[DARPG] Scene 1: An Arl's Request [IC]

[jameson (ST)]

Stenhold. Deep in the south-west of Ferelden near the edges of the Korkari Wild the fortress of Stenhold protects the Hinterlands from invasion by the Chasind and Avvarian peoples as well as the much more tangible threat of Darkspawn Incursions. The hold itself is the home of the local Arl, one of the Ferelden higher nobility, who's duty it is to protect the land and people. Arl Neruda is a warrior first and foremost, and recent incursions by Darkspawn have set he and his men on high alert.

A call has come from the Arl himself, a call for men and women of adventure, or even just those looking for a little coin. Scouts have come back from the south with word of a large army of Darkspawn, and the Arl is calling his liege men to battle. Soldiers from throughout the Arl's territory are preparing to march south and deal with the Darkspawn before they can threaten any of the outlying villages and settlements. Unfortunately for the Arl and his wife their two children were to be met by some of the Arl's personal guards on their way from Denerim back to Stenhold. The Arl's call has gone out for those of worth who would be willing to meet his children and escort them back to the castle Stenhold safely while he and his men deal with the Darkspawn army in the south.

As you approach Stenhold you see that the fortress has seen its better days; crumbling stones and thinly thatched roofs, top walls of cracked stone and mortar, or broken brick and weather-worn wood. The Grey skies pour forth a hard rain that pummels the buildings of the hold, exposing the cracks and gaps as water pours through them. Stenhold has clearly fallen on hard times of late.

As you near the castle you see soldiers in the fields, drilling the rain, or working to secure their belongings in the wet. The castle gates are open and the courtyard shows more soldiers drilling. A few masons struggle to patch holes in the wall while thatchers scramble on the rain slicked roofs to patch gaps in the thatch.

Apart from that the castle courtyard is bustling with activity. Farmers and artisans ply their wares from rain sodden carts while servants, many of whom are elves, dash through the rain on errands for the Arl's household or armies. A small knot stands apart from the rest though, a group of adventurers and sell-swords; all hoping to earn coin from the Arl's need.

All of you are there, the group of adventurer's and sell-swords. Please introduce your characters with physical description, motivation for being there, and any background you might like to provide. I'll pick up again once we've heard from the majority of you all.

[Nayobee]

A look of disgust but also sympathy crossed Nayobee's face as she watched her kin run errands for their masters. She pulled her hood a bit deeper to conceal her elven heritage and was slowly asking herself if coming here was a good idea. As an Apostate Mage she was hunted by the Templars and she was sure Stenhold would host one of their Temples and with it surely a fair number of Templars who'd be more than willing to kill her.

On the other hand, who would be looking for an Elven Apostate Mage in this place?

Nayobee made sure the little belongings she had were safely secured and that she appeared more or less well groomed and not all beggar-like. She had adopted a reasonable "style" which was both practical and nice without drawing too much attention to herself. Her only vice being a predominantly blue color of her robes which was not as prestine as it used to be an rather worn down but it still was a striking match to her brilliant blue eyes.

What she needed most was some coin to add to her purse if she wanted to survive another week or two. Then she could follow up with her plan to find a free Dalish tribe - maybe they could help her find a new home where she was free of prejudice... maybe it was a bad idea?

The slender woman was slowly getting impatient but forced herself to wait some more until she heard what she wanted to hear - a paying employment.

[AceWildcard]

Djuric was looking out all over this fortress and wonders if the place will even stand. That did not worry him more if it was wise to even deal with the Arl. He had to negotiate an contact with him and his associates. Even so he wonder if that will last. He always make sure his allies are well off in negotiations. He has to make sure their interested are for most in all things.

He was not a large man by any degree, but he was strong looking. He had an tan white skin for being in the sun a good bit of the time. He had grey eyes. He had dark long brown hair and beard. Both were woven in thick dread locks. He had an rugged appearance. He dress in very common everyday clothing, yet also has a sort of flair or attempt on flair to look more important then what he appears to be.

[Clayton the Smith]

"They call me Clayton Silverhands" he said with a cocky smile. Clayton was leaning against the corner of an open-front smith. The sweat on his face was a shining testament to his words. "That's right. I'm a real.. " pausing, he seemed to be contemplating his choice of words "..master of my hammer."

The female elf he seemed to be chatting up giggled at him, struggling to keep the bucket of water she was carrying from spilling as the giggle became a full-out laugh. Claytons smile seemed to grow past his face. She opened her mouth once, looking him up and down, holding her words with indecision. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind. "You best grab that hammer with your silverhands, because ain't no one else gonna do it for you". He kept his smile up as she walked away, laughing the entire way.

Clayton finally let the smile drop when she disappeared from sight. He looked to his right as he heard the familiar ringing of the smith stop and footsteps approach. "You know what they say, Chance. Hate seeing them leave, love watching them go". His voice was playful, matching his green eyes. His hair was short, the strands that were long enough were tied behind his head but the rest lay where it wanted. He wore a leather apron with a wool shirt underneath and a pair of long slacks. There was a satchel at his feet.

The blacksmith, whom Clayton named Chance, eyed him suspiciously and with extreme contempt. "Keep your eyes away from my knife-ears, you scoundrel.. " he said, bearing no apparent love for the younger blacksmith at his figurative doorstep. "And quit callin' me Chance! I've naught shared my name with you because I ain't got respect for someone who don't work! And get the hell off my property before I show you how a real craftsman can easily unmake anyone else’s work." Clayton looked at him, confused. "I mean your life, ya idiot! I'll unmake you! Now go!" The man not named Chance barked. Clayton shrugged, grabbed his pack, and took off down the busy street.

He'd come here to work for the Arl in the ranks, hoping to make some coin with his hammer. Big armies and big fortress always need a good hammer, but it seems the only hammer Arl Neruda of Stenhold needed was one he didn't intend to pay much for. Clayton had balked when he heard the going rate for the services he intended to provide, only to find himself without a backup plan. As luck would have it, the Arl needed other help. Clayton wouldn't be smithing but coin was coin. And this kind of coin was worth not smithing over.

[z-Heln Ironwright]

Heln stared up at the fortress for a few minutes. She wasn’t still sure if this was a good idea, but it was definitely a better idea than going home. And she did need the coin. She was very sure she owed her father quite a bit of money after her fiasco, not to mention whatever Bayer’s father had charged for the breaking of the contract.

Someone bumped into her and the young woman pulled to the side, watching as a group of dwarves ambled past, a plethora of mining equipment on their shoulders. There were no mines in the area, and she wondered a second later if they were perhaps combat engineers in the Arl’s employ. The woman wiped a rain-flattened curl of hair off her forehead and entered the courtyard.

The vendors were jostling one another for a spot not in the rain, complaining about the weather out one side of their mouth while hawking their wares on the other. Heln did stop to exchange a small coin for a sack of apples and pears.

In the courtyard, she found other adventurers. Casually, she leaned against a convenient wagon and watched them covertly. Even as she assessed them, she wondered what they’d made of her. Did they see just a pretty young woman wearing a sword she’d never bloodied in combat? Did they see the worn armor and assume she’d earned its scars and stains instead of stealing it from her older brother’s discarded gear? Did they think she was worthy to be here?

She had no idea. Swallowing back the nerves making butterflies in her stomach, Heln waited for some direction.

[Jaime Lowery]

Xavier patiently waited in the courtyard, to all appearances, but the handsome dark-haired, hazel eyed man had his concerns internally. Once monetary matters had not been a concern. But that seemed so long ago now, in a civilized time quite different from this uncultured backwater. There, his charisma had made him the best diplomat available to Orlais' noble houses- and as long as he satisfied the clients, a lavish, enjoyable lifestyle was his.

And then, he had talked Lady Yelena into his bed. She was the young, fetching wife of a prominent nobleman- nearly thrice her age- but nobody, least of all Xavier had expected trouble unless it became public news- even if Lord Mandrake had found out, to go after Xavier would require admission of the fact, which would be more embarrassment than support. It was the way of many marriage among the upper nobility. When politics served as the basic reason for wedding and the servants conveniently available - liaisons were accepted often as long as the parties involved were discreet.

Servants, unfortunately, tended to talk if they had no personal loyalty or incentive, and thus word had unexpectedly gotten out on the affair. At which point, Mandrake's pride and indeed position - his increased political ambitions relied on his marriage remaining outwardly firm- had been quite scarred, and Xavier was forced to bid his wise and great homeland goodbye.

Denerim was, given the circumstances, the most acceptable substitute in going to Ferelden. But even there, he found, almost too late, Mandrake had merchants indebted to him, and they had seen a quick chance to remove the markers. The assassins that had come for him were handily defeated, but only luck involving a local dog had alerted him in time in the first place.

So he kept going. Now, one day, the woman of a farmstead and her coin he took one day, a tavern wench and gambling the next night. Money had run scarce, for despite his acumen and (for him) enforced thriftiness, more flowed out as in came in. Fortunate that the petty Arl of Stenhold had spread word of special offers, other then outright war. An excellent opportunity.

[z018]

Even by shem standards, this place is a wreck. No wonder the Arl is hiring outside help. Shiral'ven glanced around the courtyard with dismay, I just hope it's worth the time. He hadn't really expected to need coin once he'd left the Tower. Oh, they'd given him a purse, but between the simple practicality of his own people and the carefully controlled environs of the Circle Tower, he'd never handled it before. Which made it little surprise that he was now without and in need of supplies he couldn't produce on his own. He could have headed back to the Tower, but they might not have let him leave again; he'd been in one of the Arling's villages when notice went up for the guard duty, so he'd taken his chances and made his way to the Stenhold.

Looking around, he wondered if he should have risked returning to the Tower instead.

The townspeople ignored him mostly, at first; a few even shouted orders at him when they spotted his ears. The shouts turned to worried whispers when their eyes drifted down to take in his ornately carved staff and dark travelling robes that had the insignia of the Tower embroidered in red and silver over his heart. He'd carved the staff and sewn in the relief of the Tower after on particularly nasty run-in with trio of bandits in the bannorn; they'd recognized him as a mage, but assumed he was some travelling apprentice or such because his clothes were so plain. The one that lived had babbled his apologies the entire way to the closest castle, where Shiral'ven had handed him over to Bann Estan for judgement. The bandit had been hung the next day, or so he'd heard at a tavern a week or so later; if he'd known that he'd have asked the Bann for his boots. His own were leaking and there was nothing worse than wet feet in Fereldan.

He joined the obvious group of sell-swords, wondering how long it would take for them to start edging away and who would move the farthest. He started making bets with himself, a small grin tugging at his lips as he made up the odds.

[Ryoma]

"All of you have come as well, to heed the Arl's call for aid to ward his children back to him?" The tall blond Avvarian warrior beheld the group, and nodded. On the surface it seemed like a motley collection of warriors, but looks were often deceiving, as his former mentor had taught him.

He stood there, shoulder length blond hair wildly falling about his shoulders, a few days growth of a beard covering his jaw, clad in light plate, with bronze arm and shinguards. Clean leathers showed from beneath the armor, and his cape covered the throwing axe readied on his back. In his left hand he carried a massive maul, his preferred weapon. Few things stood to blows from such a weapon, and the exhilaration of smashing down his foes never failed to remind him why this was the path he walked.

He looked at those who would be his compatriots in this, and nodded. "Then let us go to see the Arl, and begin our task, the more time we spend here, the greater chance some other band would take this from us,and that will do nothing to enhance our fortunes."

[jameson (ST)]

"Yes. Yes, I know, I'll handle it!" Off to one side of the courtyard a striking woman in long robes cut a slash through the air with her hand, ending any further conversation between herself and the solider she was talking to. The locals and servants looked up and then quickly got back to minding their business or work. The woman strode across the puddle strewn and mud caked courtyard toward the small group of mercenaries, sell-swords, and adventurers.

The woman was blonde, and carried a staff carved with sigil as that matched those sewn into her dress and robes; symbols marking her as a Mage of the Circle. Mage's made most in Ferelden cautious at best, outright frightened or hostile at work. One could hardly blame them for fear those men and woman gifted and cursed to touch the Fade; men and women who could slip and become an Abomination.

The all but stalked toward the group stopping to examine them each before she sighed, “I am Alenka,” she says bluntly. “Follow me.” Turning without further word she moved deeper into the courtyard, not looking back to see if the group was following or not. A pair of massive wooden doors, wet from the rain, barred the courtyard from the main hall of the keep. With a grunt of effort Alenka shoved one of the doors open, it was clearly swollen from rain leakages and did not move easily. She pushed the door open and then turns back, "Come along, before even more of the damp gets in here."

OOC: OK, time for people's first tests. I need a Perception (Seeing) test from each of you, with a hidden TN (i.e. I am not telling you what a pass or a fail is). All tests are made on 3d6. This test adds your Perception score and, a further +2 for the Seeing Focus if you have it. All tests will be written with this notation so you may see calls for Dexterity (Initiative) or Strength (Climbing). You roll 3d6 add the Attribute and add +2 if you have the Focus listed (otherwise add only the Attribute).

Please also post any reactions to the Mage, Alenka, and the others in your group, etc. Feel free to RP up to the point I have stopped. I'll let people with successful Perception (Seeing) tests know what they see that the others do not.

More info. on dice rolling can be found HERE.

[z018]

Another mage. Wonderful. And she's got such a cheery disposition. Reminds me of my first mentor, only she's not balding and ogling the acolytes. Shiral'ven pushed himself up off the wall he'd been leaning against and followed the irritated shem inside the castle, brushing off as much of the water and bits of mud and straw as he could before being yelled at for ruining a rug or something. Hopefully we won't have to stand around for forever while we wait for them to pick whoever they're going to hire. If I'm not going to make any coin here, I'd rather be headed back to the Tower today. At least there are dry beds there.

Perception Roll

Malachite *rolls* 3d6: 1+3+2+1: 7 First three are the 3D6, 1 is his Perception rating.

[Ryoma]

Ryoma followed along quietly, watching the blonde mage, noting it was far too coincidental that she be there and had overheard him. Still, journey's began with a single step. and just standing around would never accomplish that. Perhaps he was abit too trusting, but it wasn't often a mage took time to speak to one such as him.

Perception

Long6 *rolls* 3d6: 2+4+1+1: 8

[Long6] 1:16 pm: "I say looks like I failed that spot check."

[Nayobee]

The slender woman in her blue-brownish weatherworn robes waited for the other Adventurers before she followed making sure she was the last in line. She felt more comfortable being as far away as possible from the circle Mage. Her eyes watched the procession keenly always ready to make a hasty retreat should she walk into a trap. Her other soon-to-be companions were given a brief glance at most although she hesitated for a moment when she saw the Elven Circle Mage.

I shouldn't have come... but I need the money badly.

Joani *rolls* 3d6: 3+5+4+2: 14

[jameson] 8:38 pm: huzzah!

[Jaime Lowery]

Interesting... Xavier considered as he followed the irate blonde mage. Something has her riled up, and it could be a concern if something unpleasant is going on.

OOC

My Perception (Seeing) Roll:

Jeremy *rolls* 3d6: 2+6+2+2: 12

[z-Heln Ironwright]

Heln had been leaning against a wagon, eyeing the elves with distaste. She didn’t hate them, but in the rural farmcountry she’d been born in, they were unfamiliar, save for the Dalish. They were pests; they would steal eggs, chickens and even babies. They were thieves who claimed to give fortunes, but were shysters who’d rob you blind. Of course, those were the heathen Dalish; she’d heard that city elves were just gutless near-slaves. And one of them was a mage. Mages made her uncomfortable and though she’d never seen one, everyone knew what they looked like. She’d never seen an elven one before.

Heln shifted slightly as the second mage came near them; this time her discomfort was not entirely from the doubling of the mage-number. Licking her lips, Heln pushed off the wagon and followed. With effort, she kept her eyes up and off the woman’s ass. Of course, that meant that she was staring at the woman’s bare shoulders, wondering if her skin was really as smooth as it looked. The woman’s bad attitude was easily attributed to the rain, wet and coming war.

Perception Roll

Carver Soze *rolls* 3d6: 4+5+2+1: 12

Carver Soze waits for someone to say something about her roll. Please.

[Kamiko] 5:32 pm: Witnessed

[AceWildcard]

roll

3+1+2+1:7

Djuric did not say anything. What was there to say at the moment. The female was nice looking, nothing fancy. He just follow with the group for now.

[jameson (ST)]

Alenka moves inside, leaving the door for one of the two lightly armored house guards standing inside to close. She watches the group come through for a moment before continuing down the main hall. "This way please, the Arl is in the armory being fitted out to ride to battle." She leads the others halfway down the long hall and to a room tucked off to one side between rising columns.

Inside the armory a short, stocky man stands in the center of the room, being fitted into a suit of gleaming plate armor by elves with downcast eyes. He looks over in irritation when you enter, then grunts in pain and spins back to cuff one of the elves in the head, pinched by the greave the servant was fitting. The elf sprawls. This must be Arl Neruda.

He turns back to the group giving them a cursory glance before looking to Alenka, “Well?”

"These men an women have come to your call my Arl," Alenka says while gesturing to the assembled adventurers. The servants, mostly elves, continue to armor the Arl, avoiding all eye contact and being doubly certain to not repeat the mistake made by the unfortunate elf working the man's greaves, his eye already blackening. Alenka pauses to allow each person to introduce themselves and say their piece.

OOC: Three of you passed the Perception (Seeing) test (TN 9) and have been PMed. The rest of you may post freely to introduce yourselves to the Arl. Xavier, Heln, and Nayobee will be given the go ahead to post once we four have everything sorted between them.

[z-Heln Ironwright]

As they were entering the main hall, Heln’s eyes – succumbing to the pull of Alenka’s ass – dropped just in time to see a coin drop from Alenka’s robes. Even as others noticed and perhaps prepared to grab, Heln called, “Alenka, you dropped a coin.”

As the mage turned back, Heln stepped forward and picked up the coin. No one else had gone for it, now that Heln had pointed it out, and the woman was able to drop the gold coin into the blonde woman’s hand without trouble. “Well, well,” Alenka said with a wry smile, “one never expects honorable mercenaries. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Heln felt a slight flush on her face. It had never even occurred to her to keep the coin. It wasn’t hers, and she would have returned it to anyone, pretty blonde mages or even an elf.

Well… maybe not an elf. She might have taken that to the church, since it was likely an elf would have stolen a coin of that value.

Her good deed for the day done, Heln was silent as she followed Alenka into the armory. She was a little taken aback by the Arl. She’d thought he’d be… larger. Arls are just men, like you. What did you expect, a knight from tales? Heln wisely didn’t remark on how much real life had disappointed her. When Alenka gave them a moment to speak, Heln bowed politely and said, “Arl Neruda, I am Heln Ironwright. It is an honor to meet you.” Her mother’s maiden name had just popped out of her mouth, surprising her a bit. She couldn’t use her family name, certainly, not unless she wanted to be found. Ironwright would do.

[Nayobee]

Nayobee quickly retracted her hand which was already prepared to snatch the fallen coin and the slender Elf faked a stumble instead apologizing sheepishly for her clumsiness. She was glad her hood covered most of her face because it was hard for her to hide her disappointment in missing this opportunity to make some easy money. That Mercenary woman probably did this for adventure instead of survival while Nayobee had to struggle to find her next resting place and most importantly food. That coin would've given her at least a season to live on, maybe even longer if she spent it wisely.

Cursing under her breath she proceeded to follow the group of ragtag adventurers hoping that their pay would be worth their troubles. Most likely not, though so she prepared herself mentally to make some extra money when the opportunity arose...

The young elven maid was still lamenting the loss of having missed this opportunity and her mind was already fantasizing what she could've done with that gold coin that she almost forgot to introduce herself to the Arl. She found herself suddenly the center of attention which she actually wanted to avoid and didn't know what to do at first. Her head slowly bowed when she realized that she was still wearing the hood and the rest of her robe did well to hide her features so that no one could tell her gender.

Any doubt was clearly pushed aside when she removed the hood and made an elegant curtsey, "My name is Nayobee Firandiel... at your service.", she glanced briefly sideways to Shiral'ven and rejoined the group standing proudly tall. Her long blonde hair was woven into an intricate patterned braid and was the only sign she was not just a beggar challenging her luck.

[Jaime Lowery]

Xavier, though his eyes were raking the mage, caught the sight of the coin that had spilled down. Immediately, he was thinking of how best to snatch it without observation- given his situation, honor and manners be damned- and the Orlesian nobility tended to say the same thing when decorum was an inconvenience. So he had no qualms, except the hooded elf had already begun to move and to disguise her actions when the dark-haired Fereldan woman unhesitatingly spoke to Alenka.

The woman was clearly a simple peasant or craftsman. The people would just ignorantly pass up what was needed. Xavier did turn his gaze to the knife-ears and winked, implying he would have done the same thing as she. Elf yes, and Xavier still didn't care for them, but given the depths he'd been dropped- he'd been forced to at least be able to work with elves on occasion.

When presented to the Arl, Xavior simply bowed to him in a courtly manner. "Xavier Camron, at your service."

[z018]

Shiral'ven gave the dark-haired shem a second appraisal, internally agreeing with Alenka's observation about mercenaries. Well, if I have to have one of them at my back, I'll take her so far. At least she probably won't let me get killed for a larger share of whatever this arl is going to offer us.

The Arl himself was....less than impressive. Over his years in the Circle, Shiral'ven had come to understand why shems covered themselves in metal like dwarves hiding in the rock, but it still never seemed a fair trade for a quick blade and a clan at your back. Then again, shems seemed just as ready to kill one another as the Dalish or anyone else they didn't understand or that didn't bend knee to the 'splendor of Andraste and the Maker'. His hand tightened around the staff at the black eye of one of the elves, and the tell-tale faded marks and scars of previous injuries on anyone unlucky enough to need to be that close to the shem lordling. No one should be treated so carelessly or cruelly - not even shems or the elves too stupid to leave the cities and join their people. But he was one elf, and a mage at that. Making a scene would get him kicked out, at best, and locked up until templars could arrive to behead him for touching a hair on a precious lord's head at worst. Oh, they said templars could only kill a mage if he'd broken the laws regarding the use magic, but that wasn't how the world worked; and it wasn't like they'd come to his defense if the lord ordered him hung for punching him, either.

So he swallowed his anger, as he had for year upon year, and reminded himself why he was here: coin, supplies, and eventually, home. So caught in his personal drama, he nearly missed Nayobee's revelation as she pulled back her hood; his heart leaped for a moment, then drooped in disappointment upon hearing the non-Dalish name. Ah, well, at least she's not grovelling at the foot of some shem.

He nodded his head to the Arl, not nearly impressive enough with the shem to actually bow to him and said quietly, "Shiral'ven of the Circle of Fereldan." The name was most definitely not Fereldan, and the rounded, flowing cant to his tone marked him even more as no common city elf of the nation; nor as an Orlesian immigrant, at least to Xavier, who would know the difference.

[Ryoma]

Ryoma nodded to the Arl about the most respect one could expect from an Avvaran, the nod of one warrior to another. "I am Ryoma, of Avaar. Long have my people been renowned for our skill in military arts, I continue that tradition. It is said you have need of a strong arm to shield those important to you. I would provide that service."

[AceWildcard]

Djuric felt very unimpress with the Arl. Yet he did not care frankly with being chatty with people above his station. For the most part, they only bring you trouble. The only use is their coins. Even so he had an task to do. More then one to be percise.

He bow, but only to due to tradition sake and to not offend their host. He still view that he had hope to talk with the Arl at a latter time and work on the task he original was here for. There was an contract that needed to be renogiated and he view doing this job as a step to both help him and his employers out. "My name is Djuric of Ozammar. I hope that we may speak more after this is all said and done if you so wish." he said in a respect tone.

[jameson (ST)]

"Yes, yes, fine these will do Alenka." The Arl's hand cut a swath through the air as he stepped away from the elves who had finished buckling on his armor. They scurried away to the edges of the room as the Arl moved to a large table with an equally large map splayed across it.

"My children are returning from Denerim, and Alenka is due to meet them," he began as he leaned over the map, reviewing the placement of small flags and tokens. "I had planned to send her with a retainer of my guards but I cannot." He looked over at the motley crew of adventurers, "My lands are being encroached upon by darkspawn, here," he stabbed a finger at a section of the map with many flags. "I need every warrior I have to combat the threat."

He moved his finger, northward and eastward towards the King's Road, and stabbed at a spot on the map, "You will accompany Alenka here to meet my children, and then return her and the children safely here. I’ll pay 50 silver pieces to each of you for the service of two days or less." He waited while the inspected the map. The location was a good twenty miles out, a full day's travel on foot, with the majority of the way passing along a forest road. Two days would be possible, but hardly easy, and if anything slowed them it sounded like the Arl wouldn't pay. After a moment the Arl straightened up and turned to them, "Well?”

OOC: Feel free to RP freely here, both with the Arl & Alenka, and among yourselves. I'll reply as often as I can if questions are directed to the NPCs. If anybody wants to attempt something requiring a roll I will let you know (or roll for you to keep the flow going).

[AceWildcard]

"Are there any geographical area or marking they would stop at to wait for us?" Djuric asked as he examines the map.

[jameson (ST)]

"You'll cross these hills and join the King's Road, Alkena knows the way, their carriage will be on the road and then you will escort them back through the hills and forest here to Stenhold." The Arl's voice was brusque, irritated at having to explain what he likely considered obvious. "Alenka and my children must return safely." He whistled and an elf rushed forward with a sword belt and busily buckled it around the Arl's waist.

[AceWildcard]

"Yes Sir." Djuric said respectfully. He felt annoyed for trying to make sure of where they were to meet as precise as possible.

[Nayobee]

Nayobee watched the Elf servant trying to hide her... disgust. She quickly faked interest in the map the Arl had lain out and inclined her head to the side to get a better view of it. "Is anyone acquainted with the area?", she genuinely asked turning a little to her pro-temp fellows. "Travelling on official Roads invites... danger.", she added calmly brushing off some of the dust from her robe which had thanks to the rain reacquired a semi mud-like quality.

"Horses would be nice."

[Ryoma]

"They would shorten the time greatly, but would also be an added responsibility, as well as something I doubt we are likely to get." He looked at the Arl. "Though I imagine your children won't be traveling on foot, even if their escorts are."

"It's possible to make this time, but we would need to leave soon."

[jameson (ST)]

"I'm sure you can buy horses from one of the local farms if you like. I've none I can spare," the Arl said. "And yes, I expect you'll need to leave at first light, or immediately if you have means and wish to camp for the night on the way. The children will be waiting with the coach on the King's Road, they will walk back with you and Alenka."

Arl Neruda walked to the wall and grabbed a steel kite shield from a rack, the exterior showed his coat of arms, and was scratched and dented from prior use. "If you have any other questions make them quick, my army rides soon to defend this land from the darkspawn."

[z-Heln Ironwright]

"We should get going then." Heln's voice was brisk as she straightened slightly. No horses, and all that distance to travel? They'd need to move quickly to finish the job on time. Heln wasn't worried about succeeding; she never worried about that and just dealt with any failure if it arose. Often, approaching with an attitude of victory, she'd did succeed anyway. "Alenka?" The mage turned to look at her and Heln forced what she hoped was a normal smile. "Could you leave tonight, right now?"

[z018]

He hasn't horses or coin for the farmer's horses himself? Is he a beggar lord? Shiral'ven's lips thinned into a line as he fought off a sneer for the arrogant shem.

"How old are your children, arl?" he asked evenly, doing his best to keep his disgust out of his voice. "If they are young, then walking will be too slow for two days unless you intend them to arrive exhausted and ill. Horses for their use, at least, would help ensure their safe and timely return."

[jameson (ST)]

"My children will be fine. This is not the first time that they have made this journey." The Arl smirked, "Or does your desire for horses stem from your own dainty little feet knife ears?" He didn't add a comment about his being a mage, but Shiral'ven could tell that the man was holding back, probably because his own steward was a mage.

Alenka stepped in before things could possibly get worse, "The children are fully capable of making the walk. We should get prepared and leave within the hour, otherwise we wait until first light." She nodded to Heln as she finished, "All the better to leave today if possible. The craftsmen in the courtyard can sell you any supplies you may need or desire before we go. I suggest that we meet at the gates in one hour."

She looked at them, "Assuming that you wish to take this job?"

[Nayobee]

"Aye, I'm up for it.", the elven... scoundrel(?) confirmed still more absorbed with her robe than what the Arl replied to Shiral'ven. The Arl's unvoiced implications didn't escape her attention and she decided to comment on it once an opportune moment passed by. For now she would just make sure she was getting more than her fair share of the profits.

"Since I wasn't planning on staying here longer I am not disinclined to leave at once."

[AceWildcard]

Djuric had enought of the place also. He figure the man did not want them here, especially paticular members of the group. "I am up to the task. Lets get going as soon as possible, Question, are we going by foot or horse?" he asked.

[z-Heln Ironwright]

"Let us discuss outside. The Arl has given this to us, he doesn't need to be bothered with the planning." Heln dipped her head one last time to the short man before she turned and headed out of the room. In the hallway, she waited until they were all there before she asked, "Djuric, do you have enough coin for horses for all? If not, then I believe we will be walking." Heln rather doubted it; she didn't think anyone would take this job unless they needed the money. "Besides," she added as she clapped him on the back, "walking is good for clearing the head and raising the spirits."

[Ryoma]

"Good for the the body as well." Ryoma nodded. His concerns had been for the children, with the Arl's assurances, those were removed. "I can leave whenever it is decided to go, I have no pressing needs here.

[AceWildcard]

"To be honest, I was hoping to walk. Give me time to know the others in our group. I need some time to think as well." He said. He did not want to give out any info about money since that was something they had no need of knowing unless need be.

[Nayobee]

"Splendid, we're taking a walk...", Nayobee proclaimed with a faux cheerful voice. "It's not like I've been hiking through the woods for the last fortnight but alas, what we'll do for some precious coin... and of course the children.", if she was trying to hide sarcasm in her voice she failed miserably.

The young elf pulled up her hood again covering her ears and thus assuming her semi-disguise. "So should any attackers come on horseback, what's our plan?"

[z018]

His lips twitched into a grin as he followed after the others and listened in on the conversation, "Take their horses?"

[Nayobee]

"Ha!", Nayobee laughed at Shiral'ven's pragmatic suggestion. "First reasonable idea I heard today, aside from going outside to 'talk'", she stressed the word talk specifically.

"Now seriously - we run away from the Darkspawn to the north to fetch the Arl's children and bring them back here? If I was their mother I would sent them away..."