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Message: <blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 1325634" data-attributes="member: 2292">Cammar Vengallar chews his mutton slowly, glaring at the door.  The two kobolds that stand on either side of the portal hold themselves at stiff attention, unwilling to meet the aging clerics steely stare.  Vengallar barely notices his guard’s rigid nervousness.  He reaches a gauntleted hand out and snatched the mug of dirty Reldannar wine, swills it over his palate.It’s been three hours.  Why hasn’t Cromwell reported.The High Justicar of Borr tries to force such thoughts from his mind, spears another slither of mutton on the end of his fork and tears it free with his teeth.  He gains a small measure of satisfaction as he scrapes the metal of the form along his lip, feels the points’ slowly teasing the thin skin.  Geoffrey is a soldier of the church, a warrior and a justicar that had served with distinction in his novitiate.  The unruly nature of his companions, the strange reports the other kobolds made about his Brother of the Fist, none of these were necessarily the clerics fault.Cammar Vengallar twisted free a chunk of bred and soaked it in the watery stew.  The heavy sound of gauntlet against door echoed just as he forced the sodden lump into his mouth.  He swallowed quickly and glared at the portal once more.“Justicar Cromwell, ready to report,” the voice on the other side announced.  Cammar permitted himself a brief smile.“Enter.”Cromwell strode into the hall, the Drakkarite on his heels.  Both men held themselves at rigid attention as the High Justicar watched them.“I take it your mission for the king was a success.”  “Sir,” Cromwell said.“Report,” Cammar ordered.  “Tell me anything that may be of use.”Cromwell speaks, running through the group’s actions with military precision.  Cammar returns to his food, eating slowly as he listens.  Most of the events are fairly mundane, the kind of danger and combat any justicar faces in the wild.  It isn’t until Cromwell begins to speak of Thorbeck, and the acquisition of the Charosian citizen that had followed them back to civilization, that the High Justicar gives them his full attention.“You say that you were paid to protect the psion?” He asks.  Cromwell nods cautiously, and for a moment Cammar thinks he can see a flash of fear in his eyes.“Yes.”“Was the trade worthwhile?”“Merchant give us scroll,” Blarth announces eagerly.  “Bring us back from dead.”The flash of fear behind Cromwell’s eyes is replaced by a look of anger.  Cammar Vengallar permits himself to arch an eyebrow and looks to Cromwell in surprise.“Let me see it,” Cammar orders.  With a wary look, Cromwell digs through his pack and produces the roll of vellum.  Cammar unfurls it and scans the sigils written there.  They are jagged and harsh to look at, obviously the work of a crude culture.  Even worse, the texture of the parchment seems strangely odd.  The High Justicar pulls one hand free from its gauntlet and runs it over the scroll.“Are you aware of what this is written on?” He asks.“I thought leather,” Cromwell replies, but the look in his eyes reveals that he’s not entirely sure that’s true.“That’s human skin, Justicar,” Cammar announces sternly.  “And those runes are like nothing I’ve seen forged by human hand.  I’m holding onto this for the moment – it will be returned to you once its origins are ascertained and I’m assured that it contains no lingering evil.”“Agreed, sir,” Cromwell announces.  His blue eyes blaze with carefully held anger, the kind of emotion that would almost be imperceptible to anyone who hadn’t spent their life learning to read the most subtle cues.  Cammar smiles to himself.  The rage would be good for the young Justicar, give him the strength to get the job done.  He nods at the young cleric to continue and soaks in all he can about the dwarven kingdom.“Very well,” Cammar says.  “Now tell me about the meeting you just had with the King.  Word for word, I wish to know what was said…”</blockquote>

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