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And so it came to pass that Tavolous, Filius Davanta Ex Miscellanea passed into his final twilight; he was the last surviving Magus of the great Covenant of Pedn An Laaz, whispered to be the greatest covenant in all the British Isles. For 50 years it has stood empty, abandoned; it’s resources scattered to the winds and off limits for scavenging by Quaesitorial decree until the last lawful member of the Covenant had past.

The Tribunal to decide which Covenant had rights to claim the lost riches of the once grand Covenant was a fierce battlefield. For three days and nights arguments consumed the gathered Magi as each lobbied for their Covenant and why they should have rights to the fallen Covenant of Pedn An Laaz until finally the head Quaesitor, said to be a man of great vision and one of the wisest Magi in all the order, put a stop to the arguments and fighting with his unusual ruling.

This Quaesitor, Iradellus, ruled that since no Covenant would concede the rights to another, that Pedn An Laaz should be re-founded, only those within 3 seasons of their Aprentice’s Gauntlet shall be eligible to be a founding member, and only one such candidate could come from any given Covenant. Arrangements were made and mid-winter of 1219 the first of the covenfolk were bound for Pedn An Laaz.

----------

Spring 1220 (March 8)

Andrew Beckett paced the tavern’s common room in impatience. He was not known for his patience. He was a slight Englishman with fair skin and dark hair. He had the countenance and mannerisms of an educated man and it was obvious his hands had seen little in the way of manual labor. He walked with a severe limp; supposedly a wolf had attacked him when he was a child.

It had cost quite a bit of silver and quite a bit more convincing on Andrew’s part to get innkeeper to rent the entire building for the evening but he felt it best to meet his future employers here, in Pensans, where he could appraise them of what actually awaited them at the Covenant before they got there. If they were like the Magi at Five Oaks they wouldn’t like any surprises.

He look around the common room and watched the four English axe men roll the bones at one of the tables with the three porters he’d also brought from the Covenant while their commander, Louis, watched at the window and one of the former bandits chatted up the innkeeper who stood behind his bar. Andrew had allowed the men to have a drink but if it took too much longer they would want to continue drinking and he didn’t want that. He hoped the Magi would get here soon.

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The sun hung low in the sky as Victor rode up on the tavern the directions he had been given at Spatha Obscuris had taken him to.

"[Damn, I hope this is the place...]" He muttered in Bulgarian under his breath.

Bulgarian had not gotten him very far in these lands, so he felt comfortable with vulgar parlance in it.

Looking to his long-suffering guide he attempted, "Sunk yough," with appropriate cordiality. He hoped the smile and grateful look would convey his feelings better than his 3rd-hand English.

Victor looked for a stable, or better yet, a stable-hand.

((new at this. please forgiving me. Guide spot left open if Rorx wants to use John the Hook here, if not, can NPC a goob.))

((Edited for SURPRISE! NO BULGARIAN UNICODE!))

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John nodded to the foreign Mage, and after dismounting started to lead the horses towards the stable around the other side of the building. It had been several years ago, but he had been here before, although then he had been one of around 50 men accompanying his knight to France. At the stables John waves Victor down off his mount as he ties the reins to the door handle and calls inside in his native Cornish [denoted by {c}].

{c}Hey there, anyone to help, or must a poor traveller fend for himself?{c}

After a brief pause a boy of about 9 years appears, and peers cautiously up at the armoured figure of John and Victor. {c}Sorry to keep you your honour, but we aren't properly open today. Some englishman has rented the place.{c}

John smiles as he looks down on the lad, {c}That's alright lad, we're expected. Now I'll help you get the saddles off these two and the pack saddle off that one, then you'll need to give them a good rub down, oats and water. {c}

So saying the boy opens the stable door wide as John leads the animals in and quickly gets the saddles of them and the horses into some of the few remaining stalls. Warning the boy not to interfere with them he leaves the saddles and packs in the saddlery and leads Victor back to the door of the tavern. Having seen the men in the bar through the window John opens the door and waves Victor in first, but takes the time to check the axe on his belt loop before entering himself, his bow stave in it's waxeb bag on his left hand.

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The young Cornish Mage slowly made his way down the country lane, enjoying the freshness of the spring afternoon despite the heavy frame pack he bore. The tavern he'd been told to meet members of the Covenant at appeared around a bend on the lightly wooded lane and he wondered at the possible quality of the cider. It had been hard to get a decent cider in Glastonbury, and so he had become accustomed to the ale there, but he still hankered after the cider of his childhood memories.

Approaching the Inn he spies a couple of men dismounting, and one leads their three horses out of sight, presumably to the stable. The other robed man, no doubt a fellow mage, looks slightly lost or contemplating something while his companion deals with the horses. Not wanting to discuss business outside Micheal makes straight for the door of the inn, leaning slightly on his bagged bowstave as though a walking staff, his sword bouncing slightly at his side. Through the window he spots the various people inside the bar, and nods to the few looking out of the window.

He enters the bar, immediately followed by the other Mage, and turns to put the frame pack down in a corner near the door.

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The room got quiet as everyone turned to appraise the newcomers. Andrew stopped pacing and immediately limped over to the new arrivals and in heavily accented Latin said {L}"Greetings and welcome. I am Andrew, the acting autocrat for Pedn An Laaz. We have food and drink, and there is a room prepared if you would prefer to rest until the others get here."{L}

He paused a moment, waiting for recognition before repeating himself in English to make sure both men equally understood him. Whether or not the use of multiple languages in this situation annoyed or perturbed the youngish looking man, he showed no irritation and simply waited for their response. The rest of the folk in the common room had yet to go back to what they were doing.

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Victor acquiesced quietly as John took his horse towards the side building. He had been lucky to find a companion both skilled and patient. If only he spoke a language Victor understood.

Interpreting John's words a bit late, Victor turned to enter the building first, only to find another was already entering.

{L}"Time is a fluctuant thing,"{L} he remarked to himself as he stepped quickly to join the obviously gifted young man entering the Tavern, muttering a silent prayer that someone in there spoke Latin.

As he swept into the door behind the Cornish magi, he was greeted with,

{L}"Greetings and welcome. I am Andrew, the acting autocrat for Pedn An Laaz. We have food and drink, and there is a room prepared if you would prefer to rest until the others get here."{L}

{B}"Thank god."{B} he said quietly, appraising the hobbled man. Scholar, permanent injury, weak hands. Then he repeated himself in one of the island's languages.

{L}"Latin is preferable, thank you," Victor stated, pulling the hood of his robe back. The glint of polished scales of leather that take light like polished steel were visible at his collar, underneath his dusty robe.

"I am Victor, fillius Trophaeus, follower of Tremere," He said methodically. "Thank you for the hospitality." {L}

Victor looked quickly about the room, apprising himself of the assembled covenfolk, and the Cornish Mage Next to him.

((Perception+Profession soldier 3 I assume is enough to tell Victor that he's a fighting mage, if not that he's a Flambeau.))

Victor offered the mage next to him his hand-shake with a cordial smile.

{L}"Fellow."{L} he offered, in perhaps an overly frank gesture. Victor was armored, bore his house symbol at his collar, had a horseman's axe hanging at his hip, with no visible effects of the gift, Perhaps looking more warrior than mage.

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Michael straightend up and nodded to Andrew, "Latin would be fine, thank you. I'm known as Micheal Goodman, a member of House Flambeau, trained at Glastonbury."

Taking a step further into the bar he takes Victor's offered hand, "Well met Victor." Although obviously one of the Gifted, Micheal is wearing normal leather trews and jerkin over a linen shirt. However, a sword hangs at his belt and a bagged bowstave leans against a frame pack, which obviously carries some books, in the corner near the door.

Hearing the door behind him, Micheal steps to one side to give the new arrival more room and sees a forester enter the room. He could be little else with his scarred face, leather armoured broad chest, bagged bowstave, and axe on his hip.

{c}Who's in charge here?{c} the forester says, and Micheal looks around to Andrew, finding only a blank look.

Following Micheal's look the forester turns his attention to Andrew and says in halting English {E}Are you in charge here? I've travelled with Victor from London, where I was the archery teacher. I will also be staying at the new Covenant. I'm known as John Hook."

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Victor nods as Michael finishes.

"While I have not spoken with the man, I can vouch for his skills as archer and teacher, and his English Longbow might as well be a catapult,"

Then, after a brief moment,

"I suppose complex introductions can wait. I understand Pedanan Las was a bit contested. How many Magi are we expecting, Autocrat?"

As an afterthought, Victor stepped into the room.

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Andrew nodded and in English he addressed the woodsman. {E}"I am responsible for managing the mundane affairs of the Covenant. Good the meet you Mr. err, Hook? If you would please talk with Louis there," He motions to the guard by the window. "He is in charge of the Grogs for this journey and will be better able to put your abilities to good use."{E}

He turned mack to the two Magi and switched to Latin. {L} Please gentlemen, follow me and I will explain what I can for the moment,"{L} He led the two men to a room whose original purpose seemed to be a store room but which had been cleared out. A small table with several chairs replaced whatever had previously occupied the room, turning it into a makeshift meeting room. {L}Relax here, I will have some wine and food brought to you, and will retun momentarily. Oh forgive me; in answer to you question sir, I was not given exact numbers but I believe at least 2 or 3 more magi will be joining you. They should be here soon."{L}

He left the small room and moments later a plain looking young woman brought a jug of wine with 2 mugs. She stepped out of the room and reappeared almost instantly with 2 bowls of steaming stew. She never met either men's eyes and seemed anxious to get out of the roon as quickly as possible. The wine was cheap but passible and the stew, while hardy looking, seemed to lack any meat.

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Micheal followed Andrew into the back room and sat at the table without further comment. He looked disappointed when the wine arrived, and called after the girl as she quickly left stew, {c}Could I have a pint of cider please?{c}

Turning back to Victor he explained, "I was born only a couple of days ride from here, and have missed the cider I rarely got hold of while a child. They only had ale, or wine of course, up at Glastonbury where I trained."

Micheal tries a little of the stew before addressing Victor again, "So where do you hale from, I don't recognise your accent."

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John approaches the person indicated as Louis, {e}Well, you heard my name I guess. I can use this axe, ride, look after horses, track and hunt, and beat any man here with the bow. Is there aught else you'd care to know?{e}

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Victor raised a thick eyebrow incredulously at the stew. With a shrug, he turned, removed his outer traveling robe, and set it on a nearby barrel.

"It's a bit of a long story. Coeris, in Bulgaria. I don't suppose you get a lot of Tremere around here."

Victor's mind wandered a bit.

"As I recall, we put a lot of blood into this land as a house. It's a shame to see us so poorly represented. Though, Speaking of poorly represented, It would appear that the squabble over Pend... Pentan... *cough* Excuse me. The land's end covenant is entirely unjustified. All the better, I suppose." Victor said, sitting down pouring himself some cheap wine.

"I suppose at least this way, we won't have to worry much about bandits."

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As the mages chatted in their private room a monk entered the tavern's common room, or so one would be forgiven for thinking at first. What looked a lot like a monk's featureless hooded brown cassock turned out to be something more like a poncho however, belted at the waist but open at the sides for the arms. The hood hides the individual's face, and sleeves of coarse knit wool and gloves of leather mean that details of his or her...the poncho made gender indeterminate...appearance are entirely unknown to the casual observer. The sense of unease that ripples around that figure though clearly marks whoever it is as one who has the gift of commanding the fundaments of reality; a magi.

As Andrew hurries up, a slightly husky woman's voice asks in English, with a hard-to-place accent, "I am Sahra. I am here to meet the rest of the Covenant."

With that she tilts her head up a bit and lifts the hem of her hood just enough for Andrew to see the glitter of her strange yellow eyes in the shadows within.

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Andrew was taken aback for a moment as the Maga revealed her eyes. After a moment he realized he was holding his breath and exhaled before saying to the the woman {L}"Good day m'lady. I am Andrew, the acting Autocrat of Pedn An Laaz. Two of the others have already arrived, we have food and drink available. Please follow me."{L}

The grogs and covenfolk shifted uneasily as she passed but continued to play their game. Apparently they were familiar with the unease The Gift caused; however the innkeeper and his family vanished to the kitchen shortly after the arrival of the first Magus and had yet to reappear save for the plain young serving girl shifting from one foot to the other in from of the storage door, a pitcher in her hand.

Silently, Andrew took the pitcher from the girl's hands and dismissed her with a nod of her head. He opened the door and motioned the woman in, stepping in behind her. {L}"This is Sahra" He announced. "....errr, I'm sorry I don't know your House or lineage m'lady..."{L} he trailed off.

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Victor looked up from the table a little before the door opened, smiling up at the new arrival.

He took on a whistful look, thinking back to a time when he knew most of the eastern quarter of the Order of Hermes magi by name, and looking over the new arival, wondered if he knew Sahra's teacher's teacher.

Seeing that the new arival was a lady in any case, Victor stood and pulled out a chair for her.

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Once in the room with the other mages, Sahra pulled her hood back entirely. Her skin is the color of dark caramel, or molasses, and her hair is midnight black and pulled into a bun at the back of her neck. Her features are quite pretty in a foreign exotic sort of way, and she looks surprisingly young for one who's passed apprenticeship.

"Ex Miscellenea," she replies, switching from lightly accented English to lightly accented Latin with apparent ease. "I came from the Lincoln covenant."

Unlike most of the other mages in the room, Sahra carried neither weapon nor armor to protect herself with. If this made her nervous, she showed no sign.

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Lincoln? Victor thought, looking a bit perplexed.That sounds like a Stonehenge covenant. Saracens in Brittan?

He willed himself to soften his expression. The world is new, and full of changes he had not been privy to, and regardless, he was in the presence of a lady.

"I'm Victor, of Tremere." He offered. "The wine is thin, but drinkable, or if you prefer, Master Michael is having some of the local flavor. Perhaps in that container our Autocrat holds." Victor's Bulgarian accent was a bit thick, especially for one so accustomed to covenant life.

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Victor cocked a half smile.

"I'm afraid muto-magic may be our best option on either of those in this area. But perhaps things have changed since I was here last."

"In either case, If you are allowed to discuss it with outsiders, It would interest me to know of your magical tradition. When last I was in Stonehenge, The Miscelania house was just getting it's feet wet, and now they are Block-voting in Blackthorne."

As he spoke, he began a subtle-gestured formulaic magnitude 1 spell.

"I hope no one minds if I adjust this stew a bit.

"Taste of Spices and Herbs." he said, making a few slight arcane gestures at his lackluster soup-bowl. With a sudden and sharp shift, the steam off the bowl snaps around like a snake and begins to spiral up in a reversed direction.

((-Taste of Spices & Herbs (MuIm 5, touch, sun, ind) a settings worth of meal tastes as designated. in this case, a spicy gourmet soup, with a stout meaty baise. Casting Total 8+D10-2 for subtle gestures. He gets it without rolling. Further, enduring magic will make the taste keep for D10 suns. Not that it'll matter in this case.

(17:46:07) ChatBot: (Saintbomber) rolls 1d10 and gets 1.

Normally that'd be pretty great, but I can't imagine this is a stressed roll.))

Victor inhaled the resulting aroma with satisfaction.

"It's a spell that comes in very handy in the field."

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Micheal took the pitcher of cider from Andrew with his thanks and poured as Victor and the female mage spoke. He looked on with interest as Victor 'enhanced' his meal and took a sip of his cider before speaking.

"Welcome to Cornwall then Sahra, I'm known as Micheal Goodman, of House Flambeau and until recently I resided at Glastonbury. As for drinks, they would probably have cow's milk, and may have goats, but I wouldn't trust the water without a means to purify it. Although that is perhaps more true in the towns than a place like this that may have it's own well."

He turns to Victor, "An interesting spell, and of a Form I have yet to study. Perhaps when time allows you might consider tutoring me in the art of Imaginem, in exchange for assistance in kind of course?"

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Victor's face twitched in response, briefly, into something unpleasant, then back towards a half-smile. "My insights into that particular Ars is hardy worth teaching, Micheal." He looked up at him from under his considerable black eyebrows. "But I wouldn't mind trying your arm in Certamen once we've settled down."

While the look was not intended to be predatory, there is perhaps something in every Tremere that glows within when the topic of Certamen is raised.

"Perhaps we can decide on the best labs that way."

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Sahra watched Victor's display with a hint of disapproval playing about her lips. "You're very cavalier in your use of the Gift here," she noted.

Then she looked at Andrew, "Please inquire about milk? Or even some kind of juice. Just nothing with alcohol in it."

She took a seat at the table and started peeling the gloves off of her hands.

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Andrew allowed Michael to take the jug of cider from him and backed silently into a corner to remain out of the way. If the use of magic disturbed him, it didn't show; it was rapidly dawning on the magi assembled that Andrew was well used to Magi and The Gift. At Sahra's request he nodded and excused himself.

---

In the common room, Louis appraised the archer before him. {E}"A woodsman's skills will come in handy. The Coventant is very close to forestland. I'm sure the Wizards will appreciate a little more meat on their plates."{E} He said with a smile in fluent English. "Come, meet the men."

Louis led John over to the Grogs covenfolk, allowing the man to make his own introductions. John could see that while the men were relaxed and enjoying their dice game, their weapons were still within easy reach. Louis spoke up again "Relax and get something to eat if you are hungry. If you'd like to get some rest we have a room you can use. I think we are staying here for the night and heading back home in the morning."

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John looked over Louis and the men appraisingly, trying to compare them to the grogs he had know in London and the men he had gone to France with.

In his halting English he replied to Louis, {E}As long as it's on Covenant or common lands I'll be happy to help. I don't want to be mistaken for a common poacher after all.{E}

He walked over with Louis to the men, and nodded to each of them in turn before getting a jack of cider from the bar. Returning to their table(s) he sat down after finding somewhere close at hand to lean his bowstave.

{C}Any of you Cornish by any chance?{C}

He sighs at the blank looks and continues in English {E}SO you lot come together, or are you from a number of Covenants as well?Do you train in any particular weapons, or just what you've got?{E}

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Micheal laughed at Victor's obvious eagerness for Certamen, "No need to fight with me about the best labs. I have little use for them. A lot of my magic is based around the elemental forms, and I find I need to be near sources of those elements to work."

He takes another sip of his cider, "If you still wish to try your arms, then I would willing to take you up on it once things are more settled at the Covenant."

"And how about you Sahra, are you familiar with the practise of Certamain?"

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Victor nodded approvingly, taking care to swallow his suddenly delicious stew before speaking.

"I assure you there is no intended malice," he said, touching up his cleverly groomed beard with a handkerchief.

"I've been out of touch for quite some time, however, and I'm eager to see how modern certamen has changed since I last had the opportunity to test my hand at it." As he spoke, he flexed his brown-gloved hand, then took another spoonful of the aromatic and savory stew before him, looking up at Sahra as he ate, curious to her answer, but also with an appraising look over her.

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Sahra nodded once. "I was instructed in the basics of the contest," she answered. "Though I have not practiced it. We had other ways of resolving disputes at the covenant I was apprenticed at."

Her Latin had a certain stilted, overly formal, feel to it...the sort of slightly archaic intonation that would result from learning the language from a staid old teacher using musty old books. Only her slight foreign accent broke from that mold.

She gave Victor an inscrutable look.

"You said you were of Tremere. The history of your House is fascinating to me. Perhaps we may discuss it some time. I apologize for sidestepping your question about my magical tradition. I began to use magic before being introduced to the Order, though in only a limited way. My master chose to encourage my...individual take on magical theory rather than to break me of it." A ghostly smile played about her lips.

"As such, my magic is...unusual...by Hermetic standards, though I have taken the oath and joined the Order. There were magi in Lincoln who viewed this as evidence I was a 'hedge wizard.'" Her liquid gold eyes bored unblinking into Victor's, gauging his reaction to this news.

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Victor considered her statement over stew as she spoke, Hedge Wizard.

Hedge Wizard.

Victor tried not to judge, but it was not easy. individual take on magic theory. Unusual, but not unique. hubris would not be a Diedne magician's first bluff to a Tremere, right? No, it is probably just the way she said it was.

Victor broke eye contact, with a Roman magus' layer of complexity on his face as he finished his thoughts.

I would love to test her resolve, but it would be impolite to Micheal to engage her here, and there would be plenty of time later. We'll leave it for now.

Click to reveal..
(16:08:41) (Saintbomber): Communication 2 + Etiquitte 1 +1D10

(16:08:48) ChatBot: (Saintbomber) rolls 1d10 and gets 9.

I would prefer not to be deeply read into unless this total (12) is beaten with a folk-ken roll.

"There will be time for us to speak on matters of history, I suspect."

"So what brings you to P... Lands end?" Victor asked, Micheal and Sahra, careful not to mispronounce their soon to be covenant's name?

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The young rouge that was still near the bar, nursing an ale alone perked up when John spoke Celtic but Louis spoke up before he could say anything. {E}"We train primarily with axes and spears, shields, and longbows"{E} He said. {E}"We Grogs are all from the Covenant of Five Oaks near Lincoln, but many of the covenfolk are from several of the local communities."{E}

Before more could be said the door swung open and a handsome man wearing a fine linen robe of pale blue, tied with a gold cord at his waist, steped into the common room. He carried a solid oaken staff and a quiver-like device attached to his belt that seemed to be filled with sticks rather and arrows. A traveller's pack was slung over his shoulder. He looked around the room and then spoke in fluent Celtic. {C}"My name is Caligus. I believe I am to meet representatives of the covenant of Pedn An Laaz here."{C} He waited a moment before repeating himself in broken English.

Louis sent one of the porters to fetch Andrew from the kitchen who appeared with a pitcher in one hand and two bowls of steaming stew in the other. He smiled warmly at the new arrival, despite the effects of The Gift. {L}"Welcome,"{L} He said. {L}"My name is Andrew Beckett and I am the acting Autocrat of the covenant. Please come with me, the others are already here."{L}

Caligus entered the small store room ahead ofthe Autocrat, his presence bringing the conversation to a halt. "Forgive my intrusion," he said in Latin, I am Caligus, Filius Medicatus, Follow Ex Miscellanea," He said, introducing himself. The new arrival took a seat and Andrew placed the jug of milk with the others while placing a bowl of stew in front of Sahra and Caligus.

"I'm not sure if we will have any more arrivals tonight," Andrew said. "So after you've had a chance to eat I will give the briefing on the current state of the Covenant."

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Victor parsed the Autocrat's statement, wondering how bad it was.

"Well-met Caligus, I am Victor, fillius Trophaeus, of House Tremere," he said.

Victor's eyes stopped over the quiver of sticks at Caligus' side and considered, It would seem the old tricks haven't changed much, It would seem that we have our herbam man, and if I'm right, he fancies himself a bit of a scrapper, too. Interesting. Moreover, he and his master both use latin suffix.

"When did your line join the order, if you don't mind me asking?"

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Micheal had several spoonfulls of his stew as Victor started to question the new arrival. He tries to divert Victor's line of questioning with one of his own.

"Welcome Caligus, the stew isn't great, but it's bearable. I'm known as Micheal by the way. Micheal Goodman, a member of House Flambeau, recently gauntleted at Glastonbury."

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John nodded to Louis as he outlined thier weapons training, {E}I better with staff than spear, but otherwise no problem. Perhaps I show some of you people some tricks with axe and bow if you want.{E}

He had been about to reply to the wealthy looking Mage when he spoke again in English and Louis jumped in, but then it was more his place to do than John's. {E}You guys been here long time then?{E}

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Caligus smiled at the two men and nodded while he took his seat. "A pleasure to meet you both," He said before turning to address Victor's question. "That is a strangely personal question to someone you just met. However I shall do my best to answer. The truch is at I don't really know. My Parens was more concerned with seeing that I perfect my magic and spells tan he was in giving me history lessons on the roots of an old pagan tradition of magic."

His lips turned up in a wry smile and there was a mirthful twinkle in his violet eyes; he gave the impression that he was more amused than offended my the question. "Have I answered satisfactorily?"

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Victor didn't look particularly amused.

"I see it as no more personal then Tremere joining the order as the last of Trianoma's founders." he stated.

Victor chewed on the information as he did his meal, maintaining a polite neutral, if anything, enjoying the food, then, "I suppose you have."

Victor quietly processed the situation.

Two True lineages walk into a bar, followed by two recent conversions, one with bundle of sticks, the other with saracen vows, both with mysterious eyes.

...eyes...

Faerie eyes?

Victor grew a bit dark, considering his own situation, then smiled a bit.

"Yes, I believe you have answered my question. For another, I see you've got some Herbam under your belt, what magic would it be that you are perfecting?"

Then, after a half-beat, "As a sodial, I am mearly curious. My own area of expertise lies in the golden cup, iron sword, and at the edges of horses hooves."

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Louis took a swig of his ale before answering. "If you are as good with the bow as you say, I'm sure Felix will be happy to put you to work as a trainer," He said. "I'm sure our bowyer will want to talk with you too."

"We've been at this new Covenant since last fall. It's not too bad really. With some more work it will actually be pretty comfortable," he continued. "I'm hoping the Wizards will see fit to hire more Grogs but we've been managing so far."

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"Horses," Sahra murmured to herself. The stew was rich and tasty, but Victor's words brought back memories of hunting. Horses were hard prey; fast and dangerous, but every one was a feast of meat. A clever pride could cut one off from the herd, then surround and harry it to exhaustion. And then...

She sighed wistfully.

"I miss horses."

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Michael looks over to her, slightly bemused by her tone, "Yes, I miss the riding I did as a boy. Although I don't miss having to muck them out!"

He turns to Victor, "I gather that you rode in from London, so you must be one of those whose presence doesn't disturb, at least animals, as most of us Magi do?"

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