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From humble beginnings...
- Thread starter Narrator
- Start date
Tarvoden bid you come with him to the mayor's office. Through the streets you passed the wretched peoples, some begged for food from you, some even stole whatever was given to others. It was a horrible sight, to see people in such despair. But again, 'twas not your plight and not your people and therefore, not your concern.
He then showed you to a stone building, obviously official in nature. Two burly guards in chain shirts, wielding halberds and the insignia of some lord or another nodded to Tarvoden and let you pass, weapons and all.
Stone steps lead up to double doors of bronzewood, polished with oil and age. Brass handles opened doors that swung on smooth hinges. A carpeted hall lay before you and to either side doorways led off to various chambers where men sat discussing what were obviously important matters, since they required the copious consumption of brandy and other fine liquours.
At the end of the hall there was a set of stairs leading up to another hall, this one on the outer perimeter of the second story, and thus windowed. Outside, the tended lawn and gardens of the mayors office could be seen and, beyond, the streets from where you just came.
Tarvoden noticed you all had stopped by the large, high windows and so spoke to you all.
"The rich are the few, the poor are the many; so it has always been... come."
He walked you to a pair of large, double doors of ornate design. Several forms of regalia, banners and flags, hung around the entrance indicating some lordships house or other, though different from the guards outside.
Before entering, Tarvoden stopped and looked back at you.
"Who we meet now is your sponsor. He shall judge whether you are worthy of his investment. This is merely a formality and I have little doubt he will pass you, but it is a protocol that we must... endure. After I have announced you, please step forward and introduce yourselves, perhaps state what skills you bring to the mission."
And with that, he led you into a large room bedecked with walls of books on every conceivable subject and other walls full of the regalia and equipment of war. A massive fireplace was set off to one side and in front of it, a dozen or so feet away, was a large oaken desk beset by hordes of paper.
In a large chair in the opposite corner, there sat a man of regal stature. His face was plain but bore the signs of age and twinkling behind the beads of two little eyes was an obviously keen mind. He not so much as looked you over as he examined every inch of all of you with those eyes as if beams of magic shot forth from them and relayed all possible information back.
In another chair, to the side, was another man. Slightly pudgy and looking decidely nervous. In front of them sat a crystal decanter of brandy on a silver tray with two glasses, all of which lay upon a small table. The nervous man poured himself a drink and swallowed it wholesale which in turn caused the other to give him a stern look of reproach.
Tarvoden stopped about ten feet before the chairs and swept down into a gracious bow before speaking in a booming voice.
"Your Noble Lordship, may I introduce to you the Phoenix Guard plus one. Bor of Perrenland, Grenier Elderich, M'faro of Tenh, Manzanita Sparrow, and Garrik of Zeif. Another wishes to join the company and shall present himself before you, he is Clete of the City of Hawks."
Tarvoden then stepped to the side and waved his hand in your direction and then turned to face you.
OOC: Manazanita, your Bardic Knowledge enlightened you to the fact that the the two guards outside the mayors office were wearing the insignia of Viscount Luther Derwent, the Lord of the Viscount of the March, of which you are now in. However, on meeting him, you could not quite recall his reputation. If you want to know anything further, ask a specific question in OOC. The other insignias belonged to Lord Veris Montaigne, though you're not sure of his station or reputation.
EDIT: Ack! It's Lord Luther DeRWent, not Dement... sheesh!
He then showed you to a stone building, obviously official in nature. Two burly guards in chain shirts, wielding halberds and the insignia of some lord or another nodded to Tarvoden and let you pass, weapons and all.
Stone steps lead up to double doors of bronzewood, polished with oil and age. Brass handles opened doors that swung on smooth hinges. A carpeted hall lay before you and to either side doorways led off to various chambers where men sat discussing what were obviously important matters, since they required the copious consumption of brandy and other fine liquours.
At the end of the hall there was a set of stairs leading up to another hall, this one on the outer perimeter of the second story, and thus windowed. Outside, the tended lawn and gardens of the mayors office could be seen and, beyond, the streets from where you just came.
Tarvoden noticed you all had stopped by the large, high windows and so spoke to you all.
"The rich are the few, the poor are the many; so it has always been... come."
He walked you to a pair of large, double doors of ornate design. Several forms of regalia, banners and flags, hung around the entrance indicating some lordships house or other, though different from the guards outside.
Before entering, Tarvoden stopped and looked back at you.
"Who we meet now is your sponsor. He shall judge whether you are worthy of his investment. This is merely a formality and I have little doubt he will pass you, but it is a protocol that we must... endure. After I have announced you, please step forward and introduce yourselves, perhaps state what skills you bring to the mission."
And with that, he led you into a large room bedecked with walls of books on every conceivable subject and other walls full of the regalia and equipment of war. A massive fireplace was set off to one side and in front of it, a dozen or so feet away, was a large oaken desk beset by hordes of paper.
In a large chair in the opposite corner, there sat a man of regal stature. His face was plain but bore the signs of age and twinkling behind the beads of two little eyes was an obviously keen mind. He not so much as looked you over as he examined every inch of all of you with those eyes as if beams of magic shot forth from them and relayed all possible information back.
In another chair, to the side, was another man. Slightly pudgy and looking decidely nervous. In front of them sat a crystal decanter of brandy on a silver tray with two glasses, all of which lay upon a small table. The nervous man poured himself a drink and swallowed it wholesale which in turn caused the other to give him a stern look of reproach.
Tarvoden stopped about ten feet before the chairs and swept down into a gracious bow before speaking in a booming voice.
"Your Noble Lordship, may I introduce to you the Phoenix Guard plus one. Bor of Perrenland, Grenier Elderich, M'faro of Tenh, Manzanita Sparrow, and Garrik of Zeif. Another wishes to join the company and shall present himself before you, he is Clete of the City of Hawks."
Tarvoden then stepped to the side and waved his hand in your direction and then turned to face you.
OOC: Manazanita, your Bardic Knowledge enlightened you to the fact that the the two guards outside the mayors office were wearing the insignia of Viscount Luther Derwent, the Lord of the Viscount of the March, of which you are now in. However, on meeting him, you could not quite recall his reputation. If you want to know anything further, ask a specific question in OOC. The other insignias belonged to Lord Veris Montaigne, though you're not sure of his station or reputation.
EDIT: Ack! It's Lord Luther DeRWent, not Dement... sheesh!
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M'faro
First Post
As Tarvoden speaks M'faro holds his holy symbol of Pelor and silently prays...
Oh Sun Father, gimme strenght and light my path in the mission ahead
Giving one step forward and assuming attention position (heels together, body erect, arms at the sides, and eyes to the front) M'faro proudly speaks...
My name is M'faro of Tenh. I belonged to the cavalry of the ducal army. I was assigned to a special unit of troll hunters, the "Flames of Tenh", stationed near the Troll Fens. It's an honor to be a member of the Phoenix Guard, Sir.
With a sharp nod, he steps back into "formation".
Oh Sun Father, gimme strenght and light my path in the mission ahead
Giving one step forward and assuming attention position (heels together, body erect, arms at the sides, and eyes to the front) M'faro proudly speaks...
My name is M'faro of Tenh. I belonged to the cavalry of the ducal army. I was assigned to a special unit of troll hunters, the "Flames of Tenh", stationed near the Troll Fens. It's an honor to be a member of the Phoenix Guard, Sir.
With a sharp nod, he steps back into "formation".
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Grenier
First Post
"Your Lordship."
Grenier takes the effort to bow properly.
"Grenier Elderich from Geoff, son to a fallen knight of dispatch, Markus the Glorious Griffon Elderich. I am gifted with the power to wield magic, and am quite proficient with the weapons I carry.
"If a man such as Tarvoden is one of your company, I stand ready for you, your Noble Lordship."
Grenier takes the effort to bow properly.
"Grenier Elderich from Geoff, son to a fallen knight of dispatch, Markus the Glorious Griffon Elderich. I am gifted with the power to wield magic, and am quite proficient with the weapons I carry.
"If a man such as Tarvoden is one of your company, I stand ready for you, your Noble Lordship."
OOC: Hi everyone, sorry for the delay....I'm on board now (no pun intended.) So Djoran, hands off my PC! ;-) I'm going to do a little retcon here. Earlier, when Tarvoden addressed Garik at the tavern and asked if he was joining them, his reply looked more like this:
Garik is an imposing man, covered in a strange grey silken tunic that obscures him from head to toe. Only a slit reveals his eyes, after the fashion of some Baklunish, and his green eyes appear intense and alert. He has been standing against a beam, refusing to take a seat besides the other companions and has spoken not a word since they assembled. The very observant will note that he has devoted most of the attention of his stare to the lady, Manzanita, but seems to be evaluating every one of his companions from afar.
When Tarvoden arrives and addresses him, the strangely dressed warrior looks slightly uncomfortable, but extends a hand in a curt gesture, then bows slightly saying nothing. The other hand rests on a great curved blade, carefully sheathed at his side which shadows his every motion. As they depart, he follows everyone out of the tavern, maintaining a short but conspicuous distance.
Garik is an imposing man, covered in a strange grey silken tunic that obscures him from head to toe. Only a slit reveals his eyes, after the fashion of some Baklunish, and his green eyes appear intense and alert. He has been standing against a beam, refusing to take a seat besides the other companions and has spoken not a word since they assembled. The very observant will note that he has devoted most of the attention of his stare to the lady, Manzanita, but seems to be evaluating every one of his companions from afar.
When Tarvoden arrives and addresses him, the strangely dressed warrior looks slightly uncomfortable, but extends a hand in a curt gesture, then bows slightly saying nothing. The other hand rests on a great curved blade, carefully sheathed at his side which shadows his every motion. As they depart, he follows everyone out of the tavern, maintaining a short but conspicuous distance.
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As M'faro steps back into formation, Garik steps towards him as the others make their introductions. He reaches out a hand and points at the holy symbol that was displayed. He whispers in a low voice, speaking for the first time in a heavily accented common.
"Are you of the Exalted Faith, Flannish?"
"Are you of the Exalted Faith, Flannish?"
Clete waits his turn and steps forward, taking great care to be as respectful as possible
"Your Noble Lordship
I am Clete Boyer, originally from Furyondy. I have heard great things about the Phoenix guard, and would be very honored to join. I offer my bow and my eyes. I have served a a guard and scout on many journeys in service of some of Greyhawk City's most esteemed merchants.
Clete bows and steps back in line
"Your Noble Lordship
I am Clete Boyer, originally from Furyondy. I have heard great things about the Phoenix guard, and would be very honored to join. I offer my bow and my eyes. I have served a a guard and scout on many journeys in service of some of Greyhawk City's most esteemed merchants.
Clete bows and steps back in line
Standing back from the rest, Bor waited until everyone else had replied. Seeing that Garik was not about to say anything, aside from rudely whisper, he sighed and moved forward.
"I am, ahh, your noble worship, Bor from Perrenland and I...
I'm a farmer, is what I am. Damn this, why can't Tarvoden just up and tell us what's going on without all this jeblin fuss.
"I'm a warrior of the Quaglands, Sir, trained in pike and spear by my brethren in the Sepia Uplands. Bor Zeisdragen Vuurzward, at ahh, at your service.[/i]
Well that was awkward. I almost hope he refuses us then we can be out of here and find some proper employment.
Bor awkwardly bowed and then moved back into place amongst the others.
"I am, ahh, your noble worship, Bor from Perrenland and I...
I'm a farmer, is what I am. Damn this, why can't Tarvoden just up and tell us what's going on without all this jeblin fuss.
"I'm a warrior of the Quaglands, Sir, trained in pike and spear by my brethren in the Sepia Uplands. Bor Zeisdragen Vuurzward, at ahh, at your service.[/i]
Well that was awkward. I almost hope he refuses us then we can be out of here and find some proper employment.
Bor awkwardly bowed and then moved back into place amongst the others.
