Rickard was a sailor.  Once a Kumlaren soldier, he'd done time on a Cyrenni ship, fought the Ekwesh and participated in on of the fabled exploratory missions looking for the buried treasure on Bulls Isl.

He was a good-looking man with dark hair and well-fitted clothes--not too ostentatious, but not a gutter-loaf by any means.   He'd been sent to meet with three possibly recruits to the Veiled Hand, for the mission to Pennryn.

He'd selected the Briney Goose, a tavern not too far from the Blue Sails Warehouse.    It had taken some solid coin to secure one of the second-floor rooms to meet.  The cormorant was a sailing ship returned from the Dusty Lands to the far West, and all of the Dockward taverns and hostels were busy.    The Crew of the Cormorant had coin and spoils and all of the Dockward was going to party.  Few would take notice of yet another group  of strangers meeting in the Goose.

The Western suite on the second-floor was better appointed than the others on the second floor.  It was decorated as if intended for someone of a more noble stature.  Not your common drunken sailor.   The bed was a four-poster, and there were solid wooden chests in the corner.  One side of the room was set up with comfortable plush seats around a low table.

The windows were shuttered, but they would look out over the pier at the majesty of the ships in harbour.

Rickard had ordered Soothmir and Kahlish to be delivered to the room.  Expensive drink that would fortify and enhance without dulling the senses.  A repast of modest proportions on the crown's purse wouldn't go amiss.

Taking a sip of Kahlish, Rickard leaned back and let out a long sigh as the crown downstairs roared.   Another fight no doubt.    Rickard reviewed the scroll that had been provided to him, drawings and names of the three potential recruits:

• Angharad of the Hanjoo
• Lilith D'Sen, A Rogue of the Ember Blades
• Oswald Crispton, Troubadour

This message was last edited by the player at 09:11, Thu 05 Nov 2020.

While this is Rickard's lead, it's entirely up to you if any of you want to join in on this first meet'n'greet of the new characters.

It had been a long time since Oz had stepped foot in the Briney Goose, but when he saw the invitation the Queen's nephew had sent him, his heart lept to be headed back to the Dockward again. Fresh off a fortnight in another floating alehouse, he reached the town two days before this appointment. Oz went ahead and secured a room at the Goose.

Leaving his travel belongings in his room, Oz headed to the second-floor suite to meet with Rickard at the appointed time. He gingerly knocked three times and patiently waited for the door to open. The former soldier's welcome was friendly but formal.

"Well met Rickard. Are you expecting more guests? I don't believe we'll be able to finish both of those bottles and still keep our wits." The bard chuckled, finding a seat at a comfy looking chair near a low table. "I am interested to hear about this opportunity, sir.", he said, taking a sip of the Kahlish offered to him.

"Well, you're looking considerably better than last I saw you."  Rickard grinned. "But then, so do I."

Rickard stood back from the door, but stuck his head out and glanced both ways down the hallway before nodding to himself and closing it.

"You're the first to arrive."  he said after a moment. "I invited four.  But given the cryptic message..." he shrugged.  "You might be the only one tonight.  If that's the way it is, so be it.  We don't have a lot of time, and it's a risk to even offer what I'm going to.  But that's the life of being a noble born in Druvir these days, isn't it?

"Then it seems to me that you'd do better to guard windows as well as doors.  "   a voice called softly from the window.

While they'd been at the door, she'd opened the shutters.  A figure dressed head to toe in dark clothing, loose and fluttery in the slight breeze coming in off the docks.   She didn't appear to be carrying a weapon, but with so many folds of clothing, neither Rickard nor Oswald could be absolutely certain.

She was definitely a woman, though.  with dark eyes and dusky skin, she offered a quiet but sultry laugh.  "I've been at the sneak-and-peak game a long time.   There ain't much I can't find out if I've a mind to."

She reached out and tossed a small envelope on the table beside the bottles.

"Yeah." She said as she slowly, elaborately, moved into the room, her eyes never leaving Rickard's.  But she stayed on the balls of her--bare--feet.  "I'm Lilith.  We haven't met yet.  But I'm the best friend in the shadwos you'll never see."

It was clear to Oswald that she was moving in such a way as to gauge Rickard's reaction.  She wasn't quite as self-assured or arrogant as her words might've played her.   But she sure knew ho to make an entrance.

Once in the room, she unwrapped the headdress, revealing a short page-boy cut of dark brown hair, swept off her face, but framing high cheekbones and lips that looked as if she were always just about to smile...   "Who else are we waiting for?"

Rickard relaxed immediately.

Oz was about to respond to Rickard when he heard a female's voice from over his right shoulder. It wasn't the bard's first encounter with a back window entrance, but from a story up, it was something he hadn't expected to see this evening. The rogue's entrance was impressive, and he was glad it was her voice he heard rather than feeling her knife in his back. When Rickard's shoulders eased, Oswald felt safe enough to take a seat near the fire; the wind from the sea was quite brisk this evening.

"Are we expecting more, Rickard?" he asked, then took a sip from his glass.

Rickard glanced at the candle in the corner,  three notches remained.

He offered a shrug.   "I suppose not."  he said after a moment.   "There was a mystic I was told to expect, but if the auguries were bad or she got caught in a trance.  I don't know.  I just know enough to let them be.

"But you two."  he offered a subtle smile.  "There's something big going on.   If I'm right, you'll want in on it."

Rickard motioned them back into the room near the table. He pulled out a small staff folio-case and pulled out a couple of parchment maps, laying them flat and drawing one of the additional leviathan-oil lamps from the wall closer to the table.

"There's been raiding along the Cynai hills, to the West.   Third column was bloodied by Khunic forces.  The King's spies say the shipyards on the western coast are very very active.  Raiding activity on coastal villages was pretty bad last year, with the onset of the drought.  Everything I'm seeing points to war within a few years.

There is a noble in Pennryn who's suspected of treason.  We need an honest assessment of the situation in pennryn.  Because some of the tales that have come back from the northwest talk of the mountain-folks rallying with far more organization than they've shown in the past. And the word Mondain was used."

Menkliia asked me to find a couple of people I oould trust who wouldn't mind the colder weather an the rougher company.   When you come back, I fully expect it to lead to more regard from the crown.  And even some forgiveness of certain actions against the crown's interest."

Rickard raised his eyebrows and made a very pointed look at Lilith.


Mondain - literally "Nightmares" in the old tongue.    Enemies of every shape and sizes, supposedly marshaled by Rakoth upon his descent from the sky.   They swarmed across the land like locusts nearly five or six hundred years ago.  Then, nearly over-nigh, it seemed, they diaappared.

The Wizards of Javid locked Rakoth beneath the mountains, but the Heriophant in Kumlar says that this is parable, not fact.
the crown has reason to believe may have committed treason.   But the