Chapter 1: A Peaceable Kingdom

[Jeff]

Kal tries to coax the man to talk and seems to be doing a good job of it, but the Aundairian continues to glance back nervously toward Fairhaven. It seems as though a greater fear outweighs Kal's words of assurance.

But then: "There is....a divination field....they can hear me, if I speak. Must...get away from the city first."

At least he seems to be getting more coherent.

The wolfdog wanders away from the group, sniffing along the ground, making his way over the massive canvas-wrapped lump. The Deneith guards watch him and mutter. Grafth can't tell any more about the soil, save that it was probably dug up and crated less than three days ago. Nothing about it smells unnatural, though.

One of the Deneith guards approaches at last, eyeing the wounded man. "What happened here?" he demands, glancing only briefly at Kal's dragonmark.

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Kal gets a Diplomacy check of 21, but it isn't enough to make the Aundairian shake his fear. He also makes an Appraise check (those numbers are hidden so you don't know how good the result really is) on the Aundairian's ring. He thinks it might just be a simple band of metal with a silvery coating. It's hard to be sure.

[Paul]

Cutter straightens from where he was leaning against the lightning rail wall staring thoughtfully out the window.

"What happened here is that other people were doing your job for you. Aren't you supposed to be guarding the rail and its passengers? Or does that only apply when your boss if watching?"

[Lara]

Pellorien acknowledges the shifter's thanks with a nod as she shrugs out of her blue cloak and settles into a spot next to her new-found "uncle" on the bench where the small group of late boarders has ended up.

She leans into the Aundarian, inspecting the hole in his clothing and readjusting things to hide as much of the blood and damage as possible. She says to the man, "Well, I've done what I can to help you get on board, and it looks like the others have put you on the mend. It's hard to say for sure, but your shirt may be salvageable. Someone good with a needle and thread should be able to repair the hole. But the blood... well, that sort of thing usually leaves a stain unless you soak it immediately. That might be hard to do on a train, though."

As she speaks, she turns her attention from the Aundarian to her own cloak and tunic, searching for any stains she might have picked up from the man.

"I'll play at being niece a bit longer, but that's a fiction that probably has outlived its usefulness now that we're out of the station," she says to the Aundarian and those around him who seem to be paying any attention. "It's going to be a long trip."

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Pellorien uses the chatter and fiddling with items of clothing to try to do a couple different things (whatever you deem allowable by time, Jeff), in order of importance/preference:

• Search check on the Aundarian's body/torso for anything of interest followed by Sleight of Hand check to pick up said item(s)
  
• Spot check to check out the passengers (including fellow late-boarders) and guards
  
• Listen check to check out the passengers (including fellow late-boarders) and guards
  

Oh, and it really is important to her to discover whether her cloak and other clothing have taken any stain or grime from the Aundarian.

[Ed]

Oss grins at the tattooed man's response to the guards but says nothing. He looks out the window attempting to casually distance himself from the attention of the guards.

[Darren]

paulcrilley said:

"What happened here is that other people were doing your job for you. Aren't you supposed to be guarding the rail and its passengers? Or does that only apply when your boss if watching?"

Kalarian turns slowly to face the Deneith guards. It's hard to tell if his smile is friendly or smug. He folds his arms, the scythe resting in the crook of his left arm, his right forearm prominently displaying the dragonmark against his chest. He is clearly unphased by these men and knows that he is in control of the situation. He places himself between the Aundarian man with the blonde woman and the guards, blocking the former from the latter's sight.

"What the large man says is true, though I might have used a more delicate turn of phrase." Kalarian spares a quick glance towards the burly man. He shifts his attention back to the guards. "As you can see, I have things well in hand here. You gentlemen should perhaps have been a bit more mindful. No, you definitely should have. But now you can go back to watching the rest of the train, and leave this to me. I'm sure the Sentinels would prefer that I take care of this. Return to your posts. Keep the rest of these passengers safe." Kalarian's tone makes it clear that this is not a suggestion, it is an order.

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Bluff? Intimidate? Diplomacy? Help me out here...

[Jeff]

The Deneith guard doesn't hear any of the blonde woman's quiet talk with the Aundairian, but he immediately turns his attention to Cutter.

"What did you say, baldy?" he says with a scowl, hand dropping to the hilt of his sword.

The other guard (also coming from the rear side of the cart) runs up and puts his hand on the speaker's should. "Easy, Res." The guard looks to Kal. "Lord d'Deneith," he says with a nod of respect. "Can you please tell me what exactly happened here? The security of this cart is our business, not what transpired before. But we need to know the facts. This man is...hurt?" The man's tone suggests an order, though he is careful to phrase it nicely, even to Kal. Kal knows that since he, Kal, is not an active member of the guild, the guards don't truly answer to him. But it is clear he's a member of the House and worthy of respect and probably a good deal of slack.

But now you can go back to watching the rest of the train, and leave this to me. I'm sure the Sentinels would prefer that I take care of this. Return to your posts. Keep the rest of these passengers safe."

"Be that as it may, we must take charge of the security of this cart. Unless you can explain why this is a matter for the Sentinel Marshal's? Are you one of them?" He doesn't seem to like Kal's tone.

Pellorien examines the Aundairian's inventory as discretely as possible. Aside from the ring on his finger, a sheathed dagger attached to the back of his belt beneath his shirt, his rail ticket, and a metal-bound book, he has nothing else. Not even gold, unless it's tucked in a boot. The book is a bit too large to take at the moment without notice, and the Aundairian shifts in his seat when she reaches for the dagger. She is forced to abort her attempt, although she doesn't think he was aware of it. Then she assesses her own clothing. She's clean.

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Pellorien gets a 13 on her Sleight of Hand check.

Spot and Listen are mostly passive skills. Results of that to come...

Note to Darren: Keep talking. A Diplomacy check will come into play only once a good bit of dialogue is exchanged. Also, this is definitely Diplomacy, not Intimidate. Intimidate would be if you're making threats or clearly suggesting you'll do something bad if they don't comply. If he said he'd report them to their superiors, that might serve as Intimidate.

[Jeff]

The guard named/nicknamed Res points again at Cutter. "You. Let's see your identification papers. Now."

Kal knows the circumstances haven't really called for this yet, although as a rail guard it is his right to ask for identification papers. But this is just one guard's territorialism at work, feeling as though his limited authority is being challenged. Kal's seen it before many times.

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Kal makes a Sense Motive check of 22.

[Paul]

Cutter grins and stares hard at the guard who spoke to him. Although the human with the dragonmark is trying to be diplomatic, Cutter wouldn't mind a spot of action. Anything to get his mind off the past few days.

He carries on staring at the guard.

[Jeff]

Pellorien trains her senses on the rest of the steerage cart, but she doesn't see or hear anything that the rest don't observe.

Most of the crowd is minding their own business, talking or laughing in their own company. Very few are looking toward your group. One adolescent boy nearby pokes the older man next to him and points to the canvas-wrapped cargo that the wolfdog is sniffing around. "What do you think, Father? Karrnathi vampires in there?" he says with feigned suspicion and a Brelish accent. His father laughs.

The gnome who boarded with you hops up and makes his way across to the other end of the cart. His tools jingle as he walks; he certainly looks like an artificer. From your end it looks as though he's talking to the warforged in the corner, who seems quite unresponsive. The gnome prods the warforged on the arm, looking irritated at being ignored. Then the gnome turns around and starts to chat with one of the Deneith guards at that end.

The dark-furred shifter meets Pellorien's eye for a moment, then looks quickly away. He gets up, walks over to the window, and stares out.

The armored Thrane man has ceased looking upon the group suspiciously once the guards have showed up. He pulls out a small book of what you assume is Flame scripture and reads quietly to himself.

One of the doors at the front of the cart opens and the Orien worker you dealt with earlier enters. "Tickets, everyone," he announces, then begins to make his rounds among the benches. He looks furtively up at the blonde woman now and again, but he's no good at hiding it.

"Well played, young miss," the Aundairian whispers through his teeth to Pellorien.

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Paul, if Cutter is actively wishing to intimidate the man, just say so. It can turn into a check. If he's just trying to piss him off, well then, carry on.

Kal makes a Spot check to observe Pellorien's Sleight of Hand, gaining a +2 circumstance bonus because he's actively watching. But he gets a 12, and remains unaware.

Again, everyone: all rolls whose numbers you get to see are added to your character's databases, if you ever want to see them.

[Josh]

Grafth looks perturbed at the current situation, as if he is beginning to regret his earlier involvement in this endavor. He offers his ticket to the Orien conductor, then turns his attention to his pack, drawing out a leatherbound journal. He busies himself within the pages, acting aloof to the potential situation that is breweing around him.

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While Grafth is appearing otherwise occupied, he is keeping is senses alert to the situation around him, making sure to listen to what transpires.

[Paul]

Not trying to intimidate. Just staring him out to see what he does.

[Darren]

Kalarian gives Res a withering glance. "I think you know that's not necessary. Let's all calm down here. You, too," he scowls at Cutter. Leaning closer to Res, Kalarian speaks in a low voice, but definitely pitched so that Cutter can hear him, "Besides, I don't think you want a fight with this one."

Kalarian returns his attention to the first guard. "The man is fine. None of us have done any wrong aboard your train. I'll take care of anything that has happened earlier. We do not wish to interfere in your business." Kal gestures towards where the guards were posted earlier, as though there is nothing more to say. He smiles at them, a gesture of friendship.

[Lara]

"How sweet," Pellorien says to the Aundarian. "Was that your way of saying thanks? You'll have to give a little bit more. The conductor is coming our way."

Pellorien reaches a slim-fingered hand into the soft leather pouch slung across her shoulder and retrieves a ticket to offer the Orien worker.

"You do still have your ticket, don't you, Uncle....?" she questions the injured man.

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No special actions at this time.

Pellorien's voice has a questioning tone to it, and the pause at the end of her last question in combination with that tone suggests that the injured Aundarian might bother to supply a name.

[Ed]

Oss hands his ticket to the worker without looking at the man. The half-elf seems intent on something outside the window.

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Oss is trying to keep his face hidden without being conspicuous about it. Oss is also listening intently to the goings-on of the bald, tattooed man as well as the shifter. Should the conflict with the bald man come to blows, Oss will have a readied action to assist the man.

[Jeff]

The dog who came aboard with Kal has taken to visiting various passengers. A few shrink away from him—afraid of animals—but he seems sensitive to that, so he moves away. Most pat him on the head, and the boy sitting nearby talking to his father scratches him behind the ears. So the dog sits next to him, thumping his tail against the hardwood floor.

At the other end of the cart, the gnome seems to be getting into a heated discussion with the guard.

On your end:

The guard addressing Kal shakes his head. "You're not answering my questions, my lord. It is our duty to ask them. You are a passenger and evidently do not know this man yourself."

The other, Res, grits his teeth and tightens the grip on his sword. "You stay out of this," he says to Kal.

"Good sirs," the Aundairian says to the guards, holding up a hand. "All is well. It is true that I don't know these men, but they did help me. My niece and I—" He takes the blonde's hand. "—were set upon by an unscrupulous cutpurse on the station platform. I caught the man...and paid for it with this." He holds up his fingers, where the blood has dried. "But I will live. I've got a cousin who works for House Jorasco in Passage. But please, do not trouble these good folks on my account. I certainly don't want it to show on any record that there was any trouble on the cart for which you two fine men are responsible. I thank you for your concern."

Just then the Orien worker comes by, and everyone gives up their ticket. The tickets are clipped and returned. The worker smiles at the blonde. "Are you well, miss?" he asks her.

The Aundairian nods and answers for her with a bit of attitude. "She is, and I am too. Please, give us some privacy." The man moves away, scolded.

The Deneith guards stare at everyone for a long moment. Res glares at the bald man with a warning in his eyes. "Say anything like that again, passenger, and you'll be getting off at the next station—before Passage—if not sooner." Both guards walk back to their posts, an apologetic look on the face of the less aggressive guard.

Pellorien and Kal have both spent some time assessing the Aundairian. They decide that despite his injury and pain, he is carrying himself like a man with more wealth than his middle-class clothing suggest. There is nobility to his manner, perhaps a thinly veiled arrogance. He looks like he's trying to blend in with the crowd, probably even chose the steerage cart, rather than the standard passenger cart, for just this purpose.

Once the guards move back to their posts, keeping their eyes fixed upon your party, the Aundairian stands slightly and peers out the window. Fairhaven is on the horizon now. The Aundairian countryside rolls by, the endless fields encompassing all the colors of the coming autumn. The greens of summer and gradually becoming the red and gold of the fall. Farmers and laborers work the land, and occasional hamlets and farms can be seen the further out you go.

"Thank you," the Aundairian says with a stronger voice, seeming to address all of you. "It is....imperative that I get away. They can't...find me. But since you have helped me, they surely know that I am not dead. I fear...this means they're probably going to keep an eye on us both." He scans the other passengers. "Someone here is probably with them, watching."

"Who are you?" he asks you all, excluding none; he has marked each and every one of you who participated in his assistance. "For saving my life, I owe you at least my name—perhaps a great deal more. I am Gurend." He tilts his head and looks at the whole group with an appraising eye. "I...could use your help."

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Kal's Diplomacy check in dealing with the guards is a 13, not quite enough to improve their attitude by much. (Here's a tip: When dealing with Deneith folk, it might help Kal to make use of his full name next time to take advantage of that particular feat he's got...)

Question for all of you: How is the pace going? Is it moving a bit too fast for everyone? I realize there were several posts today, but as you can see events haven't advanced a great deal yet. Since starting gameplay on Thursday, there've only been two scenes: one on the platform, and now on the steerage cart. But if it's still too hard to keep up, please let me know.

Another note: The word "train" is a bit anachronistic. Just use "rail" to refer to the vehicle at large. "Cart" or "coach" is suitable for the individual cars.

[Josh]

As the guards depart, the shifter dog-ears a page in his journal and returns it to his back.

"I am Grafth," he says to Gurend, nodding slowly as he speaks.

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Grafth, while giving mild attention to his new compatriots, also has picked up on the gnome's heated exchange, and attempts to focus on that conversation as well (listen check applies here? I've rolled one, just in case).

[Darren]

Kalarian glares at the back of the guards as they walk away. Finally, he shrugs and pushes his long coat out behind him as he thumps down heavily onto a bench opposite the man and the blonde woman. "I actually might have liked to see baldy and that moron get into it," he says to no one in particular. He seems somewhat annoyed that Gurend intervened with the guards. He shifts around for a bit as though he's trying to get comfortable.

"I am Kalarian d'Deneith," he says, as much to the blonde woman as to the Aundarian man. He is unimpressed by the man's nobility, but sees no need to be outwardly hostile towards him, either. "You seem to have recovered quite quickly," Kalarian observes, almost a question.

Hearing laughter behind him, Kalarian turns to see the wolfdog playing with the child. "Excuse me a moment. I must see to my companion."

Kalarian walks over to the dog and kneels down, whispering into his ear. His eyes shift upward while he's talking to look at Grafth. Anyone paying enough attention might notice his hands move slightly and his finger point towards the shifter. He continues to whisper into the dog's ear. A moment later he stands up, the dog following him, and returns to his spot on the bench. He addresses the blonde woman. "Please excuse my rudeness. I believe you were about to tell us who you are, my dear?" he says with a smile.

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First, I think the pace is great. The only problem seems to come in when a post happens and then a later post seems to somewhat contradict what happened previously. Other than that, I'm happy.

Second, Kal intentionally did not use his full name with the guards. He was saving that for a last resort, but he never got the chance because the Aundarian interrupted.

Third, Kal is casting Message. How do you want to handle the actual dialogue?

[Jeff]

Third, Kal is casting Message. How do you want to handle the actual dialogue?

Darren: So long as you don't mind the other players reading it (note, their characters will not hear it), you can just initiate this magical, whispered conversation (which only lasts for 10 minutes) with Grafth in your usual post. Maybe use a different text color for that one-on-one dialogue with him.

If you'd rather keep it private even from the other player's, put it in your private thread.

Note, if you're sitting and talking with other people at the time, it sure will be hard to have a private conversation that those around you won't notice.

[Darren]

Yup, but it's a whispered conversation, which is why he's covering it up by "talking" to Tangat.

Kalarian looks at Grafth while appearing to be talking to his companion. "My friend, do not react. It is Kalarian, and I am speaking only to you. I think we might wish to split our resources, as it were. The beautiful young lady and I have this gentleman under control. I need you to see what's going on with that gnome and the guard. We don't need another confrontation. Head over there and we'll take care of things over here. If you agree, clear your throat. Then head over there. If you need to tell me anything while you're over there, whisper it and I'll hear you, but BE SUBTLE. We still don't know what's going on here or who we can trust, but you seem to be on our side..."

[Lara]

"You may call me Pellorien," the blonde says in response to Kal, artlessly matching the man's haughty demeanor with just those few words. "I, for one, am glad that altercation did not end up in blows. We've seen enough of that today."

She holds his gaze for a moment before returning her attention to Gurend.

"Well, uncle, you can play it pretty well yourself! You're a sly one, aren't you?" she says with a giggle and a toss of her hair. "I can't wait to hear what else you have to say."

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No particular special actions. Just making conversation.

[Darren]

Would Kalarian know if it's normal for there to be four guards on a single rail car?

[Jeff]

Grafth is unable to make out any of the gnome's conversation from this distance. The other end of the cart is nearly 70 feet away and too many conversations are taking place amongst the other passengers. He would need to be much closer.

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The number of guards would vary between 1 and 4; most carts have many more people than this.

[Paul]

Cutter looks bored now that the guards have departed. He glances at the others, sees nothing of interest, then saunters slowly up the carriage, looking out windows as he goes, to all appearances bored with everything.

However, he does slow down and try to position himself close enough to hear the gnome, and as he walks he surreptitiously checks out the covered section, wondering if it is something valuable.

Jeff: I realize this is a long move, so it might run over a few turns? Not sure how this works.

[Jeff]

Gurend gives a wistful smile at Pellorien's words. "Oh, to be young again. You and I would be quite a team, young lady, in other circumstances. I venture the uncle and niece scheme would work quite well in many circles." He seems to be evading the questions posed to him at the moment, as if stalling. His eyes constantly watch where all the members of your group have placed themselves—the tall, wiry half-elf at the window, the rustic half-elf who healed him, and so on.

Gurend takes special note when the bald, tattooed man sidles away from the group, moving nonchalantly toward the front of the cart and the arguing gnome. The Aundairian smiles faintly, as if happy that his words have been heeded.

Cutter finds the canvas-covered bulk is pretty tightly secured, defying a closer inspection. Either what's inside is hard to contain or they just don't want anyone messing with it. It's impossible to gauge anything more without tearing into the canvas or lifting up a big swath of it, which in turn is bound with thick rope.

When Cutter reaches the halfway point, the dark-furred shifter who sat alone stands up from his bench, excuses his way past the passengers around him, and moves out into the aisle directly in front of him, temporarily blocking Cutter's advance—probably incidentally, but hard to be sure. Seeing the big man, the shifter cracks a conspiratorial grin, the sharp canines common to his kind very evident. "Where does a fellow relieve himself on this thing?" he growls. "We s'posed to just hold it?"

To the rest, they can only see that the dark-furred shifter has moved directly in front of Cutter. Gurend's smile fades, and he winces from a spasm of pain. "I...need to tell you something," he says to Pellorien, or Kal, or to those nearest him at large.

The armored Thrane glances up again at the group. Pellorien has noticed that the man had been swishing his eyes across the pages of his book of scripture for the last couple of minutes without really reading. Eavesdropping, perhaps?

[Darren]

Kalarian looks towards the other end of the rail car, then meaningfully at Grafth. He then shifts himself to the bench across from where he has been sitting, putting himself right next to Pellorien. He leans across her, his arm going around her shoulders, so that he can get close to Gurend. "Speak, then. We're listening," he says, indicating himself and Pellorien.

[Josh]

Grafth looks out the window, watching the scenery move, noting the random crack of electricity arc off the rail path. He seems to be enjoying himself, though a closer look may reveal that he is looking beyond the immediate surroundings, studying the landscape in the distance.

Seeming restless, he rises. Clearing his throat, he mutters quiet requests for pardon as he passes by the huddled group. He makes his way toward the front of the car. As he passes the Thrane, he slows, noticing the ensignia of the Silver Flame, and pauses... then moves on in as lackadaisical a manner as he can muster.

He pauses at the corner of the covered mass, close enough to hear what might be transpiring between the shifter and the tattooed man ahead.

[Jeremy]

The half-elf has maintained his distance for most of the developments, preferring to keep an eye on the guards, watching the scene as a whole. He is most interested in seeing how everyone reacts and, if weapons were to be brought out, whether or not it was worth getting involved.

However, Goran's growing impatient. He begins to slide his sword in and out of its sheath repeatedly, as loudly as possible and just a half inch or so, making a repetitive noise...

...schwip....click...schwip....click...

...thoroughly aware of the annoyance and potential intimidation it might trigger. A half-grin creases his face, as on the platform a short time before. He speaks, just loud enough for the others to hear, especially the injured man.

"So, ol' man...will we be benefiting from your trust anytime soon, will our investment in care and healing bear fruit in the foreseeable future? Maybe we should've left you to die on the platform, where you wounds or, as you've suggested, your pursuers would've finished the job."

His voice betrays a vein of anger, perhaps even rashness, and he's clearly fed up with the suggestive comments, meaningless small talk and prancing about with the truth.

"I for one am losing my interest in you, who seem more trouble than you're worth. What cost our generosity might bring begins to weigh on me, especially considering your trite comments, in the absence of which your mouth is otherwise sealed to us! Fine, keep your secrets, but while these others might be interested in needling and flirtation, I have no desire to do so while the assassins who hunt you and the over-eager guards on the Rail complete their circle around us."

He pauses, looking back and forth throughout the cabin.

"Time, my good man, seems to be of issue."

Goran stands up and stares the man in the eye, awaiting a reaction, even an indignant one, which he has decided would be better than none. Like all his choices this night (besides the healing), it is designed to provoke a reaction. The figure he cuts may not be the most impressive, being a half-elf his stature is not over-large, nor are his limbs knotted with bulging muscles. The scabbard of his sword is worn and probably was not particularly impressive to begin with, and the same can be said for his clothes, though they are sturdy and not too shabby. His face and hands are a little dirty, and his hair hastily yanked back into a band. His eyes, however, seem to betray genuine impatience and a fellow who will not hesitate to...well, to do whatever may be necessary.

[Darren]

Kalarian does not shift his body while Goran is speaking, but simply turns his head up to look at the half-elf. He is clearly growing annoyed as the speech goes on and on. He springs up from his seat, grabbing the half-elf by the shirt.

"Shut up," he growls. "Shut up, right now. I will not have your impatience ruin my plans, and I will not allow you to threaten this man. If you've lost interest, then go do something useful."

With that, Kalarian releases the half-elf, smooths Goran's shirt, puts a hand on his shoulder, then returns to his seat next to Pellorien, a sign that the half-elf has been dismissed.

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Not sure if a grapple check will have been necessary...

[Paul]

Cutter looks the shifter up and down, trying to gauge his intentions. He rests his hands on the pommels of his knives.

"Haven't got a clue. Didn't your parents ever teach you to go before long journeys?"

He cracks a cold grin, staring straight into the shifter's eyes. He is not intimidated by the shifter, and even though he realizes a fight with one will be tough, he won't move aside.

[Jeremy]

Goran looks at his shirt and chuckles a little.

"Pathetic." he replies, gazing directly at his impetuous neighbor.

"Still, we all seem to have learned a bit more about you, haven't we? At least I offered concrete assistance...what have you done?"

He leans in and whispers to Kalerian:

"I have no desire for violence, but touch me again and your precious plans will be the least of your worries, you arrogant fop."