For two days, your path has led you through an eternally sunlit land, the now closing orb known as the Companion marking the site of your destination. As you guide your Tuigan roan once more from the well-kept road to allow another patrol of the Hellriders to pass, you feel the eyes from the helmeted knights bore into you. While the road is very busy with carts and groups of local farmers heading back and forth from the hundreds of stone-hemmed fields that run all the way up to the city’s walls, your lone, clocked form draws both surprise and some suspicion.

Shorel noticing the attention from the plate clad riders turns and gives them a friendly bark, the sound much deeper and louder than what was likely intended and startles several of the well trained mounts, causing their riders to suddenly break from the line to avoid a collision. With an inaudible sigh, you know that your very large and friendly dog has drawn even more attention to your presence. You are already slowing when the troupe leader lets out a loud whistle and raises his right hand, the dozen knights slowing their mounts as they fan out slightly to block any easy escape you may have thought of. Raising his silver face-guard, a middle aged man, his skin well-weathered and a slightly greying bushy moustache above his lips, addresses you in Chondathan, the local accent clipped and rigid.

“Ser Darvin of Torm the True” he motions to himself as he watches to see if you understand the language. Observing your smile and nod, he continues. “This road reaches the city of Elturel, home of the High Observer and the Orders of the Companions and Hellriders, what business do you seek upon entering its hallowed walls?”

His grey eyes don’t leave your face, his own marble like as you feel a strange tingling through your body. A less perceptive person may have missed the holy symbol of Torm embedded into the horn of his saddle where he rests one gauntlet-clad hand, but your keen elven senses mean you are well aware that he is channeling his god’s divinity to search your soul for darkness or deceit as he awaits your answer.

Slowly, so as to not give the suspicious knights reason to get twitchy, I raise my hands and pull the hood back from my face, turning my head enough so I am not blinded by staring directly into the Companion. Once done, I then push the whole cloak back past my shoulders so that it pulls away from my body to show that one, I am not immediately armed and two, that I respect their theocratic land by dressing modestly, my travelling leathers covering my entire body despite the warmth.

Bowing my head, I address the already judgmental paladin as I carefully, and slowly, retrieve a scroll from my saddlebag.

"Well met Ser Darvin of Torm the True" I respond in Chondathan, hoping to ease their suspicion while at the same time, I give Shorel a look to settle down and not sniff the nervous horses. "I am Audrianna, an itinerant of Mielikki, who has been summoned to Elturel by Godsword Lorecine for reasons unknown". I hold forth the scroll to one of the nearby knights to check. "I have come directly from Berdusk, a place once my home, where I was given this summons".

I sit back in my saddle and wait for the knights to go over the scroll and mull my answer. I have a feeling this is not the first time I have been stopped in similar circumstances on my trip within the paladin led Theocracy of Elturgard.

As your silvery white hair spills forth from your hood and your fine elven features are revealed, you catch the sound of a few knights suck in air out of surprise. They suspected your form was feminine but was not expecting you to be a lone moon elf woman. Regaining their composure quickly and thanking their chosen gods for the full faced helms, they seem to ease in their own saddles as they look to their leader for his response.

At mention of Berdusk, Ser Darvin's magnificent mustache twitches ever so slightly, his own prejudice showing for your old homeland. Berdusk was the last of the four independent city-states of the Western Heartlands to join the Theocracy over thirty years ago when the lands were plagued by devils, monsters and cruel mercenaries, all remnants from the world tearing Spellplague that struck Toril some ten years before. Even though the city has become an important part of the young nation, Berdusk's strong ties and history to artistic and personal freedom means that the staunch religious code that has swept through the other three cities has yet to find a strong foothold there. Because of this, it is considered by many of the land to be a place of impropriety.

A minute passes as Ser Darvin reviews the scroll, his face impressively emotionless as he occasionally looks up at you. Despite their closed helms, you feel the eyes of the other knights upon you, for while you have made effort to show little skin, your well worn leathers do little hide your overall figure and you hear one or two whispering a prayer to Torm to protect them from immodest thoughts.

Finally, Ser Darvin passes the scroll back to one of his knights, the young man urging his mount forwards slightly so as to be able to pass the scroll to you before stepping back. While the paladin's stony face has not changed, you notice his overall demeanor has softened.

"I have heard the name Audrianna, though it was many years ago when I was still a squire. The Companions, the founding order of our fair nation who rode forth across the land to quell the rising evils that stalked both city and hamlet alike were said to have occasionally made use of an elven guide who had an almost supernatural ability to find incursions of daemonic hordes. But, that was decades ago.." The aging knight's voice trails off as he regards your youthful and diminutive appearance.

"I lent my assistance where I could, but my part was small, your legendary Companions were as great as the stories tell. Only when the hellish forces appeared in remote regions unfamiliar to your people were my skills required." I dip my head in reverence as I speak of their heroes for I know that almost all natives of Elturgard hold the Companions as near-mythic legends.

Returning the scroll to my saddlebag, I look back up to the paladin and address him directly.

"I wish no offence Ser Darvin, but I wish to make my destination within the hour, the road has been long and while it is a divine blessing to your people, I admit to struggling with the eternal sunlight awash in these lands. I look forward to a darkened inn room and warm food. Unless there is a matter of concern to you, I ask permission to make haste to Elturel."

At mention of their great heroes, you see many of the mounted knights stiffen as if standing to attention. Your carefully chosen words obviously having their desired effect, the knights of Elturgard well known for their military pride. With suspicion all but gone about your presence, they turn to see how their leader reacts.

Ser Darvin leans forward in his saddle and removes his helmet and leather and chain coif, revealing short cropped grey hair. Now that you can see more of his face, only his eyes, nose and mouth visible in the steel window of his helm, his features seem overall soften despite his gravelly voice and stature. With a small smile, he nods to you.

"Of course" he voice warmer now that it does not echo forth from steel "any business with a Godsword should not be delayed. I also assume that despite your openness with us, your need to keep moving also stems from likely multiple stops like this one on your travels."

Despite yourself, a small smile pulls at the corner of your lip, the old knight much more perceptive than you expected. Seeing your subtle reaction, Ser Darvin smiles back.

"Too speed your journey and prevent more boorish knights accosting your fairness, please take this as a symbol of trust, you will find your path blocked no further."

As he speaks, he pulls forth a gold-trimmed pennant of the Hellriders and urging his great war-horse forward until he is beside you. Leaning down, he attaches it to the front of your reigns where it flicks and rolls in the light wind. Leaning up again, he looks down to you and again, an awkward look crosses his face. Despite realising you are the elven ranger that was spoken about during the purification of the Western Heartlands, he seems to struggle with your size and age. His warhorse is almost a third taller than your Tuigan Steppes roan and added that he himself touches just over six foot, you are dwarfed and shaded by his presence.

Ser Darvin suddenly realises that he may appear to be intimidating you but looking down to aplogise, he realises that you show little discomfort from his presence. Urging his horse forward and around until he is facing you on your right, he holds his gauntlet clad hand out in respect.

"I mean not to stare mi'lady, the fair folk are not common to our lands, in fact, you are the first I have spoken to. It is easy for us to forgot your immortality, I meant not to look down at you as young woman." Despite his relaxed manner, you sense awkwardness creeping in to his voice as he seems to struggle how to address a non-human woman. His hand now hovers awkwardly as the whole troupe try to stifle their surprise at their leader's sudden lack of confidence.

I reach forward but so that he feels like he is not going to crush my admittedly, much smaller hand, I lean forward and grasp his inner arm, a common greeting up and down the Sword Coast. Once performed, I give him a genuine smile and lean back.

"No offence, greet us as any other who visits your lands and I am sure you will never have to worry. Thank you for the gift and may your patrol find you safely home again."

With that, I give a courtesy nod and urge my horse forwards, hoping to gain entrance to the city that rises up from the hill a few miles ahead. I also check to make sure that Shorel has fallen into stride beside and not bothering the knights.

The remainder of your journey is uneventful, your path taking you through the villages that extend out from the city's walls. Farmers' wagons and a few small traders are mainly what pass you by, most giving a friendly nod to your hooded presence.

It appears that the folk of Elturgard have had to adjust to the presence of the Companion in more than just their sleeping patterns. You notice their crop fields are divided into quite small squares, each one with four large wooden posts at their fieldstone corner. Between them, rolled up canvas sits, a nightly duty to cover the crop from the eternal sunlight above. Between the crop farms, enormous barns sat, larger than you have seen in any other land for none of the farm animals can be left outside, the light affecting their sleeping patterns and even produce, the cows for the first few years not producing any milk.

Passing into the city is smooth, the gate guards taking heed of the flag adorning your mount and even waive the standard entrance fee. Your horse is taken to a nearby stable and you receive a wooden token to keep until your require his services again. With one saddlebag now on your back and the other strapped over Shorel, you find yourself upon a steep street, abuzz with activity as townsfolk rush back and forth. The city is built upon a great hill, defensible but making the lower quarters quite a hike to traverse.

For a human city, it is not the worst you have been in, but despite the wealth that flows down from the many powerful churches, the common quarters are still cramped, somewhat dirty and confusing. Standing in a small square, you realise that the city has changed a lot since you were here several decades ago. What do you plan to do?

Audrianna pulls her hood back, a heavily cloaked figure in a city such as this likely to draw more attention than just a visiting elf. Flicking her loose hair out, the white mess annoyingly bundled into her hood for the last few hours, she looks around for one of the distinctive city guards and approaches. With a smile, she asks for directions to a good, clean inn that has heavy shutters or curtains. Once received, Audrianna shows the guard the summons she has, specifically the seal and asks the guard if he could send someone to the Godsword and tell them of her arrival and where she will be staying. She makes sure to thank them and take note of their symbol of faith so that she can tithe later on their behalf.

On the way to the inn, she picks up some fresh meat cuts and a stew bone for Shorel, the poor thing relying on dry treats the last few days.

At the inn, Audrianna leaves Shorel outside with his treats as she negotiates a room for a couple of nights, a few extra coins to the establishment if her furry companion can be allowed in under the promise he does not chew the furniture and gets a bath. Once done, it is to bed in a darkened room for a spot of reverie.

For the first time in days, you get to enjoy some true darkness to rest your eyes, even Shorel flopping down almost immediately in the middle of floor, the poor beast not used to such conditions.

Hours pass before Shorel's low growl wakes you from your reveries, the tone one of general awareness. Someone is obviously approaching the door. Within a few seconds there is a low knock followed by a strong but whispered voice.

"Madam Elf Audrianna, I am Culstren, squire to Godsword Lorecine and I am here to escort you to my liege. Are you ready?"

"Madam Elf?"

Shaking her head at the the formal but awkward address, Audrianna slides off the bed and stretches as she calls back to the squire.

"Five minutes please, I will join you shortly in the taproom."

With the assumption that that she hears the squire's footsteps moving away, Audrianna prepares herself. While trying hard to keep a positive outlook in her travels, enough traps, treachery and betrayals have kept her on her toes and not to be blindly trusting, even in the most pious of cities. On the upside, assassins generally don't follow orders to head back into open areas.

Unsure of what to expect with the Godsword, a powerful political and religious figure within Elturgard, Audrianna looks at her dusty road leathers and knew that it was unlikely to be considered acceptable. Admittedly, it would help if she knew why she had been summoned, it was only by chance she had been passing through Berdusk when the Holy Harrier found her. The summons seemed like one that was unwise to ignore and her interest was piqued, what would a land of holy knights backed with powerful divine casters need with a wandering swordswoman?

Audrianna sheds the outfit until she is only in her undergarments and the fine silken shirt that sits beneath the leathers. Retrieving a plain pair of trousers from her bag, she dresses in them and again puts on her magical boots. Done, she taps into the magic of her pale green shirt, enacting the glamour ability and changing her plain clothes into a neutral themed uniform, a cross-buttoned jacket and matching pants. Securing her hair into a ponytail with a simple but magical leather thong that is imbued with Shou mysticism, Audrianna makes sure her bracelet is on before exiting. The moment reminding her of when she used the glamour magic once to create the illusion of a full dress and an unseen ward stripped the illusion that left her standing in her shirt and smalls, her decision to go pantsless a poor one. Since then, she wears enough clothes, even if plain, to ensure if the magic is dispelled or someone has the ability of True Sight, she will not be caught short again.

Stopping to give Shorel a scratch behind the ears, Audrianna tells him to stay and that she will be back later. Looking at his sad eyes, she retrieves another bone for him and fills one of her cooking pots with water from her canteen. Happy that he is comfortable and set, she heads out the door, summons scroll in her gloved hand.

The taproom is not particularly busy, the small area mainly filled with trophies and heraldry of the city's armies. Shields, banners, weapons and armour cover almost every available surface making the room feel more like a barracks.

Standing by the door, his eyes locked on the staircase that you descend, a tall, solidly built human stands, clad in rose red vestments of Torm that thread around a brightly polished ceremonial breastplate. At his hip, lashed by a triple wrapped belt, a longsword rests easy, the point just above the ground. The squire looks like to be in his early twenties, but based upon his impressive physical shape and disciplined stance, he is likely only a squire in title, not ability.

As you approach, Culstren bows to you, his head barely lowering to your eye level as you guess him to be at least a foot taller than yourself. As he rights himself, he eyes the scroll in your hand and with a barely perceptive nod to himself that he has the right person, he steps to the side and pushes the door open.

Out on the street, the still ever-lit street, city life continues as it did when you arrived. While the light of the Companion is dimmer near the borders of Elturgard, the City of Elturel is directly beneath the great orb, creating an eternal midday. Culstren sets a fast pace, the squire obviously not looking for conversation as the people of the city move to allow him free space, many smiling, waving or offering a hand sign to Torm as he passes. After almost ten minutes it suddenly seems to dawn on him that his pace is fast and direct as he has led you up some quite step roads towards the Faith Quarter where most of the temples and shrines sit. Looking around concerned to see if he has lost you, his handsome but rigidly impassive face twitches slightly as he sees you are right on his heels, no evidence of fatigue evident in your movement. Happy, he turns and continues his path.

Despite moving out of the lower quarters, both figuratively and literally, you notice that the upper wards face similar issues of cramped streets and abodes. There are some beautiful courtyards and public squares ringed by impressive buildings that showcase magnificent architecture and history but at their foundations, the common elements of human cities persist; refuse, poverty and tiny, squalid homes. Apart from the now occasional regal building, the only real other difference is the presence of better dressed citizens, most in variations of holy garb, and the amount of guards on duty. It appears that Elturgard has long outgrown its walls, a difficult issue for the city as it is ringed tightly by high walls and balanced upon a steep hill.

Culstren veers to the side of what appears to be an administrative building, a plain stone structure of unimaginative design. A narrow, cobblestone path runs beside it, guarded by an iron gate. At the end of the path is a single wooden door painted green. Culstren unlocks the iron gate with a key he produces from around his neck and motions you forward. As you step through, he closes the gate behind you and locks it, the squire giving you a nod to keep going to the door as he turns his back and stands to attention. With little other choice (besides leaping the gate or wall to escape), you make your way to the door, the plain alley providing no hiding spot for would be assailants.

The green door is unadorned, only some ravages of time evident. You do detect a sweet smell coming from the edges where the wood has warped slightly, something akin to incense. With no danger evident and no handle to turn, you knock upon the door and wait.

Before they open the door, you acknowledge that whoever it is, they are graceful and quiet, your almost preternatural senses only barely tracking their movement across the hard floor inside. When the door opens, it is only a crack, enough for you to slip in but without seeing the occupant. While wary, you step in out of the sunlit alley and into a soothingly dim room, polished rose marble beneath your feet and dark stone and timber inlays making the walls. The room is small, only maybe twice the size of your inn room and is largely unadorned except for the burning braziers in each corner, the sweet incense smell now much stronger. In the centre of the room is a single, small round table and two high-backed chairs. A crystal carafe of a clear liquid is flanked by two intricate flutes. There appears to be one other exit in the far wall, a door that blends in quite well to the decor.

The door closes behind you and the occupant steps out and round to greet you.

"It is a testimonial to your sense of righteousness that you have endeavored to arrive so quickly, I offer my gratitude for your presence here today." The voice is like honey, both rich of accent but also a little sickly sweet, the tone difficult to tell if it is truly humbled or slightly condescending.

Your eyes quickly adjusting to the dimmer surrounds, you lay your gaze upon a man dressed in simple, clean white robes, unadorned by any faith. Beautiful is the word that comes to find first, the golden haired Godsword displaying fine features that would usually show some elven heritage but it appears no blood of Tel'Quessair flows through him. There is a radiance to his being and despite a slightly arrogant lilt to his face, his aquiline nose slightly down pointed and his lips curled every so faintly, you find him pleasing to look upon.

Not waiting for your response, the strangely charming man turns and heads to the table, his sandled feed barely making a whisper upon the marble. Taking a seat, he looks in your direction with a slightly crooked smile and motions to the other. Once seated, he pours liquid into the glasses which you quickly determine is just water. Very clean water.

Holding up his flute in a toast like fashion, he speaks.

"To those who walk the distant paths so that civilization may follow in their wake." With that, he takes a sip and looks back to you, dark eyes, certainly not human as a faint violet ring surrounds the iris, search your face for discomfort. Finding none except maybe some wariness to the situation, he speaks again, the reason for your summons apparently not yet on his mind.

"So fair Audrianna, please pray tell, of where have you most recently traveled? There is so much change in the world, I often miss the grander happenings of Faerun." With his somewhat arrogant but strangely appealing smile on his face, he leans back and takes another sip as he awaits your response.

Unsure what to make of the likely aasimar, his strange sincerity or masterful duplicity greater than her ability to read him, Audrianna decides to play the game for the time being, her reason for being here sure unraveled in time.

"My last few months have taken me through many realms but it was from High Imaskar that my return started from." Audrianna decides to be a respectful guest despite the games he was playing and takes a sip from the water before continuing. "It appears on the surface that the rumours are true, the once most hated empire in the known world has returned, Mulhorand blasted from Faerun in the Spellplague and her ancient enemy returned. But, it appears to much different, the Queen kind and wise as far as I can tell and the slavery that once marked the nation is now completely abolished."

To make a subtle point that she would prefer to turn their attention to the true matter at hand, Audrianna places the scroll that was given to her by the Holy Harrier on the table, his seal pointing towards him as she takes another drink from the flute.

"My, High Imaskar, that surely has been a great journey, close to two and half thousand miles from Eltergard by my estimate" Lorecine drawls, completely ignoring the scroll, his eyes locked on upon your face, his smile slowly broadening at your attempts to focus the conversation.

"Such a world you must have seen in your travels, blessed by longevity unmatched by other humanoid races. The Spellplague must have been a least a little interesting to one such as you, entire new nations appearing not to mention the arrival of humanoid race of dragon kin, sure that keeps the banality of centuries at bay?"

Audrianna's eyebrow raises slightly as she settles the finely crafted glass back down, the Godsword's words seeming to be both naive and completely ignorant of the tragedies that the Spellplague brought. Looking at the relaxed host, she assumed that neither was his intention, the question seeming aimed at getting a reaction of some sort, though the reason why yet to be revealed.

"I count not the boons brought by tragedy" Audrianna replies evenly as she leans back, matching the relaxed demeanor of Lorcine "though I imagine the safe walls of faith overflow with new flock in such times? A captive audience brings power, maybe even enough to forge a new nation one might reason."

A warm chuckle escapes the Godsword as a broad smile crosses his face.

"You are not a fan of our fair nation, born from fires of the Spellplague?"

"The intentions of Eltagard's founders should be praised and lauded," Audrianna replies, her tone friendly as she is determined to play out this strange game "their honour and vision prevented the loss of thousands of lives and the fall of many settlements. Your heroes are deservedly praised."

"But?" Lorcine interjected, genuine interest in his voice as he was curious how an outsider saw his beloved nation.

"Despite the noble ideals of the founders, Eltagard was forged in war, where people willingly allowed the trading of certain freedoms in exchange for safety. But now, four decades later, peace has been achieved and one would have to wonder, do the people still view such a trade worthwhile?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:08, Tue 13 June 2017.

The golden-haired paladin sits back once more, his hand on his chin as he dwells on your words, trying to find what aspects you are getting at.

"I find it hard to determine your point Lady Audrianna, do you suggest that our laws and customs are too strict, oppressive even? If so, I don't think I could agree, we are prosperous in food, wealth and faith, our people likely the safest and happiest in Faerun. For such prosperity for all, we only ask people live good, honest lives in service to country and the divine."

Finding the relaxed position uncomfortable, her legs not reaching the ground, Audrianna rights herself so that she is sitting forward to the small table, her eyes staring into the aasimar's, unsure of his reaction to her forthcoming reply.

"I am saying Eltagard needs an enemy to keep the people pious, just fearful enough to accept that walls, both literal and figuratively, are needed. Healthy fear combined with full stomachs makes for tranquil, susceptible folk."

A flicker of surprise followed by a frown crosses Lorecine's face before he regains his composure. Forcing a smile back onto his face, he replies, his voice a little more challenging, a resonance to his words likely born from his angelic blood as he seeks to tear your accusation apart.

"An interesting if unfounded observation, but we have not been at war for almost ten years, no enemy dwells in our midst, and yet, our people seek not to rise up. Our citizens follow our lead because they know a pious, hardworking life is one that has sacrifices."

"I fear that you take the concept of an enemy to literal Godsword Lorecine" Audrianna replies as she takes another draw from the glass of water that is once again in reach. Putting it down, she decides that it is time to end this conversation, to make the Godsword throw her out in rage or to change the uncomfortable subject to something else, hopefully her reason for being here.

"In the absence of an enemy your people can see, you make one they cannot. From town and villages I passed through, to the white walls of this fair city, I have seen hundreds of posters that warn citizens of non-believers that seek to take their freedom, that instruct them to report suspicious activity, whether it be a stranger or neighbour. Others decry entertainers who use illusions and parlor tricks as possible charlatans and witches. There are many more variations I have seen but all are fear-mongering with no real threat detailed."

Before he can reply, she holds her hand up to show she is not done.

"In reply to your earlier question, I admire a lot about your country but I can already see it is not the one founded four decades ago in the fires of the Spellplague."

Audrianna then drums her gloved fingers on the scroll case that rests upon the table, the one that contains her summons and continues.

"So, as I am no use against a constructed enemy that is only in the hearts and minds of the people, I imagine you have a genuine threat you would like me to deal with?"

Lorecine's look of surprise returns despite his best efforts to maintain a calm and collected demeanor. For a moment, you think you may have pushed too hard, your surprisingly candid and subtly aggressive words hitting a sore spot. But, as the moment becomes silent and awkward, a deep laughter spills forth from the Godsword, a pleasing sound of genuine mirth.

"Never have I heard such criticism of my country be put forth in such a delightful accent. Oh to be able to inform my superiors of poor news, confident that my words would wash their anger away with such a warm cadence."

Suddenly relaxed, all hints of arrogance now gone, a natural smile now upon his lips, he leans forth and refills both your glasses before continuing, now blatantly ignoring the scroll that you tap.

"I admit though, I am surprised to hear such cynicism from an elven champion of good. I have done my research, you are figure known for benevolent deeds in a few lands and cities, a compassionate woman who is quick to smile and even quicker to strike down tyranny. How is that one such as you can now find darkness in a land of divine light?"

Taking the refilled glass and nodding politely to the Godsword, Audrianna takes a long sip as she mulls her words, a pang of guilt hitting her. She had been unnecessarily rude, and while the conversation continued to avoid her summons, Lorecine had only attempted polite conversation, despite some of the loaded questions.

"I apologise Godsword Lorecine" Audrianna begins as she returns his smile "my words were inappropriate."

"Tsk" Loresine interrupts. "Do not apologise for an honest answer. I asked a question and I received a reply. It is rare to receive rebuttals of such rawness. It is more refreshing than I would have thought."

Audrianna subconsciously bites her lip, the Godsword's demeanor now open and friendly but she was unsure whether it was a trap. He seemed un-phased by her words now but seemed to want her to continue answering his rather pointed questions.

"Cynical?" she thought to herself. "I have been called a lot of things, but never cynical."

Feeling his stare upon her, the aasimar waiting for his answer, Audrianna decides to try some of the empty wisdom Hawksblade enjoyed forcing upon her.

"I bore witness to the great war of angels and demons that shook Faerun, the event a precursor to the Spellplague. And in that time, I looked into the divine alabaster faces of purity and found only apathy for mortal kind, their actions every bit as destructive as the demons they fought. I know they were fallen, their kind not indicative of all celestials, but it taught me not take things at face value, no matter how pure it seems, after all, the brighter the light, the deeper the shadows."

"Oh, by the gods" Audrianna thinks as soon as the words leave her mouth. She felt shame just for uttering the last line, one she knew her sword had uttered before, but somehow, he did not sound like a smug airhead when he said it. Cringing slightly, she awaits the response.

Lorecine offers a kindness by not reacting to your awkwardness, just nodding along to your words. As you finish, he stands and picks up the scroll case from the table. Regarding it with some intensity, he runs his hands over the hardened leather tube, faint carvings of Elturgard's crest suddenly glowing with a pale yellow light. In the dim radiance of the room, the runes display with startling clarity upon the marble floor and dark walls, the symbols slowly flickering and expanding.

Before your eyes, dozens of images appear over all the surfaces of the room, moving pictures of your travel from Berdusk to Elturel. Upon the roof, you see yourself on your hands and knees in the mud, your delicate features straining as you try to wedge wooden planks under the wheel of a stuck wagon, the elderly farmer and wife nearby looking relieved at their good fortune. On the floor, it shows you at rest beneath a willow, scratching Shorel's ears as you eat an apple, a look of dopey happiness of your companions face.

Currently, Lorecine seems to be focusing on one in particular. In it, you have a youth who had just tried to hold you up on a small lane not far from a small hamlet, dead to rights, your bow at full draw, a bead upon his chest. In his hands, an old crossbow shakes, as he tries to demand you drop your valuables, his faint bravery coming from the hemp hood that hid his features. Despite the land strongly patrolled, there were places where crimes of opportunity could occur, this winding lane surrounded by high hedges one of them. You had tried to talk him down, his fear obvious but he seemed strangely resolute. He was fearful. With a crossbow pointed at you, you had fair justification to fire but your gut feeling told you otherwise. An arrow loosed, striking the crossbow and shattering it in the surprised boy's hands, his reaction slow as you crossed the divide and grabbed him by the scruff. He led you back to where his step-father waited for the goods, an interaction that resulted in you having to help carry his unconscious form back to the nearby hamlet with the aid of the boy. Upon seeing the state of the mother, the bruises and shy glances, the step-father was lucky to only have two broken fingers when he was handed over to a watchman. Your quiet word with the bastard moments before enough to convince him to solely take the blame for the act of banditry.

Many of the other images are mundane, tracing your steps to where you are now, your unhurried and easy manner with the many locals seemingly pleasing the aasimar. Despite your shock at the invasive magic, you are least thankful it seems not to display more private moments.

"It is in moments when people act naturally, unaware of eyes upon them, that one can judge a true character of a person." Lorecine speaks quietly as he continues to glance at the different images, oblivious to your growing discomfort.

"Tell me" he asks now more firmly as he turns to look at you, his handsome features now reset to the slightly crooked smile "why did you answer the summons? You find our nation's sensibilities strange and restricting and yet, I know you diverted from your trip back to Baldur's Gate to answer a random request. What did you expect to hear once here?"

His questions flow into each other despite his even tone and as you stare at him, you find your eyes locked upon his own as his now heady voice fills your senses. You know you should be angry at the situation but he seems sincere, no realization of what he has done is wrong, only genuine interest in your reason for being here. In that moment, caught in a sensation of his naivety about the scrying and his earnest wonder, you feel that it would be a sin to lie as it may cause his radiant face to frown. As you breath deeply to regain your senses, the rich incense fills your nose and everything feels slightly dreamlike. The words are upon your lips and as you go to answer, your mind races, you feel no danger but years of experience warns you that all is not right. In a flash, you remember, this is a Godsword, a powerful paladin in service to the city, not some young, charming priest full of new zeal for his church. In that moment of clarity, the compulsion spell shatters though it seems to not change Lorecine's demeanor, he still stands waiting for an answer with a smile.

Blinking a few times as she stares at the Godsword with obvious shock on her face, Audrianna struggles to find the words that expresses her displeasure while simultaneously not sending her to the pillory. She studies his face, at first assured that his actions were purposeful just to rise her ire for some reason, but as she realises that he genuinely sees no wrong in the spying and compelling of truth, Audrianna takes a few moments to centre herself before answering, allowing her anger to quell.

“I admit, I am asking myself that right now. Was it all a test, the broken cart, the terrified boy? I could have killed him.”

"No" Lorecine replies evenly "Watching natural events play out is a far greater test of character than anything we could orchestrate."

Shaking her head for a moment, Audrianna settles her azure gaze on the aasimar as she continues her own questions, ignoring his request for answers.

"Why the perfidious summons?

She goes to wait to allow him to answer but recalling his earlier words, she adds "And why were you watching me to start with?"

The Godsword tucks his arms behind his back as he cocks his head slightly, that wry smile never leaving his face as ponders your questions, a moment of indecision on whether to answer or push his own interrogation. He errs on the side of diplomacy at this point.

"There was no duplicity in your summons. We legitimately wished for your presence here and we decided to get some preliminary concerns out of the way. Within Elturgard, all citizens may be watched either mundanely or magically as seen fit by a Whitespeaker or higher if there reasonable concern of safety to the Theocracy. You agreed to this as soon as you entered our borders. Ignorance in not admissable."

"Concern of safety? What basi"

The Godsword raises his hand to motion you to stop as he draws forth another scroll from his sleeves. Clearing his throat, he begins to intone in a suddenly deep and serious manner.

"Audrianna of Mielikki, no last name known. Moon elven female, age indeterminate. Distinguishing characteristics: waist length silvery hair, dark blue eyes, non-specked, little over 5' tall, alluring physical beauty, distinctive hawk headed longsword, unique white yew longbow, generally clad in fine leather clothes. Pale unicorn shaped birthmark on right shoulder, small tattoo of Mielikki and Selune on left ankle and small, stylized butterfly tattoo on lower midriff..."

"On midriff? How did you ge..?"

Lorecine places his free hand to his lips to motion you to stop interrupting as he continues his review.

"First recorded appearance in Berdusk in 1384DR as a member of the guard, a one year station to gain city permanency. 1 recorded infraction. Notable actions and appearances: Re-opened road from Berdusk to Amn that ran through the Snake Wood, a truce forged with a resident green dragon. Assisted early Elturgard forces in hunting demons and devils that plagued the land. Unlawfully removed a regional lord on accusations of diabolism, sited self-defence."

Lorecine goes silent for a moment as his eyes search over the page, before pulling forth a second and then a third scroll. Shaking his head, he looks up to your wide-eyed expression.

"If you don't mind, I am going to just provide a summary of the last four decades." Without waiting for your response, he continues. "Within Elturgard and eleven other foreign lands and regions, the one known as Audrianna of Mielikki has been linked to the removal of no less than two dozen officials by either violence or proof of crimes as well as the destruction of numerous powerful aberrations and organized cults and criminal organisations. Collated witness statement and reports reveal that the elven woman is capable of frightening combat prowess, her archery skill slaying man and monster alike with ease. Even in melee or hand to hand combat, the subject has been barely matched across southern Faerun. The capacity for violence significantly increased when in the company of her identical twin, Melissa Mytherin of Baldur's Gate. Subject appears to follow basic laws of the land she is in and has shown to be no threat to common folk but has displayed constant disregard for a nation's laws or status quo."

Finished, the Godsword drops the pages onto the table in front of you as he takes a breath. Sprawled out, you can see an eerily accurate and detailed timeline of your travels written in a fine, spidery script. Taking seat again opposite you, Lorecine takes a long drink from the refreshing water and returns to his more friendly, honeyed voice.

"Of course it is in the interest of the Theocracy to take notice when someone of your history and prowess enters our lands. Do you think we only concern ourselves with obvious threats like enemy spies and insidious traitors? You and your sister are but two of a list of individuals that we keep detailed records of, your abilities enough to cause de-stabilisation in a region if you so wished. Like many of your glory-seeking and adventuring kind, you refuse to swear allegiance to any legitimate government or cause, and so therefore, are an unknown risk. Does that answer your question on our basis for such concerns?"

Done, he relaxes again into his chair as he motions you continue your questions.

Completely off-guard, Audrianna reels at the information overload she had just received. As her mind raced to form something resembling of an intelligent reply, she found only one, petty, thought came to mind.

"Your spy network is working on old information, dear Godsword" her gloved finger tracing some lines on the first parchment.

As he leans in to look, curiosity most likely on his face, Audrianna continues, pointing out a significant detail.

"I had the stomach tattoo removed. Didn't know what it represented so I paid a mage to erase it. Don't want to be confused with any other silver haired elven rangers in the land." With that, she casts her eyes up at his, a smile playing on her lips. She would no longer let him dictate the conversation by keeping her in state of bewilderment. Audrianna's rarely used sarcasm and dryness coming to her aid.

Lorecine just sighs as he leans back into his chair, a slight roll of his eyes as he realizes that you are not going to freely give your answers, his divine given compulsion failing.

"The others seemed equally annoyed, yet surely, you all cannot expect to cross borders at your leisure and interfere in a land's rule without being watched? You should not be concerned, we are quite happy with your first test, our reports of your misguided goodwill holding true."

The Godsword stands again, collecting the scroll case, the runes still flashing parts of your trip across the room, before deactivating the magic. Silently, he approaches the the nearby wall and presses on a panel, a small draw opening where you can see a numerous other scrolls sitting in velvet lined indents. He returns yours to an empty slot, three others still empty. Once done, he takes on a more formal stance again, his hands once more behind his back as he looks to you in your seat.

"Our fair nation is not as enemy free as you may believe, there is indeed a darkness but it is not one of our own making. And yet, this threat, one that threatens the while Theocracy, is one we struggle to understand and manage. Our council is paralyzed with indecision, the requirements of any action having to fit into the strictures of Torm and to a lesser extend, Tyr and Helm."

He begins to pace, his slippered feet making the barest of sounds upon the marble floor as he passes behind you.

"I have need of individuals who are both competent and trustworthy, but are not bound by The Creed Resolute. Our fears however, are that we may expose ourselves to unknown consequences by allowing agents of chaos like yourself into the inner workings and secrets of our nation. We need your experience and unique outlook but you are an unknown threat. You must be tested so that we can sanction your duties to us. You have passed one test, but more I need and they must be done blindly on your behalf, your own faith in Elturgard to do what is right paramount. Are you ready to begin the next step?"

As he finishes, he stops behind his chair, hands upon the high back as his golden eyes bore once more into you.

While indignation should have flooded through Audrianna, the aasimar's presumptuousness in direct opposition to her more carefree nature, she finally realised that despite his overbearing actions, he was hiding genuine concern for his nation. Likely, he has never had to question the direction of his beloved Theocracy and due to both his blessed blood and high-ranking in both church and state, has probably only had to speak to inferiors, people who must follow his words. Audrianna finally realising his tone was truly without malice or pointed judgement, he just honestly did not know how to speak with someone out of a pre-defined social and power structure, decided her standoffish attitude was not going to make any ground here.

Looking into his eyes, his handsome features set with a rigidness that belied his earlier cockiness, Audrianna felt her decision was likely already made. She had wanted to return to Baldur's Gate before the winter, her last trip keeping her away for almost two years. She had missed her sister and wanted spend some relaxing time in the grand city, a chance to create some new leatherwork designs based on her recent travels as well as transferring her many journey notes into a new almanac. But despite her stinging criticism of Elturgard at the start of their conversation, some of it already justified based on their heavy-handed spying and manipulation of her and others, she held to her statement that there was still much to admire about the nation. While there would always be the poor and unfortunate like she saw on the way up through the city, in general, Elturgard's people seemed happy and safe, their communities close-knit and their bellies full. She could only count Cormyr as nation where its majority of citizens were more well-off. Audrianna did feel, with rare cynicism, something she only now knew she had due to the aasimar, that she would see Elturgard's light fade in her lifetime, but she would do what she could to prevent it as long as possible.

"Very well, Godword Lorecine, I will accept that the Theocracy of Eltugard has it's citizens best interests at heart and so, will agree to prove my trustworthiness to you. But," Audrianna stands from her seat and pulls her necklace forth from beneath her jacket, the wood and silver symbol of Mielikki proudly presented, "if at anytime, I feel that I am required to perform an action that is in direct opposition to my own core tenants or sense of right, I will walk away. If you are willing to take that risk in me, I will take the risk in seeing out your request in blind faith. Do we have a deal?"

With that, Audrianna holds her hand out across the table to shake in agreement. In her mind, this is a terrible idea done for the right reasons. But in reality, she has had far worse interactions with government officials over the years, many thinking adventurers to be expendable and without morals, sacks of gold thrown at her with barely a word but to go slay something unpleasant for them.

The Godsword dips his head down to your outstretched hand, a single brow arched, but he hears the sincerity in your words. He pulls hihis right hand free from behind him and grasps your hand. Even through the thin leather of your gloves, you can feel a warmth from his touch, his hand enveloping your but not crushing it.

Content that you have committed to his cause, he motions to the single other door in the room, opposite of where you entered.

"Please, it is time to meet the other two individuals that have heard Elturgard's call and have been found worthy. The three of you will be meeting the next challenge together. So follow me if you would and I will take you to your personal quarters that you may use while in Elturel."

With that, he strides past you and opens the door, a long corridor stretching out beyond where numerous closed doors line the walls. He stops momentarily to ensure you are following before he continues his path. You are led through a dizzying array of hallways and sub-rooms, each decorated with an array of banners and military icons of Torm. Councilors, attendants and divine adherents pass around you, each staring at your passing, whispers chasing your back about your presence. Most are words of curiosity, only a few somewhat insulting, their fears that you are a corrupting influence.

Eventually, you pass out into a courtyard, as you realize that the area that you passed through was a row of interconnected buildings, a majority of this ward of the city one enormous maze of civic buildings. The courtyard is small and private with an unadorned fountain in the centre and a couple of stone benches circling it. A few flowers dot the ground, pushing up past the old cobblestones. At the rear of the courtyard is several doors, one open where you can see a single bedroom beyond.

"Your room is on the left, there is no key needed here. You and your allies will have privacy, no guards will stand in this area. However" Lorecine stops and allows the more stony facade to fall over his face again as he points to several doors behind you "we must protect ourselves and the city and so, there will be a station of elite guard in the rooms beyond. They are equipped with magical artifice to quell any trouble."

With his lecture done, Lorecine nods silently to you, the previously talkative paladin now a man of few words, and leaves out the door you entered, apparently your tour complete.

Alone, you are unsure how long you are expected to wait, concern for Shorel in your mind. But even as you dwell on how to retrieve him, you spot his head pop out from behind a bench before he trots out to you, a large steak in his drooling mouth. Seeing your disapproving look at his easily bought loyalty, he drops it and pushes it towards you, the sad-eyed beast knowing full well you will not take his prize.

"Tis' yours Shorel" Audrianna says to him in mocking annoyance before giving him a scratch behind the ear. "Apparently they were not going to take no for an answer if you are already here. Either that, or the Godsword had high opinion of his diplomatic powers."

With no-one obviously around, she makes for her provided room.

As you approach your room, your near-supernatural hearing detects movement from the chamber with the open door. What sounded like whispering prayer stops and you hear footfalls approaching the open portal, a strange shuffling sound accompanying the movement.

Before you step up onto the slightly raised landing that circles the courtyard, a figure steps out, your arrival piquing the interest.

Despite yourself, one that is rarely impressed or intimidated these days, you stop as what appears to be an armoured angel steps out into the light of the courtyard, the main garden being open to the sky so that all you stand there may see the Companion's glory. At first impression, you liken her to your old friend, the Angel-Servitor of Selune, Asiyra. Pale silvery white hair that matches your own falls around a face of sculptured beauty, while a magnificent pair of white wings sprout from her back. The armour, delicately detailed, is crafted from Elysian bronze and looks menacing while still enhancing of her tall, statuesque physique. But that is where the comparison ends, for despite the angelic, classical beauty that she and Asiyra shares, there is an intensity that burns within the eyes of the woman who stands before you, an unwavering stare that seems to burn deep into your soul. Despite Asiyra's legendary fighting ability, unmatched by any mortal, there was a grace and gentleness to her, a presence that both inspired and drew people to her. But now, you sense every part of you is being judged, scored against some hidden record, as her steely gaze takes stock of your stance, state of your clothes, and unblinking stare back at her. Despite your lack of fear of her, your stance easy and breathing easy despite the charged situation, you sense she is unimpressed. However, it is hard to truly know, she has an impressive poker face, not even a twitch of her mouth giving her agenda away.

Apparently finishing her stock of you, she silently turns on her heel and re-enters her room, the door closing behind it. Despite her voice bare a whisper, you hear her return to her prayers, your surprise coming that they are spoken in Draconic and not Celestial. Alone again apart from Shorel who has greedily swallowed his stake and now gone to lie by the fountain, his head resting on the stone as he lazily laps at the water, you enter your room and find the equipment you left at the inn now upon a small dresser. The furnishings are sparse but the cot has proper furs and a goose-down mattress. In the corner, a small shrine has been set up, a grey cloth covering a table with some unlit candles and a censor. It appears to be non-denominational. Through the stone wall, you can hear the ongoing prayer of the angel woman, her voice husky but rhythmic despite the low tone and find it surprisingly soothing.

Audrianna looks around the room, the furnishings more than enough for what she needs. Heading to bed, she pulls the furs off, the additional covers not needed as she was used to sleeping out in the elements, and places them in a pile on the floor. Happy that Shorel now had a comfortable bed, she changes out of her glamoured clothing and into some more comfortable coverings, her interview part seemingly over. With a finely crafted pair of buckskin pants and matching lace-up sleeveless vest now worn, Audrianna heads back out into the courtyard with a small book in hand and takes a seat on one of the stone benches. The last few days had been long, the eternal sunlight quite draining but refreshed from her recent reverie, some quiet time to read a book she picked up while passing the through one of the Abeir transplanted countries recently.

"Daardendrien Medrash's Lives of the Twelve Dragon-scales", a biography of a dragonborn champion of Torm who sought to emulate the deeds of his ancestors in the new lands of Faerun. It appeared to be a solid piece of history about the mysterious dragonborn as well as providing some fascinating tales of myth from their ancient days. Audrianna had not been about to spend any time in the new nation of Tymanther as she rode back from the returned High Imaskur, but she hoped the book would prepare her for when she inevitably drifted east again and explored the predominately dragon-born nation. She is happy to sit and read for a few hours, assuming someone will let her know when her skills are needed.

A little over half an hour passes, the background noises of the rest of the civic complex slowly fading into a barely noticeable drone as you rest easily upon the bench. Shorel is at you feet enjoying the warmth of the sun, his eyes closed as he dreams of the many plains you have crosses, his powerful hind legs kicking away.

Despite her attempts to be unobtrusive, you clearly hear the door to the angelic woman's door open and her steps circling behind you. You can tell she still has her beautiful but dark-hued armour on by its tell-tale clinks. Thinking she has not been detected, the woman stops while still behind you and you hear the unfurling of her great wings, likely to both stretch them after being in her confining room and to gain some warmth from the twin suns above. Obviously content, she appears in the corner of your eye and takes rest on a bench, her dark eyes once again boring into you. She also has what appears to be a long glaive in her hands, the shaft resting across her lap, the head covered in a thick, leather sheath. After a moment, her eyes drop slightly, and her face softens but her attention on you remains, it becoming obvious she is waiting for you to finish your reading.

Audrianna closes the book and wraps the leather cord carefully back around it to prevent damage, her backpack often a shambles, and places it down beside her on the bench. Turning her attention to the woman, she offers a friendly smile despite unsure how it would be received, the angel appearing to be quite stiff in her interactions before speaking, some levity in her voice. This entire nation a little too serious for her liking.

"Audrianna, itinerant ranger of Mielikki and deemed a good-intentioned but misguided force of chaos by the Theocracy of Elturgard. I hope you received a more favourable assessment than I."

An icy expression meets your words but it only holds for a moment or two, the angelic woman dipping her head a little more to hide a small smile that pulls at the side of her ruby lips. Regaining her composure, she once again lifts her eyes to yours, her dark beauty drawing you in as she finally speaks.

"Names should not be freely given, they are deep and personal and can give power over oneself. Only an inferior coughs up their weakness so quickly, to capitulate their position of power and wait for judgement like a mutt on its back."

The angel's words are husky but rich, a mixture of accents that tease you ears, even your grasp of languages unable to pinpoint her mortal ancestry homeland. They are also tinged with steel, a challenging tone that you are unsure whether it is testing or threatening.

"The Platinum Dragon teaches that conviction and character can be forged in battle." She continues as she stands from her seat, the hooded glaive now vertical in her hand, the length greater than her frame. "In fighting evil, combat reveals your desire for true justice, what you are willing to sacrifice to see his will done. And in sparring, blades against comrades, trust and honor is found. Will your hubris of pride see you win to gain recognition of your prowess or will you take it like all grand lessons in life and teach another of your vulnerabilities?"

There is a long pause as the two you stare at each other, your peaceful afternoon now one of more lectures and divine rhetoric. You find her hard to read, much like Lorecine, for while her words could certainly be taken as hostile, as well as insulting, you sense little malice in them. And, more importantly, is she expecting you to fight her?

"Stand Audrianna of Mielikki and take your weapon of choosing. The Godsword may have deemed you worthy of righteous responsibility, but they do not speak for me. Fight, and earn my name or return to whence you have come, I will tell them you were found wanting."

Well, that answers you last thought about her intention. She seems waiting for your answer.

"No" Audrianna's answer simple but firm.

Your answer does not seem to rattle the woman but it seems not enough to dissuade her. She approaches your seated position, her wings flaring slightly, increasing her already impressive stature and repeats her request for you to rise, the end of her glaive striking the ground as she finishes.

"No" Audrianna repeats, this time in the language of dragons. And just in case there is a misunderstanding, she repeats once more in the tongue of angels. The smile Audrianna returns to the glowering angel is still genuine, no mocking in her expression.

This time, there is a faint facial tick, the angel's mouth pursing for a moment as she realizes her attempt to awe and frighten you with her presence seems to fail. She steps back and looks you up and down one more time, her dark eyes taking in the soft leathers you wear casually and your regal and defined features.

"You do not fight?" She asks, some concern growing in her voice. Looking around, she looks to where your door is open, you gear against the bed frame including your small viol. Her eyes lock on it for a moment before turning back to you, once again taking in the supple curves of your body and your smiling, undaunted face.

"Oh" she says suddenly dejected like "you are a lyricist, a dilettante who believes that a smile, a bit of flesh and a song of hope upon her lips can sway a battle instead of actually offering real aid to her companions or community. Why would the Godsword Lorecine send for one like you?"

Audrianna laughs at the words, a warm, dulcet sound as she stands from her seat before turning slightly to face the bench, the angel still in sight.

"No, I am no bard, but I think it is not quite the insult you were going hoping." Audrianna replies warmly as she pulls at a charm that sits on her bracelet, the tiny silver sword suddenly growing to full length as she places it upon the seat. "I would be a contented woman if my lot in life was little more than wandering place to place, entertaining people and seeking a peaceful existence, no need to carry a weapon or cause bloodshed." As she continues to speak, Audrianna continues to remove charms until the bench has an array of weaponry upon it, no less than half a dozen implements of war on display.

Finished, Audrianna turns back to the woman and bows.

"I need not your approval, and I still give my name freely. But I will not fight you. I already have to use my weapons more often than I like, against enemies both humanoid and monstrous. I refuse to start what should be a cooperative relationship with violence. You see purity in it, I foresee possible begrudgery and unhealthy competition. So, unless you plan on striking at me anyway, there will be no fight this day."

The angel's eyes drift to the bench of weapons, each one a masterpiece of aesthetic beauty and killing power. As you finish speaking, she considers your last words for a moment, her grip tight on her glaive but decides against pushing the issue. She returns to her bench and sits, once again watching you with a look of indifference.

"It must make your travels difficult, especially in towns and villages." Audrianna calls over as she returns her weapons to her bracelet.

At first, the woman doesn't take the bait of your open question but eventually, with your eyes on her, she decides to answer.

"The wings?" she replies flatly.

"No," Audrianna returns, "the challenging of any and all who wish to know your name. Introductions at at a feast or gathering must be fraught with peril, and I imagine the first date is very awkward." Knowing full well the woman seemed likely to not appreciate the humour at her expense, Audrianna still pushed on a little but making sure her tone was not too mocking, something more pondering.

"What if I was a mage, or worse, really a minstrel, would you have still insisted on martial combat? Or would I have been able to choose my weapon, a musical challenge, my viol against a heavenly being's voice? Inquiring minds must know."

You swear you feel a burning sensation as the angel's eyes bore into you with a renewed intensity but despite herself, once again, she seems to struggle to keep the well practiced icy facade up under the assault of your sweet voice a smile appearing on her face as she turns away.

"Of course not. I challenge not to bully someone but to test their resolve. But I do not do so to those who are not beholden to the blade, it would be cowardly and prove little." She stands once more as she speaks, her husky voice low but clear in the courtyard.

"I am Zakora Nox, Arbiter of the Platinum Dragon" she nods as she greets you. "My challenge to you was because I had heard of you but were not what I expected. I thought maybe you were either an impostor or that you were actually a useless bard who had built up a legend about herself and was frightened of being revealed by a real opponent. I sense that I was wrong both accounts."

Before you can ask your first, obvious question, she gives a genuine smile, the action heightening her already breathtaking but sculpted features to a level of pure beauty and replies first. "I thought you would be taller."

"I get that a lot" Audrianna replies as she steps forth and offer her hand, wincing slightly under the surely supernatural strength of Zakora's grip.

"You have heard of me? Have we crossed paths before?" Audrianna asks enquiringly as she returns to her bench. "I admit that I do not recognise your name and I would certainly remember if I had seen you before. Are you a native of Elturgard?"

Zakora seems to soften slightly overall, and she too returns to her bench, her wings once again folded behind her. Resting her weapon against the bench, she turns her gaze to the small fountain as she tries to remember details.

"No, I am from Amn, more precisely, the military city of Eshpurta. I assume you are familiar with it as you re-opened the old trade route through the Snakewood that connected the city with Berdusk?"

She waits for you your nod before continuing, her voice almost distant as she speaks, the act of sharing uncommon for Zakora.

"I briefly heard your name then though I was a child. The merchants were quite happy with a new trade route but some of the military were concerned about having another flank to defend, despite Berdusk never being aggressive state. But really, that was neither here nor there, it held little interest to me as a child."

She turns away from the fountain and once more lays eyes on you, your glare softened but her face back to a blank slate.

"It was not until a decade and a half ago that I heard your name again. The description enough to know that it was the same elf who had struck a deal with an ancient green dragon to allow safe passage through the Snake Wood all those years ago." Zakora again pauses as she collects her thoughts before continuing.

"I was in the town of Ilipur that sits on the Dragonmere, tasked to track down a man who had stolen a valuable icon from the Temple of Torm in the Amnish capital. Some senior members from the church had gone ahead, Vanguardiers, and I was to catch up and assist their interrogations if the man could not be found. But he had been found, the thief now a respected councilor representing the Low Ward. My two superiors, men of considerable experience and power, were on the road out, the icon in their possession but no prisoner. They tried to lie to me, champions of Torm actually reduced to lying to a subordinate for they were shamed by their failure to arrest the thief. Do you know that was?"

While Zakora's voice was even and quiet for most of the speech, the last question became suddenly quite pointed as she searches your face for recognition and finding. She pauses, waiting to see if you will respond.

As soon as Zakora mentions of the religious icon, Audrianna knew where the story was going but was curious about her role in it. But, she had never regretted her decision that day and decided that she was not going to lie about it now.

"I remember Floric, a good man who knew he had done wrong and had strived to learn from his past."

Audrianna looks to see if her endorsement of the man bothered the angel but she flinched not nor gave away any of her thoughts. Sighing silently, Audrianna continued.

"I came to his assistance at behest of those who harp, an organisation I assist from time to time. He had arrived in the trade city and had quickly accumulated some wealth by the sale of a holy item. He had used it to buy his way onto the local council taking up a seat that represented the poorer folk of the city. While his path to power was dubious at best, he had genuine regard for his people and was blessed with vision and the power of words. But, he had regretted his actions that got him to the city and now more independently wealthy, he reached out to re-buy the relic so that he could return it to the church. A sale was arranged but the delivery was intercepted and stolen by a powerful gang who both ran the streets of the poorer area but also had connections with merchant lords. Both groups did not like the positive changes he was passing into law for his constituents and tried to blackmail him with the item. It was there that I was ca...."

"You became his bodyguard for the meeting to arrange the acquisition of the icon in exchange for a hefty gold donation to the gang for them to go away. Did I get that right?" Zakora cuts you off as she pieces together her own memories of her investigation of what went down. She nods, partially in apology for interrupting you but also to show that she is not quite in the dark about the matter before she continues for you.

"The deal was rejected, they wanted his cooperation not his gold and things became heated. They likely attempted physical violence to prove their intent and that resulted in five of them dying in that room to you blade. That night, many witnesses reported seeing Floric fleeing through the streets with a silver-haired elf, a running battle through the Low Ward that resulted in the death or serious injury of another two dozen known members of the gang. Floric disappeared for a number of days and in that time, much of the thieve's guild was dismantled one member at a time, like someone was searching for the leader. Suddenly, a powerful lord and successful merchant upped and left the city, selling his assets by proxy and heading far away, Sembia by my investigation. With that, Floric reappeared, safe and sound and was able to suddenly leverage more resources for his people from the council. Floric's success in gaining them both financial infrastructure and safety from the criminal element in their area saw him elevated as a personal hero, the people petitioning his position be given for life. It was strange though, Floric never mentionioned a silver-haired woman who seemed to make a lot of it happen for him. Quite a selfish glory hound one would assume."

"Not at all" Audrianna replies diplomatically, refusing to allow Zakora to stroke her ego "it was the arrangement I made with him. In those few days, I truly saw that he was a good man and that the best end result for his people was that the focus stayed on him. Adding my involvement would have just drawn focus away from what was important, that they had a rarity in Floric, a smart and driven man who was more interested in their well-being than his personal power."

"Hmm" Zakora adds unconvinced. "For a "good man", he resisted the command of the Vanguardiers to accompany them back to Amn to face judgement for his heretical act when they arrived a few days later. In fact, he tried to bribe them with the relic and a donation of gold to the church, hoping they would turn tail and return without seeking justice."

In fact" Zakora's words suddenly finding the steely tone she had when she first spoke to you "he turned his bodyguard upon them when they refused his bribe, these pious champions of the faith set upon and defeated by an elven woman, their shame heavy due to being driven from the city.

You," she points directly at you as her eyes flash with accusation "you, a woman with no ties to either the town or the church, stepped in on behalf of a criminal and brought down two of the most powerful champions of Torm in Amn. It was was shameful and scandalous. I entered the city and sought answers, my investigations and interrogations revealing much of what had occurred in the days leading up to my arrival, but you were gone, a ghost in the wind."

So much for bonding Audrianna thinks to herself as she receives the spray from the suddenly riled angel, the event apparently a sore point for the woman. Hoping to set the record straight, unsure if the woman would even believe her, Audrianna keeps her tone even, her answer as non-defensive as possible.

"Floric did indeed resist the command to allow himself to be arrested by the Vanguardiers, his decision backed by me. His offering was no bribe, he genuinely wanted to return the relic, it was actually already boxed and being prepared to be sent back to Amn. The gold was a donation, though I can understand the confusion of intent. They claimed the gold and relic but refused to allow him to walk free, he needed to feel their justice in Amn. Floric pleaded his case and more importantly, gave them proof of corruption in their church, his discovery of it causing him to be beaten and threatened by purifying torture by the Templemaster. He fled in fear and took the relic as both monetary safety and spite of his once superior. They did not like what they read, I suspect the words reinforcing suspicions they already had for it spurred them to once again demand he surrender so he could swear his case to the Priest-Inquisitor. It would have been a death sentence. He refused and they tried to take him by force. They had no jurisdiction in the foreign city and he had more than paid his dues, the act of your champions would have been a great blow to the people of the city. I gave them one warning and they blatantly ignored me, seeing no threat in a small elven woman. Trust me, I showed them more respect than I received, their strikes not designed to subdue me. It took some convincing at the point of a sword to get them to finally leave, with treasures in hand, and not return. They finally conceded that we would not submit to their rule and promised that the matter was settled, his crime against Torm absolved. Is that the story you got?"

That same intense stare from earlier bores into you, her trained eyes picking up every subtle motion of your face and body as you return her look with cool regard, conviction strong in your own defiant stare. Time seems to stop as the small courtyard becomes heavy with tension, Shorel waking up and letting out a quiet growl, unsure whether there is danger. You begin to suspect that you are going to get your fight with Zakora anyway.

Preparing to speak to break the tension, you do not get a chance as you hear another bedroom door open, the third summoned individual stepping out onto the landing, their motion stopping as it appears they are about to interrupt a full blown brawl.

Your gaze falls upon a small fellow, a distinguished male gnome whose large eyes stare out at the two of you from behind his spectacles. A neat, white goatee twitches slightly as he sizes up the situation as he brushes a tuft of equally white hair back under his artisan’s cap. While a little surprised at the situation, fear doesn’t pull at his features, and instead, he takes a seat on the landing and pulls out a small brass smokeweed pipe and ignites the end, a little puff of white vapour suddenly floating up to the sky above. He seems not concerned about the brewing situation and just relaxes with a smile on his face as he turns his face back and forth between you two, waiting for someone to break the ice.

The gnome’s presence seems to break Zakora’s built up aggression, her face softens as she politely returns his smile, the angel quite skilled at hiding her discomfort at being caught getting emotional. She heads past you, stopping for a moment as if to say something but seems to think better of it and continues to the gnome. She stops briefly to introduce herself before excusing her presence so that she may pray in privacy. In mere moments, there is a lightness to the courtyard again, a tranquillity that is carried by the twinkling waters of the fountain and the faint aromatic scent from the gnome’s pipe.

Turning his full attention to you, the jovial chap gives you a knowing wink before he casts his eyes to Shorel who is watching him with one eye. The gnome lets a couple of low sounds, wordless but vaguely guttural and Shorel responds immediately by wagging his tail. A few more sounds follow before your dog barks a few times causing the gnome to smile broadly, a little chuckle escaping his pipe-filled mouth. Seeing your eyes on him with some inquisitiveness, he shakes his head casually before addressing you.

“Worry not friend elf, he speaks well of you.” His voice is deeper and slower than what you are used to from a gnome but it is friendly in its tone. “If an animal speaks well of his master, then that is person you can trust. It is a method I find truer than any soul gazing of a divine champion.”

With that, the gnome leaps to his feet with surprising energy despite his more middling years and approaches, his small hand out in an offer of greeting.

“I am Dankip Buckleberry, a shortened name to be sure, but I have learnt that most of you tall folk do not require the five to ten additional middle names in greeting that we favour. I am unsure of what the Godsword has in mind for us but I imagine it will be quite the tale to tell in the future.”

As you finish introducing yourself and Shorel, your conversation is interrupted by the entrance of several older men in ceremonial armour, their polished breastplates emblazoned with a symbol you don't recognise, a gauntlet grasping the blade of a downward pointed sword. In all, four men stand to attention at the edge of the garden, their craggy faces in broad smiles, something you had not expected. As they appraise the two of in attendance, they turn their heads to acknowledge Zakora as she steps out from her room, their noisy armour announcing their presence. She makes her way down to where you and Dankip now stand and await for them to address you.

A bald giant of a man, his face nearly unseen due to his bushy beard, steps forth and gesturing broadly with his large hands, welcomes you.

"Welcome friends of Elturgard, I pray that your short stay has been comfortable." His voice fills the courtyard easily, his Cormyrian accent obvious and rich. "We are the Vindicators of The Order of the Gauntlet, a recently formed militant organisation that seeks out tyranny in all lands, not just our own. We are made up of many of the faiths that call Elturgard home and while we seek to be an Order without borders, we hold the light of this fair nation highly."

As he announces his affiliation, the three members behind them raise their gauntlet clad fists to their chest and bow their heads slightly. They again take a more formal stance but their spokesman turns his head them and tells them they can take a seat. Each one looks relieved, the youngest of the three likely in his sixties and they retire to the stone bench that Zakora used earlier. Once they find space, they nod their approval for the introductions to continue. Turning back to you, the bearded man smiles broadly again and continues, his hands still waving about with every word, their motion drawing the attention of the gnome, his small head following them like Shorel to a treat.

"I am Roekann, once an adventurer like yourselves, putting sword to evil and warming the beds of...." his voice suddenly trails off, his momentary reminiscing causing a cough from his companions behind him, bringing him back to reality. If he is embarrassed by his faux par, it is well disguised by his beard but you do see Zakora's eyes just bore into him, something you are quite familiar with now. Ignoring her silent critisism, he gives the gnome a wink before continuing, Dankip quite entranced with the larger than life warrior.

"Ahem, anyway, as I was saying, I know the value of those who wander the lands, righting wrongs and doing what is right no matter the personal cost. So, in light of that, we are to direct you to the township of Boareskyr Bridge, a small settlement five to six days ride to the north. The small settlement is now administered by Elturgard but is beyond the light of the Companion. While Godsword Lorecine sees this as a test, I believe that genuine investigation is required at the caravan town and I am quite confident that you three are an excellent choice. Now let me see..." Roekann pauses as he pulls forth several scraps of parchment, holding them up as he flicks he gaze between them and you three.

"Zakora Nox, I presume" he says looking at the taller woman to your side "Celestial-blooded Arbiter of Bahamut, a famed seeker of justice across the Sword and Dragon Coasts, no man nor woman escaping your relentless pursuit. It also says that you can see into the very heart of a man and see the sin that weighs upon them, no matter how pure or debased they are. Interesting. Can you read my hea..."

"Gluttony, lust and fading pride" Zakora interrupts without missing a beat, her rich voice completely deadpan as she manages to make Roekann's smile disappear for a moment before he bursts in uproarious laughter.

"You have already delved into my heart I see, you do not trust us here in the city?"

"No," Zakora replies, still deadpan "no special powers were needed to divine your hubris', just the use of my eyes and ears."

Roekann's laughter stops just as his three colleagues behind them lift their hands to the mouths to "couch", their wrinkled faces alight with humour. Beside you, Dankip is truly struggling to also maintain his serious look, as his shoulders shake with internal laughter.

"Ah yes, well, anyway, onto the next" the slightly deflated paladin utters, his feelings only mock hurt, well, mostly. "Dankip Buckleberry, a devout follower of Lathander who has dedicated his life to perfecting the mysteries of artifice to aid and heal those around him. Apparently, while noble in ideals, several towns and nations have shown concern for the methods used in their practice. I believe the word "bombs" are recorded on many letters to the Morninglord's church."

This description causes Dankip to beam with pride, the gnome removing his hat, soft white hair falling forth as he scratches his head in nervous appreciation. Despite her best efforts to maintain her icy facade, you catch Zakora glancing down at him with a look of bewildered wonderment. Seeing your twinkling eyes catching her, she shoots you a look before turning her attention back to the paladin.

"And lastly" Roekann booms as he shuffles the papers around, one large one in his off-hand that he keeps glancing to, a wry smile on his face. "Audrianna, the moon elven ranger who calls no nation home and reputed to have tracked much of Southern Faerun. Reportedly a gentle and kind woman whose companionship is sought by noble and commoner alike." Seeing your eyes upon him, Roekann clarifies. "Non-romantic companionship, as in, well regarded as a boon companion and trustworthy friend."

Seeing that you are not entirely convinced about his edit, he smiles as he turns his attention to the larger piece of paper.

"Oh, and a wanted woman. As in, a fifteen thousand gold piece bounty upon the capture of the silver-haired hellion known as Audrianna of Mielikki for crimes that involve but not limited to; assassination, treason, heresy, assault, robbery, immodesty and corruption through wanton and carnal wiles."

The courtyard falls silent as he reads out you list of crimes from the wanted poster, Dankip looking up at you with open-eyed wonder while a thin smile appears on the aasimar's face, her eyes judging you as you stand caught off guard.

"May I ask from where this wanted poster was recovered from" Audrianna asks, a tinge of blue burning her cheeks.

"Saelmur that sits upon the Lake of Steam" Roekann replies with some interest, obviously wanting to know what happened.

"Oh!" Audrianna replies with sudden levity, suddenly relaxed at the situation "Yeah, that makes sense. All good." With that, she makes it clear that she will not reveal more, a smile back on her face as she shoots Zakora a playful and slightly flirty wink and kiss.

Zakora's eyes widen in shock for a moment before she realizes that you are mocking her. Resetting to her smooth, unemotional marble like gaze, she turns back to the Roekann who seems to have suddenly lost his concentration.

Realising he is not going to get more of the story behind the wanted poster, he sighs loudly and puts it away, apparently unconcerned with the implications it posed.

"As I was say, the three of you are to travel to Boarskyr Bridge via your own means and complete your test. We would hope that you are near ready to depart. Any questions?"

He looks at the three of you who all have a confused look upon your faces before Dankip raises his hand. When acknowledged by the Paladin, he asks the question you all had first and foremost.

"Good sir, uh, apologies. Good Vindicator Roekann. By what form will our test be? Are we to meet someone or look into a particular issue? You mentioned an investigation before, what is of great concern to the Light of Elturgard?"

As Dankip finishes, both you and Zakora nod slightly in collaboration. In return, Roekann's smile gets even broader, something you thought not possible, the paladin having far too much fun at the situation.

"What test provides the answers at the start. You have all you need, travel to Boarskyr Bridge and succeed in the mission. No more, no less."

Not one to put her hand up to ask permission, Zakora goes to speak, some frustration evident as her stance hardens and her feathers bristle but Roekann holds his hand up and continues in a more serious voice.

"Yes, this is a test but the reasons are more than just wasting your time. We believe there is something worth your time there but we do not want to bias your views or possible investigation. This is one of the reasons we have called for individuals of your unique talents and outlook, to maybe see things in a light that we cannot. So, I apologetically send you there blindly, to act on behalf of the Light but not beholden to the hierarchy. Perform deeds that are ignoble or against humanity though, and you will be disavowed and charged like any other. Any other questions?"

Before any of you can protest or answer, he nods and seems to decree the conversation closed, turning to his colleagues and moving for the exit. As he reaches the door, he turns to you all, each standing a little dumbfounded at the turn of events and speaks once more, some of the friendliness returning.

"Your mounts are in the stables, fed and ready with provisions and a small pouch of gold for any expenses. There is also a signet ring in the pouch that marks you as agents of Elturgard though I expect you to use your wisdom on when it is appropriate to use. If this could be resolved with official ranking members of the country, we would not need you. Good luck and may the Companion's Light always warm your soul."

With that, he is gone.