Chapter 1: A Peaceable Kingdom

[Ed]

Oss leaves the townhouse, shaking his head after doing a quick search to make sure he got what he could from the forged or the house.

"What in the hells did I get myself into?" he says, though it seems as though he might actually be smiling. "Let's get out of here. Lead the way, lady."

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Feel free to do a search check or two. Sorry guys, I may be limited tomorrow. I'm having some sudden health issues and am not sure what's coming of them. Assume Oss will be hostile and grumpy as always

[Jeremy]

Goran walks up to Tamyra, and while passing Kal he says-

"I'll help carry that sack of potatoes, if you need a break."

Once he's up by the d'Orien, he says quietly to her-

"If you want to tell me at least generally where we're headed, perhaps I can scout ahead a little, and maybe help us avoid another ambush?"

He is making an effort to be as polite as a combat-fresh half-elf from the forest can be.

---

It goes without saying that Goran always retrieves and carefully stows all his weapons...but I said it anyway, 'cause that's just how I roll.

[Josh]

Grafth will take a quick look at the pick. If it looks like it's worth the trouble to sell later, he'll pick it up. With a final, glowering look at the residence, he exits to follow the others, happy to be moving again.

[Jeff]

...to make sure he got what he could from the forged or the house.

Ed: not entirely sure what this means.

[Jeff]

Oss does a quick search of what's been revealed already, but finds little. It looks like a crime scene that has been investigated and cleaned up already. Dried blood stains. One thing he notices—and this from his time on battlefields—the pattern of blood on the walls suggest that the weapons used to do the killing were sharp but swing with considerable force. Not quite like sword wounds—those would be slashing or cleaner stabs—but perhaps something more like...

Grafth eyes the military pick, and even in the dim lighting he can tell its a fine weapon—clearly masterwork, worth several times the value of a pick forged by a master smith. He tucks it under one arm, retrieves his shortspear (its steel tip looking rather dull now), and heads out, followed by Oss.

Taymra nods at Goran, though there is a hardness in her eyes. "Right. My apartment overlooks Chalice Center." She points to the northwest side of the city. "Most people won't bother us, I think. But if you could let us know if we're getting to close to any watchmen, that would help. With the fires occupying everyone right now, I think we'll be left alone." She looks Goran up and down. "But don't carry that bow like you intend to use it. Makes people edgy."

"What's your name, miss?" she asks Pellorien, friendlier to her, as she begins to lead the party off the street. "And who are your friends? Were you traveling with them when the rail was hit?" She keeps her voice low.

Now that you're out in the streets, with the night lit up by evenly-spaced everbright lanterns, you can see that Taymra d'Orien has peculiar hair: a platinum blonde so light it's almost white. Her face is pretty but troubled, and her movements are in obvious pain. She constantly clutches the cloak right near her collar bone.

Kal can't help but envy her dragonmark. Where he must take pains to display his at times, Taymra's is in plain view at all times. Yet if ever she needs to hide it...nothign short of magic or a mask could do the trick.

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Oss's Search check = 19
Grafth's Appraise check = ?

[Jeremy]

Goran grins at her bow-carrying remark, and slides the weapon over his shoulder, as he normally carries it when not in use. He slips his cloak over most of his clothing and weaponry, and dashes a little bit ahead (though not completely out of sight of the group), to keep an eye around corners, etc.

Before he leaves her, however, he glances at her wound and remarks-

"When we get somewhere quiet, I can offer a bit more healing, and someone should dress that wound, it has an evil look to it."

[Darren]

"I'm just fine, half-elf," Kalarian says as he carries the rogue's limp form. "I had to carry many a friend off the battlefield just like this during the war..."

[Joe]

Streko jogs up to Taymara and takes her hand.

"If you will allow me, My Lady. From a distance, a mother and her child would seem to be much less threatening to the Watch and with a small contingent to help guard us, we shouldn't be a treat to local brigands and cutthroats. I would also like to ensure your wound isn't life threatening and help to relieve some of the pain once we are in a safe location, if you would allow me."

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Streko, if allowed, will do a cursory visual examination of the wound to determine just how badly she's been hurt. If he thinks a more detailed search is necessary, he will insist they stop for a brief moment so that he might examine it...searching for signs of poison or other insidious marks left by the nasty wound.

[Jeff]

Taymra shakes her head at Goran's words, a wordless acknowledgement and thanks for the offer. When Streko takes her hand, she instinctly pulls her hand away.

"I'm...sorry." She keeps her cloak pulled close around her injuries, and keeps her hand to herself. "I was careless..." Her expression twitches into hatred as she glances at the unconscious rogue. "I can pay for my own healing services. In fact—" She looks around at your group as a whole. "If necessary, we can stop at the Jorasco hospital first, if your wounds are grave."

She keeps watching glancing behind.

Staying nearly a block ahead, Goran keeps and eye out for anything suspicious. Although he sees nothing amiss, he is getting the feeling that he's being tailed. Or perhaps the whole group.

Taymra keeps pace beside Pellorien, seeming to confide only in her. "I found you and your friend because I waited...because I suspected someone else would come to the residence. But this man—" Another venemous glance at the rogue. "He found you some other way. He asked about a book. I think he—or someone he works for—is using magic to find you. Probably because of this book. Do you know what it's about?"

[Darren]

"Master Streko, I think your grasp of guile is a bit misguided. A mother and child in the company of well-armed guards, one of whom is carrying an unconscious man, would likely draw more stares than anything else. Especially if the mother is dragonmarked. Let's stick with the story that we were out drinking and this one passed out."

Speaking to Taymra, he adds, "As for stopping at Jorasco, I think we would have some explaining to do as to why he's unconscious and we don't want him revived. Let's get to a safe spot, first. We can deal with our wounds later."

[Jeff]

"Not necessarily true," Taymra says, glancing at Streko. "Jorasco is a business foremost. Like Orien and Deneith. They don't require you to explain your injuries. But if they think the unconscious man in our possession could pose a threat to their staff or customers, that's another story."

[Darren]

"The fewer people who see us, the fewer tongues that can wag. Or be pulled until they talk. Let's keep moving."

[Joe]

Streko nods at Taymra's words. "And this man has proven to be quite a threat to others. I agree with Lord Kalarian. We should find a safe haven quickly, as much to lick our own wounds as to keep from prying eyes and curious Watchmen. Once inside, it will be easier to subdue this man and, perhaps, find some answers."

[Jeff]

Taymra still seems to wait for Pellorien's name, attempting to draw her into conversation.

She glances only briefly to Oss. "Thanks again."

[Lara]

"I'm Pellorien," the blonde woman introduces herself. "Thank you for inviting us to your home. I think we could use a safe haven."

Watching the other woman carefully, she says, "Sorry about what happened back there. I was afraid you were a goner.

"I agree with the others. We should get to a safe place where we can talk with less of a chance of being overheard. And since we have the resources, I hope you will let one of the others attend to your wounds."
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[Jeff]

"It is good to meet you, Pellorien." Taymra shrugs at her other words. "Believe it or not, I've been in worse situations. I'm glad I met you and your friends. Don't worry; I'm with Orien, but I'm after the truth, not you."

Goran can't shake the feeling that the party is being tailed in some form, yet he can't substantiate it, either. There are no suspicious parties following him or the group. Although the city is full of sights and sounds unfamiliar to the half-elf, he is at least able to steer the party away from watch patrols.

The only passers-by who take note of your group are easily fooled into thinking you are adventurer revelers. You even spot some real ones here and there.

At last, Taymra d'Orien leads you to her street in the northwest section of the city, where a tall tenement block rises just south of the Chalice Center, Fairhaven's hub of transportation which houses both Orien and Lyrandar enclaves. She examines the rogue (whose weight seems to have doubled, if not tripled, to Kal's protesting shoulders by this time—but the Deneith heir is strong enough to bear it), checking to see just how "out cold" he might be. Then she turns to the group.

"My apartment is on the eighth floor." She points to a door adjacent to the main entrance the building. A gleaming metal plaque above the door depicts a tilted chalice spilling dark liquid and the words The Silvered Chalice.

The door to the Chalice opens, and two men stumble out. One is a husky human, the other a lean half-orc. The human mumbles something, points at Grafth, then laughs. The half-orc rolls his eyes. The human belches loudly.

Taymra shakes her head as the two men lurch away. "But I do know the owner of this tavern; we can get a bit of discretion inside. If we were followed, it might actually be safer in here, even with him"—she swats the rogue's body—"in a public place, than up at my place. Besides, I left the other....rail survivor...in here. Which place do you want to go?"

[Joe]

Streko motions to the tavern.

"I, for one, would like to see this other rail survivor! Please, take us to this person. Oh, and if we do decide to go inside, someone should inform Goran. He should not be left out here alone and vulnerable to whatever has been stalking us."

[Jeff]

The group has caught up with Goran, who could go no further than the destination.

[Jeremy]

Goran approaches Kal and Tamyra, speaking quietly, wearing a face of a stupid, half-drunk grin, in case anyone's watching. He claps a hand on Kal's shoulder, as if needing a little help to stand up straight. His voice is low...and troubled.

"If my senses are still worth even a penny, then I am certain we're being followed, and by someone or something who is very good at their business. In fact, they will be watching us right now."

The half-elf lowers his voice yet another notch.

"Whatever business we have, we should assume they will know where we are, who we're with. I don't think I can throw off their hunt, not here, not in the city. Out in the wilds, perhaps..."

- his words trail off, as he studies the crowds in the street. He is talented enough to do so and appear as though he's just glancing about with no agenda.

---

Spot check?

[Lara]

Pellorien will assist Goran with the Spot check.

[Darren]

"I suggest the tavern. Our would be assailants may be less likely to attack us in a public place. Besides, we don't even know her," he nods towards Taymra, "so beyond the fact that we were all attacked together, I don't see why we have any reason to trust her, yet. There seem to be enough different groups interested in killing us, she could have easily been caught up in the middle of it." Smiling at Taymra despite the weight on his shoulders, he adds, "No offense, of course."

[Jeremy]

Goran chuckles a bit at Kal's remark re: Tamyra.

"You would have us trust the people of your house, whom none of us knew but you...yet you're not so quick to trust those of another?"

But he nods, smiling. "Of course I agree, we should be careful. I'm not going to trust anyone too much either; for that matter you shouldn't trust me too much! I'm sure she has her doubts about us, too! Imagine the risk she's taking in approaching us alone. I don't know if that makes her more trustworthy or more dangerous...or both."

-he says the last sentence in a lower tone, as if speaking to himself.

Goran's laughter and tone are friendly, however. It's clear that, at least from the half-elf's perspective, the frost between he and the d'Deneith is beginning to thaw.

[Darren]

Kalarian bristles a bit at Goran's words. "In fact, half-elf, I did NOT trust Lady Korvine at first, and it cost me dearly to try to protect the lot of you from an unfounded fear. And my reward for paying that price was that the lot of you threw her trust back in her face without even considering what she had to say." Kalarian is still visibly angered, but his tone calms down. "Let's go to the tavern. I want to know what's going on. I also want a drink, and perhaps to find a pretty girl inside." Now Kalarian smiles.

[Jeremy]

Goran rolls his eyes and, shaking his head, follows Kal into the tavern, grumbling. So much for the "thaw" between them.

"I've had about enough ego for one day."

[Joe]

Streko steps up to Goran, pats his hand and speaks to him in a low voice...

"Please don't take Kalarian's words so harshly. He is a dragonmarked of his House who has discovered that his own life may have been forfeit by that very House. His beliefs may be shaken and he is reacting as if he may have been betrayed by those whose faith he is put his entire being into. He trusts no one very far and, sadly, few of us have given him reason to trust, with our constant bickering. I truly believe that he is doing what he believes is best for all of us and trying to find answers to this conundrum.

"I ask that you remember one thing, my good half-elf...Lord Kalarian is not our enemy and his house, as well as House Orien, may hold some of the answers we seek as to who is trying to kill us...and, personally, where my missing sister might be.

"Also, I wished to thank you for your scouting efforts and your help subduing the Rogue. Your quick thinking, I am convinced, has kept us alive and in a better position to understand the strange goings on. I, indeed, we all, are in your debt, my friend."

He bows to the half-elf and wobbles drunkenly. "Perhaps we should get inside and prepare for what will come next."

[Jeff]

Taymra watches the brief exchange between Goran, Streko, and Kal with some interest. "The tavern, then," she says when they've finished.

She opens the door to the Silvered Chalice and leads you in. The threshhold gives way to a narrow, bottlenecking entrance room, then opens up in the common room of the tavern.

It turns out to be much larger than it first appears, a sizeable room packed tight with numerous tables and chairs, the real size of the room hidden by a profusion of metal columns. Bolted to the center of each table is an iron centerpiece made to resemble a chalice (though they are anything but silvery). As you work your way through the tables, you can see the tavern's gimick: serving men and women stop off at the tables and fill the large "chalices" with the party's beverage of choice. Most swirl with frothy ale, but you see a few other unusual choices: water, milk, and one table of elves even dip small glasses into a red wine.

On one side of the room is the bar, where a human and halfling serve the many thirsty patrons. Kal gets a few glances from the burden he carries, but relaxes when he sees—not one, but three—other unconscious bodies throughout the room, mostly patrons passed out on their tables. The air is smoky but every window on the southmost wall is open, ventilating it, and the smell of alcohol and some sort of beef pervades the whole. The scent it inviting to Grafth, but even his stomach is soured by the recent events and the still painful burns of his legs.

Against the wall opposite the bar is a narrow wooden stage, rising only a foot off the floor. Some instruments are set up, but there aren't any performers just now. Possibly on a break.

The people in here are quite a mix, as diverse as the Fairhaven markets. Despite the fair amount of alcohol, the atmosphere doesn't seem hostile. There is a sense of comraderie, as the patrons seem to be locals with only a scattering of travelers or foreigners. The noise level is moderate for the size of the room.

Taymra catches the eye of the halfling barkeep and nods, then leads your party to a circlular booth near the far right-hand corner of the common room, easily large enough for the whole group.

"Let's sit for a moment," she says, "just to get settled, and give the servers a chance to notice and serve us. Then we'll talk. Lord Deneith, let's put our friend in the middle.

The nearest exit is a Staff Only door, and the tables and booths adjacent to yours are still empty. It would be difficult indeed for anyone to hear your conversation without getting close.

[Jeremy]

Goran laughs a hearty, mirthful laugh, probably the first such honest laughter he has let out in a long time, certainly since the attack on the Rail. After, he claps Streko firmly on the back.

"Ha! Clearly wisdom is not measured by stature, nor perhaps can the over-tall be presumed wise, eh? You speak calmly and with intelligence, my friend. And I know Kal is no enemy, else one of us would surely have run him through by now, or he us!" he chuckles a bit again, enjoying his joke.

"I don't know the details, but I know the risk he takes, and I sense the burden he bears. I bore it once, too, when I left my people to hunt the murderers of...well, anyway..." his voice trails off. His eyes flicker with a burning grief and rage, but it passes.

"Nonetheless, we must all (including myself) drop our petty fears or pride if we are to get anywhere...otherwise we are only a rag-tag group of individuals fighting for our own ends, getting nowhere. I sincerely hope you find your sister, friend, and that she is well. If I can help you, I will."

He weighs the coins in hand, a little sourly since his pocket is lighter than it was.

"Still...a drink? It's on me!" (he is offering a drink to Streko...he hasn't the cash to buy the whole table a round!)

[Darren]

Seeking out the prettiest young waitress, Kalarian motions for her to come over to the table. When she does, he gives her a smile as he orders a round of drinks for the table. He suggests that she does not go too far as he gives her a wink, confident that his good looks and charm are winning her over. Kal cocks his head a little to the side to watch her walk away as she goes to get the drinks.

Offering Goran a smile after she leaves, he says, "It's okay, half-elf. This round is on me. I owe you one." He claps Goran on the shoulder and goes back to watching the serving girl.

[Joe]

Streko takes a deep breath and smiles and the strange group of friends he has made.

"My deepest and most humble thanks. Perhaps, soon, I will take you up on your offer, my friend," he says to Goran.

"However, I think a round on our dear comrade d'Deneith will go a long way to soothing some ruffled feathers amongst our motley crew...and then, a nice quiet place to heal and pray would be wonderful. With all the cloak and dagger incidents of late, I'm looking forward to a cold ale, a hot bath and a comfortable bed...although the last two can wait until we have some answers."

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What time is it, Jeff?

[Jeff]

It is mid to late evening, likely close to 10th bell.

Kal flags down a serving girl, choosing the most comely from among the lot. She returns with a smile, approaching the table and looking Kal up and down. She raises one questioning eyebrow when she looks at the scorched (and, having thawed, damp) trousers he wears, with seemingly random burn holes. Nevertheless, her attitude is pleasant. "Ale or mead for your table, my lord?"

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Kal's Charisma check = 22