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<blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 4761636" data-attributes="member: 16069"><p>The Friday Knights in Sellswords of Fallcrest</p><p></p><p>Part 3: Nature comes to Town.</p><p></p><p>“What we need is a plan.” Ignaran, the Druid, whispers back and clings to the slick tile roof. He’s a little out of his element, although in the elements, he’s soaked to the skin.</p><p>“We need someone to go take a look.” Cathal grumbles, he even grumbles when he whispers.</p><p>The warrior stares hard at Kullervo.</p><p></p><p>Eventually the young Rogue cottons-on, nods once, grins a little, nervously, then slips over the peak of the roof onto the lea side, and abruptly disappears into the night.</p><p></p><p>Ignaran and Cathal wait a while, several ‘whiles’ in fact, they’ve just the rain and each other for company.</p><p></p><p>“Where'd you find him?” Cathal eventually grumbles, if only to break the silence.</p><p>“I knew him, or rather, knew of him, back in Phsant- that's a little village just outside of...” </p><p>“I know where it is.” Cathal snaps back.</p><p>“What good is he?” he adds.</p><p>Ignaran takes his time with an answer, he counts to ten twice, all the time staring, with a fixed smile, at Cathal’s sodden beard. In truth Ignaran had already decided that Cathal was not a people person, but that counted for little. The way he wore his armour, the sheen of his sword- Ignaran knew the warrior could be relied upon.</p><p>“He'll prove his worth before the end, of that I have no doubt.” The Druid whispers back and smiles some more, “as will we all”, he adds for good measure.</p><p>Cathal grunts and goes back to peering into the impenetrable dark [1].</p><p></p><p>Ignaran's arrival in Fallcrest had been much easier than Kullervo’s, although in truth he had been loathe to even enter the city, he'd been to the place before, even stayed in the city a while- but that was a long time ago. Besides he had been sent for, by Nimozaran, High Wizard and Septarch of Fallcrest; a grand title, particularly for an old man who wore mismatched slippers with his frayed magical robes [2], always had crumbs in his beard, and dribbled a little - not always when he was asleep.</p><p></p><p>Two days ago, at ten bells, the gates of Fallcrest had opened for him, and just him. There'd been a guard sent to meet him, guide him to Nimozaran's tower, he knew the way but appreciated the company, the crowded streets of Fallcrest made Ignaran itch [3].</p><p></p><p>“Why are the gates shut?” Ignaran enquires.</p><p>The guard points the way, clears a passage through the crowd, Ignaran flinches a little.</p><p>“Bandits on the Trade Road 'tween here and Winterhaven [4]- an uprising, humanoids- they need putting down for good if you ask me.” The guard confirms and elbows a young man aside.</p><p>“Sorry.” Ignaran nods at the injured party and moves on as quickly as he can.</p><p>“Have they attacked the city, or threatened to do so?”</p><p>“Nah. Markelhay's just being cautious, keep the merchants off the roads- don't want any more caravans disappearing.” [5]</p><p>Ignaran nods by way of reply- there are a lot of people about, and now he's had a chance to have a good look at them, the citizens of Fallcrest, they look tired, grim.</p><p>“They look...” Ignaran scans the crowd, the guard understands- smirks.</p><p>“Trapped- that's the down side, shut the gates and you've suddenly got a lot of people frightened about what's out there; leave them open and you run the risk of what's out there getting in, can't win.” The guard shrugs, and shoos more of the crowd out of the way.</p><p></p><p>The rest of the journey was fairly unspectacular, although it was obviously true what the guard said, tensions were running high in places, people squabbled over meat at the market, argued outside the pubs and taverns- the City of Fallcrest was at odds with itself.</p><p></p><p>Over the lea of the tiled roof Kullervo appears, one moment there's nothing, the next there's Kullervo [6]- Cathal grunts- clearly surprised.</p><p>“He's good at that.” Ignaran offers with a smile.</p><p>“Well, report?” Cathal barks- the sound of the rain on the roof is almost deafening. No one's going to hear them, they can barely hear themselves.</p><p></p><p>“The alley dog-legs left into a small courtyard, there's something down there- a statue... or a well, something. There are windows there, we could get in... Actually, I could get in.” Kullervo nods at Cathal's armour.</p><p>“Don't worry about me.” The warrior grunts, “go on.”</p><p>“Anyway, where it turns left there's a low flat roof, on the opposite side of the alley- we could go around, although it'd take a while, and it's slippy; or we could jump down and get up on the other side.”</p><p>“Just finish your report.” Cathal's patience is wearing thin.</p><p>“Three guards on the flat roof- a fat one, a thin one, and a big one [7]; the fat one and the thin one are discussing something, the big one isn't joining in... he looks a bit... you know, simple.”</p><p>“And in the alley itself- where's the door?” Ignaran, who up till now had been silent, enquires with a reassuring smile.</p><p>“'bout ten yards straight on from here, and down; the guards will see us though.” Kullervo finishes his report, rubs himself down trying to get his circulation going again, if they don't move soon they're going to be good for nothing.</p><p></p><p>[1] Impenetrable Dark, or “Off-Black”, street name “Business Hours”, scores 1 on the Dark Scale, recognising the Scales of Dark is a commonly taught skill, particularly in the Thieves’ Guilds and the better schools of Fallcrest. Dark-Dark, or “Black”, street name “Oof”, is to be avoided at all costs, even by our dagger-wielding brethren, that's when accidents really happen.</p><p> </p><p>[2] Nimozaran's left slipper bears the legend “Best Dad”, only someone has added the word “Wiz” betwixt “Best” and “Dad”; it therefore now reads “Best WizDad.” The right slipper is shaped like a huge lion's paw- Nimozaran was heard to exclaim once- “no one can track me”, while the contrary is actually true. His robes are held together by clotted egg yolk, he's not big on solids.</p><p></p><p>[3] Although that may have been the fact that he used the albumen of lizard eggs as a detergent, although not often- which may also have been a factor.</p><p></p><p>[4] Winterhaven- we'll get there later, relax.</p><p></p><p>[5] Actually no caravans have to date “disappeared”, they have in fact spread out, increased in size, what with the tumble of belongings, and the scattered burnt and abused bodies of those that formerly travelled with the caravan.</p><p></p><p>[6] One of the many benefits of impenetrable dark, see [1].</p><p></p><p>[7] Union rules, Mercs Guild- three guards= one fat, one thin, one big and stupid; the Friday Knights were fortunate that the Beggar King could only afford three guards, a four person guard unit requires the addition of “one who knows what he is doing”, close call.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Goonalan, post: 4761636, member: 16069"] The Friday Knights in Sellswords of Fallcrest Part 3: Nature comes to Town. “What we need is a plan.” Ignaran, the Druid, whispers back and clings to the slick tile roof. He’s a little out of his element, although in the elements, he’s soaked to the skin. “We need someone to go take a look.” Cathal grumbles, he even grumbles when he whispers. The warrior stares hard at Kullervo. Eventually the young Rogue cottons-on, nods once, grins a little, nervously, then slips over the peak of the roof onto the lea side, and abruptly disappears into the night. Ignaran and Cathal wait a while, several ‘whiles’ in fact, they’ve just the rain and each other for company. “Where'd you find him?” Cathal eventually grumbles, if only to break the silence. “I knew him, or rather, knew of him, back in Phsant- that's a little village just outside of...” “I know where it is.” Cathal snaps back. “What good is he?” he adds. Ignaran takes his time with an answer, he counts to ten twice, all the time staring, with a fixed smile, at Cathal’s sodden beard. In truth Ignaran had already decided that Cathal was not a people person, but that counted for little. The way he wore his armour, the sheen of his sword- Ignaran knew the warrior could be relied upon. “He'll prove his worth before the end, of that I have no doubt.” The Druid whispers back and smiles some more, “as will we all”, he adds for good measure. Cathal grunts and goes back to peering into the impenetrable dark [1]. Ignaran's arrival in Fallcrest had been much easier than Kullervo’s, although in truth he had been loathe to even enter the city, he'd been to the place before, even stayed in the city a while- but that was a long time ago. Besides he had been sent for, by Nimozaran, High Wizard and Septarch of Fallcrest; a grand title, particularly for an old man who wore mismatched slippers with his frayed magical robes [2], always had crumbs in his beard, and dribbled a little - not always when he was asleep. Two days ago, at ten bells, the gates of Fallcrest had opened for him, and just him. There'd been a guard sent to meet him, guide him to Nimozaran's tower, he knew the way but appreciated the company, the crowded streets of Fallcrest made Ignaran itch [3]. “Why are the gates shut?” Ignaran enquires. The guard points the way, clears a passage through the crowd, Ignaran flinches a little. “Bandits on the Trade Road 'tween here and Winterhaven [4]- an uprising, humanoids- they need putting down for good if you ask me.” The guard confirms and elbows a young man aside. “Sorry.” Ignaran nods at the injured party and moves on as quickly as he can. “Have they attacked the city, or threatened to do so?” “Nah. Markelhay's just being cautious, keep the merchants off the roads- don't want any more caravans disappearing.” [5] Ignaran nods by way of reply- there are a lot of people about, and now he's had a chance to have a good look at them, the citizens of Fallcrest, they look tired, grim. “They look...” Ignaran scans the crowd, the guard understands- smirks. “Trapped- that's the down side, shut the gates and you've suddenly got a lot of people frightened about what's out there; leave them open and you run the risk of what's out there getting in, can't win.” The guard shrugs, and shoos more of the crowd out of the way. The rest of the journey was fairly unspectacular, although it was obviously true what the guard said, tensions were running high in places, people squabbled over meat at the market, argued outside the pubs and taverns- the City of Fallcrest was at odds with itself. Over the lea of the tiled roof Kullervo appears, one moment there's nothing, the next there's Kullervo [6]- Cathal grunts- clearly surprised. “He's good at that.” Ignaran offers with a smile. “Well, report?” Cathal barks- the sound of the rain on the roof is almost deafening. No one's going to hear them, they can barely hear themselves. “The alley dog-legs left into a small courtyard, there's something down there- a statue... or a well, something. There are windows there, we could get in... Actually, I could get in.” Kullervo nods at Cathal's armour. “Don't worry about me.” The warrior grunts, “go on.” “Anyway, where it turns left there's a low flat roof, on the opposite side of the alley- we could go around, although it'd take a while, and it's slippy; or we could jump down and get up on the other side.” “Just finish your report.” Cathal's patience is wearing thin. “Three guards on the flat roof- a fat one, a thin one, and a big one [7]; the fat one and the thin one are discussing something, the big one isn't joining in... he looks a bit... you know, simple.” “And in the alley itself- where's the door?” Ignaran, who up till now had been silent, enquires with a reassuring smile. “'bout ten yards straight on from here, and down; the guards will see us though.” Kullervo finishes his report, rubs himself down trying to get his circulation going again, if they don't move soon they're going to be good for nothing. [1] Impenetrable Dark, or “Off-Black”, street name “Business Hours”, scores 1 on the Dark Scale, recognising the Scales of Dark is a commonly taught skill, particularly in the Thieves’ Guilds and the better schools of Fallcrest. Dark-Dark, or “Black”, street name “Oof”, is to be avoided at all costs, even by our dagger-wielding brethren, that's when accidents really happen. [2] Nimozaran's left slipper bears the legend “Best Dad”, only someone has added the word “Wiz” betwixt “Best” and “Dad”; it therefore now reads “Best WizDad.” The right slipper is shaped like a huge lion's paw- Nimozaran was heard to exclaim once- “no one can track me”, while the contrary is actually true. His robes are held together by clotted egg yolk, he's not big on solids. [3] Although that may have been the fact that he used the albumen of lizard eggs as a detergent, although not often- which may also have been a factor. [4] Winterhaven- we'll get there later, relax. [5] Actually no caravans have to date “disappeared”, they have in fact spread out, increased in size, what with the tumble of belongings, and the scattered burnt and abused bodies of those that formerly travelled with the caravan. [6] One of the many benefits of impenetrable dark, see [1]. [7] Union rules, Mercs Guild- three guards= one fat, one thin, one big and stupid; the Friday Knights were fortunate that the Beggar King could only afford three guards, a four person guard unit requires the addition of “one who knows what he is doing”, close call. [/QUOTE]
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