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Lady Tam

The Kingdom of Mordant

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The dwarf stares at the pseudo-dragon for a moment or two.

 

"They've got big rats 'round here."  He hefts his axe.  "Perhaps I'll help them clean the place up."  He takes a step toward it, but is stopped in his tracks by the questions from the lute-toting human.

 

"You're kidding, right?"  He turns to face him, but keeps his axe in ready position.  "Because I'd hate for you to be saying anything bad about my mother."

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"I say, Reg and Mr. Short," Archibald doesn't declare, "That's no way to speak to anyone, much less one such as I.  The king didn't mention having to work with the apostate in this mission.  Oh dear oh dear oh dear..."

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About this time the door opens and two guards enter. They move to either side if the door and stand at attention. They are followed by a middle aged man dresses in fine robes. His short neatly timed brown hair is peppered with gray, as is his equally well-kept beard. He is talking to a young man with in a chain shirt, upon entering he gestures for the young man to take a seat as his eyes look at the group assembled before him. Smiling he moves to stand before you all. “Greetings, I am Castellan Lebbick, for those that don’t already know me.” His eye flicker towards the young bard “You are probably wondering why you have all been summoned.” He smiles and holds up a hand to forestall any question “The King,” he continues,  “is in need of your services. Three years ago silver was discovered in Dhurla’s pass. Since then many people have gone to the town to seek their fortune and Dhurla’s pass has become a prosperous mining town. The King wants to see if the town is worth taxing and how open minded the people are to being reminded they have King. You have all been chosen for your individual talents and abilities for this task, and your King would appreciate your help in this. It is however, not a command to go, but a request. If you chose to go you will be outfitted for your trip by the King. Mounts and provisions will be supplied by the King for this mission, as well some spending money. “ He pauses and looks over the group again. “I can give you some time to think it over but not a lot. We are heading into Fall and the King would like to see this resolved before the snow flies.”

 

(OCC I brought in minipainter’s character, but will leave the actual description of him to minipainter. You can also ask some questions, but don’t get too far ahead of me! I may make some “brief replies as needed before Wednesday post.)

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"Well Castelain, speaking for myself I am wondering why you would need such adventurers as myself, and I believe these others are to undertake such an easy mission. Is it not the task of the royal tax collectors to assess a township for tax purposes?" Reg askes quietly while looking the castelain in the eyes.

 

"There must be more to the mission if us seven are required to fulfill it? I would like to hear more before we begin." Reg folds his long legs into a lotus position.

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"Master Castelain Lebbick, Sir. It would be my great pleasure to serve the King in this matter, Sir!"

 

"Umm, good sir dwarf, I am sure the King's children would be most forlorn if bereft of their pet, I mean, benevolent and divine Psuedodragon."

 

Smiling, he adds for the Psuedodragon's benefit "Who could mistake such a noble creature for a rat? No, I am certain that Goodsir Dwarf was astounded by the ABSENCE of giant rats in this castle, due, one expects, to the Divine Prescence of Archibald, and that this was all a.... misunderstanding..." He looks meaningfully at the dwarf. The last thing anyone here needs is to upset the king's children...

 

"ANd, I'm ALSO SURE that the talented Mr Lucius was in fact only asking to be enlightened, and not in the sense that rending his limbs from him would make him several pounds lighter either, Sir. Perhaps you should show him mercy this once, Sir, and educate his intellect rather than his hide."

 

King's pet, Kings proposed emmissary, I wonder would he also swing at the King this fast? Must be tactful here...

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Archibald smiles benevolently.  Those nearby see a sudden image of those who mock the great one being severely bitten on the appointed day of reckoning.

 

"Nevertheless, I shall go on this mission.  I have had a most difficult time getting others to do my proselytizing for me."

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Dymitri hurriedly enters the castle, still in awe of it's immense size.  He presents his "invitation" to the guard at the gate, and asks directions to the meeting place.  The guard obliges, and also remarks that he had better hurry, or he will be late.  Dymitri thanks the guard and moves across the courtyard at a jog.

 As he moves through the corridor, he bumps in to a middle-aged man in fine robes who comes around a corner.  "Excuse me, sir." he says, catching the man so he does not fall over.

 "It is my first time here, and I am late for a meeting."  

 The man smiles and asks, "What meeting is that, son?"

 Dymitri presents his "invitation" to the man, who smiles, and says, "I am heading there myself, would you walk with me?"

 Greatful for the help Dymitri accepts the man's invitation, thinking all the while,  "If I enter with this gentleman, I will not look so late."

 As they walk he man says, "So, I see your last name is Sarchoff, I once knew a Stephan Sarchoff.  Is he any relation to you?"

 Dumbfounded, Dymitri replies, "Yes, sir, Stepan Sarchoff is my father."

 The man stops and looks the boy over, "I should have known, you look very much like your father.  How is he?"

 "He is doing well, thank you."  Dymitri replies, "Sir, how do you know my father?"

 The man smiles, "He was under my command in an elite unit known as "The Furies" years ago, during the second Goblin War.  He was an excellent fighter, and comrade in arms.", the man reminices, then looks hard at the boy.  "Is that your father's Chain?"

 Dymitri looks to his right hip, and the well oiled spiked chain coiled there.  "Why yes sir, it is." he replies as they approach a door guarded by two soldiers.

 The soldiers pop to attentions, open the door, and precede the man and Dymitri.  They take positions on either side of the door and stand at attention.  Dymitri looks at the man, and finally realizes who he has been talking with, he stammers, "Y Y You're Castellan Lebbick?"

 The man smiles broadly, and says, "Yes, I am.  I would like to talk with you further, perhaps later, and also see how well your father trained you with the chain.  Now, take a seat so we can get started."

 Wide-eyed, and with a bow, Dymitri does as instructed.  He quickly surveys the room, acknowledges the people present, finds a seat and sits, slumping somewhat to hide his embarrassment.

 Dymitri is Human, 5' 10" tall with a stocky medium build.  His hair is jet black and cut very close, with a soul patch on his chin, his eyes are medium blue, and his skin is tan.  He has 2 silver earrings in his left ear.  He wears a loose white cotton tunic over a chain shirt, brown doeskin breeches and sturdy  boots.  At his belt is the afore mentioned spiked chain on his right hip, and 2 belt pouches, one a little forward on his left hip, and the other at his back.  

:blush:

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The dwarf looks from the pseudo-dragon to Reg, and then towards the Castellan.  He shakes his head slightly again and lowers his axe.

 

"As much as I hate to agree with the tall one, I must.  Why do you need us to check on yer taxes?  If yer so keen to tax these folks, why don't you send yer tax collectors and a pile of soldiers, if you expect trouble?"

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As the Castellan speaks, Dymitri's embarrassment subsides.  He listens intently to the Lord-Governor's "request".  He thinks to himself, "There must be something more covert about this "mission"."

But, before he can pose a question, a voice from across the room asks basically what he was thinking.  Dymitri looks around for the disembodied voice, doing so he sits up in his chair and finally sees where the voice came from...a man, who is seated on the floor, asked the question.  Dymitri looks at him, and wonders, "why is he on the floor?"

But, before the Castellan can reply, an Elf, near the head of the table, nearly supplicates voicing his approval of the "mission", and fealty to the King.  Then proceeds to chastise a surly looking Dwarf, with a large axe, about the difference between rats and pseudo-dragons.

"What is this all about?", Dymitri thinks to himself.  But, before

he looks away, the answer climbs on to the table.  The pseudo-dragon in question.  Dymitri is astonished, and in awe, he has only heard stories, but to actually see a dragon-kin.  This was worth the trip itself.  Then the strangest thing happens, the pseudo-dragon "smiles" and conjures up visions of itself biting people.  Then it speaks, but doesn't, and agrees to accept the "mission".  The experience makes Dymitri's brain itch.  Thinking to himself, and now realizing the dragon will be accompanying the party, he makes a mental note, "Don't get on the dragon's bad side."

 

 :oh:

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(OOC: Very well, Froschmeister, I shall amend my post from the third paragraph.)

"What's this all about?", Dymitri thinks to himself.  Then as the Elf finishes his oration, something strange happens.  Dymitri hears a voice in his head, but not through his ears.  He looks around as the haughty, better-then-tho, voice acknowledges the Elf's oration and also accepts the "mission" saying,  

 "I have had a most difficult time getting others to do my proselytizing for me."

 Whatever that is supposed to mean.  The experience makes Dymitri's brain itch.

 Still looking for the speaker, Dymitri follows the Elf's gaze and looks under the table.  And, there on the floor is the pseudo-dragon in question.  Dymitri is astonished, and in awe, he has only heard stories, but to actually see a dragon-kin.  This was worth the trip itself.

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Castellan Lebbick nods at the question “You are correct in guessing that there is more involved than ‘assessing’ a town for taxes. A few months ago, well actully closer to 8 I think,  Lord Balfour’s son Marcin went to the pass to seek his fortune. He had been writing his father about how well things have been going there. It was his initial letters that peeked the King’s interest in what was going on up there. About a month ago the letters ceased to arrive.” Here Lebbick pauses “I am sure you can see the problem here. To send up troops could imply that the King is putting the town under some sort or ‘martial’ law, which the King has no desire to do. But Lord Balfour is an important man, he sits on the King’s Council. To not look into his missing son could cause problems. And with the increase of humanoid raiders on our boarders to the north and east, we do not need a council divided. So the King decided to send a small group of able body ‘adventurers to go to Dhurla’s Pass and see what is going on. The decision to send you as representatives of the King was the King’s idea. He felt it would afford some protection. You were all chosen either because of your skills or you were recommended for the job.”

 

LT

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Not Marcin! i have speant many summer days hunting groues in the prairies and fields with him. Why on earth would he dissapear?! Lucius can no longer hold in his angst until Castlelon is finished. He suddenly bursts out in flowery speach. "My name is Lucius Fairwind, a bard of little repute, (ooc: I don't know if I did that right, I meant to say i'm not that famious.) and I have sworn to follow these edicts in my grand quest for riches: I shall accept any challange of which I deem myself worthy. I shall offer challenges of my own should I be greviously slighted-I shall not resort to steel for spilled ale, but should any man or woman belittle me or ridicule me in public, they shall taste my blade. No matter how grim my situation or how ill my temper, I shall always be ready for song or a poem for those that may catch my eye. I swear moreover to never break the heart of any man or women. Verbal witticism is prefered to steel, and thus any insult to myself shall be returned in kind until the cad acknowledges my mastery of the spoken word. Any man or woman who impunges on the honor of my comrads shall taste my blade without benifit of a true challange" For you Marcin!

Lucius finishes off his elegent proclamination with a tear in his eye and a bow to the castellon with an ellegant flourish of his white half cloak.

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Reg shakes his head at Lucius's proclamation. "why is it everyone wants to spout drivel, is there any normal people here?" He mutters to himself.

 

"Okay Castellan Lebbick that all sounds reasonable and within my capabilities so I'm in. Do you have a drawing or picture of Marcin for us to identify him, and is there a token of the kings by which we can sollicit aid if needed, and by which Marcin can identify us?" Reg says in a clear firm voice.

 

Reg also wonders what use a pompous footstool, a teary eyed bard and an infatuated paladin could be on this mission. Ah well he thinks to himself shrugging his shoulders, the fates can be fickle.

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