Kahmaul shifts his position to stand directly between the incoming Invar and Umbalar Orcs. He smiles at his companions, "All shall be well."

[Private to Grondor Swordstorm: He whispers to grondor, "The Invar looks like he will be fast, watch him. Lets try not to cause too much more attention if we can."]

The Invar strides up to Kahmaul with the orcs right behind him.  He does not look pleased.  "What business do you have with that snake, Torhavich?"

"What did he say?" Dathnaea asks, unable to understand the Invar's words.  The Invar and his entourage can't see it, but Dathnaea has her hand on her dagger, ready to pull and throw at a moment's notice.

"I said, 'what business do you have with that worm, Torhavich?"  The way he sneers the word 'worm' sounds more like 'weerm'.  "Humans do not belong in Xamador. You won't last five seconds in the wild outside the city walls."  He turns half-way to his orc companions.  "I don't give them more than 5 minutes inside the city."

The orcs chuckle.  It isn't a pleasant sound.

"Please, my brother, we mean no offense.  We are simply seeking information and Torhavich has it."  The wizard does his best to calm the situation, hoping his ties of kind will diffuse his kin.

"Do not twist words with me, wizard.  You do not come here traveling with the likes of these," his hand takes in the humans with a sneer of contempt, "seeking Torhavich, and then get to claim that you are here for innocent purposes.  Any one dealing with that serpent is up to no good."

Grondor does his best to translate for those who don't speak Invaris.  When the Invar asserts that the group must be up to no good, he speaks up and asks, "what has Torhavich done that they deserve such a poor reputation in Xamador?  Coming from the eastern continent, we are ignorant in great respect to this Torhavich.  He was only cited as a source of information for us, but more than that, we know nothing.  Please, we implore you, sit with us.  We'll buy you and your friends a round and hear your wisdom concerning why we should avoid this person."

The Invar, taken aback by the warriors smooth speech, blinks at the offer.  One of the orcs leans in, but is overheard by Kahmaul, Grondor, and Vertium. "Fylon, he is no mere warrior.  That is a Swordstorm, I'd lay money on it.  Have a care how you deal with them.  They are much more than they appear."

Fylon's eyes shoot up as he gives Grondor a more thorough examination.  "A true Swordstorm, eh?  Today is a great day indeed.  Not only will we rid the world of some of Torhavich's minions, I will get to prove myself against one of the vaunted Swordstorms!"  His face goes from arrogant to menacing.  "Outside, hobgoblin, or one of your charges is liable to get hurt."

Hearing the challenge, Grondor shakes his head, crosses his arms, and becomes rooted to the spot where he sits.  Fylon continues to glare, but having laid the challenge, can speak no more or look like a wheedling fool.  The hobgoblin continues to stare him down, daring him to make a move toward one of the humans in his care.

Frustrated by the lack of response from the hobgoblin as well as the towering Anthros warrior in front of him, Fylon soon grows impatient, as many non-wizard Invar are wont to do.  He makes to draw his sword when a cool voice cuts through the silent tension, a voice that sends chills up the spines of the humans in its power and command.  "Enough, Fylon.  Go home."

Fylon's eyes go wide and he looks around for a moment before his eyes come to rest on a silhouette in a dark corner.  "Shavon!  I-I didn't know you were here."  He turns to the group and bows, "my apologies for the misunderstanding."  And like that, the Invar warrior and his two lackeys are out the door and gone.

The silhouette moves into the light to reveal a tall humanoid in concealing robes and hood.  The robes are silver in color, lined in white trim.   Though unadorned by ornament or symbol, the robes are without a doubt very expensive.  They make no sound as the one Fylon called 'Shavon' moves to the table where the Eastland group is sitting.

"Fylon is a fool looking for trouble.  He will bother you no longer.  Let him slip from your memory as unworthy of taking up the space in your mind."  Shavon's voice is smooth, cool, and compelling.  It makes one want to listen to him.  His every word promises that he will solve all problems, secure from all threats.  The suggestion to let Fylon slip from memory is almost a command that most would joyfully obey.

"You are here to see Torhavich?"

GM: Roll will saves.

The humans especially seem enthralled by Shavon's speech, but the non-humans shake off the effect.  Once the group acknowledges their plan to meet with Torhavich, Shavon bids them come with him.  Without compelling reason not to, and given that Shavon is the only positive reaction to the name so far, the group follows.

Shavon, remaining concealed below his robes, takes the group from the inn before they can pay for their drinks/food.  The tavern keeper makes no fuss about it though after a nod from Shavon and the two likely have an understanding.  The trek takes half an hour through the winding streets of the city of Qorlander Bay.  The water is soon far behind as Shavon leads the group closer to the wall and the mountains that abut the town to the north.  The way is windy and only an expert cartographer or someone with superb direction sense could remember the way, though Shavon makes no obvious attempts at misdirection.  The city is just large and appears constructed in stages on the whim or need of the moment rather than pre-planned.

At long last the robed stranger invites the group into a large house backed up against the mountain such that it looks like it grows out of the mountain at the base.  The mountain wall is sheer and straight up.

"My home," Shavon says, his first words since leaving the tavern.  "Please, come inside.  I am a friend of Torhavich's and can lead you to him once I know more about you and your purpose in seeing him."

As he climbs the steps to the front door, Shavon waves his hand in front of the ornate handles there and says, "Aksswythian datakthion mothuweiss."  Immediately the doors glow flame red for a brief moment then open wide to admit all who would enter.  From the street looking in, the mansion is well decorated if a bit antiquated in its furnishings and very, very expensive.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:14, Fri 23 Sept 2011.

Kahmaul is impressed by the newcomer, and glad to see that they could avoid incident. He was a bit wary that they might when the Invar moved for his weapon. But upon reaching Shavon's home.

As the man speaks the strange language he decides to speak for the first time since leaving the bar, "What language was that? Its not something I recognize."

Shavon stops and half turns his hooded head.  "It is an arcane language exclusive to Xamador and the Western world.  Come."  He turns back and disappears into the house.

Kahmaul shrugs and glances back at Veritum. He wonders if the Invar has any idea what it might say. He simply follows the stranger in the hopes of gaining some answers.

Dathnaea follows behind Kahmaul, awed by the wealth and beauty of the mansion.

Arvil follows as well, enchanted by the power and grace of their savior.

The house is extremely plush, filled with great riches and unique items that are no doubt of great value and probably magical.  Whoever Shavon is to Torhavich, he is not only high up in the ranks, but a testament to the resources of Torhavich.  The group follows Shavon into a dining area where a cadre of unseen servants pull back chairs and seat everyone.  The servants then bring drinks akin to what was ordered at the tavern.  "You may also order food through them and the chef will cook it according to your specifications.  I will return when I have changed clothing.  I have just returned to Qorlander myself.   Please, make yourselves comfortable.  Just do not traverse any stairs...for your own safety."

With those words, Shavon disappears having never shown his face.

Shavon takes his time changing clothes, but while he is gone, Aethen, Adryn, and Genovia arrive from the main hall.

Kahmaul waves to his companions and motions for them to join him. The furry Anthros has found a rather comfortable ornate chair that seemed to be fashioned from an old tree. He finds it a bit more comforting than the other more plush furniture.

   Aethen moves toward the group, taking in the rich decorations that surround them all.  He politely nods or excuses himself as servants hustle toward different guests in the dining area.

   "Kahmaul,"  Aethen stops and bows slightly, "who may we say is our gracious host?  We were brought here before I could think to ask."  Thinking back, Aethen realizes he showed up before he could think about....anything else.

Adryn thanks the mysterious stranger for leading them to their companions.

He begins to get the 'fish out of water' feeling again as he walks through the lavishly decorated rooms and hallways. The calm that had over-taken him in the wilds was beginning to fade as he took in his surroundings.

Finally, they arrive in a large dining area where the rest of his friends are seated and being doted upon by an array of unseen servants. Seeing Kahmaul sitting at the far end of the room, Adryn makes his way over and takes a seat beside him. Rather than sitting in one of the many chairs in this extravagant room he sits down upon his knees, waving off the servants offering him food.

"He has yet to introduce himself properly, but a hot-headed Invar called him Shavon. He seems to know Thit."

   "Well it seems that this Shavon has a significant amount of resources behind him."  Aethen disliked the opulence of the dwelling alongside his pre-existent distaste of walled habitats.  However, his distaste was always tempered with the knowledge that very few races other than the Anthros had whole-heartedly accepted the wilds as a habitat unto itself, not needing the security of walls and roofs to protect themselves or their.....things.

   "This land seems to carry a very distinct hatred for humans.  It was manifested quite regularly as we walked through the city."  Aethen looks to the others.  "Does anyone know why?"