Carl stands with arms crossed, a few grunts escaping him as the questions go back and forth. When the pause occurs and a moment to speak arises, he says “Doesn’t seem ta make much sense to me, lettin this fester outside the city walls, ignorin it, letting it grow and become more and more of a problem. There’s somethin else going on here. I’m surprised as you as to how he’s recruiting more into his ranks. Why did he wish to assassinate the Lord Regent Brahms?” (He says almost in time with Hildigrim, then turns to look at the halfling, nodding.
After hearing the answers, he’s ready to move on to Stonajow gate.
Hex scratches the back of her meekly as Knight Aleyd brings up the changes in their party composition. "Ah, yeah... we've had a few of our number leave for various reasons. You've only just missed Sylyra. But you have my word. Our new members are more than trustworthy."
She steps back as Hildigrim fires off his questions, nodding along and listening quietly. She shakes her head as he addresses the rest of the party. "All good on my end."
“Do you know why he sought to assassinate the Lord Regent? Did Krulek have any political leanings or grievances against him? Was he aligned with any factions that might have influenced his actions?”
"The Black Fist has been barred from investigating Krulek and his minions - and, as you can see," Aleyd says, motioning to the paperwork she's been working through, "There is no shortage of reports that we are investigating."
“Do you think the Lord Regent’s choice to keep the city guard in Phlan is purely a matter of numbers, or is there something more behind his caution?”
"If the Lord Regent decides to share with me his innermost thoughts on the situation, I will be sure to let you know," she says dryly.
"Do you happen to know anything about the Grimshackle brothers? As you may know, they run a prison up the Stonajow. We will need to deal with them to gather more information that could help us with Krulek Grey Patriots. Any insights or suggestions you might have regarding them would certainly be helpful."
"While on the surface their business may seem philanthropic, in the end it is all about coin. If they did not stand to make ransom money, the criminals in their jail would be released before you could finish a sneeze," she offers.
"You've only just missed Sylyra. But you have my word. Our new members are more than trustworthy."
"Sylyra..." Aleyd says, tapping her chin, "Ah, yes, I do recognize the name. I believe he assisted me another time as well, investigating some attacks on villages along the Moonsea. Haughty, but a reliable sort." After scribbling some more notes on her paperwork, she looks back up. "Send him my best regards."
“Haughty? Sylyra? I would never have said that.” Auriel chuckled, picturing a pair of pointed elven ears burning at the mention of their owner’s name. With a sigh, he hoped the druid was doing well, wherever he might be.
After this, he nodded towards Knight Aleyd, waited for the others to finish and turned to leave.
Hildigrim hides his frustration with Aleyd’s apparent indifference to the growing threats, though he can’t fault her for remaining loyal to her superiors and choosing her battles. “Once again, thank you for your time,” he says with a tight smile. “We’ll do what we can to address the issues along the Iron Route. Perhaps, when these threats to the merchants are dealt with, it may ease some of your own burdens as well. Shall we stop by to update you when our mission is complete?” There’s not a hint of uncertainty in his tone, as if he has foreseen a positive outcome. "Also," he says as an afterthought, "I'd love to find out from whom I can attain permission to visit the Black Fist Records Hall."
Outside the outpost, Hildigrim breathes a contented sigh, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Now then, Navigator, which way to the prison?"
Almost immediately, Hildigrim sidles up beside Uragum, his eyes alight with scholarly curiosity as he begins peppering the goliath with questions about his past. The fact that Uragum is a wizard is absolutely fascinating to the halfling, who seems intent on learning everything he can about the war mage. And though Hildigrim could easily dominate any conversation, Uragum is able to answer each of his many questions without interruption.
As they talk, Hildigrim reveals that he has always had a keen interest in the arcane, though no innate talent for magic. His hometown, Thentia, a bustling Moonsea town east of Phlan, is home to the House of the Learned, an institution where wizards and arcane scholars gather to study, debate and teach. Despite not having a direct connection to the institution, Hildigrim alludes to intimate knowledge of its archives and resources — especially one of its most obscure libraries. His revelations serve to both draw Uragum out and supplement the wizard’s own story, showing genuine admiration without taking over the conversation.
Carl sidles up to Hildigrim and Uragum as they are walking and the talk turns to the arcane. There’s a glint in his eye as he listens to the stories, he becomes very interested in the libraries at Thentia, he leans forward so much there are a number of times that he almost loses his balance and bumps into the two as they are walking along. He shows Hildigrim his battle axe and recounts the story of his lost family heirloom. But as they are speaking about the library and the knowledge contained within, Carl seems like he’s mustering up his courage, then a look comes on his face, tightlipped and glancing around, he asks the question that he keenly seeks an answer to, feet hurrying along to hear the answer as he asks it.
“Hildigrim… and Uragum too, both of youns, have you… have you ever been in a library, maybe in a rare book section, fulla dark secrets… have you ever had a book… talk to you? I mean, not like a page turner or the words jumpin into your mind or nothin like that… but actually hear the book speak to you? Or, maybe, it wasn’t out loud, maybe it just speaks into your mind. Has that ever happened to you, in all of your travels, all of the libraries that you’ve been into?” Carl looks back and forth between them, hustling along with them at a fast walk.
Hildigrim's face brightens even more as Carl speaks. "I have visited many libraries. A few may have had dark secrets, though I am inexperienced with such — I have had little interest in dark magic. But a book that speaks? Hainard's hairy toes!" The halfling's voice is full of excitement. He turns and walks backwards so that he can face the dwarf, not wanting to miss anything. "Please, tell us more. What did the book look like? Where did you find it? Did you understand what it said? What did it say you to? Did anyone else hear the book? Did you read the book? What were its contents?"
"Shall we stop by to update you when our mission is complete?”
"Well, you've seen the reward for Krulek, I assume. You'll certainly want to report that to somebody should you earn it, but it doesn't have to be me," Aleyd answers.
"I'd love to find out from whom I can attain permission to visit the Black Fist Records Hall."
Her eyebrows raise at this notion. "Why, should you become a dutiful member of the Knights of the Black Fist, you would have unfettered permission," she says.
Braden Yil stands at the gate, outfitted for travel when the party arrives. "Well met," he extends. "I hope your audience was fruitful? The Black Fist hasn't proved particularly...informative for us of late."
After listening to the information you are willing to provide, he says, "Shall we begin our journey? We can simply hike along the river if you'd like, or perhaps charter a river barge to carry us. I can also hire horses if needed; House Cadorna would be willing to foot the bill."
OOC: Don't let the good RP be interrupted, just carrying us forward a bit while the conversation is ongoing.
Aleyd's eyebrows raise at the notion of giving access to the Records Hall to Hildigrim. "Why, should you become a dutiful member of the Knights of the Black Fist, you would have unfettered permission," she says.
At her invitation, Hildigrim gives a tight-lipped smile — polite but decidedly non-committal — making a mental note to try again later with someone further up the food chain. Perhaps the Lord Regent himself.
Braden Yil stands at the gate, outfitted for travel when the party arrives. "Well met," he extends. "I hope your audience was fruitful? The Black Fist hasn't proved particularly...informative for us of late."
“They’re just as tight-lipped with us, I’m afraid,” Hildigrim responds. “Not that they seem especially well-informed themselves.” A scowl crosses his face as he reflects on the conversation, but he shakes his head, sighs, and gives Braden a cordial smile. “I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Shall we take House Cadorna up on their offer of transportation?” He glances around at the others, awaiting their input.
After they leave the Black Fist outpost, Auriel walks along with the others, lost in his own thoughts. It’s Carl's voice that draws him back to the present, mentioning something about talking books. The words stir a memory—that night at the Laughing Goblin, when the dwarf spoke, half-drunkenly, of a family heirloom. A library. A book that had somehow spoken to him. And how he had sworn he’d give up his soul to recover his family's axe. Auriel glances at the trio as they converse, saying nothing, but closely following the discussion.
Once they reach the gate, Auriel returns Braden’s greeting, and when the topic of horses arises, his reddish-brown eyes light up. “If there’s a chance, I’d truly love to ride,” he says with a smile.
Hex walks alongside Auriel on their way back to meet Braden, watching Hildigrim, Uragum and Carl with a small smile on her face as they happily chat with each other. It wasn't a conversation she had much to offer in and so she kept quiet and listened instead, intrigued to learn more of the halfling's past.
At the gate, Hex doesn't seem to have much of opinion on how to reach their destination, happy to do whatever the rest of the party prefers. As Braden reveals House Cadorna would be willing to pay for the horses, however, she becomes much more enthusiastic. "I mean, I definitely won't say no to some horses. Especially if they're free."
As Braden arranges the chosen transportation and the others continue chatting among themselves, Auriel takes a quiet moment to speak with Hex. "I've been meaning to ask... are you all right? About Sylyra’s departure, I mean. I'm sorry I didn't ask sooner—I've been a little too caught up with everything at the Temple these past few days." He smiles gently and adds, "You don’t need to say anything if you’re not up to it, but I wanted to ask just in case you do."
Hildigrim's face brightens even more as Carl speaks. "I have visited many libraries. A few may have had dark secrets, though I am inexperienced with such — I have had little interest in dark magic. But a book that speaks? Hainard's hairy toes!" The halfling's voice is full of excitement. He turns and walks backwards so that he can face the dwarf, not wanting to miss anything. "Please, tell us more. What did the book look like? Where did you find it? Did you understand what it said? What did it say you to? Did anyone else hear the book? Did you read the book? What were its contents?"
Carl looks over at Hildigrim and smiles at his interest. “Yeah, it really blew me away when it happened. I was in our family’s library. Pa and also his pappy had been somethin of a collector, really that’s the wrong word, hoarder, maybe. Whenever they served and wielded their battle axe and hammer, they came home with treasures, trinkets, odds and ends. I never knew till then that they brought back books too, taken from who knows where. They were never much readers or the studious types, they were all about minin and smithin. Not my cup of tea. One day I was in the library looking through things, boxes of books, scanning the shelves and I found it. I was reasearchin… well, I’ll tell you more sometime about that later…”
”The book I found was covered with a strange kinda leather, dark, made from… somethin. Not leather, not hard, I dunno wha. It felt, almost .. spiny! I did understand the writing, but it was strange, I’m not sure how I understood it.. it.. spoke to me. In my mind, like. No one else was around me… but it seemed to speak directly into my mind. The words which seem most hazy now to me in my memory, spoke of a land called Avernus. Some of the details are all mixed up in my mind like. The voice spoke directly into my head, it seemed to know my thoughts and what I was looking for…”. Carl stops here and holds his hand to his chin, scratching his beard. His eyes have gone dark, as if recalling a memory from long ago. He gets quiet as they walk on..
“Maybe another time. After we’ve settled this business now. Thankee for askin. Feels good ta get it off my chest like.” He looks up at Uragum as they walk. “We’ve talked a little about this, but I feel like you both would know a little bit perhaps about this kinda thing… maybe… we could figure out what happened, understand it more..”. His head looks down at his feet now, doesn’t want to meet their eyes. “Sometimes… sometimes I still hear the voice. It keeps talking to me, from time to time. Sometimes it laughs at me. Mocks me. Sometimes, it … saves me.”
Carl walks on in silence, and after 30 steps or so he takes some deep breaths, looks up toward where they are headed, putting the thoughts behind him like the footsteps he leaves in his wake.
Hex looks at Auriel with surprise as he brings up Sylyra. She gives him a grateful smile, one that doesn't really meet her eyes, and shrugs. "Haha, you don't need to apologise, Auriel. I'm okay. Really, nothing to worry about! Like I said to Knight Aleyd, we've had more than a few people come and go. There's no point in dwelling on the past. He's gone now. I need to... I just need a bit of time to move on. We worked together for quite a while after all."
It's obvious she's trying to put on a brave face and appear nonchalant. For the most part, it works. Every now and then, however, some regret and guilt slips past the mask. Hex is silent for a moment, avoiding the paladin's gaze, before clearing her throat and looking back at him. "And what about you? I know you and Sylyra had a complicated thing going on. Are you alright?"
You leave Phlan on the back of healthy horses purchased by House Cadorna. Fog rolls in from the sea as you depart, quickly slowing progress to a crawl, but the journey is at least made more comfortable without your own feet doing the walking. You arrive just over three hours later, cold and soaked to the bone.
Grimshackle Jail clings like a drowning man to the rocky bank of the Stojanow River. Rotten timbers sag from the tower's walls, and its outbuildings stand in ruin. Rooks nest in the crenels of the tower's battlements.
Broad walls encircle the tower's base, where a large gate house exits onto the towpath. A slatted peephole is fitted at human eye level in the stout, iron-bound door.
Auriel’s gaze softens as he watches Hex trying—successfully, for the most part—to maintain a mask of composure. He gives her an understanding smile and says, “I see.”For a moment, it seems that’s all he’ll offer, but then he continues, “You know, one thing I still find curious about the Material Plane is how often people conceal their emotions. It was so different back home. Where I come from, people live by their emotions.” His expression drifts briefly, lost in memory, before he looks back at her. “But don’t take me wrong—I only mean to say that I find it… curious. You’ve seen us, we Eladrin are a peculiar folk!” Auriel chuckles slightly, gesturing to himself and his changeable hair, eyes, and tattoos. “and we tend to wear our feelings quite openly, most of the time." He pauses and then adds, "In any case, you’re right. There’s no point in dwelling on the past, and the fact that you follow those wise words, even when it’s hard, shows your strength.”
When the tiefling returns the question to him, he takes a moment to reply. “A complicated thing, hmm?” he muses. “To be honest, I’m not even sure there was anything, at least not in the way I imagined. It’s strange because it sometimes felt like we had a lot in common, but then we were worlds apart. I’ve thought about it several times, and the only conclusion I’ve reached is that if something is that complicated, then ... it’s probably not meant to be.”Auriel offers a faint smile and a slight shrug after saying this, indicating he doesn't know how to express himself any better.
After this, Auriel changes topics and nods toward Carl, saying softly, "He worries me. I hope Uragum and Hildigrim can help him make something out of what he's told them."
Later, when Braden returns with the horses, the paladin’s face brightens with a wide smile. He steps forward to his horse, gently running his hand along its neck. As he does this, memories flood back of a life filled with more frequent rides—an activity he had always loved. Spring washes over Auriel, and he murmures softly to the animal, "Mae g'ovannen, mellon. A hannon le, na viro?"
"Hello, friend. Shall we travel together for a while?"
As they ride toward the prison, Auriel finds joy even in the rain and cold. Several times during the journey, he leans down to brush his fingers against the tall herbs lining the path, savoring the simple pleasure of their texture as he rides.
A little bit like this :D
By the time they reach the prison, Spring has yielded to Autumn, yet the Eladrin still wears a smile on his face despite being soaked to the bone.
Hildigrim marches backward as Carl tells his story. He nods occasionally and smiles quite a lot, encouraging the dwarf to continue his tale. Follow-up questions begin to queue in his halfling mind as Carl switches gears and begins talking about the present rather than the past.
“Sometimes… sometimes I still hear the voice. It keeps talking to me, from time to time. Sometimes it laughs at me. Mocks me. Sometimes, it … saves me.”
At this, Hildigrim's face immediately darkens, his usual enthusiasm tempered by a look of profound thought. "Carl," he begins in a steady, cautious voice, "do you have the book with you now? Or has it … found another place to hide itself?"
OOC: Fast forward to the horses ...
Hildigrim suppresses a flash of frustration as he realizes no one thought to offer him a pony. It was his own fault for not mentioning it, after all, so he bravely asks one of the taller adventurers for a lift onto the horse’s back. It isn’t the first time he’s been hoisted like a child, nor, he suspects, will it be the last. Little of the world is designed with his stature in mind, but he’s long since learned to manage.
Once settled atop the horse, he adjusts his breeches with a tug, determined to sit astride rather than sidesaddle. He does his best to recall the snippets he’s read about horsemanship — scattered bits of knowledge clouded now by a nagging apprehension. It’s one of the few times he's been on a horse, and the unknown looms as large as the creature beneath him. This could go any number of ways.
Hildigrim marches backward as Carl tells his story. He nods occasionally and smiles quite a lot, encouraging the dwarf to continue his tale. Follow-up questions begin to queue in his halfling mind as Carl switches gears and begins talking about the present rather than the past.
“Sometimes… sometimes I still hear the voice. It keeps talking to me, from time to time. Sometimes it laughs at me. Mocks me. Sometimes, it … saves me.”
At this, Hildigrim's face immediately darkens, his usual enthusiasm tempered by a look of profound thought. "Carl," he begins in a steady, cautious voice, "do you have the book with you now? Or has it … found another place to hide itself?"
Carl turns and sees the look on Hildigrim’s face, his expression grows rather blank. He readjusts his pack on his back, adjusting the shoulder straps. “Hmmm? Ummm, no, not that one. Back in my Pa’s library. I think.” He stares straight ahead as he’s walking. “I have some other books, would love to hear about magic you’ve come across. Hummmm, looks like we have some ridin to do!” He readjusts his belt and pants, getting ready to depart. “Don’t have any balm for my nether regions. Hope I don’t get saddle sores. Nothing worse than a sore bum.”
Carl makes small talk for the rest of the ride, listening carefully, but not offering anything further at this point.
There's a flitter of relief in Hex's eyes at Auriel's response. She understood what he was trying to say, that she shouldn't be so afraid to show her true feelings, and she agreed to a certain extent. She just didn't want to bring down the mood with her little pity party. Still, it was nice to actually talk about how she had been feeling. She was also glad that he really did seem okay with Sylyra's departure despite their complicated relationship.
As Auriel changes topic to Carl, she looks over to the dwarf and nods, her eyes and voice mirroring the same softmess as Auriel. "Yeah, me too..." Her interest had been piqued when Carl mentioned Avernus. She knew of the city, that it had something to do with the Hells and tieflings, but that was about it. She wished she knew more and could help him but she left that task to the more magically inclined and knowledgeable members of their party instead.
During the ride to Grimshackle prison, Hex can't help but be incredibly relieved that they chose to go by horseback instead of walking. Making the journey on foot in with the fog would've been hell. By the end, Hex is a bit of a shivering mess, unable to hold back her sneezes. "Urgh. The cold never suited me."
Carl turns and sees the look on Hildigrim’s face, his expression grows rather blank. He readjusts his pack on his back, adjusting the shoulder straps. “Hmmm? Ummm, no, not that one. Back in my Pa’s library. I think.” He stares straight ahead as he’s walking. “I have some other books, would love to hear about magic you’ve come across. Hummmm, looks like we have some ridin to do!” He readjusts his belt and pants, getting ready to depart. “Don’t have any balm for my nether regions. Hope I don’t get saddle sores. Nothing worse than a sore bum.”
Hildigrim clamps his mouth shut, his eyes lingering on the dwarf a few beats longer before he turns back to their path. There’s clearly more to this tale, he muses, but they've known each other for barely an hour. Best to let Carl reveal things at his own pace — too much prying might do more harm than good. They have a mission ahead, and, with any luck, it will yield further insight into the Cult of the Dragon’s activities. But a book that mocks as well as aids? That smacks of dark magic, for sure. Perhaps he’s entered into a pact — a warlock’s pact. Carl seems innocent enough, yet Hildigrim resolves to keep a close eye on him, watching for anything that might suggest trickery … or worse.
On the trail, riding so high off the ground, Hildigrim finds that he manages well enough. His horse is steady and well-trained, and though the ride is damp and chilly, it’s uneventful even under the cloak of fog. By the time they near the jail, Hildigrim has let his glasses slide to the end of his nose, preferring a blurred view over wiping off water droplets every few steps. His brown hair clings damply to his neck, his clothes soaked and sticking to his skin. But the sight of the tower lifts his spirits. He meticulously cleans his glasses, places them back on his nose, and peers up and around, examining the structure as best he can through the mist. “Not in very good repair, it seems,” he observes, half to himself, with a touch of disapproval.
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Carl stands with arms crossed, a few grunts escaping him as the questions go back and forth. When the pause occurs and a moment to speak arises, he says “Doesn’t seem ta make much sense to me, lettin this fester outside the city walls, ignorin it, letting it grow and become more and more of a problem. There’s somethin else going on here. I’m surprised as you as to how he’s recruiting more into his ranks. Why did he wish to assassinate the Lord Regent Brahms?” (He says almost in time with Hildigrim, then turns to look at the halfling, nodding.
After hearing the answers, he’s ready to move on to Stonajow gate.
Hex scratches the back of her meekly as Knight Aleyd brings up the changes in their party composition. "Ah, yeah... we've had a few of our number leave for various reasons. You've only just missed Sylyra. But you have my word. Our new members are more than trustworthy."
She steps back as Hildigrim fires off his questions, nodding along and listening quietly. She shakes her head as he addresses the rest of the party. "All good on my end."
"The Black Fist has been barred from investigating Krulek and his minions - and, as you can see," Aleyd says, motioning to the paperwork she's been working through, "There is no shortage of reports that we are investigating."
"If the Lord Regent decides to share with me his innermost thoughts on the situation, I will be sure to let you know," she says dryly.
"While on the surface their business may seem philanthropic, in the end it is all about coin. If they did not stand to make ransom money, the criminals in their jail would be released before you could finish a sneeze," she offers.
"Sylyra..." Aleyd says, tapping her chin, "Ah, yes, I do recognize the name. I believe he assisted me another time as well, investigating some attacks on villages along the Moonsea. Haughty, but a reliable sort." After scribbling some more notes on her paperwork, she looks back up. "Send him my best regards."
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
“Haughty? Sylyra? I would never have said that.” Auriel chuckled, picturing a pair of pointed elven ears burning at the mention of their owner’s name. With a sigh, he hoped the druid was doing well, wherever he might be.
After this, he nodded towards Knight Aleyd, waited for the others to finish and turned to leave.
Down, down, down by the river... ♫ Nessa | Saxa | Saoirse | Auriel | Chase | Shenua
Hildigrim hides his frustration with Aleyd’s apparent indifference to the growing threats, though he can’t fault her for remaining loyal to her superiors and choosing her battles. “Once again, thank you for your time,” he says with a tight smile. “We’ll do what we can to address the issues along the Iron Route. Perhaps, when these threats to the merchants are dealt with, it may ease some of your own burdens as well. Shall we stop by to update you when our mission is complete?” There’s not a hint of uncertainty in his tone, as if he has foreseen a positive outcome. "Also," he says as an afterthought, "I'd love to find out from whom I can attain permission to visit the Black Fist Records Hall."
Outside the outpost, Hildigrim breathes a contented sigh, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Now then, Navigator, which way to the prison?"
Almost immediately, Hildigrim sidles up beside Uragum, his eyes alight with scholarly curiosity as he begins peppering the goliath with questions about his past. The fact that Uragum is a wizard is absolutely fascinating to the halfling, who seems intent on learning everything he can about the war mage. And though Hildigrim could easily dominate any conversation, Uragum is able to answer each of his many questions without interruption.
As they talk, Hildigrim reveals that he has always had a keen interest in the arcane, though no innate talent for magic. His hometown, Thentia, a bustling Moonsea town east of Phlan, is home to the House of the Learned, an institution where wizards and arcane scholars gather to study, debate and teach. Despite not having a direct connection to the institution, Hildigrim alludes to intimate knowledge of its archives and resources — especially one of its most obscure libraries. His revelations serve to both draw Uragum out and supplement the wizard’s own story, showing genuine admiration without taking over the conversation.
Carl sidles up to Hildigrim and Uragum as they are walking and the talk turns to the arcane. There’s a glint in his eye as he listens to the stories, he becomes very interested in the libraries at Thentia, he leans forward so much there are a number of times that he almost loses his balance and bumps into the two as they are walking along. He shows Hildigrim his battle axe and recounts the story of his lost family heirloom. But as they are speaking about the library and the knowledge contained within, Carl seems like he’s mustering up his courage, then a look comes on his face, tightlipped and glancing around, he asks the question that he keenly seeks an answer to, feet hurrying along to hear the answer as he asks it.
“Hildigrim… and Uragum too, both of youns, have you… have you ever been in a library, maybe in a rare book section, fulla dark secrets… have you ever had a book… talk to you? I mean, not like a page turner or the words jumpin into your mind or nothin like that… but actually hear the book speak to you? Or, maybe, it wasn’t out loud, maybe it just speaks into your mind. Has that ever happened to you, in all of your travels, all of the libraries that you’ve been into?” Carl looks back and forth between them, hustling along with them at a fast walk.
Hildigrim's face brightens even more as Carl speaks. "I have visited many libraries. A few may have had dark secrets, though I am inexperienced with such — I have had little interest in dark magic. But a book that speaks? Hainard's hairy toes!" The halfling's voice is full of excitement. He turns and walks backwards so that he can face the dwarf, not wanting to miss anything. "Please, tell us more. What did the book look like? Where did you find it? Did you understand what it said? What did it say you to? Did anyone else hear the book? Did you read the book? What were its contents?"
"Well, you've seen the reward for Krulek, I assume. You'll certainly want to report that to somebody should you earn it, but it doesn't have to be me," Aleyd answers.
Her eyebrows raise at this notion. "Why, should you become a dutiful member of the Knights of the Black Fist, you would have unfettered permission," she says.
Braden Yil stands at the gate, outfitted for travel when the party arrives. "Well met," he extends. "I hope your audience was fruitful? The Black Fist hasn't proved particularly...informative for us of late."
After listening to the information you are willing to provide, he says, "Shall we begin our journey? We can simply hike along the river if you'd like, or perhaps charter a river barge to carry us. I can also hire horses if needed; House Cadorna would be willing to foot the bill."
OOC: Don't let the good RP be interrupted, just carrying us forward a bit while the conversation is ongoing.
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
Aleyd's eyebrows raise at the notion of giving access to the Records Hall to Hildigrim. "Why, should you become a dutiful member of the Knights of the Black Fist, you would have unfettered permission," she says.
At her invitation, Hildigrim gives a tight-lipped smile — polite but decidedly non-committal — making a mental note to try again later with someone further up the food chain. Perhaps the Lord Regent himself.
Braden Yil stands at the gate, outfitted for travel when the party arrives. "Well met," he extends. "I hope your audience was fruitful? The Black Fist hasn't proved particularly...informative for us of late."
“They’re just as tight-lipped with us, I’m afraid,” Hildigrim responds. “Not that they seem especially well-informed themselves.” A scowl crosses his face as he reflects on the conversation, but he shakes his head, sighs, and gives Braden a cordial smile. “I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Shall we take House Cadorna up on their offer of transportation?” He glances around at the others, awaiting their input.
After they leave the Black Fist outpost, Auriel walks along with the others, lost in his own thoughts. It’s Carl's voice that draws him back to the present, mentioning something about talking books. The words stir a memory—that night at the Laughing Goblin, when the dwarf spoke, half-drunkenly, of a family heirloom. A library. A book that had somehow spoken to him. And how he had sworn he’d give up his soul to recover his family's axe. Auriel glances at the trio as they converse, saying nothing, but closely following the discussion.
Once they reach the gate, Auriel returns Braden’s greeting, and when the topic of horses arises, his reddish-brown eyes light up. “If there’s a chance, I’d truly love to ride,” he says with a smile.
Down, down, down by the river... ♫ Nessa | Saxa | Saoirse | Auriel | Chase | Shenua
Hex walks alongside Auriel on their way back to meet Braden, watching Hildigrim, Uragum and Carl with a small smile on her face as they happily chat with each other. It wasn't a conversation she had much to offer in and so she kept quiet and listened instead, intrigued to learn more of the halfling's past.
At the gate, Hex doesn't seem to have much of opinion on how to reach their destination, happy to do whatever the rest of the party prefers. As Braden reveals House Cadorna would be willing to pay for the horses, however, she becomes much more enthusiastic. "I mean, I definitely won't say no to some horses. Especially if they're free."
As Braden arranges the chosen transportation and the others continue chatting among themselves, Auriel takes a quiet moment to speak with Hex. "I've been meaning to ask... are you all right? About Sylyra’s departure, I mean. I'm sorry I didn't ask sooner—I've been a little too caught up with everything at the Temple these past few days." He smiles gently and adds, "You don’t need to say anything if you’re not up to it, but I wanted to ask just in case you do."
Down, down, down by the river... ♫ Nessa | Saxa | Saoirse | Auriel | Chase | Shenua
Carl looks over at Hildigrim and smiles at his interest. “Yeah, it really blew me away when it happened. I was in our family’s library. Pa and also his pappy had been somethin of a collector, really that’s the wrong word, hoarder, maybe. Whenever they served and wielded their battle axe and hammer, they came home with treasures, trinkets, odds and ends. I never knew till then that they brought back books too, taken from who knows where. They were never much readers or the studious types, they were all about minin and smithin. Not my cup of tea. One day I was in the library looking through things, boxes of books, scanning the shelves and I found it. I was reasearchin… well, I’ll tell you more sometime about that later…”
”The book I found was covered with a strange kinda leather, dark, made from… somethin. Not leather, not hard, I dunno wha. It felt, almost .. spiny! I did understand the writing, but it was strange, I’m not sure how I understood it.. it.. spoke to me. In my mind, like. No one else was around me… but it seemed to speak directly into my mind. The words which seem most hazy now to me in my memory, spoke of a land called Avernus. Some of the details are all mixed up in my mind like. The voice spoke directly into my head, it seemed to know my thoughts and what I was looking for…”. Carl stops here and holds his hand to his chin, scratching his beard. His eyes have gone dark, as if recalling a memory from long ago. He gets quiet as they walk on..
“Maybe another time. After we’ve settled this business now. Thankee for askin. Feels good ta get it off my chest like.” He looks up at Uragum as they walk. “We’ve talked a little about this, but I feel like you both would know a little bit perhaps about this kinda thing… maybe… we could figure out what happened, understand it more..”. His head looks down at his feet now, doesn’t want to meet their eyes. “Sometimes… sometimes I still hear the voice. It keeps talking to me, from time to time. Sometimes it laughs at me. Mocks me. Sometimes, it … saves me.”
Carl walks on in silence, and after 30 steps or so he takes some deep breaths, looks up toward where they are headed, putting the thoughts behind him like the footsteps he leaves in his wake.
Hex looks at Auriel with surprise as he brings up Sylyra. She gives him a grateful smile, one that doesn't really meet her eyes, and shrugs. "Haha, you don't need to apologise, Auriel. I'm okay. Really, nothing to worry about! Like I said to Knight Aleyd, we've had more than a few people come and go. There's no point in dwelling on the past. He's gone now. I need to... I just need a bit of time to move on. We worked together for quite a while after all."
It's obvious she's trying to put on a brave face and appear nonchalant. For the most part, it works. Every now and then, however, some regret and guilt slips past the mask. Hex is silent for a moment, avoiding the paladin's gaze, before clearing her throat and looking back at him. "And what about you? I know you and Sylyra had a complicated thing going on. Are you alright?"
OOC: Loving the Carl backstory!
You leave Phlan on the back of healthy horses purchased by House Cadorna. Fog rolls in from the sea as you depart, quickly slowing progress to a crawl, but the journey is at least made more comfortable without your own feet doing the walking. You arrive just over three hours later, cold and soaked to the bone.
Grimshackle Jail clings like a drowning man to the rocky bank of the Stojanow River. Rotten timbers sag from the tower's walls, and its outbuildings stand in ruin. Rooks nest in the crenels of the tower's battlements.
Broad walls encircle the tower's base, where a large gate house exits onto the towpath. A slatted peephole is fitted at human eye level in the stout, iron-bound door.
See my profile for all my PbP threads!
Auriel’s gaze softens as he watches Hex trying—successfully, for the most part—to maintain a mask of composure. He gives her an understanding smile and says, “I see.” For a moment, it seems that’s all he’ll offer, but then he continues, “You know, one thing I still find curious about the Material Plane is how often people conceal their emotions. It was so different back home. Where I come from, people live by their emotions.” His expression drifts briefly, lost in memory, before he looks back at her. “But don’t take me wrong—I only mean to say that I find it… curious. You’ve seen us, we Eladrin are a peculiar folk!” Auriel chuckles slightly, gesturing to himself and his changeable hair, eyes, and tattoos. “and we tend to wear our feelings quite openly, most of the time." He pauses and then adds, "In any case, you’re right. There’s no point in dwelling on the past, and the fact that you follow those wise words, even when it’s hard, shows your strength.”
When the tiefling returns the question to him, he takes a moment to reply. “A complicated thing, hmm?” he muses. “To be honest, I’m not even sure there was anything, at least not in the way I imagined. It’s strange because it sometimes felt like we had a lot in common, but then we were worlds apart. I’ve thought about it several times, and the only conclusion I’ve reached is that if something is that complicated, then ... it’s probably not meant to be.” Auriel offers a faint smile and a slight shrug after saying this, indicating he doesn't know how to express himself any better.
After this, Auriel changes topics and nods toward Carl, saying softly, "He worries me. I hope Uragum and Hildigrim can help him make something out of what he's told them."
Later, when Braden returns with the horses, the paladin’s face brightens with a wide smile. He steps forward to his horse, gently running his hand along its neck. As he does this, memories flood back of a life filled with more frequent rides—an activity he had always loved. Spring washes over Auriel, and he murmures softly to the animal, "Mae g'ovannen, mellon. A hannon le, na viro?"
"Hello, friend. Shall we travel together for a while?"
As they ride toward the prison, Auriel finds joy even in the rain and cold. Several times during the journey, he leans down to brush his fingers against the tall herbs lining the path, savoring the simple pleasure of their texture as he rides.
A little bit like this :D
By the time they reach the prison, Spring has yielded to Autumn, yet the Eladrin still wears a smile on his face despite being soaked to the bone.
Down, down, down by the river... ♫ Nessa | Saxa | Saoirse | Auriel | Chase | Shenua
Hildigrim marches backward as Carl tells his story. He nods occasionally and smiles quite a lot, encouraging the dwarf to continue his tale. Follow-up questions begin to queue in his halfling mind as Carl switches gears and begins talking about the present rather than the past.
“Sometimes… sometimes I still hear the voice. It keeps talking to me, from time to time. Sometimes it laughs at me. Mocks me. Sometimes, it … saves me.”
At this, Hildigrim's face immediately darkens, his usual enthusiasm tempered by a look of profound thought. "Carl," he begins in a steady, cautious voice, "do you have the book with you now? Or has it … found another place to hide itself?"
OOC: Fast forward to the horses ...
Hildigrim suppresses a flash of frustration as he realizes no one thought to offer him a pony. It was his own fault for not mentioning it, after all, so he bravely asks one of the taller adventurers for a lift onto the horse’s back. It isn’t the first time he’s been hoisted like a child, nor, he suspects, will it be the last. Little of the world is designed with his stature in mind, but he’s long since learned to manage.
Once settled atop the horse, he adjusts his breeches with a tug, determined to sit astride rather than sidesaddle. He does his best to recall the snippets he’s read about horsemanship — scattered bits of knowledge clouded now by a nagging apprehension. It’s one of the few times he's been on a horse, and the unknown looms as large as the creature beneath him. This could go any number of ways.
Carl turns and sees the look on Hildigrim’s face, his expression grows rather blank. He readjusts his pack on his back, adjusting the shoulder straps. “Hmmm? Ummm, no, not that one. Back in my Pa’s library. I think.” He stares straight ahead as he’s walking. “I have some other books, would love to hear about magic you’ve come across. Hummmm, looks like we have some ridin to do!” He readjusts his belt and pants, getting ready to depart. “Don’t have any balm for my nether regions. Hope I don’t get saddle sores. Nothing worse than a sore bum.”
Carl makes small talk for the rest of the ride, listening carefully, but not offering anything further at this point.
There's a flitter of relief in Hex's eyes at Auriel's response. She understood what he was trying to say, that she shouldn't be so afraid to show her true feelings, and she agreed to a certain extent. She just didn't want to bring down the mood with her little pity party. Still, it was nice to actually talk about how she had been feeling. She was also glad that he really did seem okay with Sylyra's departure despite their complicated relationship.
As Auriel changes topic to Carl, she looks over to the dwarf and nods, her eyes and voice mirroring the same softmess as Auriel. "Yeah, me too..." Her interest had been piqued when Carl mentioned Avernus. She knew of the city, that it had something to do with the Hells and tieflings, but that was about it. She wished she knew more and could help him but she left that task to the more magically inclined and knowledgeable members of their party instead.
During the ride to Grimshackle prison, Hex can't help but be incredibly relieved that they chose to go by horseback instead of walking. Making the journey on foot in with the fog would've been hell. By the end, Hex is a bit of a shivering mess, unable to hold back her sneezes. "Urgh. The cold never suited me."
Hildigrim clamps his mouth shut, his eyes lingering on the dwarf a few beats longer before he turns back to their path. There’s clearly more to this tale, he muses, but they've known each other for barely an hour. Best to let Carl reveal things at his own pace — too much prying might do more harm than good. They have a mission ahead, and, with any luck, it will yield further insight into the Cult of the Dragon’s activities. But a book that mocks as well as aids? That smacks of dark magic, for sure. Perhaps he’s entered into a pact — a warlock’s pact. Carl seems innocent enough, yet Hildigrim resolves to keep a close eye on him, watching for anything that might suggest trickery … or worse.
On the trail, riding so high off the ground, Hildigrim finds that he manages well enough. His horse is steady and well-trained, and though the ride is damp and chilly, it’s uneventful even under the cloak of fog. By the time they near the jail, Hildigrim has let his glasses slide to the end of his nose, preferring a blurred view over wiping off water droplets every few steps. His brown hair clings damply to his neck, his clothes soaked and sticking to his skin. But the sight of the tower lifts his spirits. He meticulously cleans his glasses, places them back on his nose, and peers up and around, examining the structure as best he can through the mist. “Not in very good repair, it seems,” he observes, half to himself, with a touch of disapproval.