Dark Days in Sion - Act 2: Scene 4

Wrenwil

Shun001 said:

He lifted his face mask and looked to Wrenwil with a look of confusion and terror.

"I did something but I can't remember! What happened with the Quresh!"

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Well this was new. For the first time, despite being dropped into an attempted assassination, an environment which was harsh and unforgiving, all followed by an airborne assault, the knight looked really worried. REALLY worried this time.

The old cleric frowned and grunted with Kryslogious' statement.

"Tell me about it. At my age I can't remember most things lad. Come, we will walk a little again, the air will be good for you." This was Wrenwil's code for ~we need to talk in private... so many bloody ears around, even in the middle of nowhere!~

He walked some twenty yards out from camp with his friend, before speaking quietly.

"Through gifts of Pentos, I looked to the future my friend, and this is what I saw...a vision of a small fleet of Chivalan ships beneath the stars upon the seas at this very moment. Their banners bear the standard of the province of Ateria, yet above them where the flag of Pentos should wave, the evil sigil of Herod instead!
Their intended port of landing is a blackened city of ancient ruins, long since abandoned, with evidence of crumbling skeletons half-buried in ash littering the streets. It is a port city somewhere on the coast of Akhenaten. Strangely yet, there were people moving on the docks to throw ropes and secure the ships to mooring. Other figures stir in the ruins before evil humanoids of all types emerge and assemble into military formations on the outskirts of the city. That is all I remember."

"Now, your Quresh. I do believe your tales are contained in the Tome are they not? Then it would seem, that to learn the memories which elude you, we must read from it. There is however a catch. A terrible twist. Both times I have opened it, I have been stricken with a feeling of dread like none other before, my very soul being beckoned to the dark, to madness, to a place much much worse than here. This my friend, is your decision. Should you wish, I will pray to our lord, pray like never before, all night if need be, and then in the morning light I shall open the Tome once more, and see what memories and dreams we can have to you, restored. Your decision. What do you say? A man without memories is but half a man, and I being old, perhaps useless, can perchance offer you this as MY great task."

"Besides," Wrenwil shrugged, "you saved my life today. I owe you."

"Whatever happens, we do it in the name of Pentos, for the sake of our friends here... at the camp. And our people, so far far away back home."

Ersun, Thiara

p3sent said:

On the other hand maybe he shows too much of how little he has been briefed by Izel, but he has to learn these details one way or the other anyway. He considers what she said and nods. There are still holes in the picture, but he will dwelve more into them with time.

“Yes, thank you.” he responds. “Let us go to Cabarda then. How does the travelling go?” he makes sure he did not lose anything on the way and that his belongings are attached firmly. He would have no more questions right now and is ready for the surface city.

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Thiara: Removes a scroll from a scroll case on her belt. "Teleportation magic isn't without risk, but the actual process is simple. All I have to do is read this scroll, touch anyone I wish to travel with, and envision the desired destination. Let us be on our way." (Caster Level Check to read from scroll, DC 10: = 24, Success) She says as she reaches over to place her hand on your arm.

For an instant you are overwhelmed with a dizzying sensation and the sound of air whooshing around you (Teleportation Mishap Check: = On Target) before you find yourself on a veranda behind a modest manor house.

You are on the surface now, after sunset, beneath a grey clouded sky. As you take a breath you can literally taste the strange flavor of the air, while the nights chill carried on the slightest breeze sends tingles across your skin. Sounds of the town around you are strangely distant, lacking echoes. It is an altogether surreal experience.

As you glance around to catch your bearings you note this veranda overlooks a garden, surrounded by a stone wall (abutting the manor) which features a sturdy postern gate. The walls of the manor and the surface of the veranda beneath your feet are likewise made of stone. Wooden posts support an open roof of wooden lattices over the veranda draped with ivy that provides good shade during the day.

The manor has a backdoor, with a single lantern hanging beside it that has its wick turned low so its light is actually subdued. Three shuttered windows are spaced in the manor wall beside the backdoor, beside which stands a pair of akhenaten guards who react to your strange and sudden appearance with obvious alarm. Both reach for weapons! One grabs for a scimitar at his waist while the other raises a loaded crossbow in your direction!

Guards: -Speaking Common- "Intruders!" They both shout from about 15 feet away.

The guards are not the only person on the veranda however. Another akhenaten man, much older, sits in a high-backed chair with his feet propped up on a footstool. On either side of him are low tables. One has a fat-bottomed glass bottle and two glasses. The other has a box of cigars and an ivory bowl full of ash from the one in his fingers.

The old man does not react fearfully to your appearance. He merely leans forward, squinting at you through cigar smoke with elderly eyes that do not see so well anymore.

Thiara: Ignores the guards and bows her head respectfully towards the old man. "Please pardon the intrusion Rasul. I have come with that guest after all."

The old man raises a hand to put his guards at rest. These are not normal guards however. You sense they are genuine killers, probably murderers, who still hold their weapons tensely, almost eagerly though not quite so threateningly as they were until his gesture of forbearance.

Rasul: "Of course..." Coughs "I'm always happy to do the lady Thiara a favor. Please sit." He says with hoarse, wheezing speech.

Thiara: Steps closer but does not sit. "I'm afraid I have no time for conversation tonight old friend. I only have time to make this introduction."

Rasul: Coughs. "A pity... but your haste has cause. The news from Masaeus is very dire after all."

Thiara: "Quite so." She gestures towards you to step closer. "This is Ersun. He's one of the Underfolk I told you about."

Rasul: Squints at you as you step up beside her. "Remarkable! Hard to believe they used to be human?" He asks of Thiara. Meanwhile the guards by the backdoor literally cannot help but stare at you with hands still nervously clutching their weapons.

Thiara: "I'll let Ersun answer that. I'm sure he'll act politely while he's your guest." She answers giving you a long look to make sure there is no mistaking her sincerity.

Rasul is in his mid sixties, lightly tanned with thinning grey hair combed back across a spotted scalp. His dark eyes, receded though they are above bony cheekbones, are calm with the confidence of someone who's already lived a lifetimes worth of challenges. His lips, thin and bloodless though they are, are not without feeling as they curl into a smile revealing yellowed teeth.

Rasul is dressed in fancy thobe (leggings) and kandura (buttoned tunic) beneath a fur-lined cloak that warms his old bones. His feet bare comfortable shoes. The only thing that seems out of place about his look of a rich commoner at the peak of his leisure is the sword belt draped over the arm of his chair. An ivory-handled short sword and dagger are affixed to it.

[Ersun: What do you do?]

Ersun

He could compare jumping here to jumping into freezing water for the first time, but not quite the same. It is all very new, shocking, but instead of hitting you in the chest it hits you in the head. Suddenly there are so many differences that make it all hard to take in and process. Especially since there are other priorities, and his healthy sense of importance winds up quickly and he turns his focus onto the people present. In reaction to them his skin starts to meld into his surroundings but he gathers himself and overcomes the instinct to keep his outlook normal and stable.

He quickly assesses the two guards and his fingers itch slightly in reaction to the raised crossbow. He can not help but start wondering if he could get to the guard quickly enough, but his chances annoyingly seem like in a game of dice. Inspecting the old man, he recognises some similiarities between him and some other powerhungry people of authority he came to know, and wonders if his first impression will stay true. The type of company he keeps does not help either.

Looking at the two glasses he also wonders who might the other be for, the smoking habit he quietly puts away as something crude, air is much more precious down underground, although it is of ridiculous abudance here.

When Thiara makes his introduction and the guard keeps twitching at him, he can’t help but make a faint smile, they are so much alike the henchmen of Izel it is amusing. Otherwise he keeps a simple, relaxed and collected demenaur, so when Thiara turns to him he does not have to force himself to seem to be in concurrence.

“I am Ersun Durin of Aridu. Thank you for your hospitality, I will be in your care for a little while.” he says pleasantly, he watched out to ensure his voice won’t be dry and keeps a simple rumbling melodious tone, as he might be polite but he does not want to seem too firm. He also makes an underfolk gesture of respect with his palm showing upwards, it should be an interesting curiosity to them. On the other hand from the few races he has met he learned that underfolk are not much for formalities compared to other, so they might overlook it as something casual, but that is part of why it is amusing for him to do it.

Kryslogious of Anasteria

97mg said:

Well this was new. For the first time, despite being dropped into an attempted assassination, an environment which was harsh and unforgiving, all followed by an airborne assault, the knight looked really worried. REALLY worried this time.

The old cleric frowned and grunted with Kryslogious' statement.

"Tell me about it. At my age I can't remember most things lad. Come, we will walk a little again, the air will be good for you." This was Wrenwil's code for ~we need to talk in private... so many bloody ears around, even in the middle of nowhere!~

He walked some twenty yards out from camp with his friend, before speaking quietly.

"Through gifts of Pentos, I looked to the future my friend, and this is what I saw...a vision of a small fleet of Chivalan ships beneath the stars upon the seas at this very moment. Their banners bear the standard of the province of Ateria, yet above them where the flag of Pentos should wave, the evil sigil of Herod instead!
Their intended port of landing is a blackened city of ancient ruins, long since abandoned, with evidence of crumbling skeletons half-buried in ash littering the streets. It is a port city somewhere on the coast of Akhenaten. Strangely yet, there were people moving on the docks to throw ropes and secure the ships to mooring. Other figures stir in the ruins before evil humanoids of all types emerge and assemble into military formations on the outskirts of the city. That is all I remember."

"Now, your Quresh. I do believe your tales are contained in the Tome are they not? Then it would seem, that to learn the memories which elude you, we must read from it. There is however a catch. A terrible twist. Both times I have opened it, I have been stricken with a feeling of dread like none other before, my very soul being beckoned to the dark, to madness, to a place much much worse than here. This my friend, is your decision. Should you wish, I will pray to our lord, pray like never before, all night if need be, and then in the morning light I shall open the Tome once more, and see what memories and dreams we can have to you, restored. Your decision. What do you say? A man without memories is but half a man, and I being old, perhaps useless, can perchance offer you this as MY great task."

"Besides," Wrenwil shrugged, "you saved my life today. I owe you."

"Whatever happens, we do it in the name of Pentos, for the sake of our friends here... at the camp. And our people, so far far away back home."

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The cool air chilled him but was strangelty soothing as he walked a slow pace next to Wrenwil. Kryslogious listened intently in whole without interruption as he spoke. Steeling his mind from his sudden outburst from the camp ehile taking this newfound divination Wrenwil spoke of into account.

"Forgive my previous interruption, such action is unbecoming of a knight..." he paused a moment to choose how to deliver what he saw. Attempting to make an accurate description of a hazy recollection he replies.

"I have done many things through the ages, both great and terrible deeds. I cannot say factually who I really am at my core since I take on some influence of those who call me fourth. As it sits right now most of my memories are locked from me, and those which I can recall appear jumbled in order and lacking detail that would let me identify events, people, and places. What I can tell you is everything that does appear to me is from my own eyes and from my own doing."

He takes a deep breath, his nervous tone and shake had all subsided at this point but the terrible things he glimpsed still chill his core. "I saw a terrible creature who tore people asunder. So many had fallen to the monsters hands as he lead a demon army across the land, lands that must be close to here. I am that terrible creature, and I could only assume I was commanding the Quresh. The rest eludes me but I myself am wary what would become of my mind should I inherit perfect recollection of such events, reliving a lifetime of terrible memories may do more harm then good as weakened as I am right now just being summoned."

He ponders about the Tome and asks directly "When you open the book to the page past the Melody Poem what language was it written in?" He prepared himself for what answer Wrenwil gives him could tip off another memory shock.

Wrenwil

Wrenwil was all ears as the knight did his partial "reveal", he kept his mouth shut too, save for the occasional "mmm," and a great deal of chin-stroking.

~I must shave before my last cursed day in these stinking lands.~

"I am sorry for what you have endured, and sorrier still that you fear your memories. Commmanding the Quresh..."

The old cleric's chin stroking ramped up in pace a bit as this news sunk in.

"...we must keep that to ourselves for now, until such a time as it is useful for us. You my friend, are no different to Ordechai in this regard. A man is judged on his actions, the path he walks today, and history... is something to learn from, not judge nor come to swift conclusions upon."

"So, I wonder if we are both conjuring the same visions, memories and fate, or if perhaps we are due for history... to repeat itself. The last three words were enunciated perfectly, slowly, and with a wisdom that the old bugger usually tried hard to conceal.

Shun001 said:

"When you open the book to the page past the Melody Poem what language was it written in?" He prepared himself for what answer Wrenwil gives him could tip off another memory shock.

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"A long time ago, when I was a young man, a selfish rodent in the church, a strapping spoiled brat and a dim minded fool, I glanced over the shoulder of an elderly priest attempting to translate evil texts from the cult of Herod. I will never forget that day, nor do I forget the shape of their scrawl, the curves and slashes, the accents and strikes. They etched themselves in my mind, and for many a day I was unable to awake from rest, even with the calls of women, ale and gambling with coin, tempting me from the bedside. This same style of written word, is what I saw upon the tin in the tome when I opened the cover. The rest of it may be different, but I have not examined it yet."

Wrenwil finished with a whisper, "the world is conspiring against us Kryslogious of Anasteria, and you and I it appears, are... " ~completely screwed? totally ****ed? ... no I can't say that~ in the thick of it. We must make it to Tabba in one piece, and from there I promise you that maybe just maybe, we can take a path that leads to answers."

Burrai, Elloral

Hillsy7 said:

Burrai watched as Rol said his goodbyes and made his unsure way out into the shuffling Cabardan crowd. Perhaps a hundred gold wasn't such a large price to pay for the safety of a young dwarf after all. Burrai was surprised how light his step was as he made his way again across town and into Putyuk's, looking for Elloral....

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Putyuk's is busier now then it was was when you left. A great variety of poor and shady characters are crowded into the common room, appropriate to the cheapest inn in town of course. Low voices in conversation, bawdy laughter and whispers fill your years as you shoulder your way thorough the throng.

You find Elloral at a table, but she is not alone. A diminutive gnome with a bright blue pointed hat sits across from her. He's several inches shorter than four feet tall so its no surprise to see him sitting on a thick ledger or tome of some sort to boost him a few inches. The gnome seems a tad familiar to you, but you can't quite remember where you've seen him before?

He's dressed in grey tights, black pointed-toed, knee-high boots, and a white tunic beneath a blue velvet doublet buttoned along the sides. On his belt he carries a number of pouches, a scroll-case, a pair of wands and dagger. Blue robes made of a lighter fabric, suitable to wear over his usual traveling garb in hot weather, are draped over the back of his chair and are still a bit dusty from the road. He is rather young with a clean shaven face and darkly tanned skin in stark contrast to his bright blue eyes.

Elloral has another mug of cider and you see he is drinking wine as you overhear a bit of their conversation.

Elloral: "...indeed that was a merry day!" She smiles "You are too kind Vanlen. Those fireworks you brought to the market really amazed the children! Surely you shouldn't set those things off for free? They must cost a lot!"

Vanlen: Laughs. "You have the right of that! I admit my motives aren't entirely generous. Setting off fireworks helps draw attention to my business. My master is harsh and unreasonable with his expectations. He wants me to sell most, if not all, of his goods each time I embark on the trade road. Its worth spending some of my share to keep him content."

[Burrai: What do you do?]

Fangor the Fierce said:

Svexyn:

Svexyn contemplates each question from Asusk, yet not answering just yet. He listens to the half-orcs history lesson, noting that perhaps he would find some answers soon enough. Or at least the next clue.

"I search for a legend many years in the past. It was said that there was an outsider that came to these lands. This outsider had knowledge and powers that made him unique. He was fro Caishia, and came to these lands at least a thousand years after the calamity befell this place. Apparently, he met the Quresh, and was never heard or seen from again. I intent to find out if this legend hold water, and what else happened after that fateful meeting."

He has already said enough, without divulging his true purpose. "As for your intentions.. I do not blame you for seeking revenge. The manner in which your friend died was something nobody should have to endure. Your guidance in these lands would be most welcome, but we have to be alert in our endeavors."

Svexyn looks to Mogan, then back to Asusk. "Each of us are here by chance. But what we do after our chance meetings defines us. I am not sure how long you will have to wait for revenge, but if you can hold off your lust for death, then perhaps we can help each other."

Nodding to Mogan, Svexyn relays what he knows to Asusk. "Your employer met his demise very near from here. There are ruins in these sands, and it was near one of the entrances to these ruins that the trio of hooded men came from. They had a pack of these dire jackals. I have never faced them before, and from what they did to your friend, I don't like the prospect of facing them unprepared."

"Which brings me to our current situation." Svexyn gathers up Asusk's items, handing them back to him.

"It would be best if you donned the desert gear, and hid yourself from prying eyes. I am not sure how keen you are on your appearance, but anything to change your appearance would likely help. I will welcome your help, and when it comes to exacting revenge for the murder of your friend, and if you require aid, then I will lend my weapons. But we only kill those that deserve it. I can't imagine that every Quresh is evil. For those that are, and those that stand in my way, then they will have to be dealt with. I just hope that your sword fares better than it did with Drasus, no offense..."

"As for the jackals, it seems as though they are skilled in tracking as well. Their handlers also seem to train them to search out in an arc from their place, so perhaps that is when we could strike at them. But we would have to be swift and deadly. If one raised the alarm, then we are done for."

"If we are going to get into those ruins nearby, then I think we need to do some more work. If we could take on those dire jackals one by one, then it would be better. Right now, it's only myself, Mogan here, and Folg. I doubt we could take on the pack, so if you have any ideas..." he let's the statement hang in the air, hoping that Asusk has taken the bait and will work with them.

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Asusk: Clenches his jaw "Drasus got the better of me last time. Next time will be different!" He swears. "I can set up traps and snares nearby to incapacitate or kill the jackals, luring them by their base instincts every animal shares. I have supplies at my tent that would serve. Killing the jackals would make moving towards those ruins possible yes?"

Mogan: Speaks up "There are five dire jackals in total last we saw, two of which are held on leashes by a pair of guards who conduct patrols after sundown. One beast stays behind at the ruins. Even if you managed to kill the pair of jackals that run loose, the guards trailing behind will certainly notice. We'd have to to kill them too before they could raise an alarm."

Asusk: Furrows his brow. "They spread out and search in different directions yes?"

Mogan: Nods. "It seemed that way... but we didn't linger long enough to see for certain. They are probably out there right now circling the ruins as we speak."

Asusk: Frowns. "Killing the guards on patrol would take careful coordination. Odds are they circle in opposing directions so they can keep tabs on each other. We'd have to get them both before they realize something happened to the other. It would be tricky with only three of us..."

Mogan: Interjects. "And the Kobold, for what that's worth."

Asusk: "Kobold?"

Mogan: "He's standing guard outside. In any case, I'm not getting paid enough to do such a foolish thing. No offense to you, Asusk, and your desire for vengeance." He says earnestly before giving Svexyn an apologetic look. "Sorry boss, but any plans to attack these Quresh isn't part of my job description. Not at those odds at least."

Asusk: "Your a mercenary?"

Mogan: Shakes his head. "I used to be before I took a wound to the knee. I tend to pick my fights more carefully now that retreat isn't much of an option anymore."

Asusk: "Well, I'm not suicidal either as I already stated. Attacking wouldn't be the wisest course until we know we can win. Meanwhile, there's still an opportunity here to gather information." Looks again to Svexyn "You never said the Quresh merchant you overheard upstairs was the same one I remember from Tabba. Is it the same one? What did he say?"

[Svexyn: What do you do?]

Avar, Billanverthorne, Jabbar, Shafi

Tellerian Hawke said:

Bill will proceed with caution, but he's keeping an eye on Shafi.

(Rolling spot and listen checks... Both are 1d20+4. Spot = 23, Listen = 10. Bill doesn't hear much, but if something is worth noticing, then he does so.)

Bill is actively trying to remember what he sees along the route (locations of people and things, etc.) He is also ready for treachery and/or betrayal. Last but not least, Bill looks at the bridge as he approaches it, trying to see if it's as sturdy as Jabbar claims, and to see if there is any sort of device in place that would allow the bandits to release the bridge's moorings, i.e., causing people on it to fall to their doom.

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You do not notice any obvious traps on the bridge, but it would technically require a Search Check to know for sure. What you do notice however, is a heavy rope and pulley setup strong across the crevasse above you. An iron hook on a chain hangs down 10 ft from a pulley attached to a thick rope that is about 15' above and slightly to the side of the rope bridge. It looks capable of carrying a great deal of weight, and is obviously a much better way to get heavy and cumbersome loads across the crevasse than a rope bridge.

[It looks possible to carry yourself across the crevasse by the pulley and chain with pure momentum if you had a running start.]

Your listen check can't determine where exactly, but you do hear the faintest sounds of chisels, picks and hammers at work echoing through the crevasse. Your infravision isn't quite acute enough to see into its depths, but you do glimpse other light-sources along its edge too either side of the bridge revealing other caves opening unto the crevasse. You can't be certain yet, but you imagine there are men busy at stonework near those caves that are the source of those sounds. Towards what purpose or design, you can only guess at this point? Yet as Jabbar said, it seems they are keen on making improvements.

Jabbar: "Tell you what, we'll cross the bridge if you cross with us."

Shafi: Crosses his arms. "I don't see why I'd need to do that."

Jabbar: "That's simple. It's a gesture of good faith. If you don't, we won't either."

Shafi: Glares. "You have no chance of getting out of here alive if you refuse!"

Jabbar: "We're not refusing, were simply asking for a gesture of good faith."

Shafi: Glances back at the other bandits, pointing at Bandit 1, the youngest. "You! Do as he asks!"

Bandit 1: Shakes his head. "I take orders from Odan!"

Shafi: Glares wickedly at Bandit 1 "I'll have words with you when I get back!" He curses and stomps towards the bridge. "Come on then!" He grunts at the three of you.

The three of you follow Shafi onto the bridge, which creaks and sways quite a bit but holds well enough. When you are about halfway across...

Jabbar: Grabs one of Shaffi's arms and prods the point of his dagger into his lower back and whispers. "When we reach the other side more of your friends are going to surround us. You are going to make sure we get out of here unscathed, or you will be the first to die!" (Intimidation Check, Int based: = 12)

Shafi: (Sense Motive Check: = 20) "You are too honorable to stab anyone in the back!" He hisses.

Jabbar: -Whispers- "Normally that would be true, but you know what they say, there is no honor among thieves and right now I am a smuggler!" He threatens jabbing the point of his dagger against his back harder for emphasis. (Intimidate Check, Cha based: = 25)

Shafi: (Sense Motive Check: = 1, Fumble!)

Suddenly you smell something pungent as Shafi wets himself.

[Billanverthorne: What do you do? Also, you forgot to roll up a fate pool for DDS 214]

Billanverthorne: Will the ruse work?

Bill decides to play it up, using his Intimidate skill on Jabbar's behalf, i.e., "good cop / bad cop."

(Intimidate roll = 23)

To Shafi (Common): "Ok, look, I know that I offended Odan somehow, but I am begging you, Shafi, please, take my advice! Just let us be on our way! I'm getting really nervous. Jabbar has that look in his eye again, and the last time that happened, 18 people died, including 2 of our own. Please, don't make him angry. Jabbar is much more than he seems... that wand of his..." Bill shivers audibly. "I like a good fight as well as the next merc, but that wand of his scares me! I've seen what it can do!" Bill adds one, final thought, "And don't forget, we're underground! An explosion that large could cause a cave-in!"

Burrai Steelborn

Vanlen said:

"You have the right of that! I admit my motives aren't entirely generous. Setting off fireworks helps draw attention to my business. My master is harsh and unreasonable with his expectations. He wants me to sell most, if not all, of his goods each time I embark on the trade road. Its worth spending some of my share to keep him content."

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Putyuk's had filled considerably. Burrai stood in the doorway, head cocked to one side, examining the common room. Then he leaned back and looked at the vaulting catherdral ceiling of dull, iron grey clouds. ~Later than I expected~ he thought. ~Or the workers have all decided this day isn't deserving of a full shift~ Either was possible. It wasn't an inspiring day; the boiling clouds would warrant only the briefest line in a story or ballad. He'd always preferred clouds - made him feel less like someone had unpeeled the world and he was going to fall upwards forever. A man shouldered past, muttering nothing pleasant, and Burrai followed him in with a shrug.

Elloral wasn't alone. That in itself wasn't a surprise; in her role as Priestess a gregarious nature was almost mandatory and to see her passing the time with a stranger was barely worthy of note. But two things caught him short: the casual words of shared experiences between the pair, and the itching sense of familiarity that scuttled lightly around the inside of his own skull. Without realising it he'd shifted two paces to the bar, putting a couple of bodies in the way. And that itch in his head tickled round and round and ro -

"You Drinkin' or taking up space?" A voice from behind and above snapped. One of the barmaids scowled down at him, leaning over the bar. She might've been pretty for a human, stocky and thick limbed, deep set eyes gleaming with iritation. But she was at least two foot too tall.

"Drinkin'" He said, slipping a silver onto the counter. "Ale. Darkest you've got." It was never best to cross words with barmaids; one of the most fearsome people he'd met had trounced 5 armed men with nothing but an empty bug and a serving tray. As she fetched the drink he realised his initial panic was unnecessary. Elloral was smart, wise, and most of could weigh a man's soul to the pound. If she was relaxed around this Vanlen, then there wasn't any danger. Immediate danger anyway. He took his ale with a word of thanks and went to the table. The beer was dark and earthy and delicious.

"I see I wasn't missed." He said, placing his mug on the table and facing the gnome. Perched as he was on the pile of books he almost looked Burrai in the eye sitting down. likely he would've had Burrai not been tall for a dwarf. "So Vanlen is it? Burrai Steelborn, pleased to meet you." He held out a heavy scared hand and felt the scratching annoyance of absent memory skitter in his mind twice as hard.