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(Casual D&D IV) A Knight for a Pawn
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<blockquote data-quote="Guilt Puppy" data-source="post: 2520536" data-attributes="member: 6521"><p>"Thedoric?" Brother Baylough asks, seeming to recognize the name without being able to place it, at first. "You know, I think Brother Aramil might... Well, let me see about that."</p><p></p><p>He hails a page over, and speaks quietly into his ear: "Go upstairs, tell them there is a group here who have a letter from, or rather, <em>believed</em> to be from Lord Thedoric... Ask them if Brother Aramil would like to meet them personally."</p><p></p><p>He hands over a set of keys, and the young page runs off, disappearing into a small doorway. Brother Baylough passes the wait with some polite conversation: Where do you come from, how have your travels been, and so forth, seeming equally impressed with all and any answers given.</p><p></p><p>In a short while, the page returns, and you escorted up a flight of stairs, down a long hallway, and into a small, sparsely furnished white room: Only a simple wooden desk, a few chairs, and to the side, a narrow table with a checkered board and set of kingsmen pieces mounted on a rack beside it.</p><p></p><p>At the center of all this, against the back wall, sits perhaps the broadest set of shoulders ever seen. He is clearly an old half-orc, face full of wispy white whiskers and crossed with cavernously deep lines, but he is nonetheless clearly of extreme physical condition. He wears a simple white mantle, bearing the Star of Cuthbert, over a hulking suit of armor, which no doubt accentuates but still cannot be heldy solely responsible for the man's formidable breadth. Behind him, resting lightly on a wall mount, is an absurdly large mace, handle reinforced with steel a dozen times over, the shining silver head blossoming with spikes and edges.</p><p></p><p>"Good morning," the head between the shoulders says, in a loud, gravelled voice. "I am Brother Aramil..." he reaches his hand across the table, to shake with whoever is nearest. "I understand you bring word from Thedoric?"</p><p></p><p>The last word, the name is spoken in a tilted, impressed tone, with thick eyebrows hefted up to match. He looks on in a wondering, slightly amused manner for your response.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Guilt Puppy, post: 2520536, member: 6521"] "Thedoric?" Brother Baylough asks, seeming to recognize the name without being able to place it, at first. "You know, I think Brother Aramil might... Well, let me see about that." He hails a page over, and speaks quietly into his ear: "Go upstairs, tell them there is a group here who have a letter from, or rather, [i]believed[/i] to be from Lord Thedoric... Ask them if Brother Aramil would like to meet them personally." He hands over a set of keys, and the young page runs off, disappearing into a small doorway. Brother Baylough passes the wait with some polite conversation: Where do you come from, how have your travels been, and so forth, seeming equally impressed with all and any answers given. In a short while, the page returns, and you escorted up a flight of stairs, down a long hallway, and into a small, sparsely furnished white room: Only a simple wooden desk, a few chairs, and to the side, a narrow table with a checkered board and set of kingsmen pieces mounted on a rack beside it. At the center of all this, against the back wall, sits perhaps the broadest set of shoulders ever seen. He is clearly an old half-orc, face full of wispy white whiskers and crossed with cavernously deep lines, but he is nonetheless clearly of extreme physical condition. He wears a simple white mantle, bearing the Star of Cuthbert, over a hulking suit of armor, which no doubt accentuates but still cannot be heldy solely responsible for the man's formidable breadth. Behind him, resting lightly on a wall mount, is an absurdly large mace, handle reinforced with steel a dozen times over, the shining silver head blossoming with spikes and edges. "Good morning," the head between the shoulders says, in a loud, gravelled voice. "I am Brother Aramil..." he reaches his hand across the table, to shake with whoever is nearest. "I understand you bring word from Thedoric?" The last word, the name is spoken in a tilted, impressed tone, with thick eyebrows hefted up to match. He looks on in a wondering, slightly amused manner for your response. [/QUOTE]
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