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Your group arrives in Hotha one day in the spring. After dropping your cargo off, and receiving your just compensation, you are met outside the market square by a well-dressed messenger bearing the emblem of the Golden Hand emblazoned on his vest. He bows politely and offers a scroll, waiting for it to be taken before departing. The scroll reads as follows:
"Good folk, my lord would seek to enlist adventurers such as yourselves to provide your services. If you've no pressing business, might I persuade you to seek out his company this evening? Dinner will be served, and a finer meal than your usual wont. I trust I shall see you at the Inn of the Red Lion, at precisely six this evening. You will find the discussion most fruitful." The letter is signed "Ker Meldronn, Seneschal to Lord Caro of Hotha"
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Catapultam habeo. Nisi pecuniam omnem mihi dabis, ad caput tuum saxum immane mittam.
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Avatar courtesy of Vael
Alphonse, having realized how poorly his diet has faired, reacts with a not uncharacteristic glee as the term "dinner" is mentioned. "Indubitably, my good fellows, I would think we should all take this opportunity to get a free meal, don't you agree my companions?" The word has an odd sound to it, but from your time adventuring with Alphonse you'll recall he always gets this unusual when people of apparent wealth offer him free dinner. After his hunger fades, he looks rather impressed with himself. "Ha, we didn't even tip the fool!"
"...I'm sure he'll get a copper coin from his lord, for his efforts."
It was quite clear, through observing and communicating with Baelham, that he had no love for the Golden Hand. He was a warrior, no doubt past his prime, but still with enough tenacity to hold his own in battle. And in exchange for his youth was he given knowledge - whether what insights he possessed were based on factual knowledge was not to be certain, as he was always a quiet man - a man of secrets - personable as he sometimes was. One could only guess what thoughts ran through his mind, but he always seemed rather sensitive about discussing anything involving the Great War. It's fairly certain, from his age, his attitude and several small scars, that he was a veteran. Perhaps, it's not surprising that he disliked an organization known to profit from the bloodshed between the Dominion and the Empire.
Offering the messenger no bow or other gesture of courtesy, Baelham instead barely acknowledged the representative with a thinly veiled sneer. After learning of the letter's contents, he frowns, slightly. "Our usual wont? I wonder if this lord presumes us to be mere savages, who feast upon the uncooked entrails of beasts we happen to stumble upon in the wild." He throws a glance to Alphonse, and then looks back to the scroll. "Maybe, in his pomposity, he may decide to reward us with an arbitrary, but handsome sum for an easy task. Let's see what he has to offer."
Vafra stands next to her pony her long braided hair swaying gently in the wind. An alabaster mask, covered in white downy feathers around the edges and runes along the forehead, covers her face. Her clothes are unremarkable the usual browns and grays of traveling clothes.
Vafra stares at the messenger as he delivers his speech, head craned upward to gaze at him. "I grok the fullness of your message," Vafra says to the messenger after reading the scroll. With her usual ideology she hops onto her pony intending to head to the inn. After getting about ten feet from the rest of the group she looks back, "Coming?"
Spoiler
This is Vafra's usual look, provided by her Hat of Disguise. Although the mask changes. Rolling a disguise check just to be safe. Disguise! (1d20+17=34)
Branthyn looks much more the part of a warrior or knight than a faithful devoted of the Maker. The bluish, silvery full-plate he wears seems to burden him little more than a normal breastplate might do so for someone else. The craftsmanship on the armor is extraordinary, with gilt and runes embossed into various parts. A large symbol, the Maker's mark has been inlaid with gleaming silver in the middle of the chestpiece. A small diamond has been affixed to the right shoulder guard, it's edges encased in an iron shell shaped of a tortoise's shell. Through a loop on his hip hangs a morningstar of dark, almost black metal that almost appears stone-like. Those with an eye for metals will recognize the rare material as admantine. A white crystal protrudes from a silver end-cap that has been attached to the bottom of the weapon's pommel. Rounding out his accoutrements is a large shield made of a black wood adorned with a blue crystal sitting in the middle of a steel setting shaped like a pair of crossed arrows. His golden eyes and fine platinum hair mark him as on of the aasimar. His face is pretty and young, his frame tall and well proportioned. You know he stays in shape by exercising regularly every morning after his prayers and by offering his services to a smithy in every town the group stops in.
He thanks the courier heartily and bids him a fine day. Smiling at Baelham's usual dourness, he counters with another possibility...hoping to play to the man's humors,
"Or..perhaps he is planning on serving the meat from a rare beast that few have had the opportunity to sup on. It could even be some strange new breed of cat that he fattens up for slaughter by feeding them the milk from a suckling pig? And with the meats maybe he will have had his cooks prepare an odd assortment of vegetables from the far off elven lands."
Sliding up into his saddle, he moves to follow Vafra,
"Either way, who are we to refuse the hospitality he has offered when we have no other pressing business. We can hear him out at the least and see where things go from there while enjoying a nice meal cooked in a stove as opposed to old bread and tough dried meat cooked in a pot of water over a campfire. A bit of civilization will be a welcome change from out recent endeavor."
Loghren chuckles. "If you don't like the food I cook, or how I cook it, Bran, you don't have to eat it." He smiles at the Aasimar, clearly not the least bit offended. After all, any cooking he does it generally a bit better than old bread and dried meat. And, occasionally, he has provided fresh meat, when time allows.
Loghren looks himself over. Dirty cloak, well-worn leathers, dented weapons, greasy hair, signs of the road buried within his beard. It was all just fine for him, but he knew it wouldn't be right for meeting with the Golden Hand.
"I suppose I should get myself all dolled up, looking like a purty lady to meet with these folk, huh? I suppose that's what they expect. Bah! He chuckles again. "In the meantime, what time is it now? I've never liked this numbers way of telling time. Sunrise, High Sun, Midday, Early Evening, Sundown. Those are times that matter. 6? What difference does 6 make?"
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Avatar courtesy of The Stoney One WWTD? No, really. I'd like to know.
Zadryn smiled at Loghren's complaint. "In civilized places, six is the time that most businesses close for the day. Trouble is, every town has its own different idea of when any certain time comes around. I'm sure any guard in town will be able to give us the local time."
He sighed and his look became pensive as he scanned the town. Now that their immediate business had been concluded, he had the chance to actually take a look. A job offer was always encouraging, but Zadryn wasn't sure what he thought of the Golden Hand. By the speed with which the group was approached after arriving in town, the organization was obviously well-connected. That came as no surprise.
"We should at least hear what they have to say. But if we have time, I would like to find out as much as we can about them before dinner. If anyone has anything they would like to attend to, then I suggest we just all meet back at this Red Lion half an hour before dinner. Any objections?"
__________________ The best way to describe being Master of the Universe is that it's like wearing underpants fresh out of the dryer. Yeah, that's the feeling...
Smiling back at Loghren, the cleric feigns innocence.
"Loghren, clearly I was not referring to your culinary skills. But this man probably thinks of us as simple adventurers with simple means. He couldnt possibly know that we sup on roasted venison and the best rabbit stew this side of Medro. As for time, it is as Zadryn says...many places have begun investing in machines of usually gnomish and occasionally dwarven design that have the ablity to track the time without any reference to the sun or moon. Amazing contraptions, but for most their price keeps them from becoming common. I would imagine a man of apparent means as our host might possibly have something like it in his possession. The Golden Hand certainly have few wonts when it comes to money and comforts."
Running a guantletted hand through his fine locks, he grimaces as his fingers catch in a knot in his hair.
"I do not need to do anything special before our meeting than find a stable for Hrondl here, and perhaps a quick wash and a change of attire. I'm going to find a different inn and procure a room for the evening and I will meet you at the Red Lion before 6."
With that, he moves off and asks someone on the street for a reputable inn until he gets an answer that is not the Red Lion and does exactly what he said he would.
Approximately 30 minutes before the appointed meeting time, the cleric can be found standing outside the Red Lion Inn in much more relaxed travelling outfit, his armor, weapon, and shield having been left in his room.
"Very well, then. I'm going to find the city's archives and look through the legal records. I'd like to see if there have been many civil suits against the Golden Hand. It would be nice to know who we're dealing with. If anyone wants to come with me, you're welcome to. Otherwise, I'll see you at the Red Lion."
He waited a moment to see if anyone wanted to join him before going to ask for directions to the archive.
__________________ The best way to describe being Master of the Universe is that it's like wearing underpants fresh out of the dryer. Yeah, that's the feeling...
Loghren looks askance at Bran.
"I really don't know why you don't just grab a room at the Red Lion. If things work out well, you can maybe get it for free."
Loghren proceeds to the Red Lion Inn. Upon arrival, he checks in and then asks any employee about where he might find some clothing that would be of nicer quality, but still have more of a "rustic" look.
Spoiler
I really couldn't think of the right word that Loghren would use for this. My thinking is along the lines of, say, Davy Crockett or Daniel Boone when they would go to Congress. Something of nicer quality, but something that also says, "I live my life outdoors, not in the city." Does that make sense?
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Avatar courtesy of The Stoney One WWTD? No, really. I'd like to know.
Zadryn sighed in a bit of frustration. They had been searching the archives to no avail. The Governor had apparently blocked the Court's records from public access and all of his inquiries met with no results. He slumped himself into his seat at the table they'd been using.
He raised his eyes up at Imani. "Well it looks like this is a dead end. While we're here though, there is something I've wanted to ask you, if you don't mind." He pasued for a moment before asking, "You seem no less dedicated to your beliefs than I. What is it about Keldama's faith that draws you?"
__________________ The best way to describe being Master of the Universe is that it's like wearing underpants fresh out of the dryer. Yeah, that's the feeling...
Imani looks at Zadryn across the table, "Life is hard, cruel and unrelenting. My Goddess makes it worth living."
Her eyes get a faraway look before she suddenly remembers where she is. "My Goddess made it possible for me to rise above what I was. I will worship Her and do Her will."
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Avi by Elder Tsofu
Inner Circle
Quote:
Originally Posted by Vaynor
Well you cheat, obviously. You're a druid, you can just cast Control Weather and call it a day.
Zadryn sat his elbow on top of the table and rested his chin on his fist. His expression shows dissatisfaction with her answer. "You didn't answer my question, though. You only acknowledged it. I can tell that you certainly think her worship is worthwhile. What I'm asking is why you think so. Just out of curiosity."
__________________ The best way to describe being Master of the Universe is that it's like wearing underpants fresh out of the dryer. Yeah, that's the feeling...
Not commenting on anything happening, Baelham instead lets the party go about their business, presuming they'll simply meet up again in the evening with little trouble. He turns to Alphonse - as he is the only other one to not have run off. "Have you been to Hotha before? This place was built to be a fortress - not the easiest to navigate, for some. Frankly, I do not understand why some among us would prefer we all find our way seperately...but I suppose, the city isn't quite a maze, either." He takes a moment to view his surroundings, not really paying attention to if whether or not Alphonse actually replies. "Come, let's catch up with Loghren - we can get our rooms and have a place to lay down our extra baggage." He begins to follow Loghren's trail, his heavy armor clanking with each step.
The mage gazes at Baelham, knocking his staff into the ground, as if he were nodding. "You seem to know your way around." The question was probing, though only as an aside, as he began with a new topic, this time with a serious tone, "Have you heard anything of this 'Ker'?"
Vafra continues on to the Inn of the Red Lion, apparently unconcerned about her companions. After stabling her pony at the Red Lion she heads to any all places she can find that hold public postings made by Imperial higher ups.
Vafra takes a out a bloody stained note from her pocket the only legible piece of it the personal Imperial stamp of someone. She stares at the note hard for a few moments before carefully folding it back into her pocket. After memorizing the symbol again for what must be the thousandth time as she scans the various postings looking for its match.
She searches until 5:30 and then heads back to the Red Lion.
Baelham gives a subtle nod to Alphonse. "At first glance, I wasn't sure if the letter was actually sent by him - but yes, I know his name. He's a high ranking official for the Golden Hand, and a sort of civil servant - right under the governer, actually. I don't know all of his specific duties, but he's in charge of domestic arrangements, and has authority over legal officers of the city, if I'm not mistaken." He gives his horse a tug to make sure it doesn't slow down, as they walk. "He's been here a while - came when Caro was installed here, I believe." He goes quiet a moment, as they make their way through the streets. "They say he walks with a limp, too. But, I wouldn't know anything about that."
Zadryn smiled at her question. "The power of the gods increases with the faith of their worshippers. I can think of no better cause than helping to bring Zithri's wisdom and light to the world. I find that I can make a difference. Afterall, there are far too many people who would bring evil instead. Arrogant fools who think they can exploit the power of the gods for their own ends. They must be countered, or there would be nothing left but their chaos and darkness. If we are going to be at war for so long, shouldn't we make sure that what we are fighting for is worth the struggle?"
__________________ The best way to describe being Master of the Universe is that it's like wearing underpants fresh out of the dryer. Yeah, that's the feeling...
He nodded in agreement. "That's right. And I would prefer that that power be in the hands of those who are least likely to abuse it."
"It doesn't look like we're going to get what we're looking for here, though. What do you say we go meet the others over at the Red Lion?"
__________________ The best way to describe being Master of the Universe is that it's like wearing underpants fresh out of the dryer. Yeah, that's the feeling...
"I see...I suppose we won't really know what this is all about then..." Alphonse claps his hands together, his mouth agape before any sound comes out "For the better, I suppose. I would not want anything distracting me from the meal"
Zadryn got up from the table then. He smiled to himself as they headed over to the Red Lion. He never expected that they would agree on the subject, but at least it seemed that they could get along. There shouldn't be any problems. However, he decided that it would be best to avoid the particular discussion then, at least for a while. If she wasn't ready to give him a straight answer, he didn't want it to turn ugly.
When they arrived, Zadryn asked for a room for himself and then looked around for their other companions.
__________________ The best way to describe being Master of the Universe is that it's like wearing underpants fresh out of the dryer. Yeah, that's the feeling...
After spending a few fruitless hours searching Vafra makes her way back to the Red Lion.
After arriving at the Inn Vafra finds herself a comfortable chair to sit and wait for the rest of her companions to arrive. She sits reclined in her seat sipping from a flask pulled mysteriously from her cloak.
As his comrades arrive at the inn, he moves inside with them and sits at the bar while they go off to procure rooms, waiting for the proper time for their meeting. He orders a glass of wine and sits back to watch the goings on of the common room.
(You're welcome to congregate in the common room and RP together, or I can move it ahead. At your discretion.)
__________________
Catapultam habeo. Nisi pecuniam omnem mihi dabis, ad caput tuum saxum immane mittam.
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Avatar courtesy of Vael
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