In reply to Finan McRoach (msg # 21):

"I've actually been much further south - over the Glaive and, Chaubrette and beyond.  Joined a mercenary company a few years ago but now i'm tired of that life and i'm returning to the clan lands in the North.  I've just recently arrived back - Glissom seems much the same, although I hear the King has taken a life of spiritual seclusion and the Steward is running things."

Guillaume leads the stranger outside the temple, and starts walking in the direction of the docks.

Hmmm... I think this guy might be on to me.  Better come clean at the tavern.

"Interesting.  I thought there was something about you beyond the ordinary.
Before we leave, I must return the robes I borrowed.  Wait for me outside."

Finan quickly visits the vestry to return his robes, and the sacristy to collect his pack.
This could be just the opportunity I need to keep.  Make some new friends and allies.  Stay alive...

As they exited there was a sudden dazzling burst of flame that roared up through a gap in the thatched roof, it was accompanied by a loud wailing from the crowd that was half exhaltation and half keen.



As he finishes up he notes that people are beginning to file out of the Temple.

In reply to GM (msg # 24):

Merde! Left just before it got interesting!  Guillaume leaps to the side, turns and looks back, trying to get a glimpse of what just happened.

"What was that?" he asks Finan.

Finan gets back to meet Fingal just as the Temple starts to empty.
"Just the Eternal Hearth Flame.  I've seen it before lots of time.  I would talk more but my throat is drying up... winks Finan.

The two men began to walk south from the Temple grounds, the majority of the worshippers drifted up slope back to their homes.

"I know this good Scrumpy House on Apple Lane, just round the corner.  Where are you staying Fingal?
It can get rough out after dark and you wouldn't want to walk too far with a skin full of cider!"

Finan kept his eyes and ears open, while pretending to be at ease.
23:23, Today: Finan McRoach rolled 14 using 2d10. Perception.

"I'm staying Dockside, I can take care of myself.  Tell me Finan, are you from the city, or are your clan lands further afield?"

Guillaume keeps walking southwards down the street, keeping a careful eye on the shadows, and also his companion.

...



The two men arrive at the small wood and daub building to find it quiet and occupied solely by a small clutch of aged men and the owner.  Apparently business has quietened since 'Finan' was last here...

" Welcome.", said the owner quietly. " Scrumpy? Cider? Or we've some mulled wine if you need warming."

OOC: Neither man observes anything more dangerous than a stray dog or two.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:19, Sat 11 Aug 2012.

"Two Scrumpies and keep 'em coming!"  Finan gives a florin to the owner and takes a seat.

"So Fingal, where did we get to?" he pauses to gulp the strong sweet apple brew.

In reply to Finan McRoach (msg # 31):

Guillaume sits opposite Finan and takes a sip of the scrumpy.

"Before we continue I must tell you something important." Guillaume leans closer to Finan, and checks that nobody is listening in.

"I am not actually Fingal McInnes, mercenary and Clansman from the north."

"Allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Guillaume De Morvan and I am the Ambassador to Glissom from Chaubrette!  Pardon my secrecy, but I 'ave an interest in your religion and it would not do for a representative of Chaubrette to be seen participating in a pagan ritual."

"Fingal McInnes, 'owever, can go places Guillaume de Morvan can not."  Guillaume grins and winks.

"You are a very observant person, I could tell that you thought there was something about my story that did not make sense."

"Perhaps now you can tell me a little of yourself?  I can see from your attire that you are a man of means, non?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:06, Mon 13 Aug 2012.

Finan smiles a thin smile of victory and supped his scrumpy.

"A pleasure to meet you.  You are wise to conceal your identity in certain circles.  Some people deeply resent the Southern Lands and the True Faith in particular.  We all have things which we would like to remain secret, and I will keep yours." takes another sup.

"You have a remarkable grasp of our tongue.  You regional accent is almost perfect, but no, you don't act like a peasant reiver.  Might I suggest a wool merchant?  They have money but are not bound by social convention.  You might avoid the same pitfalls again my friend.

I would be happy to tell you all you need to know about our religion.  I am a mendicant druid and am able to sustain a comfortable living by ministering to people across the countryside. Hand Fastings, Harvest Blessings, and other special services."

In reply to Finan McRoach (msg # 33):

Guillaume takes a sip of his cider.  "I 'ave a gift for languages, and a certain 'istory with your country.  Lets just say this isn't my first time in your cold, unforgiving land."

Guillaume leans back in his chair and strokes his chin.  "A wool merchant you say?  That would be the perfect cover... if there is something this country does not lack it is sheep."

"So you are a Druid!  I have met your Arch-Druid in a formal capacity - 'e seemed as cold and distant as yonder mountains.  I am glad to see that your Goddess' fire has warmed some of 'er flock."

Finan and Fingal drink and chat about Gliss Druidism and Chaubretton Politics until the Scrumpy kicks in.

"I had always thought I would live and die in Glissom, but now I see that I might need to travel like you.
To broarden my mind to other opportunities of course.  How might I be tolerated in the Southern lands?"

In reply to Finan McRoach (msg # 35):

"You'll be tolerated that is probably all.  If you 'ave money they might like you better.  Just don't tell them you are a Druid, the Church 'olds much power and you might get burnt as a witch."

Guillaume drains the rest of his drink and puts a Florin on the bar.  "The hour is late and I 'ave 'ad a long day.  I must retire.  If you do not 'ave somewhere to stay you are welcome to a room at my villa.  Just don't scare Old Nathan in the morning."

"You are indeed a gentleman, honest, kind, and generous.  I'd be happy to accept, lead on."
The first genuine smile crosses Finan's since Guillaume met him

In reply to Finan McRoach (msg # 37):

NEXT MORNING

The two men rose a little late and Old Nathan was already pottering about the place, he seemed little surprised to see that there was a visitor.

" I've set out pickled herring, black bread and a bit o' Cullys Red for you, gentlemen."

" I'll be off market noo."

He left them alone with their repast...

"Merci, Nathan" Guillaume says as the old man leaves.

"I hope you slept well" he says to Finan, "please, eat what you will."

Guillaume sits and eats a hearty breakfast.  It is obvious that he enjoys his food, but he looks a little hung-over.

"My 'ead is still a little foggy after last night's scrumpy.  Perhaps a little sea air would help to clear it.  What plans do you have for the day, mon ami?"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:38, Fri 17 Aug 2012.

"I am as free as a bird on the wing." Finan thinks.
"I want to remain unnoticed, and you want to understand the locals more.  Perhaps you could extend your Wool Merchant story by becoming a Merchant Venturer.  I could be your... agent in your employ?  They are so common here abouts, seeking new opportunities beyond the Shadowspin, that we would attract little attention?"

Guillaume's eyes widen. "Ha! Formidable! I do need to learn more about trade in these parts if I am to negotiate favourably for my King." He raises an eyebrow. "A Merchant Venturer you say? Per'aps you can explain more to me as we walk. I 'ave always found the merchant class to be vulgar, acting above their station as they do. But necessary nonetheless, and able to go all sorts of places without attracting attention."

Guillaume dresses in his local clothing and armour again. "I need a hat... Shall we go?"

Finan grabs his pack and cloak, following Fingal out.

"Merchant Venturers seek the prize in everything, the quick profit, the high risk gain.  They cannot rely on contacts, influence or breeding because they have none, but must make their own way in the world. I'm sure you have a word for it.  The Chaubrettons have a special word for everything!"

"That sounds ghastly, but okay." Guillaume leads the way through the streets, heading south.

"I would like to see if there are any Chaubrettan ships in port, per'aps they will 'ave news from 'ome.  By the way, why do you want to remain unnoticed?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:44, Sat 18 Aug 2012.

Finan looks deeply into Guillaumes eyes with his piercing emerald orbs.  With no humour whatever he said,
"If I told you that, I'd have to kill you.  Our secrets are now entwined my friend, like the roots of an ancient tree..."

That piercing stare again. This man is more dangerous than I thought.

"Pardon, monsieur. I shall, of course, respect your privacy."

Guillaume looks around. "Where are we?"

In reply to Guillaume De Morvan (msg # 45):

They had walked quite some way while they talked, their course had been mostly southward following one of the main throughfares and ignoring the right hand paths that led towards the West Gate and out of the city.

They found themselves in a large empty square;

A tiny chapel nestled incongruously beside the warehouse heavy with the reek of salted cod and pickled herring. Outside it was an old man dressed in an approximation of the robes of a priest of the True Faith.

He was reading through some journals on the stoop of the chapel.


...........................

Across the open square sat a group of fishermen eating rollmops, a large grey hound lay on the cobblestones outside the harbourmasters office.

........................

Large rats sifted through scraps of refuse from the pickling houses; a large convoy of carts was slowly making its way west piled with the reeking flotsam from the nearby pickling houses.

A group of women waved to them from the open windows of a small shop above the blacksmiths; a small shrine to Brigantia sat outside the smithy, it was liberally decorated with silver coins.