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RP (non-canon): Pathfinder III: Come together, right now — or else

Doshii Jun

Doshii Jun

Perpetual player
Retired Staff
Arte approached the Blackenshield of Casnoriva.

He was tired. He preferred to walk, but to carry all of the writs and tokens used for expenses, along with other gear and essentials, he had taken a small gelding. The gelding put up with his weight for maybe half the trip before opting to inform the dwarf to get the hell off his back by stopping dead on at the foot of a hill.

The horse had been rewarded with a swift smack in its hindquarters with the flat of his axe, which produced the desired behavior.

In Casnoriva, people looked at him sideways, him and his gelding. Was a booger hanging out of his nose? Was he hauling around severed gnome heads? Maybe he just was that attractive a specimen.

Of course, it was because he was a dwarf with serious weapons, a serious gaze and a serious intolerance for people who stared. A snarl at one of the many wenches who looked dumbly at him garnered the desired behavior.

That's what it was all about, sometimes. Do what's needed to get someone to do whatever you want them to.

The Baron hadn't done that. He hadn't needed to because the was the Baron. He hobbled about and handed down orders. Arte sniffed at that, looking at the blackened door of the Blackenshield.

It was morning. The sun was beaming across the horizon with warming, richly yellow light, and it was something that did make Arte a little less grumpy. His brethren lacked the appreciation for sunlight. No matter. More for him. It permeated his armor, his skin, straight to his bones and warmed his stone-hard soul. Just what he needed.

Almost. On the trip over, he realized he needed an actual helm. One that could keep his head safer than the beat up leather-and-wood training hat he used. Later though.

He stepped inside the Blackenshield with his pack, axe and shield. The day bartender — some wornout lug of a man — gave him a stiff look. Arte gave him a stiff expression that told the bartender to find his hand and use it in his pants. The bartender sneered. Arte ignored him. Barkeeps hated that.

There was a collection of souls in the corner that had finished up a well-timed breakfast. Strange crew ... with an elfess at the head of it, looking dainty and pretty and elf-like with her tricky ways. Arte didn't like her yet. Maybe she was OK. Maybe.

He trudged over. There was a dwarf and a half-elf on either side of the spot where he poked his face. He was glad the table was low and the sun was pouring onto their dining table.

Arte skipped introductions for the moment. He saw what he needed to see, which was the pendant. He took out his own while the dwarf and half-elf were staring at him, probably thinking he was rude or some other dim thing.

He tossed it on the table, just so. He wasn't a stonethrower, but he pitched it so it landed just east of her napkin.

"Baron Eric Riley von Ustav has need of you, ma'am," he said.
 
It was a long road and Rose decided to go to sleep right after she arrived into Casnovaria. She walked into first inn, owned by quite polite dwarf. She did not stayed to exchange plesantries and just asked for a room. Now she woke up, not really know how long did she sleep. Room was pretty nice and comfy and she enjoyed a bed after long travel.

She got of bed, poured some water into sink she prepared before going to bed. After washing her face she dressed, into simple leather pants and shirt. She put jacket over it. She did not forget to hide one throwing dart into each sleeve. It was a habit, that usually paid off. At last she put her rapier to he side. Not that she was paranoid, but it was simply too expensive to keep in her room, even though this one had a lock on the doors. She knew the best that locks won't stop everyone. With that she checked herself in small mirror. Her long wavy chestnut hair was simply going down her backs.

Rose walked out of the room and locked behind herself. She then went down to balcony overlooking the serving area. She could be sure it was not morning because pub was quite lively. She looked down to see what kind of patron visited this place. A Dwarf, Elfess, Young woman with very large sword and sleazy looking half-elf. What a group. A Dwarf was just telling a story in very imaginative way. She had to smile when she saw that. She simply waited for him to finish before walking down.

Rose quickly reached the bar and looked at the owner of the inn. She smiled and waved to get his attention.

"You have quite comfy room master dwarf," she said when he got to her. "But now I am quite hungry, could I bother with some simple meal and vine to enjoy with it? Oh and please could you take a cup of your finest mead to that storyteller of a dwarf? I quite enjoyed his story and want to thank him in a way." She said to him quietly so the group would not hear.
 
“If it do you,” Audley, the proprietor, replied pleasantly. He was not a dwarf, of course, but then again it did not much matter to him how the customers viewed him so long as they kept on viewing him, over and over again, when their throats got dry, their brains all too clear for comfort. “If you take a seat, ‘ll have someone bring you out something.”

He turned to the sandy-haired northerner on the other end of the bar, catching his eye and nodding him towards the kitchen. The scruffy codger stopped glaring at the customers long enough to acknowledge Audley’s wishes and skulk back into his larder. The cook with the hard eyes had been looking at one of the customers entering in the morning – a strange thing, this many customers in the morning. Audley followed Weber’s gaze to the table and considered the group for a moment or two. They were now the only people still hanging around in the morning. Mostly, the miners would come in and take their meals with what pay they garnered from their companies, and the caravans would already have moved on to trade in the modest market that was springing up around Casnoriva and Virthandr, and already it would be a swirling cacophony of color and sound in spite of the gray morning mists. The Blackenshield had nearly emptied out – now, these fine ladies and gentlemen were his only customers, and that meant they were also his best customers. Ever the amiable friend and patron of the thirsty and the hungry, the sad and the boastful, the wine tasters and the dead drunks of the world, Audley went for the for-special bung mallet, resisting the urge to whistle an old killing song he’d suddenly remembered from his a-travelin’ days, when the graven hammer had been set to other purposes.

Glory and honor, forever. Kegslayer. Bungsmasher, bane of all wooden stoppers. Leave no keg untapped!

-----------------------

At the table, Ruvia had stopped talking, choosing instead to examine first the pendant, then the messenger who carried it. Her stilled voice left a wide void in its wake and nervous silence rushed to fill it.

Carefully, she picked up the small pendant from beside her napkin and held it up to the light cutting through the thick, imperfect glass windows. She turned it one way, then the other, holding it carefully in her palm with the thin silver chain in an almost liquid puddle beneath it. Her expression, so empathetic, so vibrant with color and friendly and plainly amiable, suddenly became as solid and unreadable as polished slate.

Slowly, she ran a fingernail over the edge of the smooth stone, and must have tripped some catch or lock or other; it separated just like a picture locket, and the elfess spent a few moments looking at what it contained before she snapped it shut again, tipped her palm, and allowed the pendant to slide off into the satchel which she had rested against the leg of her seat. A flicker of sadness, or perhaps regret, showed just briefly in her eyes before she looked back up to Arte.

“You have my attention.”
 
Arte scratched his cheek with a dirt-crusted fingertip. Her attention? He needed a lot more than that.

"They're mining down below us, the dwarves are. They hit a door they don't recognize and are too yellow to examine themselves. The Baron wants it handled. He says you're the one to help me — " he looked around the table — "and the rest of this lot, do it. Expenses paid, reward after we clear it out. Sooner we get it done the better, I say."

The dwarf smoothed his single-braided beard. "Might as well introduce me to this collection of souls, in case they don't suffice and I have to conscript some other sap."
 
"Ooop! Looks like you lot has a lot t'get to!" said Grier as he had just begun to sit down. Figuring that the group of people at the table were already a group, and when the other dwarf said 'you lot', he didn't think himself included. "I'll not pry into y'personal business and all those matters. This simple priest'll find some space on that bar over there." He pulled of his glasses and bowed respectfully. "Good luck with that there door, lads an' lassies."
 
"No," the elfess said brusquely, her voice remarkably too familiar with the tone of command for argument. As though she had realized this too late, she added more softly and with less obvious frustration, "please, stay."

Timeless viridian eyes traveled back to Arte. Slowly, Ruvia stood up, and then she bowed forward, her hair cascading into a veil. It caught the light, glittering like fine-wrought gold, for just a brief instant.

"Ruvia Farwalker," she offered, "And I ask your forgiveness for forgotting my manners, freeman dwarf. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. My companions are simply of the road. I have just met them this evening. They can introduce themselves, if they wish."
 
Grier stopped as commanded and looked over his shoulder at Ruvia, and then over at the other dwarf. He seemed the gruff sort, a little too gruff for the cleric's taste. Still, the elfess seemed wish this task on all of them. Part of him said to continue walking, and forget the woman's request. Another part thought of what may truly be down there, and if what was down there was trouble. This was great deal to consider in the two seconds it took him to respond.

"I see. Well!" Grier turned around, giving a short bow to his head to the other dwarf before settling down in his chair, "My name is Grier Bolimar of Highhelm. I'mma' cleric of Sarenrae, and a mighty good doctor t'boot! I also like tellin' stories."
 
Rose must have come really sleepy yesterday to think owner was a dwarf. Well one is bound to make mistakes sometimes. She nodded to the man and walked to the empty table. She let her rapier on the table to have eyes on it. It was not just a simple rapier after all. She drew first few centimeters of the blade.

"So Edward," she whispered to the blade. "What you think we should do now. We have money, we are in new town. That is all nice, but we need to keep ourselves busy somehow don't we."
 
Zoroen was quietly inspecting the scene. He thought the stew was taking a while to arrive, but his mind had been set to more... pressing matters. Particularly of the soldier-like dwarf that had just arrived and the quest he had imposed so suddenly upon Ruvia. Normally he wouldn't be one to get into another's affairs, but this time around it was different. For his own motives, he would choose to follow them.

"Well, I am Zoroen Valenwood. And I will personally follow these lovely ladies to the ends of the world if I must to make sure they're safe." He grinned, then chuckled before correcting himself. "I jest, I jest," Zoroen turned to look at Ruvia and Halka then back at the dwarf, "not that these ladies aren't lovely, but I have my own reasons to join this quest. I need to make a living, too, you know? Surely there must be dangers below that someone like me might be able to assist with, and what better way than putting my archery skills to good use?"

It was true, up to an extent. Ulterior motives aside, he was in need of some money at the moment. How he got it was more or less irrelevant.
 
Audley Gabor set the board and drink in front of his bar-sitter, adding in a shallow cup of spiced wine. It was the last of the imported casks he had received from Varisia in the west, but he didn’t mind giving it out. It was strong stuff, and it loosened the lips as well as the coinpurse.

“That’s two sail,” he told Rose – they used the Andorian coinage for the most part, and sail was a gold piece, though the weight was negligible – “And the food is on the house, do you ken it.”

Audley gave Rose an easy gap-toothed smile, the tavernmaster’s lazy smile of amicability, and then moved off to get the mead for the dwarf at the table.

---

At Rose’s hip, the sword, Edward , stirred.

The pommel gem shifted, as if it had passed from one light to another, one shadow to another, and seemed – insomuch as a gem can – to examine its surroundings.

Testily, it stated in her head, Well, excuse me, princess, but I am a sword. I would heartily suggest you cut things with me. I do very well with vocal chords. There was this one time when I belonged to an Andorian lord’s discarded concubine, and she…”

At that point, Edward the sword entered into a tirade that Rose had heard before. A spurned lover, a slashed throat; though, the sword gave the story a different embellishment every time, as if its memory were faulty, or it were just making it up.

Probably, it was. Tough to tell with a magical sword, though.

---

When the introductions had finished, Ruvia once more returned to her seat – her height then became far less stark and imposing, though her whiteless green eyes remained unreadable, swirling faintly as she glanced around the table.

“They have introduced themselves,” she stated, “those that wish to. And it is now your turn to speak again, freeman."

Ruvia folded her hands together and leaned forward on her elbows, cradling her chin, smiling as if bemused. It softened her gaze somewhat.

"There are few things in the world I have no knowledge of, though this particular thing is not my specialty. But perhaps, before you lead me into the dark places beneath the mountain and I start bumping my head on things, you might enlighten us with a better description. You have others to convince. One has vouchsafed my life, and the life of Halka, so him you have and I. But Halka has yet to speak, and the master surgeon as well; him, I am growing extremely fond of. So please sit. Or has Riley sent me a boss instead of a messenger?"
 
Arte sensed a headache coming on.

The elfess was all flowery talk and pretty glances, as elves were wont to be. And arrogant — "few things" his ass. He wagered there were more than a few things about the dwarves she didn't know.

But that was all moss along the walls. A job had to be done. He weighed the others.

The archer was untrustworthy. In the day-to-day sense, he probably was fine, but Arte wanted to know more about those motives of his. Being so quick to defend the life of the elfess made him wonder if the fool was simply taken with her or bewitched. Either way, he vowed to find a good helm to protect from arrows into the back of his head and neck.

The dwarf was queer. A dwarf cleric was common enough, but Sarenrae? Goddess of Love and Rutting? And a "surgeon." Arte saw what surgeons did to good soldiers with wounds that needed much less work than they got. Choppers was all they were. But he was a dwarven chopper, so maybe he he was better about it. Dwarves had less flesh to chop. And from Highhelm, too. Good city. Strong clans.

Halka seemed uneventful. At least one of them was.

"A boss," Arte said. "Arte Rindalson, son of Leif Rindalson of clan Rindal, near Eran's Rest. Currently in service to the Countess von Ustav."

He didn't sit, but he did reach behind him to a side pocket on his pack, and produced a book. It had many strips of bandage material in it for marks. "The maps are in there, but there isn't anything about the door. Rock-for-brains miners must not have seen fit to sketch something out. The Countess made a deal with the dwarves for minerals that Virlych County then can forge into soldier-grade materiel."

The way he said "soldier" suggested the grade was a quality beneath him.

"There's political muck around the problem, but I don't stand tall enough to rake it, nor do I care to try. Suffice to say your 'Riley' and my commander want it handled. Somehow."

He clenched a fist by his side, cracking a few knuckles.
 
Rose magical fingers moved under the table and reappeared with two gold coins in them. He brought her vine that was apparently expensive, but she did not comment it. After all she just got to town so she could treat herself.

"I have coins from the south, I hope that is okay with you. Gold is gold after all." She said with a smile as she set the coins in bartenders hand. Her attention then went back to the only other non-empty table. She listened to the groups, saying their names and what not, while she ate her bread and cheese.

It seemed like interesting group. Beautiful elfess who seemed to know how use words. She was probably as intelligent as she was beautiful. The dwarf that told the story earlier was cheerful little fellow. Rose herself liked dwarfs, because they were honest about themselves and about others. If dwarf did not like you, he would tell you in the eyes and let you do whatever you please with the information, it was not his problem. Elfs and humans were more likely to hide behind lies and what not.

This dwarf also seemed to have good will of other people in his heart. A good thing, though sad if he would let others use that side of his against him. Rose knew that good hearted people are the easiest to scam. The half-elf seemed like someone to worry about. He surely was acting like charmfull fellow. In her experience when someone tried to "protect her" as a "beautiful lady" he usually tried to stab her in the side-alley later if not something worse.

The second dwarf had a scent of experience on him. Rose did not let herself fool by funny looking wooden helmet. Axe at his side seemed like weapon that seen its share of blood and death. Half-elf girl just though every dwarf knows how to fight anyway. He seemed like 'to the point' kind of guy, though bit of a cold fish. Apparently he was one to talk to in that group.

Last one, the girl clad in leather who seemed almost like some kind of savage from wood caught Rose's attention. Chestnut-haired half-elf was a girl from a city so people like that always interested her. They were usually dangerous, but also interesting. This girl herself mostly likely had stories to share too. She also seemed to kept her wits together as she did not said single word yet and observed the situation.

"Well Eddie, I just might have found something to busy ourselves with." She said quietly to her sword. She swallowed last bit of cheese, took her cup of vine and walked to the table.

"Excuse my rudeness," she said, standing next to the dwarf in wooden helmet. "I happened to overheard a part of your conversation and it seemed like you are looking for sell-swords and hired help. I happen to be looking for some kind of income right now so if you are hiring I would be interested in hearing you out. If you are not then I apologise and be on my way." She explained to him, fast-talking and not letting him interrupt her.
 
Arte strummed his beard once, slowly, like he was petting a skittish animal, before turning to face the woman.

She squared as someone who knew which end of the sword went in the enemy before she drew it.

"You with this group?" he gruffly asked.
 
"Actually I am on my own, I arrived into town yesterday." Rose answered the question. She looked the dwarf right in the eye, but she did not lower herself or anything. If her go problem with her being six feet tall, he could get himself a footstool.
 
Halka, with her arms crossed over, had, as she always did, smiled and giggled during most of the conversation. However she fell quiet as the impressive presence of the dwarf had joined their company.

Her smile only turned into a more fiendish grin as word came of adventure, though blinking as their newly joined story telling blast of a dwarf was about to leave.

Words of her own were not needed as Ruvia seemed to keep things rather strict and in control. Something which Halka surprised little.
"Good with words..." she whispered through her bared teeth.

Sneaky Half-Elf said:
"Well, I am Zoroen Valenwood. And I will personally follow these lovely ladies to the ends of the world if I must to make sure they're safe." He grinned, then chuckled before correcting himself. "I jest, I jest," Zoroen turned to look at Ruvia and Halka then back at the dwarf, "not that these ladies aren't lovely, but I have my own reasons to join this quest. I need to make a living, too, you know? Surely there must be dangers below that someone like me might be able to assist with, and what better way than putting my archery skills to good use?"
Click to expand...
Halka gave a grin back at Zoroen as her eyes darkened. Nudging in his direction and giving a mid-air bite at him, her jaws audibly snapping closed. Winking and pointing at her own ear before pointing at him.

Suddenly looking back up as Ruvia mentioned her. "Huh?" She exclaimed and scratched through her hair rather unshamefully as she thought for a few moments.

"Well... money's always good, though a door beneath the earth's floor is a bit worrysome. Though a well fight is food for the mind and an excersize for me and my blade... better be something happening down there!"

Halka stretched out and wriggled a little in her seat, giving her blade a quick glance and looking back at the dwarf and the elfess "This part of that story of yours Ruvia?" She asked before her eyes fell upon the approaching half-elf lady who had been delighting herself on some food a while earlier.
 
"It may be," Ruvia the Farwalker answered Halka, cryptically.

The elfess accepted the dwarf's tome with a relative reverance, moving her own tome - which, compared to this one, seemed considerably more new and slightly smaller - aside in order to have the great leather-bound thing in front of her instead. Green orbs glinting in the table's candlelight, she examined the cover, running her hand over it and the spine both before cracking it open.

And that was where they lost her. Although she was there, bodily, in the chair against the wall with the window not three feet above her head and a diminutive but distinctly finished meal in front of her, there was another part of her that was clearly engrossed. She flipped the pages, one after the other, starting with what appeared to be an index.

"Kariah Azmerin?" she questioned, to nobody in particular. A few more page flips followed. And kept following.

Eventually she came to the maps, which were not actually part of the tome by binding. These, she produced in sheaves, and scooting back began to examine them, one by one.

About that same time, the barkeep appeared with a broad, round wooden bus tray, carrying a solitary stein of mead. This he sat in front of the dwarf-priest, with another gaptooth smile and a nod in Rose's direction. "I think, I do, she's taken a liking. Mead's on her." Afterwards, he promptly and smartly began to gather up the group's detritus onto the tray, clearing the table so that eventually only the low, guttering candles in their waxy clay basin remained to the group.

When all was finished, the elfess spread the maps on the table and said, "This is fair writing. Perhaps it will serve us somehow. And since you seem to have convinced others aside from myself, I suppose we are now at your mercy, Boss Rindalson. When would you like to go beneath?"
 
Arte's lips twisted into a little frown. "Arte is fine."

He looked at the group, including the woman with the sword. They all were fed ... they probably didn't have too much junk to haul with them ...

But they probably lacked provisions for a long journey, which they would need. Just to be safe.

"One hour," he said. "I need to eat. You lot need to pack." He stroked his beard. "We'll find provisions with the dwarves."
 
"Oh by the stone she shines upon!" bellowed Grier as the beer was finally set down in front of him. His throat was mighty dry from the adventure, and the lengths of the story he had told. He scooped up the stein not in one, but two hands. The container tipped on his lips and he began to drink deeply.

"I,"

Drink Drink.

"I've got enough for five days f'meself."

Drink Drink Slam, he set down the mug rather forcefully. He scanned a gaze amongst the others, taking a few short breaths, whipping some froth from his lips.

"I take the light wherever there is darkness. I can keep our bellies full even when our pouches starve."

He snatched up the beer stein. Drink drink drink drink.
 
Zoroen caught the silent remarks that Halka threw his way and chuckled a bit. He lifted his eyebrows twice, jokingly. Then he would dismiss it on a dime, turning his attention to the dwarven soldier that seemed to have quite an appetite. The comments of the cleric would bring him to his on conclusions regarding packing. "Well, this backpack here isn't just for decoration... I got all my packing right here." Zoroen lightly kicked the backpack that was lying on the floor next to his chair. He carried the damn thing about everywhere. "So I'm good to go whenever you are."

The ranger would look at the rogue lass. He noticed the obvious similarities and grinned. Ah of course...! "Hey ear sister! We'd be happy to have you along! You look capable enough...", Zoroen said, looking her over and sizing her up (or perhaps checking her out), "What's your name, though? You haven't said yet!"

Zoroen understood the hardships of being a half-elf, so he always felt identified with others of his kin. Thankfully it wasn't as hard on him, since his parents had never had any problems with living with each other while they aged at separate intervals, but he could still feel himself set apart from the others of the caravan. So even with his more or less pleasant childhood, he still felt different from humans.
 
Rose gave dwarf a nod. It was good that she already got herself into some new adventure. She could not really imagine herself just sitting on her backside or trying to invest her money. It would not be her thing. Also trying to steal here would be dangerous. There is most likely some organisation here, that takes care of such things. She would have to contact them first to keep out of trouble and that would be a bother. But now she needed to get some food for the journey.

But before she could return to the barkeep the other half-elf talked to her. He called her ear-sister. She frowned a little at that remark. It annoyed her that most of the other half-elfves thought she was her family. Being same race and being persecuted like them did not mean they can act familiar with her. Elves, humans, Half-elves. All are annoying. She liked dwarfs, halfing and gnomes. Those races were mostly set in their beliefs.

Dwarfs distrust everyone the same. Halflings are carefree about everything and Gnomes favoured anyone who had the coin to buy whatever they were selling. They were honest about their natures, not like the other races. She liked wizards too because they were arrogant buggers and acted same way with anyone.

"It is wonderful how you can judge my skills simply from my mouth moving. I wonder how and where you learned that feat." She said to other half-elf, clearly mocking him. She was not fond of males. Most of them were just interested in her chest. "But to be polite I will tell you my name. I am Rose McAllister and I fare from the lake city of Caliphas."
 
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