13 Reapember 353 AC, evening

It was exactly two years after the Godsbringers returned to Solace after their five year separation. The night that started their quest for the blue crystal staff; that five days later led them to free King Eisen Dragonword , slay the black dragon Onyx, and bring about the return of the gods.

Lunitari was nearly full and Solinari would become full in five nights, the anniversary of the king’s liberation and the return of the gods, and they were casting their red and white light across Kalaman and the Vingaard River. Only the black robed wizards saw the waning black half moon of Nuitari that most people on Krynn didn’t even know existed.

King Dragonword had instituted a three day period of rest during the Solinari full moon cycle in commemoration of what had happened two years ago. But what normally would have been a great feast would now likely pass in silence. For as the fall winds swept over the city from Kalaman Bay, it brought with it the scent of the sea over a broken city.

About half of the city had been cleared of debris and about half of that had been rebuilt, starting with the docks district and workshops and other things most needed for the rebuilding of the city, since the sacking of this Pearl of the East. The king had spared no expense in rebuilding the city and nor had its people. The entire nation of Eastlund was focused on this one thing. Coming together in solidarity. Knowing that the king would do it for all of them too. Wherever they were.

On this night His Majesty Eisen III, by the Grace of Paladine, King of Eastlund, Patriarch of Dragonword, Defender of the Covenant, Custodian of The Grove, Keeper of the Lost Tomb, Lord Clerist of the Knights of the Sword had spoken with some of the members of the Gold Guard, his bodyguards.

“Bring them to me now,” the king said in conclusion and the four knights bowed and left.

[OOC: Please post what your characters are doing before they are encountered by these knights. Please PM me if you have questions about how or where your character lives.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:19, Tue 09 Feb 2010.

Olven has just finished his evening repast at a local inn, and as he walks back down the narrow lane that leads to his humble home, he reflects on the events of the past few years.  He had lost dear friends in the War of the Lance, and received several wounds while defending Kalaman, but all that is behind him now.  His house has recently been rebuilt, and is serving as quarters for some of the rebuilding crew.  Olven himself has been busy, lending a hand as he can in the rebuilding effort.  With winter coming on, every free hand is needed.

He had left the inn earlier than the others who are bunking with him, and he thinks back to the cheery fire and the welcome wenches of the inn.  Oh, he can afford their smiles for a night, but what he really wants is a wife to warm his bed.  With the war and subsequent rebuilding, however, he has scarce had time to spend on winning a woman's hand in marriage.  Perhaps now that history is calming down, he can turn his thoughts to more marital pursuits.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:31, Fri 01 Jan 2010.

Atop a crate in a busy marketplace, Nana perches, swaying as she plays an old, clay ocarina.  A meandering, ornate melody whistles from the small instrument, and a dancer jumps and twirls as she plays, stamping out a lively rhythm in time with the music.  She doesn't know the dancer's name--she joined her, wordlessly, about half an hour ago.

Nana and the dancer have attracted a small audience.  A basket lies on the floor in front of them, but it holds only a few coins and a bit of bread.  These are grim times, and folks are not letting their what little coin they have drop easily from their grasps, but rich and poor alike, they cannot deny the power of a good song to lift low spirits.  Some are even dancing a little shyly, just barely moving with the rhythm.  Nana smiles with her eyes when she notices them, trying not to think on her meager earnings, lest her dismay be reflected in her song.

Attracted by the sound of the Ocarina, Olven moves closer to the small crowd surrounding player and dancer.  The music lifts his spirits, and smiling, he drops a silver crown in the small hat.

He lets himself enjoy the others' good cheer for a time before moving on.  The people of Kalaman are survivors, and their efforts to rebuild are a testament to their moral fiber.  As a sellsword, Olven makes his living not so much on violence itself as representing the threat of violence, and if another force hires him to make war on Kalaman, he will do so, though not happily, and he can't help admiring these people's determination.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:42, Wed 06 Jan 2010.

The ocarina-player nods her head slightly in appreciation as the man makes a donation.  She watches the other woman's dance, and her song transitions into a simpler section with a clearer, more identifiable melody--clearly the base melody from which she has been improvising.  The tune has an exotic sound to it--likely unidentifiable, for a native of Solamnia.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:28, Fri 01 Jan 2010.

As Nana continued to play, a knight of Solamnia walked up to her, clearly not to donate any money nor did he seem to care that he was blocking the view.

"His Majesty Eisen III wants to see you now," the knight said.

--

Elsewhere another knight caught up with Olven and put a hand on his shoulder to cause him to stop.

"His Majesty Eisen III wants to see you now," the knight said.

As Nana opens her eyes at the end of a long melodic phrase, she has to fight the urge to recoil in horror.  A knight within arm's reach.  She stops playing quite suddenly.

Oh, no.  This is bad, Nana thinks.  Should I run?  I could run.  I'm unarmed.  If I'm going to run, it should be now.  Could I?  Was it illegal to perform here?  Will I be cleaned off the streets as a beggar?  Oh, no, but if I run, I won't have time to pick up my money.  Oh, damn it.  It's too late to run.

All of her attention is focused on the knight.  She wonders uselessly whether the crowd has already dispersed, and if the dancer has stayed around for a bit of the earnings.

Trying to maintain her composure, she responds in lightly accented Solamnic, "His majesty?  I...  There must be some mistake, sir knight.  Please, I am only a simple musician!"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:41, Wed 06 Jan 2010.

"There is no mistake," the knight said. “My instructions were quite specific. His Majesty calls upon you in this darkest hour of need for our city.”

The dancer stopped and looked at Nana and the knight. She wondered how a musician could help with the rebuilding of the city. From the rumors she had heard and from what she had heard herself, this was the kind of thing said to master craftsmen and other important figures who could have quite an impact on the rebuilding.

The crowd, hearing the same words, walked away. Nothing was more important than the rebuilding of their beloved city.

"Oh, um..."  Nana hesitates, glancing over at the dancer.  She holds a finger up to the knight, signaling him to wait.  She rises to her feet and hops down from the crate.

"For you.  Thank you," Nana says reaching into the basket for a few coins and dropping them into the woman's palm.  Unable to evade her puzzled look, and worried that she might give offense to the knight, she shrugs and mumbles, "Well, maybe even the king needs a good song in these dark days, you know?"  Hopefully she would tell the story.  The songstress summoned to perform before King Eisen III himself.  Not a bad rumor to start.

Still, this was troubling.  Life had been quieter, if not richer, of late, and she had hoped to enjoy tranquility a little longer.

But the heavens pull us this way and that, she thinks, And perhaps peacefulness will not be my way just now.  Nana sighs, picks up her basket with her meager earnings, and gives the armored man a nod, consenting to go with him.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:55, Wed 06 Jan 2010.

"Me?  Now?  Certainly," Olven says, stopping in the street and turning toward the messenger.  "Lead the way, good sir knight."  The king, eh?  Olven briefly wonders what has brought on this summons.  Hopefully, work, and if the king wants him, well-paying work.  Eh, well.  He'll find out soon enough, anyway.  A pity he didn't have his gear with him, but unless the king wants him to slay a dragon in the throne room, Olven should have enough time to retrieve his gear.

The two knights led Olven and Nana to Dragonword Keep. The walls surrounding the keep and its grounds were two miles long and enclosed a quarter of a square mile.

The Dragon High Lord in charge of the Blue Dragon Army had used the keep as his headquarters after the city had been sacked, though his stay wasn't that long. The Blue Lady that replaced him in preferred to have her headquarters at Dargaard Keep with Lord Soth, the Death Knight.

The palace was a magnificent building, but rumors talked of plans for building an even more magnificent building to commemorate what had happened to them.

The gates to the palace yard were open and only two knights of the crown were stationed there, the guests where quickly showed inside. They were directed past many smaller buildings to the main gate of the palace itself. Inside the oppulent home they were led to a waiting area and asked to wait there until His Majesty.

Nana arrived first and Olven some time later.

As Olven is led through the Keep, he casually eyes the stone fortifications and the number of guards on duty presently.  He commits the path to memory as they progress, noting any buildings of consequence along the way.  If the Keep were attacked again and needed to be defended, he would no doubt be called upon.  If the Keep were to fall again . . .he decides not to think any longer upon that.  Best to save Ifs for when they become realities.

When he arrives in the waiting area, he notes the human female already here ahead of him.  Ah, the musician from the marketplace.  Unusual to see someone like her here in Dragonword Keep.  Then again, the King doesn't make a habit of summoning mercenaries into his presence, either.  He nods his head in recognition and smiles briefly, then sits back to wait.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:20, Thu 07 Jan 2010.

When Olven arrives, Nana is seated, her head down, quietly humming a tune to herself as she fingers the ocarina in her hands.  Her hair looks as though she has tried to neaten it, but it doesn't help much.  Her clothes are loose and flowing, made of exotic, patterned fabrics.  But their hues are faded, and her sandals look rather worn.

Hearing the man's footsteps, she looks up and catches his brief smile.  She returns it with an uncertain smile of her own.

"You," She begins, hesitant and puzzled, "What are you doing here?"

Olven shrugs his shoulders.  "I guess the king's going to fill me in."  He leans back against the wall and looks around the room.  "I was heading home when a knight stopped me, told me I was summoned, and here I am."  He gestures around the room.  "Nice quarters, aye?  It's good to be the king, I guess."

He grins.  "We must both be pretty important people to be summoned by the king himself."

"Maybe ... " Nana wrinkles her brow and looks thoughtful for a moment.  It was dangerous business, being important.  She slips her ocarina into her pocket.

"Who are you?"

"Me?  Olven Wolf, mercenary, at your service."  Grinning, Olven nods his head in greeting once more.  "I fought during the war to help free Kalaman, and after the fighting was over, I stuck around to help rebuild.  Now, the city's kind of my second home."

He looks at her ocarina, then says, "Must be a hard life, having to make it just on your music alone.  Most folks in the city are trying to put their lives back together, don't have much extra to give.  It's good for them to hear music, though.  Brings a little joy to their lives."  Aye, it's a hard life to live on the kindness of others, he thinks to himself.  I hope you have a place to lay your head, little bird.

Standing back up, he remains ready to follow once the King is ready to see the both of them.

A mercenary, of course, but what else could she have expected?  She might have hoped, but she did not think for a moment that it was her songs upon which the throne came calling.  I suppose this means we have something in common, Nana reflects.

"It is not so terrible.  Kalaman is always generous," Nana replies in her accented Solamnic, "And besides, how can a city be built without music?  A city without music is a city without a heart.  I think Kalaman's people know this."

She rises to her feet with a quick jump, restlessly.  "I am called Nana."

"Nana, it's good to meet you," Olven says, his eyes twinkling.  He rubs his chin as he considers her words.  "I suppose I never thought about the importance of music to a city's well-being, but you're right."  He smiles once more.  "Though more than music is needed to keep a city at peace.  Blades and shields are needed as well."

However, a city with nothing but weapons and armor is merely a fortification, he thinks.  People are what make a city what it is.  Art, music, and learning all play a role, but if they are a city's heart, then its people are the city's lifeblood.  He rubs his chin and allows himself a small smile.  Ah, philosophy.

"Well," Nana hesitates, "Yes.  I think that will be why we are here.  Not for music."  She shakes her head.  "It is good to meet you also, Olven."

Folding his arms, Olven says, "I take it then that you are not a full-time street musician.  You are a warrior?" Half question, half statement, Olven realizes that his initial assessment of the woman was flawed.

He looks at the woman more carefully.  She is as tall as he is, and she carries herself confidently, with an easy grace.  She is perhaps as capable as he is himself, if not more so.  "I trust that we will be able to serve the king well, then."

"Oh, I am a musician all the time," Nana laughs a little sadly, but she seems calmer now, anyway, "Every day, I play somewhere in this city for the people.  Only, I think probably not anymore.  Not just now."

She pauses and thinks for a moment, "You know, though, now, maybe it turns out the king only wants you to fight, and from me, he only wants a song.  Then, I would sound very silly for saying these things so soon."  She smiles genuinely, if a little sardonically.

Olven shrugs.  "It may be as you say.  We'll find out when he's ready for us, at any rate."  He takes a seat and crosses his arms, waiting for the king's summons.  "You must see a lot of the city, then.  Everyone always remembers the names of the conquerors, but no one chronicles the rebuilders.  Perhaps, if you write music as well, you could tell their story someday."

"That may be so.  I will think about it."

She looks away for a moment, then returns her eyes to him and asks, "Do you seek fame?"

Watching Olven move restlessly as they converse, Nana thinks that he seems impatient.  Well... It has been a long wait.

Handar is sitting in a tavern, supping on a glass of mead.  This tavern, a place called the hair and hounds, gets a little rough sometimes, but it has been a good few days since the last brawl.  Though it's hard to tell while he's sitting down, he's a little under six feet tall.  He has short, dark brown hair, blue eyes and a neatly trimmed beard.

A knight of solamnia entered the tavern in full armor, a sight not often seen in this tavern, so voices quieted down and the tavernkeeper walked up to the knight, who was turning his head as if surveying the room.

"What can I help you with," the tavernkeeper asked.

"I am here for someone," the knight replied and continued to scan the room a little while further. When he saw Handar, he walked in his direction and stopped when he reached the table at which he sat drinking.

"His Majesty Eisen III wants to see you now," the knight said.

"His Majesty wants to see me?" Handar asks, his eyebrow raised slightly, then shrugs and finishes his mead.  He rises to his feet and continues, "Well, I suppose if he wants to see me badly enough that he's sent an armoured knight, I suppose I shouldn't disappoint him."

"A wise choice," the knight said and smiled. The two left the tavern and the knight led Handar through the city to Dragonword Keep. Once inside, Handar was led to a waiting area where two others already waited.

[OOC: You can look at post 12 for a very quick description of the palace]

Handar does much the same as Olven did, though for an entirely different reason; successfully robbing a king would definitely be a tale for the grand kids.  That, and should he ever need to escape, knowing the route would be very useful.

Once he is led into the room, he gives the other two a nod by way of greeting.  He smells faintly of alcohol.  "I don't suppose either of you two knows what this is about, do you?"

Olven shakes his head.  "I haven't the foggiest idea," he says, smiling.  "I'm Olven, and this is Nana.  We've been waiting for a few minutes, but if the King wants to keep me waiting, I don't mind."  Olven settles back in his seat, but his eyes never rest in one place for very long.  "You smell like you were enjoying yourself, wherever you were summoned from."

Nana nods to Handar, allowing Olven's introduction of her to suffice.  She appears restless, looking around the room idly and tapping out a complex rhythm on her hips.

Handar shrugs.  "Aye, I was relaxing with a nice glass of mead in one of the taverns; not much else to do, with half the kingdom homeless these days...  I'm Handar; a merchant of sorts."

Nana's fingers stop tapping.  "Business is good, then?" She inquires.

Nodding his head in greeting, Olven waits for Handar's answer, then says, "We're an eclectic mix, aren't we?  A merchant, a musician, and a merc - sounds like a joke, eh?"  He grins again, placing his hands on his legs and leaning forward.  "Maybe after we finish with our royal audience, the three of us can go partake of the cups you were enjoying, Handar."

"Not as good as it used to be, I'm afraid," Handar replies drily.  "War might be good for business, depending on what you're selling, but the aftermath usually isn't.  I suppose I could start transporting wood and stone into the city, but I'd never be able to carry enough for it to be worth while."

Leaning back, Olven folds his arms.  "There's still a lot to do in the city," he says.  "But you're not likely to make much of a profit on building materials.  However, I bet the rich would pay premium gold for hard-to-find luxuries." Not that that would be entirely aboveboard, Olven muses, but now that the rebuilding's in full swing, there's likely coin enough for life's little comforts.

After a while a servant entered the room where the heroes were waiting.

“His Majesty will see you now," the servant said.

"Maybe, but perhaps that is best left unsaid in the royal palace," Handar points drily.

When the servant walks in, Handar nods, rising from the seat he'd taken whilst talking with the other two.  "Well, let's not keep him waiting; sooner this is over with, sooner I can get back to my mead."

Nana, looking rather nervous, allows herself to be guided to the throne room.

Walking a respectful distance behind the servant, Olven follows the others.  His heartbeat speeds up, and his palms feel moist.  He's never met royalty before, and this could be his one shot at glory.  Don't screw this up, Olven, he thinks to himself as he enters the royal presence.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:39, Wed 13 Jan 2010.

As the heroes followed the servant from the waiting room, they walked past paintings of dead royal ancestors and others, tapestries, empty sets of decorative armor, and other such palatial decorations.

But the heroes were not led into the throne room. Instead they were led into a library. Two knights were stationed outside the door and when the knights opened the door, the servant left and another knight led them into the library. The walls were covered by bookshelves filled with books from floor to ceiling, as was much of the space between the walls, and the knight led them through the labyrinthine passages, as the scent of books filled their nostrils, until they came to an opening.

Four knights were stationed around the seated royal couple, as His Majesty wasn’t alone. The Queen, who was the most beautiful woman in all of Solamnia, was with him.

“Your Majesty,” the knight said, addressing the king, and bowed. “Your Majesty’s guests are here.” He then stepped aside so that the heroes stood before the royals.

Uncertain of the best way to behave before a foreign king and already rather embarrassed by her shabby appearance, Nana decides that the best thing to do is probably to kneel and look down.

Once he's in front of the king, Handar bows.  It's an awkward bow, from someone who clearly isn't used to royalty, and a short one.

As he walks through the library, Olven focuses on following the servant as they wind their way through the stacks of books.  Doesn't much look like a throne room, he thinks, glancing at a couple of titles as they pass by.  Finally, they stopped short in the king and queen's presence.

"Your Majesties," Olven says, copying Nana and dropping to one knee.

"Please stand," the king said and when Nana and Olven had returned to their feet he continued.

"As we're sure you are aware, all available funds are being used to rebuild this glorious city of ours. But we need more. And we would like you to help us find it. With your skills, you can go where most people wouldn't dare, you can explore the unexplored in search of unclaimed treasure in service of your city and your king. In other words, we have a job for you."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:53, Fri 15 Jan 2010.

"And what can we do for you, your Majesty?" Handar asks drily.  "Also, if I might ask, how exactly do you know what our skills are?"

"Find the money I need," the king said. "Find the money the city needs. And regarding what I know. Paladine provides." As he mentioned the last, the king patted his own chest a couple of times as if alluding that there was a medallion of faith underneath his clothes, making him a cleric of Paladine as well as a king.”

Handar raises an eyebrow slightly.  "I see there is more to your Majesty than meets the eye," he says blandly.  "I suppose the most obvious question is, what do we get in return, beyond the thanks of the kingdom?  Thanks are all very nice, but I do need to eat."

"From what you find, or otherwise convince donators to give, you get what you think is a fair salary as well as what you need to do your job well. Of course we hope that our portion, or the city's portion, will be as large as possible."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:55, Fri 15 Jan 2010.

Nana is thoroughly shocked to hear Handar address the king so casually, but, finding her own tongue caught in her throat, she decides to let the man do the talking for the moment.  As Handar and the king converse, she accidentally catches the queen's eye and blushes fiercely, looking away.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:31, Fri 15 Jan 2010.

Olven stands to his feet, though he still remains in an attitude of respect.  "I'm honored that you have summoned us, your Majesty," he says, inclining his head.  "It is my hope to do everything I can to help Kalaman restored to its former splendor.  You have but to name it, sire, and I am yours to command."  This is different than his normal line of work, but Olven is a little awed at being in the king's presence.

Nana can't help but feel a little silly.  Has she ever been so tongue-tied before?  She's always thought of herself as a bit chatty, but here she stands, so quiet as to nearly be sullen.  Glad to have Olven speaking up, she chimes in, "Your Majesty, this city is not my home, but it has welcomed me and been very good to me, and so it honors me very much to serve it."

She wonders just how much the king knows about her, that she has been summoned to perform this task.  Deciding not to think about it, she instead turns her attention toward hoping that they will be well-supplied and well-informed if they are expected to encounter danger in their travels.

"Well, I suppose I've not much else to do," Handar says drily.  "How much money are you going to need in the first batch, and how soon?  Obviously this is going to be a long term job, so it's best to know if we're going to be carrying back steel or platinum."

One of the knights scowled at Handar for his lack of respect, but the king continued as if he hadn’t noticed.

“Rebuilding the city has continual expenses,” the king said. “So the sooner we can get what we can get, the better. But if you can take more home and there is more to get in the area you are in, it is better to get it now and make the trip as few times as possible.”

“And though we would prefer platinum, we will take steel or anything you can find. Or any willing donations.”

Nana speaks hesitantly, "Please, excuse me, but... where does your majesty, Sweeper of The Lost Tomb, wish we go?"

Olven joins in.  "Yes, sire.  My shield is yours to command, but if you have an idea of where we should look first, we shall be better equipped to start this mission."  But perhaps the king expects them to sniff out coin to replenish the city's treasury.  If that were the case, then perhaps this is one reason Handar has been chosen.  The man looks as if he has a nose for gold, an excellent ability to have when searching out treasure.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:29, Fri 15 Jan 2010.

Sir Brian Donner, the knight who moments before had scowled at Handar, whipped his head sideways to scowl even more fiercely at Nana.

But again the king ignored the breech of protocol as he spoke.

“We actually did that once,” the king said. “Not with a broom, but with the sword. When we rediscovered the Lost Tomb, with Paladine’s help, it was infested by all sorts of vile creatures. And alone we drove them out, our arm strengthened by the power of Paladine.”

The king and queen exchanged a look as if there was some significance that had not been mentioned. He offered her his left hand and she took it, their fingers entwined.

“But there is no wealth there,” he continued. “We brought back the weapons and the armor stored there since before the Cataclysm about three years ago after the longest quest we have ever been on.”

Again the king looked at his queen lovingly and gently squeezed her hand.

“But then all sins must be paid for. The only place I know of that might still hold wealth is the Lyceum. We were there during the war to find money to retake the city, but there were places we couldn’t enter and they might hold secrets and wealth that could help the us now.”

Handar nods.  "Is there any equipment you have spare that we may take with us on our journey, your Majesty?  I only ask because while I may be able to find some of it myself, it would take time that would be better spent on the task at hand."

"Unfortunately not," the king said. "Our assets are stretched thin as it is. You have to provide for what you need yourself and this is one of the reasons why your contract is so generous.”

“What we do have is a map of the area on which the location of the Lyceum has been indicated. Once you cross the Vingaard its about 50 miles east along the coast, near the town of Turog.”

“In one room with three doors, there were three pedestals each with a gem of some value. But as we tried to take them, they moved to another pedestal and eluded our efforts. The wizard that was with us said that we likely wouldn’t be allowed to take these gems with us, but it is worth a try. And we were never able to open those three doors either.”

“We also discovered some strange hallways that were both straight and curved at the same time. We cannot explain it and neither could the wizard. There may be many places among these hallways that we did not discover.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:54, Fri 15 Jan 2010.

Handar nods.  "I see.  Is there anything else we should be aware of?" he asks, unable to think of any other questions but knowing he'll think of a question later, once it is too late to ask...

"Nothing I can think of at the time," the king said. "Except this. Who wants the map?" One of the knights handed the king a whitewood scroll case, which the king held, pointing towards them.

"I'll look after the map for now," Handar volunteers.

"Then come," the king said. "Take."

Handar steps forward to collect the map, then rejoins the others, sliding the tube into an inside pocket.

As Handar placed his hand on the tube, the king released his queen's hand, placed it on Handar's shoulder, and whispered something in his ear. And then he let go of the tube.

Gems that vanished from pedestal to pedestal?  Hallways that were curvy and then straight?  The descriptions of this place make Olven's head swim.  It sounds like they need magical assistance on this quest.

"Sire, are you sending anyone else with us?" he asks cautiously.  "I'm your man if you want me to go toe to toe with your enemies, but I'm not much for straightening hallways and lassoing vanishing gems."

Nana looks rather awkward as the king and queen cuddle in response to her question, and looks rather relieved when they let go of each other's hands.  Overwhelmed by the goings-on, she tries not to fidget.  She feels eager to leave, though she hopes it doesn't show on her face.

"Yes," His Majesty said. "Unfortunately they are not in the city at the moment. But it was still time for us to set things in motion. And while I think about it, the handles in the Lyceum are shaped like a fist and when you try to open the door, it will grab your hand and not let go until the door is open."

"Is there anything else you would like to know?"

Olven nods, filing the information away for later use.  "Of course, your Majesty," he says, inclining his head.  Thinking for a moment, he asks, "The others on your initial quest.  Might they still be here in the city?  Could we ask them what they had learned about this Lyceum?"  We'll need horses, Olven thinks.  And maybe a pack animal to haul away whatever treasure we find.  By the gods, but this might get expensive, and no money up front.

Outwardly, however, he smiles, attendant on the king's answer.

"There was only one other," the king said. "One of the Godsbringers, the white robe Nathan Evardson. He is now Master of the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthus. He probably knows more about it than I do, as it used to be a place of wizards before the Cataclysm. But Palanthus is far away."

"Very well, your Majesty," Olven says, hoping his disappointment doesn't show.  Palanthus was much too far for the wizard to be of much use now.  "Sire, if we have other questions, could we attend upon you at a later date?  I think we have enough to go on now, and I need to make preparations for the journey.  When shall we expect the other member or members of our company?"

Two or three days travel by foot there and back, plus provisions for as long as they stayed in the Lyceum.  Of course, they could always resupply at a town along the way.  "Your majesty, one further question.  What towns, if any, lie between here and the Lyceum?"

"There's nothing but Turog really," the king said. "Though there might be a farm or two on the way."

"We expect to hear from you again," he continued. "Reports, deliveries, and what not. And you may continue to ask questions. But you must realize that as king of this vast nation, in the middle of rebuilding our capital, we will be very busy."

"As soon as we have talked to them we will send them your way. But as they are not in the city at this time, we do not know when that will be."

"Of course, your Majesty."  Olven bows his head and steps back slightly, looking to Nana and Handar to see if the other two have any questions.  With any luck, Turog would make a good base for exploring the Lyceum, and provisions and such would not become an issue.

He waits for the others to ask any final questions, holding his own thoughts until the three of them leave the king's presence.

"Your majesty, what else can you tell us about the Lyceum?  What was it used for in years past, and who occupied it?  In your time there, what traps and dangers did you encounter?  Where there monsters there?  If so, what kinds?  Do you remember any secret passageways or hidden doors and rooms?"

Olven is surprised at the number of questions that come out of his mouth.  He looks to the others to see what else they might ask.

Nana, who has all the funds of a street musician at her disposal, mostly wants to ask the king how he possibly expects them to outfit themselves for a long and perilous journey, but she does not want to be rude to his highness.

Nana furrows her brow, stamps her foot, and screams, "OH MY GOD.  I AM SO... BORED!"  Flames erupt from her body, engulfing everyone near her--the king, the queen, Olven, Handar, and any nearby attendants--in a horrific, fiery explosion.

OOC: 5d burning attack on everything within a 2-yard radius.  If anyone is not close enough, step so that they are.

“We don’t remember much of the place,” the king said. “We were there only once and that was two years ago. And since then we’ve had many more important things to think about as we liberated Kalaman, defeated the dragonarmies, and are in progress of rebuilding this wonderful city.” His Majesty sat quiet for a while, trying to remember the Lyceum.

”From what I understand it was some sort of wizard school before the Cataclysm. We only met one ghost there and a number of spectral creatures. The first of these we encountered guarded three doors, we took the leftmost one, don’t repeat our mistake.”

“The door to the bottom floor was hidden by a large statue and we found a corridor in the strange hallways that were shielded by lightning. Both of us were certain that there was a way to get past the lightning, but we couldn’t find it.”

“We found no traps. The only secret passage we found was the stairs and the only ones we fought was a few water elementals. But we don’t know what we might have missed or what might have happened since we were there.”

After the king had answered Olven's questions, Nana stepped forward and unleashed a surprising ball of fire that engulfed all of them. The king, his queen, the guards, and the heroes, with Nana in the middle. When the fire had disipated only Nana and the queen were unharmed by the fire (everyone else takes 25hp).

Turn 1
Olven [Makes his HT roll ]
The King [Makes his HT roll]
Handar [Makes his HT roll]
knights [3 make their HT rolls, 1 is now unconscious]
queen
Nana

[OOC: Everyone is two yards from Nana and while the king and queen are sitting down, everyone else is standing. Though this is the order everyone acts, feel free to post now even if the faster characters haven't acted yet. Everyone injured without high pain threshold has a -4 Shock penalty to DX, IQ and their skills.]

[Fortunately both Olven and Handar have combat reflexes or they would have been stunned as per the total surprise rules.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:08, Fri 29 Jan 2010.

Handar swears rather loudly.  He quickly draws a dagger and aims a thrust at nana's throat.

OOC: I have a high pain threshold; no shock penalty.

00:13, Today: Handar rolled 13 using 3d6. Targeted Throat Attack (10).
00:11, Today: Handar rolled 11 using 3d6. Fast Draw (16).

So he pulled his knife out quickly, but missed the strike.

"Aaaarrrgh!"  Olven drops to the floor and starts rolling around, trying to put out the flames.  His skin is crispy and bright red, and though he normally feels little pain, he can sense his cells screaming.

"Witch!" he bellows.  "What was that for?"  Nana had seemed so sensible, not at all the sort to try to kill the king.  Either the woman is mentally unhinged, or she's an assassin, and Olven's not about to take any chances.

While Olven was rolling on the floor, the king, without standing up, drew his bastard sword and with two quick thrusts at Nana's eyes brought her to the ground.

While one of the knights checked on their fallen companion, the queen closed her left hand into a fist and the fire vanished, though neither Olven nor Handar had heard anything about the queen having magical abilities. But they knew that the general reaction to such claims would be 'preposterous' or even 'defamatory'.

The other knights attended the king and his guests and healed them from all damage. And though their clothes were singed, they were still somewhat functional.

“We’re sorry about this,” the king said. “We will of course compensate you for your clothes.”

[OOC: Rolled for Area Knowledge to see if they knew about her magical abilities.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:26, Sat 30 Jan 2010.

Handar slides his dagger back into its sheath.  "Thank you.  No apology is necessary though; you couldn't have known what she'd do any more than we did."

"Never the less," the king said. "This is our domain. And the apprentices should get to use their craft. It is fortunate that we have so many healers in the palace. And considering what might happen, though what little comfort it may bring, you may call upon the crown for free healing in regards to any injury suffered while pursuing your mission.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:55, Mon 01 Feb 2010.

"Your majesty is very kind," Olven says, picking himself up off of the floor and futilely brushing his clothes.

"My apologies, sire.  I would never have let her get so close to you if I had not known what she was capable of."  Olven looks down at Nana's corpse with a twinge of sadness.  "Shall I help carry her body out, your majesty?"

"This is better left in the hands of Her Majesty the Queen," the king said and rose from his chair. He then turned to two of the guards. "Stay with her," he ordered and they bowed.

"Come," he told Olven and Handar as he wiped the blood from his sword and sheathed it, and moved towards the door out of the library.

"Your majesty," Olven says, bowing before the queen as he departs.  Turning, he follows quickly after the king, trailing along just behind him.  Other than his knife in its sheath, Olven has no weapons on him, and he feels naked, especially after the attempted assassination attempt.  However, the king has demonstrated that he can handle himself well in a fight, and Olven doubts that they'll face any more flaming assailants with the castle's walls.

The king held up his hand and stopped one of the knights from opening the door and his majesty turned towards the two heroes, still in the library.

"We hope that you will keep her majesty's secret. Revealing this minor talent, wouldn’t do her majesty or you any good."

"Of course; I don't see that it's anyone else's concern," Handar replies with a nod.

[Assuming that Olven makes a similar statement.]

"Good," the king said and nodded to one of the knights who opened the door. As they left the palace, two additional knights joined them as the king led Handar and Olven into a small orchard.

"Is there anything else we can do for you before you depart?"

Olven looks around at the orchard, then twists around to see the entrance that they had just left.  Hm.  How many ways were there into the castle?  Defending it would require guards at every exit possible.

Turning back to the king, Olven says, "No, sire, I can think of nothing else.  I shall keep your secret safe, and by the gods' grace, we shall complete this mission you have given us."

"We will send two of the guards with you to show you to one of the sorcery apprentices. His father is a tailor and he is learning to use sorcery in the craft. He will mend your clothes for you."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:53, Fri 05 Feb 2010.

Though the wall around the keep and the keep itself remained intact, the city no longer had a functional wall. Another effect of the overzealous Dragon Highlord who had led the attack on Kalamn during the war.

And since the return of the Good Dragons, several of them patrolled the Kalaman skies at all times as Knights of Solamnia patrolled where the wall should have been and inside the city too. Even though the Sheriff and his militia were the city’s law keepers and the ones stationed at what should have been the city's gates. But tonight a knight was stationed at each gate too.

[OOC: We might as well have Tarhall catch up with you before you leave the king. Tarhall, feel free to post your arrival at the city gates.]

Weary from the expedition, Tarhall was glad to see the city again, even as it was in its dilapidated state. Having been generally back the past month, his duties had mandated a few short trips around the area to check on various things and acquaint himself with the state of the area. He had been glad to find the house of his old master still standing, but sad to find it abandoned and looted, another calamity brought on by the war. He hoped that none of Argalens more special artifacts had fallen into unworthy hands.

But at least the house provided a shelter for an essentially homeless man.

Coming up to the gate of the city, Tarhall hails the guard, preparing to enter the city proper ...

The gates were normally guarded by the militia, it had been guarded by the militia when Tarhall had left. But now there was one of the knights of Solamnia standing there too.

They militia stopped all travelers that entered the city, making sure that the enemy didn't try to infiltrate the city. And one could not enter the city without papers. Papers that either stated you were a citizen or were invited by a citizen to enter.

After dark, the militia men on duty usually didn't know travelers by sight and would have to call for another to identify them, as indicated by their papers. Being one of the very few wizards in town usually meant that they did know Tarhall by sight and only checked to make sure he had his papers in order.

But the knight waived all that procedure away. "His Majesty Eisen III wants to see you now," the knight said.

Tarhall looks at the knight a bit startled. "The King?", he says with some puzzlement.

The obvious question of course was what this was about, but this messenger could not be expected to answer that. Tarhall was of course a representative of the Wizards here in Kalaman, but that had hardly been advertized yet. Still, with few Wizards around, his robes and staff was bound to be noticed, and perhaps the government would now like to keep some tab on him, as he would use his eyes and ears to watch over these lands.

But a summons directly to the King? What did that mean?

Ultimately it was futile to make a guess from the level of information available. Tarhall was keenly aware from experience that you need to come into contact with your subject to gain knowledge and not just live in a world of hypothesis and inference. Hypothesis was fine as a tool to gain a starting point for inquiry, but had it's limitations thus - it wasn't, and never would be, actual knowledge.

"Lead on then, good knight! If he desires my humble prescence we must not keep his Majesty waiting!", Tarhall says, trying to sound cheerful in the face of some tiredness.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:52, Mon 08 Feb 2010.

The knight led the wizard to the keep, dragons flying overhead, blotting out many of the stars. The knight inquired the whereabouts of His Majesty and led Tarhall there and bowed for the king.

Tarhall saw the king, four knights, and two others. Most of them, including the king, wore singed clothes, but none of the trees or the nearby structures or the ground seemed to have any trace of a fire.

Tarhall takes in the scene with some alarm as he arrives. He keeps composure though, and takes a knee before the king.

"You Majesty, I am Tarhall of Weyranth, here at your request. How may I be of service to the King?". He remains kneeling, head bowed, until the King speaks.

"Please stand," the king said and when Tarhall had returned to his feet he continued.

“We have a job for you,” His Majesty said. “Though all available funds are being used to rebuild this glorious city of ours, still more is needed. And with your skills we think that you can help us in doing so.”

Rising to his feet, Tarhall again looks around at the people assembled and silently wonders at their state.

Turning back to the King, Tarhall again bows slightly in deference as he answers: "If it is your wish that I contribute to letting Kalaman rise out of the ashes, then that is my commmand, Lord King. In what capacity may I serve? What is the task at hand?"

"As you and the others we have asked to join us here," at this the king indicated Handar and Olven with a gesture, "have the capacity to fight the unbeatable foe and to run where the brave dare not go, to explore the unexplored, and return victorious. It is my suggestion that you seek out such places where unclaimed treasure can be found and talk to those that could be convinced to give money to the city."

"As we have already mentioned to Olven Wolf and Handar here, we have suggested one such place to start. A place you might know of as it used to belong to the wizards of high sorcery. It is called the Lyceum."

The Lyceum!?. The thought flashes through Tarhalls mind. He remembers the name from his conversations with Argalen, but vaguely.

Well, this is surely something that commands interest in more than one way, his thoughts go on. An opportunity, perhaps, to further the interests of both city and Wizards. Serendipetous indeed.

"My Lord King, I shall be most honoured parttaking in this endeavour!", Tarhall proclaims: "I thank you humbly and hope that I shall be able to live up to the expectations you profess. Is there anyhting else I should know of at this point, or can these fine fellowes ...", he indicates Olven and Handar, "... enlighten me at to the further deatils of this task? I have no wish to presume upon your time, should it be precious ... ?", he finishes.

OOC: Italics-Purple indicates thoughts, if anyone should be in doubt.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:49, Mon 08 Feb 2010.

"They have asked questions," the king said. "And we have answered. We do not think we have more answers to give about this place."

"I shall then make myself available to these worthies, and they, pray, to me, at your convenience my King.", Tarhall says and inclines first towards the King, then towards Olven and Handar. He then pauses, expecting the retirement of the King and his guards.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:24, Mon 08 Feb 2010.

Olven nods his head in a friendly way at the newest addition.  "Olven Wolf, at your service," he says quietly.  "We've had a bit of a blow-up here, an assassination attempt, looks like.  I'll fill you in later."

Ah, this one would be the wizard, then.  Always good to have someone of a magical bent along with the group.  Olven hasn't been around mages very much, but he's seen them in action on occasion, and he's glad they're bringing one along this time.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, mr. Wolf.", Tarhall says with a smile at Olvens greeting. "Yes, I must admit to a bit of puzzlement at the state of people here ...", then a though seems to dawn on him at Olvens words, "... but are you saying that there has been an attempt on the life of his Majesty?". Tarhalls face now shows definate alarm and concern as he looks to the King again, then back to Olven.

"We are fine," the king said. "And as your new friend mentioned, he can fill in all the details. But we shouldn't keep you here any longer."

His Majesty ordered the two knights with untarnished clothes to accompany the heroes to the tailor so that they could have their clothes mended.

"We look forward to your return. And hope that your trip and all future trips will be very fruitful."

"Thank you, your Majesty!", Tarhall bows deep as the King departs, then prepares to follow the clothes-needing companions to where they are going.

The two knights walked with the heroes out of the Dragonword Keep and into the city down Crown Avenue. The only other building standing in Dragon Ward was the Temple of Paladine. The rest was empty. It was supposed to become the most upscale part of the city, but rebuilding for the nobility was a low priority and Dragon Ward would be the last of the city wards to be completed.

But that temple was to the west. And though the first restored building on this road was the Temple of Habbakuk, it was located in the Phoenix Ward and had been restored because of Habbakuk’s connection to farmers and the city’s continual need of food. It was a magnificent building of blue marble, blue crystal, and wood that spoke of elven, dwarven, and Solamnic craftsmanship. A building that likely could have paid for the restoration of many other buildings. But only four temples had been restored and the rest were an even lower priority than the affluent Dragon Ward for precisely that reason.

As the group continued south, they entered the Forge Ward, the first ward they'd entered that had been completely rebuilt. The Temple of Reorx, the third rebuilt temple, was a prominent feature of this ward.

The knights turned off Crown Avenue and soon knocked on one of the doors and an older female opened the door.

“We have need of your son,” one of the knights said. And the mother hurriedly called for one of her sons.

“What can I do to help sir knight,” the teenaged boy asked.

“His Majesty Eisen III requests that you mend these clothes,” the knight said and pointed at Handar and Olven.

“Of course sir knight,” the boy said and a few seconds later their clothes where whole and clean. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything about the smell. You have to wash them for that.”

Both knights put their hands on the teen’s shoulders and cast spells of their own.

[OOC: If you want to talk to the knights on the way or speak to the boy or whatever, please feel free to do so.]

[OOC: I figured it might be a good idea to include some info on distances. The walk from the keep to this door was longer than a mile. And it's more than 1.5 miles left to where Handar and Olven were picked up.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:30, Wed 10 Feb 2010.

As they travel through the rebuilt districts, Olven can't help but think this money could have been spent better on walls and fortifications.  If another army should come through . . .but then, symbols were powerful, especially to a people rebuilding after the devastation that had so lately been visited upon the city.

"Very nice, lad," Olven says, fingering his garments that had so lately been burnt pieces of fabric.  "You have my thanks.  I trust that we did not put you out unnecessarily."

"Of course not," the boy answered. "His Majesty provides my training for free and we help as much as we can in rebuilding the city.” Where the king used the royal we when he spoke, the boy was talking about everyone in the city. “It is our honor to serve! Besides, I'm the only one good enough to cast that spell!" At the last, they boy beamed with joy and pride so much so that the corners of his mouth nearly reached all the way to his ears.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:22, Tue 09 Feb 2010.

Tarhall followed the journey through the city with interest, taking in the restored wards. He does wonder a bit as they turn into side streets but then comes a house a tailors emblem, and he hears the call for a son of the house.

It was not that he had not seen it before, especially in the last month or so, but it still takes him aback. Only a short time ago, what he just witnessed would have been almost an impossibility without a person in white-, red- or black-coloured robes at least standing by the boys side.

Eyes widen a bit further as the boy answers Olven. Tarhall finds he cannot contain himself, even if that might be prudent.

Leaning on his staff he speaks to the boy: "Son ... who is your Master?"

OOC: Edited for the tailor thing.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:10, Wed 10 Feb 2010.

“I am my father’s apprentice,” the boy said. “And I learn sorcery from Vahn Ballard, the Godsbringer. I am one of his most talented students. The only tailor who can mend clothes with a spell in the entire city.”

[OOC: I’m sorry I wasn’t clear on that, but this is a tailor’s home/shop, so there would be a tailor’s emblem of some sort outside.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:33, Tue 09 Feb 2010.

Tarhall notes the name of the renegade responsible here ... but also that this is occuring with the sanction of the King, in his name and with his coin.

Well, I can certainly see the appeal of this for the boy. But the ramifictions?

He realizes that this is somehting he will have to look into at one point, but not through means of force of coersion - at least not yet. Tarhall is realist enough to know that there has been a change in the world, that non-order Sorcery is somehow easier and more prolific than earlier, and that the Orders will ahve to come to some form of terms and attitude with it. With what he has already seen in this city, it has nothing to do with the situations that could evolve in earlier times, where Apprentice abandoned Master, or Wizard the Order - this new magic manifests much more readily and spontaneously. Dialogue was needed with its practitioners, and at least, the one here was one with a history in the Orders ... wich might of course be both good and bad. Time would tell.

"Thank you, son.", he simply answers the boy after the pause of his thoughts wandering.

"If we are done here," the knight continued. "We wish you good luck."

He then turned to the boy, patted his shoulder appreciatively. "Run along now boy,” he said before turning to his mother. “Thank you for your time,” he said with a shallow bow and as the door closed, the two knights walked away.

Handar frowns.  "Well, now that that is done with, I suppose we ought to get to planning.  Before I was dragged out to see the king, I was at a moderately well stocked tavern; that would probably be as good a place as any, unless someone here has an actual home we can plan in?"

"You're certainly welcome to come home with me," Olven says, shrugging his shoulders.  "A few workmen are bunking with me, so we won't have a lot of privacy.  A tavern works, too, and we're probably less likely to be overheard."  He grins.  "Of course, I have a couple of bottles of port at home, if you're interested."

"Either solution will be fine with me, gents.", Tarhall says with a smile. "Lead the way, and I shall follow!".

Inside he was still a bit affected by the experience with the tailors apprentice, but there was other tasks at hand, and a need to debate the way ahead. He was already thinking ahead to the wonders of the Lyceum and to the opportunity to explore what the masters of old had produced there ...

The three heroes left the tailor.

[OOC: I'm still not sure of exactly where you decided to go, but we can figure that out in the OOC thread if you like.]

"Well, let's go back to my place, then," Olven says, hiking off in the direction of Vingaard Ward.  "It's not much, but it's home," he says by way of apology as they head in that general direction.  "After the war, I decided to stay and help rebuild, and I've put down roots here."

"I'll be honoured to visit your home, Olven Wolf. Lead us there and let us then see what our minds can come up with for a plan for the journey ahead.", Tarhall say with a smile.

"Very well; let's head to your home," Handar agrees with a shrug.

Having walked another mile or so towards Olven’s home, the three men saw two shapes some distance away across the street. The larger form was certainly eight feet tall with gray-black fur. It dropped the savaged smaller form and it fell to the street, turned around with bared, blood dripping fangs, looked at them, moonlight glittering it its yellow eyes, and howled beyond the canine.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:55, Wed 17 Feb 2010.

Handar frowns slightly, and begins to step towards the larger form.  One of his hands moves towards a dagger, for the sake of prudence, but he doesn't appear aggressive.

"What in the nine hells is that thing?" Olven mutters, then draws his own knife and moves forward as well.  He regrets leaving his kit at home.  When the summons came from the king, he dropped everything and immediately followed the king's knight.  Now, he'd feel a lot more comfortable with his spear in his hands.

"Don't, Olven; I don't think he means us any harm..." Handar says calmly.

"You're kidding me, right?  Am I the only one that sees a giant monster with blood-dripping fangs that looks like he's hurting someone?  We have to go help him!"  Olven draws closer, keeping his eyes on whatever that thing is.

"Don't jump to conclusions; for all we know, the person you're talking about could have been the aggressor," Handar points out.  "I've learned to follow my hunches, and right now, they're telling me we're not in danger - at least, no more than any night walking through town, so how about we get the facts before making any irreversible decisions?"

Tarhall sees the scene with concern. He tries to make out if there is anything about it they're missing ...

OOC: Use Observation.

"If we wait too long, someone may be dead," Olven says.  "I don't have my arms or leathers, and I'm exposed without them, but I have to do something."  He moves closer still, his knife ready, his eyes on whatever that thing is.

As the heroes continued onward, the creature growled at them and ran away.

Seeing that the creature is fleeing, Olven breaks into a run to get to the spot where the second figure fell.  He still has his knife out, and he keeps his eye on the fleeing beast for as long as it is visible.

Tarhall follows Olven to the fallen man, and kneels beside him, trying to get a sense of his condition. He will work to save his life, if life still lingers.

OOC: First Aid seems most approriate here.

As they came closer to the body, they noted that it rested in a pool of its own blood, that its throat had been ripped away, though the head was still attached to the body, and that the wound no longer was bleeding. The man was beyond anything the three of them could do to save his life.

"There's nothing we could have done.  He was dead before we even arrived; he just hadn't hit the floor yet," Handar says sadly.  "At least it was relatively quick; he'd have passed out within a minute at the most."

"Oh, gods, no," Olven says sadly.  "This guy lives near me.  Has two kids.  How am I going to tell his wife?"  Olven looks around, seeing if he can locate a nightwatchman.  "We have to tell the king about this.  No one's safe in the city as long as that monster is around."

Olven looks suspiciously at Handar.  "What was all that business earlier?  You saw what I saw.  That thing was clearly the aggressor."

Handar sighs softly.  "The king has too much on his plate already.  I doubt a couple of days to find whoever or whatever was responsible for this will make a great deal of difference, given how long our main objective is going to take anyway.  That way, when you tell this man's wife, at least you can also tell her that it won't happen to anyone else."

"And that business earlier?  That was me using my head.  Do you always assume that the victor of a fight was the aggressor unless you saw otherwise for yourself?" Handar asks bluntly.  "This was tragic, but we didn't see him being attacked, we saw him being killed.  If someone were to attack you and you killed him, but I only saw the end of the fight, not the beginning, would you prefer me to assume you'd just committed murder?"

Olven looks at Handar for a long moment.  Finally, he shrugs his shoulders and says, "You and I apparently have very different life philosophies.  Be assured, if I see an eight-foot tall monster standing over your body, I'm not going to stop to ask him if you hit him first."

"So ...", Tarhall interjects, "... do we pursue this miscreant? I almost have a mind to, but not necessarily to engage ... yet ... how would you feel about that, gentlemen?". He sends a look down the street where the creature dissapeared.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:30, Fri 19 Feb 2010.

Tarhall looked down the street.

"I think that's an excellent idea," Olven says.  "Let's see where it goes.  Maybe we can bring the king some useful information."  Olven takes a few steps in the direction the monster went.  "If we see a watchman, we can let him know what happened here."

Olven stepped away from the body.

"What say you, Handar? Do we pursue this beast? I must admit to a certain dissaproval of having the thing at large ...", Tarhall says to his other companion.

Then he turns to Olven: "Do you think you can track it? Do you need a light?"

"If we can track it, certainly," Handar answers.

"I'm a mercenary, not a monster tracker," Olven says grimly.  "But we can do the best we can." Since the three are in agreement, Olven heads off in the direction they saw the monster go.  Once he arrives at the nearest intersection, Olven looks for blood that might indicate which way the wolf-like beast went.

The three heroes tried to determine where the creature had gone, but it was difficult in the moonlight.

Tarhall could tell that their search would be difficult in the murk of the night.

Reaching into a pocket he brings forth a pebble and whispers words at it. I flares into a brightly shining light.


"Let's see if that helps a bit ...", he says looking about once more.

OOC: Use Tracking at Default 12
This message was last edited by the player at 16:47, Mon 22 Feb 2010.

With more light, the group tried again to pick up the creature's track.

"Look here ...", Tarhall says. "I think I have his trail. Let´s see where it takes us ...", he continues and moves along, trying to see where they lead.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:54, Tue 23 Feb 2010.

Olven looks around, but he doesn't spot anything.  Trusting the wizard, however, he shadows Tarhall, leaving it to him to follow the trail.  While Tarhall keeps his eyes on the ground, Olven keeps a constant watch for big, hairy, canine beasts.

The heroes followed the track through the city for a couple of minutes. Some of the people that passed by them looked curiously at them in wonder of the light the wizard had conjured.

But none wanted to meddle in the affairs of wizards, so they didn’t look for long nor did they remain nearby.

As they follow the trail, Olven keeps his eyes open for a watchman that they can flag down.  The king must be told about this.

Tarhall stops and casts about for a moment or two. His expression is not satisfied.

"So ... the eyes do now decieve me ... but let's see if other means will prove useful ... "

Tarhall goes into another couple of conjurations.

OOC: Use Mage Sight to see if any magic items are nearby, especially on his companions. If there are any, they are excluded as he casts Seek Magic, hoping to get a fix on the creature.

Tarhall used his magic and looked around.

After spending around 30 second conjuring and looking around, Tarhalls face returns to a dissatisfied state.

"It would seem that the trail has run cold for now I'm sorry to say. Maybe we'd better get to finding and alerting the constabulory ...", he trails off, still looking about a bit, in vain frustration.

"Damn," Handar grumbles.

"Surprised you're disappointed, Handar," Olven says.  "Well, let's see if we can find a guardsman and let him know what we saw.  Then, let's head to the nearest pub and plan out the trip to the Lyceum."  Olven sets off to look for a watchman or guardsman.

After some looking around, the heroes found a watchman.

"Just because I wanted to find out all the facts before trying to kill that thing doesn't mean I was against tracking it," Handar points out.  "If we'd found him, we'd know for certain whether he was truly a monster, or just someone with an unfortunate appearance acting in self defence.  Don't get me wrong, I suspect you were right, but if you kill him and it then turns out you were wrong, I doubt apologies will make a great deal of difference..."

Nodding his head, Olven says, "I see your point."  Grinning, he continues, "Still, if I see a monster standing over you, I'm going to act to save you first and ask the monster about his intentions later."

When the watchman comes into view, Olven breaks away from the others and strides up to the watchman.  "We saw some kind of grisly beast earlier tonight," he says.  "It killed one of my neighbors, and we've been trying to track it, but we've lost its trail.  It was about eight feet tall, with dark gray fur, huge fangs, and yellow eyes.  It ripped my poor neighbor's throat out."

"Indeed, and I'm grateful," Handar answers with a shrug, well before the watchman shows up.  "Still, it might be best to avoid killing things unless there's no alternative; it's fairly hard to un-kill something later if you've made a mistake."

"Where is the body," the watchman asked.

As they start out to find a watchman, Tarhall lets his brightly shining pebble fall back into his leather pouch, obscuring most of the light.

As Olwen informs the watchman he hangs back, watching the surroundings.

He also muses a bit upon the sentiments of Handar. While the position seems pragmatic enough, it has now been presented enough times to show a certain level of importance to its issuer. Another mental note to go with the several others already collected this night.

OOC: Use Observation to notice anything out of the orinary, like someone watching from shadows or the like.

As soon as they returned to the body, the watchman blew the horn he had with him in a series of signals to call additional watchmen to him. Having done so, the watchman looked through the man’s pockets to find his papers. Then he sounded the horn again, using the same signal as before.

“May I see your papers,” the watchman said.

Tarhall provides his documentation

"Papers?" Olven asks.  "Let me look through my pockets while we walk back to the body."  Olven begins to retrace his steps to his neighbor's corpse.  Papers, papers.  He digs through his pockets, looking for documentation of who he is.

Handar pulls out a set of papers.  Given that he's not out robbing people, they're probably even his.

As the heroes handed their papers over to the watchman, he looked at them, copied some information on a scroll, handed them back, and blew the horn again. As more watchmen arrived on the scene, the heroes were questioned individually, before they were allowed to leave.

[OOC: I'm assuming you give a complete and accurate statement of what happened. If you want to add something or not share a specific detail, please let me know.]

After his questioning, Tarhall asks a question of his own: "Good Constable, I am curious - has there been other incidents as the one we have exprienced reported of late?"

OOC: Use Diplomacy

When they are released he turns to his companions.

"Well Olven, now perhaps we can get onwards to your abode, and think ahead to make plans?", he says with a little smile.

The wars may be over, but evidently all was still not right in the world. He'd be pondering the significance of the fact of a fell creature in the city for some time.

"No," the watchman said. "Nothing like this."

Olven frowns, his forehead creased in worry.  "I do not like this," he said.  "With such a creature loose, none of our citizens are safe.  We have our orders from the king, but this menace gives me pause."

Receiving his papers back from the watchmen, he says, "Thank you for your vigilance.  If you need us for anything, don't hesitate to ask."

Then, nodding at Tarhall, Olven says, "Yes, let's return to my place.  Hopefully, we won't come across any more savaged bodies between here and there."  With this, Olven sets off for his home.

As the heroes arrived at Olven's place, it was really late and it was dark both in his apartment and in his dead neighbor’s.

[OOC: Do you visit the widow and give her the bad news or do you enter Olven’s apartment?]
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:58, Sat 06 Mar 2010.

Handar sighs as he sees the dark apartment next to Olven's place.  "My advice would be to get our plans sorted out first.  Tomorrow, we can give the widow the bad news, and while we might be delayed we'll still have the chance to get on our way, and lose half a day at the most.  If we tell her tonight, we'll probably lose all of tomorrow, and as much as I'm sure you liked the man, we have to put the rest of the kingdom first.."

Olven smiles sadly and says in return, "That may be, Handar, but I place a woman's right to know about her husband's death over increasing the coffers of the kingdom.  I won't be long."  Stopping at his neighbor's door, Olven raps on it three times.  The night is getting on, and the newly widowed woman may have gone to bed already, but if not, Olven wants to let her know about her husband's fate.

Handar nods, not bothering to argue.

Tarhall does wonder a bit at the non-vigil for a late husband ... but then again, life is hard and restitution between the working days important ...

There was no movement in the apartment.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:03, Mon 08 Mar 2010.

"Try once more?", Tarhall suggests. He is not entirely easy with this. Perhaps the ill deeds have begun sooner than has been though so far?

"Perhaps she's already asleep.  I'll knock again, though."  Olven raps on the door, harder this time.  "Hello?" he calls.  "Anyone home?"

Still no answer.

"I have no liking for this. A husband slain and the house unresponsive. Are there no children? Is the door locked?", Tarhall asks, a furrow over his brow.

Shaking his head, Olven says, "Truth to tell, I never really got to know the neighbors."  He tries the door to see if it's unlocked.  "It's not our place to enter uninvited, though."

As it happened, the door was unlocked and it readily swung open when Olven tried the door.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:12, Tue 09 Mar 2010.

Tarhall looks at the door swinging open, and his furrow only deepens.

"In light of what has transpired this night already, I say we have two choices: Enter ourselves to investigate or fetch the guard once more. In light of the fact that we are the ones here and present, I motion the former, and trust to the purity of our intent and the subsequent perception of that fact.", Tarhall says and steps up to the door.

"Shall we?"

"I'm hesitant to enter their home without their permission," Olven says, looking at the door in askance.  "Hello!" he calls.  "Anyone home?"  He frowns in worry.

The apartment is still and quiet.

Olven frowns.  "I'm a little concerned now," he says.  "Let's see if everything's okay."  He pushes open the door and looks inside.  "Anyone have a torch or lantern on them?  I can go grab one from my house if need be."

Tarhall pulls out the glowing pebble from earlier. "This will burn for days.", he says, handing it to Olven. The he subconsciously brandishes his staff, ready to follow.

"Okay, well, here goes," Olven says, gathering himself before entering.  He holds the pebble out before him and scans the apartment.  "Hello?  Is there anyone here?" he repeats.

As the heroes searched through the apartment, there was more of nothing. The apartment looked much like any other, things were in their place, but it was definitely lived in. And beside the magicked pebble, there was only darkness. But that all changed when they entered the bedroom.

The first thing they noticed was that they were stepping in something sticky and that the smell was off compared to the rest of the apartment. And as they continued to look around, they found a single, alive and unharmed and awake, but silent, human boy child less than a year old, with cloth wrapped around his loins, but otherwise unclothed. The cloth partially soaked by the red liquid the boy sat in.

And then they discovered his mother. And she was worse off than the child’s father. No one had stopped the monster this time. Her flesh eaten. Her blood all over the floor. Fortunately all three heroes kept their lunch.

"By all things holy!", Tarhall exclaims as the scene presents itself.

Unfortunately, things are turning out to be as they feared, and the terror of the event strikes like a blow.

But already part of his mind is also forming questions, soon to surface.

Why does the boy live?

Before of after? Who died first? Has the monster struck here AFTER the predation on the husband?

Where did it enter? A window here? No bloody trail through the house after the feasting ...

"The child ...", he says and bends down to secure it in his arms, his white garments staining with bodily fluids on the floor. As he looks at the innocent survivor, he suddenly feels the pain of his own loss, and the sting sets tears flowing slowly from burning eyes.

"Gods preserve us," Olven mutters, glancing wildly around the desecrated apartment as he holds the bright pebble in his left hand.

He had not been prepared for such carnage.  Thank the gods the wizard had sought fit to continue inside.  Olven had intended to continue to his own home.  He shudders to think of the boy spending the night in this place.

"We must alert the authorities at once," Olven says.  "And the boy must be seen to.  Tarhall, I shall go open up my home, and you and Handar can repair to there.  I'm going to retrieve my spear and report this to a watchman."

Olven hands the glowing pebble to Handar and hurries outside to his own home.  Entering, he rushes to his bedroom and grabs up his spear, then heads out into the night to find another watchman.

Wiping away his shame, Tarhall brings the child to Olwens apartmentand starts seeing about getting cloth and blankets so as to clean and warm the boy.

One nagging thought will not leave him.

Did I cause this by my failure to retrieve the beast?

As the heroes left the neighbor’s apartment, trailing red footprints behind them and carrying the child, they ran into two watchmen.

As soon as the watchmen noted them, they asked for the heroes papers.

[OOC: As you've cooperated so far, I'm assuming that you will continue to do so.]

They looked at the papers.

“I see you have preceded us to another murder site,” the watchman said, though neither of them had been at the previous site with the heroes. “That’s not going to look well on your record.”

"Our records be damned," Olven snaps.  "This boy's parents have been savagely mutilated, and you talk about our records?"  He spits on the ground.  "So much for being concerned about my neighbors, eh?"

Looking over at Tarhall, Olven says, "This beast must be stopped before it claims more lives."  Shaking his head, he turns his attention back to the watchmen.  "Sorry, men.  I know you're just doing your jobs."

"I know what you're saying," the watchman said. "Our colleagues didn’t think you’d killed the husband, so I don’t think you killed the wife. But now I’m sure the Seekers would like to speak with you, just to make sure we Watchers haven’t messed things up. A couple of them will likely be around later tonight to investigate the scene of the crime. Just don’t do anything stupid like leave the city before they get the chance to talk to you. That would look very suspect.”

[OOC: As the watchmen are the beat cops, the seekers are the detectives investigating the crime.]

Handar sighs and nods.  "Ah well; I guess this gives us a little more time to prepare for once the seekers realise we're not guilty."

"Of course," Olven says, nodding his head, his temporarily flare-up smoothed out almost as soon as it began.  "Please let us know if we can aid you in your search."

Turning to the others, Olven says, "What shall we do with the boy?  Should we leave him with one of the temples?"  Olven isn't equipped to take care of a child, and truth be told, he has no idea where to begin.

"I could take him," the watchman said, though Olven hadn't spoken to him. "That way at least he has a home until we can find any other relatives. If there are any."

As the heroes spoke with the watchmen, a knight of Solamnia approached them, checked them out, as well as the crimson footprints.

This message was deleted by the player at 06:34, Sat 13 Mar 2010.

"Greetings," Olven says to the knight.  "Are you the Seeker that these Watchers told us about?  Would you care to adjourn to my home?  It's right over there."

Olven makes every attempt to cooperate with the authorities.  These men are just doing their job, and if he were in their shoes, he'd be suspicious of three men found at each bloody crime scene, too.

"Im am not a seeker. My name is Sir Owain and I am here at the king's request to lend my assistance in a group venture. You seem to be the men I am looking for."

Owain's eyes flicker between the men, the stained child and the footprints leading from out of the nearby apartment. His brow furrows with concern as he asks "Have I come at a bad time?".

"You've come at the perfect time," Handar replies drily, "since we'll probably have most of tomorrow and possibly even some of the next day to plan our journey and work out what provisions we'll need.  I'm Handar."

"This is the son of my neighbors," Olven says by way of explanation.  "Earlier tonight, after we three had left the king's presence, we saw a personally brutalized by a giant wolf-like creature.  We hurried forward, but the beast escaped, and we discovered the identity of his victim, this boy's father, my neighbor."

Olven Wolf pauses and sorrowfully looks down at the boy.  "When we returned to my home, we knocked on my neighbor's door to inform his wife.  There was no response, and finding the door unlocked, we entered the apartment.  We found the boy huddled in a bedroom, his mother's corpse badly savaged." Olven chokes.  "I've seen my share of blood on the battlefield, but this was a char el house."

The boy was very young, too young to be overly traumatized by an experience such as this, as terrible as it was. Understanding beyond the basic "my mother is hurt" was likely lost upon him. Owain finds it odd that he was not crying but chooses not to read too much into it just yet.

Owain nods at Handar's introduction politely but is caught up with the situation and postponing proper introductions for the moment in favor of getting a mental foothold on what was happening. Although it was Owain's reason for meeting with these men, it did not seem appropriate in light of the severity of the situation to discuss other matters just yet.

"Husband and now wife, immediately I see a pattern in these killings. Isnt it odd for a beast to target a related couple? it cant be a coincidence.  Why does the child still live? did you chase the beast away in time?"

Owain asks his questions as he follows the footprints and enters the apartment to examine the scene.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:53, Sun 14 Mar 2010.

"No; we found the husband some distance away.  He probably managed to lead the beast away from the child, though we can't know for certain having not been there," Handar says.  "It could have attacked this house at random, while the husband was still at work, and still have been eating when he returned."

Tarhall nods his greeting to the Knight as he comes upon the scene.

He also notes the offer from the watchman. As he hands the child to the guardsman, he muses upon the situation.

"I believe that we should let the watch take the child into their custody. We are needed here for the resolvement of this situation.

Of course, we are as of yet not tasked to examine or intervene here by anyone, but I for one wish to offer my assistance, such as it is and can be.

As for what happened, I find your theory unlikely, Handar. As we entered, there were no tracks in the apartment that indicated that the beast had moved through the house in pursuit of the father - clear bloodspatter would have resulted from that. Just look at what our passing has acomplished. We - or at least someone - needs to get in and uncover what truths can be gleaned from evidence inside. For all we know, this attack may have happened after we lost track of the beast earlier. Still, it is anyones guess as of yet.", Tarhall finishes.

Owain is silent as he examines the gruesome scene within the apartment. He shows little discomfort with what he finds, the only indication showing as a slight stiffening of his back and a grim frown.  His eyes linger on the corpse for a time but then begins to examine the room.

"I am reluctant to let the boy out of our sight just yet. If the beast is targeting a specific family it may be back to finish what it started and I want to be there. We dont know the reason why the boy still lives, but we should not jump to conclusions, whether that be he is a target or not a target."

Owain pauses for a moment as if pondering the boy's situation then turns to Olven.  "How well did you know your neighbors? was it just three who lived here?"

Owain looked around the apartment.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:24, Mon 05 Apr 2010.

"I do see your point, Urien, but if we are to get involved further, someone else has to take him."

He turns to a guard. "Can a woman be brought forth to care for this child in the apartment yonder?", he asks, indicating Olwens apartment, and making overtures to hand over the baby.

OOC: If the guard accepts the child, Tarhall will join Owain searching, using Search, Observation and Tracking as applicable. His aim is mostly to get a sense of what has happened and in what order.

“Bring my wife,” the watchman told the other watchman as he took the baby Tarhall handed him. “She’s closest. The other watchman nodded and left.

“The seekers will be upset of you mess things up in there,” he added as Tarhall joined Owain in the apartment to look around.

Olven stays out of the apartment and lets the others search through it.  In response to Owain's question, Olven says, "I'm sorry to say I didn't spend much time with the family.  I know that there's one other child, a teenager, but I'm not sure if there are any other children."

The child's loss deeply troubles Olven.  He can't explain why, but the whole affair strikes him as wrong.  Shaking his head, Olven awaits the arrival of the guard's wife and what clues the others uncover from the apartment.

"If there is another child it may stand to reason that he too may be in danger. We should try to find him. Olven you didnt say, but is the teenager a boy or a girl?"

Owain makes another scan of the room as he speaks.

"This place is a bit of a mystery. I can't seem to make out who came and went in and out of where. With all this blood ..."

He looks at the terror in the face of the woman, then at the area around her.

"I don't think she put up much of a fight when it happened - scared to death as much as mutilated ... I wonder what those eyes saw before it happened ...", Tarhall muses to no one in particular.

A teenager. Parents killed and sibling spared. The youth may indeed be raging.

Tarhall makes a point of trying to make out where the younster slept or had any belongings stored.

Olven frowns.  "You know, you'd think I'd remember who my own neighbors are, but I can't remember precisely.  A girl, I think?  I'm not sure, though."  The uncertainty nags at Olven, but he shrugs and casts it aside as being unimportant.  That the other child was out in the night somewhere and perhaps in mortal danger is much more important right now.

Turning to the boy, Olven says, "What of your other sibling?  Where might he or she be?  And what did you see tonight?"

Tarhall continued his investigation.

With address and names . . . thinking, i remember the name . . . will i recognize the man . . . in mind, Kar leaves the knight behind and enters the tenement seeking those the King and Majere have laid upon his Path.

The tenement, not unlike so many others he's found within Kalaman, is still this evening.  Making his way, the monk stops abruptly . . . is that blood?!? . . . despite the import of the King's request, he had to investigate and render aide if able.  Following the trail, haltingly, he comes upon several watchman, one holding a child, and another man standing just outside an apartment . . . is that the address?!? . . . this does not bode well . . .

ooc: italics and epsilons denote thought

"We have more people missing.", Tarhall states. "Look, beds here, here and here for adults, here and here for young adults - boy and girl it seems from the items present - and the baby here ... I think we need to cast about some outside and to the back of the building ..."

He strides out to the guardsmen as Kar arrives.

"Guard ...", he starts, then halts, eyeing the new arrival quizzically.

"May it please you," Kar answered the man's look, "I can offer assistance if one is injured here."

"Alas, someone has indeed been harmed, but unfortunately the time for healing is long passed. Foul and most gruesome murder is the business here, as is the work to apprehend the responsible party. I am Tarhall uth Weyranth!", Tarhall says as puts forth a lightly bloodstined hand in greeting.

The monk moves forward, taking the man's hand, and in common, "Kar Reuel of Kharolis, on Mission to Kalaman.  May Majere's counsel solace you!"  Allowing the stave to fall within the crook of his arm, Kar grasps Tarhall's hand with both of his, "Murder say you, did you know the victim?"

ooc: I'm up to speed on the thread, just RPing

Seeing the other man approach, Olven strides forward.  "My neighbors," he says.  "We came across the man earlier this evening, being savaged by some kind of giant wolf creature.  When we returned to my home later, we found that the wife had been killed as well, leaving one young son here."

Olven takes a moment to look more closely at the man who has identified himself.  "Olven Wolf is my name, and these poor victims were my neighbors."

The monk's dress and possessions are minimal and without flair.  Darkened supple leathers form his outer garments while beneath can be seen loose white cloth.  The top pair, leather and cloth, are simple, without buttons or obvious ties, merely one side laid over the other and secured at the waist with a sturdy cloth belt tied in a knot.  Two pouches are tied to the belt.  ooc: think of a 'gi'

Whereas his upper garments mirror each other, the lower set does not.  White cloth pants are visible beneath a stiffer leather skirt, split fore and aft, that flairs from his waist, widening towards his feet, and one would assume granting his legs ease of movement.  Simple leather sandals adorn his feet.

A rolled blanket loops over his right shoulder and is tied, by cord, at his left hip.  A water skin on his right hip, hangs on a long lanyard that loops over his left shoulder.  His dress and possessions are dusty from what could be several days of travel.

The only other object of note is the stave Kar has crooked in his left arm.

"Greetings, Olven. My sympathy on your loss."

Pausing, then asking, "Giant wolf creature?  Or, wolf-like?  Could you describe it?"

Owain greets the monk with a friendly smile and a nod. There would be time enough for proper intoroductions soon, but for now the knight was absorbed with the killings and found it difficult to be distracted.

Owain awaits the detailed description of the beast with interest.

The monk looks upon the Knight . . . thinking, his possessions are who he is . . .

Kar, baffled by their lack of urgency, seeks another, addressing the Watchman, "Is this the only attack this night?"

"There has been another just like," the watchman said. "Though your friends can probably tell you more about it, they were eyewitnesses to the attack."
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:25, Mon 05 Apr 2010.

 . . . thinking, not my friends . . . i miss my friends 'n my brothers . . .
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:08, Tue 23 Mar 2010.

Olven nods.  "Sure, I'll do my best.  The thing was at least eight feet tall.  It was covered in gray-black fur, had blood dripping from its fangs, and yellow eyes.  Oh, and it howled, too."

Rubbing his chin, he says, "It could have been a gnoll, I guess."  He shrugs his shoulders.  "Whatever it is, it's dangerous.  The thing ripped out two adults' throats."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:51, Wed 24 Mar 2010.

This message was deleted by the player at 12:27, Thu 25 Mar 2010.

The monk contemplated on the description given by Olven, but nothing came to mind.  "Aye, a gnoll, perhaps."

To both men, "What of the King's bidding?  Is it abandoned for the moment?"


Edit: Took out references to That-Which-Will-Not-Be-Named in Dragonlance.  FWIW, I'm a total noob to DL myself.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:49, Thu 25 Mar 2010.

Olven shakes his head.  "No, I think the king's charge has the highest priority, but we encountered these slayings for a reason.  I'll do anything I can for the boy's family, though."  Crossing his arms, he frowns, deep in thought.  "I hate to run back to the king and ask him what he'd have us do.  We should let our consciences be our guide in this."

The monk sympathizes with the man, and quietly states, "You have but one choice . . . are you the Father to this child?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:59, Thu 25 Mar 2010.

As if conjured by the question, the guard who left earlier returned with the other guard's wife and the guard handed the child to her and quickly explained the orphan's situation.

"Am I?" Olven looks puzzled.  "No, he belongs to the murdered man.  My line of work doesn't bode well for families."  If the circumstances were better, Olven would smile at the thought of his having children.  Gods, but he'd love to have a family.  One day.  Just not this day.

Turning to the Watchers, Olven says, "Is there anything else you need from us, or are we free to talk while we wait for the Seekers?"  Looking at the knight, Olven says, "Do you bring us further tidings from the king, Sir Knight?"

The monk's shoulders sag . . . thinking, another orphan . . . then rise . . .

"May I?" he asks of the woman.

Not waiting for her response, he takes the child.  He cradles the child in his arms and speaks softly, "I was here this night.  I am yours, Child!"

Kar returns the babe to the woman's arms, "Seek me if you have need."

"No," the guard said. "We don't need you for anything. The seekers know where to find you."

Owain nods at Olven. "Yes, by request the king has given us a gift that will prove useful. We can discuss how best to use it when we have a chance to retire somewhere more private.  Hopefully that will be soon. I think for now we can spare some time to see this matter with the wolf creature to a close. Might I suggest that we obtain more information on what we are dealing with? perhaps we can pay the temple a visit?"

"I would seem that our efforts here are at a close, yes ...", Tarhall says in response to Owain. "And getting a better idea of what this creature could be would certainly be a boon - it's nature lies outside my experience for sure. A visit to a place of lore might be helpful indeed."

"I have other business with the temple as well, we may as well start there." says Owain as he returns to his mount and saddles up. "Shall we be off then?"

"I must be honest, I have never been much of a researcher.  Perhaps while you're in the temple, I should see about acquiring us some mounts for when we're finally allowed to leave the city," Handar suggests.

"I think you will find the merchants far more agreeable during daytime hours, but do as you wish." replies Owain to Handar. They would certainly need more horses if they planned to travel at a pace faster than than that of a snail the knight reasons to himself.

"As it is we may be disturbing the priests at this hour, but no excessively so and this could be construed as something of an emergency."

"Quite so, but first I'll need to find out which stables offer the good horses at good prices," Handar replies with a shrug.

"It's close to midnight," the second watchman who recently returned with the first's wife said to point out how late it was.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:10, Mon 29 Mar 2010.

"I'm coming to think ...", Tarhall says, "... I do have some colleagues around who might also be versed in such lore. I might pay them a visit in the morning as well. It might be prudent to pursue several avenues at once at this stage of inquiry.", he muses.

Kar quietly follows the Lord and others, listening to their conversation.  Eyeing the sky above, the movement of the stars and moons confirm the lateness of the hour.

"Most of our fair city sleeps behind barred doors at this hour, as do the priests, as is the temple.  As should we if we wish to face a new day with a clear mind and sound body.  I, for one, have had a long day of traveling and more lies on my horizon should I rest in my small shrine in Pegasus Ward."

"Just call it a hunch, but beasts tend to be night hunters and I dont expect this one to be different. Will you sleep while other innocent people die? or will we wake a few city coddled priests?"

Owain pauses to let his words do their work on the hearts of men standing around him.

.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:13, Mon 29 Mar 2010.

"Quite so, but as I said, I'm no scholar; I can acquire the goods we need come daylight and I can sell whatever we find for a decent price, but I'm of no use in a library," Handar says.  "Unless you expect to find where the beast will strike next in one of those books, I highly doubt you'll find anything that will save any of tonight's potential victims, and if you do your research after a good night's sleep you might find something that you would have otherwise missed.  To be frank, if the beast is going to strike again tonight, there is little we can do about it; we can't be everywhere at once, and I highly doubt there will be anything in those books to tell us where it'll strike, only where to search for it come daylight."

Owain smiles as does a gentleman when forcing himself to be polite.

"You are right, we certainly dont need all of us to visit the temple. I have business there already. Since I see it fit to wake the priests over this matter I will take the opportunity to conclude all of my business tonight. If I discover anything of immediate importance I will inform you, else I will see you in the morning. May I ask where you are all residing for the time being?"

"I'll accompany you to the temple, Owain," Olven says.  "As for where I dwell, that house over there is mine," and he points to the small home near the murdered man and woman's apartment.  "I won't rest easily, knowing that such a creature is in the city, and if the priests know anything about it, I'd like to help find it."

Handar shrugs.  "Suit yourselves; I'm going to get some sleep.  No doubt I'll see you in the morning.  You'll find me in one of the many beds in the Ward.  Ask around for Handar; you'll bump into someone who knows which one I live in, I'm sure."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:02, Wed 31 Mar 2010.

Owain stares thoughtfully at Handar for several moments as if making his mind up about something, then reaches into his saddlebag. From within he produces a leather document folder fastened closed with a string and toggle. The knight urges his mount to approach and reaches down to hand the man the document.

"I voiced concerns to the king prior to meeting all of you. I know not what sort of men you are and was unsure of whether you could be trusted to represent his majesty in this endeavor."

Owain retains his grip on the folder for a moment and locks eyes with Handar.

"The king has placed his confidence in you all and I trust his majesties judgement. I will also place my trust in you until you prove unworthy of it. Use this gift wisely in your dealings tomorrow. If I may make a suggestion, attempt to gain sponsorship rather than outright purchasing what we need."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:35, Wed 31 Mar 2010.

Kar stands silently, watching the battle of egos.  Prepared to step off with the Lord and Olven, he quietly reminds the knight, "The endeavor the King imagined did not include chasing ghosts in the dark of night"

Handar takes a look at the document to see what it says.

"The endeavor of the king is for the benefit of Kalaman, and so is this. The Lyceum isnt going anywhere and I mentioned before that I have business related to our mission at the temple as well. Once we learn more of this wolf creature we can make a decision on how much time its capture or destruction will require. As of now we havent wasted any significant time on this nor have we gotten off track." replies Owain to Kar's legitimate concern, attempting ease his mind.

"Besides, we can't go anywhere just yet; we were told quite clearly to stay in the city until given leave to go by the seekers," Handar points out.  "At the moment, the time we spend doing this is time we'd otherwise have to spend in the city anyway."

"We shall not be rested, Sire," cautions Kar.  "However, where you lead, I shall go."

. . . thinking, not of himself, is this worthy . . . he'd be an asset . . .

"A boon, perhaps, if you will?" the monk asks with reservation.

"I have business myself on the morrow's sun.  Will you accompany me?"

Edit: Didn't mean to ignore you, Handar, just didn't know how to fit that dialogue in at the moment.

2nd Edit: grammar
This message was last edited by the player at 14:13, Wed 31 Mar 2010.

"I would be pleased to assist you as time permits, so long as the task is honorable business. Let us see to tonight's matter first as it may have bearing on our schedule tomorrow. However, currently I see no reason why time cannot be made for many tasks tomorrow, so if you request my company I would be happy to provide it." says Owain as he starts his horse towards the nearby temple of Reorx.

Under the moonlight of both Lunitari and Solinari, the five heroes split up. Two to sleep and three to wake up.

[OOC: I’ll keep this thread open a little while longer in case there are more things you want to add.]

The document is a royal decree. It says something to the effect that you, naming each character, are agents of the king in the effort to rebuild the city.

He'd made a good bargain, thinking, Majere, forgive a mortal soul . . .

Kar follows in trail of the knight and his horse.