It is the 26th day of the Queen's Month

Exhausted as you all are, you sleep well past first light and are awoken by the sounds of axes on logs.  The crews of the logging camp have largely ignored you and gone about their day.

Having no further business with these peasants, you begin your trek northward along the road.

The chill of the night quickly subsides, almost in time with putting distance between yourselves and Ducktown, now no longer visible.  The day soon turns to warm sunshine that gives reason to remove your traveling cloaks and enjoy the progress.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:17, Tue 27 Aug 2019.

In reply to GM (msg # 1):

Titus is in an extremely good mood and as he walks he smiles and when he takes a turn to ride on Ciryl's cart or one of the horses he spends the time singing or telling stories.

I've never been so glad to have a city to make back in my life...

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 2):

For possibly the first time in your travels, the day progresses with very little of note.

You walk mostly among large trees that are spaced enough to permit visibility into all directions, with only the occasional patch of shrubs breaking up the view.

All around are the signs of life preparing for the coming winter, using this day of warmth to move about in search of food and potentially one last mating opportunity.

The path crosses a small brook that though shriveled to only a trickle now, is likely swollen and rough in the spring.

Bryce asks for many details of your exploits with Jack, especially given he has nothing of note to tell about his time apart from you.  Mostly he waited and drank, apparently.

In reply to GM (msg # 3):

"Every step," Deev notes after some walking, "is the furthest I have been from home... none of you have been this far north?  DuckTown was... well, but I've heard the people get worse."

Titus rolls his eyes and slumps dramatically back.

Say its not so Deev!  This is as far north as I've been either.

“Oh I’ve been this far north before.  Never so far east as Losthelm, but I’ve seen my share of the long plain,” Ciryl offers from his position at the reins of his cart, “Travel’s easier the more you do it.  Home’s where you’re welcome.  It’s where you make it, not just where you come from.”

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 6):

"I've not been out this way before, either," Brennan says. "But I've read about it. And I've...seen it. Parts of it, anyway."

As they walk, he pours some liquid into the cup that hangs from his belt, swirls it thoughtfully, and takes a sip.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:03, Fri 30 Aug 2019.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 7):

Bryce chuckles.

"Home's what you leave if you want to have any fun at all."

OOC: Just waiting for new player now

In reply to GM (msg # 8):

The party carries on walking and talking, the going being easy today given the weather, you stop only briefly to prepare food around midday.

You continue until the shadows of trees grow long, at which point you hear somewhere ahead the sounds of shouting and horses screaming.  Indeed, one comes bolting past you: saddled but riderless.

If you had to guess, it would be that there is battle ahead.

Ciryl slows his mule at the sounds and pulls the cart to a stop as the bolting horse comes at them, "Doesn't sound good.  Feeling up to whatever's out there after fighting a demon?" he asks the group with a calm sincerity few people use when talking about demons.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 10):

"I... no?"

In reply to Deev (msg # 11):

Brennan watches the horse bolt past, sighs, and unshoulders his bow.

"I am not about to back-track to the last fork to try an alternative route. Let's see if we can sort these bandits or raiders or whatever out. That's how we met you in the first place, you may recall."

He glances over at Cyril.

"But I'm willing to risk it anyway," he adds with a small smile.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:18, Tue 10 Sept 2019.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 12):

Titus heaves an exaggerated sigh.

Going back would slow us down more than pushing forward... C'mon lets go save the day.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 13):

The party picks up the pace, following the wide trail up an shallow incline and to the top, the sounds of combat becoming ever louder.

After a short push, you clear the top of the hill and can make out what is going on.

Two abandoned horses, decked in similar livery to that you just saw bolting, neigh and whine from the sides of a small but fierce melee between three men.

The scene about them tells the story of a fight winding down: half a dozen dead or dying, a few arrows protruding from the odd tree, and a lance nearly perpendicular in the dirt.

Two of those left standing wear heavy cloth tunics matching the horses.  One stands with lance in one hand and dagger in the other.  His companion wields a curved sword.

From a distance, the third man appeared to be an unmoving, tanned flagpole. He stands placidly and seeming unleashed among the carnage.  Were it not for the dense bluegreen aura about him, he would seem to be a lost cause.

At nearly 6 feet tall, he is barely able to see eye to eye with the men seemingly intent on his destruction. The ground shakes. Suddenly the seemingly frozen form takes life. Muscles explode with tension across his body, the ground visibly shaking in acquiescence to his will. A tan visage covered in a seemingly permanent pockmarked layer of ash covers the unknown man from head to toe, eyes of olive intensity and hair of the darkest black whirring with intensity.

The first of the attackers makes his last mistake, charging at the man, the second coming from his flank.

The rocks at his feet swirl, and a massive obsidian maul spins into existence. His swing is seemingly errant, missing the first target entirely but using its momentous weight to swing him from the oncoming charge. He lets the follow through pull him into a slide, swiping the second enemy off his feet and pulling the upswing toward the first enemy.

He flies off like a rocket, a cavernous indent where his groin had once been. The dervish, suddenly standing effortlessly above the prone second man, pauses for only a moment before simply releasing the maul from above his head, a literal crushing blow to the remaining foe. He dragged the maul across the dirt with ease, a trail of blood giving way to the rocky soil below.

The tension left his body, and the unmoving flagpole returns, the only sign of battle evident as sweat on his tightly cropped hair. Seemingly without provocation or awareness, he turns to the party.

"I do hope he didn't start that," Ciryl comments uncomfortably after the brutal display.  He looks nervously over the rest of the party, gaging how well the lot of them might fend off someone who picked a fight with a half dozen armed and mounted men and walked away unscathed.  He didn't like the odds, "Hoy there," the weathered old man calls out the the strange victor, "You uh, were you accosted by these unfortunate fellows?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:04, Tue 10 Sept 2019.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 15):

The mysterious stranger sees a short, compact, finely muscled young man leap gracefully off of his horse.  His orange aura is a bit  faded A cape of gray black and white streaming behind him.  His features are fine and handsome, hair long and jet black, his smile broad and easy.  He moves with the grace of a cat handing the reins off to one of his companions and speaking in a low tone that he cannot pickup.

Deev, go get that horse we saw running the other way.  Round up anything else that you see abandoned from these guys.

He nods at Ciryl as he steps forward.

No shit...

He steps forward from the group and assumes an open non-threatening stance raising his voice so it can be heard easily over the intervening distance.

That was an impressive display!  Name's Titus.  We were hoping to help... but seems like you got things sorted yourself.  Anyone else around?  Anyone traveling with you?

He claps for emphasis to demonstrate his appreciation.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:53, Tue 10 Sept 2019.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 16):

Deev just blinks.

In reply to Deev (msg # 17):

Looking around quickly, the total tally of dead is ten.

4 with matched livery to the two abandoned horses, 6 without livery.

In reply to GM (msg # 18):

With an effortless swing, the man twirls the massive maul and straps it across his back. Whoever he is, he's clearly had training, and his first instinct toward the party is one of de-escalation.

Ah. This must be the group I felt on the horizon when my battle started. What a pleasant surprise to not have to fight them off as well.

Yet.

The man looks the party up and down, eyeing them with an unsettling criticality. A moment of surprise flashes across his face, and vanishes back into a sea of placid neutrality as quickly as it emerged.

But they aren't children of the Earth, and yet.. they radiate with power too. Perhaps I am not the only one after all. Best to see who they are, and what their intentions may be.

The man holds his position, the posture of his body showing an easy confidence were things to turn, but the tone of his voice, a surprising baritone, portrays no hint of provacation.

Well met Sir Titus- my name is Zeke. My mercenary company.. he gestures with his hand at the unmatched dead, were ambushed by the scouts you see at my feet. I was hunting for our breakfast when the trap was sprung, and was too far away to intervene and save the company. Fortunately for the next group passing through, I was just in time to ensure that no others would befall their fate.

What brings you this far from civilization?

His stance shifts almost imperceptibly at the hostile question. He hasn't made a move, but he's made it clear he knows he may have to based on your answer.

If this morning's hunt was any indication, it can't be the food.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 19):

Brennan returns the arrow nocked in his bow to its quiver, but does not go so far as to shoulder the bow itself as he considers the scene before him.

His eyes rest on the livery for a moment, scanning them as if to tuck the information away for later before they come to rest on the man before them.


The lone survivor of any fight can tell any tale they want about how it happened and who the belligerents were, he muses silently.

"It's not the food," Brennan agrees aloud. His face holds a smile his eyes do not share. "We want no trouble. We're bound for Losthelm and have already been significantly delayed."

He relaxes his stance slightly and gestures to the scattered bodies.

"I am Brennan. Titus and I were once mercenaries ourselves, though that seems a lifetime ago now," he says gently. "My companions and I are among the Chosen, as you've no doubt noticed. As are you. Were any of your companions—or assailants, for that matter—likewise marked by the First Men? I do not mean to be callous, but if they were, we must act quickly to prevent their gifts from falling into the wrong hands."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:00, Tue 10 Sept 2019.

"Ciryl Fontaine," The weathered-looking man on the cart intones after Brennan's partial introduction, "purveyor of medical miracles for the modern day," he gives Zeke a polite nod from his position still atop his cart. "That is Deev, and Bryce," he points to each of the other members of their company in turn, "We aren't nearly as self-important as those two."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 20):

Chosen? Marked by the first men? Clearly they know more of my current situation than I do. Best to play dumb and humble and see what I can learn.

Marked by the First Men? Chosen? I know not the terms you use Sir Brennan, but I acknowledge that I see the aura emanating from your body. Truth to be told, the three of you are the first I have encountered who share my.. distinction. I had begun to believe myself the only one..

Zeke turns to address Ciryl, a small smirk curling it's way into a half smile. He's clearly more attuned to the lack of pomp offered by the self proclaimed Miracle man.

Always be mindful of those who lead with humility- they know true strength.

It's been a while since I've heard anyone happy enough to crack a joke. Thanks. I needed that after the disappointment of the evening.

He opens his pack and reveals a series of wrapped and cleaned filets. They appear to be from a boar, and they are most definitely fresh.

Never met a former merc who could turn down a free meal..

A solemn look takes up residence on Zeke's face.

My company was also bound for Losthelm, seeking new opportunities in the far flung places where men such as this.. unfortunately prosper.

While I wish I could say this carnage had stolen my appetite, it seems rude to lie to fellow travelers. Would you care to share the evening meal? I had enough for 6, and..

He makes a show of pointing to each of them and counting.

It seems that remains the magic number. As you said Ciryl.. Miracles of the Modern Day. Come and join me, and we can divine the mystery of our encounter here and now.

Besides, we can't properly tend to the dead on an empty stomach; it's just disrespectful.

Temptation of food, and an offering of faith. The hook is set. Will they bite?

Zeke turns his back to the party in a clear gesture of good will and begins making preparations for a fire.


OOC: For those who can see auras, Zeke radiates blue-green. Sorry- forgot to include in his original description. Putting it here for the current "bump".

Ooc2- updated to reflect time of day. Thanks Ciryl


This message was last edited by the player at 00:13, Wed 11 Sept 2019.

"Not as much of a joke as I might like," Ciryl replies to Zeke with his own small grin.  At the offer of food he shrugs and pulls his cart off to the side of the road before very ponderously climbing his way off.  The reason for his slow descent becomes more evident as he pulls a cane off of his seat and walks around to the back of his cart with a slow limp, "This fellow makes strong points, all.  Never snub your nose at a reasonable man on the road, they are much too far apart in my experience." His cane suddenly sticks out from behind the cart and waggles furiously in the air, "But!  They say there are no free meals!" his tone is sharp and cautionary.

After a moment and some noise from inside the cart Ciryl hobbles back into view holding a cheap looking jug which he waggles with a smile, "So how about we trade you a drink for it?  It's not good beer, but... well, it is beer.  I think."

((GM got you covered on the aura.  Also I think we're nearing evening.))

Zeke looks over his shoulder, an uncontained grin in full residence.

I cannot remember the last time I had anything that isnt more accurately described as yak piss. Ciryl, this may well be the start of a beautiful friendship.

And perhaps loosened lips will tell me more of these strange men..

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 24):

At the mention of his companions Titus' face turns down in a slight frown.

I'm sorry for the loss of your men.

When conversation turns to dinner Titus looks at the filets with obvious avarice.

Yes... We have some store of provisions, I say we make a meal of it!  Though lets make camp a bit further down, a battle site is no place to sleep for the evening.

When Titus turns around and sees Deev he sighs, exasperated.

Damnitall...

Zeke, I'm going to go grab that horse we saw running down the road, do you have any need or desire for the items that are left by battle?  I have found things like livery, armor, livestock and weapons to be... most useful.

This being your battle and your comrades I am certainly willing to scavenge anything you are not interested in.

He leaps into his saddle with a flourish, indicating extreme athletic prowess and body control.

On my return I'll help set up camp.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 25):

The two horses remaining at the scene of battle calm down some.  They aren't particularly fond of you yet, but don't seem to want to run and don't mind being corralled and staked with your own animals.

The one who bolted is long gone.  Unless you intend to run it down on your own horse, it cannot be recovered easily.

In reply to GM (msg # 26):

Opting not to get the horse Titus busies himself setting up camp and cleaning up the battle site.  He is fast and proficient at both setting up the camp and cooking.  As he works he smiles and laughs easily with the team keeping up a stream of tales and stories that are more or less familiar to the team at this point.  Stories of witches and birds, enchanting princesses, and demons.

For those of you who were there in the stories they are all, of course, imbellished and gilded around the edges but you recognize the broad strokes of the source material.

For Zeke he hears familiar story tropes interwoven with new characters, situations and strange happenings.  Some of these tales are attributed to a man named 'Lord Fastbender' others to various members of the team and some to unknown protagonists.

As a mercenary I'm sure Zeke has heard his share storytellers and wandering minstrels before... Titus may be the best he has ever heard.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 25):

Interesting. They defer to me for rights to the goods of the dead. And he claims to be a former mercenary? The only claim of ownership anyone has is the will and ability to defend what's theirs. He should know that.


While his words would prove to be callous, the look on his face was as matter of fact as though he were about to tell Titus the sky was blue.

You know as well as I the mercenary code, Titus. Personal effects of religious and clearly familiar nature are to be buried with the bodies, granting the same dignity we all hope for when we meet our makers. Instruments of war and survival pass to those strong enough to take them, as they did for my former comrades.

Zeke allows himself to be regaled by stories from Titus as he sets about assembling burial mounds for the 6 slain mercenaries. He makes no such gesture to preserve the scouts who made the mistake of crossing his path.

He's a talker, but I have to admit, he's a hell of a story teller. I wonder if he's heard any of the legends of the Mkwynn? Perhaps time will tell, but this bond is far too fresh to give any insight into such a deep and personal secret.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 28):

Titus smiles and makes a dismissive gesture as he talks of the mercenary code.

Bah, the code.  You've lost three of your band... you have had a hard enough day without having to fight us like dogs fighting in an alley over scraps... besides as Brennan has said there is a bond between us; and fighting over leftovers is counterproductive...  We are friends not rivals.

Titus assists in creating the burial mounds and attempting to ensure that his company receives proper rights.  He then gets to looting the bodies of the scouts.  He freely gives any money he finds to Zeke.

Consider this blood money from their master.  Do you have any idea whose livery this is?  Or why they are here?

He beckons Brennan over.

You'er as close to a holy man as we have want to say some words for the fallen?

/ooc: What do we gather up?
This message was last edited by the player at 15:24, Wed 11 Sept 2019.

Ciryl's offered beer proves to be soupy and not, in fact, good.  He lets Titus tell stories and has a laugh or shout where appropriate, but spends most of the meal simply observing the other five men as he eats and being conversational only if someone else starts it.  When it comes time to deal with the bodies he waits for Titus to finish looting them before laying them out on the side of the road with no small effort on his part and mumbling something about the next dream over their still forms while the other six are treated to more proper ceremony.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 29):

Who is this former mercenary that does not recognize the sigil of the Rebel "King" in the North?

Aye, these are scouts from Xander's army. They attacked my company and me believing us to be "Southron Spies". As you can see from my fallen company, they were not interested in a dialogue.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 31):

When Titus sees Ciryl struggling he will offer a helping hand.

As Zeke mentions the rebel king in the North Titus nods sagely.

Then I am very glad to have these.  This is as far North as I've ever been, its... different.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 32):

It is no trouble gathering up the equipment and goods of the fallen.  Digging holes and burying takes considerably more time, such that when you are done, it is well past nightfall.

The dead Scouts have little of much interest.  Their weapons and a few basic provisions as well as a handful of coin between them.

OOC: I have added the goods to your Company Supplies in forums

In reply to GM (msg # 33):

Deev falls to and helps Titus with the cooking and organizing of goods.

He keeps his distance from Zeke, and doesn't speak much.

In reply to Deev (msg # 34):

Bryce, on the other hand, is warm and loud.

"Both new company and bloody work warrant celebration.  I'll open one of the firkins we've been lugging ta... ammend friend Ciryl's offering."

"New stories," he adds toward Zeke as he fetches the keg, "are also warranted I suspect.  What stories do you have of the North?"

In reply to GM (msg # 35):

Zeke sits around a now assembled camp fire, a series of jet black rocks of all shapes and sizes encircling him. What their purpose is, he does not say.

While I am not from these parts, mercenaries tell tales no different than sailors or housewives. Have you heard the tale of Lord Fastbender?

Zeke, as matter of fact as telling you his name, tells a tale of a former reaver of the North named Lord Fastbender, a man whose cruelty was exceeded only by his infamous panache- traveling with a band of bards to inform towns of their oncoming doom.

He finishes the tale as uneventfully as it began, and returns to the arrangement of his rocks.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 36):

Titus sits forward anxious as a child as the story is told smiling a private grin to himself.

Fascinating...

He muses after Zeke's story.

He idly tunes his lute, belly full and smiling like the proverbial cat with the canary.

So Zeke, you were heading to Losthelm as are we, and you were looking for work in the area.  Our quest...

He looks to Brennan and cocks an eyebrow in inquisition.

Is of primary importance to the chosen.

He smiles easily and arranges himself to be comfortable.

Just to be clear, I know Brennan likes to act like Chosen is the accepted nomenclature throughout the land, but that means those of us with auras.

...as you can tell I'm a bit of a storyteller and, if its not too bold may I ask when your aura appeared and what, if anything was happening to you.  I'm hoping to put together of what happened, why and how.

/ooc did Zeke put the rocks there?  Are the floating or doing anything strange?  Did they crawl up from the ground?

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 37):

Brennan has little to add when it comes to the telling of stories, though he does assist with making camp and paying respects to the dead.

"We've run into the Xander's men before, but that was before our recent adventures. You'll have to forgive Titus's recollection," he notes when there is a lull in the conversation. "We are, as yet, rather unknown to them. I would prefer to keep it that way, so as to ease our passage to Losthelm. Did any escape?"

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 38):

Zeke listens with intent to the clearly well meaning interrogation from Titus, and the far more pointed and strategic inquiry from Brennan.

Such a diverse group of personality and sensibilities. There's an undeniable strength in drawing from the wisdom of others. Such is the Mkwynn way.

But are others Chosen? How? Why? This was my birthright. Am I Chosen.. or was I made?

With an absent minded precision, Zeke begins rearranging the rocks in a tight circle around himself, with the tallest at the four compass points. He crosses his legs, and exhales, with the closest thing you've seen to an emotion crossing his face.

Curiosity?

He turns to Brennan.

He'll want to know he's safe. He seems to.. need to know. Can he not defend himself?

Master Brennan, while I cannot speak with full knowledge of the group's numbers prior to my arrival, I can state with certainty that all that walked before me are now at rest. Your secret, it would seem, remains safe.

For now.

Master Titus, you inquire of the most personal of secrets with the least of discretion, and yet somehow in this recklessness is an undeniable valor that I concede puts me at ease. But I suspect you've had that effect on people for quite some time.


In a clearly autonomous motion, the rocks are gathered, and Zeke stands. He begins pacing a circle around the camp fire, placing them in a similar compass rose, but encircling the entire party before sitting down next to Titus and.. clinking his beer horn.

Why am I so want to trust this man? He seems a fool, and yet.. I think I need him.

I know not of what you speak of chosen and auras Masters, as I said before, yours are the first I had seen besides my own. I have always been somewhat gifted in sense and strength, perhaps owing to my upbringing as an Orphan. I've had to fight for much of what I've had if I have any hope of recovering what I've lost.


Zeke tilts his head toward Ciryl and takes a deep swig from his jet-black stein, a perfect mirror for his pocket rocks.

I was traveling north to rendezvous with my now departed company, and was making camp for the night, just as we are now, surrounded by earth, and oriented toward.. home. As I lay among the rocks, I suddenly could feel.. everything around me. I've always been attuned to my surroundings- any good mercenary is, but I could sense everything. It was overwhelming, and as I went to cover my ears and eyes, my shock was only accentuated to see, well, my aura.

From that night on, I've carried and arranged the rocks always, and I've been one with the world, and I thought, the only.

Tell me Masters, what is this Chosen you speak of, and how have you come to understand our mutual bond?

And what will you tell me of your own secrets?

"Honestly I'm in the same boat as you." Ciryl chimes in once Zeke addresses the group, "Woke up one day glowing purple, when no one else saw it thought maybe I'd gotten something in my drink or food, but when it didn't go away I thought I was mad until I came across this lot a few days ago."

Ciryl nods his chin toward Brennan, "He thinks we're chosen by the First Men and he's their prophet or somesuch.  While he thinks," Ciryl gestures to Titus but as he turns to look at the man he stops himself short and just sighs, "Well he's got more ideas than sense, I'll tell you that much.  I'm still not sure what I make of their stories, and wouldn't think to tell you what to believe when it comes to this strangeness, but Brennan says there are answers in Losthelm.  That's why I'm sticking with them. If I can see something and figure it for myself instead of just being told what's what by strangers I'll like it much better."

He huffs through his nose and prods the fire gently before looking up with raised eyebrows at Bryce, the one member of the company without an aura, "You should ask him what he thinks of it all.  The only one of us  you can be sure has nothing to convince you of."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:37, Fri 13 Sept 2019.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 40):

Zeke listens intently while Ciryl shares his story.

And it would seem, you've got both sense and ideas. One can never be too careful when zealotry is involved.

I share your perspective Master Ciryl; seeing is always believing.

Zeke turns to the magically nude Bryce.

And how is it you came to be with this group? What is it you believe to be going on?

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 41):

As Zeke talks to Titus he notices that Titus' eyes bore into him in a calculating manner.  If he is a fool he is clearly playing the part.  But a true emotion escapes when Zeke mentions being an orphan.  It was a flicker of empathy and brotherhood.  When he sits next to Titus he nudges him with a shoulder in a true sign of affection.

The good natured smile never leaves Titus' face.  When Ciryl digs at him sticks his tongue out at him while laughing to indicate he did not appreciate the gesture, but he is also not wrong.

You and are a different sides of the same coin.  I was always gifted, physically and, as you have already alluded to with the silver tongue of my people.  I'm a Mihnoan you see... we live primarily as traveling performers in the south.

I'm sorry for the loss of your family... I lost my entire troupe, suddenly and violently. Hopefully we can help each other recover what was lost or taken from us.

As you can see we are very different in our goals, our attitudes our beliefs, and our abilities.  However, we are united in this.  He indicates the aura.

There is strength in numbers and I have found the others who are not of the chosen are more likely to hinder than help.  They fear us and what we are capable of.

You are under no compulsion to travel with us, however, I believe Brennan when he says there is something important there and it applies to all of us.

He cedes the floor to Bryce

Present company excluded... of course.  The floor is yours guv'na. 
This message was last edited by the player at 12:56, Fri 13 Sept 2019.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 42):

"If being cursed with knowledge makes me a prophet, I am guilty of the same. I have seen people become Chosen," Brennan says quietly. "I've also seen Chosen lose their way, and with it, their gifts."

He stares into the fire briefly.

"Losthelm is a place touched by the Triune Dream. Angelic, Demonic, and Human interests align and intersect there. It is difficult to overstate the importance of reaching it soon."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 43):

Bryce chuckles.

"I don't know about any of that, but I DO know there's a lot can be learned in this world that doesn't want to be learned, and when you find a chance to peek behind the veil, you have to seize it."

He narrows his eyes, carefully studying Zeke's reaction to this.

"I may not know what's going on, but I've seen these men do things I didn't think possible, and I know a thing or two about the other Dreams.  You want the reason I'm here?  Curiosity."

In reply to GM (msg # 44):

Titus smiles at Bryces explanation clinks his glass against Zeke's

To curiosity and all the cats that it has killed!  As pure, honest, and reliable a motivator as there ever was.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 45):

Zeke listens intently to the responses of the group, but is clearly struck most by Bryce's candor.

There is a beauty in his honesty, and more than the others, it his raison d'etre that resonates most strongly.

Zeke turns to the group. His face betrays none of the significance his words are about to convey.

There is a saying nearly lost to the sands of time, that has defined all of my actions and leaps to the center of my mind:

From fire we are forged and from earth we are born and travel, with only the direction of our steps and our reaction to their ripples our own.

I have always believed that we find ourselves in the exact place and moment we are meant to be, even if we do not know how or why. Your earth has crossed with mine, at a time when questions abound and mysteries young and old amplify beneath my feet. I am where I was meant to be, and I believe you are too. While I do not know what our futures hold or why we have crossed, I will heed the wisdom old in times anew. If you will have me, I would walk with you.

And know more of why you believe we are Chosen, and how I may use it to once again reclaim my honor.

Zeke returns to his seat and his rocks, the placid look on his face conveying none of the magnitude of his speech moments prior.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 46):

I like that phrase, I'll have to bring it back...

Titus looks to the group, if there are no objection he finishes

Then its settled.  Come along with us and lets unwrap our mysteries together. 

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 47):

Zeke nods his assent before placing a series of brilliantly colored and awkwardly shaped scoria around his bed roll.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 48):

Titus sits first watch allowing others to sleep as he prowls around.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 49):

Deev says little, firelight shining on eyes laser focused on Zeke.

In reply to Deev (msg # 50):

Titus hums an ancient tune as old as time itself.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 51):

Deev and Titus chat while making preparations to sleep (tying up and feeding horses, securing fire, packing up belongings, laying out bedrolls, digging a sump pit and latrine, and lots of other things adventure games normally don't bother you about).

In reply to Deev (msg # 52):

Titus finishes up the prep work and puts a reassuring arm around Deev.

No need to bother yourself with the last of the prep work.  Get some sleep, I'll take this watch.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 53):

Brennan agrees to take his turn at the watch, whenever that may be, and sleeps his fill aside from that.

Ciryl climbs into the back of his cart to rest for the night.  If woken to keep watch he grumbles about what kind of security an unarmed cripple might offer against the terrors in the night.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 55):

The kind that can scream loudly.

Titus says before bedding down.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 56):

The party takes turns at watch, but nothing of note transpires in the dark.  The wolves you had grown accustomed to seem not to be in range, and being in the forest, your only company are a few bats overhead and the chirp of crickets.

It is the 27th day of the Queen's Month

The day begins off dark, thin grey clouds visible between gaps in the trees above.  The air feels stale somehow, unmoving, as if the sky were waiting for something to begin.

You break your fast after packing your belongings and are ready to make your way further north.

In reply to GM (msg # 57):

By the time the party has awakened, Zeke has collected his rocks and his bag is neatly packed. A cursory view of the area he laid down shows absolutely no sign of disturbance and suggests he did not move a muscle in his sleep.

Not one of them came within 3 feet of my perimeter. Perhaps they are trustworthy

The day is young and we are forever growing old. Come. Let us make haste onward, and see what secrets and mysteries the great North holds for us.

And what dangers..

Ciryl calls for Deev to return his leg from where it landed after he woke the next watch in the night and reattaches it before climbing out of his cart.  After breaking camp and a morning meal he climbs back into the driver's seat of his cart, "Aye, nothing earned sitting around in the wilds," he agrees to Zeke's invitation to get moving, "So are we going to Losthelm proper, or somewhere in the area?" he asks Brennan as he hitches his mule to get moving, "It'd be good to know exactly how much longer we have to go."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 59):

Brennan awakens early and performs his usual meditations prior to helping break down the camp. His expression appears both thoughtful and troubled afterward.

"The Inquisition has slowed," he announces. "But it has not stopped. They are coordinating their efforts in light of...recent developments. We mustn't tarry."

"We must visit the ruins themselves, at least at first," Brennan replies when asked of Losthelm. "After that, much will depend on their condition and whether there are other pilgrims present."

He spends the first portion of the morning's journey with his nose tucked into a pair of journals. Those who care to learn more will note that he is comparing what appear to be the scrawlings of a madman on one side to the cleaner charcoal lines of the other. From time to time, he withdraws a stone from his belt pouch, glances at it thoughtfully, and replaces it. He also drinks from the cup that hangs from his belt on occasion, and discerning eyes will see him murmuring to himself whenever he does so.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:36, Mon 23 Sept 2019.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 60):

You continue to follow the forest trail for the better part of the morning.  The grey air refuses to show any signs of lightening, casting a hazy light about you that generates no shadows and serves to blend together the view in every direction.

Finally you see a break ahead, and the path begins to widen as you approach.

You have reached the southern part of the great lake that lies between Long Plain and Losthelm (OOC: visible in the Game Map).  There the road splits, part going along the western shore of the great lake toward Losthelm, the other part skirts about the lake to the East and you can see that it will twist up into the mountains.

The decision of which way to travel may needs be delayed for a moment, however, as right smack in the middle of the intersection is a wide building made of felled timbers.  It has a flat open roof on which you see a pair of armed men standing about a large metal bowl, likely some sort of signal fire.  Flags adorning the sides of the building are the heraldry of the traitor King Xander.

You are able to stop well out of range for any sort of identification should you wish to avoid being seen.

In reply to GM (msg # 61):

More advanced scouts. Is this an outer marker station to indicate an oncoming hostile presence?

We should avoid detection if possible. It seems Master Brennan has cause to seek answers in the ruins. Is there a way for us to take the proverbial long way around?

One must always be ready to fight, but only when necessary. This will be a test of the thirst and levelheadedness of this group.

Let us hope they pass.

"We haven't done anything, and we've no interest in the war.  If you let me do the talking we shouldn't have any trouble.  Just try not to look too southern.  The lot of you," Ciryl replies to Zeke's caution in a level tone. "Both ways around are long and I'd rather not drag my cart all across the wilderness, or across the lake for that matter."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 63):

If the ways around are long then we are best to fly under the radar.  I could certainly help disguise us as a traveling troupe of some kind.  Ciryl how would we be related to you?  What would be our cover story.  Since I seem to out myself as a southron every damn time I open my mouth...

"Then don't open your mouth," Ciryl replies pointedly, "We tell them you're all mercenaries, I'm a merchant and I don't want to get robbed on the road.  I'm just going to tell them that in a northern accent."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 65):

"That even had the benefit of being partially true," Brennan nods in agreement. "We were once mercenaries ourselves. But we need to be on the same page about what happens if they order us to turn around or deny us further access to the ruins..."

He frowns slightly.

"A pity we did not think to take the clothing of the scouts in the clearing."

"In any case, if it comes down to it, we can overpower them, perhaps, but not without risking the signal fire being lit. Better I think to turn tail and attempt a more stealthy approach in that case. Are we agreed?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:38, Wed 25 Sept 2019.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 66):

Zeke sighs heavily, resigned to the combat to come.

A chance for no confrontation, and we elect for deception with a likelihood of bloodshed.

Zeke whips his maul to the fore, placing the head at his feet and holding the hilt with both hands, a menacing fixture of potential violence interspersed with a frustratingly placid expression.

I guess I'll be the strong silent type..

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 67):

YOU didn't think of it.

Titus says brandishing clothing with a cat that ate the canary grin.

This change anything?  Zeke you got a better idea?  He asks in response to the sigh.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:40, Wed 25 Sept 2019.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 68):

I say that we dress up, wave at them and walk right past.  If they ask us we are accompanying a medicine man to Losthelm, for the cause.

“What?  No! ” Ciryl is immediately indignant at Titus’s suggestion, “What if they know the scouting party?  They’ll know you aren’t them at a glance.  And then they’ll know you stole their clothes.  Would you stop trying to complicate this, it’s a waypoint on the road, not a closed gate.  I’m one of the people Xander is ostensibly trying to rule over.  All we need is for the lot of you to not act like suspicious invaders.”

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 69):

The deception improves. This plan still has risk, but.. it has merits as well.

Zeke reaches toward Titus outstretched hand and grabs one of the "lightly damaged" guard uniforms and begins donning it. He responds matter-of-factly:

Master Titus- I do not.

Zeke describes in detail to Titus the nature of his company, where and when the ambush took place, and leaves the reasons for not reporting back or looking different than usual to those with more verbal flare.

My life in the hands of a quixotic bard. These have truly been an interesting 24 hours..

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 71):

Zeke, fully nude and stepping his legs into the livery of the unfortunate soldier, pauses to eye the unaligned party dubiously.

He crosses his hands and lets the livery fall as if to say, "What are we doing?"

Just swinging in the wind..
This message was last edited by the player at 15:47, Wed 25 Sept 2019.

"Look, those are most likely here to keep watch for the enemy," Ciryl looks at Zeke, "You said the party that attacked you accused you of being Southron spies, right?  Do any of you know anything about Xander's army?  If those men ask any questions are you certain you can convince them you're northern soldiers and not southerners wearing stolen uniforms?  Because if they think you're the latter they will try to kill us all, that's their job.  However, if we just act like travelers, all we will have to convince them of is that we aren't serving the southern king, which is true, and didn't kill the men who used to own those two horses, which is true of most of us.  I'm telling you, bigger lies are just bigger trouble."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 73):

"If you're certain you can persuade them, I'm in favor of your plan," Brennan nods at Cyril.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 74):

Titus casts an eye over the naked Zeke and smiles while stifling a giggle.

As much as I appreciate the show and the enthusiasm... you might wanna get dressed.  To tell the truth when possible better to be forgettable than memorable in this situation. 

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 75):

Zeke shrugs casually and begins putting his original outfit back on.

At least they know I'm not hiding anything..

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 76):

Titus helps Zeke put clothes back on and strategically smudges mud on his face and dirties up their clothes some to make them bedraggled looking and as nondescript as possible.  He also takes some pains to hide his and Brennan's weapons.  Zeke playing the part as the merc protecting the group can have his out in full sight.

Let's just go ahead waltz right in under their noses.  We've done nothing wrong and they have no need to look for us.  The best lies are closest to the truth.  Though at some point we will definitely need that livery.

This message was last edited by the player at 12:34, Wed 02 Oct 2019.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 77):

Zeke, already a rather muddied looking character due to his ashen birthmarkings, tries not to laugh at the extraordinary amount of work Titus puts into making him ordinary, and how much he's begrudgingly enjoying Titus's touch.

He has remarkably soft hands..

I think I'll let you do the talking..

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 77):

Zeke, already a rather muddied looking character due to his ashen birthmarkings, tries not to laugh at the extraordinary amount of work Titus puts into making him ordinary, and how much he's begrudgingly enjoying Titus's touch.

He has remarkably soft hands..

I think I'll let you do the talking..

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 78):

He smiles at Zeke warmly

This one is Ciryl's show.  He's the right messenger.  Casting is an art making sure the right person is saying the right things at the right time.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:38, Wed 02 Oct 2019.

Ciryl rolls his eyes at Titus's extraordinary measures but doesn't say anything, just hitching his mule to continue toward the outpost at a leisurely pace.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 80):

Zeke nods gruffly, puzzled again by the pampering from Titus

Let's get on with it then. We've got a ways to go if we want shelter before the nightfall and the cold.

To say nothing of tending to potential wounds..

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 82):

At some point when you aren't looking, the Deev you know vanishes, replaced by an older woman of similar build and a cracked wizened face.

"Just in case..." the woman says gruffly as she climbs up onto Ciryl's cart to ride just behind him.

In reply to Deev (msg # 83):

Thus prepared to be innocuous as possible, the group continues forward at no particular rush.

In a few moments you are close enough to the low fort to be in hollaring distance.

"Ho there!" one of the guards calls down, leaning over the railing.  "What news travelers?"

His accent is distinctly northern and not particularly unfriendly.

"Hail!" Ciryl calls back to the man over the rail, "Some strangeness in Ducktown, up the road.  They say the Inquisition's been called.  Mayhap bandits along the road as well, or else fierce beasts in the woods; we passed by some unfortunate souls bent for another dream on our way.  My companions here thought they seemed recent so we didn't linger too long, for fear we might join them.  We're headed to Losthelm.  Any news from the north?"  He keeps his voice casual, as if the soldier was anyone along the road simply making small talk.  He does lean into his own accent a bit more than the others have heard in the time they've known him.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 85):

Brennan says nothing, content to let Cyril do the talking for the time being. His eyes do, however, drink in the images of the fort and the soldiers as if filing that knowledge away for future use.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 86):

Titus hunches over buried under a pile of rags and backpacks, allowing Cyril to deal with the communication.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 87):

"Inquisitor eh?" the guard scoffs back, spitting overtly on the ground beside him.  "The fuck those zealots think they're playing at these days?  Tell ya what, we see another of those, we'll cut his fuckin' legs off!

Ye say there's some dead on the road?  Whozzat they look like?  Big herd of prisoners came through here not long ago led by Xander's finest.  Like as not were some of them dead you saw?"

The other guard comes over, apparently interested in what's being said.

"Lake's been quiet of late, Xander's occupied with the old King's men to the west.  Heard he's got reinforcements from the badlands, berzerkers fresh done with being ruled."

He chews at something in his mouth for a moment.

"An were a rumor even the Ogres are thinking of joining the rebellion.  You imagine that?"

In reply to GM (msg # 88):

Zeke stands with a cautious indifference as the banter continues between the party and the guards.

Best not to speak and let them know where I'm from.

"Didn't pay too close attention to the dead, but as I said, they seemed recent.  I don't know how long ago the prisoners were marched through, but this one," Ciryl gestures at Brennan, "Is the closest thing to a woodsman our little band has, and he was eager to keep moving.  Maybe they were prisoners, as you said, and it was just recently some animals came upon them," he shrugs, "All the same, it's good to be out of the woods.  I'll take it as good news the lake's quiet; already too much nonsense in the last few days travel.  I could stand for quiet and water over zealots one way and bodies t'other, I'll tell you that much.  Berzerkers in the army?  If they're done being ruled I just hope they're still willing to follow orders.  Hate to think we throw off the old king just to invite savages in to raid or lands.  I have to admit, I would like to see the faces of the old king's men if Ogres really do march on them under Xander's banner.  Would be quite a sight to behold, I'm sure.

Ciryl gives a dry chuckle and a slight shake of his head before looking up the road, "Well, we've a long and hopefully boring journey, should be on our way.  Thank you for the news!"  If the soldiers make no objection he hitches his mule to have the party carry forward, giving a friendly wave to the outpost.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:15, Tue 08 Oct 2019.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 90):

"Aye, best get moving 'fore the frost sets for winter," the soldier agrees, waving you on.

The road splits before the fort, and follows the great lake around in either direction.  You shall have to choose whether to take the road to the east or the west.

OOC: Look at the Game Map, the lake in question is the big blue thing just south of Losthelm

The road to the west will keep closer to civilization and will be an easier, though longer, journey.

The road to the east skirts along (and up into) the mountains a bit.  It is shorter, but much harder going, though it will be further from towns.

Both will take you to Losthelm.

In reply to GM (msg # 91):

Titus walks next to Ciryls cart as they begin to head west.  He speaks quietly to Brennan as they walk.

I would rest easy, it seems the inquisition will have to find it difficult to penetrate to our final destination.  Unless they have roads unknown to us... Or can fly.

He shoots him a worried look

They can't fly can they?  Because if thats the case cutting off their legs won't have the desired effect...

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 92):

As the fort recedes into the distance and ultimately parts ways over the horizon, Zeke transitions back into his own clothes.

Special like me and creative problem solvers? Such people are want to cause as much trouble as they are to resolve it. And yet, I can't help but feel fortunate to be walking down this path with them. Suddenly, it feels like I might have.. direction. But I cannot let my guard down, and reveal my true purpose

Zeke ambles along with the group, sharing in listening to Titus's many stories, and playing the parts of shock, awe, and laughter when required. He'd always been adept at blending into a group, and the brief journey so far had proved no exception.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 93):

"They cannot fly," Brennan assures Titus with a smile. "Thought they can ride like the wind when they want to."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 94):

The road west widens out once you pass the fort, allowing for yourselves and the numerous locals to pass and move easily.

The road is hard packed, and clean, indicating that the company of hostages you were following must have been diverted East through the mountains instead of West as you are traveling.

The road remains near the great lake, and is dotted all along with low cottages made of logs and daub that extend into the water to allow mooring of numerous small fishing boats.  Most of these are out on the lake at this time, but you pass a few who have already finished and are using great communal smokehouses to preserve their catches for transport or for the coming winter.

On the other side of the road and long furrowed fields.  They are dormant now, their crop long since harvested and given over now to numerous crows looking for scraps.

Although the road is well used and traveled, few pay much attention to you.  Inquiring politely, you learn there is an inn that you could reach before nightfall.  The other options would be to seek shelter with a farmer, or to camp off the road somewhere.

In reply to GM (msg # 95):

I'm all for an inn.  We can do the normal traveling minstrel routine, generally I can get us free room and board among other things.

Titus spends the day scrutinizing the people they cross and speaking with them.

"Aye, an inn would be nicer than another night in the back of my cart,"  Ciryl agrees as they continue down the quiet road, glad for some shade of normalcy to return to his travels.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 97):

In a surprising display of emotion from the man you're coming to know, Zeke is emphatic in his excitement and concurrence.

I can't remember the last time I slept on a proper bed, or had a real roof over my head. I think I'd like that very much.

Zeke turns to Titus, a coy smile and an exasperated sigh his weapons of choice:

In for an inn? Just awful.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 98):

Titus flashes a dazzling smile with a wink.

Puns, are the lowest form of comedy... but also the bedrock on which other... more elegant comedic tellings are based.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 99):

Puns about the earth? My this one is much more perceptive than he lets on.


Zeke spends the uneventful voyage listening to the stories of the group and silently, seemingly involuntarily arranging and rearranging his stones. What their purpose is, you cannot say, but the look of absolute conviction and placidity on his face as he does so communicates more than his words to you ever have.

You're also pleasantly surprised to learn that Zeke possesses no small alacrity for hunting, and is able on multiple occasions during the brief day to identify the presence of small game and successfully catch multiple rabbits and even a duck near the lake.

I've been living a life on and of the land for a while, a direct and somewhat bashful Zeke replies to Titus's inquiries. It has to have some benefits I can share with newfound friends.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 100):

As expected, you reach the inn before the sun sinks too low in the sky.  The fishing boats have largely returned by then as well, increasing foot traffic somewhat.

The inn is a large building built on the bones of a ruined stone fort of some kind, though only a partial wall remains of this former glory.  Timbers have been laid about it to extend the structure large enough, you presume, to contain both a great hall, a large kitchen, and several smaller rooms on the sides where the roof is lower.

Wide windows covered in translucent oiled skins allow soft glow from within.  It extends out onto a dock, and numerous men mingle there, dangling their legs above the water as they smoke, drink, and talk.

The painted sign above the heavy door, which looks to have been taken from a different building, is an ugly black bird alit on a pint mug.

A grubby boy offers to stable your horses for a few coins, and feed them for a few more.

You enter, greeted immediately by the calm chatter of locals eating and sharing the day's news.  The place is filled with smoke from the fires as well as multiple pipes, though somehow the stench of raw fish overpowers everything else.  There are two fireplaces at either side of the great hall, and low doorways draped with cloths leading into rooms beyond.  Back doors allow patrons out onto the dock you saw from outside.

As the daylight dwindles, most of the light inside the inn is provided by thin reed lights arranged at intervals on long wooden tables.  There are, at first guess, around 4 dozen patrons in the inn, thought it is not quite at capacity.

In reply to GM (msg # 101):

Titus pays the boy the coins with sufficient flair of prestidigitation making the coins appear and disappear between his fingers several times before depositing them in a neat column in his palm.  He then coughs one into the boys hand and hems.

That one... that one is for you.

He says in put off voice.

Wheres the innkeeper?

He goes to find the innkeeper and strike the usual minstrel's deal.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:56, Wed 23 Oct 2019.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 102):

Brennan, largely preoccupied with studying the journals along the road, takes a more keen interest in the proceedings once they reach the inn. His eyes seem to drink in every face, every nook, every cranny.

OOC: How many of these people are obviously armed or armored? How many pay us more mind than they should, or so much less mind that it's suspicious?

Ciryl breathes in the air of the inn and immediately crinkles his nose at the stench of fish, but that aside a grin spreads across is face.  Smells aside, the atmosphere is a welcome sight after the trials of Ducktown and days on the road.  He finds an empty table to sit at, or failing that one with an empty seat and kindly asks if it's available for a weary traveler.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 104):

A section of empty table is easy enough to find, as are locals willing to talk to you about your travels if you so choose.

You have learned enough these past days, however, to be aware that they will identify you by your accents pretty quickly unless you are skilled enough to mask it.

OOC: if you want to talk to locals, let me know if you are angling to learn anything in particular.

The owners of the inn, which turn out to be one large extended family joined by marriage, will quickly bring ale along with a thick stew of fish, eel, and turnip served in hard bread, provided you show them the coin first.

Titus wheedles, deals, and flirts a bit, and is able to find that a bed and hot meal are available to him if he will perform for the night.  However, everyone else will need to pay for beds.

Most everyone in the inn appear to be locals back from fishing, or laborers from further north working here until winter hits.  None of these are armed beyond a utility knife or stout walking stick.

There ARE however a small handful of men wearing Xander's livery in the far corner.  They are not wearing heavy armor, but they do have long knives at their hips.  They do not appear to be particularly alert for anything.

OOC: as a general note.  If there WERE to be a fight here, the close quarters, multiple tables, etc would make using larger weapons difficult unless you don't care about hitting bystanders/destroying things.

Ciryl pays for his meal and bed without argument when the owner's prompt for coin, as well a round of drinks for the party as he calls the less musically inclined of the group to sit with him, leaving Titus to make his own deals, and only hoping they can't end worse than the last time.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 106):

Titus does the usual, song, dance, magic tricks, and capering about.  He disguises his accent to match with the Northerners that hes been studying on the road.  Titus works the room collecting tips and swapping news and stories.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:41, Fri 25 Oct 2019.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 107):

While you've grown accustomed to Zeke's casual distance from all things interpersonal, you're all a bit taken aback to see a forlorn smile cross his face as he finds an empty table next to the softly crackling hearth, the light of the fire's glow seemingly reflected in his usually distant eyes. If you didn't know any better, you might think he looks.. homesick?

It's been so long since I felt the warmth of a friendly fire and heard the siren's call of the slowly embering wood and coals. It reminds me of..

Zeke closes his eyes, clearly absent of your proximity or evaluations, a greedily deep inhalation and a begrudging exhale the only sign of his continued consciousness.

When Ciryl approaches with a drink, he happily accepts. And then another. And another. And another, until it becomes quickly apparent that Zeke may have more than a passing aptitude for consumption. When pressed, he responds simply:

A merc does two things well, if he does them all: Fight, and Drink.

As his intake increases, so does his dour disposition, before ultimately withdrawing once more to the warmth of the fire, the occasional lifting and resetting of his stein the only sign of his cognitive awareness as he becomes ostensibly nonverbal. Whatever fire of awareness and loss flickered behind his eyes effortlessly replaced by the unabetting glaze of alcohol induced darkness and the increasing comfort of the table in front of him.

(OOC- He's going to essentially pass out in front of the fire. Unless you try and pull him up to a room, or the innkeeper makes a scene about it, he's going to sleep face down, fireside, for the cost of his room.)

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 108):

Titus' effortlessly keeps tabs on everyone in the inn at once, as if he has a built in radar.  Just as Zeke reaches the tipping point of no return from the happiness of drunken stupor, he feels Titus' and a woman's hands under his shoulders.  In the haze Zeke will notice this was the prettiest girl present (a low bar in this location) that Titus had been swinging around in a wild dance a moment earlier.

Titus tucks Zeke in smiles as the girl giggles at him as he sends her back to the common room.

Rest well. We don't know what tomorrow will bring.

The crowd had been singing to this point as Titus left and you hear his voice resume and take the lead as he works his grand re-entrance.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 109):

While his eyesight has largely betrayed him, the soft hands and kind gesture of support overrule any protest Zeke's body may make, and pull him upward in an unknown direction.

Let's just hope they aren't spoiling for anything more than a collapse; I'd hate to spoil the good drink.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 110):


Brennan listens to Titus's stories with only half an ear, the rest of his mind focused on their surroundings and those who inhabit them. He will speak little of their travels to those who ask, though he will ask around to learn more about whatever passes for a church or temple around these parts.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:48, Mon 28 Oct 2019.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 111):


Titus' music and song are well enough received, though the locals do not have much coin to spare he is able to eat, drink, and sleep for free.

The locals, tired from a hard days work and needing to prepare for another, are not overly boisterous nor do they stay late after sundown and you are quickly left with a sparser crowd of travelers, young men, and a few who appear to be either soldiers or scouts of some kind.

The crowd gradually breaks into small knots talking quietly.  The owners allow the rushlights to burn out, eventually leaving the fireplace as the only source of light.

In reply to GM (msg # 112):

Titus quiets down as the fires burn down until he is crooning almost as much to himself as the wider audience, providing a pleasant drone in the background as the night winds to a close.  He then eventually pulls up a chair with Brennan in a dark corner as the rest go to their room.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:42, Tue 29 Oct 2019.

Ciryl Joins Titus and Brennan on his way to bed, leaning into their table to speak in low tones, "Don't stay up too late.  You stand out."  He leans back and glances around the room, letting the message sink in along with the small knots of what are likely military men remaining.  He gives a curt nod and a "G'night" without waiting for a substantial response before continuing on to bed.

Arrayed by his hallmark stones of obsidian and absolutely no worse for the wear, an altogether coherent Zeke meditates silently at the foot of his bed, his senses extended collectively outward, clearly fixated on a world of stories only he can comprehend.

Who are you all really when you think no one is watching? And who is it you think I am when you have no reason to believe I am?

Trust had never come easy for the Mkwynn, less so since..

An imperceptible shudder coursed his frame, the only movement to be found for the remainder of the evening in his quarters.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 115):


Brennan sits with Titus for a bit before following Cyril's example and bedding down in their quarters for the evening. He wedges his pack on the bed against the wall and sleep against it such that none could easily disturb its contents without also disturbing Brennan himself.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:07, Fri 01 Nov 2019.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 116):

Titus lets the whole group beds down and does the minstrel at the end of the night thing then goes into the room with the team, he keeps a watch until his time is up and gently awakens the next team member to take the watch.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:38, Fri 01 Nov 2019.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 117):

Little of note happens overnight in the inn.  Few end up actually staying, mostly just the traveling laborers and the aforementioned soldiers, but they abed early enough.

It is the 28th Day of the Queen's Month

The other guests rise at first light, breaking their fast with cold fish on bread and a little butter before heading out.

The air is cold outside today, with heavy mists rising off the lake, thick enough that you cannot see water or the mountains beyond at all.

In reply to GM (msg # 118):

A well rested Zeke greets the party with a gruff nod.

Zeke gestures outward at the proverbial foggy moors, looking to the others for guidance.

The air is pregnant with ominous potential and the way before us shrouded. How should we proceed?

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 119):

Unless its that mist that turns you inside out then one foot infront of the other

says a completely unphased Titus.

So guys just so we know, I heard tales of a monster in plate mail to the west of here rampaging through the forests... may be one of the chosen.  We had best prepare ourselves for this eventuality. 

"Aye, along the road seems the easiest way," Ciryl agrees matter-of-factly with Titus.  He looks quite pleased with his night's rest.  He's not quite chipper but as he eats the meager breakfast on offer and makes to ready his mule and cart he seems lighter on his feet and quicker about things as he moves.  The small inn and uncomplicated necessities of traveling seem to be his element.  "Maybe the beast of the lake will eat it," Ciryl replies, nonplused, to Titus's warning of the monster in plate mail, "Or maybe it's one of Xander's new ogres, all the more reason to not go into the forests.  Needn't be our concern."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 121):

Brennan takes his time awakening, going through his usual meditation ritual before joining the group for breakfast.

"I heard the same rumor," Brennan replies when talk turns to the giant. "And while I am loathe to leave one of the Chosen behind, I have no desire to associate with a particularly violent brute, if the stories are to be believed."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 122):

Zeke listens to his compatriots, nodding solemnly as they share the stories of the night. He too had overheard such stories during his faux blackout in the bar.

What else might I have heard had Titus not been so deadset on my well-being? It's going to be a real adjustment remebering there's people who may care about my health again..

While I share your concerns Masters Brennan and Ciryl, one man's violence is another's self defense. Was it not so long ago that you stumbled upon me in a mist of blood and an aura of potential? One can imagine what sort of stories they'd tell about the ash-stained man who moves with the fluidity of water and fights with the crushing strength of the stone.


Zeke lets out a heavy sigh, a thought unspoken clearly weighing on his heart.

It is always the victor or the frightened, often one and the same, who write the story of our lives. How often it is their perspective and for their benefit is rarely considered, and too frequently overlooked.

I would know more of this "creature" in the woods, if our paths had chance to cross.

"Your point's all well and good, but what if this isn't merely a case of frightened locals spinning tales?  Until recently I'd be all for helping some mistaken wanderer, but I've developed cause to believe in monsters in the wilds and I would like a plan beyond appealing to his better nature if there is indeed some terror rampaging in the woods."  Ciryl climbs onto his cart, perhaps over-emphasizing the difficulty his false leg contributes to the process, "I, for one, am not enough of a fighter to hope to survive a monster if we fail to find a man."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 124):

"... Monster?"

In reply to Deev (msg # 125):

It's all right Deev.

Titus says reassuringly patting the man.

I'm sure he's a person... JUST, LIKE, US.  He says emphasizing the end.

I'm certain the truth lies in between the extremes of bloodthirsty monster and frightened man fleeing for his life.  Honestly, I would prefer to avoid this situation altogether and get to Losthelm.  After we learn what we need there... then if we still feel compelled we can double back.

All that being said, if this is a story we will definitely meet him on the road.  You all know this right?

Zeke unexpectedly chortles at Titus and his practical assessment.

I wouldnt have pictured you as a pragmatist of the true outcomes Master Titus. I am inclined based on experience to concur with your assessment, for better or for worse.

Let's heed Master Ciryl and make way for Losthelm.. with perhaps an eye for the monstrous adventure.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 127):

The party continues north along the road.  By late morning the mists have cleared from the lake, allowing views of the many fishermen and their houses lining the water.

However, the prevailing chill does not fade, and you are forced to don your travel cloaks and clasp them tightly about you as you go.

You pass many a farmer and a few odd laborers going about their business, but little other traffic.  A traveling smith is the most interesting thing you see, his tools clanking as he rattles down the road with his oxen and team of apprentices.

Few give you more than a polite nod, which is likely for the best all things considered.

Before the light of day has begun to fade (thus with time to press on if you desire) you reach the largest structure you have seen since departing the Inn.

To the left side of the road is a withered square tower of rough stones, standing some four or five stories tall.  Across from it is a stout low building of similar construction that extends out into the lake as a stone pier such that the rocks in the water are black with wear and weathering.

Moored on the pier is a ship of decent size, all about men are working to load cargo onto her.

From local talk, you are able to discretely gather that there are a few of these ships that bring supplies and goods across the lake to the far side, where there is but one settlement of note.  Apparently there is good stone in the mountains there, and the locals ship it here to be taken north or south as the roads on the eastern side of the lake are too thin to transport stones easily.

All about these stone structures are more low hovels and a large number of stables for pack mules and oxen as well as numerous carts laden with stone.

Visibly discomfited by the increasing cold, Zeke is heartened by the emergence of the large stone tower.

Finally,  a respectable structure. Let's hope that we can find shelter within her welcoming walls. .

Unless we intend to take a turn as popsicles, we should consider offering labor at the dock in exchange for shelter for the night, and perhaps, more information about Master Ciryl's monster..

Ciryl scoffs, "I want nothing to do with it.  Titus's monster if you must.  If they've room for us, I won't argue with another night's rest under a roof though."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 130):

Zeke chortles at Ciryl's delightful protest.

More brains than brave it would seem, but there's a virtue in that..

While it's meant to be subtle, Zeke shoots Titus an all too coy smile and bat of his eyelashes.

Master Titus, we seem to be in need of words and whimsy to facilitate accomodations. Perhaps you could work some of your magic?

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 131):

Titus blushes furiously, covering it with a grandiose bow.

A brilliant idea.  I am at your command.

Titus goes in search of the person in charge of accommodations.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 132):

Oozing with his usual charm, Titus begins questioning a few of the people who seem less busy.  He learns that the Lord and Lady of the tower own the lands roundabout as well as the docks, the ships, and more or less everything else that you can see from where you stand.  Their livery, unsurprisingly, is a green banner with a simple stylized ship and tower in white.

As far as accommodations, there is no inn per se, but Titus is directed to a work boss who is organizing the loading and unloading activities.

He is a stout short man with bristly black hair and eyes that don't ever seem to point in the same direction.

"Yer boys ain't got business with the Lord n Lady d'ya?"  he asks first, then surveys your clothes more closely.

"Ain't got space fer no freeloaders 'r tourusts," he notes, though not unkindly.  "Though if yer willin' to work hard till the sun is set, might be cud find ye a bowl o stew and a place between the other lads fer the night."

In reply to GM (msg # 133):

Titus scoffs at mention of business with the lord and lady

Bah!  Nobilitys nuthin but trouble.

As he listens to the foreman

T'ain't a freeloader amon'us.  Not all are as able bodied though, but got other skills.  Do a right good job o' patchin ye up.

Bowl o' stew and bedplace seem right fair for an afternoon's work.

Titus rounds up the group and presents them to the foreman.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 134):

Zeke, no stranger to needing to be a "strapping young man" for the purposes of manual labor, a hot meal, and a bed with a roof, places on his tightest shirt, and makes a show of twirling his maul with a somewhat uncomfortable lack of effort.

Many hands make for less choring. How can we be of assistance
This message was last edited by the player at 19:42, Wed 13 Nov 2019.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 135):

Brennan does not speak for fear of betraying an unfamiliar accent, but he does make himself available for the manual labor the party seems intent on getting itself into.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 136):

Titus sets about being very visually active, though his efficacy is a mystery for greater minds.  That being said the work goes fast and those around him find themselves buoyed by his effervescence.  As he works he sings and starts song chains encouraging participation from the group.

Assuming nothing happens, as evening falls and the team gathers food he performs for those who want to watch.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 137):

Between Brennan's silence and Zeke's hard work, your group manages to make yourself useful hauling stone.  It being later in the day, most men are more than happy to have some help and are too tired for conversation anyway.

Torches are lit as the light fails, and the work continues for at least an hour after, but you are indeed rewarded with thin clam soup, some hard bread, and sleeping accommodations that are literally just space between other men on a floor softened by straw.

The others are happy indeed to have some small entertainment, and once the work is done and food shared, they eagerly share stories they have heard (though few of them travel far).  Word of the armored monster has reached their ears as well.  Apparently some recent travelers through heard that it was once a knight of the King's own guard, gone made somehow and ransacking the plains with a horde of traitors at his back.

Of Losthelm they know little you have not yet heard, but do note that the increasing war has left it largely untouched, as it is too remote and has not enough resources to be of value.

Thus Titus, Brennan, Zeke, Bryce, and Deev settle into a crowded but warm night with a host of strange smelly men.

Ciryl, being a tradesman, manages to make himself useful in other ways.  Though the tower estate is not large, the Lord and Lady of the house are wealthy enough, and some of their court avail themselves of his remedies.  Thus Ciryl works just as hard, but from the comfort of his cart, and to the tune of actual coin rather than just food.


Additionally, he is invited to sleep in a small cozy room off the kitchens of the Tower House proper, and given a meal there not only of fish but some leeks and even a bit of fowl from a recent hunt.

In reply to GM (msg # 138):

Titus wakes up early and stretches.  He smiles and shmoozes his way into getting the team breakfast. Once everyone has eaten and Ciryl has emerged from his fancy digs Titus starts hearding people towards the road.

Privately to the team he says

This place smells terrible let's get on our way.  Losthelm awaits!

"I don't know what you're talking about, I quite enjoyed the smells last night," Ciryl remarks as he mounts back up on his cart, his beard partially masking a smirk at Titus's expense, "Wouldn't mind stopping by this place again, honestly."

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 139):

Brennan frowns as the group collects its things and prepares for the day.

"It puts me ill at ease to think one of the Chosen has been plagued with madness. Sounds more like the Juggernaut than I'd like. If one of his aspects is running amok, that bodes poorly for the locals."

"Bodes poorly for anyone who'd like to try and stop him either," Ciryl adds, "Juggernaut bent his knee to Hyrium, but if he is a man and these stories are true he's turned his back on two kings already."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 142):

"It's Juggernaut's influence, not the man himself," Brennan replies. "The Chosen are not direct manifestations of the First Men. There is a measure of autonomy involved, though this is tempered by a driving impulse to behave according to your patron's desires."

He turns toward Titus.

"This armored giant reminds me of a previous companion—or, rather, what he might have been like were his ideals more easily compromised. Do you recall what he used to say about feeling compelled to kill, and the exhaustion associated with keeping those impulses at bay?"

"I fear this giant has succumbed to, or perhaps embraced, the call."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:28, Tue 19 Nov 2019.

"That's my point though, what stayed Juggernaut's hand if not the will of his king?  This man has no king he kneels to.  Might as well be a monster at that point,"  Ciryl shakes his head. "Unless you can just divine what influences him or find the potential risk of fighting an aspect of the bloody Juggernaut worthwhile," Ciryl stresses Brennan's term with no lack of sarcasm, clearly no believing that lessens the impact of the 'bloody Juggernaut,' "Because as much as I might like to talk a lad down from rampaging across the country side, fighting him would be the price of failure and I feel safer risking the woodlands than my life just days after that bloody demon.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 144):

Titus doesn't rise to Ciryls bait.

As Brennan mentions their previous companion he smiles and nods knowingly.

I think Ciryl is right.  Discretion is the better part of valor, perhaps Losthelm holds answers to dealing with this man.  We've been working from a disadvantage for long enough.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 145):

It is the 29th Day of the Queen's Month

The rest of the workers are slow to rise, giving you plenty of opportunity to be up and on the road before things get too busy.

The morning is frightfully chill, with similar mists you saw the morning before shrouding the lake in eerie mystery.

OOC: pausing here only for a moment.  At this point we're going to get into some FASTTRAVEL to LostHelm.  Feel free to have discussions in character, make any preparations, and or describe how you spend the trip.  You will pass largely more small farms and fishermen most of the way.

In reply to GM (msg # 146):

Titus has no preparations to make, we have all of the supplies we need.  Along the road he is every bit his normal self, telling stories, workshopping new material with various members of the party.

At the farms he endears himself to and charms everyone at every turn.  He remains on best behavior and there isn't a hint of controversy for the duration.  Anyone who crossed his path would think well of him.

He is definitely in a rush though as he is the first to wake in the morning and willingly makes sure the cart and horses are ready and the team can leave in a minimum of time.

Ciryl is relatively quiet during the journey, used to having only his mule for company he's happy to respond to any comments or conversation he's invited to or that evokes an especially strong opinion, but he doesn't strike up any conversation himself, more than willing to let the clack of hooves and creak cart wheels go unanswered.  In the sparse bits of civilization the party encounters he's willing to barter his skills for lodging or a small bit of coin, but doesn't hawk them openly as he did in Ducktown, owing to his minimal supplies.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 148):

If Ciryl ever mentions his diminishing supplies Titus asks

Can we or should we restock you?

"I intend to once we reach Losthelm.  I have been doing this for a while, you know," Ciryl replies calmly to Titus.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 150):

*Shrugs*

Just don't want to need something from the cupboard only find the cupboard is bare.

He begins to riff (OOC: This song is way longer, darker and weirder than I ever thought)

Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard,
To give the poor dog a bone:
When she came there,
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.

She went to the baker’s
To buy him some bread;
When she came back
The dog was dead!

She went to the undertaker’s
To buy him a coffin;
When she came back
The dog was laughing.

She took a clean dish
to get him some tripe;
When she came back
He was smoking his pipe.

She went to the alehouse
To get him some beer;
When she came back
The dog sat in a chair.

She went to the tavern
For white wine and red;
When she came back
The dog stood on his head.

She went to the fruiterer’s
To buy him some fruit;
When she came back
He was playing the flute.

She went to the tailor’s
To buy him a coat;
When she came back
He was riding a goat.

She went to the hatter’s
To buy him a hat;
When she came back
He was feeding her cat.

She went to the barber’s
To buy him a wig
When she came back
He was dancing a jig.

She went to the cobbler’s
To buy him some shoes;
When she came back
He was reading the news.

She went to the sempstress
To buy him some linen;
When she came back
The dog was spinning.

She went to the hosier’s
To buy him some hose;
When she came back
He was dressed in his clothes.

The Dame made a curtsy,
The dog made a bow;
The Dame said, Your servant;
The dog said, Bow-wow.

This wonderful dog
Was Dame Hubbard’s delight,
He could read, he could dance,
He could sing, he could write;
She gave him rich dainties
Whenever he fed,
And erected this monument
When he was dead.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:55, Thu 21 Nov 2019.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 151):

"There are some supplies you can only get at places like Losthelm," Brennan says. "I'm looking forward to stocking up, as well."

As they draw nearer to their destination, Brennan becomes more and more at ease. His daily meditations take far less time than usual, and he now spends more time writing in his own notebook than he does reviewing the madman's journal.

"I have news," he says at last, a look of relief on his face. "I am satisfied that we are no longer being pursued. The closest Inquisitors are not heading toward us, and those further away are preoccupied with other matters. We are, at least for now, free and clear."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:18, Thu 21 Nov 2019.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 152):

Zeke listens intently to Brennan's story of the possessed local, and finds himself confused, concerned, and altogether mystified by his repeated references to the Juggernaut. The Mkwynn do not keep history the way the rest of the world does, and had not put such emphasis on the first men. Still, his time among humanity had exposed him to their stories, and he grew curious as to how Brennan was tying these fixtures of the past to the troubles of the present.

I cannot show too much of my hand, and should wait for Brennan to be alone, lest his overzealousness to discuss and my ignorance in understanding draw the attention of others.

Zeke waits until there is a natural separation of the party, either before leaving the village, or on the fast travel to LostHelm, and orchestrates some privacy with Brennan, before shyly asking:

Master Brennan, would you tell me more of the First Men, and why you believe they are related to our.. condition? Where I come from, we do not speak of or revere the First Men quite as you do, and I find myself at a loss to understand the role in things being and to come.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 153):

Deev, somewhat uncharacteristically, chatters endlessly during your travels.  The only exception is when you are in the presence of non-party members.

He is rapt as usual by Titus' stories and songs, but even more eager to question Zeke about his past, his travels, and his adventures.

In reply to Deev (msg # 154):

The road is easy going, though every day the nights grow colder and shelter more vital.

Ciryl is able to do some small business, remedies for headaches, pulled teeth, and the like, though mostly just in exchange for supplies, food, and lodgings.

In reply to Deev (msg # 154):

Deev finds that while talking to Zeke isn't like pulling teeth, he is much more forthcoming telling direct, uninspired stories of his time as a mercenary. While his stories are much more truthful and harrowing from a content perspective than those of Titus, he has none of the troubadour's whimsy or showmanship, leading to his stories sounding more like a deposition than an adventure.

As the conversations go on, and Zeke continues to evade much of the inquiry into his past, it will become increasingly clear to Deev that he has some association (or at least familiarity) with the Crag, and that there are many core concepts of life in the King's Realm, including knowledge of the First Men, that Zeke seems surprisingly unaware of.

Whoever he is and how he came to be, Deev is left with the inescapable feeling that Zeke represents a blank spot in a universe otherwise full of color.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 156):

As Titus watches Zeke interact with Deev he raises an eyebrow.

Somebody stole your story... or you stole your own story.

He will push Zeke to reveal as much as he is willing but always on the edge of going too far.  Yet somehow this is endearing... Titus is most certainly a habitual line stepper.

/ooc: I'm ready to fast forward.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 157):

The only other thing Brennan has to contribute, he shares a day or so after the last update, once again immediately after his morning meditation.

"It seems our old friend, Lord Garr, has lain siege to DuckTown. The defenses did not hold out for long—his banner now flies atop its walls."

"Laid seige?  For what reason? It's a fishing village," Ciryl replies, incredulous to Brennan's report.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 159):

"I presume because it was disloyal to the king, and perhaps to stem the rebel advance at a point further north on the roads."

Brennan shrugs slightly.

"Though that is just speculation.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 160):

You are given plenty of time to ruminate on the motivations of Kings, lords, and the Crag as you continue north.

Most nights you are forced to camp or rest near the road, an endeavor which requires steadily more fire and blankets each time.  Every so often you are able to buy or barter a roof over your heads from the locals, though you do not encounter anything so large as the tower house or inn all along the great lake.

Fishermen and farmers are the most common traffic.  Here and there a trader from further north  but these travel with empty carts often as not as people prepare to hunker down for the winter.

Of soldiers and scouts, you see a few but they are always in a hurry somewhere and rarely do so much as glance down from their horses.

In a little over a week, you leave the lake behind you.  Fittingly, the first snow of winter is just falling as you come over the crest of a long low hill and spy Losthelm in the distance.

Unlike most of the towns and clusters you have passed, Losthelm is almost entirely of stone, and those are old and worn.  It is clear that the city was once several large stone buildings that have since been built upon and joined together to form a dense sprawling knot of towers, arches, long buildings, and overpasses.  Between every large structure, thin tall buildings of wood and daub are jammed in long uneven rows.

Another difference, is the prevalence of glass windows in both the stone towers and the buildings strung between.

By the time you reach the periphery, the roofs are crusted with white and your shoulders damp from the snow.

There are no walls about the city, and you see little evidence of soldiers or guards as you approach.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:16, Fri 06 Dec 2019.

In reply to GM (msg # 161):

While Zeke's physical stature is impressive and his strength at least somewhat known to you, the cold seems to have a rather visible, disquieting effect on his disposition. While he voices no complaint, he is clearly not at home in the increasing chill of the North. Were you to wax poetically about his appearance, it would be clear for any and all to see that he is increasingly a stranger in a very far away land from wherever he found and called the comfort of home.

Yet Zeke's disposition notably improves at the first real sight of Losthelm.

Look at all those beautiful stone edifices and path ways. It's a canvas of potential, just waiting for the warm paint of the earth's liquid embrace. It reminds me of..


Zeke quickly forces the thought from his mind, a violent shaking of his head to and fro the only outward sign of his inner tumult.

No sense in being homesick, but still, there is an undeniable pull I feel to this frozen stonescape. What it is I seek here I cannot say, but there is something here I need.

Or that needs me.

It seems we've finally arrived. It would do these bones well to warm themselves by a fire. Given the lack of guards, shall we continued onward and make for the inn and see what we can learn of the town and times?

Zeke smiled softly, confident that Titus wouldn't be passing on the opportunity to wander toward the local watering hole.

There's something to be said for that boy's consistency..

Ciryl reacts to the cold similarly to Zeke, making to comment or complaint.  However, while Zeke is visibly out of his element Ciryl is simply the victim of an unusual extreme, hunching tightly atop his wagon to concentrate his body heat and pulling out an extra coat from his cart to attempt to insulate himself.

"Try to keep out of trouble," Ciryl warns Titus at Zeke's suggestion before nodding to Brennan, "You said something about getting supplies here, didn't you?  I need to restock my cart, if those two are seeing to rooms, Bryce and Deev can deal with the horses if you'd like some company."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 163):

Titus is the polar opposite to Zeke and Ciryl, showing no outward sign of actually being cold,  but complaining about it in colorful language as if this is what he thinks he should be doing given the situation.  He focuses much on the lack of amenities.

...I'm going to set up an inn along this road and charge ten times the normal rates and make a killing.....

As they arrive at the city Titus stares for a moment, looking awestruck then shakes his head and resumes walking, back to normal.

Never seen anything quite like that...

When Ciryl admonishes Titus he gives him a goofy, sloppy salute.

Yes sir!

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 164):

Zeke bows his head in a curt, respectful manner toward Ciryl and his pre-admonishment of Ciryl.

I'll see that things don't get too interesting.

Zeke turns to Titus, with an almost inperceptible smirk tugging at the left of his lips.

It would seem I'm once again deferring to your wisdom Master Titus. Which way shall we go?

And what might I learn about this place, their journey, and their true intentions away from our chaperones?

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 165):

From the approach Titus was able to easily identify an inn.  He will make a beeline for it.

This way.

He says confindently.

Once we have this squared away lets go shopping, I imagine they have some interesting items here.

Indeed. I'd love to see if there is an apothecary or geologist in town. The earth in these parts are not known to me- I would learn of its secrets.

And why its calling to me

Zeke locks arms with Titus and the unlikely pair make for the inn.

Theres something so beautiful about the calm before the eruption..

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 167):

Brennan pauses for a moment, taking in the scene and seeming profoundly content.

"Have a care," he says at last. "This place is under the protection of Lord Able, and it is further defended by the Scholars Guild. Do not let that name dissuade you, either—they are not to be underestimated."

As the group prepares to split for the time being, Brennan nods toward Cyril.

"A supply run sounds like an excellent idea. We shall reconvene at the Inn by sundown, agreed?"

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 168):

Titus seems to take his cue from Brennan acting equally confident.

Agreed.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 169):

The group continues together down the hill, snow gently obscuring the footprints behind you.

No guards greet you, thought you spot one or two stout men with axe belted about their waists and sigils upon their breast.  What with the cold and the snow, few people travel the streets, and even then they move in small knots with cloaks drawn tightly to them and spend as little time out of doors as possible.  The city is best described by the word 'sleepy', or perhaps 'slumbering' for though it is still and quiet, the ancient stones and thick towers belay an ancient strength unmatched in these parts.

The streets are narrow and windy, largely weaving between this or that building like an organic maze of stone.

It is, however, well lit by lamps and almost all of the windows glow merrily.

As soon as you cross the threshold of the outer buildings, you make your way toward the more open city center.  There, Bryce and Deev break off to find accommodations for the horses.  The rest of the party splits up about their own errands.  Finding directions is easy enough, the people are curt but friendly, and seem not to be at all surprised by strange travelers, nor do they much comment on your accents.  In fact, you hear in your short time a smattering of tongues from the southern shores to the western plains and even a hint here and there of Nor or Chal'i.

Titus makes his way to the largest inn in Losthelm, and one that he is assured is both safe and clean as well as a good place to find local guides to the ruins further east.  It is a large long building of lumber and straw, jammed against the wall of a citadel and a portion of turret.

Inside he finds a roaring fire and clusters of people gathered around wooden tables chatting quietly.  The thing that strikes him first is how many there appear to be reading or writing.  Such literacy in a tavern is a bit of an oddity.

Ciryl finds his way to a local apothecary, which is housed inside a huge stone building the locals tell him is called "the laboratory".  The inside smells of a million chemical reactions, hundreds of plants, and wafts of deadly chemicals.  Rather than a simple store, this is a bustling place of learning where masters conduct research and students learn eagerly... or fetch tea as the case may be...

OOC: not sure what Zeke and Brennan planned to do first
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:22, Thu 12 Dec 2019.

Ciryl stands quietly and takes in the sight of the place for a moment, the entire environment an unfamiliar sight for the medicine man.  After coming to grips with what he's seeing Ciryl is ultimately able to understand the roles of the bustling individuals. After quietly observing for a moment, he watches one of the younger alchemists rush away from an elder associate and, sensing an opening, Ciryl quickly limps his way toward the remaining alchemist. "Excuse me sir," Ciryl speaks up, waving slightly to catch the attention of the stranger, "I'm not sure if I've come to the right place.  I was directed here while looking to acquire some supplies, but I have to admit I don't know that I've ever seen this many alchemists in one place, do you actually have any surplus for trade?"

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 171):

The Laboratory

"Trade" the young man asks goggle-eyed.  He sizes Ciryl up and down for a moment.

"OH, I SEE!  You're a TRAVELING alchemist..." he enunciates the word 'traveling' as if speaking to a child, and tightens his grip around the book he was carrying as if he were afraid Ciryl might try to steal it.

"Yes... I believe our Stock master arranges those things... I can... well you walk that way."

The young man points toward a desk and half leads, half follows Ciryl as he makes his way over.

The man behind the desk is much older, with a shiny bald head and greying beard.  He looks up from his ledgers after a few moments (and a not-so-subtle clearing of the throat from Ciryl).

"Yes?  Buying or selling?" he asks, setting down his quill carefully.

Ciryl notes that the younger acolyte appears to have signaled at some point, and that he is now flanked by a much larger acolyte wearing a thick grey robe and holding a staff topped with a metal point.

Before Ciryl can open his mouth to speak, there is a bang and a merry call from behind him.

Titus, with Zeke behind him, has barged in behind.

The Stock master nods toward Titus, and the young acolyte and the bigger, armed acolyte move over toward them.

Laboratory: Stockmaster's Desk

"Now, then?"

Laboratory: Entryway

Titus and Zeke are approached by a nervous young man in robes clutching a heavy tome.... as well as a much larger man in similar robes holding something that is a cross between a spear and a walking staff

In reply to GM (msg # 172):

Titus shrugs and waves sheepishly as if surprised to bump into Ciryl here.  He smiles winningly at attendant in the entrance way.

My friend here has in interest in rocks... thats.. uh.... what did Brennan call it.

He purses his lips face screwed up in thought

Lithamancery?  Geo...geo something or other...geometry?  Is that it?

He trails off hoping for some hope from the attendant.

When Titus and Zeke barge into the establishment Ciryl's shoulders sag, "Why...?" he rasps helplessly.  When Titus waves and starts talking, however, he immediately snaps back to the counter not returning the gesture from his traveling companions in the slightest, "Buying.  Please," he says warmly, offering a curt nod and broad smile to the stockmaster.

Pleasantries dispensed with, Ciryl proceeds to rattle off a list of alchemical components and medical ingredients, apparently from memory, occasionally counting on his fingers as he goes.  At last he trails off and nods idly, apparently complete with his shopping list, "How much?" He continues smiling pleasantly, but after a beat adds, "I could write that down if it would help."

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 174):

As the rest of the group disperses to go shopping, Brennan remains behind to breathe in the cool, crisp air in contentment.

Eventually, his steps draw him toward the library...

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 175):

For the first time since you've met him, Zeke displays an emotion you've never seen- childlike wonder.

Awe inspired by the Alchemist's shop and the state of his wares, Zeke has all the calm of a kid on Christmas as the young man approahces him.

With a tone bordering on ebullient, Zeke engages the young apprentice:

I was hoping to speak to the master of your shop and understand the history of stones in this area, and whether he'd encountered any he could not explain. I have an.. affinity and aptitude for such things, and was hoping to meet a kindred spirit.

Zeke smiles genuinely. His intentions are not clear to you, but the deliberate and decisive intent of his actions is clear for any to see. As to why, you cannot say..
This message was last edited by the player at 12:30, Fri 20 Dec 2019.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 176):

About Losthelm

Brennan quickly learns from speaking with passing men in robes that this might just be the perfect place for a man like him.

There is no "the library" so much as there are a multitude of buildings that house separate "collections", organized by topic and origin, making up the full total of written pieces.  In fact, once Brennan is alerted to a small brass placard on a stone wall, he realizes that the whole city is effect a "library" of sorts, with individual buildings being labeled and 'filed' just as sections of a more conventional library would be.

Thus Brennan is given options: choose a sort of text to start with, or move on to the library's Central Archives (the administrative hub).

Laboratory: Entryway

"I believe... you are referring to... Geology?" the acolyte puzzles, giving Titus and Zeke another up-and-down.

When he gets an affirmative he presses on, all the while casting sidelong glances at both his "guard" and the other masters moving about behind him.

"You must have gotten lost or... conf... but anyway, we don't do... well you should really GO to the Academy... or to Central Archives."  emphasis is placed very deliberately on the word 'go'.

"Any master of that field would be at the Academy, or have their equipment there.  If you want BOOKS about geology, better ask the librarians in the Central Archive."

He provides rough directions, again emphasizing how much the walk will incorporate leaving the building as a critical step.

Laboratory: Stockmaster's Desk

Ciryl finds the Stockmaster to be coarse, but businesslike and fair.  There is a small bit of haggling, but it is quickly evident that he is not overly interested in profits and so is both willing to offer fair prices and unwilling to move on those.

In reply to GM (msg # 177):

Titus nods a quick bow.

We thank you for that.  Zeke if I may have a moment.

Titus steps close to the man and speaks softly in his ear.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 178):

Laboratory: Entryway

The acolyte jumps back at first, and even after he realizes Titus is leaning forward to speak, not attack, he acts profoundly uncomfortable with this level of proximity.

He frowns and finally points toward a desk at the far end of the room.  There, you see a grizzled man in a robe sitting across from an equally grizzled Ciryl.  As Titus turns to follow his finger, he whispers something back before making excuses and dashing off.


The larger robed man with the staff remains, saying nothing.

In reply to GM (msg # 179):

Thats the one!

When he mentions Geology, he smiles broadly.

Titus looks quizzically at the large man in robes and smiles.

If I may one question... indulge me...Why is he so jumpy?  Is he always like that?

Titus will wait for an answer if none is forthcoming he will smile, curtsey and meet Zeke outside.  He sighs heavily.

That was profoundly unhelpful... sounds like we want the Academy.  Let's go.

While we are walking through the streets I'm keeping an eye out for any antique, curiosity or jewelry shops.

Ciryl reaches into his pockets and clinks coins on the counter in front of the stockmaster, counting out money in a dull mumble before shoving the pile forward, "You are a hard negotiator sir, but a reasonable man.  I'll take all of it that you are able to part with," he holds out his hand to seal the transaction. He glances from side to side and leans forward in a conspiratorial manner, "But, may I inquire where your supply of whiteblossom originates?  If you have no excess I am still in need of a source."

While Zeke's confusion is palpable at the events which have transpired in the laboratory, hes all too pleased to have seen the situation redeemed by Titus.

I knew I chose wisely. .

While I understand little of your methods and ministrations Master Titus, it is hard to argue with their success. Would you be so kind as to accompany me further, or is there other business we should tend to? Far be it from me to tell a performer how and when the show should go on. And what's this I heard about.. exposions?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:22, Sun 22 Dec 2019.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 182):

Titus cocks an eyebrow at Zeke, but then his face returns to its static smile.

I will certainly accompany you further in your quest.  I'm intrigued to see your abilities in action.  We all have our skills and I would know yours before we end up in a tight situation.

We will begin with your errand and then continue onto mine.

The explosions...

He gets a distant look on his face then waves a hand dismissively.

Its probably nothing.  Its half one thing and half another. What I did say was truth, you've seen me in action enough to know my performance.  Yes, I could do so much more.

As he says this a dizzying array of colors swim into Zeke's vision.

But I don't need my gifts to make a show.  My father used to call these 'special effects' and their impact on the audience is not to be underestimated.  I keep it a secret because mystery helps the audience to believe.

Also smoke bombs are fantastic in a pinch and I'm out.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 183):

You can't be certain, but the momentary pain on Zeke's face at the mention of your father is beyond palpable, but it's gone as quickly as it came.

I envy and respect your certainty of purpose Master Titus. My path has not been so clear in its underpinnings.

Zeke sighs heavily, the pain obvious for any to see.

My time with my family was not as rich as yours Master Titus. I am left with only stories and what..should have been.

And what WILL be

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 184):

Zeke sees pain equal to his own as he discusses his family, Titus places a comforting hand on the man's shoulder and looks to the ground, when he looks up his face is tear streaked.

As am I.

He sighs regaining his composure and wipes his tears away.  His invincible veneer has returned.

Let's go to the academy and learn something about this... Geeeoluhgeee.

Titus says as if practicing the word.  You can hear him muttering it to himself until it becomes natural.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 185):

Laboratory: Stockmaster's Desk

The Stockmaster counts out the money carefully, signaling to another acolyte with a casual click of his fingers.

The younger man dashes over and scoops up the coin while the Stockmaster logs the transactions in a great tome.

While acolytes dash off to the stores to fetch Ciryl's purchases, the Stockmaster leans forward over clasped hands.

"Whiteblossom has been known to bloom from time to time in a small moor to the East of here... further than the main ruins, actually.  Every so often a research party will come across some.  All of the guides are under instruction to bring it back to us for a handsome reward.  As you are no doubt aware, however, the laymen are infrequently as diligent as they should be in proper storage and transport of so fragile a resource.  Normally we get only a few scant petals back."

A Branch of the Library

Brennan wanders into a branch of the library that turns out to be all volumes of history of The Kingdom.  He peruses the shelves under the watchful eye of yet another armed acolyte.

About Losthelm

The big acolyte with the stick shrugs.  "He's new."

Talking, Titus and Zeke barge back out into the city, noticing anew how cold it has become.

Without too much difficulty, they manage to locate the Academy.  This is an enormous building that protrudes out from one stone wall and has a massive apse of curved wood.  From this are hung numerous candles as well as strange globes of colored paper and stuffed specimens of various animals.

The building has a long hall with offices off the sides in either direction.

As soon as they enter, Zeke and Titus are once again accosted by an acolyte, this one a girl with patchy blond hair and a turned up nose.

"I appreciate the information.  If I ever find myself with a surplus I'd be happy to repay you with some properly cared for ingredients," Ciryl gives a grateful bob of his head, "And may you have a good day, sir."  His most immediate business concluded, Ciryl sees that his cart is loaded properly by the acolytes and goes to find where Bryce and Deev have stabled the horses, to leave his mule with them.  Without his cart, he has a long trip to whatever passes for an inn in the city of academics, hoping Titus and Zeke have indeed secured them lodgings before barging into the last place he expected to see them.

In reply to GM (msg # 186):

Titus smiles warmly at the girl.

Hello there.  Am I to understand that this is where the geology department is located?

My friend has an interest in the different types of rocks and the information contained within.  In our travels we have encountered some strange things that we would like an experts opinion on.  Perhaps they can help explain some of the things we have seen in our travels.

Brennan's eyes skim the titles etched across the spines of the books carefully, storing the information away for later but casting it aside for the time being. He parses the various brass placards silently as he darts from subject to subject and, thus, from room to room and buildings to building as he makes his way toward texts on the Dreams, philosophy, theology, and linguistics.

Any maps or histories of the ruins of his immediate environs he will also take the time to pull from the shelves, study for a few moments, and shelve. The passer-by may presume Brennan is merely browsing, but a more thoughtful soul might see his eyes gleam as they drink in the information that passes before them with a voracious appetite.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 189):

The Laboratory

Ciryl follows the trickle of Acolytes carrying his fresh supplies out into the cold air.  He 'aids' them in their work by reminding them constantly to mind the cart and not to drop or jostle anything.

Once loaded, the acolytes vanish back into the warmth of the laboratory, leaving Ciryl to watch his breath freeze in the air outside.

He then leads his cart and horse toward the largest and most prominent Inn, which quite reasonably is exactly the place Titus chose.  Inside, Ciryl finds clusters of people around tables more interested in books than in bothering travelers.

A Branch of The Library

Brennan revels in the rare opportunity for so much reading.


The Academy

"Geology?" the Acolyte asks suspiciously.  "Are you a courier?"

When Titus denies this, she shrugs.

"Here then, I will take you to Master Finneus, he is our Geology instructor, and keeps our collection."

The acolyte darts off, forcing Titus and Zeke to jog to keep up.

She speeds past numerous offices from which poke wizened old faces and dusty scrolls, until finally she darts left through a door.

Following her in, you find yourself in a room that is more hallway than office.  From both left and right, numerous shelves protrude such that you have to move carefully to avoid upsetting them with your elbows or larger pieces of equipment you carry.

These shelves, Zeke is awed to find, are cluttered with a seemingly endless array of samples.  Rocks, geodes, crystals, slivers and flecks of material, each carefully labeled (though the words make no sense to either Titus or Zeke).

At the far end of the long room, an old man stands slowly from a desk as the acolyte takes up residence by his elbow.

"Yes?  What can I help you with?  Oh please, PLEASE, do look about!  It's not every Queen's Month I have guests interested in the treasures of the earth!  Oh but DO be careful not to disturb the samples..."

In reply to GM (msg # 190):

Titus moves lithely in the confined space completely aware of his body in respect to the area, he bows courteously and smiles broadly.  He allows Zeke a moment to search to his hearts content.  While Zeke is looking Titus makes small talk with the professor to allow Zeke the time to look and not make it awkward.

Master Finneus I presume.  This collection is quite magnificent.  If I may ask a question... I have heard tale of rocks with bones in them.  However, such an idea sounds preposterous to me.  Does such a thing exist?

One of the things Titus will lob at Finneus to buy time will be to ask him what his interest in the stones are and what he is currently working on.  Surefire way to get an academic talking, also maybe there is something happening currently that is interesting and geologic in nature.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:43, Tue 31 Dec 2019.

Whoosh.

Even if you hadn’t been able to see Zeke, the exhalation of the air leaving his body at the shock of seeing so many pieces of paper stored in one place would have been an obvious breeze against your skin.

So much kindling stored in one place, and for the purpose of knowledge? Such audaciously beautiful hubris these humans have, trusting to ash what is saved only by stone. <DarkBlue>

After a moment to recover his senses, and a somewhat embarrassing nudge from Titus, Zeke shakes his head, composure and purpose restored.

<DarkBlue> Please pardon my surprise. I was simply marveling at the wonder of this place, by extension those who inhabit it.

Zeke pauses again, clearly working up the courage to ask his question.

I am here seeking information on a series of tales too strange and consistent in their story to be anything other than based in some local legend. Creatures of ice and stone living in the deepest and darkest caverns of the North, occasionally trading in secret with select members of Losthelm.

What sir, can you tell me about the Mkwynn?

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 192):

The Academy

"Hmmmm," the old professor scratches at his beard.  "Mkwynn you say?  I'm afraid that's not my area of expertise, legends and old folklore would be Professor Pyke down the hall.  I have heard the name, no doubt about that, I know they were a race rumored to live far beneath the earth long ago... impossible I say, but most legends DO have their basis in reality don't they?  But it might interest you that there IS a rather fascinating connection between those legends and geology?  Well, maybe that would have been obvious, them being spirits of the earth and all that..."  he toddles out from behind his desk and scoots carefully down the room among the long shelves of samples.

"Here!" he declares after some rummaging.  He produces a long shard of stone, that looks not entirely dissimilar to those Zeke carries and displayed before, though this one is far larger and of more brilliant hue.

"This, colloquioally anyway, is Mala stone, or sometimes, when it forms a longer more contiguous crystaline structure, Mala's Finger".

He displays the long shard of crystal proudly.  It seems not to catch the light of torches as you would expect, but where the warmth of his hand touches the base, it shines more brightly.

In reply to GM (msg # 193):

Titus' eyes light up at the mention of Pyke.  He mutters low under his breath so only Zeke can hear

We are going to him next.

Titus looks on with mild academic interest.  He holds a finger over the stone not touching it

May I?

He asks gently.

And how does this stone fit into the legend?

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 194):

The words of the old professor wash over Zeke like a tornado whipping across a desert plain. Were he not so disciplined, his placid face would show the mind shattering discourse whirring through his head.

He knows we are real. He has heard of my people. He has a.. what did he call it.. Mala stone? It's unlike anything I've seen, even in the places below the Crag. Could there truly be a greater purpose to all I have endured and the roads that have let us to this now; is this truly the first step toward my family's redemption and reclamation of all that has been lost?


Zeke waits, a picture of patience as Titus softly questions the professor and asks to handle his unusual stone, an absent minded muttering, barely audible, the only outward sign of the magnitude of this encounter.

Father..

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 195):

The Academy

"Absolutely!" the academic hands the shard of crystal over to Titus.  "As you can see, it has a rapid endothermic.... I mean, it reacts to the warmth of your hand... changing colors as you can see."

As Titus turns it over, the stone indeed shines where his fingers press, then quickly fade back to dull when he releases it.

"A curiosity in the geological world... of no practical purpose, but deeply fascinating.  It is rare, but not terribly valuable to anyone but academics, I'm afraid..."

He thinks.  "Again I must appologize, how it fits into the legends I do not know.  I seem to recall there being a woman named 'Mala', or 'Mal'Ah' perhaps?  Likely part of the 'second men' tales... the stories involved with but not directly about the First Men."

The fixed precision of Zeke’s gaze upon the Mala stone could have cut a diamond from the rough, and anything else that happened to pass through it’s path of intention.

Ma’La? Second Men Tales. There’s so much I have been denied and do not know. Who am I, and what role do I, and my true parents play in all this?

Finally finding his voice, and sensing an opportunity to extract information without offering undue context or background, Zeke finally pipes up:

Second men tales? I have not heard of such things Professor. Truth be told, even the tales of the first men that Master Brennan and Titus have shared are not known to me. Much of the greater history’s of this world remain a history, and I would, if you are willing, indulge in hearing more from you so that I may better understand how this world came to be .

And perhaps, just perhaps, how I came to be in it, and what my birthright truly is. Mother. Father. You will be avenged. I swear to it.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 197):

I believe those may be questions for Master Pyke.  If he is in I would pay him a visit next.

Titus holds the stone reverentially pondering its mysteries as it changes in response to touch. He hands it back after a moment to the scholar.  As he hands it back Zeke feels a calming, supportive hand on his hip.

Do you know where we can find more stones like these, they are beautiful and fascinating?  Do you know how they are made?  Why are they so different from the other stones?

Also one of our colleagues has spoken of getting to Losthelm at this time, I don't suppose there is anything occurring of recent origin in the....

He struggles for a moment.

In the... bones of this region?  I mean the ground itself?

He turns to Zeke with an amicable smile.

We can address some of the lore concerns in a moment with Master Pyke do you have any questions regarding the physical for this gentleman?

Catching the whimsical bard's drift, Zeke nods in ascent with the suggestion to move toward Master Pyke.

Thank you for your time professor.

and the hope its brought..

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 199):

The Academy

"These stones are formed deep in the earth, this much we know.  At times the Ash farmers in the crag will come across a sample, but the most common source is the ruins to the east.  Several expeditions have brought me samples, and my apprentices have traveled there once or twice.  I am not of an age to make the journey myself, but I have compiled reports of a sort of fissure where the Mala stones may be found."

He rummages through a pile of books, and after a few minutes of muttering and flipping produces a sketch of an opening in the earth in which dark crystals can be seen."

"I have performed numerous experiments and studies on the samples... though perhaps you would find my results more... academic than practical.  However, I can say that though they found numerous samples, they did not learn anything that would tell us HOW they are formed."

"As to your other questions, I'm afraid my expertise lies in the earth and the stones it births, not in the history of men.  Besides, I have no skill as a storyteller," the old academic shakes his head gravely.

Titus and Brennan thank him for his time (assuming you have no further questions), and are directed by acolytes to another building down the way.  This, you are told, is a portion of the Library dedicated to lore and history.

The Library: Lore Branch

Brennan's eyes flick up from a lengthy tome on the histories of house Bannon (largely a series of unsuccessful bids to buy their way to higher station and marry their decidedly homely children off) to see Titus and Zeke barge in.

The pair are directed to a small section of the building where huge chairs are set about a fireplace.  In these chairs, a trio of old scholars sit debating.

"Hello? Yes?" an old man responds when they ask for Master Pyke.

"Not that his opinions are worth much..." an even older woman adds.

In reply to GM (msg # 200):

Brennan shoves the book back into its place on the shelf and picks up another volume, this one on a shelf close enough to the conversation so he might overhear without intruding.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 201):

Titus flashes Brennan a knowing smirk and wink as he pulls up a chair and then throws himself into full shmooze, graciously offering his hand to the academic.

Master Pyke, I presume.  If I may interrupt...

he looks to the other scholars sitting there and his eyes light up and he smiles a toothy grin at the older lady stifling a laugh.

It appears that we are in luck... we get three for one as it were.  Thats good.  Three is a good number in stories.

Titus turns his profile to the group displaying an archetypal profile of his people.

As a Minhoan I was told we knew all the stories of the world... but I met my friend here and... in the way of stories I find a thread, and as I tug on that thread I find myself pulling on an entire sweater as it were.

I have... so many questions for you and I hope that you have the time and knowledge to answer a few of them.

Titus pulls up a pair of chairs for himself and Zeke (if there are none available he will grab them from the library proper).

I'm... uncertain if this would entice such scholars as yourself, but I have been on the road for some time now, collecting stories.  If there is anything I can help with on the craft or the content of modern tales I am willing to help.

He surveys the table judging responses.

The first is that I have recently been introduced to a new group I have never heard of before.  Do you know anything of the tales, history and truth of the M'Kwynn?
This message was last edited by the player at 21:08, Thu 09 Jan 2020.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 202):

Zeke eyes a somewhat confused and seemingly suspicious Brennan.

I am sorry Master Brennan, but I too had my own reasons for making for Losthelm. In my time as a mercenary in the North, I heard many variations on a rumor- that were a group of beings, more ancient than your First Men and somehow connected to the primordial world, the Mkwynn as the men's tales would tell, who lived in the deep, dark, and frozen places in the North.

For reasons my own, I endeavored to learn the truth of this rumor. When our paths crossed and you were making for Losthelm for studies of your own, well, man are ill served when they ignore the omens of the powers that are and will always be.

Zeke turns to the Professor, having been given the general gist of their entry by Titus, and extends his hand with confidence, and to the discerning eye, a slight quiver:

Master Pyke, my name is Zeke Banorev, and I hope there is much you have to tell about the Mkwynn and the Second Men, for I have come to listen.

And plot vengeance..

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 203):

OOC: for all those EXCEPT Zeke: "Tales of the Second Men" isn't really a codified thing, it's just a term used loosely to refer to stores that are more myth than history but don't directly involve the First Men.  There's no set cast of characters, they're more like "Tall Tales".

"Banorev..." Master Pyke replies slowly, turning the name around in his old mouth.

"The Mkwynn tales are an interesting collection... many overlap with other stories of the creation of the Kingdom of Men, the First Men, etc.  Many contradict and many have been lost over the ages."

"What he means," the old woman interjects, "is that Master Pyke has made most of them up in his volumes..."

"Master Pyke has INFERRED and RECONSTRUCTED," the old man corrects her indigently.

The old woman shrugs.

"Anyhow... the Mkwynn could be considered castoffs of the dream, perhaps the first.  It is suggested they formed the solid earth beneath our feet when God's dreams were more... chaotic and disorganized.  Whatever the case, they were more interested in the rocks beneath the terra firma than the beings who walked above, and once the First Men began to conquer, they mostly hid below and stayed out of things.

Neither benevolent nor cruel, they could be seen, especially according to a later transcription of the Slate Codex..."

"Which YOU updated I suppose?"

"Which I REVISITED, yes, they were viewed as something of an impartial balancing force.  Earthquakes and the like were attributed to them, but only to counteract what they saw from below as an imbalance.  Spread the people, spread the mining, etc.  They do not show up in many stores as a focus, more as a reference... much like a force of nature with little personality, just action and judgement."

The old man pauses dramatically, seemingly to gather up more attention in anticipation of his next words.

"There is, of course, the story of Ma'la, the union of fire, and supposedly the last of the interactions between the Mkwynn and mankind.  In one telling, there was a union between species to signify an everlasting peace: mankind and balance united so to speak, that would end our dependence on the earth.  In another telling, the purpose of the union was to instill the last remaining spark of the fading Mkwynn race into humanity, that a seed of their former glory may live on... Naturally, there is no HISTORICAL record of such a union, or any sort of formal alliance.  There is evidence that earthquakes, volcanoes, and the like were more common at one time than they are now..."

Zeke stands in transfixed rapture as the Professor outlines a history of what was, is, and shall be that every fiber of Zeke’s core somehow knows to be inherently true. If skepticism was expressed by the librarian, he never heard a word of it. Absolute truths had been spoken, and for the first time he could remember, the memories of his birthright, the fall, the betrayal by his step mother, they all became clear.


Despite his stoic nature, the import of the words betrayed themselves on his face, and Zeke feared that his companions may have seen his reaction when the Professor spoke of the Ma’la and the history of the Mkwynn.

There would be time later to worry about what his companions did and didn’t know about him. There was barely time for him to composite what we knew about himself. For the first time he could remember, Zeke, nay, Ozychyrius, had a sense of self and home. With a deep inhalation and a final exertion of willpower, Zeke comported himself and responded.

Fanciful tales indeed Professor Pyke, and very much the sort of storied I’d heard swapped as tall tales among the mercenaries of the North. I am disheartened to hear there is no more to their substance than the soldiers had suggested, but do appreciate your time in relaying them.

Feeling satisfied with the deployment of his ruse, Zeke tossed out one final fishing line, for want of a nibble

And a needed next step..

Professor Pyke, is there anywhere indicated in your assembled works to indicate potential avenues of exploration? I’d certainly relish the opportunity to be part of adding any real word consequence and tangibility to your stories.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 205):

The old man harumphs at Zeke's admonishment while the old woman beside him snickers to herself.

"I... well I... these are ANCIENT and INCOMPLETE records, to be certain... though not at ALL without merit!

Certainly there are... less substantiated claims but these would NEVER get into a true scholarly work... such as mine... without being properly studied and corroborated!

The presence of Malastone in the caves east of here, for example, may seem a solid tie between the region and the legends of the Mkwynn stronghold, but geological facts often have only a post facto connection to lore.  The Crag itself is only a questionable tie to the histories of ancient men!"

In reply to GM (msg # 206):

What is the connection between Mala stone and the M'kwynn?  What are the M'kwynn purported to look like?  What did they do with the stone?  Was it currency, food, a power source?

Also if you may point us to the location of any books regarding the M'kwynn.

Titus turns to Zeke with a slight admonishment, playing good cop.

Tales are living entities and do not pass the ages unscathed.  Finding the source of a tale is like going to a village seeing family resemblances.  Unfortunately this appears to be a remote village where everyone looks kind of the same anyway.  Master Pyke you do have your work cut out for you.

He looks at the old lady with a warm smile.

I do not believe I have heard your name.  You seem to have much to say what is your take on the subject?

/ooc Titus is not trying to hide anything from Brennan he should be easily able to hear Titus voice but it is quiet enough to respect the location.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:03, Fri 17 Jan 2020.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 207):

"To the best of my knowledge, the connection is tenuous at best.  It is said to appear at entrances to the gates of Mkwynn strongholds, likely due to its thermal properties, but that is all."

The old man leaps out of his seat, surprisingly spry for his appearance, and pulls a thin book down from a nearby shelf.

"I keep this handy, naturally, this is my condensed works on the lore of the Castoffs of the Dreams.  Here you will see all of my observations and collected evidences for the Mkwynn."

He hands it to Titus.

"Master Sheeb," the old woman nods.  She stands up, far slower and with more implied gravity than Master Pyke, and shuffles pointedly over to the exact same shelf, and retrieves a slightly larger book that was shelved right beside Master Pyke's.

"THIS," she says as she hands this to Titus, "is my complete works on the subject.  Somewhat less abridged."

"That is not to say," Master Pyke mutters, "More accurate in any sense."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:10, Fri 17 Jan 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 208):

Titus' voice has reverence for those who are clearly well versed in the study of stories.

Both have merit to the storyteller.  I appreciate your assistance in this matter.  Do these books contain any tellings on the Wandering Haunts, their significance, or their motives?

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 209):

"It will, with great accuracy and attention to detail!" Master Pyke nods.

"Or...if you prefer, with great attention to completeness," Master Sheeb mutters.

In reply to GM (msg # 210):

Titus smiles at the two professors warmly indicating both of their values to him  continues holding court

You have been far too kind.  If I may... uhmmm...

He clears his throat a bit and leans forward some conspiratorially.

I have heard tales recently of extraordinary men and women.  Seem to be channeling the first men.  I have heard some say their power is loose in the world again.

Normally I dismiss such claims.  I've been hearing those stories since I was a boy.  Go to enough towns and you see some things am I right?  That being said I did some digging, listened to the stories they told in exchange for drink, news or other stories.

Then I went to see things for myself, and things started to checkout.  Now you don't know me from Ruuk, but if you would indulge the insane rantings of a traveling minstrel.

People are saying that the first men's power has returned.

He judges the impact of this statement.

There is one rumored to be not far from here, bloodthirsty brute, seems to be the juggernaut incarnate.  To be honest I'm not too keen to check this one out myself.  That being said I have seen someone executed for witchcraft, and just before the executioner raised his axe he was assaulted by dozens of woodland creatures... the boy still died though and I was unable to speak to him.  Another town I met a man who... could not stop...

He struggles around for words.

...he was, matrimonially involved with his pig, and refused that anything was wrong with it.  Heard tale he was cursed by a woman who could speak reality.

Is it possible that the first men's power is something tangible, that can be obtained and passed around? Have tales like this happened before?

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 211):

Zeke can hardly keep up with Titus, and loses some of his processing faculties at the mention of a matrimonial pig.

What in the name of all that is decent and true is he talking about..

Zeke reaches over to Titus, and begins thumbing the books provided.

You mentioned Mala stone in the caves to the east. Might you be able to provide more firm directions? We are to be in town a few days, and I find myself in need of sating a bit of curisoity.

How often do you have the chance to sort out an old wive's tale, as it were?

And perhaps meet an old family..

Suddenly aware of Brennan's presence, Zeke looks up, somewhat admonished.

Ah Master Brennan, I trust your endeavors here were more fruitful than the Professor's old tales?

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 212):

Brennan looks up from the book he was studiously not reading and shelves it without glancing at what his hands are doing in one smooth gesture.

"Fruitful in many ways, yes, though I'm afraid I was unable to retrieve precisely what I was hoping to find."

He walks over to the small group and makes a proper introduction with the masters.

"Thank you for taking the time to share you knowledge with my friends," Brennan says with a smile. "I had not thought to consider the old tales of the so-called 'second men' as anything more than simply folklore. You have given me much to think about."

He gestures to the shelves behind him absently.

"Where do you keep your books on linguistics? Particularly those on older tongues no longer in widespread use."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 213):

The Library: Lore Branch

"These tales indeed sound interesting, but they are new to me," Master Pyke shakes his head at Titus.

"And would need thorough detailing to make sense out of," Master Sheeb notes piously.

"....and to separate the underpinning lore from the local fact," Master Pyke adds quickly to get the last word.  Master Sheeb rolls her eyes.

"I have never been to the caves myself," he notes to Zeke, "...and at my age, it is unlikely I ever shall.  However, there are a good number of younger adventurers who routinely take expeditions to the ruins and further East.  No doubt one of them knows the location of the caves."

"And certainly we would be interested in what you find," Master Sheeb says with a nod.

Brennan is given directions by an acolyte on how to find the "Linguistics and Data" branch of the library in Losthelm.

In reply to GM (msg # 214):

Titus nods to the professors.

One last question and then I will give you your time back.  Have you heard any of the tales of Lord Fastbender?  In my days I have never seen a story spread so fast or so thoroughly.  Are there any comparisons to these?  All of my audiences are chanting for him I can't keep up with the demand for his adventures.  What is next for these tales, at what point does it become legend and at what point can I stop making every other story about him?

Frankly, I'm sick of telling them.  Its like singing to children fun for a while...

Zeke steps toward Brennan, allowing Titus to finish his review of tales forgotten with Master Pyke.

<Dark Blue>I am sorry your trip was not fruitful Master Brennan. May I ask what you were hoping to find, and what you are looking for in the lost language texts? Perhaps I have heard tales of these things in my time among the North, as I have the second men. </DarkBlue>

And perhaps there is some overlap in our objectives.

<Dark Blue>When your research here is done, and Master Titus has finished his review of tall tales, we should make for the lodgings Titus and I procured, and discuss our new information with Ciryl. I would hear from the group where we are going next, and whether they would be willing to peruse these caves Master Pyke has spoken about </DarkBlue>

Zeke leans in toward Brennan and whispers

I think there may be more truth to his tales of Second Men than he may ever know..

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 216):

"Hmmmm," Master Pyke makes a big show of rubbing his chin in contemplation.  "Yes, this indeed is interesting, as it reveals you to be newly to our northern borders,"

He raises his hands in a show of peace.

"I do not judge, but we have well documented and very old tales of this figure, The Fastbender.  I am intrigued to learn that they have not yet penetrated further geographically."

"... as befits a more complete accounting..." Master Sheeb nods.

"But yes, you shall find a good and accurate accounting of such tales in my tome.  There are relatively few stories but they are well known to us here."

In reply to GM (msg # 217):

Titus bows graciously and deeply in turn to each of the professors.

You have been too gracious with your time.  I thank you. 

He goes to catch up with the team.  He gets close to Brennan and looks apologetic.

I will need your help...

He looks significantly at the two books he is holding.

...Please.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:12, Thu 23 Jan 2020.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 218):

"It isn't tales I'm after, exactly," Brennan replies to Zeke. "I'm trying to reconstruct a timeline of events, and Losthelm factors rather heavily into it. I am also growing increasingly intrigued by these Second Men. They sound rather like the Chosen to me, and I wonder if they are actually distinct or merely the same thing by another name. I would love to discuss your experiences in more detail."

He nods his appreciation for directions to the linguistics section, but arrests his retreat in the wake of Titus's advance.

"Certainly," he says, clapping the mischievous minstrel lordling on the shoulder. "What've you got to show me?"

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 219):

Titus smiles in a way that literally none of you have ever seen before.  If you didn't know better you would say it was shy... and slightly shamed.  He licks his lips and looks down at the books before continuing.

I... can read... but was never very good at it.  And I'm slow at it.  I'll never be able to get the information from these books before we have to leave.  According to those two professors you have this book which is a shorter overview (indicating Pyke's book) and this one which has more expansive take on them (indicating Sheeb's book).

This book has stories about the second men, the M'Kwynn that Zeke has been interested in, the haunts, and...

At this he smiles broadly and chuckles.

...Lord Fastbender.

His mouth opens wordlessly and closes for a second with an incredulous look on his face.  He places great emphasis on the first word of the next sentence

IF... all of that is in these books, it is possible there are untold secrets we haven't even though of yet in the other pages.

Would you look through these for me?  At least point me in the right direction?

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 220):

"Of course," Brennan replies with a smile. "I wanted to discuss some things I learned about Lord Fastbender with you, as well. For example, the coat of arms..."

Brennan flips through the books Titus has procured until he finds a page on which the sigal is illustrated.

"Not entirely dissimilar to the one we've been using, is it?"

Brennan will help Titus find what he's looking for in the books before heading over to the linguistics area to do some additional research of his own. Once that is complete, he will join the others at the inn and make himself available to discuss what they've learned today. He will take particular care to find time to speak with Zeke, as he promised.

OOC: What are our pair of allied NPCs doing while we're doing all this?
This message was last edited by the player at 23:33, Mon 27 Jan 2020.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 221):

Titus' mouth hangs open in disbelief.

If you tell me this is a coincidence I won't believe you.

He sits and is willing to research with Brennan but as promised his reading is painfully slow when compared to brennan he occasionally will sound a word phonetically here and there.  Once the project is finished, he tells Brennan what inn to meet at.

/ooc: What time is it?

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 222):

Library Branch

Titus, Brennan, and Zeke are free to remain and read as much of the library as their little hearts desire.  If they have no further questions, the masters go back to debating methodologies of loric ontology.

Should you try to walk out the door with the book, however, a very large but calm acolyte will quietly note that it is not permitted.  The heavy staff he carries is the only mention of the consequences.

Inn

Ciryl is soon joined by Bryce and Deev and is free to rest and eat, or chat up the locals as he chooses.

"Place is a bit stuffy," Bryce notes as he is handed a ceramic mug of ale.

In reply to GM (msg # 223):

Brennan does not attempt to remove any books from the library, though he does linger in the linguistics section for quite a while.


He also reviews the documents Titus and Zeke want him to look into.

"We can discuss any of these in more detail later," he says quietly. "My memory is...unusually reliable."

In due course, he is ready to adjourn and meet with the others, where they can discuss the day and their next steps in more comfort.

"Aye, they're academics.  Not usually the same type to turn into rowdy carousers at a bar," Ciryl looks around the establishment before slowly rising from his seat, "I'm not sure how much longer the rest of our little band is going to take on their errands, but if they show up let them know I got everything I needed in town.  Ready to leave as soon as they are.". Ciryl pats Bryce on the shoulder and hobbles his way out of the inn.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 225):

A brief look of worry crosses Titus' face to be quickly replaced by an inscrutable thin-lipped smile.

Great.  I have one last errand to run, I am out of...

He waggles his hand in the air looking slightly ashamed.

Stagecraft.  Even actors need their supplies.  I'm going to see if I can find some items that I need.  Should be back at the inn quickly.  I'll pay our room and board and we can continue onwards to Losthelm.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 226):

Library

Brennan continues to read for a while, careful not to gain the ire of any of the larger acolytes.


Zeke is free to wander or do as he likes.

About

Ciryl makes his way to his cart and begins work on organizing his new purchases.


About

Titus wanders about LostHelm, apparently taking in the architecture.

In reply to GM (msg # 227):

Zeke thanks for the professors and librarians all for their time, and makes for the inn, with tall tales of second men and hopes of learning more from his own explories and drunk bar patrons very much on his mind as he stumbles seemingly unaware past Cyrill.

So much to consider. I can hardly ponder where to begin. And when that's the case, it's best to have a drink.

(Muttering aloud) Best to have a drink.

Ciryl puts his new ingredients exactly where they belong.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 229):

Having completed his tasks and learned much, Brennan returns to the inn. Seeing Zeke at a table, he joins him in his cups.

"You have the look of a man who has learned both much and little, all of it worth consideration," Brennan says. He swirls his glass absently and sets it down on the table. "I do not hasten to add to the load upon your mind, but I am curious: have your travels taken you to the archipelago off the coast of Chal'i?"

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 230):

Brennan and Zeke are presently joined by an unknown young man with dark amber eyes and short hair.

Before they can question him, he raises his hood and quickly lowers it.

You now see Deev before you.

"The horses are stabled," he says, looking directly at Zeke.  "Ciryl were here, but went to his cart I... didn't FOLLOW him, just noticed..."

In reply to Deev (msg # 231):

"Just as well that he's preparing for the next leg of the journey, I suppose," Brennan says. "We will be heading out to the ruins in the morning, anyway."

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 232):

"That so?" Deev's eyes are full of wonder.

"Headed east then?  We know where we're going?  I heard there's little roads go more'n a mile."

In reply to Deev (msg # 233):

Bryce is initially in the lead on drinks, but is soon overtaken by Zeke.

Somewhere around two or three he gestures toward the door.

"Our entertainment has arrived!"

You turn round to see Titus stroll in with his usual swagger.

In reply to GM (msg # 234):

Titus adjusts medium sized canvas sack over his shoulder as he walks in looking EXTREMELY proud of himself.  He flashes you his biggest smile and bows deeply towards the table.  He dumps his burden next to the seat he will occupy and walks up to the bar talking to the bartender in low tones for a minute.  The bartender hands him a bottle dark liquor and Titus pats him on the shoulder.  Titus fiddles with the bottle before returning to the group

He puts the bottle in the middle of his friends and sits in the chair entirely at ease as if he owns the place.

Found us a guide... er well, I know a guy who knows a guy.  He'll be here in the morning.  Not sure how much a guide should cost in these parts but we should be able to cover it.

He looks around

Where's Ciryl?
This message was last edited by the player at 20:38, Thu 27 Feb 2020.

Ciryl continues doing the things an alchemist with a wagon full of alchemical supplies does, completely unaware of Titus's inquiry.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 236):

"Turning lead into gold, one hopes," Brennan replies with a smile. "Tell me more of this guide. He comes highly recommended and asks few questions?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:03, Thu 05 Mar 2020.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 237):

Titus laughs appropriately at Brennans joke and lays a finger alongside his nose to his inquiry

...and he has experience going east, has equipment necessary to get us out of a jam.  Also if we need to get at something that may be buried he seems to be the man for the job.  Figure its good to be prepared.


He hefts the bag

Also got some new clothing to help us advance the narrative if need be.  It will need a bit of tailoring and cleaning but I expect that we needed something than our traveling garb.

Titus will show the team to the room that he secured for them and drop off his bag, he will leave the key with Brennan

I've got one more errand to run, then I'll attend to my duties for the innkeep.  I'll see you all shortly.

Zeke lifts his cup toward Titus and tilts his head slightly toward him in affirmation before resuming his drink.

Best to keep to myself tonight lest I be unmade by his inuqiries.. and this surprisingly stiff ale.

We will be here waiting in various forms of sobriety Master Titus. For tomorrow, adventure awaits.

And the second men.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 239):

Titus is able to capture the interest of the small crowd at the inn enough to earn his food, drink, and lodgings for the night.  These are not particularity interested in tales of Lord Fastbender, one man mutters he's heard them all already.

When the crowd begins to thin, Titus slips out the door on an errand, making sure to place a fresh drink before Zeke as he does so.

For any who stay up late, Ciryl stumbles in quite late and exhausted.

OOC: anything else need doing before morning?

In reply to GM (msg # 240):

Brennan completes his evening and morning meditations, but otherwise has nothing further of note that he wishes to do.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:45, Thu 12 Mar 2020.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 241):

Deev mostly sits and listens to Titus, and Zeke if he talks.

He crawls off to sleep just after Titus heads out.

In reply to Deev (msg # 242):

Titus returns late and silently.  He will be the first to wake in the morning (or wake up with the first of you who is moving around) and be down at the bar waiting for the teams new guide to show up.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:28, Mon 16 Mar 2020.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 243):

Zeke spends the night drinking with and chatting up the locals with derisive stories about the so called "Second Men". If there's a crumb of rumor to be found in that bar, he's going to nibble it.

When last call is made, he'll head to bed, arranging his stones around him as he does.

A fitful sleep falls upon him, with vivid memories of a death of a father unmet burning in his mind. Were anyone else to be in the room with him, they may have been alarmed to have seen the stones now moving centrifugally, and ablaze, above the bed.

FATHER!

*CRASH*

In the minutes before dawn, Zeke awakes in a cold sweat as the stones announce their marriage to the floor, the burnt wood underneath them the only reminder of their fiery affair.

Panting heavily, Zeke makes quickly for the shower.

I need answers. And fast.

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 244):

As Zeke rises from the floor he is confronted by Titus, who silently sprung out of bed, a knife in each hand.  Once he realizes there is no threat he drops the knives from a fighting posture and at queues from Zeke sheathes them.  He puts a comforting hand on his shoulder and escorts him off the room, splitting off to the common area and ordering a huge breakfast.

What did you dream of?  I mean beyond your family.  What about them.  I was... troubled by dreams last night myself.  As they leave the room.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:18, Tue 17 Mar 2020.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 245):

If the dreams of the previous evenings hadn't thoroughly confused and unsettled him, a naked, knife wielding Titus suddenly asking pointed questions from his doorway did nothing to solidify his disposition.

Staggering to his feet and covering his own shame, Zeke tamps his hands downward to let Titus know all is well and the knives may be sheathed.

Bemused at the abusrdity of it all as he collects his bearings, Zeke tosses an erstwhile stray sock to Titus.

Perhaps a sheath for all 3 knives, Master Titus?

As for how much to share, Zeke could not say. Perhaps it was the overt nudity, perhaps it was the kindred spirit, or maybe it was the prospect of finally finding answers and meaning that led him slowly but surely toward Titus, now thoroughly Chilipeppered.

I dreamt of a moment passed, and saw things I could not have seen or known, and which I have never been told, and yet, somehow, I know them all to be as true as the beating of my own heart.

Zeke moves toward the doorway, and steps outward with Titus.

Let's get you a bit more clothed, and perhaps, breakfast, and a review with the others?

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 246):

Titus looks down, shrugs completely nonchalant and at ease naked and gets more clothes on.  he smiles and chuckles when Zeke throws him the sock he easily catches it out of the air and leaves it on the doorknob.

Your not the first to have that dream.  They happen with surprising regularity around here. 

He turns to go get his clothes on.

Tell me what you saw over breakfast.  Our guide should be here soon.

/ooc would I be able to see the burn marks?  Is there enough light?

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 247):

Brennan leaves his room at his usual time and joins the others. Though he, too, is early to rise, he is only seldom first to the table. Such is the nature of his daily meditation routine, and today was no exception. Unless someone is running truly tardy, he will be the last to arrive this morning.

"I hope you all slept well," he begins, pulling up a chair and sliding into the seat. He lowers his voice. "Our friends have again taken an interest in us. They are not moving quickly, but that may change when we find what I'm looking for among the ruins. We should not delay."

He orders a portion of breakfast, and raises an eyebrow at the others.

"Meals don't count as delays."

Brennan tucks the small book he'd been carrying into his cloak and steeples his fingers.

"Now then, to business. What did you tell our guide when you hired him? I would know what we must pay them," Brennan inquires of Titus when he arrives to break his fast with the party. He smiles slightly and nudges the tale-teller's shoulder. "And, truth be told, I'm eager to learn the roles we must play to adhere to whoever you said we were this time."

Ciryl is late to rise and challenges Brennan for the last to the breakfast table.  He arrives still looking only half-awake.  He accepts any breakfast offered with a grunt and nod but makes no specific request otherwise.  When Brennan mentions Titus's likely ruse Ciryl makes a nonspecific grumble before managing, "'m'not pretending y'r shite," grumpily before yawning wide.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 19:18, Sun 22 Mar 2020.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 249):

As Brennan asks the question Titus gestures expansively with a sausage.

Apparently he is just as late as the rest of you... so I have not yet met nor negotiated with him.  He should be brought by a shopkeeper I met earlier.

Titus gives Ciryl a syrupy smile as he grumbles

Morning sunshine.  Sleep well pumpkin?  You sound a bit under the weather.

He contiues to speak while wagging the piece of meat at him.


You... just need to be a loosely affiliated, crotchety, asshole alchemist.  I know this is a stretch for you but see if you can pull it off.

He winks and takes a bite of the meat and smiles satisfied with himself.  He sweeps over to Brennan not giving the alchemist an opportunity for a rebuttal.

Brennan... since you are the only one who knows what you are looking for you get to be the lead.  A rich ponce who has with your head filled of ideas of being able to find secrets in the dirt of losthelm... possibly a lost city

I told the guide to have equipment for excavation... if needed.  Not sure if we are going to need to down, but better to be prepared. 

He points to Bryce and Deev

You two are working for me, we got the lordling this far.  Zeke, you are protection. 

He sits back and tucks back into his second plate of breakfast.

So party dynamics remain pretty typical, just would be good to call Brennan m'lord.

"Working late," Ciryl offers as a mumbled explanation to Titus's taunts, sighing heavily.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 251):

Well after everyone has had time to rise, prepare, and eat a hearty breakfast (for some reason, the locals seem to put eggs on top of everything they cook), a pair of men enter the tavern and Titus waves them over.

The first is largely nondescript portly man with an easy smile and the casual but pushy lilt of a salesman.  He shakes Titus' hand briefly and introduces his companion.

"This here is the guide told you about, name's Merker, and he's trekked East as far as anyone, I'd wager."

Merker is more or less exactly what you'd expect from a guide, weather-worn face and stark simple attire.  He wears his long hair pulled back into a ponytail, thin ragged beard parting around an easy but joyless smile.  He is dressed in a stiff studded leather jerkin and matching grieves over heavy boots.  The thick travel cloak draped over thin shoulders is dotted with melting snow, and is purposefully thrown back to show the loops of rope hanging from one side of his belt and a matched pair of knives from the other.

His most distinctive feature, however, are his eyes.  The right is pale green, and continually darting about.  The left is milky white.

Merker nods.  "That I have."  He looks the team up and down carefully.  "What, exactly, is it you lot are after?  Bit of a... mixed group."
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:38, Tue 24 Mar 2020.

In reply to GM (msg # 252):

Titus shoves the last of his toast with egg on it into his mouth and stands up dusting his hands off on his clothes prior to shaking.

He points wordlessly at Brennan as he chews for a second then puts his hand over his mouth.  He adopts the gruffer tones that seem better accepted in the North.

Good t' meet ya Merker.  That right there is the man in charge.

"I don't mean to be rude, so I hope you'll forgive me," Ciryl chimes into the introductions, food and a bit more time away from bed having returned him to his standard level of grump, "But what exactly do you do here in town?" Ciryl points to the shopkeeper who accompanied Merker into the inn.

In reply to Ciryl Fontaine (msg # 254):

The portly man shrugs.  "Got a store overn' the Lanterns District.  Basic supplies for travel and the like, bought and sold.  Ran into your friend here last night."

He rocks on his heels slowly.

"But, if you're happy with the introduction, I'll take my referral fee an' get out of your way."

In reply to GM (msg # 255):

Deev, wide-eyed as ever, moves slowly around the table investigating Merker from every angle with a leer that would make anyone uncomfortable.

In reply to Deev (msg # 256):

"Manners!" Brennan says, using a more imperious tone than you've heard before. It seems to come with unnerving ease as he rounds on Titus. "This man has performed a service. If you promised him payment, proffer it and let us move on."

He looks past the others and beckons the guide closer.

"Merker, is it? I'm told you know these parts backward and forwards. That you can take us to Losthelm with haste and precision. That you are capable of assisting with an excavation effort, if needed. These are the services for which I extend an provisional offer of employment. Name your terms."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:00, Wed 25 Mar 2020.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 257):

Titus watches the goings on with interest.  As Brennan rounds on him he nods.

If we come to an agreement I'll be more than happy to see to the arrangements m'lord.

In reply to Titus Blackwell (msg # 258):

Merker focuses his one good eye on Brennan.

"This your whole party then?  Do you have gear, horses?  Mules?"

He listens as Brennan, presumably, has someone explain their equipment situation.

"So, the ruins then?  6 people, horses... cart won't make it all the way... sounds like you have stores enough, so we won't need to worry about re-kitting you."

He ticks these preparations off his gloved fingers as he goes.

"So no kit needed.  You've enough horses to carry back some artifacts, should we find any.  I can lead you there, and keep you reasonably safe, show you whatever oddities and histories you want to know, point out where previous digs have been.  I've done a number before, I can supervise, but you'll want to provide your own muscle."

He looks over the group, pauses at Ciryl, then continues.

"Looks like you've got that covered if the big guy and the scrawny fellow can keep a good pace."

He hooks his thumbs into his belt.

"Aye, nothin' much fancy.  Winter not yet at fullest, but getting colder every day.  That and the additional Ogre presence we've been seeing of late.  Adds hazzard pay doesn't it?

But, the last trek of the season should be exciting, no?  I'll guide you there and back, provide information, advice, and a sword for 18 Silver Suns.  That and we split the sales of any recovered equipment 50/50."

In reply to GM (msg # 259):

"I'm looking for a guide, not a mercenary. Or a horse, for that matter," Brennan says, waving his hand dismissively. "I'll pay you 6 silver suns to take us there and 6 to take us back, pointing out dig sites and history as we go. Your split of equipment sales is agreeable, provided you participate in the digging when necessary to extract what we need."

Negotiate + Brains: 2x5


"Now then. If we are agreed, how soon can we set out?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:30, Wed 25 Mar 2020.

In reply to Brennan Otthild (msg # 260):

A smile flashes over Merker's face, and quickly recedes.

"Not thinkin' ya need all the swords you can get betrays a certain inexperience on these parts," he notes.

"But you seem to have a certainty of purpose that has me intrigued, and if you have coin up front that's even better.

You can pay me 8 Suns now, plus another 7 when I get you and your property back safely.  On top of equipment booty, I'll take a tenth of any rewards from the Scholars Guild for your findings."

In reply to GM (msg # 261):

Zeke is taken somewhat by surprise by the table discussions of the morning. Sopping up the remainder of his egg with toast, he lets the bread drip in his hand as he proceses his approach.

How will I get to the caves and convince them to come explore with me, and of the necessity of finding out the truth of the second men and the Ma'la?

Listening casually to the conversation, Zeke is struck that Brennan, all at once, seems to be negotiating, with little care for cost or means, the procurement of an excavation team.

How is such a thing possible, and what would they need it for?

Master Brennan, pardon my interruption, but what exactly are we trying to excavate?

And why are we trying to excavate it?

In reply to Zeke Banorev (msg # 262):

Titus looks at Brennan for acceptance of the deal.

/ooc: How much supplies do we have on hand?  Do we have a bunch of rope and other 'general explorers items'?