In reply to Baldwin (msg # 6):

Maeve eats when the meal arrives, but without great interest. The bard Baldwin, it seems, has rather exaggerated the "fame" of the Hitchcock's fare. And anyway, the others gathered around the table are much more deserving of her attention.

The bard seems a potentially decent sort, though she does wish that he would skip the dramatics and simply get to the point. The ranger is likewise intriguing, though he has not said enough for her to form an impression one way or another.  His silence is fine by her; Maeve does not appreciate talking for the sake of hearing one's voice.  The boy is therefore growing quickly tiresome.

"Heavy enough" she says in response to Keef's incessant questioning about her guissame. "Though it's the force behind the jab and not the heft of the weapon that gets the job done. And no,"Maeve says, anticipating his next query, "No, you cannot touch it."

In reply to Maeve (msg # 7):

Keef finds a spot on the floor to flop his gear with little ceremony.  He sits down at the table carefully, clearly unsure of what protocol or procedure one follows in such a situation.  He accepts a small amount of simple food with equal caution.  Not fear, merely a desire not to offend.  He eyes the ale and wines with a deep mistrust and accepts only water to drink.  For anything that looks like sweets, however, he shows less reservation.

Force: that makes sense.  My master-at-arms always said it 'follow-through'.  Sounds like the same thing to me.

Keef watches his companions closely and with great interest.  He seems to suddenly have remembered something important.  He fishes around in his dirty backpack and retrieves a fat ugly toad.  He is about to place it on the table but thinks better of it and rests it on one knee while folding his legs under himself on the table.  The toad stares at the table with indifference.  Keef places a small paper hat on its head.

I've never been to such a fancy place, do they have jesters?  I've never been to a place that had jesters.  I've seen them before you know... just not while eating.

Keef smiles broadly at everyone and offers morsels to the toad.

Oh! he says suddenly, looking at Baldwin, Do they allow pets here?  He doesn't eat much.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:41, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

Boreas eats with far more grace than you would expect from a man of his profession.  He seems to know what to take and how much, enjoying the meal thoroughly.

Not that I don't appreciate the meal and the company, but Baldwin, why are we here?  What do you want?

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 9):

"Pets are welcome enough, lad.  Jesters, too!  But as for the complicated question...," Baldwin smiles good-naturedly, taking a slow sip of wine before responding further.

"You're each here for your own reasons, of course.  Fame and fortune, for some.  Personal redemption, for others, and the opportunity to escape the everyday shadows that weigh upon their soul.  Still more among you are here for the chance to right the wrongs of the past."

He pauses to set down his cup and slip his lyre into his hands, which he strums gently - almost absently - while he speaks.

"But as for why you are gathered together here, at this precise moment?"

His fingers fly across the strings, weaving a melody that evokes a sense of great promise in those with an appreciation for such things.

"You're here because you chose it.  Each of you.  Because some very great part of you knows that this world can be better than it is.  This world is in grave danger, though you wouldn't know it from lounging about the oblivious streets of Hae'driel."

"You're here because that same voice inside your head is certain that somewhere, buried deep within the marrow of your bones and the blood in your heart, lies the strength, courage, and intellect to keep Aeryis safe.  To give its residents a better life than the one they know, and to protect them from a future that cannot be allowed to happen."

The music fades as Baldwin's fingers leave the strings to curl around his cup once more.

"And, thank the Muse, you'd be right about that.  All I want, really, is to give you a brief history lesson and a light to guide your along your way.  Both will be provided..."

He pauses again to gesture at the empty places at the table.

"... in the very near future."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:40, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

Zuriel strode down the wide avenues of Hae'driel, barely paying attention to the bustle of commerce around him. His chain mail clinked under the tabard marking him a Paladin of the Emerald Flame as he quickened his pace. Zuriel sighed. He was late. Dealing with a would-be thief in the common market had taken time out of his already tight schedule.

A highborn merchant had caught a street urchin trying to pilfer some cabbages from his stand. Zuriel had happened across the scene just as the livid merchant began howling for the guards. "My cabbages!" he shouted, "this brat was trying to steal my cabbages! Guards, arrest him!" Zuriel managed to make his way to the shopkeeper before any members of the Watch, or worse, fellow Paladins of the Emerald Flame, heard the din. The "thief" was a scrawny, starving thing of around 8 years of age, though as malnourished as he was it was hard to tell. The penalty for theft by the lower classes was thirty days in the dungeon for the first offense, regardless of age. Clearly the boy would not survive a stay in the gaol, yet to his brothers-in-arms, the Law was the Law. Zuriel looked into the boy's eyes. There was no ill will to be found, simply hunger and a quiet pleading desperation.

Speaking placatingly, Zuriel managed to convince the shopkeeper to accept thirty days of service from the boy in lieu of having the guards throw him in the dungeon. Much better, Zuriel had reasoned, that the boy repay his debt to society in a way that benefited the people, such as assisting an upstanding merchant in providing his wares to the public. The merchant would be expected to room and board the boy, in exchange for his labor running errands for 30 days as punishment for attempted theft. By the end of the conversation, the merchant was thoroughly convinced that he had both a good deal in the cheap labor and was doing the city a public service. Satisfied, Zuriel left with an appropriately stern admonition to the would be thief, which very nearly caused the poor lad to faint.

Turning away, Zuriel struggled to suppress a smile. Rather than being sentenced to certain death for the crime of attempting to feed himself, the boy would receive food, a roof over his head, and honest work for a month. With luck, if the boy did his work dutifully he would likely convince the merchant to keep him on as help. It wasn't much, but Goddess willing, it might be enough.

Still, the fact remained that he was now behind schedule. The crowd parted around Zuriel as he continued on his way, the people nearby not wanting to get between a paladin and his duties. Whether it was respect for his mission or fear of being caught breaking some law that caused the crowd around him to give way, Zuriel was never quite sure. He imagined it was a mixture of both. Whatever the case, he rarely had to deal with the crushing mass of population that was the majority of the city.

Finally, the paladin neared the appointed inn, if not quite at the appointed time. Pausing briefly at the door and nodding politely to the attendant, Zuriel swept inside. He took a moment to take in his surroundings before continuing further into the building. It was clear where he was expected. The man who could only be the Bard sat at the head of a table laid out with a generous spread, even by the standards of the Hae'driel aristocracy. A rugged man with one eye sat at the table, as did a small but self-assured girl with a polearm much larger than herself. The third person Zuriel initially mistook for a squire before noticing he too was clutching what could only be an invitation to the Quest. Young even by human standards, he was dressed in motley equipment and was chattering nonstop. A boy, looking more like he was out playing soldier than actually embarking on an adventure. Of course, if Zuriel was honest with himself, that's exactly what his own father would have thought of Zuriel had the illustrious Edrahil Siléndril known of this expedition.

His gaze fell upon the remaining two places set. For himself, and one other. A ragged band to say the least, but if Zuriel had learned one thing in his life, it was that outward appearances could be deceiving, and those who might seem inconsequential or outcast often had the greatest potential. His himself was proof of as much.

Finally taking his place at the table, Zuriel bowed respectfully to the Bard before seating himself.

"I apologize for my tardiness, Master Baldwin. I hope that I have not caused offense. I am most eager to hear of this Quest you set before us!"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:40, Thu 19 Sept 2013.

Looks like we're nearly all here.  Maybe we'll finally find out what we're doing when that last seat is filled.

Boreas heard the clanking of the paladin's armor - even over the sounds of the pub - well before he stepped into view.  He was an elf, "highborn," and the bright green heraldry on his tabard confirmed his status as a paladin of the Flame.

Boreas knew of the Emerald Flame well enough, mostly from Father and Mother's diatribes against that "heathen tree-worship."  He wasn't so concerned about all that, but the paladins carried a reputation for, let's say, rectitude, a standard that might prove inconvenient depending on the tasks to come.

Best to stay on his good side, if we're going to be working together.

It didn't hurt matters that it would cause Mother and Father to grimace to hear him say it.  He nodded slightly at the newcomer, willing a smile, and gave the traditional greeting of the elven faith,

En taro Tassada.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 12):

Keef watches the paladin approach with great enthusiasm.  You're almost positive he's mouthing the words "a paladin, wow" as the man sits.

For a moment, only a moment, Keef looks as if he'll be able to keep quiet.

A paladin?  Are you coming with us?

Keef is so excited that he can barely sit.  The toad has to maneuver constantly to avoid being spilled onto the floor.

And you'll sing songs about this Baldwin?  About us?

With the largest grin you've probably ever seen, Keef looks at each person at the table in turn.  He is clearly envisioning some great ballad or tall-tale starring everyone he's just met.

In reply to Keef (msg # 13):

Maeve hides a grin as she watches the boy nearly wet himself in his excitement over the paladin.  Tiresome he may be, but there is something hopelessly endearing about his enthusiasm.  She wonders if it will last.

The newcomer seems a capable fighter, which pleases her in spite of the fact that he is also clearly of a god-fearing mentality.  Maeve doesn't *not* believe in the deities per se, but given the choice she would much rather place her faith in her own abilities rather than a fickle God who may or may not decide to be of assistance.  Her father has always been of much the same opinion. It is one of the things she most admires about him and undoubtedly one of the traits that helped him to get to where he is today.

Maeve turns her attention to the last unoccupied seat and silently wills their missing companion to appear.

Zuriel nods and returns the the proper response to the hunter's greeting.

En Taro Adun, friend, and well met.

The paladin inclines his head politely to the quiet girl with the spear before turning to regard the young boy.

Smiling, Zuriel replies "Yes, little one. I will be traveling as part of this expedition. I am Zuriel Siléndril. And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?""

Zuriel gently removes the toad from his plate and returns it to the boy while he awaits a response. An interesting group to be sure. For all his rough and ungroomed looks, the hunter was comporting himself with impeccable manners and decorum at the banquet. The young girl had the eyes of a warrior, and Zuriel was fairly certain that the boy's toad was no ordinary child's pet, but a familiar.

There was clearly more to this group of misfits than first met the eye.

In reply to DM (msg # 1):

Lyriel walks up to the door of the Inn, slightly out of breath, realizing she was already late...but that couldn't be helped she thought to herself as she scanned the room. She saw the man who must be Filbert standing behind the bar polishing the oak in front of him with a worn rag. He looks up and their eyes meet.

Ah you must be the last of them then, they've been waiting for you missy, best not keep them any longer.

Her green eyes flash, shocked at his manner.My tardiness is my own concern barkeep, just show me to them if you please.

Grumbling a bit under his breath highborn, he muttered. Then straightening up he addressed her well you best be following me then, my lady.

She strides over tucking a stray lock of honey blonde hair behind her ear and fastidiously brushing the city dirt from her robes. Upon entering the back room she notices the others gathered around the table. Quite a lot we are then she muses as she takes her seat.

Greetings Master Baldwin, everyone. She nods at the others. A thousand apologies for my lateness, I'm afraid I had some important business to attend to that couldn't be helped. With her last words her eyes land on Zuriel, a bemused smile crossing her berry colored lips.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:42, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

Upon hearing a familiar voice, Zuriel looks up in obvious surprise before his face opens into a radiant smile.

"Lyriel! I'm so glad you decided to join in after all! With you along, we're sure to have the Goddess herself on our side. Come, sit!"

Zuriel stands to greet his associate from the temple before pulling out the unoccupied chair in front of the empty place setting next to him.

"Master Bard, I believe that makes a Party!"

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 17):

Keef stands up quickly, hand outstretched with the rolled-up letter from Baldwin again.

I'm Keef, if it please you, sir.  And all of you Sirs and Ladies.

Keef smiles and nods, clearly confident in his reply.  He then realizes that he has sent the toad sprawling to the floor as well as knocked over his chair and backpack in the excitement.

Keef vanishes under the table momentarily, collects his belongings and perches on his chair once again.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 17):

"And so it is that all have arrived," Baldwin nods, standing up to hover behind his chair just as Lyriel settles into her own.  "Please continue to eat and drink while I answer the very pressing question on your minds: What are you doing here?"

He glances at Boreas, deliberately pausing to refill his glass with icewine before continuing.

"As you are all aware, there's been a great deal of grumbling lately about the usual topics of international concern.  Telsid-Fas remains choked with gnomish refugees; Hae'driel seethes over the loss of Loe'driel; the East insists upon honoring trade agreements with our enemies; and the minotaur of Grelklic have grown so fond of the taste of gnome meat that they have stopped entertaining our diplomatic envoys entirely.  Truly, the list goes on and on."

He turns toward the maps behind him and points at the most zoomed-out one, which shows the whole of the world.

"But those matters are trifling compared to what I am about to tell you."

His eyes harden slightly, and his tone grows serious.

"What you see behind me is a series of maps. On the first, I have marked each and every temple dedicated to an established member of the Immortal Pantheon that existed during our troubles with the Cult of the Damned some 100 years ago.  Good gods and goddesses are marked with silver, neutral powers with beige, and the nebulous beings attuned to evil with black.."

"Compare this with the second map, which shows the same information as it is today," he says, quietly.  "Tell me, does anything stand out?"

He waits for a few moments while his guests study the map in question.

"Keen eyes will notice a loss of silver across the world, a slight uptick in black, and a marked increase in beige territory.  But this does not tell the whole story."

Baldwin rubs his hands together, cracks his knuckles, and slips his lyre into place.  As he plays, the notes seem to correspond with floating nodes of color which swirl as he speaks, forming themselves into numbers that hover over the first two maps.

"What you're seeing now is the total number of individuals each temple has enrolled as an empowered member of the church.  That is, they show a tally of every person to whom the deity will grant a fraction of their power when asked.  Clerics, paladins, and the like."

He changes his strumming pattern slightly, rearranging numbers to total them under a shimmering symbol the represents each deity.

The numbers on the modern map are far, far lower across the board than those on the older map, and two in particular stand out.  While most of the faiths suffered hundreds or thousands of losses, Tassada's symbol dropped by only a scant dozen.  As for Kazul, the number was reduced from several thousand to six."

"Obviously, there is a margin of error for these numbers -- particularly in the case of Kazul -- but I'm fairly confident Ignati has not led me too far astray.  The base concept is sound: we are losing holy men and women at an alarming rate."

He clears his throat self-consciously, then continues.

"There are only three reasons for numbers like these.  The first is the notion that in this time of widespread crisis, anger, and righteous fury, fewer people are turning to pantheon for assistance.  This explanation does not fit with the steady number of temples we still see in operation, however, which leads me to consider a more horrifying possibility."

"In my mind, this decline is due to either fewer people being chosen to wield the power of the gods... or to something preventing them from being able to do so."

He replaces his lyre, though the lights and numbers linger in the air for a good minute after the final note, and slides into his seat.

"In essence, ladies.  Gentlemen.  Toads, as well.  You are here to investigate the very real possibility that the gods are dying.  And, if it turns out that they are, to save them before it's too late."

He takes another sip from his wine and smiles in relief as it cools his tired vocal cords.

"I have further instructions on how to go about doing this, of course, but first," he says hesitantly, as if dreading what is about to come.  "I should ask if you have any questions."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:16, Thu 19 Sept 2013.

Zuriel frowned as he contemplated what Baldwin had postulated.

"Apologies, but what exactly do you mean by "dying?" How can gods die? They are immortal by definition, as constant and eternal as the stars! The very idea is preposterous. Surely there must be some other explanation. Perhaps it is we mortals who are lapsing in our faithfulness..."

The paladin's sentence trailed off, as his arched eyebrows furrowed in thought, clearly disturbed by the notion that gods may not be so immortal after all.

Boreas sits in silence for a moment, mulling over this new information.

Troubling, indeed, but then again, there's a reason they call it the Liar's Lyre.

He looks up, directing his unpatched eye just past Baldwin's left ear.

Best never to look a bard in the eyes.

He speaks.

I've been on a great number of journeys before coming here, but I've reached far fewer destinations.  What you say, if it's true, is a destination.  Right now, we're all concerned with the journey.

In reply to Baldwin (msg # 19):

"As you say"Maeve said, absentmindedly removing the toad from her lap and returning it to its young master ,"There could be many other explanations for this.  People may leave the church for any number of reasons. That's hardly evidence that there is something sinister afoot."

The young woman was feeling somewhat out of her element. Dealing with the ethereal realms of the spirits was a daunting prospect for one who preferred to, as she'd often heard growing up, "deal in steel."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:00, Thu 19 Sept 2013.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 22):

"Ah, but these numbers are not reflections of church's total flock," Baldwin says, choosing the answer Maeve first.  "They represent the number of followers who have been endowed with divine magic.  If anything, the number of people actually attending temple services has gone up."

Leaving Boreas for last, he turns to the paladin.

"Maybe 'dieing' is the wrong word, Sir Zuriel.  I can't know for sure that they are actually perishing, of course -- we know so little about the true nature of the divine.  Whether they have grown miserly with their gifts, or too weak to bestow them, or have simply seen their connection to this world steadily deteriorate is part of what I hope to learn during our time together."

He drains what's left of his icewine in silence.

"Now then," he says, fixing his eyes in Boreas's direction.  "The meat and potatoes, as it were.  The journey I envision involves several separate destinations, to keep with your metaphor, each with a distinct goal in mind.  First, we must identify what is actually happening.  Second, we must determine what to do about it.  And, finally, we must execute the appropriate plan."

He chuckles softly, shaking his head at Boreas as if anticipating further objections.

"Easy enough, when spoken out loud, yes.  But I can already read the questions forming upon your lips.  You want details.  Facts, not fiction.  And I will be happy to oblige you."

Baldwin reaches into the folds of his billowing cloak and produces a small metal object.  Thoroughly unimpressive despite the fanfare surrounding its appearance, it looks for all the world like a paperweight with a thin slit carved horizontally across its surface.

"An old friend of mine named Magnificent Melvin used to run a magical emporium in Ikuabi packed magical artifacts.  I shared my concerns on this matter with him countless times, and though he never offered to help me, he did lend a sympathetic ear.  Upon his deathbed, he left me this."

He smiles at some passing memory before pressing on.

"Behold, the Godstone.  Though, in all honesty, that name has not yet caught on."

He places the object carefully on the table, slot facing upward.

"Melvin called it an aural analyzer -- gnomes have the most unimaginative names for things.  It is said to have many properties, but chief among them is the ability to read the relative power levels for various magical sources.  Especially divine magic."

To demonstrate, he holds a silver pendent over the device.  It shimmers in the sunlight streaming forth from the windowpane, and many of you recognize it immediately.

"This is a holy symbol of Tassada," Baldwin explains, sliding it into the analyzer's slot, where it clicks easily into place.  "Observe."

He adjusts several dials on the object that were not apparent before, aligning them with the symbol, then steps back as the object starts to shudder and hiss like a teakettle.  The forward-facing panel of the analyzer lights up and shows three zeroes made from fragmented lines of blue light.  (OOC: It looks rather like the display of a digital clock).

"Since this is newly crafted from the temple down the street, it has never been used as the focus for divine spells, and thus the Godstone cannot read it properly.  But look at what happens when I insert one that I borrowed from a friend in the clergy."

Baldwin swaps out the symbols, and the display changes to reveal a rather large number.  It counts down at irregular intervals, one or two numbers at a time, as you watch.

"I have been studying this device for decades, but I still don't know as much as I'd like about this thing. The number ticks down slowly throughout the day, never reaching zero.  At dawn, it is restored to a number very close to the large value it started at the previous day.  Since I began observing it, this starting number has trended downward, but I am not certain what it means."

He leaves the Godstone running as he turns his attention once more to the maps.

"I have traveled the world looking for holy symbols from each religion, a task made all the more tedious by the Godstone's fickle requirement that the symbol must have been actually used to channel the energy of the god or goddess in question.  This is a state of being I have labeled as 'empowered'."

Baldwin clears his throat in preparation of finally getting to the point, temporarily distracted by the Godstone ticking down four numbers at once.

"As you know, you are not the first group I have sent upon this quest.  While each of the other parties were ultimately defeated, many did enjoy partial successes."

He lays out a collection of pendants, each cast in one form of precious metal or another.  You can't help but recognize at least one or two of the lot.

"Behold, empowered symbols corresponding to the churches of Hort, Tassada, Rachelle, Cenadora, Ignati, and Tyblin.  Curiously, the Godstone only functions with the former three, remaining blank when Ignati, Cenadora or Tyblin's is inserted despite the fact that I know for certain their symbols are empowered."

"This leads me to speculate that there is something Hort, Tassada, and Rachelle have in common that Ignati, Cenadora, and Tyblin do not share, though I'll be blasted if I can figure out what that might be."

"That said, I don't want to overlook the possibility that Melvin's analyzer has been damaged or is limited in some way.  We must learn more."

Baldwin waits for his words to sink in, then adopts an extremely serious tone.

"Which brings us to your first assignment, should you be willing to get involved in the affairs of gods and men," he continues.  "And of women and toads, as well."

He turns to the third map, which has until now gone unreferenced.

"This map shows the locations of the only two other objects on this plane of existence that seem similar to the Godstone.  One, as you can see, seems to be nestled somewhere in the woodlands west of here.  The second, I'm afraid, resides in Loe'driel."

Baldwins gives a meaningful look to those gathered before him.

"If I may offer some counsel, I would suggest searching the forests first."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:56, Fri 17 Jan 2014.

Would you have us bring you ten boar pelts as well?

Nonetheless, I could use a walk in the woods.  Do we have a way of locating this object?  Do we know what it even looks like?  I would imagine someone with as storied a history as you would have something that could be of use.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 24):

Baldwin appears confused by the question.

"It should resemble the Godstone in most important aspects.  You will, of course, be given a copy of this map, which has a close approximation of its last known location marked in a mystic pigment of my own devising.  I call it cloud ink.  Any changes I make to this map will appear likewise on yours.  The reverse will also be true, so that your notes will be reflected on my copy."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:03, Thu 19 Sept 2013.

In reply to Baldwin (msg # 23):

"I don't suppose that 'ultimately defeated' is a nicer way of saying 'they all died horribly'" Maeve said.  She was not afraid of the dangers that almost certainly lay ahead, but all the same wanted to be prepared.

In reply to Maeve (msg # 26):

"I wouldn't say they all died horribly," the bard replies.

"Some of them died well, and others yet live.  In a manner of speaking.  Suffice it to say that in each instance, the party in question was rendered unable or unwilling to continue their quest.  Or talk to anyone about it ever again."

He shuffles uneasily, muttering something about "face checking".

"I have every confidence that this group shall not, in fact, spend six months lost in the treacherous forests only to have the strongest turn up empty-handed, half-starved, and dragging a wagon laden with the broken bodies of his comrades."  He scowls at this, then seems to remember his audience.  "But that ony happened twice."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:22, Thu 19 Sept 2013.

Zuriel snorts dismissively at the mention of danger.

"There is nothing that strength of arms, surety of purpose, and faith in the Goddess cannot overcome. While I do not disregard the danger, neither does it concern me unduly."

Zuriel pauses a moment, and his eyebrows raise as if a thought suddenly occurred to him.

"I am more curious as to the nature of these so-called Godstones. You mention that it does not work for holy symbols of Ignati, Cenadora, and Tyblin. Could it be that your Godstone can only measure the power of the righteous deities? And if so, perhaps the others are the rest of a set, designed to gauge the unaligned and the foul?"

Zuriel shrugs. As disconcerting as it was to think that something as sublime as the divine could be quantifiable with mere gizmos, Zuriel had to admit the Bard made an intriguing case. Though if true, the implications bordered on blasphemous.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:57, Fri 17 Jan 2014.

Noted.  Don't write on the map.

Boreas turns to Keef, a concerned look on his face.

I fear you don't know what you're getting yourself into here.  If I were you, I'd go home.  A world like this will give you plenty of opportunity for adventure.  But if you insist on coming, tell me, what is it you can do?  What have you learned so far?
This message was last edited by the player at 17:46, Thu 19 Sept 2013.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 29):

Keef screws his face up in rigid determination.  He looks down at the letter rolled up in his hand and stores it once more inside his armor.

He stands up as straight and tall as he can, carefully placing one hand on his waster and one balled fist on the table.

I may not have the training of all of you, or the stern looks, or the battle-scars... or a big weapon, but I just know that I'm destined to be a great hero.

Keef points at a map behind Baldwin.

I don't know much about the Gods, but I do know that if it weren't for them, we'd all be a lot worse off, and if they die, then probably so do we.  Loads of people have bad lives... some even worse maybe... and we should help them.  Baldwin of Blakehaven is brave and traveled and old and bold.  And if he says we can do it, and we should, then I think we can!

Keef places one foot on his chair, then thinks better of it and climbs up on it instead, nearly falling off in the process.

A hero doesn't back down when there's people in danger.  Sir Greenheart didn,t not ever.  And if we're to be heroes, we can't... well we can't back down.  Not ever!

Keef looks totally convinced that this was a very rousing speech.  He climbs down and scoops up his toad.

Sir Baldwin, Chubbs and I are in!
This message was last edited by the player at 23:40, Thu 19 Sept 2013.

Zuriel looks at the boy thoughtfully, and nods approvingly upon the conclusion of his speech.

"Your conviction is admirable, little one. If one in twenty shared your spirit, the world would be a much better place indeed. However, I would caution you that the Quest we embark upon is likely to be grueling. Even with your enthusiasm, you may not survive. Bards tell the tales of heroes gladly, but gloss over the countless others who die in obscurity struggling to achieve greatness."

The paladin looks over at Baldwin as he pauses for a moment, choosing his next words with care. His eyes, golden in the light, seem almost to shine with an inner radiance as he returns his gaze to look intently into Keef's eyes.

"Many seek fame and fortune. Few find it. If you wish to take up Baldwin's cause merely in hopes of making a name for yourself and becoming a hero, I urge you to wait a few years until you are better prepared for it. If, however, you can look at me and tell me that you truly mean what you say, that you truly want to make the world a better place even if it means your own death, then you will never again hear a word from me against your inexperience. You will have my wholehearted support."

Zuriel waits for the boy's reply, the paladin's burning gaze never leaving Keef's eyes.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 00:06, Fri 20 Sept 2013.