Episode 1: Branded

You haven't had a good night's rest in at least a week. Every crunch of snow or rustle in the bush reminds you of what happened on the other side of the border. You can still hear the chewing, the voracity by which your short-lived friend was devoured. You can't help but shake that it could've been you in that maw. How the beast could choke on such a small finger bone is still a mystery, one that you thank a higher power for. At the fires every night, you look at each of your companions. Just a bunch of old war vets, who came together out of necessity. You make eye contact with each of them and you think, It could've been any one of us. Thankfully, it wasn't anyone I liked. When you made it back to Daskaran, the townsfolk rejoiced. They mourned the loss of your Inquisitor of the Silver Flame companion, and even went so far as to make you all custom fitted bedrolls and Silver Flame pendants (Which you may very well have discarded or hidden before crossing into Aundair) in his memory. The cold winter air brushes upon your face and burrows under your clothes. At least the supplies you gathered from Daskaran will keep you warm and fed for the journey.

The chill wind rolls over the mountains as the sun nestles into the slopes behind you. It's dusk when you arrive in Askelios, and you all agree to take some much needed R&R at The Pig in Mud, . When you get in, the barkeep welcomes you all warmly. "Cormac! I hope your trip was well, the bar's made some good coin while you were away, please, let me help you unload." They bark out to a couple server's and cleaners and a small group musters to get all of your gear inside. They set all of your things neatly in your rooms as you all get some food and drink. Many of the items in this Establishment are made from monster parts, with aged exotic meats or drinks of mystical fruits. The meal is delicious, the seats comfortable, and the fire warm. As you all rest, you notice the place is getting busier and busier as the night starts in earnest. The barkeep talks to Cormac when they're all finished unloading. "Cormac, Galinndan has been around about once a week, giving talks to the patrons over a fire and some good mead. It's been busy and we made some good coin. I already took some out for wages and supplies, here's the profits." He hands you a sizable bag of coin." We're running low on that wine you fermented with the ooze jelly, if you can find any more, it's been a huge hit. Ah, here he comes now." As they say so, you can hear the door opening, and a tall, slender elf enters. His hands snake out from beneath his brown cloak as he looks the place over and smiles. Nodding to the barkeep he raises a hand, gloved in soft green silk. His voice is light and airy, and he speaks kindly. "One of the usual, good fellow. Cormac! My, it's good to see..." His voice trails off as he sets his eyes on Kho'nan. His lip quivers and his smile grows wider. "Oh, my friend. You've made it. It's so good to see you. Did you by any chance make your acquaintance with the owner of this fine establishment? Cormac, meet The Beast!" He chuckles lightly before continuing, "There are fewer men better. I owe this dwarf my life. When our common enemy stole me out of my home and scarred my soul, this man took it upon himself to give me life. To give me hope. I'm so glad you're here, everyone will love to see you."

Anyone paying attention can watch the barkeep pour a champagne flute full of whiskey and deliver it to the elf, who graciously accepts. He holds the flute in three fingers and takes a very light sip. Seeming satisfied, he pushes his cloak open and slides his hand in his belt pouch. Galinndan pulls out a few coppers, which he hands to the barkeep. He turns to The Beast and asks if he'd like to join him while he gives a talk to the patrons. He doesn't expect a response, just smiles and motions for you to follow him up toward the fire. There, he pulls an ottoman out beside the fire and lightly flicks the glass. He raises a hand as the tone rings out and the crowd only just begins to look on as he starts.

"I, am a patient man no longer. I, like so many of you, put my faith in Queen Aurala - in Aundair. The gift for my faith, I stand before you nearly penniless, and nameless. Seventy two years ago, I was robbed of everything. Thrane, the silver flame, the inferno, stole it all. They hadn’t just stolen my home from me, my life’s work, my titles and holdings, no. They stole my children. My purpose. I watched them steal the life from my loved ones and they mocked me as they did it." He pauses, and the crowd mumbles in agreement. "I remember every sensation. The tremors, the scent, the taste of blood.” He lets his words hang in the air for a moment, visibly shaken. The crowd swallows the silence, and the room fills with the ache of the war. “But I was a patient man. I waited. I put my faith in our leaders, in our warriors. Four years ago we witnessed true horror. A Silvered mist rolled over the once powerful nation of Cyre. Aundair looked Thrane in the eyes and gave in to their fear. They signed away Thaliost. They signed away our homes. Our culture. Queen Aurala is bedfellows with the Silver Flame. She didn't demand our homes back. Our lives back. Our loved ones back. She said 'let bygones be bygones' as if we could all forget the horrors of war. But I say no." Some of the people near you wipe tears from their faces, remembering their own traumas. Others swell with rage, shaking fists and assenting loudly. "I say no! We will not let those murderers, thieves, and barbarians wipe our blood from those streets, pocket our coin, ravage our soils. We will not let them drag the bodies of our loved ones into pyres. We will not let them squat in the homes our sons, fathers, and sisters bled and died for. We have strength!" He points with an open hand at The Beast, some of the crowd seem to somehow recognize him and raise a fist. "We have the power to make change! We have the power to right these wrongs. I will one day see our children run down the cobbled streets of Thaliost again! I will see our capital back where it belongs! I will see Thrane, and all of the Silver Flame, answer for their crimes against us!" At this point, the patrons are angry. Many sit with white knuckles gripping tankards and blades. Many shout "Down with The Flame!" "Return our homes!" Galinndan stands, tossing back most of his drink and throwing the rest into the fire. The pit swells as it catches the alcohol and he throws the empty flute back into his chair. "We will not leave this place as cowards. We will not have peace until we see our homes returned! Spread the word! We will have Thaliost returned to us! Where our words fall on deaf ears, we will drive those cretins from our homes with blade and spell! I have gathered my supplies, I will follow the River Aundair through to the Scions Sound. We will make for Areskul! Fairhaven! We will travel by rail and footfall to the cities, gather the forces of our displaced brothers and sisters, of anyone willing to remember what Aundair truly is, and we will make our way to Thaliost. We will see our home again." The crowd roars, many throw coin on the table and make for the door. Others slam their drinks and begin to loudly chatter about their plans. Galinndan turns to The Beast quietly, and begins to talk to him alone amongst the loud crowd. "My friend. Many of these people are veterans like us. Many of them stand ready to march on Thaliost, when the time comes. I would have you there as well. We have plans to set a camp along the border of the Silver Wood. There will be dangers there. The Silver Flame launched a crusade many years ago, to clear werewolves from the forest, but many monsters still remain. We will need to train, to strengthen our camp and bolster our numbers. I have some resources on their way already, many from tonight will make their way as well. There is no one I'd rather share a seat with on military matters. Will you join us?"

Any of you who kept your Silver Flame pendants, if they are visible, let me know.

Kho'nan Shieldcrusher. That was the name his family had given him upon his birth, no doubt after the horrified screams of the midwife had died down. Theirs was a relatively sizable village in the Mror Holds, one of many belonging to the Clan Shieldcrusher. The hills provided ample room for movement, for fighting, and for brewing. They waged war in a frenzy, made the finest ale one could drink, and had modest mining settlements to make ends meet. But it was in war the Shieldcrushers shined.

Kho'nan Shieldcrusher he had been born.

The Beast he had become. Through circumstance. Through violence.

The Beast stood and took Galinndan's hand. "You do me much honor, master Galinndan. Was but chance that brought me to you. What they did to you and yours... aye, it was war, but there was no excuse. I hope their blood made the soil of your estate rich with blossoms."

It was an odd thing to say in polite company perhaps. The Beast cared not. He looked to Cormac, nodded politely and sat back down to enjoy the rest of his meal. Before he could take a bite, the offer was made, and he followed Galinndan to the fear, double-pint of ale in hand.

Kho'nan's face did not budge. It did not move an inch as the impassioned speech was given. Only when the patrons were making their way out and Galinndan was speaking to him quietly did his eyes darken a bit.

"Galinndan, I know you are hurting and bitter and angry. Rightfully so. But what is your plan here? To wage war against Thrane? With what? Aundair won't back you. You've said as much yourself. And if you take back Thaliost, and Thrane responds in force, what happens when Aundair attacks on your flank to avoid another war?"

The Beast was no coward, but this seemed half-cocked.

Galinndan looked sour at the dwarf's words, but nodded. He shrugged it off as a dwarvish proverb and didn't consider much else. When Kho'nan asked about his forces, Galinndan smiled. "I can show it all to you when we arrive, but the people of Aundair stand with us. Queen Aurala is a Fairhaven native. She has never even been to Thaliost, much less understands its significance to the Aundarian people. The longer lived members of this nation remember a time when we stood strong at our capital, and we would see it happen again. I am not the only one in this nation who wishes to see our capital returned, and many a conversation between sending stone has occurred with my compatriots across Aundair. We are the closest to the new site, and we will oversee its construction. Currently, we number in the hundreds, and we are growing rapidly. As word grows of our mission, the nation will realize we have a chance at this. A real chance. The people will follow us, whether the Queen turns her head or not."

<War ended. Peace arrived, rebuilding, recovery. Galinndan, returns to chaos.>
The words form in Kho'nan's head, unspoken by anyone, and would undoubtedly be cause for alarm had the dwarf not grown accustomed to the warforged known as Veil's unique method of conversation in the past months.

Veil had been encountered by the party as they pursued a werewolf preying on the peasants near the border of Thrane and Aundair, the warforged hunting the lycanthrope itself for reasons yet unexplained. Its telepathy had initially taken some of the party by surprise, the broken metaphors and lack of coherent sentences not helping at all, and it took the combined social efforts of Izar, Cormac and Helden to resolve their first encounter amicably. Once they had realised that their goals aligned, and that it was clear Veil would be a boon in their quest, the two parties joined forces and something vaguely resembling a friendship had begun.

Besides its strange manner of communicating, Veil is also physically different from the commonly established warforged. Instead of a hulking, imposing frame, Veil is instead small and wiry, standing no taller than an elf, and with longer limbs than usual. Its faceplate, when rarely seen from beneath the shadowy hood of the cloak it always wears, is almost perfectly smooth besides the two inset eye-sockets of a deep opaque green, and there are a plethora of scrapes and indentations that suggest either a long lifespan or a shorter existence of harsh survival.

As the others talk, Veil stands motionless as usual, but aware. Watching.

Helden had sat and listened as the elf made his impassioned speech, mug in hand sipping quietly.
His armor was still dirty from the trip and his body was weary.

He found himself nodding along with The Beast. Passion and a desire for vengeance were all well and good but they didn't win wars by themselves, and he said as much.

"Passion and a desire for vengeance are all well and good, but they don't win wars. What else do you have planned that gives you so much confidence? "

Galinndan smiles at Helden, "I haven't seen you at the Pig before! Am I right that you were with The Beast himself when I walked in? Sorry I didn't get acquainted with you earlier, I was eager to let everyone know how we've been doing. I'm Galinndan, known Beast for years, I owe him my life for his military ability." He holds out a dainty, gloved hand to shake, and you can plainly see him recoil from the dirt on you, though he tries his hardest to be welcoming.

He gives a nod to you and begins to answer your question. "Of course, your question. I couldn't ask Kho'nan to come all the way out to the middle of a monster infested forest if he didn't think we had a real shot at this. Listen, just the planners alone are nearing a hundred. The true Aundairians mark among them mostly artificers, enchanters, and donors. We all believe, like I do here, that we have a few dozen people at least that would be willing to take arms and make our demands known. And why wouldn't they? Just look at the map. It's our ancestral home, it's well defensible, and it's should be in our territory. But that's just the start. We don't want to kill the nation of Thrane, that's asinine. We want our homes back. It's a noble cause that many Aundairians agree with, and more will flock to us when they recognize the legitimacy of our claim. Even if they don't, our numbers are enough to swarm the city and take back our capital. When Thaliost is in our borders once again, Queen Aurala will have to support our legitimacy, or the whole nation will have her head for it. Even those that aren't willing to put their lives on the line would be outraged to see our capital handed away a second time."

When the genial hum in The Pig in Mud was interrupted by a monologue and then by angry shouts, a mousy young man looks up from the book that he was holding in one hand while diligently eating from a heaping bowl.  He absentmindedly blows at a lock of dull straw colored hair  - an affectation that Izar is still trying out to flesh out this particular persona - before starting to take in the scene around him.

Oh wonderful... a zealot.  How many times does a jackass have to witness and cause death for the sake of pride and dirt before admitting that it is futile?

Izar turns a page with the thumb of the hand that is holding the book, unwilling to alter the steady, determined rhythm with which she was eating.  

Fortunately, this has nothing to do with us... Her spoon hovers a few millimeters from her mouth for a moment.  Except that now both The Beast and Helden are speaking with the zealot in chief... Of all the Khyber-loving... She returns her attention to her food; there is not much to be done at this point but to wait and see.

The next time that the young man crosses eyes with a staff person, he signals for another round of food and then returns to his book.
If this is going to be my last meal, I should at least get to enjoy it.

Kho'nan nodded at his old acquaintance's words. "Don't gi'me that look, elf. You know I speak sense. Well, it wouldn't be right saving your skin just to let you be eaten by monsters in the forest. Since I am now out of a job, I might as well accompany you and see what you've got."

He rolled out his shoulders and finished his ale. It was OK. Passable. Nothing like his own. Perhaps when he got to this site he could brew some good stuff.

The Barbarian lifted an eyebrow and nodded at the warforged, as if to say "it is what it is."

Long past he had stopped being surprised by his companion's voice manifesting in his head. What was one more voice in his head anyways? Between Veil and his Symbiont, it was a wonder he wasn't mad already.

+++


Kho'nan's imposing form eventually loomed near Izar. While shorter than most in the group, his body was one of corded muscle. Thick and wide, he had hands that looked like they could crush rock and arms that looked like they were made of it. Assuming she was thinking the typical pessimistic response, he asked,

"You have any thoughts on the matter, princess?"

“Good to be back, Nana,” He called back in greeting to the barkeep, preferring to avoid details of what had occurred on his journey. He’d hammered his Silver Flame pendant flat first chance he got; he knew full well what the reaction would’ve been in the tavern if someone had discovered it on him. He just hoped the others weren’t foolhardy enough to keep theirs visibly on them. He wanted to get through tonight without some sort of fight tearing the place up; Nana still kept her firearms handy for just such an occasion.

Cormac stifled a chuckle as Nana ordered the younger employees to collect his things, knowing full well she had no intention of doing the work herself despite offering to do so. He knew he could rely on the dwarf to keep things going while he was away; her talents as a former huntress-turned-brewmistress were legendary, as was her heaving bosom and the stench of her pipe collecting in the bulbous bunches of her enormous smoke-stained hair. He appreciated the early tip-off about the wine; he would have to keep an eye out for more ooze from which he could harvest the jelly required. He tossed the bag of coins received in the air and caught it to test its weight and hear it jingle before storing it away securely. He shook every hand offered to him in greeting, including Galinndan's, as he did the rounds in his establishment.

When he finally sat down to enjoy his meal (his compliments and criticisms would go to the stand-in chef), Cormac let the sheer relief of home’s familiar comforts wash over him. It had been so long, he’d been afraid that things might have changed in his absence but much remained the same. Certainly a new face here and there, visitors passing through most likely, and a few young ‘uns had sprouted a hair on their chin and elected to pick up a flagon but otherwise it appeared to be the usual suspects. As Galinndan began his address by the fireside, Cormac kept a neutral businessman's face and focused on his meal. He shared a quick glance with Nana and gave a small nod of approval; he was not above allowing others to have their say in his tavern, where else could someone feel safe to speak what was in their heart after a cup or two? Galinndan was not wrong; Thaloist was a painful memory, and a wound in the community that hadn't healed. There were broken families that still suffered as a result. So, Cormac would let them talk, and see what came out of all this commotion.

Quote :

"You have any thoughts on the matter, princess?"

Looking up at Kho'nan from her seat, Izar blows at the stray lock of hair again How many times is too often, I wonder.  She wants to tell him that the entire venture was sheer folly and that ashes and tears are a poor birthright, but she is wary of the energy in the room.  There are far too many congregants of the church of patriotism and it never pays to be a heretic.


"Who me? Thoughts on all of this?" She gestured vaguely towards the crowd, book still in hand. "You guys are the ones who do the fighting. I mean really do the fighting, you know?  If you think that this makes sense, I gotta trust... You do, right?  Think that this all makes sense?" There was a certain pleading note to the question and she was not giving Kho'nan the icy glare that she felt right down to her very soul.  She imagined the young man that she was incarnating Was he more of an Ari or Zar? as a bit naïve, maybe even eager to please, which seemed fitting given the coming tide of nonsense.

Kho'nan's hard eyes softened as the young woman spoke. It was in that softening that they looked more blue and less black. Not blue like the alien nature of his hair, but something much more natural.

"Nae, lass. I don't think it makes much sense here and now, but it might when we see what Galinndan is working with. If it continues to not make sense, at least we can weigh our options. And at the very least, sounds like we migh'kill a bit'o nasties in the forest in our spare time. Might even be able to try my hand at some brewing, dependin'."

His voice still grumbled out like boulders tumbling down a hillside, but there was a softer touch to them. Kho'nan was anything but soft, but he was not a total asshole - especially not to those who had seen him full tilt in the midst of a battle rage and stuck around after.

<Meandering nomads, directionless. Follow a friend, acquire purpose? Persuade against folly, prevent chaos?>
Veil follows after Kho'nan to Izar's table, deftly weaving through the crowd as if it were not there, and puts forward the idea that they may be able to prevent any further bloodshed if they accept the elf's request and travel with him; the party has no better plan at the moment, at least not the rogue.

The warforged watches Izar eat in utter silence, then sends a thought. <Shaper of Song, feeds many. Starved, each aspect?>

Helden listened to Galinndan, taking another swig of ale, taking a moment to listen to the others in his group as well.

"A bunch of peasants and a noble cause wont win a war, but it seems like we will be joining you for the moment at least anyways."

He finished his mug and gathered the attention of one of the waitresses.
As she approached, his bearded face broke into a grin.
"Ah! Another round for me and my friends, and another plate of food for. Thanks love!"

He gestured at his companions with the empty mug, before handing it over to her with a wink.

Helden wrote:

"A bunch of peasants and a noble cause wont win a war, but it seems like we will be joining you for the moment at least anyways."

She had made her peace with the decision just before Helden made it official.

She could not deny that Veil had a point: they did not have a plan before this. Being a bit aimless was fine by her but she knew that indolent "meandering" would eventually become tedious to the others and she didn't want to be left behind.  On top of that, Kho'nan's openness to parting ways with Galinndan was more reassuring than she had expected.   The softness wasn't something that The Beast knew how to fake.


She exhales, giving Kho'nan a conciliatory smile.

"You have been talking about brewing for some time and I've set aside space in my notebook for documenting your process - with your permission of course. That will be my best case scenario: a long, reasonably uneventful trip for which I am rewarded in ale and in knowledge of ale."

Helden wrote:

"Ah! Another round for me and my friends, and another plate of food for. Thanks love!"

"An excellent idea!"  She makes quick work of the last of her current bowl's contents and realizes that she is not sure what to say to Veil.  She wasn't starving, she just wasn't a fool:  you eat what you can when you can. It was just common sense.

Kho'nan's lips parted and, for those paying attention, so did the tattoos on his cheeks. They swam ever so slowly, as though the corners of his mouth had physically pushed them and they were yet too tired to move as fast as physics dictated they should. A pearly white smile greeted the slight Changeling.

"Aye, you have my permission so long as you don't make record of any screw ups that may or may not occur. It's been a while, after all." He ended the sentence with a wink, and stepped back so that Izar could enjoy the newest plate of food being brought.

He stayed standing, lest Galinndan wanted to join them or have a word with him personally still. While he waited, he directed his attention to Cormac.

"What say you then, Cormac? Which way are ye'leanin'?"

As she had been holding his gaze, she only caught the movement of the tattoos with her peripheral vision.  Not for the first time, she wondered whether Kho'nan could feel his tattoos move and what they would feel like to the touch when they were motile.  

There is so much to learn about him.  About all of them really...  I will eventually have to tell him that it would be dishonest not to keep a record of his unintended deviations.  Perhaps he will be assuaged by the fact that it would be no more honest to view or document them as "screw ups".  Deviations in process are merely learning opportunities without which...  Oh! That looks wonderful!

As Izar tucked into the new dish, insouciant of whether she had intended this unassuming male persona to be as voracious an eater as she was, she stole glances at Cormac. She was curious as to what his take would be on all of this.

Cormac fixed his lips into a tight line; he'd run out of food, which he took as a sign to stop avoiding this conflict. He took another look around his tavern - it might not have changed but he certainly had, and he wouldn't let coming back here return bad habits with it. He stood up from his seat and joined the group, slapping his hand on Galinndan's arm as he stepped in to join him.

"Aundair is my home, I am as true an Aundairian as they come," Cormac replied to Kho'nan, "I've heard one too many a sad song, and seen one too many a tear wept, o'er the loss of the Old Capital. He gave Galinndan's arm a reassuring squeeze, it was a pain they shared together.

"I lean with Aundair, Kho'nan, and I'm with this cause in whichever way it has need of me or this roof o'er our heads. You've done us proud tonight, Galinndan."

The Barbarian nodded. They were in it, at least to accompany Galinndan to his camp and assess the situation.

"Right, well that settles it then. Let's eat. Let's drink. Come on, elf. We need to work out details and you need some food. You look like sticks an'feckin' bones."

The Dwarf spread his large arms and gestured for a place at their table for the elf to sit. At this, he finally sat down himself and took a healthy swig of the new round of ale. When they were all seated, he started in.

"So, what beasties can we expect to try an'eat us when we get to your camp?"

Helden nodded and grunted in agreement with the others and turned to the elf, mouth full, waiting for the answer to The beasts question.

Galinndan eyes the party like a child sniffing fresh sweets. He clenches his fists up and proclaims "Wonderful! Truly delightful! I am so pleased you're on board with the mission! I knew I was right to count on you. Cormac, Beast, and all of your companions, we are truly on to something great." He takes a seat and calls over some food from the barmaid.

Now then, the Silverwood. So the forest, when under Aundair's protection, was quiet, a good source of, well, silver and wood. Here's a bit of a history lesson, for those of you who may be unaware. The grand army of Liberation rode in through the Silverwood back in 927, but we lost, as our grandest army was still weakened fighting a two front war in Ghalt. As Thrane pushed us out, we took what we could to survive, and Thrane left us deep within the Silverwood. That's where our borders lie today." the barmaid arrives with a bowl of stew and some bread, which he takes politely and enjoys a couple bites. Dabbing the edges of his mouth with a cloth, he continues. "During Thranish occupation, there was a large outing of Therianthropes to the region, though I'm not sure why. Something about Warforged? Anyway, the Thranish government has proclaimed it clear, but there's a surprising number of them still floating about in the region. Still, they're not wild beasts, they're men. Many of them are driven to dangerous paths by the hatred of other people, but just as many are good, honest men Making a life for themselves away from the crusades of the Silver Flame. Still, there are all the usual dangers of travel along mountains and forest, wolves and worgs, predatory insects and plants, poisonous foods, avian monstrosities, etc. Much of the land has calmed down since the war, more efforts may be put towards keeping the peace, but travel is still dangerous in the region, and setting up is sure to welcome all manner of aggressive or territorial beast."

He takes a few more bites of food and takes any questions to follow. When finished, he nods. "Well, I am absolutely thrilled to have you, Beast, and your companions to accompany us on this journey. I am planning to head out with this crew of faithfuls after the last shipment of supplies gets off the rail. Should be a few days. In that time I'd invite you to stay with me, I've a few beds to spare for those that..." He looks to the warforged, "Need sleep... and plenty of room to entertain a few guests. I hope it gives you enough time to recuperate from your long journey."

Kho'nan followed along closely, listening, but otherwise impassive. While he inwardly shared a similar appetite to Izar, outwardly he ate at a slower pace. His physiology without the symbiont inside of him would require massive amounts of calories and proteins. With the symbiont he grew ravenous, but controlling how he took his food was one small thing that made him feel somewhat more normal.

Most saw him already as a beast, better they know the true reason for that moniker than simply assume it was because he ate like a pig. When they walked off a blood soaked field of battle together, they surely know... if they were fortunate enough to be able to walk off.

"Sounds like business as usual then." The mention of Therianthropes brought back unpleasant memories of their last quest together. The werewolf that had almost gotten the best of them - could have, nay, should have killed them all. Inner shame nearly overcame the Barbarian's pride, but he pushed it aside.

"We'll need silver," was all he said on the matter, knowing the others would full well understand the place the words came from.

It was unsurprising that their travels and the camp would be fraught with danger - they would be outside of a city. That people lived their entire lives away from the warm and the dry and the sensible of cities, by choice no less?  She would call it incomprehensible, except that everything and everyone could be understood in time.

Izar's chest tightened when Galinndan said Therianthropes and her skin grew hot at the prospect of facing a "surprising number of them".  She could not bring herself to look at her team mates, not wanting to see her own concerns reflected in their eyes.  Or worse, to confirm that she was the only one who was worried.  Therefore, the feeling of scorn and annoyance at the words "crew of faithfuls" was almost soothing, and the prospect of several days of room and board BEFORE having to do any work actually was.
It was time to rest and to prepare.

Quote :

"We'll need silver,"

She nodded,  trying to look more determined than grim.

Helden had been listening while eating, but paused for a moment at the mention of shape changers...
He continued eating but glanced at the others and noticed similar reactions to his own.

The gods were surely testing him if they were to encounter those kind again so soon after what had happened.

He took a deep pull from his tankard, and put it back on the table a little harder than he meant to.

War was war dammit! No matter the enemy!

He continued to eat, eyes staring at nothing as he started thinking about the last fight, what had worked, what hadnt worked, what they would need...

Cormac tested the bowl of stew and found it... acceptable. Warming yes, belly-filling yes, but nothing special. It was a step up from the rationed meals he would ladle out for the troops in the war but not by much. Enough to be a sight for sore eyes and empty tummies coming in after a long night on the road. Had this been acceptable before he left? Had he made bowls like this himself? Was this entirely neutral stew his recipe? Had he really allowed his artistry to become so stale? Cormac realised he was drifting and snapped himself back into the conversation at hand.

"Those poor cursed souls," Muttered Cormac, referring to the Therianthropes of Silverwood, "I'll make the necessary arrangements here to keep the tavern going in my absence. I'm sure Nana will understand the importance of this business. It seems to do just fine without me these days in any case.." He would get up to give Nana the news when she made her next rounds to the table. He may never hear the end of it from her, he could already tell she was planning on giving him an earful on account of his weight. He had become far too thin by Dwarven standards - Nana was one of those eccentrics who was adamant he had Dwarven ancestry in his blood - and he could tell she had been looking forward to fattening him up. He would have to make a promise that he would cook and eat better on this journey, and you certainly never broke a promise with a dwarf.

Kho'nan finished his pint in a gulp, careful not to let any spill on his electric blue beard. It was a pain in the arse to get it out of the braids. He absently scratched the shaved portion of the side of his head while plotting his next move.

He pulled a piece of bread apart. With his spoon, he carefully moved only the large portions of meat, vegetables, and potatoes onto one side. When he was finished, he had stacked up a sizable load, leaving only broth in his bowl. Then he carefully grabbed a piece of cheese from a platter and laid that over the top, watching as it slowly melted into the hot mound. Finally, he placed the other piece of bread on top.

One thing about the Dwarf was that he loved himself a good sandwich.

If anyone was paying close attention, they could hear him mumble "Au Jus" very slightly to himself before dipping the sandwich in the soup broth and taking a bite.

He finished chewing as the table seemed to quiet.

"Unless I have misread the room, it seems we are with you Galinndan. Rest will be nice. We can plan the next move. Know of any silver mines or ore deposits along the way? If Therianthropes are as serious a problem as ye'say, we're gonna need the right tools."

He snorted, wiped his mouth gingerly, and then dipped his makeshift sandwich in for round two.

Izar watched Kho'nan's deliberate movements with growing interest as he performed a kind of alchemy, effectively transforming one meal into another.

He said a word of invocation at the end of the process. Oʒoo? She could sound it out, but could not recall a deity or a religious practice that used that word or one that resembled it.  It would be helpful to know how it was written. I do not remember him using this word with other foods. Perhaps it tied to a specific ritual or holy day.  Is this a significant time of year for dwarves, I wonder?  I will have to do some reading...

Her reflections were interrupted by the question of silver and whether it could be easily obtained.  With everyone in agreement on heading to Galinndan's camp, the silver felt like the last piece of the puzzle before they would finally be free to take advantage of the room and board that was on offer for multiple days!  Thus, her greatest, immediate fear was that they would have to make a significant deviation from the most direct route to Galinndan's camp with the expectation that the delay was to be addressed at the cost of their time spent at rest. Worst of all, there was not a good way to control for that at this stage.

"Are there any maps of the area on hand that we can use?  It will aid in our planning if we could visualize the various options for silver with regards to our destination."  She had not directed the question at anyone in particular; even if no one answered her, at least she was coming across as cooperative.  







*ʒ is the phonetic character for the sound of the "j" in the word jus as pronounced in French

Galinndan watched as the table grew further and further agitated. He finished a bite of food and nodded to them as they voiced their concerns. "Yes, of course. I do have maps to part with, but I may be able to do you one better. As a matter of fact, I do believe I have a friend who used to work in the Silverwood's mines. I would wager he's here tonight." He looks around for a moment, scanning the crowd erratically. After a moment, he nods again and holds up a hand. "Ah, yes, we're in luck. Hagen! Hagen, lad! Come over a moment!"

From the lingering crowd, a weary, younger man makes his way across the tavern. For a miner, you mentally note, he seems quite small, and his clothes seem fresh. He stands near Galinndan and smiles "Galinndan! Glad to see my assistance came to fruition! How did the other coordinators like the site?" Galinndan nods "They loved it, my friend! Truly. But! I am here with another request. Please meet The Beast, and his companions. Of course, you know Cormac. Now, I don't know if or when you plan to make your way to the site. However, if you do plan to go, these fine folk are looking to add some silver to their equipment for their defense. They're hoping to find a mine with some remaining resources to draw from. Might you be able to assist them?" Hagen nods, looking to the rest of you. "I do plan to go. See, Galinndan is a great pal, I did my scouting in the woods on the circumstance. If you want me to make an early detour, it'll cost ya. Now, when I get there, I plan to bust open a nearby mine myself, both to silver some gear for our defense, and to start bringing in some income again. If you don't mind risking the trek out, I'm sure the mines will have some infestations to be rid of. I'd pass whatever you can manage from those creatures off to you as payment instead. And I'd mine and draw out the silver myself for you folk. How does that fit you?" He looks to you all with his thumbs tucked in his belt as he awaits a response.

<Circumstances, convenient. Beast's desires met, of prize and bloodlust both.>

Veil doesn't move a synthetic muscle, and could be mistaken for a piece of furniture. It wonders what exactly they might face within the mines, and conveys this to Beast and whoever else seems to be handling the conversation with the miner, though does not send any thoughts to the man himself; folk seemed uncomfortable when it communicated with them directly, for some reason. <Inquiry, of creatures unwanted. Our enemies known.>

Helden had listened and smiled as one of the problems sorted itself.

"Sounds like everything is coming together! Enough talk of business for the night. Let us enjoy the evening!"

He raised his mug nodded to the group and downed it.

Kho'nan stole a glance in Helden's direction as he took the last bite of his sandwich, unwilling to speak until the culinary creation had been thoroughly masticated and enjoyed. Food and drink required a full journey around the tongue to be properly enjoyed, after all.

He wiped his mouth with a provided napkin and nodded to the newcomer. The miner, Hagen, was a slight lad who seemed eager. Kho'nan couldn't tell if that was good or bad. While Helden the Cleric checked out, Kho'nan decided to talk specifics.

"Well met, Hagen the miner," he said in his waves-crashing-on-a-mountainside voice. "I reckon by the sight of ye'that it's been some time since ye've been in this mine, eh? I've some questions: how many veins are there currently inside? By your estimate, how many veins would you say could be opened to be profitable still yet?"

Kho'nan was no negotiator. His negotiations were largely screaming and the sickening crunch-squish of his Dorn Dergar meeting abruptly with his enemies' heads. But he was a Dwarf and the Shieldcrusher clan did have mining assets in the hills above the Mror Holds.

If the group could open and maintain, if not simply oversee, a second vein, then they could have a steady income and a well funded base of operations in the region. Kho'nan was thinking long term at the moment.

Of course, short term was just as important, as Veil had aptly projected into the Dwarf's mind.

"You say creatures occupy these mines - any more detail you can give? We kill 'em, we take what's theirs, aye, but what needs killin'?"

Helden's call to enjoy the evening resonated deeply with Izar. .
Finally! Thank you Helden! I was tired of this conversation from the moment it began... Ugh Izar groaned inwardly, recalling and parsing Veil's suggestion that they should find out what exactly lay ahead of them.

It was such a bother to have to sacrifice definite immediate comfort in the name of learning what terrors awaited them, but from experience, far greater regret lay in choosing the former over the latter. Now the question was, was it worth personally speaking up now?  Helden was unlikely to take it poorly, even if it was not in line with his last statement, and Veil was equally unlikely to intervene directly with a stranger even though the information was of interest.  


Before Izar could begin weighing the relative likelihoods of Kho'nan and Cormac intervening and how that might impact the decision to raise a concern, Hagen was addressed by an unmistakable bass voice.  


Kho'nan did not get straight to the point, but Izar was curious about the overall capacity of the mine.  If the threat, Hagen's take and the payment lacked a certain proportionality it could lead to future conflict, which would only extend their involvement with Galinndan. There would be time to work out a reasonable ratio once Kho'nan got around to asking "[...]what needs killin'?"

Yes, that.  Once they knew that, they could finally follow Helden's lead and worry about the rest tomorrow.

Hagen's mouth made a smile, but his eyes betrayed him. "Aye, been a couple years now. The Silverwood was passed between Thrane and Aundair many times over the war. My family's been prospecting in the wood for Amy who come by since before the war. Married myself a nice miner and settled down in the operations. It was a good time, til the war ended. Thrane came in and declared us, Aundairian by birth, to be deported. My husband refused, and they arrested him without ceremony. I've been wandering Aundair for a couple years until I found this place. But, that's neither here nor there, about your questions: we generally take a vein at a time, and I haven't been in a while, but I reckon there's about four, a couple split off one we've already started, and some surface prospects we hadn't started on yet. In what to kill, well I've no idea. It's no guess that creatures have moved in to a well maintained cave system since we left, but what, or how many, I couldn't say. Therianthropes, I can say, shouldn't be a problem therein. Being of the common folk when unafflicted, they tend to build their own homes away from civilization. If I had to guess, probably insectoids, oozes, and other such cave loving monstrosities. This ain't my first run in with evicting a nasty guest, shouldn't be something you folk can't handle. 'specially with how Galinndan talks about ya." Hagen wipes his hands along his pants and looks down at the rest of the table, "That suit ya, or am I getting some coin?"

Just a few years ago,  that story would have stirred a deep sense of outrage and sympathy at another life being destroyed by a pen stroke on a map.   At this moment, Izar wondered if Hagen's husband's stubborn pride had gained either of them anything other than time apart, but knew that it wouldn't help the situation to ask.  No, they were best served by staying focused on learning what they were to be up against.


"If Therianthropes were the main threat in a silver mine, it would be certainly be cause for concern... and careful documentation.  One would not reasonably expect their presence, let alone in high numbers. No, not at all."  The head shake given for emphasis sends new stands of hair into his face and he pushes them back with one hand while reaching for an unattended roll with the other.

The stakes felt fairly low, so Izar did not feel driven to break from this fledgling persona Ariza!  I think that's it.  Ariza.   I should really have landed on a name earlier. who in addition to being naïve and eager to please, was really coming along as an awkward, cloistered scholar; confident with theory and more hesitant on decision making.  

"The kind of subterranean fauna that you describe, Mr Hagen-the-Miner sir, well it seems well within our collective capabilities to address. And so, I do not believe that we will be needing to remunerate you for the, uh, accompaniment..."  


Eyes the colour of the late season honey flit nervously,  looking for signs of assent or dissent from the others.

Veil remains melded into the background, its facemask betraying no hint of reaction to the miner's tale. When he's done, a single word appears in the party's combined head. <Fight.>

Kho'nan folded his arms over his barrel chest as Izar spoke, listening carefully. There was the faintest hint of a smile at the sides of his mouth, and he absently ran his left hand over the braid that hung from the bottom of his lower lip. Tattoos shifted ever so slightly, like leaves following the sun. Almost imperceptible save for long periods of study.

Veil's message appeared to him and he nodded.

"It is settled. We clear this mine. As the threat level cannae be determined here as we're goin' in blind, we will lay initial claim to at least one of the other veins for ourselves, with options to prospect unimpeded should it be determined necessary. In addition, of course, to whatever our kills leave for us. From what you're sayin', this should no'be an issue. Plenty to go 'round, for the cause, what have'ye."

He stood, unfolding the boulders he called arms and held out his catcher's mitt of a hand. Lest anyone else had anything to offer, it was time to seal the deal.

Hagen cocks his head at Kho'nan's request, and abruptly steps back as he sticks out a hand. "W-well, I can't give you a whole lode just like that, these claims are worth hundreds of thousands of gold a piece. It would take a truly tremendous act to get yourself one of those claims. You give us back Thaliost, or my Killian back to me, and you can have the whole mine. But I can sweeten the deal if that's not enough for you all. How does two-fifty gold now, and another two-fifty on completion sound? Five hundred gold total? That- that's a fair days work for risking yourselves." He sticks his hand out to Kho'nan, praying the large dwarf doesn't look for more.

Kho'nan's hand curls into a fist very slowly at Hagen's refusal. It retreats back into a fold across his chest. His eyes, wide open as he listens blink. But they don't blink from top to bottom with his normal eye lids; rather, two white membranes move in from the sides. For a split second his eyes completely white out.

~~~ He thinks he can deny us? Us?! Show him the rage. Show him the carnage. Show him the hatred of a thousand hells below and the splendor of a thousand heavens above... show him... The Beast ~~~

The voice slithered into his headspace, quite unlike Veil. Whereas Veil was gentle, almost a non-entity in his telepathy, this voice made itself known like the death knell of an ox at the hands of a pack of hyenas.

Kho'nan could feel these words in his mind, like the hundred legs of a centipede crawling in and out of his conscious. Laying down roots, like a sickly vine. Then pulling away, uprooted, scurrying.

Keep quiet now or ye'won't come out for a week, he replied.

There was a hiss, then silence. He returned his attention to the matter at hand.

"Lad, I'm no'sayin' we'd take your mine from ye flat out. You've claimed it, aye. By rights its yours. The plan was to secure a single vein not for our own pockets, but as a means of providin' for the cause. Everyone ye see around ye. But you've made yerself clear. Can't fault ye'fer it."

He looked around at the group, catching their eyes and feeling the room.

"I won't speak for my companions. I'm no'their leader. Just their berserker. 250 now, 250 after is fair. But I plan on holdin' you to yer word about yer husband. We'll be stayin' with Galinndan for a few days before headin' out. In that time, you should give me all the details you have about your husband - somethin' we can work with. A husband for a mine is a deal no Dwarf of Clan Shieldcrusher would turn down."

With that, he takes Hagen's hand.

Annoyance at this so-called negotiation, at Kho'nan's insistence that they needed a silver mine, at being on a mission that was driven by patriotism, at not being brave enough to walk away from this group and figure things out solo... Go where? Do what?

It was all making it hard to hold onto who Izar was trying to be right now. On top of that, the white nictitating membrane meant that either way, this was not the time to congratulate Kho'nan on giving himself braids so tight as to make him daft beyond the limits of man, magic and machine.

So when Kho'nan catches Izar's eyes, Ariza's golden brown gaze is flat. Gone is the nervous softness; in its place a distant placid look and a mirthless smile. That expression does not change as he drains his tankard while signaling for another round of drinks.  

No matter. Everything will seem fine soon enough.

Helden had slowed his pace, his immediate needs met, and had watched and listened.

"As much detail as you can. I suspect it isnt as easy as popping down to the river to pick them up..."

Kho'nan was glad that Helden was on the same page, at the very least. Already a simply jaunt to a partisan camp had turned into clearing a mine that they'd have no claim over lest they rescued a damoiseau in distress. At least the friends and enemies hadn't become too convulted... yet.

Truth be told, the Shieldcrusher was simply ready to get into the mines and win back some self respect. Being beaten down and on death's doorstep at the paws of the werewolf still hung heavy in his mind. An enemy to best, that would be a good start.

He caught Izar's honey gold eyes and stared back. Was the princess challenging him in her own way? What was she thinking?

He had learned to pay close attention to the slight changeling. Her mind was as sharp as his khukri, and had no doubt a higher kill count.

Without looking away, Izar raises a hand; fingers intentionally being held taut and apart from one another, and the thumb tightly pressed against the side of the hand, as if it was trying to fuse with the neighboring index.  "The Traveler's best trick is silence"

Message was one of the first spells that she had learned and had made great use of when scheming ideating with her friends.  With a few arcs of the wrist, the hand smoothly traces loops that resemble an upper case G intertwined with an upper case S, ending with a flick of the wrist.  


"A bit late to be coy about leadership don't you think? Now, stop staring. Anything else can wait for tomorrow."  As no one else will hear her words, Izar whispers in her own voice.  At least at this point, there should be no more speeches, side projects, or negotiating; only room and board, and rest. Perhaps this entire affair would even seem less ridiculous in the morning.

Blithe expression still plastered on Ariza's face, Izar does not wait to see whether Kho'nan looks away, but rather returns to reading and a determined consumption of food and drink.  He knows that if he chooses to answer, he will be heard.

Turd.

The mental response hit like a catapult shot.

You kno'what your problem is, princess? You sit there with your books and your silence and your snide looks an...

Kho'nan was still thinking things back at Izar even after the duration of the cantrip had long since passed. Truth be told, he was not actually frustrated with the Changeling so much as he was with himself for getting sucked into some defacto leadership role.

Leader of what? Of whom? The closest friend he had here was the Elf Galinndan and after that Veil. The damned Warforged wasn't right in the head, which suited Kho'nan just fine. But the idea of leading a group who he by and large didn't know well enough to call friends, and who had collectively failed their last mission, really rubbed him wrong.

He decided to bandy no more words that night. Grabbing another pint, he removed himself from the table and found a spot - alone - near the closest fire to stare into and ruminate on what the night had become.

Hagen shook with a strength unexpected from his slight frame. "Perfect! Let me grab a pint and we can talk grit." He remarked before setting off to the bar. By the time he'd made his way back, he saw Kho'nan set off by a fire, and Galinndan with pursed lips. He looked to Galinndan and pointed his drink to The Beast. Galinndan waved him off and pointed to a seat at their table, which Hagen took. Sitting down with the rest of the newfound allies, Hagen nods to Helden and takes a swig of drink. "I see I may have hit a nerve. Let's enjoy ourselves, I'll find you in here before Galinndan heads for the camp, we can go over all the details then. Here's to hope! A brighter future awaits!" He raises his glass in a toast at his last words, and he shares a drink with all of those who raise their own drinks...

No matter how your night was spent, the morning comes all the same. With comfortable beds and plenty of space, the Pig in Mud gave you the most restful night you've had in weeks. Permeating through the cracks in the doorway, the scent of breakfast hits your nose. Meats, fresh bread, drinks, and many other sweet and savory scents play on the palette, rising you pleasantly from Dal Quor.

*OOC: If any of you have anything to add to the prior scene, feel free to pick it up again. You may all dictate your mornings as you please. Please let me know if there's anything you all would like to get done before we move on a couple days to your departure for the camp site. At that time, any spending, character options, or events here will be finished. We may role-play out Hagen's info on his husband, or we can just assume the party has a description, name, and location he's being held if we're itching to get to something else. Feel free to divvy up the 250 gold from Hagen as you see fit.

Despite wanting to sleep deep into the afternoon, Izar tends to wake near daybreak, and this morning was no different.  The bed was soft, but she suspected that the fresh bread that she could smell baking might be an even better kind of soft.  It does not take long for her to get ready, and as she had done before going to bed, her last step before leaving her room is to take an inventory of her belongings.  It does not pay to be complacent

She takes in the sounds and smells of the inn while alternating between reading and taking some notes.  She has chosen to return to the table as the bookish scholar with the golden eyes, in part because it makes sitting in peaceful solitude seem more unobtrusive, less impolite.  This cozy time is something that you simply cannot get on the road, and she plans to enjoy it for all that it is worth before the day inevitably turns to planning for their departure.

Kho'nan was snoring soundly in the bed that had been offered. It was more comfortable than he was used to. He tended to live modestly; he was no pauper and had a taste for the finer things when it came to food and drink, but when it came to sleeping and relaxing he was never one to splurge. So this was a nice treat.

~~~ Wake up. There's food. How can you sleep when there's food? I am HUNGRY ~~~

A dreamless sleep interrupted by the scurrying noise of his other half. Kho'nan's eyes opened and took in the morning light coming through the glass window. He sent some extremely unpleasant thoughts back at the voice that woke him up. Regardless of the fact that it was time to get up, it had been long since he had a dreamless sleep and the interruption annoyed him to no end.

He stood in the sun, naked as the day he was born, and opened the window to take in some of the fresh morning air. He drank a large glass of water. Hydration was key, after all. He then splashed his face, and rinsed his mouth. A loud series of cracks accompanied his morning stretch. He was ready.

+++

Fully dressed in traveling boots, kilt, wide leather belt, and a light cotton shirt, he made his way downstairs. His appetite demanded a large breakfast, but he was careful to eat it with as much restraint and control as he had the previous night. He had a thing for fruits, especially those outside of the Mror Holds. His plate was packed with those,  but saved for after the meats and breads were consumed.

Satisfied, he made ready to greet his companions if necessary and then go about looking for ingredients to ensure he could brew plenty of beer at the partisan camp.

<Radiance arrives, likewise the sun.>

Veil greets the Beast with a cryptic 'good morning', the warforged still stood motionlessly in the same spot as you last saw it several hours ago, though with a sudden flash of movement it moves to stand beside the table Kho-nan now occupies. As more of the party join, they are greeted in an equally vague manner until a query is put forward. <Purpose, renewed. Imminent departure?>

Helden had enjoyed the night as everyone had gone on their way, and slept well. He always slept well, but tonight was particularly good.
With his morning prayers completed and his spells ready for the day, he had moved to meet with the others in the main hall, ordering breakfast and a morning drink to get things going.

"Morning all!"

Kho'nan greeted those who greeted him with friendly nods and a kind word or two. He quickly realized that he wouldn't be sneaking out alone. That was something of a high hope anyways; Veil, was usually close by and while the Dwarf didn't mind it, he knew he wasn't quick enough to do anything about it anyways.

"I'll be lookin' to spend some o'the coin Hagen handed out. Ingredients for brewin', mostly."

He was eager to get moving. The rest was nice, but the catharsis of holy battle was very much needed. His soul needed cleansing.

*****************
[OOC Silence = Passive Approval lol; I am rolling with the understanding that we all got an even split of the coin - 50gp per person]

When Helden greets them, Izar nods absently in his general direction and leaves the table.  The young scholar returns with a pitcher of hot cider and one of water, and leaves again mumbling something about extra mugs.

While the others are focused on their own meals, or silent looming in Veil's case, Izar repeats "A better spice than hunger" three times in rapid succession, accompanied by a palms down waving of both hands, parallel to the ground, with the occasional tilt of a wrist - keep an eye on the Lady.

The beverages would remain suitably warm and cool for the next hour, as would the non fruit components of Kho'nan's mountain of food; something of a peace offering, though not one that she would draw attention or readily admit to.  Since she wanted to learn more about brewing and not end up alone in Aundair because the group dispersed, small additional comforts would help to keep tempers even.


"To address Veil's query regarding the... imminence of our departure.  We are here for however long a 'few days' is.  It is inaccurate to be sure, but does indicate a certain... uh haste.  Making some use of current funds might be sound. There may be limited opportunities to do so in the period that follows a 'few days'."

Helden grunted and finished a mouthful.

"Spend the morning faffing around and then head to this mine around noon? Or we finding this partner first?"