(Casual D&D) A Game of Trust

[Guilt Puppy]

Rejuvenation

Time passes: Premule stops by to confirm the deliverance of your letter to Visach Cheraul, but has little more to say on the subject. He is off almost immediately, to retrieve his own letter from Jance, and to tend to his own matters there.

You find a welcome home at the Temple of Pelor... Shelter as well as some meager food (it seems to be dear in this city) is given freely, although Fendric meets with some reproachful eyes that he has not persuaded you toward donation -- at least until they have a better sense for how light your pockets have become, and how important your mission seems.

The days pass peacefully enough -- perhaps too peacefully, compelling some, it would seem, to dawdle. Merrim, for one, is quite happy telling stories and doing tricks with Niccolo at the local taverns and markets -- to help pay for resupplying, she insists, as the mountains to the west have a reputation for being difficult. Victus seems to have doubts of his own, still wondering where the reward is in this. Draven seems generally unhappy with the city, and grows ever more reclusive.

Finally, Victus insists on assembling the six of you together for conversation, early one evening.

"It's been four days now since Premule left. I was hoping we'd hear word by now," he says, although his tone of voice suggests he is saying something very different. "We haven't."

"Probably busy trying to tidy up his ranks, I imagine," Merrim adds. "Things did seem pretty chaotic when we went through."

"Right." Victus seems impatient, but moreso with himself. "And waiting here isn't getting the rest of this job done. So we've talked,"

"I also talked to Draven." Merrim seems very proud of herself.

"And we think it's best if you go ahead and leave without us."

Merrim nods somberly.

"We'll stay long enough to follow up on Premule, you can trust us with that..." Victus pauses, worried he will have to deal with protest. "But after that, it'll only slow you guys down if you wait to catch up with us."

Draven, silent up to this point, interjects suddenly: "If you care for your mounts at all, I suggest you don't sell this on this side of the mountains. Most of the meat I've seen here -- beef, chicken, anything -- has been cut about half-half with horseflesh."

"I was thinking anyway," Victus adds, "you might try to find some folks around here to join you, so you might be carrying the same weight." He scratches his eyebrow. "Find 'em the same way we got found, I guess."

The rest is left out, but has been clear for some time anyway: Victus feels this mission is a waste of his time, Draven feels these people are a waste of his time, and Merrim... Her motives are harder to judge. Fear, maybe? Homesickness?

"We'll be staying with the Heironeous boys tonight, and til Premule comes. So we can see him first thing... and because this hospitality just doesn't seem like ours any more."

Victus pauses, again.

"And so nobody stays up all night, worried about goodbyes." He grins at this, a little more sentimental than he usually shows, and casts a glance at Aerda -- followed by a hearty and chuckling hug.

Merrim moves first to Niccolo, giving him a friendly hug and whispering to him quietly: "Promise me you won't let the big ones get too boring, okay?"

As the exchanges continue, Draven makes his way toward Fendric, as inconspicuously as possible.

"Look," he says. "I know when we met, you all had some doubts about me... Don't know if I ever proved those wrong or right. But I also knew you stood up for me, anyway..." He bobs his head gently, looking a little distant. "Thanks."

-------------------------------------------------

The next day, you are awakened at dawn by the earthly choirs of Pelor -- perhaps the most pleasant wake-up call in this world, and one to be missed. You find that Merrim has left a gift for you -- four weeks of trail rations, and some old-looking but sturdy cold-weather outfits for each of you. A note reads: "Hope these fit. I hear the mountains are cold. It was the best we could find for what we had... And thank Victus too, he helped me get a good price on the food." One piece of gold, two pieces of silver, and eight copper can also be found in a small pouch near these piles.
The outfits fit, well enough at least that they won't get in the way.

(It's time to go out and find your new party members, and it's also time to level up -- Aerda, Fendric, and Niccolo, all take 2000 XP so I'm sure you're at third and not behind the new players. Also, Niccolo gets 24 gp to represent the work he did with Merrim during that segue. Not much, but it should help keep you guys fed and boarded.)

 

[Reiter]

Well then

Aerda was troubled by their leaving, but anyone could tell he wasn't sentimental. He kept distance, after-all, what else can an elf do? In their lifetime, humans will more than just leave their presence, but also shrivel and die while he is still a relatively young elf. This elf may be a bit haughty, but it might be acceptable. Or maybe that's just an excuse...

He woke up, shaking his head at the gifts and supplies left by the others, smiling as he had his turn to read the note, passing it on afterwards.

He stood up slowly, he was wearing magely robes and more travel-worthy clothes under it, a slit in the back of the robes for mobility showed this. He pulled on leather riding gloves, and pushed black hair from his face. "So, It's just us now, is it? Well, we really should get some help, that advice, atleast, was sound." He proudly displays the rapier on his hip and the shortbow on his back, and looked at those left. "We should split up, and look for others."

 

[Guilt Puppy]

(Well, I'm assuming you all agree to split up, and look for others... I think I'm going to get out and push this thread for a while, to give you guys a chance to get back in the flow.)

Aerda: In your journeys around town, you run into Nurthk, off-duty and drinking in tavern at the edge of the Common Market. (Hopefully Festy can be brought back around so you can play that out.)

Fendric: Let's just say you stick around the temple, looking to find you acolytes agreeable to your cause. It seems rather dry: Most don't want to abandon Bethel in such seemingly dangerous times, and you get the sense that some are even looking forward to the thought of outright battle...

Niccolo: In the Old Market, at the edge of the city's central wall, you spot a stout wooden door shadowed under a staircase: "Ghant's Tavern," a small wooden sign reads. There's a certain gnomish flair to the carved script -- perhaps here you can find someone else who could appreciate all the old stories as Merrim had.

Inside, the barkeep is indeed a gnome -- though a very tall one, almost four feet you'd say -- but the only customer is a man, short blond stubble on his scalp, face pale and stern. He is dressed in a loose black tunic with a clean white undershirt peeking through the top, and black trousers. A long, thin hat -- black as well -- sits on the bar beside his drink, which appears to be water.

"Water silvered with raspberry," he says, holding it up once your gaze catches it. "A drink flavored to clear the mind, ordered rarely, and served only by a very particular class of establishments." The emphasis on that word, 'particular,' seems bizarrely heavy, to say the least.

"Come, sit down. Have one." He makes a swift two-finger wagging motion at the barkeep, who immediately sets to work, silently. "I've been waiting for a chance to talk to one of you alone."

The man in black looks down at you, smiling. His eyes are a clear, piercing sky blue -- so much so that you would swear, if you just looked a little closer, you would see clouds.

 

[Guilt Puppy]

(Double-post, and a fine time to say the boards have been driving me nuts lately. After about a half-hour of trying to get the boards to both keep me logged in and actually respond at all at the same time, bam, it goes through twice. What?)

 

[Festy_Dog]

Nurthk notices Aerda walk into the tavern.

A newcomer! Must invite him for a drink, get some stories out if him. At least until Fred gets off duty.

"Morning," Nurthk greets the elf with, "You're not a usual, sit yourself down and I'll buy you a drink."

Before Aerda sits down though Nurthk has already ordered a couple of mugs.

"What brings you here?" he asks conversationaly.

 

[dpdx]

Fendric settled back into Temple life a little too easily after the sending. If it were possible to find Father Premule in the capital, as well as the king, there might be others on Exantrius' list, also here to meet with the Visach, and it kept him in Bethel.

However, as useful as life at the Bethel Temple had been (regular access to more experienced clerics had given Fendric a chance to pray for and use more powerful healing magicks, as well as sharpen up his combat sensibilities), the doubt that he was doing right by Exantrius by staying in town nagged at him over time until he began to make discreet inquiries about what was going on around him. Daily walks through the districts gave him a chance to look around, sensing the mood of people. It wasn't shiny, Pelor be praised.

So when half the adventuring group retired, for a half-second Fendric thought of getting another sending issued to Duff at Hedrogura Temple: please send another acolyte, I can't do this anymore. But then that doubt crept in again; Fendric would think of Exantrius, looking disappointed from high above. Shaking hands with the departing members, Fendric bid them safe journey, May the Light Shine Upon You, Always, etc. Fendric took a look around at those who stayed; Niccolo, Aerda, and himself. "I don't imagine I wish to sell our mounts just yet, do you? In any case, I shall try to see if anyone at the Temple wishes to join us. Pelor Keep You, and if we wish to set out again, you know where to find me."

 

[Uriel]

Niccolo takes a seat near the odd man, taking the prooffered drink. One of us?
Finding that an odd statement, the Gnome says 'Well, friend, I'm all ears. If you wanted to speak to myself or my companions, here now is your chance.'

Musing over this and still a bit sad at the parting of ways with his friends (especially Merrim, his little Jester-Friend), Niccolo waits to hear what the man has to say.

 

[Guilt Puppy]

Niccolo: "I appreciate your willingness to listen... But I have more to show you than I have to tell, just now..."

He removes a ring from his fingers, a simple silver band, not well-polished, hard-edged... He holds it out in front of you, so you can see through it.

"One of your friends, the elf with the hawk, he wears something on his hand, a ring or perhaps a glove or gauntlet... Something the old knight use to wear?"

Not waiting for an answer, he blows softly through the ring he holds... blows smoke, in fact, which is not such an impressive trick on its own -- with a little time you could likely do the same -- but as the smoke dissipates, you find that some has settled in the center of the ring... It swirls, slow and hazy, but slowly resolves into an image, a face, a half-orc you'd guess, although the angle is strange...

The man in black begins to tilt and tweak the ring softly, and the view sweeps across something to hazy to recognize, settling again on another face: Aerda, clearly, and from a hand's eye view.

He blows again, air this time, and the image is gone, just thin wisps of smoke now twisting away into nothingness in the air above the bar.

"Now, here's the thing: I didn't make the thing your friend wears, nor was it made for me to see through... But it was made for someone to see through, and I doubt this someone's intentions are quite in line with yours."

He places his ring back on his finger, then takes another sip of water silvered with raspberry.

"What's more, I doubt seeing is all it does. I imagine it can hear, though I haven't stolen any of its sound, and I find it quite likely that it can," he taps the side of his head, "peek."

"Which is a shame, because I have some things I'd like for you to know, because I think we're both working toward the same end with different pieces of the same puzzle... But I don't want to share much while this other watches you, you know? So I have a favor to ask..."

Another sip.

"I'd like if you talked to your other friend, the half-elf who wears the holy symbol of, ah, Pelor is it? The sun god. Don't tell him about me or what I've shown you, just convince him to talk to the full-elf, on his own, so you're not there to let anything slip" another tap to the head "about why this is really being done, and try to get rid of this thing he wears. Make up whatever story you have to, just be convincing. Have it sent south, with a trusted courier, as far south as possible... What it sees there won't matter at this point."

"Once you've done this, just continue on with whatever you have planned... When you need to, you should know how to find me, and then we can have our real talk, all of us together."

"Of course, if you decide against it, or if you can't convince Sunny, or he can't convince Birdie, or whatever, I'll know about that," he taps his own ring briefly, "so don't bother looking for me, because I won't be found. Just continue like we'd never met: You might still do just fine on your own."

He finishes his drink in one long swallow, takes his hat, then stands.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to be leaving before you get too familiar with my face. You understand, I'm sure."

Meanwhile, Fendric: During your time at the temple, your story seems to attract the attention of a young man named Hiritus... His type is one you've surely encountered before, and easy to recognize, fifteen years of age at best and yet filled from ear to ear with thoughts of glorious, dutiful service to Pelor taken to an extreme -- not mere devotion, but a seeming detachment from reality... He tells you of his first reactions to the arrival of the undead, and seems completely impressed and enthusiastic: Sure that this was a sign of great strife for the brothers of Pelor.

All the same, however, he is a brother of the cloth, and he does seem interested in joining your venture... "It's clear," he says, "that there is great work to be done, and none better suited than the devoted of Pelor." Which, under present circumstances, can't seem like an entirely poor observation...

 

[Uriel]

<Sense Motive total of 23...>

 

[Guilt Puppy]

<Sense Motive total of 23...>

At no point during his talk does it seem like he is trying to mislead you, although it is clear that he is being rather deliberate with his choice of words, aside from the few moments where he slips into his slightly peculiar casual voice.