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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ladybird" data-source="post: 2901354" data-attributes="member: 10689">When Kit returned to the palace atrium a short while later, a note from the treasury and an ornate bracelet of Sending tucked away in a well-hidden inside pocket, most of the rest of the party had already assembled. She was happy to see Jet among the group of people milling about – she knew that the mercenary/chef had been feeling restless amid all of the ceremonies and restrictions of court, and had been eager to get a chance to get away. She was even more happy to see Mother Honore – for a Glordiadelian priestess, Honore was all right: reliable, trustworthy, friendly, and even had a sense of humor. Honore was talking to another clergywoman – younger, more fragile, and with a pale exotic intensity about her, dressed in the robes of a Glordiadelian nun. “This is Sister Alessandre,” Honore said, ever polite and proper when making introductions. “And this is Kashan,” she continued, gesturing down to a halfling woman, “who will be assisting us with arcane matters. “Over there is Varya. . .”“Where?” Kit interjected.“There.” Honore drew Kit a little closer, and pointed discreetly to a ledge near the side of the atrium, on which rested…“An owl?” Kit said incredulously, drawing a few stares of her own as her voice echoed around the atrium.Honore lowered her own voice a little, and leaned in towards Kit to say confidentially, “Yes, Varya is an owl. She talks. Quite intelligently, too, in fact. I’m not sure of the entire story, but I have it on good authority that she will be helpful – she’s helped combat slavers in the past. And there’s also…” Honore trailed off, as the subject of her next bit of advisory discourse drew near. “Er,” Kit said, looking down at the unmistakable small scaly form of a kobold, and putting on the most polite and least bewildered smile that she could muster. “What’s your name?”The kobold replied with a nearly unintelligible stream of clicks and trills. Kit looked at Honore, who gave her a small, apologetic smile in return. “He doesn’t speak much Common, I’m afraid. He’s very strongly opposed to slavery, though, from what we can tell.”“Say that again?” Kit leaned down, cocking her head towards the kobold. Again, the string of clicking sounds and consonants. “Wait! That bit almost sounded like ‘Twang.’ Right. You don’t mind if we call you Twang, do you? We’ve got to call you something.”The kobold – Twang – shrugged, and scampered back to the other side of the atrium, where it continued fussing over its small, flimsy traveling pack. Kit and Honore stayed where they were, looking with increasing apprehension at the odd, motley group.“Pardon me,” broke in a strident male voice behind them. They turned to see a tall man, with the light armor and light step – they hadn’t heard him approaching – of someone who spends a great deal of time in the wilderness, but with a rigidly upright bearing. “I am Gyles Lennox, dispatched to help fight this scourge of slavers in the south. Who here is the one leading this expedition?” Kit and Honore glanced at each other uncertainly. “Who here is the ranking noble? That is the one to whom I must report.” Kit looked around. The mercenary. The two clergywomen. The kobold. The owl. She felt the odd, heavy weight in her pocket of the bracelet by which she would communicate with the capital, and the heavier weight of the sword at her side. She gulped.“Um. That would be me. Dame Katherine of Lyneham. I – I guess I’m the leader.”</blockquote>

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