Chapter 5: Blood and Fire

[Josh]

"Apparently this inquisitive comes highly recommended."

Grafth clears his mind of delectable aroma long enough to offer up a smirk, "Well, we shall see! No matter how strong the recommendation, an inquisitive must be on their mettle."

[Jeff]

Lord Dassek sighs and turns to face the flustered man. "Please excuse Lord Kalarian d'Deneith. He is a true model of his house, as you can see. The animal is a familiar. It will not pester the other customers, I assure you. Nor leave its—" Dassek pauses, as if refraining from an explative. "—master's side."

The waiter accepts the apology with an embarassed nod, clutches at the gold coin Kal gave him, and hurries away.

"The smells coming from the kitchen are so tantalizing that if we're not seated soon, I'll start eating shirts, too. Yours looks good, Charis."

"Sorry," Charis says with a smile, "You'd have to get through this armor first. Chewy, I suspect. And the Flame knows who else was wearing this before me."

Ralsor nods. "You really don't want to know that."

A few minutes later, a new usher arrives and leads your party through a dark corridor and into a private dining room. The table within is spacious, allowing each of you plenty of room to set your packs down. Even once you're settled, the scene is odd. Kal and Streko still wear their chainmail armor. Charis and Grafth wear leather, but it's easier to conceal with their coats and cloaks.

Lord Dassek sits to one side, a bit aloof.

"Tangat! Over here! This is the place to come to get the most of your meal." He motions to the space between him and Lord d'Deneith.

Tangat bounds happily over to the halfling, leaping up onto a chair beside him, not content to stand under the table between human and halfling. Lord Dassek shakes his head and says nothing.

Water and freshly baked bread is carried in, along with an assortment of flavored butters. Menus are laid out. Ralsor snaps one up eagerly. Lever, obviously disinterested in food, strolls over to the wide bay window, which faces south.

[Jeff's backup]

Condign takes his place with the others, sitting at one end of the table. Picking up the menu, he gives it a quick scan and frowns. As a waiter passes, he tugs at the man's sleeve to get his attention. "Excuse me, sir, but do you have fare to accommodate a tiefling? Some marinated boar intestines would be nice."

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OOC: okay folks, I'm away in the morning for the great white north. Posts will be sporadic--likely none tomorrow--and by necessity brief. I will return on August 29th. Take care!

[Darren]

Kal's face darkens momentarily. "I am, Lord Dassek, a perfect example of what House Deneith SHOULD be." He frowns at the man for a moment, then restores his customary grin to his face as he scans the menu in front of him and absently scratches Tangat's ears.

[Ken]

Belarin glances at the menu. "Hmm, whatever I order will be contingent on the type of ale or wine available. Are we paying for this?"

He looks around the table at his companions, scrutinizing them. "Hmmm. You know, this is one of the few leisurely moments we've had together, enforced upon us though it may be. I'm curious: What do each of you, well, DO in your lives when you're not combating the efforts of a plane-hopping megalomaniac? Even you, Kal, must have some sort of duties within your house, yes?"

[Jeff]

"Excuse me, sir, but do you have fare to accommodate a tiefling? Some marinated boar intestines would be nice."

The waiter pales, then nods awkwardly, and moves away.

"Are we paying for this?"

Lord Dassek looks at Belarin, a half-smile on his face. "Indeed, you are," he replies with a quick glance at Kal. "When you're cleared of all charges, I'll see to it you are reimbursed." The colonel himself sips water and requests nothing more.

The menu is rather large, and half of the items on there you've never heard of before, but much of it is standard Aundairian fair. Pan-seared rabbit with an Aundairian wood-nut sauce seems the most popular item, here and abroad in this land. Dragon salmon—presumably a large river fish—is also offered, along with an assortment of wines.

"It has been a long time since I have been in a city," Lever remarks, his gemstone eyes reflecting in the dark pane of the window. "I find that I have missed it."

Amal swallows down some bread and nods at that. He looks at Kal. "My lord, whatever happens next, I would like to say that my life has never been more adventurous than it has in the last few days in your company."

Tangat lingers near Streko the most, aware that the halfling is the most likely to give him food, but he soon leaps down from the chair and begins to move among you, offering his best puppy face. Not once does he try to steal food from the tabletop.

[Josh]

Grafth, his mouth full of bread, orders a helping of the rabbit, and some Nightwood Ale. "Generous portions of both," he tells their server with a gleam in his eye.

"While we wait, I wonder if it would be possible to get some information on anything that's been happening while we have been otherwise occupied..."

[Darren]

Kal places his legs up on the chair next to him, reclining slightly. He offers a nod to Amal, a smile on his face. "Like most in House Deneith, Belarin, I served my time in the Blademark's Guild, just like our loyal friend here," he says with a gesture towards Amal. His expression suddenly changes, and he seems almost wary to continue speaking. It is brief, though, and his smile soon returns. "I served my time on the Talenta Plains during the war. That's where I met Tangat, where I learned to speak the language of the Halflings and to respect their culture, and where I was taught the use of their fierce weaponry. It's also where I saw a great deal of bloodshed...a great deal of good people, men and halflings, lose their lives." Kalarian stares down at the table. "After my time on the Plains ended, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I've just been going from place to place, really, and it seems that there are many within House Deneith who are content to let me do so." Leaning back again with a smile, his sleeves pushed up to reveal his dragonmark, Kal adds, "For now."

[Joe]

Streko grabs some of the bread and tears a chunk off of the loaf. He hands the peice to Tangat. "When my order arrives, perhaps you can get some of the trimmings with your bread," he tells the dog in halfling.

He turns to the waiter. "I've never tried Dragon Sall-mon. Is that a fish?" He turns to Grafth. "Would you think I might enjoy it? What does it taste like? Perhaps some of the Sall-mon and an order of the rabbit as well. I do so love rabbit. And...what kind of wine goes well with Sall-mon? Grafth, please assist me with this. I, of course, will share the wine with you if you would like."

He looks down at Tangat. "If I do not like the Sall-mon, I shall ensure you have an opportunity to try it yourself."

The thought of simply ordering food without fear of being immolated pleases Streko to no end. "For just an hour, I would like to not worry about anything."

And then, his sister's face appears in his mind's eye, followed closely by Malov and zombies and spell-casting warforged.

"So much for that idea..." he grumbles.

[Jeff]

"The Nightwood Ale is rather expensive, sir," the waiter warns Grafth. "And lately, all Karrnathi imports have been exorbitant. Fifteen galifars per bottle, I'm afraid. Are you certain you still wish to have some? A single bottle, perhaps?"

"I'll pay for two," Lord Dassek speaks up. "For this table." He meets Grafth's eye. "When this is over, you pay the next one, eh?"

When two bottles of dark amber ale have been delivered, Dassek addresses the rest of you.

"Bear with this a while longer," Lord Dassek says. "Unless the inquisitive finds something incriminating aboard Captain Ralsor's ship, I hope to see you free again by morning. You'll stay the night under the watch of the court—within the walls of Fairhold."

"Inthide the palath?" Ralsor sputters, his mouth full of bread. He takes a swig of regular house ale to wash it down.

Dassek nods. "Yes. Fairhold is much more than the Queen's family estate, as you well know, Captain. It also houses offices of the state, military facilities...and dungeons."

He leaves that thought for a moment. "I've taken full responsibility of you all now. That is why you will not be staying anywhere near the dungeons. And that is why I have continually asked for your cooperation and goodwill. Were it not for my firsthand witness of your actions earlier today, you would be in the court's custody for a week or more before getting to the heart of the matter. I will send word to House Deneith and House Jorasco this very night. If they wish to collect you in the morning, that is well. If not, I will be taking Condign with me to the Deneith enclave myself come morning anyway. We can go then."

"Colonel," Charis says. "Is there any chance at all of stopping at the message station before going to the....palace?"

"I'm afraid not. The royal court will not allow third parties to be involved yet, not until you can be absolved."

He pours a glass of Nightwood Ale for himself and holds it up. His voice deepens. "I drink this for the men and women who died today. I drink this for vengeance, for the swift death of our enemy."

With that, he turns and joins Lever at the window, brooding with his drink.

[Josh]

"And...what kind of wine goes well with Sall-mon? Grafth, please assist me with this. I, of course, will share the wine with you if you would like."

Grafth shrugs, "I've never been one for pairings, friend, nor am I familiar with the local cuisine. I say, if it smells good, eat it."

"The Nightwood Ale is rather expensive, sir," the waiter warns Grafth. "And lately, all Karrnathi imports have been exorbitant. Fifteen galifars per bottle, I'm afraid. Are you certain you still wish to have some? A single bottle, perhaps?"

"I'll pay for two," Lord Dassek speaks up. "For this table." He meets Grafth's eye. "When this is over, you pay the next one, eh?"

The shifter accepts the deal with a nod, glad to be spared from having to prove what he can afford to a stranger. Grafth remains as unsentimental as ever, but upon Dassek's solemn toast, he closes his eyes momentarily in thought before taking a long draught of ale.

[Ken]

Belarin puts down the menu, saying, "I'm in the mood for stew... and more ale." To Kal, he continues, "I appreciate your sharing the information. I had been curious about that interesting-looking blade of yours."

When Dassek mentions Fairhold, Belarin says, "Excellent. This may be my first visit to a place of royalty that didn't involve winged creatures, woods, or um, less-than-direct approaches. Anyway, thank you again for your assistance. I daresay our entrance into the city would have been as uncomfortable as a bugbear at a tea party."

He pauses after Dassek's solemn toast. Once he sees that Grafth has finished his drink of ale, he enquires, "And you, Grafth? Where do you hail from?"

[Jeff's backup]

Condign accepts his plate of food from the flustered waiter. Smiling, he starts to enjoy the first cooked meal he has had in some time. Turning to the others he asks: "What is ale?"

[Josh]

Grafth puts his mug down, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his coat. "My home is a small village of little import in the northern Plains. I have not been home in... well, too long. This emblem often weighs heavy on my chest."

Turning to the others he asks: "What is ale?"

"I don't claim to know your preferences, but my advice to Streko can be applied to your query as well!" He takes another heavy drink and smiles at the tiefling.

[Jeff's backup]

Condign nods his thanks to the shifter. "May I try some of that ale?"

[Jeff]

You are left for more than an hour of nothing more but peace, your own company, and plenty of good food. At some point a waiter slips in a bill, and you can see that all the food is roughly eight sovereigns a head—which would be Amal, Belarin, Charis, Grafth, Kal, and Streko for your party. In total, five galifars.

"If this were Flamekeep," Charis says, eyeing the bill with a smirk. "And the coffers of my family closer at hand, I'd take care of that in a heartbeat—the least I could do for you lifting me out of that cage just a few days ago." She directs her words to Kal, Belarin, Streko, and Grafth.

"But really, as it stands, you've given me a portion of Alvek's stash anyway. So this dinner is on me." She sips a small amount of Nightwood Ale, looking as though she wants to dislike it because she's from Thrane and its Karrnathi. She slips her hands into her pocket and withdraws five gold coins, laying them on the table for the servers to collect.

Once she's had her sip, she fills the glass again and passes it to Condign. "Take mine," she says, her smile fading as she looks at the tiefling. "Try to keep an open mind, eh?"

[Darren]

"I so rarely let a woman pay for me," Kal says with a smile. "I will make an exception this time, but only because I've seen your skill with a blade."

Kal laughs, leaning further back in his chair and burying his hand deep within Tangat's fur. "Did you eat well, my friend?" he asks his companion.

[Ken]

"Thank you very much, Charis!" says Belarin, reclining in his seat. "My, that was good. Excellent ale, too. I'm as happy as a Brelish moneylender who just foreclosed on a farm on the same day he learned that his blackmailing mistress fell into the Black Pit. Ahhh...! Dark days lie ahead, my friends, so let's savor this night!"

He turns to Condign. "Say, you earlier mentioned an area where you came from, but I didn't quite catch it. Would you mind describing it?"

[Jeff]

"But first," Charis says, pointing her fork at Belarin. "You. You're very quick to ask questions, Belarin. How about telling all of us where you're from. I detect a Brelish accent, but there's something more to that, isn't there? And you told the wizards you were a scribe. Is that so?"

"Yeah," Ralsor says, crossing his arms in mock indignation. "Speak up, Malizia."

Lord Dassek looks on, amused, but takes no part in the discussion.

[Joe]

The Sall-mon is NOT to Streko's liking after all. Fortunately, he ordered the other entree as well. He puts his plate down next to his chair. "Tangat?" He clucks a couple times to get the mighty dog's attention and then returns to drinking his wine and the much tastier rabbit."

He turns to Kal, his mouth filled with a slice of bread smothered in the rabbit drippings. "The plains had much heartier fare if I remember correctly, although one should never look a gift-Tribex in the mouth, or so I've heard." He smiles at Kal.

So this dinner is on me.

"My dear Charis, I do thank you for this, the first good meal we've stopped to partake in weeks where we haven't then been immediately ambushed and attacked. Olladra pray our recent ill fortune in that regard not continue here." He smiles at Charis, clearly enjoying the food and feeling an oddsense of invigoration. He dips another slice of bread in rabbit drippings and offers it to Tangat. "Hopefully this will wash out the tast of that Dragon fish thing....bleh..."

Streko looks around and smiles again, seemingly at everyone simultaneously.

[Ken]

Aug 25, 2009 16:55:13 GMT -4 Jeff said:

"But first," Charis says, pointing her fork at Belarin. "You. You're very quick to ask questions, Belarin. How about telling all of us where you're from. I detect a Brelish accent, but there's something more to that, isn't there? And you told the wizards you were a scribe. Is that so?"

"Yeah," Ralsor says, crossing his arms in mock indignation. "Speak up, Malizia."

Belarin places his hand on his chest, his eyes widening in mock horror. "Me? I'm extremely uninteresting, my lady." He takes another drink, hoping that the topic will pass by. Yet he feels the eyes of the others upon him and he can sense the playful smirks....

"Damnation," he whispers. "Fine." He looks at Charis with a warm smile. "Fortunately, you're asking this after I've consumed quite a bit of ale. I can easily be taken advantage of tonight. Ahem." He takes one more sip and places the mug back on the table.

"Yes, indeed, I am Brelish in body, though I was born in a keep in the Byeshk Mountains, far from Breland itself. Many years ago, the crown decided that it would be a good idea to keep an eye on the monstrous goings-on in our neighbor Droaam, believing that it could one day pose problems for the region -- as truly it has. Hmmm, 'a keep to keep an eye on things.' Is that where the word came from? Anyway...

"As the generations passed, a small town grew within the keep, mostly isolated from the events of the Last War -- which made some folks VERY anxious. In addition to the military force there, a monastery of sorts developed, devoted to the Sovereign Host -- have you noticed how monks and keeps go together? -- and it was there that, as a boy, I started performing chores as a scribe and a loyal acolyte of the Host. I'm clearly priestly material, am I not?

"Things did not go well for me, to be sure. My parents were lost before the first hair appeared on my chin -- some sort of military expedition in Droaam went afoul -- and the cleric to whom I was 'charged' was a vain, unpleasant man. Not surprisingly, I sought refuge in the only thing available to me: books. Many, many books. In particular, I thrilled to legends of ... the fey. Years later, I came across hidden scrolls from long before, from the keep's original habitants -- possibly hobgoblins -- and their encounters with the fey. Curious and foolish and a little desperate, I snuck away from my vile 'guardian' and set off for the Towering Wood nearby.

"After wandering for a while, I came upon, well, creatures that some of you have seen. Creatures of mind-numbing beauty and creatures of blood-chilling malice. Perhaps as curious about me as I was about them, we started playing word games. Before things got too far, my 'guardian' tracked me down, backed by a squad of warriors, fully intent on attacking the several fey with me.

"I had a choice: Return to my dreary existence and face untold punishment, or gamble on an unknown future." He smiles broadly. "I like to gamble.

"I distracted my guardian long enough for the fey to escape ... and I went with them, back to their world." He looks at Grafth, Charis, Kal, and Streko. "You've seen me parlay quite a bit with those misshapen nasty creatures, the redcaps. Well, it was from two redcaps that I received much of my ... tutelage. And another fey, a beautiful woman..." His eyes take a far-off look. "...she educated me as well. It was overwhelming." He looks at Amal and says, "You've gotten a little taste of it, haven't you? Fascinating and frightening. And I knew there would be a price to pay one day."

He continues, "Things changed when one of my mentors was slain ... by humans. Other fey met similar fates. I was then cast out, not out of revenge, but on a mission of vengeance. Find out who was behind this and make them pay. With redcaps, no insult goes unanswered.

"When I came back, four years had passed since my departure ... and to my surprise, the Last War had been over for two years! That took a bit of getting used to. So... 'relearning' my trade as a scribe -- yes, indeed, that's what I am, my lady -- I earned some money and followed the clues from city to city. Eventually, I ended up here, in Fairhaven, where I learned about a project involving members of the Emerald Claw and our good Captain Relith. The rest, you know.... Malov is the villain here, and he'll suffer for what's he done -- to all of us."

After a moment, he chuckles. "I would've been a terrible cleric."

[Jeff]

"I like you, Belarin," Ralsor says when the human finishes. He raises his glass. "I'm quite glad we opted not to skewer you with our ballistae."

Lord Dassek clears his throat. "That's quite a story, Belarin. I'm surprised, but I believe most of it. I will tell you that I have heard of recent Emerald Claw activity moving in the Reaches—perhaps related to your experiences. But we've been unable to investigate such things...since the Western Reaches no longer acknowledge rightful Aundairian sovereignty." There's an edge of bitterness in his tone; somehow you're pretty sure Goran and Dassek would have butted heads constantly.

"So the Reachers are on their own. All they've got are the Wardens to do anything about the Emerald Claw. I hope it's sufficient." He holds Belarin's gaze with intensity. "But perhaps we can talk of this again once the ir'Turien's have been dealt with. I would be particularly keen to hear more about how you learned of a 'project involving members of the Emerald Claw' right here in my city.""

"Intriguing tale," Charis says then, trying to move the conversation along past Lord Dassek. "My uncl...that is, Aldronivus..would be interested to hear of it, too. He's based in Thrane, but his interests always seem to roam abroad."

"I'll drink to that," Ralsor says. His voice is beginning to slur. Then he poors the last of the Nightwood Ale into his glass again.

When the conversation reaches a lull, Lord Dassek speaks again. "Actually, it is only chance that...um, Condign is here with you at this time, because I cannot be in two places at once." Condign knows this is the first time Dassek has spoken his name. "Therefore I would prefer discretion regarding his homeland and anything further about his tale. Perhaps you may hear it again in the presence of the Queen's agents." He nods at Condign, and Condign understands the colonel is trying to protect his interests, not dismiss him.

Tangat sticks to Streko like alchemical glue, gulping down every bite of dragon salmon the halfling relinquishes as if he expects someone to try to take it from him.

Only a few minutes later, there is a knock at the door to your private dining hall. A waiter opens it and admits in the half-elf inquisitive, Lamara d'Medani.

"Please, my lady, come in," Lord Dassek says, standing.

"I'm glad you've had a chance to rest," the woman says, coming forward. Her gaze sweeps across the scene, taking everything in quickly with scrutiny—the laden table, half-empty plates, glasses of ale, water, and wine, Tangat licking Streko's fingers of fish oil, Lever standing at the window, Grafth's completely empty plate and well-used napkin, the empty bread dishes.

"I have some observations," she says after a moment. "And some questions."

"Asssk away, Lady d'Damani," Ralsor says as he scans the table for more alcohol.

Lamara fixes her eyes on the somewhat inebriated Lyrandar captain. She says nothing, just looks at him with her piercing eyes. You're not sure if she's just got that look, or if it's your expectation of what an esteemed inquisitive from the House of Detection ought to be like.

"I'll start with that scorch mark in the deck," she says. "It was made by fire, but something more. Alchemical frost? An admixture of opposing elements, extremely rare but not entirely unheard of among Aundairian mages. What created this? Was it a spell, or a device?"

[Darren]

"I couldn't tell you who created it," Kal says, not rising from his chair, "but I can tell you it's not the first time it was used against us. It came from a small vial, some kind of liquid. When thrown, it creates that fire. It was used against us in Passage, as well, by agents of the Emerald Claw, if memory serves. I was able to acquire one of the vials, actually, but was forced to use it against one of Malov's agents on our flight from Passage when we were attacked by some sort of winged creature and a host of Malov's. The same host who, we believe, is responsible for having infected Pellorien, one of our travelling companions who has already fallen to ir'Turien." Kal's eyes fall to the table upon speaking of Pel. He grows silent and takes a drink from the mug in front of him.

[Jeff]

It was used against us in Passage, as well, by agents of the Emerald Claw, if memory serves.

"In Passage?" Lamara asks. "Where? And did you or did you not encounter agents of Malov at the Ferenthoron residence here in Fairhaven several days ago?"

[Josh]

"Where haven't we been attacked?" Grafth mumbles. "Yes, unfortunately we did encounter some of Malov's gang at the Ferenthoron house, along with a member of House Orien who was investigating the rail crash on Mol. At the time we were under the assumption that someone intended the elimination of anyone who might shed light on the lightning rail accident. We too were looking into that tragedy."

[Jeff]

The inquisitive nods. "It is my belief that the lightning rail incident on the 2nd of Rhaan is related to these other events, yes. And it seems you are the common link."

Lamara walks over to the window and stares out. Lever moves away from it to give her space. "What remains unsubstantiated is the involvement of a wizard believed to have died two years past: Malov ir'Turien, as you keep insisting. In arcane circles, he is quite a well known figure. I wonder if someone isn't merely using his name."

She turns and looks at your party. "I'm aware of the attack in the Ferenthoron residence, and of the docking tower incident in Passage. But where else have you seen this frost fire before? It may be the best lead to Malov himself. Tell me what led you here, from start to end. Will you tell me your story, at least in brief? You didn't know each other before the rail incident, did you?"

[Ken]

Belarin reclines in his seat, interested to hear the full story of the lightning rail incident himself, having only gotten pieces of it before. As his companions speak, he lets his gaze drift over to Lamara, a flirtatious smile on his lips.

__________________
OOC: Actually, Belarin is staring at her and using the Arcana skill to detect magic. I'd roll on Invisible Castle, but it seems to be down at the moment.

[Josh]

"On the 2nd of Rhaan, several of us boarded the lightning rail in Fairhaven, bound for Passage. At this point I knew no one sitting before you now. Aboard, we met a man calling himself 'Gurend' who had been mortally wounded at the Fairhaven station just before boarding. He entrusted to us a book, which your authorities have currently confiscated.

"Gurend, a changeling, had betrayed his comrades by stealing the book away from them, and paid the price for his treachery. Before he could tell us more, the railcar erupted in flame. Or, more appropriately, this icy blue flame of which you inquire. The blast seemed to originate from a warforged aboard the car. If not for the heroic sacrifice of a warrior of the Silver Flame, we might all have perished. His magic shielded us as the car erupted.

"Before we had time to gather our wits and escape the wreckage we were beset upon by the Order of Emerald Claw... a troop under the command of a man named Davin. After defeating them, we picked up the trail of a gnome who was aboard the train. We believed him to be the one who set off the attack, though it appeared to be against his will.

"With ease we tracked Fenwolt Ferenthoron to a farm, where he confessed that he had been hired to sabotage cargo aboard the lightning rail, but had been tricked into setting off the blast within range of passengers. We decided to return to Fairhaven with Fenwolt but were attacked once again by the Emerald Claw, this time by a party with several foul undead soldiers.

"Alas, Fenwolt was slain by this unsavory troop. One of the soldiers told us that dispatching the poor gnome was their goal. Whether or not he was to be believed, I cannot say. We continued on to Fairhaven hoping to find answers... and now additionally to seek out Ferenthoron's family and deliver the news of his demise."

Grafth takes a drink of ale, exhales forcefully, and continues. "Arriving in Fairhaven, Lord Kalarian sought out the Deneith enclave, where he met Streko. He set up a meeting with Lady Korvine, while another member of our group—now fallen to Malov's evil—located the Ferenthoron residence, only to find Fenwolt's family had also been slain.

"When Master Tavven here learned of our deeds of the past day, and as we described the events of the rail crash, he implied that the halfling on our car fit the description of his very own sister, Varna, and the "red-haired boy" sounded quite like Malov, a man he had met not long before his introduction to Kalarian.

"Both of these people, as well as a shifter, were alive at the site of the wreckage, but at the time seemed of little import and were left to fend for themselves.

"That evening, we met with Lady Korvine d'Deneith to share information regarding the rail crash, as the Defender's Guild had quite an interest in the matter, as I'm sure you know. At the mention of Malov, we were told for the first time of the reputation of Malov ir'Turian and the Dark Echelon.

"Our meeting ended rather abruptly as several of our party, no longer with us for various reasons, became impatient. As Kalarian mentioned earlier, our behaviour before Lady Korvine was less than respectful... quite regrettable.

"At any rate, we returned to the Ferenthoron residence to investigate Pel's claims that Fenwolt's family had been murdered, only to encounter a member of House Orien, a woman by the name of Taymra, who was investigating the rail crash independent of our party."

The shifter sighs, a bit exhausted from storytelling. "At this point it was clear to us that no one was meant to witness the rail sabotage and survive. For whatever reason Malov, or someone posing as him, was intent on keeping his motives a secret.

"Once again we fell under attack, and with Taymra's help we defeated our foes and were able to extract this information: those who attacked us were after the very book that Gurend had left to us. This informative rogue was to meet with a man named Urek—some petty thug, I took it—to deliver the book to Malov.

"Obviously, this did not happen, so more of Malov's henchmen were sent to pursue us. A mere hour later, a band of warforged were set against us in a tenement building, having blasted their way into the upper levels from an airship.

"We escaped death or capture once again... something we seem to be rather adept at, and with Taymra d'Orien's assurance that someone she knew in Passage might be able to help them, resumed our voyage, once again by lightning rail."

Grafth pauses, eyeing the bottom of his tankard, then the inquisitive. "Now," he says, "before I continue, I believe this will need to be refilled. Any questions thus far?"

[Jeff]

He entrusted to us a book, which your authorities have currently confiscated.

"For the record," Lamara interrupts with a polite gesture, then nods to Lord Dassek. "That book is in the possession of the court. I have had only a brief look at it. With the court's permission, I may learn more if I am given a chance to secure it—in its lead casing, I will add. I realize it's a lure." With that, she indicates that Grafth can continue.

"Gurend, a changeling, had betrayed his comrades by stealing the book away from them, and paid the price for his treachery."

"Gurend," Lamara repeats softly, as if committing the name to memory.

We decided to return to Fairhaven with Fenwolt but were attacked once again by the Emerald Claw, this time by a party with several foul undead soldiers.

Lamara shakes her head at this. "The Order has been active lately."

""When Master Tavven here learned of our deeds of the past day, and as we described the events of the rail crash, he implied that the halfling on our car fit the description of his very own sister, Varna, and the "red-haired boy" sounded quite like Malov, a man he had met not long before his introduction to Kalarian."

"Before his alleged death two years ago, Malov was known to be a mage of illusions. Yet now there is talk of possession, not illusion. Did this red-haired young man seem real to you? Was anything 'off' about him?"

"That evening, we met with Lady Korvine d'Deneith to share information regarding the rail crash, as the Defender's Guild had quite an interest in the matter, as I'm sure you know. At the mention of Malov, we were told for the first time of the reputation of Malov ir'Turian and the Dark Echelon."

"This Lady Korvine sounds very knowledgeable, and a solid ally. I may wish to speak with her." She looks to Dassek, who nods.

only to encounter a member of House Orien, a woman by the name of Taymra, who was investigating the rail crash independent of our party."

"Is this Taymra a dragonmarked member of her house, or a mere courier or hireling?"

A mere hour later, a band of warforged were set against us in a tenement building, having blasted their way into the upper levels from an airship.

"Yes, there was an incident several days ago, an airship which was chased from the city after the tenement block attack."

"Now," he says, "before I continue, I believe this will need to be refilled.

Lamara nods. "It seems obvious—perhaps too obvious—that the lightning rail explosion was meant either to kill Gurend, a traitor to the ir'Turiens, or an act of diversion. Such overt terrorism is not easy to carry out these days, and it draws a great deal of attention when it does happen. But this frost fire energy—the explosion, the smaller attacks, the scorch mark on the airship—is a hallmark of Malov's, a favorite of his when he was part of the Arcane Congress. If he's intent on being secretive, why give himself away like that? Unless, again, we're looking at an imposter who wants to play the part of Malov. Please, go on, if you will. This is extremely helpful."

Ralsor snatches Grafth's tankard away and peers into it as well. "The Rightwood Ale is gone, friend shiftering," he says mournfully.

Lord Dassek flags down a server and orders one more bottle.

[Josh]

"Very well..."

working on part 2, give me a few