The Ancient Paths - Path I

[hippocrachus]

~ Dowkan ~

"The last thing I want is that arrogant fool thinking I owe him something or worse, that I need his help!" she says in something short of a bark. She clears her throat and smoothes her features before going on. "The truth is, I was going to do it myself, but I was...taken in by Braggi and the Tyrrans. Now I have a duty to Silverdown..."
Until I find a chance to leave!
"Your dream is the bridge I have to make any connection by. I'm not certain by any means, but I believe there is more to those caves than a solitary ogre and a band of crazy-eyed kobolds. I need you to make certain of it."

 

[Legildur]

"Aye, well then, I'll do me best, milady," Dowkan replies and sketches a short bow before leaving to find Sunder.

 

[Majin]

Nae'talis' facial expression did not change as Harad laid down sentence, but the mage immediately communicated with his raven familiar who he had let fly about outside his current location, as usual.

Follow from a distance. Scout out possible escape routes. Stand ready nearby, he told the raven.

He would not sacrifice his dignity by making a scene. But he would constantly be on the lookout for an oppurtunity to slip away. He was not certain what his brethren would do to him when he was back in their hands, but he did not believe it to be pleasant. His studies were likely to be setback years; that is, if he managed to survive the return into their hands at all.

He stared hard at Harad, studying the man, but did not say a word. He had thought the man predisposed towards his innocence, which was peculiar to begin with. Perhaps his claim of following only his own code pinched a nerve with such a man of "law". Rather a sheep, than a shepard, the Thayan concluded. A reaction he should have known better to expect anyhow. He mentally filed the thought away and vowed to only speak in such an antagonizing way with authority in the future when his pride was on the line. Otherwise, they would be told exactly what they wanted to hear.

He sat, waiting patiently to be led away, and hoping that Shadar would have luck finding a route of escape.

 

[hippocrachus]

Following the Music

“A toast! To Justice!” Ali’shaun touches the rim of his wine glass to that of the wizard assassin’s sitting beside him. Cithara meets the toast with a full-lipped grin. “There’s nothing more poetic!” he says and takes a sip. He launches the still-full glass at the iron golem standing guard silently in the corner. Yes, Radcliff still had his uses.
“The Spellguards will be able to trace the gate back to here…” she remarks on the magical door she used to travel from Silverymoon to the Rashemen border.
“What can they do? Start a war?” He laughs bitterly. “Let them come; I have more important things to worry about. With the Tyrrans out of the picture, the ogre mage’s phylactery is as good as mine. That is if that fool boy stops dawdling and retrieves it!” An unseen servant brings him another glass of wine.
“He may prove loath to part with it; if it’s as powerful as you say…”
“It is,” he states, giving her an annoyed sideward glance. “To think, my mere presence near the rift could create the tear that would ruin the whole of Toril.”
“Are you sure your apostate won't now?” she asks, taking pleasure in weaving doubt into her teacher’s schemes.
“If he would stop taking his damn time about it… No. He is still too weak to force the block free. And the phylactery will prove too great an oddity for him to willingly destroy. As if he could. He will bring it from the caves and I will take it from him. It is as easy as that.” He looks at Cithara with malicious suspicion. “Stop it.”
“Stop what, Master Ali’Shaun?” she asks, feigning innocence.
“Don’t you have someone to kill? I’ll contact you again when I need you. You are dismissed.” Cithara rises with a smirk on her face and rolls her eyes as soon as her back is to the lounging Circle Leader.
“What about the token?” she asks, fingering the small golden coin in her pocket; the token needed to cast magic unhindered in Silverymoon.
“Keep it. I can have more made.”

~ Sabriel ~

The two-and-a-half day ride to Silverdown from Silverymoon goes smoothly, with special thanks to the Tyrran foot soldiers Sabriel meets heading in the opposite direction. Father Braggi, a half frost giant and the leader of the battalion, stopped her to ask the usual questions, but sent her on her way with his blessings. Far be it from him to stop an official envoy of Silverymoon. When Sabriel enters Silverdown through the west “gate,” more like a fence with half-built watch towers on either side, it is closing in on sunset.
Enellienen, a High Harper in Silverymoon, gave specific directions to Sabriel to search out the “Surreal Harpist,” where Syrriel was playing at being a store clerk and mayor.
The nice young Tyrran at the gate points Sabriel down the main road, towards the local garrison and blacksmith. The Surreal Harpist is close by.

 

[hippocrachus]

~ The Adventurers ~

The bailiff returns with two off-duty guards in tow. They walk over to Nae'talis with a set of manacles between them, but before they can clamp them shut on the wizard's wrists, a familiar, talkative voice calls from outside the courtroom. Harad quirks an eyebrow and motions for the bailiff to see what the raucous is about. As the door is opened just a crack, Wizzop pushes through brandishing a rolled up parchment like a god would a lightning bolt.
"Hold it! Hold it!" he bellows in between pants. "I have official papers here! A pardon signed by the Mayor herself!"
An observant eye might catch Harad crossing his arms with a smug expression and shaking his head at the halfling. Wizzop marches down the aisle, past Nae'talis and his two would-be imprisoners, kicking anybody's shins who isn't fast about moving, and places the paper on Harad's podium.
"It's official!" Wizzop reiterates, just proud to be apart of "official business." Harad unrolls the parchment and reads it with disinterest.
"Yes, it certainly is," the Justiciar intones. "Release him," he says to the two guards.

 

[kirinke]

Sabriel pats the neck of her horse as she looks at the half-demolished or rather mostly demolished town, she amends to herself after taking a more through look at the place. "Blessed Lurue, the High Harper didn't say just how bad the attack was," she said, half to herself and half to the horse as she dismounts and ties the reins to the hitching post in front of the shop. "Stay," she orders the horse and walks into the shop.

 

[Majin]

Nae'talis masks his surprise well as his pardon is given. Without a word and just a glance at Harad, he turns and walks swiftly to the door, ignoring Hildor as he passes. He had little interest in exactly why Syrriel had pardoned him, but he still needed to retrieve the magical items she had promised to divine for him. He mentally cancelled Shadar's vigil and sent him back to his usual routine as he made his way to speak with the mayor.

 

[hippocrachus]

~ Dowkan ~

When Dowkan leaves the Surreal Harpist, he notices a silver-haired woman on horseback coming up the main road from the west gate. Crossing over to Sunder's Smithy, he finds Sunder hard at work at the furnace again. The grizzled dwarf nods at him and looks to make sure Dowkan has the mug he borrowed. He hands off a glowing orange piece of steel to one of the apprentices and comes over to join Dowkan.
"Ye hear enough then?" he asks, refilling the mug. "I ain't one fer to talk abou' wha I ain't suppos'd t', so I left it fer the Mayor. I told ye the place wer haunt'd like."

~ Sabriel ~

Sabriel enters the modest magic shop to find a golden-haired sun elf kneeling in front of a display case. Syrriel.
"We'll be closing soon," she says over her shoulder. Rising and turning to face the new-comer, her eyes go wide and shift from side to side briefly before the rogue Harper agent smoothes her countenance. "What are you doing here?" she asks cautiously.

 

[Legildur]

"Aye, you were right enough 'bout it," curses Dowkan as he slams the mug onto the bench. "Me head spins with all the guff that's been shoved in there of late."

"Tell me then, what's this little favor you were to ask me?"

 

[kirinke]

It had been along time since she had seen the elf. In fact, she had been just a child of ten, wide eyed as she had watched Syrriel call light from just a few hummed words. "I'm sorry Harper Syrriel, but High Harper Enellienen has tasked me with bringing you in for questioning regarding the situation here in Silverdown. They want to know what's going on." she said, looking apologetic.