Chapter 7: Unconscious Revelations

[Jeff]

"To the point, steadfast Adamant," ir'Zathyran says with a sad smile. "But I respect that." He nods at Kal's request and moves to find a seat, pausing for a moment to see which are available. With Belarin over by the edge, he moves behind Adamant and Condign, earning a distrusting eyeing from Tangat, and makes his way to the chair at the other end.

Unless Belarin wishes to deny him this chair...?

"What would you like me to describe? The spiders or the minor golem? Or perhaps Belarin's masterful dispelling of the scrying sensor?" He says this as casually as if commenting on the weather.

If Matheu is, in fact, still present, he does not answer Streko.

[Darren]

Kal smiles, but it is clearly false. "Whether you were the man behind the sensor or not isn't really that important right now. You clearly know about what happened and you seem to know a lot about us. I'd like to know how you know so much."

[Ken]

Belarin pleasantly waves ir'Zathyran toward the chair in which he had recently sat.

@Jeff said:

"Or perhaps Belarin's masterful dispelling of the scrying sensor?"

"That was a highlight, wasn't it?" he says cheerily. "Right next to my being oh-so-close to frying that necromancer ally of yours."

Jan 18, 2011 0:37:18 GMT -4 darren" said:

"I'd like to know how you know so much."

"And after that, I'd like to know where you buy your clothes. Exceptional taste, sir." Belarin looks the man up and down as if appraising his fashion.

_____________________
...but of course Belarin is doing another Arcana check to detect magic on the man and then on his "bodyguard." The idea is to compare it to the previous reading so that Belarin has a better idea of which auras are part of the area and which belong to their host.

[Dave W.]

"I am satisfied, thank you Professor. You understand I am a simple creature; I wished to make sure that we were all proper parties to the events we shall discuss."

Adamant will wait for the Professor, Streko, and Kal to be seated before he sits.

[Brian]

Condign stands so that the professor can move behind him. He listens to the others throw questions at the man. He has his own--something the professor said, something that bears furthers inquiry--but for now, he will wait until a better time.

When everyone sits, Condign will take his seat.

[Mike]

Kalarian leans back further, almost lounging. "As for this," he says, spreading his arms to the side to indicate his surroundings as he then folds his hands behind his head, "why shouldn't I be treated in the manner I deserve?"

Syrdan looks like he's about to reply to Kalarian, but pauses, and instead remains silent.

As ir'Zathyran and his companion enter, Syrdan gives them a nod, acknowledging their prescence, but otherwise saying nothing to them. He listens to the banter between his host and his companions, but chooses to turn and look out towards the park.

This city's not for me, the elf thinks. It may be time to move on, once my business here is complete.

[Jeff]

Belarin:

"And after that, I'd like to know where you buy your clothes. Exceptional taste, sir."

Belarin begins to concentrate, looking to ir'Zathyran and his companion, seeming to appraise their clothing. The professor meets his eye for a moment with a half-smile. "Tsk, tsk. A gentleman of taste must never reveal his...tailor."

Kal:

"Whether you were the man behind the sensor or not isn't really that important right now. You clearly know about what happened and you seem to know a lot about us. I'd like to know how you know so much.

Ir'Zathyran smiles back at Kal across the table. "In truth, I knew nothing...at first. The City of the Dead was, as I suggested, merely a test. A net, you might say, to catch some 'heroes.' Simply posting up signs and offers of gold doesn't net the sort I require. And once I believed I had found the men and women I needed"—he pauses and looks around the table, slight disappointment on his face—"I looked into you."

He makes a light gesture toward the other diners at the restaurant. "It wasn't very difficult to learn more about you. You're already famous, after a fashion, aren't you? Of course, separating the truth from the exaggerations is part of this meeting."

He turns to Syrdan. "Although there is virtually nothing to be learned about you, Syrdan. I do not even know your family name—nor must I. It is not my business to pry further."

He turns his head to regard the warforged. "And you, Adamant; there is only what the people of High Walls say about you...but that was quite enough to know that you're just the sort of man I need." He smiles, seeming quite conscious of his use of "man."

He looks to Streko. "Your sister did not wish to come, Lord Streko?" he asks without judgement in his voice. "I do not blame her, though the loss is great. Still, I do not wish to complicate her loyalties."

Looking to the silk-cloaked man, he says, "Rolten, you needn't stay. Perhaps you would enjoy a walk in the park, until I am ready to go?" He gestures to the cloud-wisped lawns beyond the balcony. Rolten stares back without a word, inclines his head, and turns to go.

[Darren]

Kal grins, and it almost has the look of Tangat bearing his fangs. "I think our reputation is well deserved." On the table, sparks jump unconsciously between Kal's fingertips. "But again, you already knew that. You went to a lot of trouble to find us. Enough trouble to try to kill us." Kal leans forward further. "I don't take that kind of thing, lightly, Z. So, to the point....why?"

[Joe]

He looks to Streko. "Your sister did not wish to come, Lord Streko?" he asks without judgement in his voice. "I do not blame her, though the loss is great. Still, I do not wish to complicate her loyalties."

Streko smiles. "You assume she isn't here. Just because my sister isn't at this table doesn't mean she isn't watching. She certainly isn't the trusting sort, nor do I blame her for that either. If I may, Professor. A brief word of advice? Assume nothing from my sister or from my friends. Varna is her own person, as infuriating as that may be to some and my friends are even moreso.

"As to our fame, as you so eloquently put it? That came long before we arrived in Sharn and was paid for in the blood of our friends as well as that of our enemies. Gnomes write pretty much exactly as they live the rest of their lives...in a fantasy world of wish fulfillment and a desire above their lot. Frankly, I have not met one I haven't wanted to throttle fairly quickly.

"In any event, you have been kind enough to invite us to this place for a reason. Let us eat and discuss that reason. Judgement shall wait until the information you wish to provide is laid before us."

With that, Streko sits at the table. He glances at Kal and allows a slight grin to etch upward, albeit briefly.

[Ken]

Belarin smiles and says nothing, preferring to maintain his arcane concentration. So he knows what I'm doing. Well, he should if he's such a mastermind! He may be the most arrogant man I've ever met. Hmmm. Second-most arrogant. Wait... Rolten is leaving? Don't like that.

"Just curious," he suddenly blurts out, not wanting to lose his focus. "Is Rolten there a changeling?" He's not expecting an honest answer, just a reaction.

[Brian]

Belarin:

"Just curious," he suddenly blurts out. "Is Rolten there a changeling?"

Condign looks briefly at Belarin, puzzled at his comment. Then his gaze snaps to Rolten. The man looks sure of himself, confident, maybe even dangerous. But a changeling?

Condign waits for a reaction.

[Jeff]

"Before we begin it would good to know we all who we are."

"I have introduced myself," the professor says with a smile. "And I know each of you by name, though it gets a bit dodgy from there."

Belarin:

"Is Rolten there a changeling?"

Rolten stiffens and glowers at Belarin, then looks to the professor. Professor ir'Zathyran laughs. "Alas, no. I think I'm quite finished with changelings."

Rolten turns and walks away, moving out of Belarin's sight and beyond the range of his magic detection.

Kal:

Enough trouble to try to kill us...I don't take that kind of thing, lightly, Z. So, to the point....why?"

"Please, call me Larest. Z was merely to remain anonymous in the event that you wished to treat with me no further. But you have, Lord Kalarian. And I am pleased."

He lowers his voice a touch, despite the fact that the birdsong and chatter of other restaurant patrons nearby prevent words from carrying too far. "My goal was not to kill you, my lord, as I'd have hoped you'd understand by now. My goal was to test the mettle of the few who would place themselves in harm's way to help another. I would never have sent any of my hirelings out into the populace with such danger. That is why I set up in the City of the Dead, to a place one must choose to go. That is...important."

Streko:

"Gnomes write pretty much exactly as they live the rest of their lives...in a fantasy world of wish fulfillment and a desire above their lot. Frankly, I have not met one I haven't wanted to throttle fairly quickly.

"In any event, you have been kind enough to invite us to this place for a reason. Let us eat and discuss that reason. Judgement shall wait until the information you wish to provide is laid before us."

"I appreciate your thoughts concerning your sister, Lord Streko. And as for gnomes...I try not to generalize in that way. They aren't all the same, either in their motives or their methods. Maybe you'd be surprised. You should visit Zilargo someday. It's an amazing place, with a great deal of knowledge to offer, but yes, you must keep your wits about you. And yes, let's not wait any longer. We're here for breakfast, after all."

As if on cue, several servers enter the patio and fill the buffet table with steaming trays. There is an astounding assortment of breakfast options: Karrnathi sausages, Aundairian pastries, Thrane bread, and plenty of fruit. The professor waits quietly and politely as the servers do their work.

Then another steps in and places something directly onto the table: it looks like some sort of cooked game hen, but with unusual proportions and rather muscular legs. The professor raises an eyebrow at this. "As request, my lord," a waitress says to Kal, with an embarrassed smile. "You asked for 'a plate of whatever the most expensive, best tasting thing' that we offer here at the Gateway." She curtsies, then departs. All the servers head out.

A half-smile lingers on the professor's face, and he inclines his head at Kal. "Had I known you were partial to young cockatrice—a bold choice, Lord d'Deneith—I'd have requested this in advance."

By this time, Belarin has a better sense of the magical auras present, though it's still an insurmountable task separating all of them in this place. The professor's clothing, jeweled dagger, rings, and circlet all have auras of their own of varying degrees. There's nothing substantial he can learn about any of them, however.

Professor Larest gets up and walks over to the buffet table, selecting only a few choice piece of fruit for his plate. "Please, enjoy." Tangat looks up at him as he does, but doesn't give the man his pitiful begging doggy act. Just watches him.

Sitting back down, the professor looks across the table to Kal again. "I'm not dodging your question, my lord. You want to know why all this..." With a piece of pineapple in his hand, he gestures to indicate the table, the food, the whole restaurant. "I wish to employ you. To retrieve something...very important. Quite possibly, for all of Khorvaire and beyond."

As if the thought is too weighty, he sets down his plate and reaches for his glass. "No wine?" He frowns, then holds up his hand to catch the notice of a waitress lingering just beyond the archway. "Please, some morning wine. Red and white." She hurries off.

[Ken]

Jan 19, 2011 9:27:00 GMT -4 Jeff said:

"Please, some morning wine. Red and white."

"Thank you... Larest," says Belarin, taking the seat to Ir'Zathyran's left. His own plate is full of strawberries, oranges, and pastries. "And thank you, Kal," he continues, carving a slice of cockatrice. "This should be interesting. As long as they don't serve Khyber Cube gelatin for dessert, my stomach should be happy.

"So, Larest," he says after a few seconds of chewing, "what is -- oh, this is excellent, it's trying to paralyze my taste buds -- what is YOUR background? Obviously, we're curious to hear about this presumably non-altruistic retrieval mission you have in mind, but at this point, we know next to nothing about the person offering it, aside from your name, which could be false, and the fact that you and your minions have caused us considerable pain. Yes, yes, 'you weren't trying to kill us,' 'it was a test,' yes, yes..."

And then he stares at Ir'Zathyran with considerable malice, all the playfulness and banter suddenly gone.

"Have you ever felt a ghoul's teeth sink into your flesh? Has an undead spirit ever wrapped icy fingers around your heart? I want to know more about the man who would command those actions before I hear his offer."

[Dave W.]

"Thank you for indulging us this way." Adamant makes no notice of the empty plate before him.

Adamant adds to Belarin's question. "Setting aside for the moment, our personal injury claim, I would like to understand your desire to hire people of good character... willing to impose their forms between danger and innocents. But using a morally questionable method of attracting them ... by intentionally creating the danger to stand against."

"I understand the... shall we call them applicants?... had the freedom of choice, but the innocents did not."

"I do not intend to insult, but I am a simple creature. And there is reason to be suspicious; a dubious 'net' was cast to catch altruistic people."

Jan 19, 2011 9:27:00 GMT -4 Jeff said:

"I wish to employ you. To retrieve something...very important. Quite possibly, for all of Khorvaire and beyond."

"All of Khorvaire?" Adamant casually, almost absently, touches the sigil of Cyre etched into his chestplate.

--------
I've simul-posted again... this time with Ken.... Let's see if I can patch it a bit...

[Jeff]

Belarin:

"Have you ever felt a ghoul's teeth sink into your flesh? Has an undead spirit ever wrapped icy fingers around your heart? I want to know more about the man who would command those actions before I hear his offer."

Professor Larest ir'Zathyran winces slightly at this.

"I expected nothing less," Larest says, nodding once at Belarin, "than the need to relay more information about myself."

"Very well. About me: I am a professor of anthropology and history at Morgrave, though my current pursuits I'll admit aren't entirely academic in nature. In fact, I haven't been on staff in over a year. It was while teaching a course on ancient Dhakaani* cultures that I came across something that...distracted me from my work. It's led me on one very long, tortuous research effort that has, in turn, brought me here today.

"I am Brelish by birth but my family has traveled extensively"—hearing this, you do notice a distinct lack of any obvious accent in his speech—"owing to my family's diplomatic relations. During the Last War, some years ago, I briefly enlisted and served in infantry wands*, particularly those tat worked with the Zilargo alliance." He looks briefly at Streko. "Hence my familiarity with gnomes. But yes, I have some skill with the arcane arts, but my pursuits of scholarship and history have always been more important to me."

He looks across at all of you. "I'm not going to be coy about this. I am realist, at the core. The task I am setting upon has may serve interests of many, but there is also a great deal of gold to be earned in the effort. And a legacy like no other. All three of these things appeal to me. I'm hoping some of it will appeal to you, as well."

Adamant:

. But using a morally questionable method of attracting them ... by intentionally creating the danger to stand against."

"I understand the... shall we call them applicants?... had the freedom of choice, but the innocents did not."

Larest nods. "It was dubious, to be sure. But much more controlled than you may have believed. There were no innocents harmed...except yourselves, perhaps."

He pauses. "No, that isn't right. There was that boy, the one the reaver tried to abduct. That, I admit, might have been a casualty, and I am glad for your part in averting it. The disappearances that drew you to investigate the City of the Dead...all of them were fabricated. The rumors themselves I had circulated. I payed the Watch to avoid investigation. Yes, you can do that."

"As for what lay within the tomb that the reaver lured you into...yes, those were dangerous creatures, and the first applicants to enter did not fare well against them. The truth is, my test was successful on several counts, including ridding this city of some unwelcome criminals and cutthroat mercenaries—yes, you would have agreed with me, had you met them—but also in finding you.

"I realize there was risk. I have done you undeserved harm. I am hoping to make amends with the opportunity I am laying before you this morning, and opportunity I assure you no one else will make. But the truth is, those challenges—the spiders, the golems, the ghouls—all pale in comparison to the obstacles that we would yet face. It does me no good to find courageous, moral champions if they cannot survive even smaller challenges.

"Does this make sense to you? If I am not convincing you, please be honest with me. I do not wish to waste your time, or mine, and I cannot risk telling you too much if this isn't sounding like the sort of work you're interested in."


_________________________

*The Dhakaani Empire was the massive civilization of goblinkind that existed across Khorvaire long before humans came over from the continent of Sarlona. Allegedly shattered by war with incursions from Xoriat, the plane of madness, it was further dissolved by humanity.

**Wands is also a term for a unit of spellcasters in any nation's military.

[Brian]

Condign moves to the buffet table, marveling at the wide assortments of foods on display. He places several small samples on a plate. He's seen his friends take food without a problem, but he still looks anxiously about for someone to run up and demand payment. When he makes it safely back to his seat, also tries a sample of the roasted fowl.

In between mouthfuls, he turns to their host. "Let me see if I have this straight, my lord. You risked the lives our ourselves and a small boy as a test, a test others have failed and, of course, died for their failure. We faced dangers that "pale in comparison" to the dangers you hint at, yet several of us almost died." He pauses to try the cockatrice. "Had we died, you would have proceeded with the next set of prospective heroes, all without losing sleep. And all for the good of Khorvaire! How wonderful . . . and convenient."

Condign stops eating. He looks hard at Larest. "Do you know what I see, my lord? I see a failed professor with no academic standing, an spoiled scion of wealth and privilege, who is so blinded by an obsession that he is willing to kill others to achieve it. You may think dressing up your behavior in the elegance of this fine setting will remove the stench of your manipulations, but it does not." He pauses for a moment, then adds: "Tell me, did you enjoy pulling wings off flies when you were a child?"

[Mike]

Syrdan nods at Adamant's and Belarin's words ... they speak what he thinks, and far better than he ever could say, in his opinion.

He listens carefully to ir'Zathyran's reply. Something about this doesn't seem right, the elf thinks dubiously. Then again, I've come to see shadows where there aren't any ...
_____________________

Jeff, would an Insight check allow Syrdan to get a sense of how truthful ir'Zathyran's being with the group?

[Jeff]

Mike: Totally. Passive Insight is always in effect, but since you've requested it, I've just made some active rolls for everyone. We're far enough into the conversation now. And the result is...

______________________________

The cockatrice is surprisingly tender. It doesn't really taste like chicken, but the texture is similar. And it has an inherent spice that numbs the tongue for a few seconds, almost paralyzing it and requiring thoroughly chewing to get rid of.

The professor listens intently to Condign. When the tiefling finishes, he says, "I suppose it is only appropriate that you are cynical, Condign. With so much distrust surrounding the people of Fah'lrrg, it is little wonder that you trust no one else. If you doubt my intentions, why do you not doubt I am even a professor? Perhaps you would like to ask around the university and find out if I am who I say I am."

He glances at his still-empty wine glass and at the waiters with annoyance, then resorts to a cup of juice to wash down several bites of fruit. "Yes, it is convenient that I'm trying to help stabilize the peace of Khorvaire. Every day we're one errant spell close to war again. Such a claim on my part—that I could actually impact the state of Khorvaire—no doubt makes what I am saying implausible." Something smolders in his eyes as his conviction seems grows. A cynical tone creeps in. "Maybe I should have concocted a tale about a kidnapped girl, or of personal vengeance? Would you have believed that? Maybe. But would you have helped me? No."

Belarin, Condign and Syrdan sense no overt lies in anything the professor is saying. They do suspect he's not exactly laying everything out plainly, and maybe half-truths are compelling, but he seems to believe what he's saying.

Adamant and Kal agree, but they definitely feel there's a great deal more to the story. At least half of what the professor is saying feels genuine, the rest...maybe exaggerated, but not false.

To Streko, Professor ir'Zathyran's motives seem like 50% business, 50% personal. Whatever he's saying or not saying, Streko thinks he really does want cooperation.

Ir'Zathyran meets Condign's golden eyes. "Yes, greater dangers await. But you would not go it alone. The expedition I am forming includes myself, a few more worthy adventurers, and an associate of mine. Together we would be a force to be reckoned with."

[Darren]

Kalarian casually rips a leg off the cockatrice and bites into it before he begins using it to emphasize his gestures. "Z, I'm not sure I like you, and you've given us very little reason to trust you. Now you say that you want us to travel and fight with you, and some others that we've never met? Well, Z, we generally prefer to work alone." A small amount of juice drips from the roasted beast as Kal swipes it across the table. "So what are you offering? Information? Money? Both? People of our stature, with our skills and connections, don't come cheap. And it takes more than a few gold coins to get our attention. We're not mercenaries," Kal says, glancing down at his arm, "and we're not just heroes for hire." Kalarian leans back in his chair and takes another bite of the cockatrice. "So what's your proposal?" he asks around a mouthful of food.

[Jeff]

"A strange thing to hear from someone hailing from the world's most famous house of mercenaries. But whether you like me or not, Lord Kalarian, is immaterial. Whether you wish to make a difference, and be paid well for it, is what matters."

A smile creases his lips. "As it stands, you're not making much of a difference right now, and your standing in House Deneith is not quite what you'd like it to be, is it? Right now you're the stuff of sensationalist journalism, and little else...but you could be so much more. I have the resources to make things happen."

Two waiters enter carrying three bottles of wine. One is red, one is white, and the third is a pale yellow in color. All three are opened. Professor ir'Zathyran leans in, inspecting their labels, trying to decide.

[Darren]

Kal tosses the half-finished cockatrice leg onto his plate. "Just because you have a lot of money, that doesn't make your resources extraordinary. Do you have the ear of the prince of Aundair?" Kal grins and gauges the man's reaction.

"Z, you talk a lot, but I still haven't heard your proposal. You think you can, what? Increase my standing in House Deneith?" Kal chuckles at the thought, and only Tangat can tell that is forced. "Really, now. Enough dancing."

[Joe]

Streko goes over to the table and piles his plate full of food, the sausages are extremely mouth-watering morsels waiting to enter his gullet. A few pieces of fruit, several of the sausages and a single pastry wobble for purchase, along with two large slices of bread. He returns and sits down, feeling the anger radiate from his friends.

Streko places a hand on Kal's arm. "Kalarian, if I may?"

He stands back up, the better to see all his friends (and any others about).

"Larest, it seems all we have been doing is fighting for the past year. That fighting seems to continue to this very moment. We have, indeed, faced our fair share of evil. We have fought alongside many different races and fought against many adversaries. Our exploits are hardly sensational, unless you believe the nonsense of the gnome journalists who have attempted to tell their fictional accounts of our endeavors. We have fought, bled and worse for causes that, to us, are very much as important as yours is to you.

"I would ask all of us, not just you, Larest, to put aside our differences, our anger, our hopes and, yes, even our fears, and give each other the respect due to any potential business partners. Kalrian, Belarin, Condign, we wouldn't be here if we weren't interested in learning more of his proposal. To insult him and enflame our passions works against us, more than for us. It galvanizes his thoughts and needs while it lessens ours in his eyes.

"Larest, my friends are noble. They are brave. They are willing to risk their lives for a greater cause. Do not belittle our pain and our actions by placing them into the realm of sensationalism. That is an insult, and does an injustice to your passions and goals, even as it hinders us from wishing to see your involvment in your application process as anything other than malevolant.

"This is, obviously, a business arrangement of some sort you wish to discuss. It is also one you, equally as obvious, care deeply about. Honestly, both of these matters intrigue me.

"I ask that you present your propsoal while we eat this delicious bounty you have provided and for which we are all grateful. We shall listen and discuss our thoughts afterward."

He turns and looks at each of his friends in turn. "Are we agreed?"

Should agreement be had, Streko immedaitely sits and begins to eat, "accidentally" dropping a sausage onto the floor in front of Tangat as he reaches for a tender piece of cockatrice with both knife and fork at the ready.

[Dave W.]

"Yes Streko, I am with you. Let us hear the full proposal."

"For my part, i would like to hear about an artifact that would strengthen the fragile peace."

[Ken]

Jan 19, 2011 19:29:05 GMT -4 Jeff said:

"A strange thing to hear from someone hailing from the world's most famous house of mercenaries."

Belarin chokes on a piece of fruit. "Oh, well played," he mutters.

Jan 19, 2011 22:01:38 GMT -4 Joe said:

"To insult him and enflame our passions works against us, more than for us. It galvanizes his thoughts and needs while it lessens ours in his eyes."

Belarin nods sagely at this.

"I ask that you present your propsoal while we eat this delicious bounty you have provided and for which we are all grateful. We shall listen and discuss our thoughts afterward."

He turns and looks at each of his friends in turn. "Are we agreed?"

"Agreed," he says. "Well said, although I will contend with you, Good Streko, on the value of the word 'sensational' at another time." He smiles, then he turns back to ir'Zathyran, the smile once again gone.

[Brian]

Condign gives a respectful nod to Streko. "Very well, I am willing to hear--and possibly even accept--your proposal, should we all agree to pursue it."

[Jeff]

As Streko speaks, the professor selects the pale yellow wine and pours himself a glass. He swirls it around, then nods slowly, gratefully, while the halfling finishes. When Adamant speaks, he nods again, then sips his wine. When he swallows, he frowns at the taste. "Oh well," he says quietly.

Glancing only briefly at Kal, he says to the rest of you, "I am, in fact, looking precisely for 'heroes for hire.' People worthy of the name, or will be. And what I am stalling to explain...is just the sort of thing I can't have you talking about if you choose to decline my offer. It's much too important, and dangerous, if word gets out.

"The expedition I am gathering, that I wish you to join me on, will journey far to locate an object of antiquity. But this is no mere treasure hunt. The artifact I am seeking only a limited number of people know about right now, or have ever even heard of. But in six month's time, the world will know of it. But in whose possession will it be by then? The Emerald Claw, who will seek it as well? Or perhaps the Aurum? One of the courts of the Five Nations? The Twelve? If we find it first, then we can decide who should have it."

"This is still vague, I know. What are your thoughts so far? Would you be willing to journey for many days to a place far from the Five Nations, if success meant not only monetary gain but also change for the better?"

He looks at Adamant. "What if success meant finding a new, and better place, for the people of High Walls? If it meant making sure the Mourning never happened again?"

He looks away from Adamant and gestures to the wine. "And please...since it's already paid for." He smiles sheepishly.

[Brian]

Jeff wrote:

"If we find it first, then we can decide who should have it."

"Truly, my lord?" says Condign. "We? But we are simply "hired heroes." I believe you mean you will decide who gets this precious artifact."

[Darren]

"And who says you should have the right to choose who has this artifact, Z? And who would YOU give it to? Would you keep it for yourself? Perhaps set yourself up as the new king of the Five Nations?"

As Kal finishes speaking, he realizes that Condign has been speaking at the same time and knows, instinctively, that the tiefling's thoughts echo his own.
______________
Simul-posted with Brian. Going to fix it a bit.

[Dave W.]

Adamant answers the Professor, quietly but firmly, "if I could guarantee that no other country would suffer our fate? That no soldier would ever again stand at the border of the country he's sworn to defend and watch a poisonous fog mark his failure?"

"Yes, I would gratefully expend my existence in exchange. Who could choose otherwise?" 

"I will hear more, and you have my word not to discuss what you say here this morning even if we do not join this expedition."

[Mike]

Jan 20, 2011 7:58:51 GMT -4 Jeff said:

Professor Larest ir'Zathyran:"What if success meant finding a new, and better place, for the people of High Walls? If it meant making sure the Mourning never happened again?"

Syrdan looks critically at ir'Zathyran. "I don't know if I admire or fear your sense of optimism," the elf says. "Never is a promise rarely kept. Something like the Mourning will certain happen again, perhaps something worse."

"At best, we try to forestall the inevitable, as long as we can."

The elf looks down at his food, scarcely touched.

"I also can't say I'm in love with the notion of fetching something so powerful for you without knowing much more about it. Or you, for that matter. As was discussed in an unrelated conversation on the way here, it's a matter of trust."

The elf leans forward in his chair, watching ir'Zathyran intently. "I understand your unwillingness to tell us more about this mission, this journey. Please know that despite my doubts, I'm nevertheless interested in it."

"But you'll have to show more trust in me - in us - before I agree to head off somewhere far away and very dangerous, for a man I barely know." He taps the coinpurse hanging from his belt. "I don't fight for coin, or glory. You can't buy me."