[3.5E] Heretic's Bane Icewind Dale

[mshady]

"I 'hink we'd all like to see the dear Ober get slapped 'bout a bit" Carmard says with a tight smile under his beard in reply to Wyatt. His gaze returns back to Thordek anod nods in reply.

"The Takers be a bit more than just self important snobs" he continues, than gestures towards the palatial compound. He seems a bit deflated as he gestures towards the area. "I think they be a great deal more than that. They call themselves the Takers or the Fated? They control all the records and clerks? That be power in a city. Mayhaps Johannes knows some more and we can all gather 'round a campfire later" he says with a snort.

"Now... who's coming with me to the Foundry?" he says and looks around at the group. "Make no mistake, there be a good chance this may be our last day 'mongst the living. We 'ave a day? Maybe two? We 'ave to recover the Stoneburner. The 'ctual chances of us doing that, 'specially without the Forgemark, means it be damn near impossible" he grimly states and looks around the group. He sets his jaw and grimaces.

"For me, this be a matter of honor and that be my cart to bear. Victory or death. Even for those of ye part of the Patriarchate, you are under no oath to commit yourselves to near certain death. For those of you who be friends, allies or mercenaries... your assistance has been invaluable but this is dwarf business. You may stand aside, and if I survive this, none will think less of ye. Now would be the time to depart and find yer own ways home, if you so wish. For all of ye though, while I think some of ye may abhor what the Stoneburner is, and does, and how it was made it is now an enormous amount of concentrated power commanded by a vengeful soul. It be best in our hands than free to roam" he says and grimaces once again.

"So, who's coming with me to the Foundry? Stand over by me if yer accompanying me"

[Werewhale]

Nalrak Ironfist

"I am, of course, always at yer side, Carmard." Nalrak states loyally and stands at Carmard's side. "Better a short and glorious life that live a long and dull one. Besides, it's a good story to tell the grandchildren. Not that I'll have any if we all die here..." Nalrak trails off and scratches his beard awkwardly.

[Strangie]

Wyatt thinks on Carmard's words. He'd only been with this group for a short while, but every bit was worth it so far.

"... Well. You all saved my ass from a bunch of orcs in a cave. When I said to Sable 'dat I pay a debt owed I meant it. So I'll consider this truly it - done a lotta dumb things in 'da past, but 'dis might be one of the dumbest, but, what 'da hell. Not like I got much else goin' for me at 'dis rate, in any event..." He takes his stand near Carmard and Nalrak. "If we go out, we'll be doin' it in a blaze of glory, eh?"

[thorgrim29]

Thordrek steps over to Carmard's side after running a hand through his beard a few times.

Aye, no public shame perhaps, but I would rather stand in the Halls of my ancestors this very night then live the next centuries knowing I left brothers in arms to face near certain death. Besides, I left Mirabar because it was dull, and here I am, about to assault a fortress of madmen and heretics to get back a world shattering artifact in SIGIL of all places. It doesn't get more interesting then that does it?

[ArmanMadero]

Spoiler

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My appologies.. I had to reformat my computer. it had something on it.... fixed it...

Arman was tired. His leg hurt. He wanted nothing more than to get some sleep. He was afraid that it would be a human sleep he was so tired, and not his normal reverie. And he still needed to look at his spells...

He wasn't sure if he should go with Carmard, but, he also didn't want to see the stoneburner in hands that would really do harm.

He looked to Carmard. "If a few hours of rest are before going to the Foundry, then I will gladly accompany you. I'm afraid otherwise, that I am too tired to do much else, and would more than likely hinder you."

With that comment, Arman covered up a yawn and looked at Carmard for his answer. Indeed, the elf looked weary. Shadows showed under Armans, eyes, and his back was hunched as he struggled to stay upright, both from being tired and from the pain in his leg. His black hair hung down his back, lank and greasy from all the fighting, blood and being unwashed. His blueish skin also seemed paler than normal, if that was possible for a moon elf.

[Tharar_Greenleaf]

Kelith

"I was never one to leave my comrades in their time of need, nor do I like to leave business unfinished; count me in."

{{I will continue to carry Wyatt's stuff if he can't find a suitable place for it.}}

[mshady]

With little else to say and beyond weary, the group makes their way to the dormitories on the grounds of the Hall of Records. Jerious departs from the group, without so much as looking at Sable beyond telling her that he would send someone for her when the event was set to start. His soldiers remain behind and the equivalent of a sergeant remains escort the Blood Company soldiers to an available barracks in the area. The soldiers look around and grumble about their predicament, almost sullen and angry about it. Neither Hextros or Volkros seem the least bit bothered about the circumstance, but not much would really intimidate them. Obviously at least. The only exception is Johannes, who excuses himself from the group to stay at a place he called the Civic Festhall. Having made it clear he did not trust the Fated whatsoever, he splits off from the group and heads right back out of the gate they just came in. He doesn’t look back. Carmard watches him go and says nothing either, but his jaw works back and forth under his beard as he mulls over saying something but instead turns away, wondering if he had made the right decision. Some rest and treatment for those who had been poisoned, which included himself, would hopefully clarify his muddled thoughts. His mind kept returning to what was going on at the Great Foundry and a burning desire to know what was going on and, moreover, what he was going to do. Unconsciously, he fingers the iron wrought holy symbol of Moradin that hangs from his neck as he limps across the compound. Having been shot twice in the leg in as many days now, Carmard is ambulatory but very sore. It feels like bits of metal are biting into his flesh, perhaps fragments from one of the blades that had struck him or metal from his own armor that had been driven into him.

The interior of the compound is neat, elegant and beautiful. Many of the buildings are made of a fine white stone he was unfamiliar with, but must have involved some sort of arcane stone masonry or the most precise mathematics. Neatly clipped lawns dominate the space between and attendants give them dirty looks if anyone even looks like they are going to set foot off of the cobblestone path. On the southern side of the compound stands a squat, bowl like structure that could only be the aforementioned training grounds. A stream of carts wait outside it, preparing for the late evenings’ festivities.

After a walk of several minutes, the guards that accompany them usher the Blood Guard into the barracks portion of the dormitory. The Dormitories themselves are elegant and large, clean and magnificent. Many in the weary group feel a pang of shame for their unkept, bloodied appearances. The rest of the group is left alone to fend for themselves. After looking around for a moment, they head into the main entranceway. A plump old woman with silver hair and warm smile greets them, asking how long they will stay. Carmard explains it will be a few days. She nods, smiles and turns around to look at a bevy of brass pipes that stick out of the wall labeled in a language they do not know. Opening the flap, she speaks into one and summons some attendants to show them all to a room. She turns around and smiles once again, but her eyes flick towards Gore and than Jeth, who sits atop his bear without a care in the world. Her look is one of momentary disapproval, but she says nothing. Two white clad attendants show up shortly thereafter, both hurried and panting for breath as it seems they had run over as quick as they could. It seems rather odd behavior for them to be in such a hurry to show up, and no one mistook it for an eagerness for work.

While the dormitory was a large, multi-level building with stairs going up and down on the ground floor, the dwarven party was shown to a first floor room. It is large and filled with military style cots, along with plain trunks at the foot of every bed. Across the hallways is a communal shower, as well as a privy room. The smell of food comes from down the hall. Presumably they are close to a kitchen or mess hall of some sort.

[mshady]

The group quickly turns in for some well needed rest, not bothering to wash or do much more than take off their armor and drop into an immediate slumber. Such is the degree of fatigue that a guard is not even posted, as Carmard rationalizes anyone so assigned would probably fall asleep anyways. Everyone throws their gear off into a pile (unless they don’t) and settles down on to the cots. Sleep comes quickly.

Four hours later, there is a knock on the door. It is not immediately answered, so the knock can be heard again. It barely rouses the sleeping group, who largely ignore the knock although some may be light sleepers. Most are snoring like a masonry saw.

Finally, a voice can be heard with near pitch perfect clarity through a brass tube sticking out of the wall. The sound of a man clearing his voice echoes through the tube, followed by the sound of a bell being rung three times. A moment later, the sound of a voice can be heard clearly and loudly.

“Good eve to everyone” a voice says with a faintly nasal pitch. “The First Ober of 1st Century/2nd Millennium of the Records, Ayers sans Jerious requests the presence of a Miss… Sable. This detachment will escort her to Darkwood Training Facility for the evening’s events in one hour’s time. That is all” the voice says. The bell clangs three more times and it reverberates through the room, magnifying the sound considerably. With another metallic clang, the outside of the tube is loudly shut and that is the last voice heard from the speaking tube.

Sitting up in his bed, Carmard rubs his tired eyes and grumbles at being so awoken. With one hand, he reaches for his canteen and takes a long pull of what is presumably water from it and wipes the excess away from his lips and beard. Bleary eyed, he looks across the room towards where Sable sits and stares at her for a long moment without a word, before finally speaking.

“Well, ye should ‘ave an interesting time” he says. He smiles tiredly at her, trying to reassure her, than lowers his head and rubs his temples before looking up. “For what it be worth lass, I’m sorry”

He frowns and tries to think of something else to say, but shakes his head and flops back down on to the cot and stares at the ceiling of the room with his hands behind his head.

[Strangie]

Wyatt grumbles in his sleep, waving his hand dismissively at the door. "Bleh, go away, mister... man, we... we don't want any..." He faceplants back in his pillow for a moment.

He flails and sits up when the voice rings in, staring at the tube like some sort of frightened cat as it speaks. He relaxes after a moment and sighs, rubbing his face with his hand and frowning.

After the message is delivered, Wyatt stretches and yawns a little, glancing over at Sable.

"Feh... I never sleep easy anyway... now I'll never be able to sleep, I feel. Ya want some extra company, Sable. While watchin' a couple of fops beat each other up sounds like a riot, I'm sure things could be livened up a bit. Eh?"

[Melody]

Thanks Wyatt I'd appreciate the company. Sable hastily washes all of the visible pieces of skin and drags a brush through her hair then twists it and pins it up with something that looks suspiciously like a throwing spike. Then pulling out the familiar battered hat she puts it on. Immediately she is dressed in a gown like those seen fleeing the resturant just after their arrival. The hat is now appears to be a pin holding up her hair. The sword appears to be a small jeweled dagger hanging on her hip. She places her pack, quiver, and bow on the pile of gear in the center of the room.

Smiling at Carmard she shakes her head. I've dated worse. She tucks a few gems into her belt and winking she walks to the door and waits on Wyatt.

[thorgrim29]

Wish the other guy luck from me

Mumbles Thordrek as he falls asleep again (gotta get those 8 hours). When he finally wakes up, refreshed, he jumps out of the blood, sweat and soot stained sheets and wanders around, barefoot, unarmored but with his axe and spell components on his belt, until he finds the bathroom, there, he cuts out the singed hair and soaks for half an hour while pondering the day ahead. After breakfast, he will take his armor to the armory and polish it. If this is the day of his death, at least he will look good facing it.

[Tharar_Greenleaf]

Kelith

Kelith will sleep through the knocking and disturbance as best he can, resting for a full 8 hours before wearily dragging himself out of the bed and finding food.

With his hunger out of the way he finds the bath area and cleans himself before getting his things together and suiting back up.

If there is still time left he'll go in search of the Temple of Kossuth Jerious mentioned earlier.

[Strangie]

Wyatt gets dressed and gets cleaned up. He feels better than he did before, the poison having been diluted from his system. When he comes back out, he approaches Sable, looking up at her and rubbing his chin with one hand. He is still dressed in his normal scouting clothing, his green vest and shirt and pads and all.

"Oh, sure, gotta get all fancy now, do ya." He collects his stuff, packing on his bag. "I feel a bit better now, I think I can manage the trip with my stuff. Ya sure you don't mind me comin' along? I didn't bring my monocle and fancy suit with me unfortunately, or maybe I'd feel more in place 'dan I do now, ahahaha."

Wyatt shakes his head with a snicker and a grin, following along. "It better be a real duel at least. Mr. Fancy Pants better be as good as he thinks he is. He seems like a hustler, too. Me and Grathy got you covered, yeah?"

[Melody]

I'm more worried about what this room is costing us. I'd have taken Joh's advice and gone to the Festhall if we could have all gotten away with it, but.. Sable trails off with a shrug of helplessness. The First Ober needs someone to play big strong man to so I'm happy to oblige if it lets us get out of here without paying as much. She chuckles. Here I am worrying over Carmard's purse strings, but I hate to pay people for the priveledge of visiting their city and speaking to their constabulary. She grins at Thordrek's comment and laughs.

Well let's get going. I hate to keep anyone waiting and the duel actually sounds interesting. Perhaps I'll put some money on the First Ober to win. Though I wish Joh hadn't run off, I like to know how much something is worth before I go spending it. She pauses with a slight frown. On second thought, no spending money till I understand the money system around here. Otherwise I'll get fleeced like a berk. She makes a face as she tries out some of the new slang she has picked up. Bah, gonna take some getting used to.

So saying she steps outside the room to follow whatever escort is waiting for the small group.

[Strangie]

"Hah! 'Big Strong Man' my hairy foot. If you wanna see some strong people, you should see 'da people 'dat I used to work with. People with muscles the size of my head. Like 'dat half-dragon guy. You woulda liked him. Maybe after we get through alla 'dis, I'll see if Carmard'll let me try and get in touch wit' some old co-workers of mine, eh? I'm sure there's gotta be some who'd rather be doing more interestin' things 'dan, uh, nothin'."

He shrugs, stretching his arms out. "Ah, man... yeah, 'dis group has plenty of stuff goin' on it seems. Hearin' about frost giants n' demons and orcs and this Stoneburner thing. Always plenty of things to be doin', yeah? And don't you worry - 'dey can hack it just as well as I can, heh." He says with a grin.

[ArmanMadero]

Arman gratefully followed the rest into the rooms that they were being brought to, and sank into one of the overstuffed chairs in the room when he reached it.

Reaching Reverie, was not an issue, and he soon sank into it. At some point he left Reverie, and went into a human sleep he was so tired. That didn't last long, though, and he was soon back in Reverie.

Some time later, he awoke, shortly before all the others. He was still tired, but it was more from waking up than actually being tired. He was still sitting in the chair, too tired to even have gotten into a bed. At least he hadn't fallen out of the chair.

He sat up a little and stretched, noticing everyone else was still sleeping. He reached for his pack, and withdrew hs spellbook, pleased to have some time to study before things started happening again.

Spoiler

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I will have an updated list for you later today M

[mshady]

Sable steps out of the barracks room feeling much more rested than she had before. Not to say she felt completely rested by any stretch of the imagination, mentally or physically. The last few days, let alone the last few weeks since she first encountered the dwarves, had not been kind to her and it was fraying her nerves. She is accompanied by Grathalmor and Wyatt as she walks to the front of the building to meet up with her escort.

Neither Wyatt or Grathalmor seemed any more rested than she was. While the dwarf seemed fairly unflappable all together, Wyatt seemed his usual self. For a fellow who had his previous companions whipped out to nearly a man, than was tortured by an orc shaman's mate who was fond of knives, it was hard to tell. Halflings apparently had a rather unique ability to deal with tragedy and move on. The result was similar to the typical dwarven stoicism to a point, though a dwarf would hold a life long grudge over such a matter.

Dwarves did not just hold a grudge; they wrote it down. These dwarves of the Patriarchate, at least the senior ones, seemed to have such a book dating back a long, long time. They shared its contents as easily as trimming their beards; in other words, they didn't. The Stoneburner they were chasing though was clearly a construct to resolve more than a couple of grudges. This whole mission was, in part, a test. That they cross the Planes going after it, than willingly throw themselves at suicidal odds to get them back, was a bit frightening when she realized her wagon was hitched to them. Well, it beat a lot of alternatives...

Well, at least Carmard had asked Wyatt and her if they wanted to sit the suicidal attack out without loss of face. It was an interesting statement on his part, if not unexpected. He was more concerned about their loss of honor than their lives...

When they reach the front desk, they find four humans standing in the black and yellow livery of the Takers. Or at least the First Ober's detachment of soldiers. One of them holds a large bell in his hand and it is the first time she has been able to get a close look at it. It would make a pretty fair club as well. Next to him stands the leader of the group and she immediately recognizes the voice as the one from the speaking tube.

"We've been waiting" he says, his tone a bit snippy. He clearly though he had better things to do than escort his commander's "date" around. Having his displeasure acknowledged, he slips back into a more professional, if slightly bored, tone.

"I am Third Ober Lodi" he states bluntly. He draws up a breath and continues.

"You will be escorted by me to the Rowan Darkwood Academy of Training. You will be accompany First Ober Jerious for the evening until his duel. You will be seated in a suite reserved for officers of the Second Millenium. Your behavior is expected to befitting an event of class. If you are unfamilar with such circles, do not draw attention to yourself" he says and looks Sable right in the eyes.

"My understanding is you are a ber... a Prime. My statement is a warning for your protection. Any gathering of the Superiors of the Fated is not a sea you would want to swim in, even if you were a blood." This time, his tone is equal part warning and sympathetic.

"The same goes for your retainers" he says and sweeps his eyes over Grathalmor and Wyatt. He sniffs his nose indignantly at the shape the two are in. "It did penetrate your brain boxes that you are going to witness a fight, not join it, yes?" he says with a sigh.

Resting his hands on the hilt of an unadorned rapier, the Third Ober's attention returns to Sable.

"Much more appropriate dress" he says pointedly. "Any questions before we depart? The event has already started, but the First Ober's duel will be later. It would not do to arrive at the same time as the rabble. Oh..."

He reaches for his belt and pulls out a small bag that jingles when it moves. The Third Ober places it in Sable's hand than backs up, returning to his place in line.

"First Ober Jerious instructed I provide you with some coins to cover any expenses" he says with a smirk, amused at giving someone money. "Some coins in there, but all platinum pieces from the First Ober's personal mint"

[Strangie]

Wyatt rolled his eyes at the Third Ober's comments about the state he and Grath were in.

"'Course we know we ain't fightin'. No, we're watchin' out for our lady friend. 'dere ain't anything wrong with 'dat, now is 'dere? Since we're watchin' an even 'of class'," Wyatt says, making quote marks with his fingers, "I suppose I'll hold off on my usual smart guy comments inside until AFTER the event. Bah." Wyatt frowns, shaking his head and looking up at Sable.

"Wow. Gettin' PAID to be here. Ain't you 'da lucky girl, eh?"

[mshady]

"Dressed as you are, feel free to be part of the amusements. Tonight is an open challenge night. If you see anyone particularly...vile, members of the crowd are encouraged to challenge them" he says with a sly smile.

"You may, of course, only challenge those who have already submitted to the Proving. Or just go on down. There are all manner of beasts and.. post living contenstants? I assure you, that is all for the amusement of the crowds. Serious business of our own challenges aside, to fill a night we oft require other diversions. It is a business too, afterall... Next week is a massive slave auction, a bardic performance, a public orgy and a draconic exhibition.

Attendance for that is down, however. We used to sell the leftover slaves for dragon bait. Was quite popular with the children of wealthy class in Sigil. Alas, the new Factol saw that as a waste. So, lets be off yes?"

[Strangie]

"... um, yeah, sure. Let's go." Wyatt says, moving along with the others when they do. He taps Grathalmore's leg armor lightly with his mace as they go, just to get his attention. "Hey clanky. You know how you were talkin' about seein' how Sigil brawls? Here's your chance. Maybe there's some sap out 'dere you can kick around a little bit and give 'em what for. Looks like 'dis might not be such a bad trip after all, heh heh heh..."

[mshady]

With Sable departing, the rest of the group takes the rest of their normal rest. Anyone who falls back to sleep falls into a deep and restful sleep. Some might not have been even awoken by the earlier commotion. Regardless, after a complete rest, Carmard , Arum and Arman spend the extra time preparing spells for the coming trip. As this would be their last chance to prepare before a fight at the Foundry, all preparations are made with that issue in mind. The priests of the party do their own preparations with a similar thought in mind.

Ready to move out, Carmard gathers the group that will be joining him and they make ready to head out.

Leaving separately is at least Kelith….

OOC: If anyone else is going by themselves somewhere, post IC so we can get that resolved, or started at least

[Melody]

Very sorry to keep you waiting Third Ober.

Sable weighs the bag in her hand without being obvious, after a mental calculation on the value of weight per platinum she has a rough estimate of what the purse would be worth in Waterdeep.

The First Ober has been very generous. Perhaps we could place a bet on his winning? He had suggested that I do such, and I can see no better way than to repay his kindness with trust in his skill.

She smiles. I shall of course trust you, Third Ober Lodi, to keep my companions and me out of trouble since you know how to swim in these deep waters. We do know that we are out of our depth and appreciate the great honor of attending the event.

So saying she continues along with the group towards the Academy of Training.

[Werewhale]

Nalrak Ironfist

Nalrak sleeps heavily through the night, only stirring slightly when Sable and the rest leave and mutters something about saving the pretty dwarven women from the hydra-riding demons. As dawn arrives, he wakes pleasantly rested and with no memory of what he was dreaming, although he was quite sure it was awesome.

He sits up and takes a few moments to simply enjoy being fully rested at last. But soon enough his thoughts turn to the task ahead and he realizes that he has much to do in preparation. Most importantly praying. He didn't have time to travel through the enormous city to find a temple to Dumathoin, and he'd probably get lost and 'fleeced' anyway, so instead he grabbed his coinpouch and hammer and left the dormitories. After a bit of wandering around he finds a nice, stony and secluded spot where he sits down on his knees.

After praying in silence for a while, he fishes around in his coin pouch until he finds the elliptical shape of a banded agate and brings it out. It was a meagre offering, yet the only alternative was the large diamond in his pack, and he needed that, although he hoped he would never have to use it. Nalrak places the rock in front of him and, after a few words to his god, brings the hammer down upon it. The rock shatters and a few tendrils of smoke rise from its remains. The runes on Nalrak's hammer still give off a small, red glow. Nalrak collects what pieces and dust he can into a tiny pouch.

After his private communion, Nalrak returns his things to the dormitories, then finds a place to wash himself somewhat, grab some breakfast and then returns back to his bed and spends the rest of his time until Carmard calls sorting his inventory, inspecting his armor, cleaning and repairing what he could, oiling creaky joints, shining his shield and occasionally checking up on any of those he recalled being poisoned in Wayward, especially if they were coming to the Forge.

[mshady]

The Foundry Group

Carmard gathers the portion of the group that will be joining him to check out what was going on at the Great Foundry of the Godsmen. Kelith and Thordek give their goodbyes, along with Gore. He does not explain where he will be going, only that he will be back. Probably. This is much to the relief of Carmard, but certainly of concern to Thordek. The two dwarves meet their eyes as Gore rumbles out of the room and they have a silent understanding: do what you have to. The halfling druid Jeth also elects to leave, along with his curious bear. What he was doing had not particularly been a question on Carmard’s mind, so silent had he been for most of the time in the party outside of a few admittedly dramatic contributions. Johannes had long left for another place, with no one sure when he would be back or how they would link up again.

A few minutes after everyone else has left, the group Carmard is leading heads out as well. It is composed of Carmard, Nalrak, Magnum, Hjalmar, Arman and Arum. The group has rested enough to move about normally (i.e. no penalties), but they are all still sore and weary. Much of their armor is still dented, creased, gashed open or otherwise punctured. Any shields they carry are deeply marked from many blows and blackened from the hydra’s fires. They exit the dormitory and look over at the distant Training Facility and hear the oohs! and ahhs! of the crowd inside and wonder how Sable and her companions are fairing as the First Ober’s guests. None of the dwarfs feel particularly comfortable at the headquarters compound of the Fated. It is a magnificent area. It is opulent in the extreme, actually. The place has a humbling power and the slippery feel of greed that gnaws at the dwarven sensibilities. The squat, imposing tower that reached so high above the other buildings dominated the inside of the area. When they finally exit the compound, it is not without relief. Whatever graciousness they had been extended after their dramatic arrival into Sigil, they had to wonder what the cost of it would be.

With a conjumen like “The Takers”, no one was going to mistake them for a charity.

Out on the streets now, with little idea of where to go, they follow the glow in the skyline that Jerious had indicated was a fire at the Foundry. While the First Ober seemed unconcerned by what was going on there, the dwarves had a very good idea of what might be going on. Inside the massive structure, perhaps the largest such factory anywhere, was a tortured spirit with vengeance on its mind, access to enormous power and thought of itself as a kind of proto-god. That it would seek out the Godsmen, who offered their followers an unlikely path to Godhood but a path none the less, certainly made a kind of sense.

What the Godsmen would think about what Bauruk, the soul possessing the lost stoneburner, had in mind was a very open question. Would they revere it for the very obvious power that the soul possessed? Or would they resist the attempt at forcing himself upon the entire faction in an attempt to claim their ultimate prize for himself, a complete outsider and not a “blood”, or member. If the fires spewing from the smokestacks on the horizon were any indication, there was a divided opinion on the issue. While the fires had clearly subsided, they still served as a beckon for the dwarves. It would take them hours to make it to the Lower Wards, where the Foundry was. Plenty of time to think.

The walk itself was eye opening. Despite their own rough appearance, it hardly earned them a stare. They did much of the staring themselves, actually. On several street corners, they saw what were clearly the undead standing about or walking in circuits around an area. They wore sandwich boards advertising various businesses. Humanoids of all sorts of races walked the streets, many of which no one in the party had seen or heard of before. Hooded workers silently cleaned a street while similarly dressed ones drove carts down the road carrying the dead to places unknown. The list of unusual things they seen on their walk was a long list indeed…

[mshady]

The Rowan Darkwood Training Academy

Sable, Grathalmor and Wyatt are ushered into the towering arena and the sights along the way are a marvel. Although their guide is silent about the sights, there are several statues on the grounds just before the entrance. They appear lifelike and the realistic technique seems far beyond any sculptures any had seen before. For Sable particularly, that was saying something considering her own roots and exposure to fine art in her career – although she was rarely simply visiting. For Grathalmor, the realistic style emphasizing the nude physique of the subject of various races is a shocking difference from dwarf stone work. Rather than the typically stoic look of a grim dwarf statue, the emotions ran a wide, wide range. Most dwarven sculptures were larger than life examples of fallen ancestors in full battle regalia, intended to serve as silent reminders of the subject’s glory. Of course, most were also intended to serve as actual guardians, possessed by spirits of their ancestors who could inhabit a stone form and protect the Clan. While dwarven sculptures may be tougher and far more useful, the actual beauty was something to be admired. For all his experience, Grathalmor is simply not sure how some of the work was even done. As for Wyatt, while his people shunned such permanent expressions as sculpture and contented themselves with a tree carving or a painting here and there, he had seen a lot of OTHER peoples art and little of that merited comparison either.

The newest, and most often featured, statues are painted sculptures of a powerful looking man of significant age, in his 50s or 60s in human years yet barely qualified to be an adult by dwarven standards. He has a short, pointed beard and a scar across one eye. The man is often depicted carrying a broadsword and a black, muscled cuirass. The sculptures that show his complete physique prominently feature quite a few other scars. Under each statue is a name plate.

Factol Rowan Darkwood

If he was the leader of this group, he must certainly be a powerful leader indeed.

The rest of the outside is made of a white stone that approaches the gloss white of true ivory. Any seams between the stone can barely be seen. Although dotted with statues in several alcoves, the outside is primarily a canvas for the most massive fresco any had ever seen. It depicts a humble man who is captured, sent to the lower planes, tortured, released, traveled and than holds aloft a shining ring as all around him bow. This fresco too bears a name.

Factol Rowan Darkwood.

Such is the theme in other places. It feels as if the man is imposing his will on all who enter through the power and skill of his depictions. Which was exactly the idea, no doubt.

Ushered inside, the trio are ushered into a door in the wall and told to wait. It is lined with silver and polished to such a sheen they can all see their reflections Their escort slides the door closed and pulls on a rope hanging from the ceiling. A distant bell rings and they feel the room lift underneath them. It takes a couple of minutes for the odd sensation to stop, but stop it does. When the Third Ober pulls open the door again, it reveals a large room high over the arena floor. The room is crowded with dozens of people and their retainers, both of the finest dress. No one pays the door any heed until they hear the clatter of armor plate as Grathalmor steps forward. All eyes in the room look at them. Eyes that weigh and measure them, than find them not worth their time or pity. The Third Ober’s face goes momentarily red from embarrassment before he practically pushes them all along to a room along the side. The wall is paneled in a rich looking dark brown and black wood. There is a name plate across the top.

Second Millennial – Command Staff Only

The Ober pushes open the door and inside the elegant room sits another woman. Four children surround her, one on her lap. She is a smallish woman and perhaps a half elf by the looks of her. Dressed in blue, she smiles up at Sable and company. By her feet, she lifts up a basket and sets it on one of the chairs and opens it. Inside, she withdraws a small platter with finger sandwiches and sets it down on a marble table between the chairs.

“Oh, you must be Mr. Jerious’ companion? I’m Anrika. It’s soo nice to have company in this drafty old room. The blood sports are just so barbaric, I hate that my children have to even be here except their father is in this useless duel” she says and sighs.

“So!” she says with sudden brightness. “Would you like a sandwich?”

[Melody]

Very pleased to meet you Anrika and certainly. Sable reaches out and takes a finger sandwich from the tray and seating herself nearby.

I am Sable and this is Grathalmor and Wyatt. She indicates each as she names them. We are indeed the guests of the First Ober, though I must admit to being rather clueless as to the details of these bloodsports. Would you mind filling me in on the particulars? I believe Jerious said they were the means of promotion, though I do not believe he mentioned who he would be competing against?

She frowns thoughtfully. Perhaps he did, but it was rather late when we arrived. He also suggested that I place a wager on his winning though I'm not certain how I should do that either. So please, begin at the beginning and I'll try not to act too ignorant. She smiles at Anrika and nibbles on the sandwich while she listens.

[Strangie]

Wyatt catches people staring at him, shrugging with a grin. "Yo. What's happenin'. Come on, ain't anybody ever seen a little guy before. Y'all supposed ain't to stare, it ain't polite. Don't 'dey teach people here manners or what. Geez." He waves them off dismissively as everybody is shoved into the next room, when Anrika speaks.

"Nice to meetcha. Yeah. She's his companion, if you wanna call it 'dat. Sandwich? Don't mind if I do, thank ya kindly," Wyatt says as he takes one with a nod, turning it over between his fingers and eyeing the insides before taking a bite. "Yeah, who's Mister First Ober fightin' anyway. I heard it was for a post or somethin' like 'dat? Another one of his officer fellows, I think?"

[loopy]

Grathalmor

Grathalmor nods his head gratefully in acknowledgement, as he takes one of the sandwiches offered. "Thank you for the welcome. Its seems ye are one of the few around this city who'll take down your airs and graces to let some common manners shine through." He sighs. "No offence intended. Ye wouldn't happen to have something to wash down this sandwich, would ye?"

"Wouldn't mind taking part in these duels myself, I'd say. Would do me some good to show these arrogant types how a real Dwarven knight fights."

[mshady]

"Oh?" Anrika says in reply to Sable. She smiles warmly at Sable and her blue eyes twinkle. With one hand, she pushes away a strand of very blonde hair and pats the small child on her lap gently.

"Well now, that is a bit sideways of him not to explain" she says with a raised eye brow. "The duel is for a promotion, yes. Jerious will be dueling against my husband for command of the Second Millenial. His name is Daryus Malvo. You've heard of him, yes?" she says, again punctuating the sentence with a kind smile. "I do love to see my husband duel. Its all a good bit of sport for him, particulary with Jerious. He his a mentor too, afterall" she smiles again and looks at Sable curiously.

"You should know that, if you are his companion" she says with searching eyes, and than shrugs. "Well no matter, it is good to see Jerious found a good woman. He's as often with his men as anyone else these days"
She leans back and takes a delicate bite of the sandwich before continuing.

"Well, the duel is a simple affair. It is a Trial of Position. The stakes are the command of the Millenial itself, so quite a hit of prestige. Oh, and work for me? I do abhor all the fussing I have to do. It's SUCH a social thing at times" she says with a fiegned sigh. Obviously she rather enjoyed that aspect. "The contest is assessed by a judge. Its quite complex to me, but they each get points for striking the other with a baited sword. Harmless, but QUITE the spectacle" she says with a smile and leans in closer to Sable. "Personally, I'd suggest you bet on MY husband. He didn't win command by being a lazy blood" she says and giggles at what may indeed be a double entendre.

Turning to Grathalmor, she gestures at a crystal pitcher and similarly made goblets. Water sparkles inside the pitcher.

"Help yourself" she exclaims. "Quite the amazing pitcher. It always refreshes itself. A bit of an heirloom of our family, so do be careful though" she says with a prideful smile. "You do look dressed for a duel yourself, and not a points duel either. Ober Lodi?" she says and turns to the now silent attendant.

"Yes, ma'am?" he replies.

"Our dwarven knight friend here wishes a bit of sport! Could we accomodate him? Perhaps something monstrous? The pits are just full of the most awful things. I'm afraid he could not fight one of us, as he is not a blood. But surely we could accomodate him" she asks.

Lodi looks him over and nods.

"I think we could find something that'd be a real test for the berk. Fights aren't supposed to be to the death, but the collars on'em don't always stop them so don't lose if you go in there" he says with a wide smile.

[Strangie]

"Ooh, so it's one of them fencin' kind of duels where they slap each other around with sticks or somethin'. 'dat don't sound too bad. Kinda reminds me of home back when I was an even littler guy, when we'd run around hittin' at each other with sticks... until one of us got poked in the eye, and hadta wear a patch over his eye. We don't play 'dat game no more."

Wyatt shakes his head, taking another bite from his sandwich. "Hey, 's good stuff. I betcha I'd be really good at one of them points duels, but I guess if I ain't from around here or dressed in fancy clothin' I don't qualify, huh. I betcha Sable would testify to how good I am close-quarters and how I'm just about untouchable, eh, Sabes? Eh?"

He grins, taking another bite of his sandwich. He listens to them talk about Grathalmore's challenge, and shakes his head. "Don't be gettin' yourself killed now, Grath. Last thing we need to be doin' is explainin' to Carmard why we had to carry what's left of ya back in a box or somethin'. Just to give ya a heads-up, yeah?"