“Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call’d him soft names in many a musèd rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath”
-John Keats, Ode to a Nightingale
“--and the undertaker said ‘Well, he had both eyes when he fell in!’” Duchess Morwen falls back in her chair, laughing at her own joke, as those crowded around the ten meter long dining table before her join in. The wine, a dark red vintage produced locally here in Daggerford, is rich and flows freely. Those in attendance are deep in their glasses, and the topics of conversation and jest have grown darker and more grotesque with each passing hour.
Duchess Morwen of Daggerford is having guests for dinner - and you have been invited. No strangers to Daggerford, you have come to the town’s defense on more than one occasion, and you count Lady Morwen as a friend and a benefactor.
The duchess lifts her delicate cigarette holder, fitted with a deep brown smoke, and three lighters appear instantly to administer a flame. Leaning into the nearest, she draws in a breath. The dried tobacco catches, crackling pleasantly as a heady corona of smoke encompasses her. Inhaling deeply, she releases the smoke in a puff as her dark eyes survey the table. The Duchess Morwen is known to be a formidable figure in Daggerford, in both business and politics, and has garnered a reputation that some might describe as ruthless. A woman of sufficient age to command a room, but not so old as to become undesirable, her gaze is penetrative, and as she stares at each guest in turn the effect is not unlike that of a dragon appraising its horde.
A serving man approaches the hall and whispers urgently in the duchess’s ear. She suddenly grows solemn, as though struck by a revelation. Taking a nervous puff from her cigarette, she taps her glass with a dessert spoon. “I’m afraid our topic of conversation grows serious, my dear friends. Facts have become known to me that require our immediate attention.” A pall comes over the occasion as every head in the room turns toward her. “It seems a band of wayward travelers has camped outside the town’s walls. Although seemingly harmless at first, I have received reports that they have begun harassing townsfolk and other visitors to Daggerford as they pass, demanding money and wine, and threatening to put hexes on anyone who doesn’t pay them.”
A series of dismayed gasps erupt, but the duchess raises her hand to instill calm. “Yet this is not unknown to me. Earlier today, I ordered several guards to scare away the mysterious visitors, but I have now been informed that they couldn’t get the job done. When the guards returned tonight, they spoke sympathetically about these visitors. It seems as if… as if the guards have been magically charmed.”
Murmurs, even cries, erupt from the gathered guests. “Imprison them!” ... “Bind them in the stockades!” ...“Witches, the lot of them--burn them at the stake!” It seems the wine and lurid stories have dragged even the educated and sophisticated into the trenches of hysteria.
“Clearly, more stringent actions need be taken.” She turns to you. “Alessandra, Edlanar, Sezsu, Zied. You have proven yourselves capable in more than one respect. We don’t want an armed conflict, goodness no. Yet our aim should be to send a… a stern message to these visitors. I would request that you deliver, this very night, a message on behalf of the Duchess Morwen of Daggerford.” The rooms falls quiet in anticipation of her declaration.
She takes a slow puff from her cigarette “If they don’t leave before dawn,” she says, exhaling smoke with each word, “I’ll burn their wagons to the ground.”
Zied had spent the evenings dinner taking small nibbles, and hoping his refusal to drink alcohol did not dismay or generate discontent. Zied simply preferred the clarity of water, clarified further still with his own small tricks. Purity of composition tasted good. The macabre stories and inside humour of the dinner did not pale his composition. Zied was no stranger to rather violent occurances-both in sight and in experience...
Tonight Zied put some effort into his clothing; gone was his normal equipment-illsuited for a formal dinner to be armed and ready. Tonight he simply had his small satchel of alchemical items in case of emergency. No tonight Zied dressed in a way he rarely has in recent life; a fine tailored vest accompanied by hewed and hemmed shirt and briches. His precious clockwork time piece fashioned sturdy with chain to his lapel and safely abscond within his inner vest pocket. His hair-typically white, tonight was dyed an approriate colour for the event, as he wore small copper wire framed glasses, nof often seen, these glasses were well worn, showing faded marks and metal fatigue from human oil s over the years. He wore a deep purple poncho and scarf-both showing signs of hand made, and showing constant repair and ware from years of use. Left folded but within his eyesight.
Zied's s mall talk was just that, small. He used to be better at this sort of thing, interpersonal relationships, chit chat, liking people. All that came much harder these days through his more muted point of view. Still, it was nice to be wanted, and the cook clearly understood the concept of seasoning.
At the Duchess's resquest, Zied took to mean a formal request, no mention of reward-to build his savings for his research and goal, but whether reward comes later, or the reward was simply building further trust and confidence of those in power. He had little reason to refuse such a request, yet he did require clarifications. "I see, that request can be fulfilled. I request a point of clarification-Sternly worded, or sternly forced, or simply up to our descrition as long as bloodshed is not the result? A simple option-Leave, or face a cost in the morning. Correct?" Removing a small notepad formed of parchment, cut into strips and woven together, Zied sketches out the request for his own records; as he awaits his coworker's adherence, refusal, or comments.
Alessandra answered to Duchess with a polite smile, not adding any questions yet. Her ...ambiguous position still made her feel a bit - may be not uncomfortable but inconvenienced? She preferred when others from their small group were talking, leaving an illusion as if she just accompanied them out of curiosity. Alessa had a feeling other guests here would prefer so see it this way too. In curious looks she was catching all the evening, behind the curiosity sat a clear disapproval and she was wandering when - if ever - it will change to if not a respect, then at least fear.
Evenings like this reminded her too vividly of what she had left behind and though she was dressed to the occasion, not sure if she was invited as part of the hunting team or a visiting noble (come to think of it - very unlikely), the dress alone could not patch the growing split between her and her former circles.
Alessa's best gown - her only gown to be precise - was not meant for dealing with bandits of any kind, but half-expecting the request, she brought all she needed with her and was sure the order (as friendly as it sounded it was an order) was that urgent that she could not change. She was just waiting for the details to excuse herself to the dressing room.
The duchess smiles. “My dear Zied, your understanding is correct. Of course, if these ruffians draw their weapons against you, you should defend yourself. But if we can be rid of them without spilling blood, so much the better. They should know that my threat is serious.”
The guests have grown quiet, whispering among themselves as they hear out the exchange.
She taps her cigarette into a silver ashtray. “I am curious, however, as to why they’ve come. I would be ever grateful if you would investigate their origin and the reason they’ve appeared. If they are part of a larger group, it may be that they are organized. Perhaps there is a leader who is seeking to stake a claim in the province of Daggerford. I should like to know. You won’t fail me in this, will you? I assume you’ve brought your weapons? If not, the guards can outfit you well enough. Of course I shall see that your efforts are rewarded.”
"The group is always armed," Alessa continued to smile politely and as if a bit of "bystander way". "But are they really so mysterious? Should we know the true mystery visited the town we would probably go there on our own, out of pure curiosity."(She used "we" - after all, she was going openly there anyway) "If you excuse me, the meeting with the mystery requires some preparations."Alessandra put away her still half full glass of wine, stood up, smiled to the guests and moved deeper into the house to change.
As the Duchess halts the conversation, "...but I told her I was just doing it ironically," is heard whispered a bit too loudly. With a sigh and an eyeroll, Sezsu turns from his conversation with Edlanar to pointedly look just attentive enough as the request was made of them.
"Are you sure the guards weren't simply lacking resolve? This hardly seems like something worth spoiling a perfectly good dinner party over. And certainly not something that would require the skills of our group, no? Aren't there...better guards to be had or something?"
Since they'd been back in his home town, Edlanar had been able to spend some quality time with his family, oh had he missed his sisters, not the little girls that he had such fond memories of - both were married and had children of their own now, and 'Uncle Ed' was always a welcome visitor to either of their homes. They had all been so proud of his work in the area, and the fondness of the duchess to Ed and his companions had given them all a little bump in their social circles. His sisters had once again taken far too much time fussing and fawning over him to help him 'look his best' for the dinner this evening.
He'd turned up to the dinner in pseudo military attire, the cut of his clothes very similar, but just toned down enough that he was clearly not visting under his formal rank in as a Knight of the Silver Sun. The jacket hung well on his broad shoulders, and the marks of his rank were embroidered into the lapel, rather than worn on his sleeve. "Edlanar Holbrook" the elder of the pair, Kelsifer, has told him amidst much finger wagging, "If you're dining in the presence of the duches you'll make sure she see's that you clean up rught! All that time you spend with them that don't have much rubs off on you too often and you forget you're a man of both cloth and steel.
Edlanar was crushed to have the evening disrupted in such a fashion. He had particularly enjoyed the starter that evening, and the duchess was in her usual good form with her witticisms and jokes. Ah well, such was their lot now and whilst his service to Lathander still came first over everything else, this was a service to Daggerford, and by virtue of his family living there it was also a service to them, and he supposed since pshe was asking, then the duchess would appreciate it to... Yes, it was definitely a useful undertaking, "Never fear Duchess, perhaps a word of encouragement to find alternate encampments is all we'll need. I'm sure they are perfectly reasonable fellows, and just in need of some coin before moving along of their own accord. I'm sure we can handle the matter without any bloodshed." His words would sound naïve to most of those assembled at the Duchess' abode tonight, but to Alessa, Sezsu and Zied it was just another way that Ed's optimistic outlook poked it's head into every situation, no matter how dire. "Though if you had a chain shirt or similar to hand, I didn't foresee the smell of my armor being acceptable around the dinner table."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Pausing briefly at his allies inquiry inputs, Zied takes a moment to himself-chewing on something small, then, follows along with the fact that not everyon readily carries things with them. "Well, if we are permitted to borrow items, then borrowing some armour, perhaps ones representing The Duchess and thus proving our authority as representitives to their leader to further carry weight to our firmly worded suggestions that they relocate to another area, and perhaps find work as opposed to requesting community resources. " Zied opiones and requests a requisition of supplies of higher quailty than they typically paired with. WIth the intention that perhaps it can be bundled into their reward post completion with some sly negotations. After all, the Duchess is making such a grand declaration in front of noble guests, it would be a gracious chance for her to flaunt her wealth and power to them in such a d isplay.
Zied was never one for social politics, but he had certainly listend to her complain over a refreshing warmed spiced mead about the politics of her work enough times that he gained an understanding. Once again she improved his life, without ever realizing. All the more reason to keep his working towards his goals. Regardless of how much he may have to play nice. (For clarity's sake the second paragraph is not referring to the duchess.)
GM note below; in case this statement requires a roll
If you need a roll, let me know. I would be applying Guidance and my Racial bonus to this. As he took a moment to chew his guidance pill, and memories of Her helped him navigage)19+4+5+Whatever Skil or Tool you think is approraite. Just let me know if I did need to roll or not; so I can toggle used resources)
Morwen smiles as Alessa exits the room. "Such a professional, that one," she remarks. "Her, as well?" asks a guest. “Oh yes. Do not be deceived, Clairwen.” the duchess whispers proudly. “You’ve heard of scholars and gentlemen. Well, that one’s a mercenary and a lady.”
“Oh, Sezsu,” the duchess pouts toward the young man. “You know the guards are capable. That they have returned the task unperformed clearly suggests it calls for, mmm, special talent. I do abhor to interrupt dessert. It’s a black forest cake! However, I promise you that if you succeed I’ll ask the chef to prepare another. Just for you. Doesn’t that sound capital?”
She lights up at Edlanar's agreement and Zied's proposal. “Yes, of course. A grand idea!” She sits up, clearly excited. “Raymord!” A butler steps forward precisely when called. “Please see to it that these four… my special ones… are adequately outfitted for this task?”
Raymord bows, extending a white-gloved hand toward the door through which Alessa exited. “Gentlemen.”
(The duchess is happy to loan you common weapons, light, or medium armor up to 500gp in value, on strict condition that you return these items to her armory upon completion of this mission).
"Our thanks to you good lady, a set of armor from your stores would be most appreciated, and I suppose a suitable blade would make sense, just in case they aren't entirely reasonable folks. We shall endeavour to bring your equipment back to you unblemished and very much un-used."
Sezsu smiles self-consciously. "Well, black forest cake is my favorite..." He might actually be blushing, although it's hard to tell with his skintone.
He stands and straightens the front of his robes. "With your blessing, Your Grace, I'll join the others and provide ample reason for these louts to move on to darken other doorsteps."
Bowing briskly, Sezsu turns on his heel to follow the others.
(Not sure if we're going to walk through the armory but Sezsu would happily don a breastplate with the Duchess' emblem for this.)
It did not take that long for Alessa to change into her "working" clothes (months of practice helped) but she came to the meeting point outside the last (Grano saw to it, that she would not have wait for others - rules are rules, after all). "In the fields" she prefer black: black perfectly crafted outfit (the best quality money can buy), complete with black and no less perfectly made long cloak - style and practicality in a complete harmony. Grano - her miniature black owl - looked like a fitting accessory on her shoulder.
"Let's see those mysterious ruffians?" She only glanced at the new armor the group was wearing - smart move! - and just in case (they could be friendly with guards, but it's better to be prepared) summoned the magical armor as well. She was ready to move to the site of danger.
With a twist of his wrist, his folded poncho flairs open spinning briefly wide open before settling around his shoulders. Zied tosses his rucksack over his shoulder giving the attendees a polite bow and thus excusing himself from the festivities to head off for equipement. Within the armory Zied opts to borrow a Breastplate for himself. This piece of armour is one he's been curious about for some time now but unaware of how it would actually feel or work with his particular needs. Taking a brief respite to double check the straps, fit his shield-previously tied to his rucksack, to his belt ready to slot upon his left arm if need be. Zied lightly fingers the ring upon his hand, promising himself its all a step towards his goal.
"Likely drunkards who have no employment or home. Any of you know any small hamlets around? They're often looking for an influx of new blood into the villages, if they're willing to work in th fields and settle down. A recommendation letter- and a firm warning against causing a ruckus, and we might be able to relocate them without trouble." express Zied, hoping that it would truly be so simple. A handful of folks could be placed but a small caravan likely could not be easily placed. Regardless the very real threat to their homesteads the Baronness expressed will motivate them, or agitate them. Mayhap both.
Edlanar sifts through the armory, rapping on plate and shaking out chain. He digs out a gambeson that seems large enough for him, and requests aid from one of the others in tightening the straps of a breast plate, offering the same service for those that needed it. There was always something Ed had liked about putting on his armor, perhaps it was because donning armaments had a sense of purpose to it, it wasn't something you did 'just because'. He hefted a few blades before settling on a servicable long sword, the edge keen and no fancy ornamenting on the hilt. Missing his own sheild, Ed straps one onto his arm, sheates the blade, and pats himself down with a few hard blows on his chest, making sure the impact spreads evenly and there are no catches or edges that might cause issue under a serious blow.
"I'm no woodsman, but I know the town and the area surrounding. Let's see what these folk are like and then we can help them get where they should be. Mayhap they would prefer the trek up to Waterdeep if they are industrious enough. A few sensible words should be all that we need on this fine evening."
Sezsu rolls his eyes. "That's such a you thing to say, Ed. These fools are most likely opportunistic grifters. They won't respond to sense as they create their own that serves their purposes as they go. But indulge if you must. I'm sure, at the end of the day, we'll have to demonstrate that their opportunities here are severely limited to the point of nonexistence and that inhabitants elsewhere will be much easier prey."
He grunts as he fits himself into an identical breastplate and happily accepts the help in adjusting and tightening it.
"A bit more restrictive than I'm used to but I'm sure the visible notes of Her Grace's authority will be worth the discomfort."
"Ah, Sezsu, if it wasn't a me thing to say then it would make even less sense in me saying it. Give everyone a fair chance, and then whatever they do with it is on them. If you assume these people are bad to begin with, how can you make a fair judgement?" Ed tightens the last strap for Sezsu and gives him a firm 'pat' on his breast plate. "A fair fit."
Approaching Daggerford’s gate, you note the presence of guards up on the wall, keeping watch.
The lonely road, it winds and wends its way westward. A cool autumn breeze pushes you along your way. The blazing orange leaves of nyssa sylvatica trees line the path, nearly obscuring it. The path skirts the edge of a derelict split-rail fence before shying away, rolling carelessly down a hill and crossing the tepid waters of what might be called a stream.
There, nestled by the water, you find them. The travelers are camped on the hill outside the gates of Daggerford, near the road.
In the ever-darkening evening, you see a dozen men and women gathered around a crackling bonfire. The folk are in good spirits. A few of them sing and dance around the fire while others find happiness in their flasks and wineskins. Three barrel-topped wagons are parked at odd angles. Tied to a nearby tree, grazing, are half a dozen draft horses wearing bright coats with bangles and tassels.
As you approach, one of the men steps forward fearlessly. “Greetings!” he says, his voice spiced with an exotic accent. “Welcome, friends! I am Stanimir. Come, come!” He gestures towards other members of the camp. “This is my daughter, Damia, and my son, Ratka.” Nine other travelers look on, drinking and laughing. "You will drink with us!"
The walk was even pleasant - soft autumn evening, the surrounding trees of all the shades of dying fire... Alessa caught a bright red leaf and was now twirling it in her fingers - one bright spot against her night black attire.
The merry celebration they came to took her aback - on one hand, yes, they were indeed vagabonds, drifters, the type that settlers of any kind are always suspicious about - and for a good reason too. But on the other... When one can see that happy ever-travelers so close, hear their songs and laughter, it is hard to believe all that stories about stolen children, cursed respectful town-folk or even lesser crimes, like theft. Still, the appearance could be (and should, if the stories were remotely true) deceitful.
Alessandra kept a bit behind, studying Stanimir and his daughter from the distance and hoping that official emblems on the armor of her companions will attract more attention than her simple black clothes. She both did not want to be a barer of a bad news and preferred to had a good vantage in case it will be needed. (Not to mention, did not plan to drink anything here)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
The view of happy festival air was in fact, roughly what Zied was expecting. They're drifters without much work, or mayhap travling show cases. Often what reaches the "top brass" is an exageration of the theme. The matter of the previous guard's "failure" has some questions that linger within Zied's mind. Yet that wasn't something to figure out through mulling, it would have to come from these follks.
Looking at his companions briefly, to see if any felt like taking the lead. As well as preparing himself by taking stock of their clothes, horses and wagons, Zied calls out a hail, "Good evening, I'm sorry I don't partake much these days. Well met, although perhaps under better circumstances. We're here on business. That can wait, however. I'm Zied, I'm a bit of a Odd-Job adventurer" Zied holds out his hand to shake Stanimir's if he abides, giving a firm but non agressive grip, "Where are you folks from? It looks like you're a caravan. Are you a traveling show, or are you looking for a forever home to settle near?"
Zied attempts to put his best food forward, as he wants to get their story and figure out how best to convience them to move on. They aren't here as enforcers-Yet, there is no reason for Zied not to listen to their story
GM In case of a roll
Persuasian(I assume?)+Guidance (done prior to calling out while he was looking at his cohorts) 11+4 I sure hope you weren't going to require a roll~ or that someone Helps haha
[ooc] Also, Is there food? Zied has his cooking tool set in his backpack. Not much food. But depending on how the conversation goes, he has some temptation of cookery[/ooc] correction cook tools are stored away
“Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call’d him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath”
-John Keats, Ode to a Nightingale
“--and the undertaker said ‘Well, he had both eyes when he fell in!’” Duchess Morwen falls back in her chair, laughing at her own joke, as those crowded around the ten meter long dining table before her join in. The wine, a dark red vintage produced locally here in Daggerford, is rich and flows freely. Those in attendance are deep in their glasses, and the topics of conversation and jest have grown darker and more grotesque with each passing hour.
Duchess Morwen of Daggerford is having guests for dinner - and you have been invited. No strangers to Daggerford, you have come to the town’s defense on more than one occasion, and you count Lady Morwen as a friend and a benefactor.
The duchess lifts her delicate cigarette holder, fitted with a deep brown smoke, and three lighters appear instantly to administer a flame. Leaning into the nearest, she draws in a breath. The dried tobacco catches, crackling pleasantly as a heady corona of smoke encompasses her. Inhaling deeply, she releases the smoke in a puff as her dark eyes survey the table. The Duchess Morwen is known to be a formidable figure in Daggerford, in both business and politics, and has garnered a reputation that some might describe as ruthless. A woman of sufficient age to command a room, but not so old as to become undesirable, her gaze is penetrative, and as she stares at each guest in turn the effect is not unlike that of a dragon appraising its horde.
A serving man approaches the hall and whispers urgently in the duchess’s ear. She suddenly grows solemn, as though struck by a revelation. Taking a nervous puff from her cigarette, she taps her glass with a dessert spoon. “I’m afraid our topic of conversation grows serious, my dear friends. Facts have become known to me that require our immediate attention.” A pall comes over the occasion as every head in the room turns toward her. “It seems a band of wayward travelers has camped outside the town’s walls. Although seemingly harmless at first, I have received reports that they have begun harassing townsfolk and other visitors to Daggerford as they pass, demanding money and wine, and threatening to put hexes on anyone who doesn’t pay them.”
A series of dismayed gasps erupt, but the duchess raises her hand to instill calm. “Yet this is not unknown to me. Earlier today, I ordered several guards to scare away the mysterious visitors, but I have now been informed that they couldn’t get the job done. When the guards returned tonight, they spoke sympathetically about these visitors. It seems as if… as if the guards have been magically charmed.”
Murmurs, even cries, erupt from the gathered guests. “Imprison them!” ... “Bind them in the stockades!” ...“Witches, the lot of them--burn them at the stake!” It seems the wine and lurid stories have dragged even the educated and sophisticated into the trenches of hysteria.
“Clearly, more stringent actions need be taken.” She turns to you. “Alessandra, Edlanar, Sezsu, Zied. You have proven yourselves capable in more than one respect. We don’t want an armed conflict, goodness no. Yet our aim should be to send a… a stern message to these visitors. I would request that you deliver, this very night, a message on behalf of the Duchess Morwen of Daggerford.” The rooms falls quiet in anticipation of her declaration.
She takes a slow puff from her cigarette “If they don’t leave before dawn,” she says, exhaling smoke with each word, “I’ll burn their wagons to the ground.”
Zied had spent the evenings dinner taking small nibbles, and hoping his refusal to drink alcohol did not dismay or generate discontent. Zied simply preferred the clarity of water, clarified further still with his own small tricks. Purity of composition tasted good. The macabre stories and inside humour of the dinner did not pale his composition. Zied was no stranger to rather violent occurances-both in sight and in experience...
Tonight Zied put some effort into his clothing; gone was his normal equipment-illsuited for a formal dinner to be armed and ready. Tonight he simply had his small satchel of alchemical items in case of emergency. No tonight Zied dressed in a way he rarely has in recent life; a fine tailored vest accompanied by hewed and hemmed shirt and briches. His precious clockwork time piece fashioned sturdy with chain to his lapel and safely abscond within his inner vest pocket. His hair-typically white, tonight was dyed an approriate colour for the event, as he wore small copper wire framed glasses, nof often seen, these glasses were well worn, showing faded marks and metal fatigue from human oil s over the years. He wore a deep purple poncho and scarf-both showing signs of hand made, and showing constant repair and ware from years of use. Left folded but within his eyesight.
Zied's s mall talk was just that, small. He used to be better at this sort of thing, interpersonal relationships, chit chat, liking people. All that came much harder these days through his more muted point of view. Still, it was nice to be wanted, and the cook clearly understood the concept of seasoning.
At the Duchess's resquest, Zied took to mean a formal request, no mention of reward-to build his savings for his research and goal, but whether reward comes later, or the reward was simply building further trust and confidence of those in power. He had little reason to refuse such a request, yet he did require clarifications. "I see, that request can be fulfilled. I request a point of clarification-Sternly worded, or sternly forced, or simply up to our descrition as long as bloodshed is not the result? A simple option-Leave, or face a cost in the morning. Correct?" Removing a small notepad formed of parchment, cut into strips and woven together, Zied sketches out the request for his own records; as he awaits his coworker's adherence, refusal, or comments.
Alessandra answered to Duchess with a polite smile, not adding any questions yet. Her ...ambiguous position still made her feel a bit - may be not uncomfortable but inconvenienced? She preferred when others from their small group were talking, leaving an illusion as if she just accompanied them out of curiosity. Alessa had a feeling other guests here would prefer so see it this way too. In curious looks she was catching all the evening, behind the curiosity sat a clear disapproval and she was wandering when - if ever - it will change to if not a respect, then at least fear.
Evenings like this reminded her too vividly of what she had left behind and though she was dressed to the occasion, not sure if she was invited as part of the hunting team or a visiting noble (come to think of it - very unlikely), the dress alone could not patch the growing split between her and her former circles.
Alessa's best gown - her only gown to be precise - was not meant for dealing with bandits of any kind, but half-expecting the request, she brought all she needed with her and was sure the order (as friendly as it sounded it was an order) was that urgent that she could not change. She was just waiting for the details to excuse herself to the dressing room.
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
The duchess smiles. “My dear Zied, your understanding is correct. Of course, if these ruffians draw their weapons against you, you should defend yourself. But if we can be rid of them without spilling blood, so much the better. They should know that my threat is serious.”
The guests have grown quiet, whispering among themselves as they hear out the exchange.
She taps her cigarette into a silver ashtray. “I am curious, however, as to why they’ve come. I would be ever grateful if you would investigate their origin and the reason they’ve appeared. If they are part of a larger group, it may be that they are organized. Perhaps there is a leader who is seeking to stake a claim in the province of Daggerford. I should like to know. You won’t fail me in this, will you? I assume you’ve brought your weapons? If not, the guards can outfit you well enough. Of course I shall see that your efforts are rewarded.”
"The group is always armed," Alessa continued to smile politely and as if a bit of "bystander way". "But are they really so mysterious? Should we know the true mystery visited the town we would probably go there on our own, out of pure curiosity." (She used "we" - after all, she was going openly there anyway) "If you excuse me, the meeting with the mystery requires some preparations." Alessandra put away her still half full glass of wine, stood up, smiled to the guests and moved deeper into the house to change.
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
As the Duchess halts the conversation, "...but I told her I was just doing it ironically," is heard whispered a bit too loudly. With a sigh and an eyeroll, Sezsu turns from his conversation with Edlanar to pointedly look just attentive enough as the request was made of them.
"Are you sure the guards weren't simply lacking resolve? This hardly seems like something worth spoiling a perfectly good dinner party over. And certainly not something that would require the skills of our group, no? Aren't there...better guards to be had or something?"
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
Since they'd been back in his home town, Edlanar had been able to spend some quality time with his family, oh had he missed his sisters, not the little girls that he had such fond memories of - both were married and had children of their own now, and 'Uncle Ed' was always a welcome visitor to either of their homes. They had all been so proud of his work in the area, and the fondness of the duchess to Ed and his companions had given them all a little bump in their social circles. His sisters had once again taken far too much time fussing and fawning over him to help him 'look his best' for the dinner this evening.
He'd turned up to the dinner in pseudo military attire, the cut of his clothes very similar, but just toned down enough that he was clearly not visting under his formal rank in as a Knight of the Silver Sun. The jacket hung well on his broad shoulders, and the marks of his rank were embroidered into the lapel, rather than worn on his sleeve. "Edlanar Holbrook" the elder of the pair, Kelsifer, has told him amidst much finger wagging, "If you're dining in the presence of the duches you'll make sure she see's that you clean up rught! All that time you spend with them that don't have much rubs off on you too often and you forget you're a man of both cloth and steel.
Edlanar was crushed to have the evening disrupted in such a fashion. He had particularly enjoyed the starter that evening, and the duchess was in her usual good form with her witticisms and jokes. Ah well, such was their lot now and whilst his service to Lathander still came first over everything else, this was a service to Daggerford, and by virtue of his family living there it was also a service to them, and he supposed since pshe was asking, then the duchess would appreciate it to... Yes, it was definitely a useful undertaking, "Never fear Duchess, perhaps a word of encouragement to find alternate encampments is all we'll need. I'm sure they are perfectly reasonable fellows, and just in need of some coin before moving along of their own accord. I'm sure we can handle the matter without any bloodshed." His words would sound naïve to most of those assembled at the Duchess' abode tonight, but to Alessa, Sezsu and Zied it was just another way that Ed's optimistic outlook poked it's head into every situation, no matter how dire. "Though if you had a chain shirt or similar to hand, I didn't foresee the smell of my armor being acceptable around the dinner table."
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
Pausing briefly at his allies inquiry inputs, Zied takes a moment to himself-chewing on something small, then, follows along with the fact that not everyon readily carries things with them. "Well, if we are permitted to borrow items, then borrowing some armour, perhaps ones representing The Duchess and thus proving our authority as representitives to their leader to further carry weight to our firmly worded suggestions that they relocate to another area, and perhaps find work as opposed to requesting community resources. " Zied opiones and requests a requisition of supplies of higher quailty than they typically paired with. WIth the intention that perhaps it can be bundled into their reward post completion with some sly negotations. After all, the Duchess is making such a grand declaration in front of noble guests, it would be a gracious chance for her to flaunt her wealth and power to them in such a d isplay.
Zied was never one for social politics, but he had certainly listend to her complain over a refreshing warmed spiced mead about the politics of her work enough times that he gained an understanding. Once again she improved his life, without ever realizing. All the more reason to keep his working towards his goals. Regardless of how much he may have to play nice. (For clarity's sake the second paragraph is not referring to the duchess.)
GM note below; in case this statement requires a roll
If you need a roll, let me know. I would be applying Guidance and my Racial bonus to this. As he took a moment to chew his guidance pill, and memories of Her helped him navigage)19+4+5+Whatever Skil or Tool you think is approraite.
Just let me know if I did need to roll or not; so I can toggle used resources)
Morwen smiles as Alessa exits the room. "Such a professional, that one," she remarks. "Her, as well?" asks a guest. “Oh yes. Do not be deceived, Clairwen.” the duchess whispers proudly. “You’ve heard of scholars and gentlemen. Well, that one’s a mercenary and a lady.”
“Oh, Sezsu,” the duchess pouts toward the young man. “You know the guards are capable. That they have returned the task unperformed clearly suggests it calls for, mmm, special talent. I do abhor to interrupt dessert. It’s a black forest cake! However, I promise you that if you succeed I’ll ask the chef to prepare another. Just for you. Doesn’t that sound capital?”
She lights up at Edlanar's agreement and Zied's proposal. “Yes, of course. A grand idea!” She sits up, clearly excited. “Raymord!” A butler steps forward precisely when called. “Please see to it that these four… my special ones… are adequately outfitted for this task?”
Raymord bows, extending a white-gloved hand toward the door through which Alessa exited. “Gentlemen.”
(The duchess is happy to loan you common weapons, light, or medium armor up to 500gp in value, on strict condition that you return these items to her armory upon completion of this mission).
"Our thanks to you good lady, a set of armor from your stores would be most appreciated, and I suppose a suitable blade would make sense, just in case they aren't entirely reasonable folks. We shall endeavour to bring your equipment back to you unblemished and very much un-used."
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
Sezsu smiles self-consciously. "Well, black forest cake is my favorite..." He might actually be blushing, although it's hard to tell with his skintone.
He stands and straightens the front of his robes. "With your blessing, Your Grace, I'll join the others and provide ample reason for these louts to move on to darken other doorsteps."
Bowing briskly, Sezsu turns on his heel to follow the others.
(Not sure if we're going to walk through the armory but Sezsu would happily don a breastplate with the Duchess' emblem for this.)
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
It did not take that long for Alessa to change into her "working" clothes (months of practice helped) but she came to the meeting point outside the last (Grano saw to it, that she would not have wait for others - rules are rules, after all). "In the fields" she prefer black: black perfectly crafted outfit (the best quality money can buy), complete with black and no less perfectly made long cloak - style and practicality in a complete harmony. Grano - her miniature black owl - looked like a fitting accessory on her shoulder.
"Let's see those mysterious ruffians?" She only glanced at the new armor the group was wearing - smart move! - and just in case (they could be friendly with guards, but it's better to be prepared) summoned the magical armor as well. She was ready to move to the site of danger.
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
With a twist of his wrist, his folded poncho flairs open spinning briefly wide open before settling around his shoulders. Zied tosses his rucksack over his shoulder giving the attendees a polite bow and thus excusing himself from the festivities to head off for equipement. Within the armory Zied opts to borrow a Breastplate for himself. This piece of armour is one he's been curious about for some time now but unaware of how it would actually feel or work with his particular needs. Taking a brief respite to double check the straps, fit his shield-previously tied to his rucksack, to his belt ready to slot upon his left arm if need be. Zied lightly fingers the ring upon his hand, promising himself its all a step towards his goal.
"Likely drunkards who have no employment or home. Any of you know any small hamlets around? They're often looking for an influx of new blood into the villages, if they're willing to work in th fields and settle down. A recommendation letter- and a firm warning against causing a ruckus, and we might be able to relocate them without trouble." express Zied, hoping that it would truly be so simple. A handful of folks could be placed but a small caravan likely could not be easily placed. Regardless the very real threat to their homesteads the Baronness expressed will motivate them, or agitate them. Mayhap both.
Edlanar sifts through the armory, rapping on plate and shaking out chain. He digs out a gambeson that seems large enough for him, and requests aid from one of the others in tightening the straps of a breast plate, offering the same service for those that needed it. There was always something Ed had liked about putting on his armor, perhaps it was because donning armaments had a sense of purpose to it, it wasn't something you did 'just because'. He hefted a few blades before settling on a servicable long sword, the edge keen and no fancy ornamenting on the hilt. Missing his own sheild, Ed straps one onto his arm, sheates the blade, and pats himself down with a few hard blows on his chest, making sure the impact spreads evenly and there are no catches or edges that might cause issue under a serious blow.
"I'm no woodsman, but I know the town and the area surrounding. Let's see what these folk are like and then we can help them get where they should be. Mayhap they would prefer the trek up to Waterdeep if they are industrious enough. A few sensible words should be all that we need on this fine evening."
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
Sezsu rolls his eyes. "That's such a you thing to say, Ed. These fools are most likely opportunistic grifters. They won't respond to sense as they create their own that serves their purposes as they go. But indulge if you must. I'm sure, at the end of the day, we'll have to demonstrate that their opportunities here are severely limited to the point of nonexistence and that inhabitants elsewhere will be much easier prey."
He grunts as he fits himself into an identical breastplate and happily accepts the help in adjusting and tightening it.
"A bit more restrictive than I'm used to but I'm sure the visible notes of Her Grace's authority will be worth the discomfort."
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
As they approach the town wall, Sezsu will begin quietly chanting a canticle.
Ritual casting.
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
"Ah, Sezsu, if it wasn't a me thing to say then it would make even less sense in me saying it. Give everyone a fair chance, and then whatever they do with it is on them. If you assume these people are bad to begin with, how can you make a fair judgement?" Ed tightens the last strap for Sezsu and gives him a firm 'pat' on his breast plate. "A fair fit."
Bring out your inner chatacter class...
Approaching Daggerford’s gate, you note the presence of guards up on the wall, keeping watch.
The lonely road, it winds and wends its way westward. A cool autumn breeze pushes you along your way. The blazing orange leaves of nyssa sylvatica trees line the path, nearly obscuring it. The path skirts the edge of a derelict split-rail fence before shying away, rolling carelessly down a hill and crossing the tepid waters of what might be called a stream.
There, nestled by the water, you find them. The travelers are camped on the hill outside the gates of Daggerford, near the road.
In the ever-darkening evening, you see a dozen men and women gathered around a crackling bonfire. The folk are in good spirits. A few of them sing and dance around the fire while others find happiness in their flasks and wineskins. Three barrel-topped wagons are parked at odd angles. Tied to a nearby tree, grazing, are half a dozen draft horses wearing bright coats with bangles and tassels.
As you approach, one of the men steps forward fearlessly. “Greetings!” he says, his voice spiced with an exotic accent. “Welcome, friends! I am Stanimir. Come, come!” He gestures towards other members of the camp. “This is my daughter, Damia, and my son, Ratka.” Nine other travelers look on, drinking and laughing. "You will drink with us!"
(Actions?)
The walk was even pleasant - soft autumn evening, the surrounding trees of all the shades of dying fire... Alessa caught a bright red leaf and was now twirling it in her fingers - one bright spot against her night black attire.
The merry celebration they came to took her aback - on one hand, yes, they were indeed vagabonds, drifters, the type that settlers of any kind are always suspicious about - and for a good reason too. But on the other... When one can see that happy ever-travelers so close, hear their songs and laughter, it is hard to believe all that stories about stolen children, cursed respectful town-folk or even lesser crimes, like theft. Still, the appearance could be (and should, if the stories were remotely true) deceitful.
Alessandra kept a bit behind, studying Stanimir and his daughter from the distance and hoping that official emblems on the armor of her companions will attract more attention than her simple black clothes. She both did not want to be a barer of a bad news and preferred to had a good vantage in case it will be needed. (Not to mention, did not plan to drink anything here)
Meili Liang Lvl 5 Monk
Dice
The view of happy festival air was in fact, roughly what Zied was expecting. They're drifters without much work, or mayhap travling show cases. Often what reaches the "top brass" is an exageration of the theme. The matter of the previous guard's "failure" has some questions that linger within Zied's mind. Yet that wasn't something to figure out through mulling, it would have to come from these follks.
Looking at his companions briefly, to see if any felt like taking the lead. As well as preparing himself by taking stock of their clothes, horses and wagons, Zied calls out a hail, "Good evening, I'm sorry I don't partake much these days. Well met, although perhaps under better circumstances. We're here on business. That can wait, however. I'm Zied, I'm a bit of a Odd-Job adventurer" Zied holds out his hand to shake Stanimir's if he abides, giving a firm but non agressive grip, "Where are you folks from? It looks like you're a caravan. Are you a traveling show, or are you looking for a forever home to settle near?"
Zied attempts to put his best food forward, as he wants to get their story and figure out how best to convience them to move on. They aren't here as enforcers-Yet, there is no reason for Zied not to listen to their story
GM In case of a roll
Persuasian(I assume?)+Guidance (done prior to calling out while he was looking at his cohorts) 11+4 I sure hope you weren't going to require a roll~ or that someone Helps haha
[ooc] Also, Is there food? Zied has his cooking tool set in his backpack. Not much food. But depending on how the conversation goes, he has some temptation of cookery[/ooc]correction cook tools are stored away