The ground floor of the Speaker's Palace, a grand and imposing building compared to the rest of the architecture found in Ten-Towns, was now home to a number of refugees who had nowhere else to go. Some had fallen on hard times in Bryn Shander, while some were from some other Ten-Town worse off. But here they had at least some amount of warmth, and the little food the city could spare. It was natural that is was somewhat crowded now in the wake of the most recent storm. Previously the Town Hall close by had served a similar purpose, but the communal rooms had needed to be vacated in lieu of official gatherings.

For most, getting an audience with Speaker Duvessa was a lengthy and involved process, But after aiding her and Sheriff Markham in the case of the captured Red Wizard's simulacrum, Squire Khulekani, Mallory, and Rhydd were not most. The Sheriff was coincidentally present in the halls of the Speaker's palace and would prove to great aid, stressing their importance to Duvessa's secretary so that an immediate meeting could be arranged as opposed to one days down the road. It was therefor not long before they could enter Duvessa's office in the second story, and they were of course welcome to bring anyone along.

The office was spacious, decently warm, and pristinely decorated. Paintings of landscapes in the Dale, one of Kelvin's Cairn and another of a waterfall best guessed to be in Hopswood, adorned the wall while the furniture was elegant and dignified. It was reminiscent of a modest noble's room in one of the larger cities along the coast.

The Town Speaker sat behind her oak pedestal desk and immediately rose, tossing her blue robe across her diminutive form. The brunette appeared sharp and shrewd to most, but there was no denying she was an abnormally small woman. "Please, have a seat," she told her guests and gestured to a set of chairs and a sofa, "I shall have some tea brought in. In the meantime, do enlighten me as to the purpose of your visit."
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:46, Tue 16 Apr.

The last time Mallory had been in the Speaker's Palace had been a less-than-pleasant experience.  She held no ill against Shane herself, in a manner... but the recollection of traumatic experiences and torments in the holding cells down the main corridor were impossible to shake.  The young noble's dark, tired eyes lingered to down the length of the hall toward where she'd last known Dzaan's Simulacrum and, despite the general quiet or idle mutterings of locals in the air, all she could hear was the echoes of lines from the Hsao Chronicles and the wheezing words of forgiveness and curses alike.  Though a Diviner like herself was always looking to the future in one manner, she so often found herself deeply anchored to the past...

But the present moment certainly needed to be attended to.  As the group arrived in the Speaker's private office, Mallory offered a polite curtsy as per usual and accepted the offered seat.  She didn't fancy herself the leader of their odd little troupe at all, but sat front-and-center all the same; the visit was her idea and intent in the first place.  "I appreciate your time, Madame Speaker.  When last we parted it wasn't entirely on the best of terms, so I'm grateful you're willing to entertain my presence yet." Mallory made quick work of the pleasantries and moved right to the heart of the matter before tea would even have the chance to be set to steep.  "My company and I return from further north and have traveled up through Ten-Towns beyond Icewind Pass.  We have news of events through Caer-Konig and Caer-Dineval, as well as general information on others who have put their attention onto Ten-Towns recently.  News I felt it would be quite prudent to share with you, given your role within the larger community.  I have also brought a small donation of supplies - grains, preserves, and other foodstuffs for the good of Bryn Shander.  It's not much, I admit, but I'm sure anything would help."

Such matters surely could have been conducted in a written missive delivered to the Sheriff without needing a meeting, that was for certain.  Indeed, Mallory's demeanor showed there were other matters on her mind as well, which she spoke to after taking a moment to collect herself with a sigh.  She held herself in her usual prim manner but there was no air of pride in her posture - no looking down her nose at the Speaker in silent judgement as she had in passing when last they spoke.  Nor did she simper - her head did not tip downcast and meek, but she held Duvessa's gaze directly in earnest.  "As well... I understand it may be of no worth to you, but I feel that I owe you an apology."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:08, Tue 16 Apr.

Wide eyes of sea green took in the furnishings as they were lead through the Speaker's Palace.  She had fallen in with the right crowd.  There was little doubt about that.  Or so went the thoughts of Tympani Major.  Even more impressive than the building and its trappings was the way in which the waters of the bureaucratic moat had parted to allow them passage - without even muddying the soles of their boots.

Important people snapping to with their arrival.  Offers of tea.  And comfy seating to accommodate her delicate bottom.  Tympani scooted herself up to a seat at the front edge at one end of the sofa.  It was front row seating for the performance of the almost nearly, although nicely Regular-Sized Speaker Duvessa.  And, as Mallory spoke, the reasons behind this group's preferential treatment grew more and more readily apparent.

The unfamiliar faces in the room was welcomed and proper introductions were made as Duvessa primly took their hands and names. "Duvessa Shane, and it is my pleasure."

The Speaker of Bryn Shander was not one who made her emotions apparent on her face, that much was clear as Mallory gave her opening. Still, her impassivity was not one of indignance or arrogance, but one born from patience and poise. She and the Neverwintan noblewoman was alike in that way. "I cannot accept your apology, for I know not for what it is issued. It seems we are of two minds concerning our last meeting and parting," Duvessa said, having found her own seat opposite the small table a maid had arranged with sweetened herbal tea. "And you are thanked for your donation. Not by me, but by the people in need. Now speak your news. I am aware of some of the troubles festering in Caer-Dineval, and have recently received writings of the Duergar problem Caer-Konig resolved. Although, the latter is troubling as it was unfortunately not an incident isolated to Caer-Konig. Speaker Trovus is also, despite his better nature, chronically tardy. If you come bearing more recent developments I shall be greatly appreciative."
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:11, Tue 16 Apr.

Duvessa's gracious refusal of an apology was met with a gentle, if somewhat rueful smirk on Mallory's part.  The proper thing to do when given such a gesture would be to let the subject fall by the wayside with no more said, but she didn't feel like she could do that.  There was a difference, after all, between what was proper and what was right.  Such thoughts had been mulling within the young noble's mind since the moment they set out from The Spire and she didn't feel she could truly keep them to herself any longer.



She cast a glance to her side at Rhydd and sighed knowingly.  "Well, I have been told by a fine judge of character that I altogether think too much.  So perhaps I am merely preoccupied with being in my own head.  But, please, indulge me." She had to impose upon Duvessa's patience but did not do so without cause.

"We sought out the lost mercenaries that Dzaan sent to their doom in the icy wastes, in pursuit of his coveted tower.  The very same mercenaries you solidly refused to offer even a moment's care for.  When you refused to so much as consider helping them... on one hand, I understood your position in terms of pragmatism.  I understood but I could not agree.  In my own mind, I judged you callous and selfish.  By your own words, you judged me as naive.  But I, and my dear allies, found those lost mercenaries."  There was quite a considerable 'I told you so' in the matter, but it wasn't Mallory's to be had.  "We... found what remained.  You were right.  I was naive.  Reckless.  Even with my companions' outstanding abilities, we faced a multitude of dangers beyond what I ever dared imagine and nearly died five times over.  It was pure luck that saved us in the end.  Had you done as I asked and committed any of Bryn Shander's men to my cause, it would have ended in disaster.

I don't regret my choice to try and help.  Nor have my experiences dampened my charitable spirit - quite the opposite, really.  But I misjudged both you and your wisdom, and I am grateful to have lived long enough to regret it."  It was only then that Mallory bowed her head in genuine deference to the good Speaker herself.

As Mallory began explaining, Duvessa would soon nod her head as she realized their difference in views. All the same, she allowed Mallory to finish before speaking again. "That I was right and you were wrong has little bearing on my judgement of your character. Quite the opposite, in truth. While I hold that you were naive, which was what I tried to stress in the moment and similarly don't regret, you were also brave and selfless. Furthermore, it pales in comparison to the aid you lent me in the interrogation.

Does that clear things up?"

This message was deleted by the player at 17:08, Wed 17 Apr.

It had been a very interesting conversation.  And it was not yet even over.  And if the show lacked for popping corn there was at least a very pleasant sweet tea of the herbal variety.

The list of Questions to Ask Mallory had now gotten longer.  Tympani sipped more of the tea.  Her green eyes observed the conversation through a rising mist of herb-scented steam.  Very interesting.

"Indeed.  Let us move on, then, to business." Mallory nodded simply.  She could belabor the matter further given the teachings her father had impressed upon her about holding oneself responsible to one's own faults.  But, at that point, she felt she'd just be wallowing in melodrama.  The Speaker had indeed been gracious and now that Mallory had gotten her woes off her chest, it was best to leave them behind.  "If I may borrow your wall a moment?"

A suitably bare gap amid the furnishings and paintings did the trick as Mallory rose to stride over, already in the process of undoing the pitch-black neckerchief she wore beneath her collar.  A suitably dramatic flare was all it took to whirl the fabric outward into a broad, dark circle that met the wall and instantly shifted with a vertigo-inducing plummet inward.  Where once there was a bare section of wall now sat a deep, dark tunnel laden with a pull cart, various bundles and bound packages, and a sizable pallet heaped with burlap bags.  "As I mentioned last we spoke, my talents are yours to purchase.  While I don't speak fully for my companions, they have broadly agreed to my company, thus any deals I make are surely theirs to profit from as well - something you should keep in mind where budgets are concerned.  Should you have some tasks in need of skilled hands...?"

The young noble let that linger where it was as she stooped to climb into the tunnel - it was on the squat side at only three feet across its widest point, which left her a bit hunched within - so that she could hoist various bags out to the office floor just beyond.  Heavy satchels full of grain, seed, rice, and assorted dried spices.  Sides of salted, dried meat and hefty bones for the stewing.  Stout earthenware jars firmly plugged and sealed - a common sort for fermentation when it came to storing pickles and preserves of all kinds.  A good gallon's worth of honey and its comb within.  Several pounds worth of foodstuffs weren't much in the grand scheme of things, certainly not when there was an entire town to feed, but it would surely help fortify Town Hall's soup kitchen a while longer yet.  Though Mallory had the task well in hand, she certainly wouldn't turn aside a bit of help with the lifting from any of the strapping fellows and folk she held company with, were it offered.

As she worked to unload goods, she continued on.  "Caer-Konig seems a fine place of sorts, at least with the good intentions of its Speaker.  Trovus--" Mallory still couldn't quite believe he was really in charge there, to be frank "--has his heart in the right place, but his drinking may well be a very immediate problem.  He made mention of the Duergar matter, though it's difficult to call it 'resolved', per say.  Apparently, when cornered, the lot of them inexplicably committed suicide rather than be captured.  Whatever their goal was, one way or another, remains unknown and may yet be a trouble down the line.

"Caer-Dineval, meanwhile, is a far more pressing issue.  In recent days since we left Bryn Shander, I've come into contact and contract with various members of the Arcane Brotherhood.  Dzaan and his Simulacrum were but one member, though the other - Vellynne Harpell - proved herself a far more benevolent benefactor.  I visited their Host Tower in Luskan and did what digging I could; while the Brotherhood has eyes upon Icewind Dale in the broad sense, it's only because some of their own individual goals lay here, not because they hold any particular interest in the region or Ten-Towns.  They all seek a particular Netherese ruin somewhere in the tundra, each for their own purpose.  Madame Harpell claims to wish to use the ruin's secrets for the good of Ten-Towns and I'm inclined to believe her." she explained at length.

That said, there are two wayward mages who remain and one who is most assuredly a considerable threat.  The lesser of the two is one Nass Lantomir - Madame Harpell's former assistant turned current thief.  I've already agreed to keep an eye out for her myself.  The true threat, however: a Tiefling by the name of Avarice.  She has apparently taken over the castle of Caer-Dineval.  The entire place has become a near ghost town and those who do remain say that the Speaker has fallen ill, owing to his lack of appearances of late.  Given the warnings I've gathered about Avarice?  If the Speaker is not in cahoots with her, then he is most assuredly dead.  Avarice seeks the same ruins that every other member of the Brotherhood here in Ten-Towns has, along with a tome known as the Codicil of White - a holy scripture of Auril's faithful.  Madame Harpell insisted that Avarice has no concern for Ten-Towns or its citizens... which I take to mean she will not hesitate to wreak havoc if it suits her goals."

Almost as an afterthought, she piped in at the end.  "Oh, and there is a Reghedmen tribe of cannibalistic Lycanthrope kidnappers sworn to the dark god Malar in the woods just south east of here, by the by.  I believe you should have been alerted of them already, but better safe to mention it than sorry to not have."

---

Mallory donates 3 of her 5 GP worth of sundry Trade Goods to Bryn Shander.  Given that things like 1 lbs of wheat costs 1 CP, she's donating A LOT of food.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:26, Thu 18 Apr.

Should it be necessary, Duvessa would call upon some personnel downstairs to collect the sacks of grain. In addition to being far more than she had anticipated, it was a rather neat trick, this hole. This group continued to pleasantly surprise the Speaker, and she told them as much.

"Indeed, Trovus's affliction is tragic," Duvessa said first and foremost. "He wasn't always this way. For a while, when he lived in Bremen off the bottle, he was one of the most admirable individuals I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I hope he finds it within himself to reverse course.

I am aware of the troubles in the Caer-Konig, and we have suspected the Arcane Brotherhood has gotten a foothold within the keep for a while. So far, we are treating the entire organization as a hostile entity much due to the actions of the Red Wizard and a former member of theirs, Vaelish Gant. While I would normally advice you to not become invested with them, insight into their operation will be highly valued going forward." She leveled her stare at Mallory, hoping her implication was clear.

"It does, however, currently take a backseat to the two other threats you mentioned – the Tribe of the Wolf and the Duergar. Sheriff Markham is actively working to prevent the former from escalating and has told me your initial reconnaissance when you rescued the captured trapper has been invaluable. Another measure to your capabilities. So far, we have issued a no-trespassing law on the perimeter and are cooperating with Good Mead to facilitate a diplomatic solution. There is precedence with the Reghed tribes, although I fear the window is rapidly closing. In the case of breakdown we are prepared to muster armed action. As for the Duergar, we have suspected reports of their presence in Lonelywood and Easthaven as well – skulking invisible beings. Their intentions are mercurial, so most think them Ghosts or some other ethereal presence and we have not yet been able to determine their motives or the location of their base, if any.

I have summoned the Speakers to an extraordinary Council, where we shall deliberate upon many of the matters mentioned. As I have previously indicated, there is a fracture within it, but I hold out hope that we can continue to put our differences aside and cooperate in this time of need. It shall be interesting to see if Speaker Crannoc meets, although I suspect not."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:48, Fri 19 Apr.

It was irresistible.  Not just a mysterious hole in the wall, but a  mysteriously Magical hole in the wall.  The Nice-Cup-of-Tea was left behind, precariously balanced on the arm of the sofa.

"Ooo."  With fingers laced together behind her back, the halfling peered in from one side of the opening.  And now it might be mentioned that curiosity had often been spoken of in sayings of common wisdom.  Whether said wisdom was sage or not was a debatable matter, but that in this case, that curiosity produced results unforeseen, was not.  Within short order Tympani found herself the courier of a sack of grain with unspoken orders to deliver to an unoccupied space on the floor.

"Ummmm ... cannibalistic Lycanthrope kidnappers," she echoed through the grunts and groans of physical exertion.  "Is that kidnappers who eat people?  Kidnappers who eat wolves?  Or kidnappers who eat other lycans?" she asked, seizing upon a tiny, random detail from a rather extensive narrative.  And now, having found herself unexpectedly but fortuitously involved in the transfer of goods from the Wondrous-Room-In-A-Scarf, she felt at liberty to wander inside - for a close up look at the interior, at least, if not for a second load of goods.  "Though, I suppose, given the nature of Lycans," the halfling added, "simply eating anything that they can get their hands on could rightfully be called cannibalism.  Except maybe chicken.  Can you imagine?  Werechickens."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:52, Fri 19 Apr.

"I've no interest in joining such an organization and they too made it quite clear they had no interest in recruiting me." Mallory almost sounded amused at that as she thought back on the turn of events.  Among nobility, having one's companion extended an invitation instead of both was frankly a proverbial slap-in-the-face level insult to the person not invited.  Still, she hadn't been cast out of the Tower, so the potential for becoming an insider remained.  "That said, I do have every interest in furthering use of their facilities and answering to Madame Harpell should she call upon my services again.  The membership of the Arcane Brotherhood - at least on a surface level - appears scattered and unfocused.  Frankly, it hardly seems like half of them even like each other.  They may yet consolidate themselves into something more dangerous but, for the time being, there seems to be... wiggle room.  I expect to be in fairly regular contact with a pen pal or two among their ranks."



The young noble herself momentarily paused and stared off into the near distance as her imagination puzzled together the very concept of Werechickens, and she couldn't even begin to suppress the shudder such an idea caused.  Toril would never survive such a calamity.

"Kidnappers who are themselves Lycanthropes - Werewolverines, specifically - who have devoured those unfortunate folk they captured." Mallory clarified on the subject.  "The Reghedmen tribes are varied and numerous, but this particular group has been taken over by those who have sworn themselves to the god of beasts, Malar, and been transformed because of it.  When we encountered them before, we were almost able to convince the non-Lycanthropes to let us go peacefully.  There's some rift in the ranks, to be certain... they are afraid of what their fellows have become.  But even they fell in line quickly when their leading tribesmen ordered it.  There was an unfortunate amount of bloodshed; we thinned their numbers before escaping."

Duvessa's mention of potential diplomatic efforts with the hostile tribes was met with a welcoming nod from the young noble.  Even the Lycanthropes themselves had been mollified by the idea of one of their hostages being able to help them all hunt for food rather than just eating him, so there was still potential for peace even with those who had welcomed Malar's curse.  An unsteady peace, perhaps, but better than open aggression against such a foe.  Ten-Towns, by and large, would be broadly helpless against Werewolverines and even less suited to handle an uptick of Lycanthropy amid their population.  "Is it wise to gather the Speakers together though?  With so many enemies about and the roads being so dangerous to traverse...?"  Likely little choice, though.  Messenger bird would be too slow in the constantly shifting yet perpetually bad weather, and Ten-Towns surely didn't have the resources for shared magical communication even among its leaders.

Tympani's investigation of the strange tunnel Mallory had magick'd into existence yielded a few simple observations outright.  The interior was pitch dark yet with a faint glimmer to its surface when the light from outside or Mallory's ever-lit Lantern Rod glanced off its interior.  It felt perfectly solid as stone yet was made of some kind of unbelievably luxurious black silk, the likes of which she'd surely never known unless she had a hobby for jaunting into the Ethereal Plane in search of Phase Spider nests.  The dimensions of the space were a bit cramped for a Human like Mallory but downright spacious for the likes of Tympani - three feet at its width and eight feet deep.  Near the back of the chamber sat a battered old hand cart one would normally expect to see used to haul firewood or animal feed, and it was loaded with particularly well-organized and bound boxes and parcels that looked like they'd been given special attention to their handling.  They had labeling that was little more than a string of numbers on their sides, all in the same tidy penmanship.  Amid the boxes sat a wrapped bulk that looked to be some kind of storage chest that had been covered up intentionally and a stout, iron safe bound with multiple solid locks; of all the items present, that one seemed to be the most heavily secured.  It was also labeled on all sides with dire warnings in multiple languages - even Draconic - that all seemed to indicate the same thing: that exposure to whatever the safe contained was extremely hazardous to one's health and warning against opening it.

Yet, at the very back of the tunnel laid a particular bundle.  A heavily shrouded shape, only about as big as Tympani herself, wrapped in oiled tarp and cord, with a small leather backpack similarly bound atop it.  At a glance, it might've been just another load of goods but, with further scrutiny... it looked very suspiciously like the sort of binding one would see carried from the healing houses toward the graveyards, born aloft by those with dour faces and a shovel...

However, Tympani didn't have the chance to get more than a few steps into the tunnel with her interest leading the way before she was met with Mallory's gloved hand outstretched before her.  The young noble cleared her throat primly with an obvious intent to dissuade their newest companion from prodding too deep and, with smile and gesture equally gentle, urged the Halfling away back to the task of moving foodstuffs out onto the Speaker's floor space.

"As for the matter of Duergar--" she shifted general attention back to the discussion even as she motioned to usher Tympani's curiosities away "--some of my companions have just returned from Lonelywood.  There were apparently some recent murders, though the source is unknown.  If you wish to speak with them yourself, you need only ask for a young Half-Orc woman named Moyrah, who is currently staying at the Geldenstag.  Just let her know that I sent you and she's certain to cooperate with any questions you may have."   she gestured out to her gathered allies in the office itself.  "As for us, we're headed to Easthaven next.  As I've demonstrated prior, mere things like invisibility, illusions, and solid walls are of little concern to a Diviner's gaze - should it be of interest to you, I'll keep my eyes and ears open."

A thought momentarily occurred to the young noble as her dark eyes drifted over the varied paintings that decorated the room.  "On an unrelated note - do you happen to have a proper map of the region I might borrow for a moment?  I would like very much to confirm a few locations in more than just my mind."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:47, Fri 19 Apr.

"Most certainly," Duvessa answered, choosing to deal with the map first. It was a useful tool for further discussion, after all. Rising, she headed to a drawer and retrieved a case bearing the heraldry of Bryn Shander, black antlers above golden wheat. From it she produced a state-of-the-art map and unrolled it on her desk.¹

She hovered beside it, allowing the rest to rise to find a standing position. "Only thrice in my time as Speaker has an extraordinary meeting been called, this included. I would not have done so if I did not deem it absolutely necessary. And yes, I am familiar with the Half Orc you speak if. I expect her report from Revel's End immediately after this meeting."

---

¹ Refer to this map. It is the same you have been issued by Vellynne earlier.

Whoops, I'd forgotten Vellynne had given us a map.  No worries though; it's easily played in.

---

As Duvessa's map was laid out, so too did Mallory produce one of her own to set out side-by-side.  She scrutinized the two for discrepancies and was satisfied to see that they were nearly identical - if anything, her version had been more heavily altered by her own hand and Vellynne's notes alike.  That seemed to satisfy the young noble's interest and she offered a grateful nod to Duvessa.  "Do you happen to know of a 'Karkolohk', and its location?  Somewhere around... I think about here?" she gestured vaguely at a southwestern portion.  "During our recent trip, we encountered a trio of rather amiable Bugbears who spoke quite highly of such a place as some sort of trading hub.  They shared their map with me as well, but too briefly for me to recall more than a few scant details... and their penmanship was frankly lacking, to be perfectly honest." she remarked as she withdrew her Emerald Pen from within her coat's lapel.  "Will their leader be present as well at this meeting of the Speakers?  Chief Yarb-Gnock?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:28, Mon 22 Apr.

When they were directly compared, it was soon apparent just how accurate Vellynne's map was. The main difference between it and Duvessa's were the sizes, with the official map of the Speaker being nearly twice as large. It therefor also had a few extra locations, such as more detailed keys for the Dwarven Valley to include the Daledrop and Bruenor's Climb. Karkolohk was however not present.

When Duvessa was prompted on their inclusion on the meeting of the Speakers, all she could manage was a baffled stare and a blink as she wondered if she was being played. ". . . no," she opted to answer earnestly. "Goblins from Karkolohk continue to roam with little regard for rule of law, with raids on caravans being the reason we have issued a requirement of guards on larger transports. They are declared a hostile entity, although not one warranting immediate action. Chief Yarb-Gnock has not yet responded to my letters, and sending diplomats is also considered too great of a risk. Unfortunate, but expected. Goblinoid presence has been a constant in Icewind Dale for centuries, even if their patterns of behavior have somewhat changed with the onset of the curse."

"Yes, Stormheart here did mention there were Goblin raiders about." Mallory nodded as she jotted on her map further to add what she could of extra information from Duvessa's map.  Far from an uncommon event practically anywhere in Toril, it seemed; whenever there were Goblins about, mayhem always followed in some manner.  She had quite a few positive encounters with Goblinoids within the safe confines of Neverwinter, but she wasn't so sheltered as to be dumb to the risks of those outside civilized society.  "The way the Bugbears spoke, however, made it seem as though Karkolohk isn't entirely unified behind banditry.  At least, they personally weren't part of any band."

Once she was satisfied with her additions and updates, Mallory deftly re-rolled her map and tucked it away safe within her satchel once again.  "I admit, I'm terribly curious about the whole affair.  Though even I'm not so naive as to go strolling up to the front gates of a Goblin den, bold as brass.  The Bugbears we befriended may be a useful in for such endeavors, but I think I'll investigate at safe distance for a while first."

"I daresay I've about expended my news thus far, Madame Speaker.  At least that which is relevant to your concerns.  Is there anything you're in need of the likes of us for, keeping in mind that we'll soon be setting out for Easthaven?"

"No, that will suffice," Duvessa said at the conclusion of the meeting. Unless any of the others present would like to extend it, she was prepared to show them out. "Thank you for your time. I will accompany you to speak with my clerk, and we will arrange compensation for the grain you have donated. It is not our funds that are lacking, it is the opportunity to spend it. Therefore, should you be able to arrange more, be it regularly or otherwise, I am eager for us to strike an agreement."

---

Tympani expressed some interest in the Bugbear map, so I'll post it here: https://i.imgur.com/LErap3J.png. She also requested that Mallory Minor Illusion a visual of it, although I will leave it to her to make that same request IC.

"Did you know," the halfling began as they filed out to the clerk's office, "that bugbears can write much better if they trim the fur of their hands.  It's true," she said with the fullest of earnesty on her face.  "But no.  They value vanity over clarity of communication.  Little wonder they never get very far.  Don't build much.  No great bugbear histories.  Just because they like furry hands."  She chuckled.  "Furry hands."

"By the by, Mallory, have you ever try this trick?"   She put a fluffy piece of fleece between index and middle fingers, slapped the back of that hand into the palm of the other: smak*smack.  Then she pointed the two fingers and their downy charge at an empty piece of floor nearby.  The translucent image of two maps appeared, each side by side.  They were distinctly recognizable as those just viewed in the Speaker's office - the one belonging to Mallory and the official one brought out by Speaker Duvessa.  The only oddity was that they displayed as if from a very low angle, and this regardless of from what place one adjusted one's position to view them.  It was a halfling's-eye view.  The same one that Tympani had had standing at the end of the table.  "Think you could bring back the bugbear map that way?"

Though Mallory had intended the food as a genuine donation of charity, the offer to be compensated for it wasn't without appeal.  Were Bryn Shander in more dire straits she would have refused outright, but the insistence that their coffers were full while their larders were thinning made her feel better about taking some coin on hand.  "I'm uncertain about how reliably shipments could be managed, but I'll do what I can about speaking with my contacts in Luskan on the matter.  I'm afraid I can't promise anything though, so try and make these foodstuffs last as long as possible, just in case." she didn't want to get the Speaker's hopes up, but perhaps something could be arranged.  It wouldn't be cheap though... the spellcraft necessary for such deliveries could rather quickly add up.

On their way to the clerk, Tympani's query about simple illusions got a sidelong smile from Mallory's delicately painted lips.  "Yes, I'm quite familiar with that spell." she honestly found the Halfling's reliance on the traditional materials charmingly droll, but made no remark as such.  Rather than use the same trick herself to render up the requested map, however, she withdrew a bit of spare scrap parchment from her satcheled notes and her Emerald Pen from within her lapel.  A few quick strikes of the inkwell pen was all it took for a seeping, spiraling rendition of the Bugbear's crudely crafted map to magically appear on the parchment itself in a matter of seconds, like ivy that crept across the span of an old wall.  "Here you are.  That illusion will last for a tenday, so if you'd like to make a copy for yourself, you have a bit of time.  It will just look like meaningless scribbles to most anyone else in the meantime, though." she offered the rendered map for Tympani to keep without concern.  "Though the original map wasn't created by the Bugbears - they purchased it from a band of Goblins called the 'Red Rust Ravagers' while at Karkolohk, according to their own claims.  You have some interest in the matter, I take it?  I believe Stormheart is more familiar with the group of Goblins than I am."

---

Mallory uses her Emerald Pen to cast "Illusory Script" to render a copy of the Bugbear Map for Tympani.  She'll designate the entire current group - Duvessa and Markham included - as being able to see the true image, while anyone else would just see it as gibberish.  However, Mallory very specifically omits The Spire from the map.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:41, Thu 25 Apr.

"Oooo ... "  One small, pink hand reached as though to touch the pretty magic pen.  Or, at least it, in its gesture, expressed the desire to very much do so.  "Maps.  I like maps," she muttered to herself as she accepted the scrap of parchment, eyes roving the details.

"No.  Not particularly."  The words wafted lazy from the distracted halfling as she finished committing the map to memory.  "I mean, yes.  In a way.  I'm interested in everything.  To a certain extent.  Red Rust Ravagers not so much.  Nice alliteration, though.  Or goblins.  Or bugbears, really.  The one thing that interests me is finding my girlfriend.  Then, I'm going to try and talk her into leaving this forsaken place.  You know, I don't think I've seen a ray of sunshine since I arrived.  Why she wanted to come back here is beyond me."  The halfling shook her head - as sign of befuddlement settling in where comprehension escaped her.

While Mallory had gently dissuaded Tympani's curiosity when it came to exploring the Portable Hole's contents, a smaller trinket such as her handy pen was more readily passed along for examination.  She tittered softly at the Halfling's obvious desire and twirled the pen deftly in her fingers to offer the finely-crafted utensil over for pondering.  It was indeed a remarkably well-made item - delicately carved ebony, with the accents and nib all hewed of pristine emerald.  Certainly worth more than a few coins just on raw materials alone, not even counting in for craftsmanship or enchantment.  Were Tympani to test its nib, she'd find it didn't even need ink to write; the pen itself magically generated supple black ink on contact.

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In case Tympani cares to try, the Emerald Pen allows its holder to cast "Illusory Script" at-will, without needing material components, nor does it require Attunement.

---

"I'm in a similar strait myself, actually.  I first came to Ten-Towns in hopes of joining my uncle's exports offices here in Bryn Shander, but I've not been able to lay eyes on the old tomcat since I've arrived.  He's prone to wander, but I do worry over him and have every intention to urge him to leave once I do finally find him." Be it friends, family, or lovers, there was something to be sympathized with when it came to trying to track a missing loved one.  The young noble pondered a moment and idly drummed her fingertip at the side of her chin in consideration before she spoke again.  "As it so happens, I am a Diviner; I might be able to assist your effort.  There are ways of tracking and communicating remotely with magic, but they tend to require a level of familiarity as a foci.  Do you happen to have a token of your beloved?  A lock of hair, for instance?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:28, Fri 26 Apr.

"Ooo.  Mmmm."  The five lines of a staff ran across the wall of Speaker Duvessa's office before anyone noticed.  "Bum BUM bum bu-bum."  The sign of the treble cleft headed the bar followed by an array of scattered ovals on sticks.

"A diviner?!?"  The halfling tore herself from her wall scrawl, her hand halfway into a pocket of her vest before even fully turned.  She lifted that hand, and in it was a braided lock of silky, jet-dark hair bound at one end with a crimson ribbon. "You can find Maer?"  The rich, clear voice of the halfling was strained with eagerness.  "This is her hair."

"Oh.  Sorry."  With a half-turn back to the wall, and a dismissive wave, a clean blessed blankness returned.  "And here is your pen.  Very nice."