In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 35):

More upbeat with the promise of more information come morning, Filbert busies himself tending to the various tasks that need doing.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" he asks while arranging the firewood into a more ergonomically sound configuration.  "You've been gone longer than some expeditions, but not as long as others."

A good decision.  Just the word "east" isn't all that much to go on.

Following Zuriel's example, Maeve refills the pot with hot water and moves to the room next door to have a wash.  She returns looking much cleaner and more comfortable, her breastplate set aside in favor of just a tunic and leggings, and her hair wet from its cursory washing.  Sitting by the fire to allow it to dry out, Maeve unplaits her hair from its customary braid and begins to use her hands to comb out the coppery strands into some semblance of smooth.

Mind you, if we went to Ikuabai, Father would almost certainly be able to offer up some advice. Not much happens in the city that he is unaware of. Not to mention the fact that anyone who *did* try to apprehend or harm us while we were there would have a lot of explaining to do. . . .
This message was last edited by the player at 21:29, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

Taking Zuriel's lead, Lyriel likewise gathers the requisite materials for a field bath, waiting outside the doors for either Zuriel or Maeve to finish. She smiles to herself as she hears one of the two whistling a curious tune. Zuriel finishes first, and Lyriel takes his place. The glamored shirt reverts to its armor form as she removes it, and she stretches before cleansing herself. Once she finishes, she puts the armor, which she has found to be extremely comfortable, back on. This time, it takes the form of a flowing silk sleeping gown, colored lilac and patterned with a twisting silver vine motif.

She emerges and takes a seat by the fire as Zuriel scribbles in the Book of Answers and Maeve idly brushes out her hair. Seeing the eastern warrior with her hair unbound lends a surprisingly feminine air to the usually hard-edged woman. Oh Maeve, your hair is absolutely gorgeous! she gushes. That color! Half the ladies in Hae'driel would kill for that hue! I don't know why you insist on keeping it hidden away in that braid, there are ever so many ways you could wear it! Here, let me show you.

Despite the warrior's protestations, Lyriel advances on her, armed with a brush and several hair clasps. Maeve puts up a brief, valiant struggle, but in the end resigns herself to her inevitable fate and allows the highborn woman to twist her copper hair into an elegant arrangement with a minimum of squirming.

Lyriel sits back and surveys her work. There. Absolutely gorgeous, if I do say so myself. That wasn't so bad now, was it?

Zuriel chuckles to himself as he watches Lyriel determinedly wrest Maeve's hair into a work of art. He smiles sympathetically at Maeve as she looks at him with desperate eyes. He pours her another cup of tea to help her cope. "Honestly Maeve, I'm surprised you lasted this long before a makeover happened."

Once Lyriel finished, he was impressed and somewhat taken aback by the transformation. For a woman who seems to entirely eschew the traditional role of the fairer sex, Maeve would look the part with the beauties of any court in the land...albeit perhaps not whilst armored.

He puts away the Book of Answers once the ink is dry, and takes out the history book written in common and elvish. He starts at the beginning, intending to give it a thorough perusal. He is soon interrupted by Filbert's query. He looks over at the servant and grins. "We did indeed, good Filbert. We did indeed. I'm sure Baldwin will be pleased, whenever we can reunite with him, that is."

He turns to Maeve, who now sported a haunted look, like a refugee of a terrible battle. "Oh? I hadn't realized your father was on this continent as well."

He says nothing further, giving Maeve the ability to reveal more of her parentage or not, as she deemed fit.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:16, Tue 07 Jan 2014.

Boreas tries and fails to hide his notice of the two women.  Free of the grime that covered them on their journey, they caught his eye for longer than he had intended.  Briefly shaking his head, he smiles sharply at Zuriel's comment.

He follows the others' lead, trying not to tarry too long in the refreshing water.

When he emerges, he has re-applied his professional air.

Thank you, Filbert.  Your help is greatly appreciated.  I suggest we all get some rest before we travel east in the morning.  We're going to need it.

Well, you see Lyriel, Maeve says, deeply uncomfortable but trying to hide that to avoid hurting the highborn elf's feelings, typically, when you make your living messily eviscerating things, hair is not always the first thing on your mind.

With great trepidation, she looks in a mirror which happens to be hanging in the room.

Huh.  Well, what do you know?

She has a gift for fashion, I'll say that.

After (surreptitiously) admiring Lyriel's handiwork for a while, Maeve gives her head a brisk shake, allowing her hair to fall against her back in waves once again.

Your eye for fashion is truly something, Lyriel. The ladies at the Sultan's court would be clamoring for your assistance.  But it hardly seems appropriate for an impromptu council of war.

Maeve resumes her place on the rug in front of the fire.

As I was saying: there are advantages to Ikuabai.  I can guarantee our protection, that much I know for sure.  Even if the General isn't on the Continent, his influence will go a long way, which could be very useful for our purposes.

Though it could be that it's just as wise to go to our second option. Maeve looks at Zuriel and Lyriel.  Do either of you know anything about this Font of Knowledge?

"Yes, actually," Zuriel replies to Maeve's query."The Font of Knowledge is an abbey, the primary temple for Ignati. It's also the largest library on the continent, and possibly the world. They have been known to provide refuge and access to knowledge even to those the Empire disapproves of. We'd likely be safe enough there, though the monks are a bit...eccentric. The abbey is, however, very remote. It would probably take us several weeks to make the journey. I'd rather we were sure of our destination before heading so far from civilization. Let's see what answer the book gives us tomorrow."

Zuriel's eyelids grow heavy, and he stretches, ready for an early bedtime to prepare for the next day's travels.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 42):

Keef spends some time re-searching the cabin before finding a suitable spot to lay his pack and rest.  He then buries himself in his books while the others freshen up.

It takes several misunderstood 'hints' and finally a stern word from one of his companions for Keef to understand that he too should 'freshen up' lest he 'alert anyone downwind of our approach'.  He bathes hastily and with a lot of slipping, banging, and splashing before returning to the cabin.

Once there, he busies himself with his knife and some bits of cloth.  At first he seems to be making a small hat, but is unsatisfied with his efforts and settles on cutting a long thin swath of fabric which he ties around the Everstaff.

There!  Now Longshank has a scarf at least... not much but...

Keef looks up when the Font is mentioned.

Oh yes!  I've read all about it, and it sounds amazing!  You can trade... but not gold, only words... INFORMATION words!  Secrets, lies, spells, poems, prose, stories, tales, yarns, incantations...

Keef is so enthusiastic that he begins to physically vibrate with energy.

Maeve watches drowsily as Keef darts around manically chattering about this and that.  She wonders where the lad gets his boundless energy.

Well, if we're turning in, we ought to set a watch.  If Filbert's right--and I have no reason to doubt his judgement--we're all in danger, even in this cabin.

Maeve settles herself in front of the fire.

I'll take first watch. The rest of you can hash out where you're sleeping.

Boreas lays out his bedroll and generally readies his sleeping area.  He fishes in the pouch of holding and pulls out his trusty caltrops.

I'll join you for first watch.  Should give me the chance to set up some surprises for anyone who would intrude.

He starts placing caltrops at the doorway and along all of the windowsills.

If anyone needs to leave the house, be wary of the caltrops.  They can be pretty painful.

Zuriel raises his eyebrow at the change of watch order, but makes no comment. He gathers his books, makes one last mug of tea, and heads off to one of the bedchambers.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 46):

Per usual, Keef passes out face-down with gusto.

Chubbs follows Boreas, double-checking and disapproving of the placement of his caltrops.  He then finds a place in a dark corner and sits confident that he is better at sleeping than anyone else in the cabin.

Lyriel likewise follows Zuriel over to the bedrooms, claiming the adjacent chamber as the girl's quarters.

[Private to Zuriel Silendril: Lyriel bids you a quiet goodnight in the dark of the hallway. You can't be sure, but for a moment as she stands opening the door to her room you'd swear that the hem of her lilac nightgown is a few inches higher, and the neckline just a tad lower than when she was just with you in the common room. You don't have time to contemplate the matter long, however, as she vanishes into her room with a faint smile, closing the door behind her with a click, and leaving you standing alone in the hallway.]

In reply to Lyriel Vesper (msg # 48):

The quiet evening fades into an unease dawn without further incident, much to our exhausted heroes' collective relief.

Filbert slept soundly, but awoke like clockwork at sunrise with little noise or fanfare.  Dressing himself, he swiftly stokes the fire and puts water on to boil along with a second cauldron filled with a cinnamon-scented mash of oats and meal.

In reply to DM (msg # 49):

That smells delightful, Filbert, Maeve says, the scent of breakfast having roused her from a deep sleep.  She makes her way into the main room, braiding her hair has she does (and noticing Lyriel watching her with an expression of resigned disapproval.)

Now then.  What does the book have to tell us?

In reply to DM (msg # 49):

With renewed vigor, Keef throws himself into his morning routine.  Today this entails reading from The Tales of Sir Greenheart, swinging Flametongue at trees, climbing on top of the small cabin to get a look around, drinking some water, watching Filbert, suggesting things Filbert could add to the mash, attempting to capture a squirrel (for Filbert), attempting to talk to said squirrel, doing push-ups in the grass, poking at the door of the cabin, and taking Chubbs and Longshank for a walk.

Zuriel walks into the dining area with the Book of Answers open, reading. He sets it down on a clear spot for everybody to see.




"Looks like we're headed to Ikuabai, Maeve."

The paladin digs into the oat mash with gusto, savoring the flavors. "This is delicious, Filbert. My compliments!" Despite, or perhaps because of the taste, Zuriel bolts down his bowl quickly, positively vibrating with excitement, to the point where it's as if there are two of Keef.

Standing up, the paladin clears his throat for attention. "Friends, we have a ways to travel, and we must make haste. But first, there is somebody who I'd like you all to meet." Gathering his bewildered friends, Zuriel opens the door of the cabin and leads the party outside into the morning sunshine. He walks a couple of paces, then turns around and faces the party. Extending both hands, he closes his eyes and begins chanting in some other language.

"!לזמן את חיל הפרשים"

[Private to Lyriel Vesper: You recognize the language as Celestial, which is used for many of Tassada's spells. You don't recognize this one, however, though Zuriel pronounces the complicated syllables flawlessly, albeit with some strange accent you are unaccustomed to.]

A circle of white light appears on the grass before the paladin. Lines and symbols begin to form, creating a summoning circle inscribing a motif looking vaguely like a tree of symbols. Once complete, the circle pulses with a blinding light. Once the light fades, standing in place of the circle is a magnificent midnight black mare. She tosses her glossy black mane, snorts, and looks at the party with warm eyes the color of molten gold. Her gaze is uncanny, with no discernible pupil, but nevertheless kind, and extremely intelligent.

"This," Zuriel says proudly, "is Shahara."

[Private to Lyriel Vesper: You recognize the word Shahara from several of the older liturgical prayers. It means 'Dawn,' in the feminine form.]
This message was last edited by the player at 15:24, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

Zuriel, she's lovely, Maeve breathes quietly, approaching the mare slowly as instructed by her father, completely ignoring for the moment the fact that the horse materialized out of thin air. Hello, Shahara.  Hello.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 53):

Wow!  That's fantastic!  Can she fly?  If not that's ok, it's still amazing!

Keef looks to Chubbs and Longshank for confirmation that it is indeed amazing, but finds none.

Can you do that anytime?  Does she talk?  Do you joust?

Boreas takes a quick step backward as the horse appears but quickly regains his composure.

Shahara, it's a pleasure to meet you.  I am honored to welcome you to the P.A.R.T.Y.

Zuriel takes a brief step back as Shahara materializes. All of the sudden, foreign thoughts, sensations, and emotions flood his mind as he becomes connected to what his companion experiences.

Shahara whinnies and takes a couple steps back behind the paladin, clearly not expecting such a welcoming party. She regards the others hesitantly, peeking around Zuriel and providing a rather comic scene as a massive warhorse attempts to take cover behind her paladin. He senses her uncertainty emanating from her in waves.

Oh, sir, I wasn't expecting...more of your kind. Her voice, speaking Celestial in Zuriel's mind, is high-pitched and full of trepidation, but also a curiosity.

"Shhh shhh," Zuriel responds, stroking her mane. "It's okay, these are my friends."

And please Shahara, call me Zuriel, he adds silently.

Oh okay, si...Zuriel. Um...tell them I said...hello."

Zuriel smiles at her, and informs the party. "Shahara says hello." Zuriel can feel the mare's shyness lessen somewhat, and she takes a few tentative steps out from behind the paladin, bobbing her head politely at each of the party members in turn in an approximation of a bow.

"And no Keef, I don't think she can fly. But I do joust," Zuriel adds with a smile.

With Zuriel close at hand, Shahara allows Maeve, Boreas, and Keef closer. Maeve extends her hand, palm up, and Shahara sniffs it before nuzzling it curiously.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:45, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

I wish we had more time for introductions, but I'm sure we'll get to know each other very well on the trail.  Filbert, thank you again for your help.

I believe it's time we set off.

Boreas finishes tightening the straps on his pack and collecting the caltrops he scattered at night.  He approaches the door, looking back to Filbert to dispel the illusion.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 56):

"A second horse? Marvelous!  We could get a carriage," Filbert says, perking up at the prospect.  "One of Master Baldwin's acquaintances is a rather distinguished horse breeder who lives about a day's journey north.  Technically on the way.  He'd lend us a cart, no questions asked -- maybe horses, as well."

When Shahara stays blankly at him, he shrinks back a bit.

"Ikuabai isn't exactly nearby," Filbert sniffs defensively.  "And we're in a bit of a hurry."

The steward dispels the various illusions as the P.A.R.T.Y. gathers itself for the coming journey, then secures the lodge behind them.  A final nod indicates that he ready whenever they are.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:51, Wed 08 Jan 2014.

It might be wise to find horses for the rest of us.  The journey is long and they would be a great help.  I say we take Filbert's advice.

Boreas steps out the door and onto the trail.

Lyriel gasps in delight as Shahara materializes. Oh, she's magnificent!

Seeing the mare's trepidation gives her an idea. She searches her pockets for something sweet. Today she wears the glamor as a light, airy, forest-green traveling tunic belted at the hips, and brown pants probably a bit more close-fitting than they technically needed to be. A thorough search of her pockets turn out nothing, however, and she dashes back inside the cabin for leftover oat mash for breakfast.

She returns to the clearing with the oatmeal in a wide bowl, and advances hopefully towards the warhorse, waiting for Shahara to allow her closer.