Mercy in the Nine Hells... a solo game for Isida Kep'Tukari

[Emperor Valerian]

"Well, as it seems I have 'more than an army' here, I don't need to save any of it. Tell you what; I'll meet the three of you here in two hours. The money thing will be settled by that point! And then, we can head off!"

*He'll take a look outside, and give another obnoxious grin*

"All the ballads say the heroes leave at dawn... we leave at dusk... maybe we can just make our arrival be at dawn then..."

*He'll leave the inn, and disappear into the street.*

[ooc: Tess, Haman and Roscoe have a couple hours to do whatever prepping they wish before Aust comes back.]

*When Aust returns, it is not dusk... it is closer to around one or two bells before. He comes back with a nice set of clothes, not quite matching to the standards Tess would normally set, but easily worthy of someone of either nobility or money. He also smells like he bathed, and his hair is... well... un-dingy. Behind him, he pulls a small, lankey spotted pony,.*

"Three rules of being a hero I adhere to. One, look good. Two, make an impressive entrance, and three, look good. How am I doing in regards to those?"

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

"Looking like you picked your clothes on gaudiness instead of style, entered walking on a street with a pony trailing behind you, and got your first real bath in weeks in hopes of impressing the girls," Roscoe pipes up immediately.

*Tess' mouth opens once and closes, then she ventures to speak again before Aust and Roscoe can come to blows.*

"You look very fine Aust. Come on, let's go shall we?" Tess says with a small smile, and mounts up on Sunshine. Well, it actually was the second Sunshine, a palamino mare, that she had owned, but she had grown attached to the name. "To the North!"

 

[Emperor Valerian]

"To a glorious feat!" he'll echo.

*The extra light of summer aids you on your journey, as you spend the next few days trekking north of the capital, through the heart of the Empire. These are quiet lands, not having seen war or famine in quite a long time. The fields of wheat and grain are tall and rich, the forests deep and wide. The villages and cities along the route are without cause for alarm... many of the barons in these parts have already heard of you, and are more than happy (or at least pretend they are) to settle accomodations for the party (A fact that seems to greatly impress young Aust).*

*As the days turn into a week, and then a month, the humidity of the air dips, becoming dry, and then soon the temperature begins to follow. By now, nearly a month out of Iskeldrun, the air temperature is cool. The wheat here is much shorter, the soil more scrabbly. These are the northern borders of the Empire... lands of your birth.*

*The final edge of official Imperial territory is marked by the Skaledes River, and after a long days ride, you find yourself in the town of the same name... known as "The Gateway to the North," officially. Unofficially, travelers call it, "The Last Warmth."*

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

*The final edge of official Imperial territory is marked by the Skaledes River, and after a long days ride, you find yourself in the town of the same name... known as "The Gateway to the North," officially. Unofficially, travelers call it, "The Last Warmth."*

"Sounds like a good place to start collecting information. Let's go, there used to be a good inn here called the Forsaken Moon; popular with travelers, I performed there when I was younger... Right. Off we go then," Tess says, shaking herself out of her remembrances.

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

double post

 

[Emperor Valerian]

*One thing that everyone will notice is the relatively large proportion of elves and half-elves in this town. Iskeldrun and the central areas of the Empire had hardly any elves at all.. it would be an easy guess that at least a third of this town is of some kind of elven ancestry*

[Lets just say Aust failed his Sense Motive. Utterly. Horribly.]

*Aust appears to be too busy looking at one of the local ladies to hear all of Tess' comment, till a rather sharp poke from Haman gets his attention.*

"Um... yeah. Lets," he says absently, eyes watching a half elf lady as she saunters by.

*The four of you make your way through the town towards the Forsaken Moon. The inn is high class for this area... likely bottom barrel for Iskeldrun. It's three stories, one of the taller buildings in town, next to the keep of Lord Balyn of the Northmarch.*

*The inside seems well apportioned, if well used. Today is evidently the feast day of Imir, one of the many gods of ice and snow worshipped up here. You would recognize this feast as the Feast of Coming, where celebrants 'welcome' the God of Frosts, hoping their hospitality will tame his tendency to hurt their crops when he arrives in only a month or two. There is much singing, and it appears a group of youths with pointed ears are in the tavern pit, dressed in white hats that look like icicles, singing an old song of winter lament... and doing a rather poor job of it*

"Gods Tess... I hope you sang better when you were here long ago!" Haman will growl, fighting to not cover her ears. "They must either be cursed by Jode, or have no concept of tone!"

*Aust winces as well*

"You spoke of getting information. I'm going to start by talking to those singers down there, to make them stop singing!"

*The tavern is literally full of people, though several capture your attention more than others. Obviously, the barkeep might be a resevoir of the latest gossip around. There is a man that appears to be a cleric a Imir, clad in a white bear tunic with a white wolf's fur cloak. There also appear to be several merchants at one table, looking about rather lost at what to do. Several ruddy men in skins and pelts, likely trappers, also dot the place. Finally, there are two men with thick wool tunics and fur capes, the emblem of a large white wolf's head emblazoned over their chests. Its a coat of arms that comes from no House you know of in the Empire.*

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

*The inside seems well apportioned, if well used. Today is evidently the feast day of Imir, one of the many gods of ice and snow worshipped up here. You would recognize this feast as the Feast of Coming, where celebrants 'welcome' the God of Frosts, hoping their hospitality will tame his tendency to hurt their crops when he arrives in only a month or two. There is much singing, and it appears a group of youths with pointed ears are in the tavern pit, dressed in white hats that look like icicles, singing an old song of winter lament... and doing a rather poor job of it*

"Gods Tess... I hope you sang better when you were here long ago!" Haman will growl, fighting to not cover her ears. "They must either be cursed by Jode, or have no concept of tone!"

*Aust winces as well*

"You spoke of getting information. I'm going to start by talking to those singers down there, to make them stop singing!"

*The tavern is literally full of people, though several capture your attention more than others. Obviously, the barkeep might be a resevoir of the latest gossip around. There is a man that appears to be a cleric a Imir, clad in a white bear tunic with a white wolf's fur cloak. There also appear to be several merchants at one table, looking about rather lost at what to do. Several ruddy men in skins and pelts, likely trappers, also dot the place. Finally, there are two men with thick wool tunics and fur capes, the emblem of a large white wolf's head emblazoned over their chests. Its a coat of arms that comes from no House you know of in the Empire.*

"Hang on there Aust, let me try to sweeten the tune," Tess says, putting her hand on the impetuous boy's shoulder. Taking out Fortuna and giving her harp a quick tuning, Tess begins to sing along with the tonally-challenged chorus, trying to get them in the vague neighborhood of the right tune.

It looks like we'll have plenty of people to choose from to talk to, but I want to see what this does first...

 

[Emperor Valerian]

[Tess gets a 46 on her perform check]

*It appears after only a few notes sound from her harp that the entire crowd's attention has been drawn to Tess. The youths in front stammer, some with their mouths agape as Tess joins in. A few happily sing till the end, fortunately their off-key voices seemed to be drowned out by Tess' pure tone. When she finishes, there's rousing applause, and several offers for drinks... notably from the confused merchants, who seem happy to see a fellow 'southron' in the tavern.*

"Jode be praised." Haman will say quietly, as Tess' voice dies away.

*The man clad in the wolf and bearskin is among the first to come forward. He will take Tess' hand and smile. He's perhaps fifty, clearly past his prime. His long stringy blonde hair has streaks of white, and the wrinkles in his face run as deep as the crags of the mountains. His nails are long and uncut, and his teeth are yellow and green, with foul breath to match. Tess notices something strange about his eyes, however... they seem to give off light, not reflect it.*

"I am happy to hear someone of such pure voice that knows the music the north. Though you have confused this loyal servant of the cold. You dress as if you are a southron, warmed by the coddlesome sun... yet you sing and walk like a coldborn," he'll say. "You must be a traveler of long distances. What brings you to my realm?"

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

"I was born in the north, and have returned to it after a long journey to expand my music and understanding. It seems there are rumors that the North is troubled by more than weather these days, and I came to see if I could help. My name is Tess, good man. Could I have the honor of your name?" Tess says politely, ignoring the stink of the man. Most northerners didn't bother to wash for fear of catching cold, so while the man was far riper than normal, he was not exactly unusual.

 

[Emperor Valerian]

"Ah... that would put to rest some of the questions in my mind. My name is Hadrada. I watch the Lord of Frosts, and tend to his will." the man will say. "Much walks about in the north these days that is not normal weather. The ceremony of Imir comes early... the people pray that his shadow will not portend for greater ill than has already occurred. They say there is a white witch in the north, storms of greater malice gather, the clouds hang low, the wind bites hard."

*Tess would notice as the man speaks, his hand is continually wrapped around a small shard of an icicle. His eyes bespeak to nervousness.*