NOW LIVE! Today's the day you meet your new best friend. You don’t have to leave Wolfy behind... In 'Pets & Sidekicks' your companions level up with you!

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Fiasco" data-source="post: 2814502" data-attributes="member: 15187">Chapter 3The company’s safe arrival in Yorathton was a great relief to all of its members. Here at last was the end to arduous travel and endless speculation on what the Baron had in mind for them. A hard days march had seen them reach Yorathton by mid afternoon. Perched atop brilliant white cliffs, the town had grown from an old fishing village that still lay at its centre. Bastien quickly lead them through the winding main street, eager to report to his liege. The houses they passed were braced unevenly against each other, cramped for room by the narrow bluff like a mouth too full of teeth. The air was redolent of dried fish and despite the new prosperity come to the town, as evidenced by the cry of merchants and much evidence of new construction, the people seemed hard faced and grim. Yorathton was a fragile scrap of civilisation caught twixt the Cursed Sea and untamed wilderness, twin facts that could never be forgotten by its inhabitants. Having passed through the town, the road inclined towards the highest point of the cliffs. Here loomed an old keep surrounded by a stagnant moat fed only by a small stream. Though well maintained, some parts of the fortress clearly showed the heavy weight of their years. Seeing how his Baron's castle dominated the skyline, Bastien's back straightened with pride. As always, he felt his arduous travels had been well worth the hardship if only for the pleasure of returning home having successfully fulfilled his mission.On entering the modest castle, Bastien passed his charges over to the care of a fussy chamberlain. This worthy spent the best part of an hour trying to make them look presentable before escorting them to Yorath’s study. The chamber was finely decorated and furnished, indicating he was a man of taste. The two dozen books arranged on his shelves indicated he was also a man of learning, or at least had pretensions in that direction. The Baron was of average build, with thick curling brown hair and steady green eyes. His brow wore the furrows of heavy thinking but the rest of his features had the firmness and vigor of a man considerably younger. Though run a little to fat through years of sedentary occupation, he still commanded a presence that was felt by all when he subjected them to his examination. His dress was formal and expensive, if a little subdued in style. He had been perusing a scroll when they entered, which he put aside decisively, honouring them with his immediate attention rather than have them bide at his whim.The words of welcome by which he addressed them were rich and cultured, almost overly so, as though each syllable was chosen with meticulous care and enunciated with full emphasis of its individual character. The effect of this precision slowed his speech a little from the ordinary, but the meaning of what was said was thereby conveyed without ambiguity. Gerard, who waited eagerly for the opportunity to introduce himself, could only admire his would be liege’s measured poise. As when he was addressed by Prince Brand, he had the uncomfortable impression that he was in the presence of someone who possessed an effortless air of commanded that he himself could only dream of. The telling difference between the two men was that Brand inspired jealously and resentment, whereas the Baron only excited respect and admiration in him.After greetings and introductions, the Baron intimated he knew they bore news of strange happenings in Ravenswood. Gerard was quick to seize his opportunity and executing an oft practiced flourish, he set about regaling his lordship with the tale. For all his foppish ways, the young man was a gifted story teller. If he played a more decisive and commanding role in the events than the others remembered, the epic flair he imparted on all their deeds more than compensated them for it. Yorath remained largely impassive throughout the rendition of the tale, though when the mysterious absence of the mayor was mentioned, a small frown did crease his brow. The change was only fleeting though, and seemed to be forgotten as Gerard continued with his accounting of the events. By the end, the Baron was deep in thought as he mulled over the extraordinary events that had overwhelmed this quiet part of his fief. Almost as an afterthought, he asked if anything else of interest happened on their journey. It was here that Gerard truly exceeded himself. The entire encounter with the leprous assassins was recounted in such detail that his companions felt as though they were reliving the fight again. Even the Baron’s studied detachment was betrayed by his open interest as the young fop’s carefully choreographed words built to a climax. The matter of Brand’s signet ring was a particular source of fascination, and Yorath demanded to see this item immediately. Gerard duly fetched the trinket and in presenting it, just managed to resist the impulse to sketch a bow as he did so. Yorath frowned as he examined the ring then smiled openly when he was satisfied the ring was genuine. He congratulated the companions on their courage and wit and assured them that if they conducted themselves similarly through his tests they would be sure to gain a commission. He did not offer to return the ring to them, making it clear that he had a use for it. So overwhelmed were the companions by his natural command that not even Moxadder thought to object. Soon after, the meeting was terminated and they were shown from the Baron’s presence by a woman he introduced as Lady Tamandra.Their new guide showed herself to be a lady of considerable refinement. Both her dress and manners were courtly, and she commanded considerable beauty as well. Her skin was flawless and her high cheekbones offset hazel brown eyes that were alive with intelligence. Her dark straight hair was pulled up in a fashion that drew attention to the gentle curve of her long, graceful neck. When she talked, she had a habit of wrinkling the tip of her nose in a way that seemed to say that though she was high born, she didn’t consider herself beyond them in any way. Tall and slender, she appeared in her early thirties, though her privileged position had ensured that she bore none of the ravages that robbed lesser born women of their youthful beauty. Gerard was quite enchanted by her and determined then and there to pursue this woman with all his ardour. Unfortunately for him, he was to get precious little opportunity in the following weeks.The companions were shown to their quarters in a plainly furnished barracks located within the walls of the Baron’s castle. Though unadorned, their rooms performed their most important function in keeping them warm and dry. For Moxadder, born into poverty and eternally a prisoner to it, this was a luxury he had never experienced. The day after their arrival, they began performing a series of tests to determine their fitness for fighting in a gladiatorial company. Many of the exercises baffled the young aspirants but they attempted them with good will, sometimes surprising themselves with how well they performed. Riding, marksmanship, sword play, even logic and oratory were explored in order to see where their potential lay. The Baron was something of an innovator, and though some of the tests completely defeated his young charges, they still revealed much of their character to him. This, along with Bastien’s testimony on how they conducted themselves on the journey convinced him they had sufficient potential to warrant the cost of training them. On the 15th day of Low Summer, the new recruits swore oaths of loyalty to Baron Yorath and formally became his vassals. They had decided to name their gladiatorial company the Hydra, a many headed creature that hunted the swamps surrounding Irudesh City. Each member was outfitted in the green and black colours they had chosen for their company. Additionally, they were generously equipped with arms and armour at the Baron’s expense. For all save Mortec and Gerard this was a considerable rise in fortune. Morgan in particular was proud of his new status. His membership of the Hydra set him firmly down the honourable path trod by his father and elder brothers. Through skill at arms he longed to bring fame and glory to his embattled homeland. Moxadder’s feelings were more complex. Part of him took great pleasure in the simple fact of belonging to something greater than the day to day struggle for survival. Simultaneously, part of him rebelled at the loss of freedom he experienced and the pressures of having others depending on him to pull his weight. At times, the good natured comradeship of his fellows stifled him even as he gave fervent thanks that he was with people with whom he wouldn’t have to constantly watch his back. Argonne felt largely indifferent to the whole enterprise, though he had to acknowledge that being instructed in the fighting arts and woodscraft was a lot more interesting than chopping wood twelve hours a day. Stravarius, as always, kept his own council. He became more withdrawn just as his fellows started to become more comfortable with each other. Were his eyes visible, the others would have noticed they now burned for lack of sleep. Nightly he battled demons of the mind as he finally embraced certain potentialities he’d long held latent through hard fought suppression. His dreams became increasingly violent but he forced himself to endure for the sake of the power he felt growing within him. The others also worked hard to develop their capabilities, though in less sinister ways than Stravarius. The Baron’s other two gladiatorial companies were also present and some of its members devoted considerable time to training the members of the Hydra. This was especially true of the Massive Hand, whose skill at weapons play was of more interest to the companions than strange sorceries practiced by Five Kinds of Death. The training had a marked effect on the young men. They gained confidence in the use of their weapons and advice from older and wiser heads helped them with their tactics and composure under the stress of battle. More importantly, they were taught how to work together as a team, for the cauldron of the arena was unmerciful to those who failed to look out for their brothers in arms.So the weeks passed, forging the disparate group of individuals into something approaching a cohesive unit. In what little time they had outside training, the Hydra devoted themselves to their own interests. Gerard pursued lady Tamandra with a passion that sadly went unrequited. The noble woman parried his attempts at courtship with such charm that his feelings were largely spared. When she deigned to reveal small  snippets of her past and private feelings, Gerard felt more satisfaction than if he’d tumbled a half dozen wenches.Denied access to the Baron’s library, Mortec spent his time in communion with his God. After much soul searching he made a difficult choice, and bound himself to its consequences with unbreakable vows. Having seen the helpless suffering of those who chose peaceful contemplation, he dedicated himself to harnessing darker powers, the better to cowe or destroy those who set themselves against his faith. Morgan had far less weighty concerns on his mind and was content to spend his evenings in the company of the warriors from the Massive Hand, a rough and tumble substitute for the camaraderie his family once provided. Amidst the boasting and pranks of his seniors, he gained much knowledge of the ways of the arena as well as a store of battle wisdom gained by the Hand through deadly experience. Morgan found himself looking forwards to doing battle, hoping to do justice to the time invested in his tutelage.Moxadder explored the town and found some people of dubious standing who could supply him with Devil Weed. His share of Prince Brand’s reward swiftly disappeared and he was forced to sell his cache of more exotic drugs to ensure an uninterrupted supply. He spent considerable time with a herbalist, learning the arts extracting the secret virtues of plants and turning them to his own ends. When he could, he scoured the country side for the Diabolus plant from which Devil Weed was made. Occasionally, Argonne would help him in this as the young woodsman spent considerable amounts of time in the wild while leaning his craft. His instruction came largely from Maron Devlis, whose wanderings had brought him to the seat of Yorath’s power. At the Baron’s request, he had agreed to train Argonne in the art of rangering.*****</blockquote>

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