Chapter 5: Blood and Fire

[Ken]

"Streko, you charismatic scoundrel!" says Belarin. "Why, you're not even trying, and the women are practically swooning at your presence!"

Nov 6, 2009 11:40:39 GMT -4 Jeff said:

Belarin can't help but imagine now that each gnome he glimpses, or each rare elf who passes by, could be an agent of the fey. They all go about their business in this, one of the most populated cities in the world, but just how far does Thelanis's gaze reach?

Belarin looks around at the variety of people, and he says in a voice that Streko can barely hear, "All right, I don't ask for much from you ... well, I suppose I do ... but some sort of sign would be nice. Damn, I knew I should have said, 'Wear a red waistcoat so I'll know you.'"

[Jeff]

Kal and Condign

All eyes turn to Kal—and his unusual companion. The bearded orator smiles at Kal's question, seeming quite delighted for the audience participation.

"A fair question, my lord!" the man says, his voice louder than Kal's from whatever minor magic he's employing. He absently strums the strings of his lute once, setting a single chord through the air. "I possess no great wisdom, only common sense. What I have proposed some of the good people here could repeat to you, though they may be afraid to do so.

"The monarchy of this elegant nation has brought us where we are today, my lord, to our achievements and high civilization. But it has also brought us to war. Had King Jarot I been a statesman of a great democracy, his death would not have rippled into such conflict and strife. The Last War needn't have been. Jarot's heirs would not have squabbled, then drawn blades, to claim his seat of power. Because his power would merely be equal to his peers.

"We must dispel this war footing that Queen Aurala has planted us in. The system, as is, isn't working. Enemies slip through the nets of tradition and monarchy. Only a revolution of the masses—heralded by truth and nonviolence—will prevail."

The orator pauses, eyes studying Kal and Condign. There is a murmur in the crowd. The guards in particular are focused on the tiefling.

Belarin & Streko

As Belarin finishes his last words, there's a commotion ahead of them in the street. Childish laughter heralds a swirl of color as two kids burst into view, chasing one another. Leading is a small gir, probably 7 or 8 years old, and her pursuer is a boy probably 10 years of age. Both are laughing, so neither seem alarmed.

But they don't seem to see Belarin or Streko. The little girl's eyes widen at the last moment...just before colliding with Streko.

"Ahk!" she squeals as both halfling and human child tumble to the ground. Streko gets a bruise but is no worse from the wear. The girl looks more startled than hurt.

"I'm sorry!" the boy shouts, stopping short and looking up at Belarin, then down at his friend and Streko, who are struggling to stand again. "I didn't mean...didn't see..."

Grafth

The young man Grafth is watching makes no particularly suspicious moves. He just walks with his head slightly tilted downward, as if minding his own business.

Then he looks sidelong again, just as a commotion takes place over by Belarin and Streko. Grafth sees a couple of kids have accidentally stumbled into his friends. The young man takes note, too; his brows come together as if concerned and he begins to stride toward the duo purposefully.

[Joe]

Streko instinctively begins feeling around himself, ensuring that prying little hands haven't ensconsed with anything important. He looks up at Belarin and motions for him to do likewise.

"What are your names, young ones? And worry not, my child," he says to the girl, "the weight of House Jorasco will not come down upon you for causing a simple bruise. However, my friend here is a might wizard and might not take kindly to being run aground by people half his age. What say you, my friend?"

The entire time, Streko smiles warmly, even as he surreptitiously checks his haversack and coin purse to ensure everything is where it should be.

[Darren]

Kal's eyes drift over the crowd. He seems to appreciate the attention. When he opens his mouth to speak, his voice, too, comes forth louder than is natural. "I, too, believe in peace and non-violence. I say this as a soldier, as someone who served in the Last War. Consider, though, the good things you have. Consider the excellent position Her Majesty has put Aundair in. Do not be so quick to dismiss those who seek to protect you. Perhaps you must occasionally sacrifice, but it is the responsibility of all people in the land to do their part so that the land as a whole can succeed. It's true here, and it's true across the Five Nations."

____________________
Two things:

First, hopefully I'm not, once again, misinterpreting Ghost Sound. If I understand it correctly, it should work to do what I've said above.

Second, can you give us any background on where Aundair and the Queen stand in regards to war? I unfortunately feel like I'm now engaged in a political debate where I literally know nothing of the side I'm arguing.

[Jeff]

Ghost Sound will do, Darren.

Although this is only immediately relevant to Kal and Condign at the moment, I've rolled for everyone so you can all keep it in mind for future reference. Relating to the Last War and foreign relations...

History checks:
• Belarin (1d20+3=15)
• Condign (1d20+9=23)
• Kal (1d20+7=23)
• Grafth (1d20+3=23)
• Streko (1d20+4=9)

All know: Like all the Five Nations, Aundair takes its name from one of Galifar ir'Wynarn's children, the first king's eldest daughter. Rule passed from one scion to another until the death of King Jarot, at which point Galifar ceased to be and civil war began. Aundair's current royal line descends from King Jarot's son Wrogar. The dynasty has ruled continuously—aside from a single period of regency—through the trials of the last century. Queen Aurala ir'Wynarn, the current monarch, is known for her beauty, cunning, and diplomatic expertise.

Condign, Kal, Grafth know: Aundair suffered greatly during the Last War and might have collapsed in the latter years had it not been for Aurala's talent and diplomatic skill. She reforged ties between the monarchy and the nobles that had been frayed to the point of unraveling by the toll of war, deftly trading a few royal prerogatives for renewed oaths of fealty. Despite her skill at negotiation, Aurala showed no flexibility with regard to the Cyran problem. After the Mourning—the mysterious magical cataclysm which destroyed the nation of Cyre—she closed her nation's borders to the Cyran refugees, fearing they would carry the curse to her nation, or simply overwhelm the country's strained social fabric. Considering how much Aundair supported Cyre during the long years of war, this act was considered by many to be a grave betrayal. Partially acknowledging her misstep, Aural now supports a new Cyran homeland—as long as it does not lie within her lands.

Streetwise checks: (In this case, Streetwise really just equates what you've learned from social interactions, talking to people, not actual study of any kind.)

• Belarin (1d20+4=20)
• Condign (1d20+4=9)
• Kal (1d20+10=15)
• Grafth (1d20+1=11)
• Streko (1d20+5=10)

All know: Aundair seems to be the nation with the greatest lingering grudge—especially against the Eldeen Reaches and against Thrane for lost land. While every nation has much to lose with renewed war, Aundair perhaps has the least to lose. In general, it often seems to see itself as a victim, and would be happy to reclaim some of its ancient holdings.

Belarin, Kal know: Queen Aurala pledged to maintain the peace, but beyond her dealings with Breland (which are fairly good), she has had little luck in finding common ground with her rivals. She keeps Karrnath at arm's length. She suspects treachery in that nation's aggressive and mysterious king, and has put off signing any long-term alliances.

If Aundair's relations with Karrnath are cool, its dealings with Thrane are completely frozen. Aundair wants much of the land it had stolen by Thrane back, along with reparations for the years that the city of Thaliost has been in Thrane hands. The Aundair-Thrane border, one of the most hotly disputed aspects of the Treaty of Thronehold, forces both nations to keep their armies poised for defense—or invasion. Both nations engage in diplomatic missions and have embassies in each other's country, but they quickly recall ambassadors when tensions run high.

Of the remaining Five Nations, Aundair is the only one not participating in the "foreign exchange" of royals.

[Josh]

Grafth keeps pace with the strange as he moves toward Belarin and Streko, though he still intends to be a passive observer if that course of action seems prudent.

[Ken]

Belarin & Streko

"Ahk!" she squeals as both halfling and human child tumble to the ground. Streko gets a bruise but is no worse from the wear. The girl looks more startled than hurt.

"I'm sorry!" the boy shouts, stopping short and looking up at Belarin, then down at his friend and Streko, who are struggling to stand again. "I didn't mean...didn't see..."

"Carelessness... tsk tsk," chides Belarin teasingly. "Running without looking is never wise. Oh, it can lead to entertaining results, but it's never wise." Despite the smile on his face, he studies the two children carefully, then he casually glances behind. From his earlier time in this city's darker streets, he knows that "accidental" distraction is often a prelude to crime. "What is your name, lad?"

[Jeff]

Belarin & Streko

As subtly as he can, Streko pats himself down to see if anything missing. Doesn't seem to be. The pockets of his haversack seem to be still closed up. The little girl looks to be much too young to be an effective pickpocket—but then again, Streko lived some years in Sharn. He knows they start young.

Streko:

"And worry not, my child," he says to the girl, "the weight of House Jorasco will not come down upon you for causing a simple bruise."

The girl seems calmed at first, but mention of a dragonmarked house widens her eyes fearfully.
Belarin:

"What is your name, lad?

Despite Belarin's friendly tone, the question seems to spook the boy, as if giving up his name would ensure a death sentence.

Despite the smile on his face, he studies the two children carefully, then he casually glances behind.

Just as he turns behind, there is a newcomer. A young man, probably Belarin's own age, and just about as well dressed as he—except, of course, nothing in the man's attire is as fine as Belarin's feyweave outerware.

The man storms onto the scene. He pats Belarin on the shoulder for a moment, politely moving him aside so he can get to the children. "Little rat!" the man shouts—drawing a few nearby gazes from the sheer volume of it—lashing his other arm forward and grabbing the boy by the scruff of his neck. "One more time and you're dog meat."

Only now does Belarin and Streko notice that the boy has a bruise around one eye—mostly healed and faded by now—suggestive of past reprimands.

The young man looks at Belarin as if for the first time, his scowl melting away. "I am sorry, sir. My kid brother keeps running off and getting into trouble. The noontime crowds are no place to get lost." The little girl is frozen in place, her eyes going this way and that. She looks like she might bolt.

Grafth

From his nearby vantage, Grafth sees the young man standing beside and speaking to Belarin, but there's too many people moving back and forth to get a better look without getting right up close to them.

[Darren]

Thanks for the info, Jeff.

I don't know if you're waiting for me or Brian, but I was waiting on you.

[Jeff]

Kal & Condign

Kal:

"Perhaps you must occasionally sacrifice, but it is the responsibility of all people in the land to do their part so that the land as a whole can succeed."

"Right you are, Lord d'Deneith," the man says, his eyes clearly sharp. "But it is precisely this principle I wish to see carried to its logical conclusion. Only with a democracy will the will of the people—like these good people here—be heard. A single woman carries out the will of a single woman; a lady of nobility and royalty and wealth, who does not know what it means to rise before dawn and tend to the manifold needs of a struggling farm, who does not know what it means to pray that a crop survives a savage storm, and who does not know what it is to pray each day that enemy soldiers do not march across her land, seize her property, or kill her sons.

"Even your own house, my lord, operates more as a government should. Baron Breven is not a king, though his house wields as much power as any court in the Five Nations. A gathering of viceroys and lords—the Lords Senechal—balances his authority, ensuring that House Deneith does not enact the will of one. Advancement in your house, my lord, is earned through deed and merit—is this not so? Every man and woman with the desire to be heard can steer their house to glory. The same cannot be said of Queen Aurala's subjects."

The members of the Watch look uncomfortable, but both Kal and Condign realize that this man is clearly a well-known persona to them. His tone is persuasive, and he doesn't carry himself with a rabble-rouser vibe. It seems to both of them that he is a true believer of his words. Many in the crowd shake their heads with firm disapproval. Still others seem intrigued. Considering the number of young, well-to-do people in the crowd, it's clear to Kal that students from the University number among them.

Neither Kal nor Condign see Lamara in the crowds, but they know she was tailing them and is probably well aware of the attention they're drawing.

[Darren]

"You speak as one who has clearly never been in a position of authority," Kal says, his louder-than-normal voice carrying across the crowd between him and the other man. "True, Her Majesty has probably never had to toil in a field. But do you know what it is to consider the fate of EVERYONE in the kingdom, not just those under your roof? Do you understand what it is to have your decisions affect the fortunes of hundreds of thousands? Do you know the burden of ordering soldiers to fight, to die, because you know that it is what MUST be done to ensure the prosperity of the land? My friend, you look at a small portion of the picture, while the Queen must study the entire tapestry. You judge without full knowledge, and certainly without empathy."

[Jeff's backup]

Condign steps forward next to Kal. With a slight bow to the man with the lute, he says loudly: "My lord, you speak generously of the queen's thoughts and feelings, her day-to-day activities. How long have you personally known Queen Aurala?"

[Ken]

The young man looks at Belarin as if for the first time, his scowl melting away. "I am sorry, sir. My kid brother keeps running off and getting into trouble. The noontime crowds are no place to get lost." The little girl is frozen in place, her eyes going this way and that. She looks like she might bolt.

"No, no, there's no harm," says Belarin. "In fact, it's quite opportune." Streko may hear a faint sound, like the echo of a tiny silver bell, but for nearly everyone else, it's lost in the clamor around them. Belarin shrugs his shoulder haughtily, and Streko hears a clear difference in Belarin's normal bantering tone. "As I was telling the representative of House Jorasco here, Fairhaven is a model city. People here are extremely polite, and kind to the innocent. I stressed this fact in court with His Highness this morning, did I not, my Lord?" He turns briefly to Streko for confirmation.

"Now..." his tone becoming slightly more menacing. "...about this bruise on the boy's face. That's not the work of a neighborhood bully. That's the handiwork of someone stronger, some degenerate who feels the need to abuse those weaker than him. For now, I'm willing to believe it was the work of a foreigner, perhaps some crude Karrnathi oaf. However..." He takes a step forward. "If I discover that a adult resident of our fair city is capable of beating up children, well, that would make me and Prince Aurad liars. And I'd be very, very upset.

"So, two commands for you: Tell me your name. Then vow before the Sovereign Host that no harm shall come to these children ever again."

_______________________________
OOC: Belarin is using his beguiling tongue power and making a Bluff check.
Bluff check (1d20+14=30)
If you think Intimidate is more appropriate, then the result is 25.

[Jeff]

Kal & Condign

Kal:

Do you understand what it is to have your decisions affect the fortunes of hundreds of thousands? Do you know the burden of ordering soldiers to fight, to die, because you know that it is what MUST be done to ensure the prosperity of the land?

Some in the crowd seem displeased by these words. The orator shakes his head and says with a grim smile, "I am afraid words like these have been used before, many times over, to justify control over the masses for personal reasons. The 'burden of authority' is no longer an excuse the people of Aundair can stomach."

Condign:

How long have you personally known Queen Aurala?"

The bearded man looks keenly at Condign. "I will hazard a guess that you are not from Aundair? I know of my Queen quite well. I daresay she might even know me."

Belarin & Streko

Belarin:

"So, two commands for you: Tell me your name. Then vow before the Sovereign Host that no harm shall come to these children ever again."

The young man pales at Belarin's words and tone. Although he doesn't say his name, he looks firmly flustered and his words jumble together in a bit of a stutter. "N-no, sir. No harm. No harm at all. I am sorry, we...we are sorry. It was all, umm, mistaken identity."

He backs away a step and holds out his left hand—in which he nervously grips Belarin's pact blade, which had somehow been deftly drawn from its sheath without Belarin's notice.

"Th...thought you were someone else, sir. Someone bad. I wouldn't have taken." He allows Belarin to snatch his weapon back, then drags the boy along with him and flees. "No harm!" he calls out, voice still fearful. The little girl follows warily, more puzzled than anything else.

Grafth

From his distance, Grafth can see the young man backing away. He didn't hear the words, but it looks like he was warned off by Belarin's will.

[Darren]

Kal sighs, his amplified voice making it sound like the wind blowing. "It is a shame you understand so little." He turns to leave, but then turns back as though remembering something. "What you propose could lead to civil war. As someone who does not advocate bloodshed, I would suggest you consider your words more carefully." With that he does turn, deciding that the distraction has gone on long enough, and hoping that word of his presence here will begin to spread.

[Joe]

Streko stares up at Belarin and shuts his mouth. "By the Sovereign Host, you are quite amazing, my friend. I had only suspcions, but you...well, you handled that quite well. I am extremely impressed. How did you know he had your blade and that this "older brother" was part of the ruse? What tipped you off? Olladra's Grace, but you have my deepest interest and full attention!"

[Ken]

"Oh, well, Streko..." says Belarin, "when you've spent as much time mingling with thieves and dastards as I have, you develop a sort of 'extra sense' in these matters. Similar to the way I can detect mead at 50 paces -- well, that was a gift of the fey. Anyway, weren't we talking about esoteric, intellectual matters?" With a wave of his hand, he invites Streko to continue walking. "Or were we talking about food? I can't recall."

Streko will notice that at no time does Belarin make eye contact with him.

[Joe]

"I believe you were discussing my unnatural magic with the fairer sex and I was speaking of Talenta Spice Sauges and Aundarian meade. Pity that I am not the sort to mix the two pleasures together...I might get more accomplished with my time, would I not? But perhaps this isn't a conversation suited for the mission at hand? After all, we do have somewhere to be somewhen, do we not?"

He walks at Belarin's side and, without glancing at his friend, says, "And don't think you're deft change of subject can so easily quench the thirst of curiosity, although I hope curiosity doesn't kill the cat in this case. Granted, I have little in common with most cats...aside from my penchant for surviving certain death on numerous occasions."

Streko falls into a bit of mumbling before turning completely silent and simply following Belarin's lead.

[Jeff's backup]

Condign, realizing that Kalarian is best equipped to handle this particular situation, follows his lead and turns to go.

[Jeff]

Kal & Condign

As they turn and walk away, they hear the orator continue. Many people watch them go, murmurs rippling among them. The speaker's voice grows quieter the further away Kal and Condign walk, and they can just make out: "...Indeed, his heart is in the right place. This nation needs officials who think of the bigger picture but also attend to the needs of the individual...."

As they continue south towards the University, more buildings of the Sovereign ward come into view. Kal knows this isn't too far from the Ferenthoron residence, reminding him of the gnome whose involvement in the lightning rail incident and subsequent death first roped him into this affair.

In this part of the city, there is much to see and hear. Street vendors are scattered along the avenue, spaced out just enough so that Watch doesn't harass them to move along. A small group of young Sovereign Host acolytes walks the opposite direction, led by a robed priest. All of them hone in on Condign as they pass by, and as they drift out of sight, both tiefling and Deneith heir can hear them erupting into a discussion—certain that the appearance of a red-skinned, black-horned man got it started. Kal's hope to draw attention to themselves has definitely succeeded. He knows that Belarin and Streko, less impeded, are probably nearing their destination.

Condign notices that every now and then a warforged can be seen moving among the crowds. They also draw attention, like him, but do not get quite as drastic a reaction. Warforged are walking reminders of the Last War, but a tiefling is something altogether new to most of them.

Suddenly, the shrill voice of a human teenager interrupts their leisurely pace. "Special edition of the Chronicle coming soon!" she shouts, waving a rolled up stack of papers in her hand. "Fires in Fairhaven—happenstance or malice? A random chain of ominous events...or has the Dark Echelon returned to Aundair?!"

A couple of citizens have already stopped by the girl, who stands on the corner of an intersection. They are looking at a single sheet of parchment that the girl is handing out.

"Nonsense," one man says, dropping the sheet in his hand.

A halfling woman picks up the sheet and peruses it. "Is this for real?" she asks the girl. There is some quiet conversation between them.

Belarin & Streko

The grandiose facade of the University rise into view. The University—the most prestigious school in all of Khorvaire, though it is not as well known as Sharn's Morgrave University—encompasses six sprawling structures. Each seems to be a mixture of dormitories, apartments, libraries, restaurants, coffee* houses, theaters, classrooms, laboratories, and museums. But after walking alongside them for several minutes, it's clear that the best "behind the University" would be just beyond the southernmost building, where a paved plaza is arranged with patches of grass and well-tended gardens. The outer wall of the building, facing south, has a large clock face—and currently shows that it is halfway between the 12th hour mark and the 1st.

Given the lunch hour, this part of the University is packed with students, curious citizens, and visitors. Most are human, but a large number of elves, half-elves, dwarves, gnomes, halflings also fill in the crowd. There are even a few scattered warforged, shifters, and even a few goblins in the mix. Some are sitting on benches, others relaxing in the grass, some studying schoolbooks. Most are just gathered into noisy social groups. It's hard to know where to begin—knowing that somewhere amidst this group there may be an agent of Thelanis.

Grafth

Grafth sees all that Belarin and Steko have seen, but he hasn't spotted anything suspicious and finds the walk to be pleasant and uneventful. He enjoys his snack in peace, and doesn't seem to draw any lingering glances himself. There is a vital pulse in this city that he can't help but find appealing—a social prosperity strong despite the hardship's of the still-fresh war. Of course, to one such as Grafth, he'd probably prefer to observe that pulse than participate in it. But one never knows.

Occasionally, he passes by a solder or mercenary type with a spear in hand. Seeing all these sturdy spears has him a little jealous.

Soon Grafth sees Belarin and Streko reach the furthest end of the University campus grounds, a lush plaza in the shadow of its southmost building. He sees them enter the noontime crowds.

__________________________________

* Yup, coffee exists in Eberron. It's an import in this part of the world, and is not as popular as most alcoholic drinks, but it's becoming more popular among the well-to-do.

[Darren]

Pushing up his sleeves so that his blue dragonmark stands out starkly against his forearm, Kal walks up to the GIRL. He rests his sharrash against his shoulder and reaches out his right hand. "I'll take one of those, please." Paying the GIRL, he looks down at the concerned halfling and reads a few words over her shoulder. "I very much doubt the validity of these claims, my dear," he says with a comforting smile. "Half of what they print in these so-called chronicles is rumour, these days. It's sad that the chroniclers have forgotten the art of real reporting."

____________________
I don't know if a Bluff check is in order or necessary here. Kal's just trying to comfort the crowd.

GEEZ! You can't expect me to actually read EVERY word, can you??

[Joe]

She could LOOK like a boy to Kalarian, couldn't she? I'd prefer to give Kal the benefit of the doubt.
____________________________________________________

Streko looks around at all of the various people. "Would our contact appear in such crowded circumstances?" The question is rhetorical, not directed at Belarin.

"All these people. Bound together by the thirst for knowledge, the curioisty of magic. It seems so devoid of belief...so enamored with science. One would think Olladra would be greatly loved, or perhaps loathed, here. But I sense no powerful emotion for Her. My bond with Her carries such lonliness with it in this place."

He glances up at Belarin. "It is a sadness I am unaccostomed to, friend Belarin, nor do I understand it. Even at the clinics of House Jorrasco, there was a great deal of devotion towards deities, be they the Soverign Host or the Silver Flame or even he Dark Six. I feel little of that here and I weep for its absence."

[Ken]

Belarin says, "There's more cause for optimism that you think, Good Streko." He looks around, smiling at the activity. "The people here... questing for knowledge, trying to understand how things work. Why things work. Is it really so different from a more spiritual path? Might their research into the myriad connections around us not lead some of them to conclude that a higher power must be behind it all?

"And consider, too, that many of these people are of the faith already. They may just not display it openly in front of their peers. Come now, you're not that old! You remember the rebelliousness of your younger days! For many, it's not... hmm, 'socially in style' to display allegiance to any organization at this age.

"But those that DO believe and DO study... would they not then become more capable, more enlightened members of the faith? Don't be so quick to equate study of sciences or the arcane with a lack of faith, my caring friend."

He chuckles. "Of course, I'm a heathen who dances with nymphs, so take my words as you will!"

He looks down at his belt, confirming that the pact dagger is still there. "Now, to matters at hand..." He removes the dagger from its sheath and holds it, yet he tries to use his cloak to shield it from onlookers. "Stand in front of me, please, Streko. Waving a sharp dagger around in front of impressionable students would probably not be the wisest thing. This weapon belonged to the Wood Mistress. If we cannot easily find our fey friend, perhaps we can lure him or her to us. Let's head for one of the larger trees.... Perhaps that one?"

He begins walking slowly, encouraging Streko to stay slightly in front of him. All the while he focuses his attention on the pact dagger, trying to strum one of the intangible strings of fey energy that envelop and inhabit it.

[Jeff's backup]

Condign walks up to stand next to Kalarian. He looks down at the girl holding out the sheets of paper. He glances at the other children playing about the intersection. He turns to Kal and comments: "Sometimes, my lord, it is hard for me to tell the difference between your young girls and boys, they look so much alike."

After he takes some time to look over the paper that Kal purchased, he asks the human: "I feel at a loss, my lord Kalarian. I know what transpires at this university is important, but I do not understand what we are to accomplish? How does it pertain to our efforts to stop what is happening?"

[Jeff]

Kal & Condign

The girl accepts Kal's coins with a delighted smile. But he realizes that he's just tipped her, that the paper is free, as it's only an advertisement for some special edition of the Korranburg Chronicle.

Kal:

"I very much doubt the validity of these claims, my dear," he says with a comforting smile. "Half of what they print in these so-called chronicles is rumour, these days. It's sad that the chroniclers have forgotten the art of real reporting."

The halfling nods at Kal. "You're probably right." She walks away, but holds the paper in her hand, still clearly intrigued.

Condign:

"Sometimes, my lord, it is hard for me to tell the difference between your young girls and boys, they look so much alike."

The girl stares open-mouthed at Condign while he speaks. Her face reddens with embarrassment, and she takes one step backward, away from him.

There is very little actual information on the single page in Kal's hand, just bold and fancy calligraphy informing the reader of what's to come:

Is this the return of Malov ir'Turien
...And the reinstatement of the Dark Echelon?
Coming soon!
A firsthand account of the heroes brave enough
to stand against this villain of the past.

Penned by Fherina Hartsdale,
chronicler and exclusive witness
to extraordinary events

Beneath these words is a sketchy illustration of a cloaked figure drawn as a silhouette. Above and behind the figure—meant to represent Malov?—are three floating castles. Likely the floating towers of Arcanix, where Malov was allegedly expelled from.

The way the ad is put together, it almost looks like a sign for some upcoming theater production. There's no other information on it.

_________________________

How much is Kal paying? I need specifics whenever coins exchange hands.

A post for the others coming, probably tomorrow.

[Josh]

Soon Grafth sees Belarin and Streko reach the furthest end of the University campus grounds, a lush plaza in the shadow of its southmost building. He sees them enter the noontime crowds.

Confident that things are calm and as safe as they can hope for, Grafth quickens his pace enough to catch up to Belarin and Streko without making an obvious attempt to join them.

[Darren]

I actually only put the part about the coins in there because I assumed the paper cost something and assumed you would deduct the proper amount. Kal will, I guess, just give her a copper.

I'll post more later. I just got back from rehearsal a little while ago and I'm kinda beat.

[Jeff's backup]

After reading the advertisement for the Malov story, Condign looks at Kalarian and says: "Fherina? Is that not the name of the gnome aboard the ship?"

---------------------
OOC: Well guys, it's early morning and I'm shipping out. I'll be back sometime Tuesday. Have fun. Be safe. I still may try Darren's suggestion to kill the deer with a knife. Oh wait, they're too fast. Maybe a bear instead!

[Jeff]

Belarin, Streko, and Grafth

Belarin, with Streko in tow, ends up beneath his tree of choice, attempting to discover fey attention with his pact blade. He looks left and right, and even in the branches of tree above him, searching for someone or something that might be watching back. After several minutes of this, five particular individuals in the array of students and tourists stand out to him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, voices whisper that the one he seeks is one of these five. But which?

Streko notices Belarin's scrutiny, and Grafth, who has moved in closer, also catches sight of the five different candidates. It's apparent to them both which ones "stand out"...

1. A sandy-haired, wiry human performing sleight of hand tricks with a deck of cards for a small crowd of students. His hands move rapidly above the collapsible table he's set up, accepting bets. Every now and then, he glances furtively up at Belarin.

2. A gnome with her nose in a book, sitting on a small, hovering disk of conjured force beneath a nearby tree. Dressed in the colorful fashions of Zilargo, she seems to have blocked out the world around her, so intent is she on her book. Her large, dark eyes never leave the pages of her book—an elegant tome of black leather—but Belarin would certainly be in her peripheral.

3. A young dwarf lies flat on his back in a patch of well-tended grass, and appears to be napping. His beard is neatly combed and his hands are clasped across his rounded stomach. Between his fingers is a small wooden figurine. It's been carved in the rough shape of a centaur and looks newly whittled—shavings are peppered in the grass around the dwarf. His chest rises and falls steadily, and though you can't hear through all the noontime chatter, the dwarf looks like he's snoring. A now-empty lunch pack lies beside him.

4. A yellow-skinned goblin* sits on a squat stone seat, rifling through a sheaf of ratty papers. Lacking a bag or even any books, his clothing is of decent quality, certainly finer than any goblin you've seen wear before, but it's well-worn and not especially clean, suggesting it's the only clothing he's got. Tucked under his arm is a rusty-colored hat with a short brim. Unlike the gnome, the goblin constantly looks this way and that, like a skittish dog afraid someone will take away his bone. He seems to be expecting one of the more "civilized" people to mess with him.

5. A pair of elves—one male, one female, both slender and beautiful—sitting together on a bench of their own, intimately close, talking quietly and generally paying no mind to anyone else. The male wears a scarf on his head, tucked behind his pointed ears, while the female wears a pair of green-hued spectacles and tosses raven black hair this way and that. Thrice now she's glanced Belarin's way...at least he thinks so.

All five of these prospective agents appear to be students in some form. Belarin's long experience with the fey—or perhaps the whispers in his mind—tell him that a challenge is afoot. One of these is most certainly the agent of Thelanis, is aware of Belarin, wants to be guessed. It is sometimes just their way. Guess correctly and there will be cooperation. Guess incorrectly and be subject to mere whimsy.

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Belarin's Arcana check (1d20+16=21)

* Before the arrival of humans to the continent of Khorvaire, the Dhakaani Empire of goblins and hobgoblins ruled supreme. Their empire was eventually fractured by an invasion of planar monstrosities; though they won that war, the empire was decimated (about 5 thousand years ago) and became ripe for human usurpation. Nowadays, most goblins, hobgoblins, and bugbears reside in the nation of Darguun to the south, but goblinkind can still be found scattered among other nations. They're almost always second-class citizens.

[Ken]

Belarin crosses his arms and smiles, "Well, this should be fun." He explains the situation to Streko and Grafth.

"Sooo, let's review our candidates:

"First, the card-flipping trickster over there. He glances at me now and then, but that's likely because he thinks I'll expose his game.

"Second, that gnome reading the book. I'd like to talk to her, regardless, since I want to find out what's in that book. If it's an elaborate recipe for chicken in a white wine sauce, I'll be disappointed.

"Third, the sleeping dwarf. He's got potential. We left the fey's presence in the company of centaurs, after all.

"Fourth, the goblin. Seems a little too jittery to be a member of the fey. Most of them wouldn't show nervousness if a lightning-throwing medusa showed up at their front door. But I like his hat.

"Lastly, the elven couple. The woman has been glancing at me, but that's understandable, as I am extremely handsome, even by elven standards. Still, there's no reason why two messengers wouldn't have come."

Looking at Grafth and Streko, he continues, "So, at this point, I'm leaning toward talking to the dwarf first. Hopefully, that's the correct choice, and we can resolve this quickly, so that I can then introduce myself to the elven enchantress and make plans to seduce her once this whole Malov business is over. Thoughts?"