, though, for all that. It'd be just like some fool corporate type to pair them together, elf and orc, "to encourage tolerance" officially, but of course really just for the laughs. She bristles and resolves to avoid the stereotypical fireworks.

She sees the elf approach a human man who looks vaguely familiar. She heads to within earshot as well, hoping to at least catch their names and piggyback on their conversation (in the long introvert tradition).

[brandnewb]

"We might as well have gotten you a cat like I'd wanted. It still wouldn't heel, but at least it'd catch mice. And it'd smell better."

"Pfft, give him credit. We would 'ave never tracked down that goblin if he had'nt smelled him out. You gotta admit he is a good puppy. Never seen no cat do that." The dog is clearly full grown hound, and not a puppy in the least. The dwarf has clearly developed a grudging affection for the hound.

Balovin eyes the elf across the way, and nods when he sees Bobcat eyeing him too. "A bloody elf." Balovin says under his breath, not adding anything else to his statement. He follows Bobcat after handing "Puppy" his treat. The hound follows Balovin, finally following the instructions to heel. The hound does something crazy the GM has yet to determine.