Trog's Tavern CCLII

[Recaiden]

Ein (is told to) accepts Fade's decision, wondering if even he knows his best will.
She snaps back into invisibility and slinks away.

[Zefir]

Fade just notes that Ein disapears and sits back at the bar. After all he was meant to look out for potential Jobs around here and not making any talks about gaining power.

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

Raril's face goes blank for a moment as the fourth wall is broken, but he seems to take it in stride and just picks up the conversation again. "Yeah, if they manage to bring even gunpowder back to Faerun, it's gonna be a bad time there. On the plus side, though, a lot of young and impressionable drow are moving to the Nexus, and you know the Nexus doesn't stand for intolerance."

(Yikes! I thought I responded to this already. Sorry.)

That's true. It would be cool if we brought some positive changes to the Underdark. That's the name of the place, right?? Someone tried to convince me it was called Shadow-Shadow-Bo-Baddow once.....or Scarytown.

[Artemis97]

Raril laughs. "Yeah it's the Underdark. It would be nice if we could turn the place on its head, even a little."

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

Raril laughs. "Yeah it's the Underdark. It would be nice if we could turn the place on its head, even a little."

dang right!! *The llama exclaims. Then he glances our the window* " I think I am going to go stretch my legs and find something to eat. I've been living off bar nuts for the past year. It's been great catching up with you, Raril."

[Artemis97]

"Best of luck to you, Atreyu. Find a nice salad or something." Raril bids him with a smile.

[Westhart]

Liadi wanders over to the bar, finding a seat near Fade. "So, I guess this is where you tell me the bit you know?" She's unaware that Fade doesn't actually know who she is, so to her just dropping by real quick is perfectly normal, that he's expecting her to do so.

[Zefir]

Fade doesn't turn around to Liadi or even look at her. He doesn't need to since he saw her with his shadow. not that anyone can say that.
As he speak his voice remains soundless. No emotions or so in his words it will be hard to read his emotions, just like he got none.

"You got the wrong guy." he says. "I don't think we arranged a meeting here, nor did I see you before. thought you fit a description I recived earlier. Tell me your name and what business we got."

[Fendrick]

"It is rather complicated," Batu admits. "It requires a certain... frame of mind. A person who will pry off the floorboards of reality just to see what's under there. As for another apprenticeship... is there something you feel drawn to doing right now?"

Fendrick frowns; there isn't really much he wants to do for now. And being a sorcerer sounds very complicated. However, he has decided one thing; to go to GLoG and see if they can help him find his feet.

Fendrick smiles at Batu, and thanks him sincerely for his support.

He will head to GLoG shortly.

[Murkus]

There is a wizard here, where there wasn't a moment ago. He is tall, and thin, and elfin, wrapped in a cloak stitched entirely together from squares of colored cloth. His name is Sticks, and he is waiting for people. His apprentice, Michalson the 'cutter', and one other. He's gotten a table and everything! He intends to buy them some lunch. Might as well, it seems only polite.

[Morty]

Michalson the occult investigator also known sometimes as spellbreaker walks into the tavern and quickly spots his employer.

"Mr. Sticks. The rest o' the company isn't 'ere yet, I see."

[Deathkeeper]

Jim Puck, Sticks' faun apprentice, steps out from a corner, having hid himself in a corner with a basic illusion half an hour ago. Sticks may or may not have noticed him there. He's worn a practical buttoned shirt and cotton kilt, though he does have the armored coat that he jokingly made invisible to Stick thrown on top of it. It itched a little so he doesn't go "shirtless" like he had planned. He also has his master's bident, which he has refused to let out of his sight since Sticks entrusted it to him.
"Au contraire, most of it is." he says proudly, though at best he has probably fooled one person.

[Murkus]

Sticks at least looks surprised for Jim's benefit, if he wasn't surprised to see him appear. He blinks a few times and then gives the young Puck a respectful nod of his head. "Uh, yes, hello again Mr. Michalson. That's strange, the last member of your little company is usually quite prompt..." He looks up and smiles. "Ah."

Into the tavern comes a'striding a towering maid clad all in glittering rose tinted steel. The armor has a stern, sharp look about it without edging into 'spikes and blades' territory. The pauldrons of the newcomer's suit are shaped like the scowling heads of two huge, hook-beaked predator birds, and the glare they emit seems to rove around the room. Her face is covered by a T-shaped helm, towering up before spanning out to either side at the ends of its visor. Propped against her shoulder, held calmly in one hand, is the haft of a mighty warhammer ending in a head only a little larger than that of the average sledge.

The war-maid's visor has a half-grate covering, totally disguising one eye with a bolt-holed metal plate. The other stares out intently, an unremarkable shade of brown, a bit mirthful and a bit large.

"Lady Eschelle," says Sticks, faintly friendly.

"Sticks," she looks around. "His apprentice. And someone new."

[Morty]

Michalson looks surprised to suddenly see Jim appear. Was this just for the sake of a dramatic entrance? Before he can ask, another member of the party shows up.

"Michalson Barring," he says, for the benefit of both Jim and Eschelle. "Mr. Stix 'ere hired me to deal with security on this venture."

[Deathkeeper]

Jim bows to the lady and takes a seat. What a monster of a knight. Jim wonders if she was part of Sticks' old adventuring party he sometimes reminisces about. Or a past woman in his life.
"Call me Jim." he says to the two people. "And Barnabas." he says, gesturing to the little false-suited homonculus held under his arm.

[Murkus]

"Eschelle Escamonae," the lady tells the others. She goes to take a seat as well. "I was told we'd be entering some kind of underground recess. I don't think I heard about any security yet."

Sticks smiles as they all introduce themselves. He inclines his head when they discuss the work. "Yes, I've pulled you all on for a reason. Mr. Barring will be dealing with locks and enchantments designed to thwart intruders. Eschelle will be providing a strong arm and her dungeoneering expertise. And my apprentice Jim..." He looks at the boy, sort of worried. "He knows my workings. And I have taught him to the best of my abilities... but he is less familiar with this skulduggery than either of you. I hope you will do your best to keep him safe."

"That said, you will indeed be thwarting my own wardings and defenses. The vaults that I wish you to breach are mine... and I am almost uncertain of their contents," Sticks says, lowering his gaze before casting it around the table again. "I will take whatever questions you may have, and attempt to describe what you might encounter before you enter the vaults proper."

"Oh, for the Saints sakes, Sticks," Eschelle slaps her gauntlet against her helm. "I had thought this would be easy because it was one of yours."

[Morty]

Michalson raises an eyebrow, his face bearing the look of confusion. Normally he doesn't ask this sort of question... it's none of his business, really. But this sounds pretty relevant to his duties.

"Hang on 'ere, chief... we'll be breakin' into yer own vault? And you don't remember what's in there?"

[Zefir]

Fade returns to the tavern. This time he doesn't seek a place at the bar. He arrived just in time. He takes an empty table and places his sword on it while waiting.

[Morty]

After some time, Wenomir arrives in Trog's, wearing his full armour with the Vigil surcoat and carrying his sword. He was fairly confused by the challenge, delivered in an anonymous letter, but decided to come out of simple curiosity.

[Deathkeeper]

Jim shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose."The boss has...been around a very long time. Really though, Sticks, you should have written some of this stuff down for yourself."
It's alright that Sticks changed his ways after a few centuries but even if he hadn't how had he expected to get back into these vaults?

[Zefir]

Fade remain sitting on the table, thought he offers a seat to the swordsman if he approches him. The char moves away by itself, mved by Fade's shadow. It will be hard to see since a tavern has many shadows that move.

"You are Wenomir I guess?" Fade says in his soundless voice, if he Wenomir comes closer. "I guess you did get my letter then."

[Morty]

Wenomir doesn't sit down just yet, folding his arms across his chest.

"I did. And I was curious who'd challenge me to a duel in an anonymous letter. I believe an explanation is in order."

[Murkus]

Eschelle crosses her arms and waits for an explanation.

Sticks listens to the other two men and lowers his gaze. "I think my not remembering may have been... a deliberate effort on my part. I have periodically removed and replaced pieces of myself over the last six centuries - those that I can remember. It would be a relatively easy thing to erase my own memories."

"But that is the issue. I remember my early life, within a limited frame of time. I remember many years of my six centuries walking these worlds. I remember university, adventuring, experimenting..." He pauses. His voice becomes frustrated. "I even have a fractured recollection of building my vaults. But I cannot for the life of me remember why."

"Stranger still," he goes on. "From what I have seen of their outer limits, they are older than six centuries. Older by far. They have lain there since before Riverside was built."

[Morty]

Michalson rubs the back of his head.

"Could it be you're older than six centuries after all? And you started adventurin' and academic pursuits after settin' up those vaults?"

[Zefir]

Wenomir doesn't sit down just yet, folding his arms across his chest.

"I did. And I was curious who'd challenge me to a duel in an anonymous letter. I believe an explanation is in order."

Fade remains on his seat and the chair doesn't move back.

"It is simple. " Fade starts with his emotionless voice. "I have used the sword in my world. Any weapon could have done it, but I crafted a sword for myself. I have seen many who used this weapon as well. I heared some people taling about you. People come to you for training because your a striong swordsman. A challenge appeared to be the best way to see it myself."

[Morty]

"You've crafted a sword for yourself, you say," Wenomir muses. "Show it to me, then. I don't duel just anyone, but maybe you are worthy."

[Zefir]

"How odd." Fade comments as he stands up. Instead of taking thesword on the table he draws another one from his side.
"This sword won't be of use in a duell. It's made in my homeworld and it has the abilities from there."

Fade holds the blade up to him to allow Wenomir to take a look. Should Wenomir try to take the sword he will be suprised. The sword will just go through his hands without leaving a mark or anything. He just feels that there is something.

The sword itself is a very simple longsword, only it appears darker. There are no ornamentation. The weapon is simply made for the prupose to cut and kill. The edge of thw sword has many burrs and ravines, yet it appears sharp enougth to cut most things.

[Morty]

"So it's a sword made of shadow," Wenomir remarks. "Why won't it be of use in a duel?"

[Zefir]

"Simple" Fade comments. Instead of going through a long term explanation he takes the sword and tries to cut the table with it. The sword goes through it without causing any harm and even when he goes back up the table doesn't react to it.

"How could I cross a sword with a sword that won't be able to cross."

[Morty]

"My sword is the Answer to the Riddle of Steel, and there's no weapon it can't touch," Wenomir says, placing his hand on its hilt. "And I'm willing to test it against yours."