Shaala

The paladin obviously looks suprised at the sight of a drow elf but quickly hides it with a cocky smirk and raised eyebrow.

"Well,we don't see many of your kind around here.I am Rhys,paladin of Lathander.The High Mornlord dispatched me to seek out the bounty hunters in the various taverns and inns.I happened to notice you on my way to the Dancing Satyr.To continue though,The High Mornlord  wishes a meeting with the bounty hunters in the morning.Are you willing,Lady..."

He pauses,silently requesting your name.

 

Torbin

 Before  Kordy is able to recount events since your departure the door opens.A half-elf with dark hair dressed in the armour of a Lathanderite paladin enters.

 Dead silence falls.

The half-elf shifts slightly before bringing out a scroll and quietly pinning it to a post.

He departs without saying a word.

The bartender,huffing indignantly,walks out behind the bar to study the scroll.Out loud he reads:

"All those who seek the bounty on the head of the traitorous paladin Cassia Searle are asked to meet with the High Mornlord,Meldrick Elchanan,tomorrow morning at the temple of Lathander.The terms of the bounty and other details will be discussed then."

The blond gnome huffs before ripping the scroll off the post.He makes to throw in the fire all the while muttering about paladins and their arrogance. 

 

---

Ever so slowly I slip into the depths of madness...

A Week Before...

Algernon stood within the doorway of his room, pondering the growing situation before him; not only the very pleasant idea of having work again, but also the truth which could be found in utilizing his own abilities.  That and money - as much as Algernon would like to believe, it was still necessary for him to follow the more mortal aspects of living, such as eating and breathing, his own strive to achieve enlightenment was merely a choice which remained seperate than the choice to continue forward - or were they the same under a closer look?  According to popular thought, yeah, they would be very similar, as not only does a man have to live and work, but also to strive for something great, a duality which would create greater opportunity for...

He cut off his own train of thoughts before he gazed at the letter in his hand, the careful calligraphy which annointed the envelope, the eloquently phrased invitation to the temple, as well as the gruesome crime which had been committed only recently.  It would definitely be a good idea to move toward the goal of finding the murderer... and yet... would it?  Before that train of thought set sail Algernon's reverie was interupted by the simple movement from the shadows, his psicrystal standing up from it's location  beside the bed in order to approach the pondering Psion.  It's thoughts merged with Algernon as it gazed upon him, and Algernon shifted focus to allow the telepathic communication to begin.

"What are you going to do Algernon, this could prove useful!  I think you should go."

"You would merely tag along, you wouldn't have to deal with the actual interaction."

"Interaction is good for you."

"So is burning things... that can be fun too, doesn't mean it's acceptable to society, much akin to how I am greeted by most people, a huge person with crystaline skin."

"Well, you would make friends better if you went and helped people for often."

"You're always pressing me to be the hero, if only you could do that by yourself so I'd have some peace and quiet."

"You won't be getting it anytime soon unless you go."

A quick shift in gaze allowed Algernon to notice the people watching him from their own doors, which hastily closed before he could make any attempt to respond.  Not that he had planned on it, just that they were afraid he would, and as such reacted.  Without a thought to his own concern he sighed verbally, and went back into his room, grabbing his backpack and putting it across his shoulders, leaning over slightly for the psicrystal whom he had dubbed Esk to climb up on his shoulder in order to be safe from other people's machinations.

He didn't require another word as he left the room, shutting the door behind him as he went downstairs and paid up his tab, again looking about the cluttered, dirty, somewhat grimy and slimy place he had stayed in, happy to be leaving it sooner rather than later, and again considered his options, at least before Esk kicked him slightly on the ear, interupting his reverie once again.  It didn't take another word from the psicrystal to get Algernon moving, he merely put his mind to it and started to walk out of the Inn itself and begin down the path toward the city - it hadn't been a long time, and he was in the area... but it would still be a bit of a walk getting there... something which Esk wouldn't have to deal with - walking.

-------

Current Time

It took a bit of time to reach the city, and as he began his approach he took note of the terrain, of the multitudes of people who passed, as well as the different types of people who did take notice of him, before quickly adjusting their gaze and their paths so that they did not intersect with the large bulky Maenad.  All of these adjustments were noted, but while Algernon took note of those things, Esk took note of the city before him.

"Look! People!  Guards!  Look at it all!"

"Why is this so interesting to you?"

"Well, I like people a bit more than you do."

"That's because most people consider you to be beautiful."

With that the psicrystal hopped off Algernon's shoulders, growing little legs and walking around - his appearance making him out to be this small little crystal gnome with wings, which waddled about without a care, until it ran into a person who was being careless, who shrieked and decided to take a swing at the psicrystal.  Tried, because it was attempt quickly thwarted by Algernon.

"Excuse him, he's my pet."

The abrubt sound of Algernon's deep voice stayed the hand of the stranger, whom merely looked at the two and muttered something about stupid tourists before running off on his own travels away from the city, and as Esk hastily hopped back on Algernon's shoulder once again, and Algernon finally reached the gate, where the fueding guards continued something of an argument as he appeared before him.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Isn't it obvious?  It's a person stupid."

"Yeah, I know that, but well, he has a weird crystal sitting on his shoulder... DEAR GOD IT MOVED! HALT!"

"He's probably just a golem, he must be a mage or something."

With that Esk decided it was a good idea to open his mouth and start speaking in Common before the two guards, finding it a bit rude that the two of them had begun to speak about him without his introduction.

"Hi! I'm Esk and he's Algernon.  Say hello Algernon!"

Sighing, Algernon, spoke up slightly in order to appease Esk's personality.

"Hello."

"Well, anyway, he's different than most people, he and I are a team!  The best team I say, the best Psionic fighting team around!"

"Ah, see, that answers the first question, he isn't a mage, he's a Psion.  He's dangerous."

"No he isn't, you can come in now."

The second time in a so few days, the door's magically controlled status allowed quick opening, for the entry of Esk and his partner into town.

"So, Temple of Lathander, where is it?" Esk asked.

"Second stone building past the first intersection, or is it the third stone building past the first intersection?"
"Not this again..."

Not even stopping their movement toward the temple, Esk merely continued to focus on their goal, starting to hum a strange tune as Algernon merely put him out of his mind as he focused on the upcoming Temple.

---

"... if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for Destruction Ice is also great
And would suffice."
- Robert Frost

Updated my post on the pervious page, just letting people know incase it was missed.

"No Lady, just Shaala. I'll be there." She replied with an guileless smile that seemed to take years off her face. "Thank you."

The dark elf turned and walked down the streets toward the library. This might well be her last night in Tiber, and there had been and absolutely fascinating volume on Drow she had been meaning to read. Information on "her kind" was few and far between, and a whole book on them- well, that was absolute treasure. Shaala had never been to the underdark, nor had she ever even seen another drow. She knew little about them beyond whispers and rumors. About her specific heritage, she knew even less. Shaala's mother, whoever she was, rest her soul, had been above ground- near as Shaala could tell from her reading, Drow rarely ventured above grorund unless they were exiled. She had been pregnant and alone. This she knew from Ellia, the old woman who had raised her. Her mother had been captured by hobgoblins and put to work as a slave in spite of her condition. She had spoken little to the other slaves, and she had died giving birth, leaving Shaala in Ellia's care. Then, about ten years later, Ellia died. It was really phenomenal she had lasted as long as she did- in the mines, the food was poor, the conditions cramped and unsanitary, and Ellia was not a young woman. Shaala, still a small child, was left to fend for herself. The other slaves regarded her with pity, both because of her miserable situation, and because no one really expected her to survive.

But I did. She thought silently as she continued her trek to the library. More or less. They hadn't hated her for the color of her skin, there. Even if it was true that all drow were evil, it didn't particularly matter since they all knew she wasn't one. Not really. Not in all ways that mattered. Not in her heart or her head, only in body. And her physical attributes- dark skin, an ability to see in almost total darkness inheirited from a race that had evolved in caves not unlike the mines. Sometimes, the others told her stories about the surface. But not often. It depressed them too much, thinking of what they had lost. And during the "day"- that is, when everyone was working and no one was sleeping- work in the mines was hard and exhausting, but mind numbing and dull. Breaking rocks off the cavern walls. Breaking big rocks into smaller rocks. Breaking smaller rocks into gravel. Moving gravel from point A to point B. Rhereg, a dwarf, told her that the rocks were iron ore, and the gravel was most likely taken off for smelting. And so it went. Every day for three quarters of a century.

And finally, she had escaped. Finding the way to the surface too well guarded, she instead ran deeper into the natural warrens in which the hobgoblins had built their mine, thinking it would be easier to sccratch a living of her own in the darkness than to liive as a slave. And it had. Edible moss and fungi grew in the caves (and some not so edible, she had discovered with some expiramentation.) and strange, blind fish swam in undergound lakes. And then one day, the earth shook, collapsing the was back to the mines. And opening a new way to the surface.

Suddenly, Shaala was jolted from her reveire as someone knocked her to the ground. Rolling, to one side, she cursed herself for letting her guard down. An ale-slurred voice rasped "Give us yer purse, and I'll letchya go." as a knife pressed against her throat. Feigning fear in her voice, she stuttered "J-just let me up, so I can r-reach it. P-please, I don't want any trouble." The grizzled theif leered at her as she got to her feet. Shaala hung her head as she fumbled with something beneath he cloak. When her hand reappeared, she held not her purse, but a foot long wrench. Twirling it in her long, slender fingers like a baton, she struck him once, twice, three times. Chest, stomach and head. Down, definately for a while.

"Some people." She said, and continued on her way.

---

I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.

Alright,we should be getting to the actual meeting soon.folks.

Algernon

 As you make your way to the temple of Lathander,you can't help but feel slightly impressed.The church's graceful arcs dominates the skyline of Tiber,the rain and the mists of the Morning Waters give it an almost etheral look.The most noticable feature of the building's architecture is the nearly twenty foot tall stained-glass window depicting the Morning Lord's symbol,a bejewled rising sun.

  Approaching the stairs to church's doors,you see a venerable old priest carrying stacks of scrolls up the stairs.He loses his footing and drops the load with a rather unpriestly curse.You reach him just as he finishes clearing up the mess,muttering all the while about how all the rain was going to ruin his work.He squints at you nearsightedly and,in a voice hoarse with age,asks,"Well,what do you want?"

 

---

Ever so slowly I slip into the depths of madness...

Quick as only a small psycrystal could be, the nimble psicrystal grabbed the envelope from Algernon's hands, waving it in the air as he jumped up and down on Algernon's shoulder, that is, at least, until he was slapped down by the somewhat irritated Algernon, being stopped mid-cheer.  But Esk quickly recovered, looking at the person and bowing deeply, being as cute as possible as Algernon merely sighed and waited for Esk to tell the man why they were here.

"We're here to help find the killer!  See the envelope?"

Algernon, knowing that letting his psicrystal speak for him all the time would end badly for him in this situation, decided to take a page out of Esk's book and talk for once, his somewhat gruff appearance being solidified by his likewise gruff voice.

"Yes, we were contacted to find the killer, and that letter should have the details."

Then he waited, deciding to let Esk handle most of the details, seemingly delegating the tasks to his Psicrystal when in reality he was merely unwilling to lose something of his inner calm to continue a conversation; it was always hard for Algernon to find his voice, unless it concerned fire.

---

"... if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for Destruction Ice is also great
And would suffice."
- Robert Frost

The next morning, about half an hour before dawn.

Shaala sighed miserably. She was cold, wet and she had forgotten to eat again. Shaala was so used to hunger that it was often a while before she noticed it, and as such she sometimes skipped meals for up to two days, because it simply didn't occurr to her to eat something.

The book on Drow had been a complete waste of time. The same old rumors, combined with a collection of ancedotal tales from spurious sources more akin to childrens tales than anything useful. And nervous about this whole business, she had been unable to get any sleep. So she stood in front of the temple of Lathander, unsure if she should wait another half hour until dawn, when the paladin had told her to be there, or go in now. She decided to go in. Dammit, at least it was dry in there.

---

I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.

Yeah I left off at a point where it can easily be said that he just goes to sleep if nothing else happens. I'm ready for the following morning as soon as everyone else finds their beds.

Rutgar grasped the thick leather wrapped metal shaft that made up the handle of his sword and drew the fist sized wet stone down the blade.

 

Shhhhkt.

 

He had gotten up an hour or so before sunrise; sitting on the bed in his room he looked out the small window which afforded him a view suitable enough to see the faintly lightening sky.

 

Shhhhkt.

 

The priests would be starting their prayers soon, afterwards the meeting would start.

 

Shhhhkt.

 

He scraped the stone one last time and stuffed it back into his pack, thumbing the blade he nodded at his work before sliding it back into it’s sheath which he then strapped to his side, this was soon joined by it’s twin dagger, then the whip neatly hung at his thigh, the net was folded and readied on the back of his belt for immediate use, the bolas hung from his side near the sword, quiver of crossbow bolts strapped to the right leg, spear and man catcher crossed at his back over his cloak, on top of this was his pack which supported the heavy crank operated crossbow and an additional quiver of bolts. In various locations where hidden a selection of poisons and drugs for quick and subtle application and even a set of lock picks cunningly disguised as a necklace, you never knew what you would need on a job so Rutgar mad sure he was always prepared.

 

The sun was just cresting the tops of the buildings; he could hear the bells of the church ringing and faintly the chanting prayers of the faithful. He placed his hand on the wall for support as he leaned forward and peered out the window, the tower of the temple was visible. He shook his head and headed out of his room, down the steps, and through the empty common room. Pulling up his hood he opened the door and headed out into the chill morning air, the meeting would be starting soon; best not to be late.

   Dragging his eyelids open, Torbin groaned as the first faint light of morning was creeping in through the shutters, and he came to the annoying realization that he had somewhere to be this morning. His was fully shaken from his sleep by what sounded like an enormous woodpecker, emanating from somewhere on the other side of the moderately sized room he had rented for the night. Sitting up and trying to get the feeling of sand out his eyes, Torbin glanced around in the dim light. Thanks to his keen senses, he was able to make pretty much everything in the room, even with as little light as there was. The door was on one side, opposite the small window. There was a bedside table with an unlit candle, and small trunk next to that for the storing of personal items. Then there was the simple padded armchair, across which, Kordy was precariously draped and unconscious. Her head hung over the front of the chair just above the floor, her legs dangled over one of the chairs armrests, and her arms appeared to be tucked underneath her, somehow.

   Throwing off the sheet, Torbin shook his head as he quietly padded over to his sleeping friend, then lifted her gently from her perch and lay her down in the warm bed he had just vacated. Once she was sufficiently tucked in, Torbin pulled on his shirt and then his boots, and then gathered his belongings and quietly exited the room. Quickly, but quietly, Torbin hurried down the small staircase that led to the lobby of the "Twisted Ferret". There he found an elderly halfling women sitting behind a desk, reading a small leather bound book. At Torbin's entrance, she glanced up and put the book down, and brushing some of her graying hair from her face smiled pleasantly at him.

   "Leaving so early Master Torbin? I hope the accommodations were satisfactory."

   Torbin smiled back at the innkeeper. "They most certainly were. It was quite a pleasure to sleep in a bed again. It's just that I have some pending business to attend to, and Lathandrites love to do everything first thing in the morning." Setting his bag down by the desk, Torbin crossed over to where his cloak was still hanging by the fireplace, which now contained only barely glowing embers. Pulling from the hook, he twirled it about, then pulled it tight across his neck and shoulders and then fastened it in place. Walking back over to the innkeeper, he pulled another two silver pieces from his coin purse, and lay them on the desk in front of her. "My friend upstairs had bit much of the strong stuff last night, and may need the room for a few more hours as she recuperates. Also, if possible, could you deliver a pitcher of ice water and a plate of fresh fruit to her door in say two hours? Just tell her I sent it." The innkeeper took the coins, and assured him that it would be done as he asked.

   Stepping out into the brisk morning air, Torbin was pleased to find that rain had managed to wash away most of the offending smells that a city has to offer, and its place leave a quiet, cool morning, and the smell of fresh water. Starting down the road, Torbin followed Kordy's directions from last night, hoping that she hadn't been inebriated by the time she gave them to him. The streets were strangely quiet, but not empty. Shop keepers and various vendors were coming out to set up for the day. Laying out goods, setting up signs, and the various other tasks that owning a shop entails. One sound that did catch Torbin's attention was the rhythmic beat of metal on metal, somewhere in the distance. Unless he was mistaken, it had to be a smith of some sorts. Perhaps later he could stop by and get some touch up work done on his shirt of chain.

   Repositioning his pack, which was now filled with not only his blankets and other outdoorsman gear, but also his chain shirt, as well as a re-supply of fresh bread, dried meats, and well cured cheese. All of which meant he go that much longer on the road without having to resort his trail rations. Even gnomes who liked the dry, salty, and sometimes chalky flavor that many attribute to gnomish cuisine, didn't like trail rations. The most common complaint being that they all taste like parchment. Torbin himself had never thought to taste a piece of parchment to test the theory, but needless to say, the fact that he even considered the prospect of doing so said something about just how bad trail rations were.

   Rounding a corner into a wide open square, Torbin was shaken from his thoughts by the blinding light of the sun breaking over the eastern horizon. Turning back to his right, he saw an enormous building that in design alone practically yelled that it was a temple. With the addition of the holy symbol of Lathandar, set out in stained glass, set into its front made it quite obvious to whom the temple was dedicated. From within, Torbin could just make out the first chords of what seemed to be a chorus of singers, coming from somewhere within the temple. Well. They'll obviously be a while. I'm pretty sure I smelled a bakery somewhere down that last street. I'll just grab something to munch on until their done, besides this High Mornlord-drite-whosit is probably busy with their morning singing thing anyways. And with that, Torbin turned on heels, and went in search of freshly baked goods.

---

"Apparently getting your ass kicked is now part of a complete breakfast." - Roy Greenhilt, Order Of The Stick


- An Answerer of questions, and Questioner of answers.

I going to skip ahead  to the meeting,kay?

 

Everyone

 As you enter the temple one by one you are led by a cleric away from the temple proper to the living area of Lathander's Faithful.Clerics and paladins walk by you on various errands and while some give a friendly wave and acknowlement,you can't help but notice that more often it's suspcious glances they send your way.

 Finally,after climbing stairs to the upper floors,the cleric opens the door to what appears to be a waiting room albeit an oppulant waiting room.Standing in there you see a group of about five men also waiting,rough and brawny-looking.The leader appears to be the one with cropped gey hair and carrying a nicked great axe.He sneers at you,a long,ragged scar down the side of his face enhancing the look.

 The cleric,who shifts uncomfortablely,bows and says the High Mornlord will be with you shortly.He quickly leaves,shutting the large oak door behind him with a soft thud.

 

 

---

Ever so slowly I slip into the depths of madness...

As soon as the cleric shut the door, Shaala began to pace, occasisionally shooting nervous glances at the men from beneath her hood. She felt distictly out of place in this fancy room.

---

I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.

Rutgar ignores the men and walks into the room, forgoing a chair he chooses to stand.

 

Feeling the comfortable temperature of the room he decides to pull back the hood of his cloak, his snarling visage clear to the room as he leans against the wall arms crossed over his broad chest.

Rutgar and Shaala

 The grey-haired man stares at Rutgar for a long moment before recognition flickers in his eyes.His drawling voice practically drips with pride and arrogance.

"I've heard of you.You're Rutgar Bloodfang.You're said to be one of the best.Well this should be interesting.Two of the best bounty hunters in the land competing for the same prize.Celdric Fellaxe is the name and these are my men," he gestures with a callused hand at his fellows.

---

Ever so slowly I slip into the depths of madness...

His bestial eyes slide over the group slowly with an appraising inspection before returning to the leader. He nods in confirmation, “Yeah, that’s me; can’t say I’ve heard of you though.” He states flatly.

At the sight of the hobgoblin, Shaala stopped pacing and backed up discretly into a corner,  sticking close to the walls as if trying to make herself disappear

---

I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.