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Message: <blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 944373" data-attributes="member: 2292">Wednesday, September 20thThe Cuthbertite initiate that rides into Bellhold goes unnoticed.  His blue and white tabard is streaked with red mud, his face red and sweating beneath his helm.  He clenches the small pack to his chest tightly as he rides, silently chanting the precepts of duty and obedience under his breath as his horse canters through the city streets.When he reaches the courtyard of the Bell and Clapper, he slips from the horse.  There is a patch of soot on the ground, a scorch mark as though someone has lit a fire hot enough to crisp and burn the very cobblestones.  The initiate notices, but doesn’t think too much on the matter.  Y’Dey had said that there was trouble in town, that some strange magic or psionics had been involved.  Melting stone was likely another manifestation, a sign that the group the church sent here had done their job.With a final recital of the precepts, the initiate pushes open the doors of the inn.  “I’m searching for Geoffrey Cromwell,” he tells the bartender.  The half-elf simply nods, points to a sandy-haired man sitting at a nearby table.  The initiate watches him closely.  The cleric is drinking a cup of tea, his eyes trained on the initiates blue robes and Guardian’s Cross.      A half-orc, a dwarf and a kobold surround him.“It’s time to create the Warding Bell,” Geoffrey says simply as the initiate approaches.  The young boy nods, offering the small message pouch.“The ranking Justicars have arrived,” he says.  “Y’Dey requests your aid in the crafting.”“Head to the temple,” Geoffrey orders.  “Rest there.”“Time to go?” Blarth asks.  There’s a false note of eagerness in his voice, as though working for the temple may not be the foremost reason in his mind for leaving.  Geoffrey waves him off, reading through Y’Dey’s letter.“We’ve got five days,” Geoffrey comments.  “You aren’t required to come, but Y’dey has recommended you make the journey.”“Why?” Halgo asked.  “I thought we were told to stay here?  I’ve got research I could be doing.”“She wishes to discuss a request we made when I last reported,” Geoffrey tells him.  “We may not be coming back to Bellhold for some time.”He pauses for a moment, aware of the expectant look on his comrades’ faces.“It appears we may be part of the delegation being sent to Bor.”There’s a moment of quiet contemplation at the table as everyone considers the news.  It had been something of a passing fancy, the lure of the unknown continent to the north.  Tales of goblin hordes, ice and snow drifted down from the new country.  It was a wild country, a place that had known the civilizing touch of the Empire for little more than two decades.  A place where fortunes could be made, and reputation carved out of the ice that covered the continents mountain ranges.Blarth grins, pushing himself free of the table.“Where are you going?” Halgo asks.“Blarth go say goodbye.”They can hear the half-orc whistling as he exist the inn.later“You should have given her more,” Geoffrey grumbles.  “Blarth gave her lots,” Blarth says.  “Blarth give lots of gold.  More than she need to care for Blarth’s child.  She not have to work for years, and Blarth might be back by then.”“It just doesn’t seem right,” Geoffrey says.  He sigh’s heavily, feeling partially responsible for dragging Blarth away from his pregnant lady-friend.  Even if it is only a very small part.The afternoon air is crisp, although the promise of a storm lies on the horizon.  The group has made good time, their enthusiasm and dedication to duty prompting them towards a quick exit from Bellhold.  As Blarth and Geoffrey argue about the morality of leaving behind an unborn child, Halgo and Yip walk quietly behind.  Neither feels the need to become involved in the mild argument.“Drink?” Yip chirps suddenly, pulling a small flask of mead from the folds of his robe.  Halgo raises an eyebrow in surprise.“Where did you get that?” the dwarf asks.“Tokket-elf give to Yip.”  He pauses, searching for the correct word.  “Is gift?”“Ah,” Halgo says.  He sniffs the open flask, the smell of mead strong inside.  “How are the other brothers going to feel about you carrying around drink?”Yip shrugs.“Not know,” he says reasonably.  “Other Yip’s maybe not notice.  Yip is very quiet, very sneaky.  Hide things well.”A momentary flash of disgruntlement passes across his face.“Sometimes Yip think that why he here.  Serving Cleric-Geoffrey, not running with others.”Halgo contemplates the obvious internal conflict the kobolds is feeling for the space of a few breaths.  The small creature is obviously distressed by his current mission, the solitary feeling of being separated from his kin.  On the other hand, it also has mead, which means it’s a good thing he’s here right now.  With what could almost be a supportive smile, Halgo accepts the flask and takes a hefty swig of the golden liquid.  It runs like liquid velvet over his tongue, washing away a days worth of road dust, and brings a smile to the dwarf’s bare cheeks.  Yips.  Sometimes they were handy to have around.Then he notices that Geoffrey and Blarth have stopped talking, stopped moving even, and Yip is looking alert and tense in the expectation of danger.  A set of bushes just to the side of the road are rustling quietly, and everyone is looking at it with tense anticipation.A lean face pops up from behind the greenery, a face with vague elf-like features and a shock of read hair.  It grins like a feral cat, momentarily flicking a short and very pointed moustache.“Afternoon travellers,” the redhead says.  “Don’t suppose I could trouble ye for a moment of your time, no?</blockquote>

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