( Quinn can throw a hooded cloak on but otherwise is.....a little noticeable yes.

I'm happy to move both duos to where they need to be......

Assuming they make it there in one piece......

11

94

)

( Oh.)

(I‘m all good for moving ahead! Although also terrified.  Did the DM just say “Oh.”? That can’t be good guys. :| (lol!))

(I'm good with proceeding on to when we split up.) 

(OOC: Also happy to move to the next morning)

The four friends left the inn and headed east through the streets before separating, Normont and Quinn headed toward the palace and Lokalia and Dev headed south towards Glinnicks.

Normont and Quinn headed back to the palace they didn't recognize the young guards on the door but they had obviously been told to expect them and waved them in.

The same liveried young man from the previous day guided them through the palace through rooms that Normont hadn't seen before before they arrived in a small parlor, a woman stood within looking out the window her long grey-brown hair piled atop her head with streaks of white, she was dressed in a velvet dress and sable coat.

She placed her tea down on the table amongst the teacakes and honey biscuits.

" Normont and..Quinn, pleased to make your acquaintance."

*******************************************************************************************

Dev and Lokalia made their way carefully south not yet in their disguises...magical or animal...but as they exited the Common Ward Devs keen street senses noted they had picked up a tail...no three tails....he didn't recognize any of them but that didn't mean much with what they knew of their enemies. 

Stay on the street or make for the alleys? There was an orcish man ahead with a handcart...they'd need to decide before they reached there...

******************************************************************************************

Progo was rearranging his hand wagon, he'd lost some of his merchandise when those Ravagers had attacked him just outside Turst Field but there was still enough to turn a tidy profit....or at least there should have been...he'd heard Whitestone was a merchants dream but when he got here it seemed no one wanted to do business...it was almost as if the buyers and onsellers were...afraid...

He wiped his face with his hand and looked up to see a young scarlet tiefling and an elf walking towards him, then his keen eyes noted their shadows.....the young couple could be in for some trouble....probably just a mugging...but who knows....

*****************************************************************************************

Darkness, wet and cold.......but not as cold as those slick probing fingers....he shuddered at the recollection...

Werhann found it hard to determine how long he had been here, he was lying on stone......granite with feldspar inclusions...and tiny veins of Whitestone so likely not too far from home...with the hood over his head it was hard to tell more than what his fingers could reveal..

There was a coldness in him, and not just from the chill of the moist stone....whoever that had been had...placed...something in him....something that....coiled....

Metal on metal...the door bolt...someone was coming....maybe there would be food...or more beatings.....anything but those cold slick fingers.....were they fingers?

Normont quietly follows the liveried man as he leads him and Quinn through the palace, and finds himself a little speechless when they finally arrive in the parlour and are confronted with the lady. It was not exactly like meeting his hero, Lord Percy de Rolo, but it was close.

"The...ahem", he starts, but his voice falters and he has to clear his throat. "The honour is ours, Lady de Rolo. We...I am grateful that you agreed to meet with us. And I have to admit, as it turns out things are far more urgent than I thought when I asked to speak with you", he manages to say, his confidence building as the sentence goes on, ending with a sense of urgency.

He stands and rests a hand on Maggie to steady himself whilst he waits for Lady de Rolo to respond. Amber is perched on his shoulder, cocking her head to the side as she regards the Lady in front of them.

Dev’s eyes are huge when he faces forward again after surreptitiously looking back over his shoulder, pretending to glare at a stranger who passed close by.

“Oh no!,” the teen tiefling moans softly to Lokilia. “We’re being followed! I thought we’d at least be able to get to Glinnick’s before we had to worry about trouble! If we were in an alley I could pull us quickly away from them but it’s too open here,” he darts a quick glance at his friend, trying not to tip his cards to those behind him.

“What should we do??”

He’ll instantly follow anything Lokilia suggests.

Ah potential customers who clearly are concerned for thier safety and what better way to find safety then with some tested and proven armor or weapons! And who best to aquire said supplies from? Well Progo himself of course. "Well greetings to you kind strangers, welcome to Progo's supply depot. Inventory is a bit on the light side at the current moment but Progo has a way of finding what you need. You two look like you could use a thing or three. Come look at what Progo has to offer, cost nothing to look at or perhaps a request for a small deposit."

Progo was rather spindly for a half orc, tall and lean. He wasn't intimidating to look at, but a keen eye would spot he is slightly muscular dispitehis build. A sore point through the middle aged half-orc life. He was almost as strong as most of his tribesmen but was generally half their size, no matter how much effort the put in, he just wouldn't bulk up.  He was taller then most half-orcs and had a non stereotypical mustache. He wears a  a simple vest and well worn with loose flowy pants with a wide sash at the top of them. He's face had a large scar going acrossed it with 2 smaller scars on either side of it.  His keeps hair short, all but the top of his head and styling it to almost a point like a horn. He was a simple salesman now, and not a very good one as his attire and sad excuse for a cart would suggest, but clearly wasn't always one.

Progo notices the one with horns keeps looking back behind them as if expecting trouble. He squints his eyes a bit in this low light. "Is there trouble?" He reaches to his wears and grabs a raiper off the top of cart and starts reaching for a shield hanging off the side.

Lokilia tries not to show any alarm when Dev reveals they are being tailed. Likely with little time, she gives the orcish-looking man an appraising look. While he appears tall and lean, she notes the muscle and the scars. "Let's stay on the street," she says to the tiefling, even as the half-orc starts speaking to them. "Surely they won't try anything in the open with this stranger here." 

She had somewhat ignored the bit of a sales pitch but does try to respond. "Yea, perhaps we could use something. What do you have?" she murmurs. 

Werhann passes his fingers along the stone's surface again. The coarse, volcanic feel. Must be granite. Granite is a good stone, very strong and also very receptive. Found in areas rich with iron, it'll be coloured red. Mica? An orange hue. Whitestone? Must be white, but it doesn't take an expert - or a Dwarf - to tell. Feldspar, also a good stone. Far more appliances than granite, but perhaps not in construction. Also more common.

These types of thoughts have occluded Werhann's mind recently, as they are the only ones he can hang onto that aren't related to... those fingers. There's really not much else he can do. While he's alone, he fiddles with a small blade between his fingers sometimes. He shouldn't have it, but he does. Whenever he reaches to search for his firearm - a habit, more than anything else - he finds something that shouldn't be there. But even if he could use them to break free, which isn't so simple, what then? If he could just overpower his captors, he wouldn't have been here in the first place... probably. Even worse, if he's caught trying, will the - he shudders at the thought - will the fingers return? No, he must wait for an opportunity. He is trained to endure, so that's what he'll do. For as long as he can.

When he hears the sound of metal on metal, he wills the blade away. He didn't know that would happen the first time, but he's almost used to the feeling by now. He mustn't be caught holding onto such things, lest the fingers return.

"Progo thinks you will find just what you are looking for! Something for every occasion." He almost puts the raiper back down with the rest of his wares but after his last two altercations, and knowing these two were watching out for something, he thought it best to keep something more on himself. He slides the raiper into the sash around his waist. "Sometimes the road jumbles Progo's cart, Progo will fix, feel free to look." (If the general light is great where Progo is, he will light a torch). He starts to lay out the variety of weapons that had been thrown about. Inside the cart was 2 barrels with a variety of handles sticking out a variety of weapons. It would be apparent that nothing looks new and some items were more used then others. A crossbow with a makeshift handle, a spear with a wrapped shaft, a curved blade with a notch chiped out. He had a handfull of daggers different shapes and sizes, 2 shortbows with a handful of arrows and bolts bunched together. 2 shields hang off the side of the cart. Anything 'nice' Progo had had either already sold or more likely been stolen. "Progo has some armor and cloaks and the like too underneath if that's more what you are looking for." He was still trying to make his ware easier to see as he looks back at the approaching customers. "Is there something in particular you are interested in?"

Dev walks side by side with Lokilia to the seller and the seller’s cart, trying not to quicken his step in anxiety, but Lokilia can easily read the fear in his set jaw and rapid breathing. When they reach the cart and Progo offers his wares, a sudden disassociative part of the young bard’s mind focuses on the clothes under the cart. “I really could use a new pair of calf laces,” he hears his own eerie voice say, as, almost automatically, he thinks of his old, tattered red-sequined magic slippers. But his heart is thumping in his ears and he’s pulled back to the present, fearful of the arcane power and utter confidence of the messenger who visited the prior morning. Faint yellow lightning traces around the teen tiefling’s horns, a tight devilish smile curls his lip, and Lokilia and Progo hear, faintly at first as if approaching from a distance, a pulsing rhythm with a cracking back-beat. (Minor Illusion)

Dev walks side by side with Lokilia to the seller and the seller’s cart, trying not to quicken his step in anxiety, but Lokilia can easily read the fear in his set jaw and rapid breathing. When they reach the cart and Progo offers his wares, a sudden disassociative part of the young bard’s mind focuses on the clothes under the cart. “I really could use a new pair of calf laces,” he hears his own eerie voice say, as, almost automatically, he thinks of his old, tattered red-sequined magic slippers. But his heart is thumping in his ears and he’s pulled back to the present, fearful of the arcane power and utter confidence of the messenger who visited the prior morning. Faint yellow lightning traces around the teen tiefling’s horns, a tight devilish smile curls his lip, and Lokilia and Progo hear, faintly at first as if approaching from a distance, a pulsing rhythm with a cracking back-beat. (Minor Illusion)

(OOC - Had meant to describe my character in the last post...) 

The young elvish-looking woman stands just over five feet tall. She is dressed in a loose-fitting light blue tunic with darker tan pants. On her feet are rugged fur-lined boots and surrounding her is a bluish-grey cloak with a tan trim and lined with a fine red cloth inside. The hood is pushed back, showing her very light blonde hair, which has a bit of a wind-swept look to it. She has bright amber eyes and a few light freckles run across the bridge of her nose, accenting her fair complexion. She carries a wooden staff that seems to be carved with various symbols and has a number of pouches that hang from her belt. There is a small wooden shield at her back along with her backpack. 

Lokilia glances at the man's wares, not really wanting to tip off that they know of their tails. She answers the half-orc hesitantly, "At the moment, we're looking for protection."