Mark of the Wyrm

[Redclaw]

Garren does his best to sit close to a door, or at least a window through which he can see the outdoors. He nods and smiles throughout dinner conversation, but unless someone discusses hunting or other outdoor activities he is likely to remain predominantly silent.

 

[Neurotic]

Logan

Eating easily if somewhat aritificialy, not used to such oppulence from the temples he visited, Logan watches others, both for their position at the table (if there are members not of our new group) and general behavior. Yet again he is surprised at the level of refinement showed by Deneir's priest. He watches Stonecipher, but never offers any comment, as there are orc and dragon and he cannot do any worse.

Indeed, being in his priestly garb, Logan never utters a word except for greeting everybody. He tastes everything and eats plenty of whatever he finds tasty. He drinks only red wine and in moderation. He waits for the talking to start.

OOC: What does Stoneciphers Mark look like? Is it same as mine?

 

[Tharune]

OOC: What does Stoneciphers Mark look like? Is it same as mine?

OOC: The mark appears to be the same, and roughly the same size...

If anyone at the tables have thoughts about the group, they keep those thoughts to themselves. The meal lasts a long time, long enough to be excruciating to the barbarian, but eventually, mercifully, it ends with two kinds of desserts. At the second, Ashchenon taps his glass, stands, and gives a speech; if nothing else, the young Lord knows how to talk. If the party doesn't tune him out, they hear a long dissertation on the state of Scardale and the Town itself; the importance of working together; and thanks for the adventurers who through their courage and selflessness, etc. It goes on and on.

Eventually, though, the speech ends, the dinner officially ends, and the hall breaks up into smaller knots of conversation. Those who pay attention can see that the crowd splits into groups that mirror their political factions. Ashchenon nods to the party, and with his Tempus guard as escort (you find out that his name is Polonus), leads you down long corridors to another chamber.

Here is a robed, white-bearded human, standing behind a stone table. The table is covered with runes, and in the center of the table is an open wooden box, lined with purple velvet. A longsword rests in the case, drawn partway out of an expensive looking leather scabbard; on the forte of the blade is an incribed rune, a mark the PC's know well. It matches the birthmark on their own bodies.

"This is why I wanted to speak to you," Ashchenon says. "I came into possession of the blade very recently. I do not know the meaning of this mark... imagine my suprise when I saw it again on my rescuers."

 

[Ambrus]

Vorastrix lands on the corner of the stone table and snakes his head around to look at the sword more closely. In the dimmer lighting of the room, it becomes evident that the drakeling's amber colored eyes visibly glow with their own fiery light. Blinking a few times, Vorastrix responds to the human Lord's unspoken question: "It's the mark of the red wyrm Llorranos Fyr."

 

[FreeXenon]

Grogan (Half-Orc Barbarian); HP: 31

Grogan, just happy to be away from all of that stifling formality and silver tongued dealinings, plops down on the nearest chair and starts to breathe deeply. A few beads of sweat drip down his face and you can see his clothes are mildly sweat stained. The barbarian's right eye seems to be twitching nervously every so often and a slight scent of nervous sweat can be smelled from him.

He seems to be oblivious to what is currently transpiring here, being more concerned with relaxing and regaining his barbaric composure.

 

[Bloodcookie]

Carfal nods at Vorastrix's analysis. "Aye, my own research has indicated as much... but not much else, I'm afraid," he shrugs and smiles apologetically at Aschenon. "Might I ask where you acquired the sword? That should at least provide us a point to work backwards from in making any deductions."
Carfal strokes his scraggly whiskers as he speaks, a glimmer in his eyes as he stares intently at the sword. It has been some time since his scholarly curiosity has been aroused so, and it has clearly found something to latch onto.

 

[Neurotic]

Logan

OOC: do any of the runes on the table make sense to Logan? How would you pronounce Ashchenon? Like Ash-cannon, only with 'e'?

Logan approaches and streches arms toward the sword, but doesn't touch it, looking first for permission of the Lord Ashchenon.

 

[Stonecipher]

Stonecipher feels uncomfortable from eating too much and doesn't notice the sword until its brought to their attention. As he looks at the sword his attention is drawn to the table. ((Are the runes something he can read))

 

[Ambrus]

Vorastrix snakes his head around to regard the scholarly seeming half-orc with an appraising saurian eye. "You've researched this matter yourself? Might I ask why and how?"

 

[Tharune]

Vorastrix lands on the corner of the stone table and snakes his head around to look at the sword more closely. In the dimmer lighting of the room, it becomes evident that the drakeling's amber colored eyes visibly glow with their own fiery light. Blinking a few times, Vorastrix responds to the human Lord's unspoken question: "It's the mark of the red wyrm Llorranos Fyr."

Ashchenon just stares at the drake, uncomprehending. "Who? A dragon? Does that
mean this belongs to him?"

Grogan, just happy to be away from all of that stifling formality and silver tongued dealinings, plops down on the nearest chair and starts to breathe deeply. A few beads of sweat drip down his face and you can see his clothes are mildly sweat stained. The barbarian's right eye seems to be twitching nervously every so often and a slight scent of
nervous sweat can be smelled from him. He seems to be oblivious to what is currently transpiring here, being more concerned with relaxing and regaining his barbaric composure.

Carfal nods at Vorastrix's analysis. "Aye, my own research has indicated as much... but not much else, I'm afraid," he shrugs and smiles apologetically at Aschenon. "Might I
ask where you acquired the sword? That should at least provide us a point to work
backwards from in making any deductions." Carfal strokes his scraggly whiskers as he speaks, a glimmer in his eyes as he stares intently at the sword. It has been some time since his scholarly curiosity has been aroused so, and it has clearly found something to latch onto.

"I'll tell you in a moment," Ashchenon says, half listening to all the conversations.

OOC: do any of the runes on the table make sense to Logan? How would you
pronounce Ashchenon? Like Ash-cannon, only with 'e'?

Logan approaches and streches arms toward the sword, but doesn't touch it, looking first
for permission of the Lord Ashchenon.

OOC: I've always thought ASH-she-non...

The young Lord lets Logan inspect it, but eventually reaches out a hand. "Let me show you something about it," he says.

Stonecipher feels uncomfortable from eating too much and doesn't notice the sword until its brought to their attention. As he looks at the sword his attention is drawn to the table. ((Are the runes something he can read))

OOC: the runes appear clerical in nature, as if someone made *glyphs of warding* visible and semi-permanent on the table. This probably makes the table quite valuable...

Vorastrix snakes his head around to regard the scholarly seeming half-orc with an appraising saurian eye. "You've researched this matter yourself? Might I ask why and how?"

"Do either of you know about this sword?" Ashchenon asks. (OOC: you don't) He takes the sword and suddenly stabs himself in the leg; blood wells forth and he lets out a whimper of pain as he withdraws the blade. But he holds up a hand when everyone moves to help, and after a few seconds the mark on the sword glows a hellish red. Ashchenon is bathed in the reddish light, and when it fades, the wound is reduced to a light scratch.

"I've not seen anything like it," he says.