The Game of Kings

[MadMaxim]

Partash gets off the bed and stands up in the little room. I wonder what the others are doing right now? Well, they're probably eating. Perhaps I should join them so I don't come off as too much of a hermit. Partash walks out of the room and tries to locate the dining room on the ship. He's obviously not accustomed to traveling by ship, but he finally makes his way there. He walks into the room looking for his companions.

"Well, good evening ladies and gentlemen. Did you enjoy your dinner?"

 

[Deuce Traveler]

Doral nods in approval and passes a plate of bread and cheese to the new arrival. "Hello friend, you must try it. Oh, and do grab some wine. It helps the food go down easier."

 

[Ringmereth]

[OOC: Partash still hasn't revealed his true identity, so Carver still only knows him as Parlinor Tashlov

I'd also note that, unless I'm missing something, Partash didn't inform anyone of his meditations.

 

[Bront]

Carver sits in on the dinner discussion quietly listening, which is a little odd for Carver, but he seems quote intent on listening.

 

[MadMaxim]

Partash finds a seat next to Doral and starts eating and drinking. Once he finishes, he adresses the entire group. "I'm sorry to first show up now, but the teachings of the Host require a certain amount of praying be done every day."

 

[Ringmereth]

As the conversation dies down and Parlinor begins his late dinner, a blonde half-elf sailor enters the galley and efficently clears away the meal's remains. "Ah hope ye enjoyed th' supper," he says while refilling an ale pitcher and retrieving a platter formerly heaped with salad. With a smile, he glances out the window at the dusky sea. "By this time on th' 'morrow ye'll be settin' foot on the docks o' Port Verge," the crewman predicts, and with careful steps takes the stack of dishes from the room.

 

[stonegod]

Just as Parlinor is arriving, the kobold says to the Doral, "Yes, I believe that is a servicable plan." It then turns and looks intently at the new arrival, but says nothing.

~~

When the plates are cleared, the kobold finally addresses Parlinor. "A templar of the faith, then? And do you have any thoughts on the journey?"

 

[Bobitron]

Glasia looks a little nervous at the prospect of asking the captain, but she nods and finishes her meal. By the time the others arrive, she is ready to go.

Excusing herself, she walks across the deck, looking for a crewmember and inquiring as to the captain's whereabouts. Once she meets him, she smiles prettily and introduces herself.

"I did have a few questions for you, if you have a moment. Once we are in port, how long are you staying? Where do you sail to next? How much would a ticket cost to continue onward? Oh, and cargo, something not very large. Maybe the size of a barrel. Would that cost much to transport?"

 

[MadMaxim]

When the plates are cleared, the kobold finally addresses Parlinor. "A templar of the faith, then? And do you have any thoughts on the journey?"

Partash passes his empty plate to the half-elf sailor while keeping an eye on the kobold. "Indeed, Sir. However, I'm more of a field researcher in all matters arcane and divine, though my faith certainly lies with the great Sovereign Host." He picks up his glass and takes another sip of the wine before answering the kobold's second question:

"I do have thoughts concerning our journey and our mission. I can only hope for a successful and peaceful outcome, and I certainly hope we can reach our goals through negotiation rather than use of force. So I propose a toast to a successful mission." He raises the glass once more clear for everyone to see. "To us", he smiles.

[OOC: A Bluff check might be in order on this one. Partash is stretching the truth concerning his faith a bit]

 

[James Heard]

"Here's to the successful negotiation through force that is always inevitable. And to whatever is in our cups, may it squash the nightmares of our youth and become the indiscretions of our future."

The archer belches loudly, turns on his heel and walks out, pausing only so long as to snatch up his ubiquitous rag-wrapped longbow and to wave a vaguely obscene gesture to the skies as he leaves.