City of Felarin, Raven Isle, Kingdom of Ertain

Felarin is a city of magic and wonder, a prosperous city filled with shops dealing with magical components and wares, shrines to almost every deity, and the only school of magic in Ertain. The city contains the massive Library of Felarin which is considered to be an unequaled gem for knowledge and learning. The library contains many rare works and it’s agents constantly scour the world of Audalis for other rare and unknown works to bring back to the library.

The party, which consists of: Archan Bladesman the warrior, Maithias Crowmarhte (Crow) the Pathfinder, Merril Lechance aka The Crimson Rose the Bounty Hunter, Lambert Vaughan a Priest of Merca, Alana the Mage & Nadya the Gypsy; found themselves relaxing for the last 2 weeks in Felarin after completing a job for a Merchant who was based in Felarin. It had been a simple caravan guard job which had brought them here to the City and paid them moderately well.

During their ‘vacation’ they had all sort of gone their separate ways, finding their own enjoyment and fulfillment. After two weeks they were starting to get bored and were once again yearning for the excitement of adventure, it having been almost a month since any real excitement had occurred.

That morning, Alana, the mage, was having a meager breakfast at the Inn of Broken Sorrow, a small place in the older and poorer part of the City, when a man entered and looked around the room. His gaze settled on her and he approached her and stopped before her table.

“Excuse me Lady Alana?” He asked.

When she looked up she would see he was a young man, he wore robes and she could see the crest of the Library of Felarin upon his breast. After she responded, he held out a scroll for her.

“Lord Tremain, Chief Librarian of Felarin requests you and your groups presence at the Library this evening at 6pm.”

Once she took the scroll and read it, containing only a written, more formal request of that which he had already told her, he awaited her answer then bowed slightly and turning left the Inn


Later that same day
Alana had sent out messengers to hunt down all of the members of this little group and finally they had all arrived at the Inn of Broken Sorrow and were gathered at a table in the back. Over a few drinks they briefly discussed what the Library could want with their group. In the end, they agreed to at least go and find out what the Chief Librarian wanted with them; who knew it just might be exciting.


Library of Felarin - 6pm
They arrived at the Library’s doors as they heard the bells of the Library tower chime out the 6 o’clock hour. The door opened promptly before the last bell had been rung; a simple robed clerk met them and taking in their appearance he smiled and bowed to them.

“You are expected,” he said then stepped back, “please enter.”

Once they entered he closed the door and turned and guided them through the courtyard of the Library. The Library was surrounded by a wall, meant more for decoration and to keep out the average wanderer; it wasn’t high enough to have kept out an army or even a determined thief. The Library itself was huge; at least 4 stories rose above them all intricately carved stone with large windows on every floor. They were lead up the steps into large doors through which many other robed figures were moving back and forth, many carrying books and scrolls sometimes by the armful.

Inside they see a large atrium filled with people, some just passing through like their group, others were stopped and engaged in conversation. Their guide led them through the throng and through a couple of doors down a long hallway. He stopped before the door at the end and rapped on it twice then opened the door and gestured the group to enter.

They entered a large office area, the walls were lined with bookshelves overflowing with books of all sizes, the desk at the far end was piled high with books and scrolls threatening to spill over onto the floor. A large table filled the center of the room, surprisingly this table was bare of books, only a couple of decanters and 8 silver goblets sat before an equal number of chairs.

An older man rose from behind the desk at the noise of the doors, he came around the desk and approached them and they could see him clearly now. He was human and appeared ancient, a head full of shockingly white hair was in constant disarray. (Picture Doc Brown from Back to the Future films) A plain tan colored robe hung from thin shoulders, the only adornment was a golden amulet which had the symbol of the Library of Felarin.

“Ahhhh, I am so glad you could come,” he said with a smile as he came up to them, “I am Tremain, Chief Librarian.”

They could hear the door closing behind them as their guide left them alone with the head of the library. The old man gestured them to the large table and picking up a little bell he rang it once. A young man, maybe 15 years of age, came out of a side passage and hurried forth to pick up one of the decanters and began to fill the goblets.

“Please be seated,” the Chief Librarian said, “I have a business proposition to discuss with you. We can enjoy a little Sylvarian wine while we talk.”

As they said, he took his place at the head of the table, he took up his goblet which was quickly poured by the young man. The older man took a small sip and sighed with pleasure.

“This particular wine is made with waters from Amban Aluir in Mealamin.” he told them and then took one more sip, sighed and set the goblet down. The Sylvari in the group would of course know that Amban Aluir was one of the natural wonders of the world, perhaps the most stunningly beautiful waterfall in existence. The waters were said to be purified by the gods themselves and were purported to have wondrous healing properties.

Once the group was seated and goblets were filled before them, the young servant boy withdrew and closed the doors behind him leaving to talk about the proposed assignment.

“Let me begin by telling you something about the Library of Felarin,” the old man began, “This place is much more than most people know. They see this large building and think it is just a Library. But this place is the greatest collection of knowledge in the world of Audalis. It is four stories tall, but beneath the city are miles of caverns where many older works are kept in the cooler climate to maintain their integrity. We have millions of works here, books, scrolls, simple pages, from works long past and from ancient civilizations that no longer walk upon Audalis. The Library is a work of lifetimes, one of the most important works. Once we are all gone, this place will be the only record of our existence.”

He paused to lift his goblet and take another drink of the wonderful wine before getting to the heart of reason they were here.

“To gather all of these works we have hundreds of agents out searching the world,” he continued, “they will purchase the works, or sometimes copies of the works if the original is not for sale. Sometimes they have to ‘rescue’ the items from ‘unsavory’ people who tend to use such knowledge for evil purposes. You see certain knowledge can be dangerous in the wrong hands, and that is why I have summoned you here.”

He looked over the group as if accessing their capabilities, as if he was examining a book or tome of some kind to gleam what information he could about it.

“Have you ever heard of the Compendium of Sren?” he asked and then waved his hand dismissively, “never mind, I doubt any of you have as it is a very ancient tome from the earliest age of man. The Compendium was written long ago, by who no one really knows, it is rumored to contain ancient magicks which in the wrong hand could wreck horrible things upon the races of Audalis.”

He took another sip from his goblet, it seemed he was not use to speaking for an extended period of time.

“For centuries, no one has heard of the location of this Compendium,” he went on, “many thought it was just a myth, but recently one of our agents, who is out searching for rumors of lost works, returned to say that he had perhaps learned of it’s possible location. The Ruins of Melenkur Keep. If you are not familiar with it, the keep is located Northwest of here in the dark lands of Sendria; this is a cursed land, home to a twisted people. The Keep at Melenkur was once a powerful and bright place where knights of light and goodness once roamed; now it a tattered and twisted place where only evil dwells.”

“Now to the heart of the matter,” he sighed, “our agents are not prepared to handle this type of assignment and we wish to hire you to go there, see if the rumors of the Compendium are true and if so, bring it back here where we can keep it save from those who would use it for their own evil ends.”

He lifted his goblet and sipped, then waited for them to process the information he had given them and to discuss it and hopefully give him an answer on whether they would take the job.

12 years ago...
"...and so with the sword you shall become a knight. Got it?" Archan had been forced to endure yet another speech. At age 8, it was painfully boring to him; especially since he was here to train as a warrior. In his mind, the whole point of being here was to learn to fight! Not to learn something about being a honourful 'knight'.

"Yes sir," Archan groaned.

"Something tells me that you're not too interested in this." His trainer said.

"It's just, sir, that I want to learn how to fight! I don't want to learn all this other stuff!"

His trainer sighed the sigh of hearing the same argument before. He turned back to Archan. " Being a warrior is not all about crusading and fighting. A truly great warrior isn't just a common street thug with money. They are clever; skilled; and of course, they have heart." He looked at the cynical Archan. "But I see you don't seem interested. Fine. A bit of blade practice today, and then more knowledge. Got it?"


Archan sat up a bit straighter. Finally, he was going to actually start training. Eagerly, he stood up and ran towards the training swords. No need to go on about manners now! Once Archan had his sword, he sprinted out to the training yard. His trainer, tough a bit exasperated, came out closely behind him.



Current day...

Archan began his stroll through the town. Already, he felt the comfort of his blade tap his side. His hair was already dry, despite the early morning training. He sure hopped that something happened soon. He didn't want to lose his touch!

He felt the weight of his backpack, mostly his armour, pull at his shoulders. All of his armour was in there except his gauntlets and boots. His boots because it was very hard to fight without them... and his gauntlet? Well they enhanced his fighting prowess. No point being caught completely off guard!

As he had so many times throughout recent years, Archan glanced down at his worn tunic. He really wished he wore something in a flamboyant red, green, or yellow. A Drannese citizen always dressed bright! Though, Archan doubted that anyone near his home would do anything but hurl him in jail. Ever since the accident...

Archan shook his head. No he wouldn't think about that. It was bad enough that his group knew he wasn't allowed to go back to his home. Now, he couldn't brew on that. He needed to do other things, even if it was wait.

A few hours later, he discovered his waiting may be over. "Sir! Sir!" A voice called out to him. Archan rotated to see who it was. It was a young man. Stopping for a moment, the man caught his breath. "Sir I bring a message for you from lady Alana."

"Speak citizen." Archan commanded, forgetting his status, or lack of, for a moment.

"Lady Alana wishes to speak with you at the Broken sorrow in sir." The messanger said.

"I will go than," Archan said with a curt nod. The word dismissed began to form on his lips. A memory from a short time ago. "Thank you." Quickly, he rotated on his heel and began to march towards the inn.

Within a few minutes, he was there. He sat down at the table and waited patiently for anyone after him. When drinks were served, Archan, in true Drannese fashion, finished his in one fell swoop. Once everyone arrived, Alana told everyone about the job. After a few minutes of conversation, Archan announced," I think that we should go. A mission that pays would be plenty worth are time. He smiled as warmly as he could. Of course, that is if you decide to go." After everyone else agreed, he was confident that they would get a job.

Once they arrived at the Library. The bells rung six, and the doors opened. Archan was amazed that the library was so big... so big it may even rival many of the Drannese noble's keep! It was stocked with books, scrolls and parchments; Archan had never seen so many books together.

Soon, they entered Lord Tremain's personal study, or so Archan assumed. The first thing overly apparent to Archan was the stacks of books. He resisted the urge to go and tidy things up. He knew that only the Drannese would be so orderly.

He sat down, after he pulled out a chair. He waited as the goblets were filled with wine; he gave the server a nod, before he drank it. It was one of the best wines he had tasted... possibly the best.

After enjoying his wine, Slyvarian wine he said, for a few seconds, Lord Tremain began. Archan listened intently, glad that he was going to finally get a mission. He listened intently as Lord Tremain intently. Lord Tremain began to explain about the library, then about this Compendium tome. It was apparently in this place called the keep of Melenkur. Lord Tremain paused, waiting for a response.

"My lord," Archan began, "I don't know about my colleagues here, but I am interested. Any idea of exactly what lurks at the Keep of Melenkur?

Where yesterday a crippled woman in a well worn cap vied the passing merchants for a few coins, without much luck, today a beautiful young woman in finery that could pass for court robes in several of the smaller baronies sought charity as well. It was not for herself she asked for such, but rather to aid the downtrodden, poor orphans who filled the city orphanage to overflowing. "Spare a coin or two gentlemen?" she asked a passing pair of overly plump merchants. "Oh not today lass, been a tough month you know and profits are down." She knew it was a lie. Once more she spoke but this time her fingers traced an almost unnoticable pattern in the air. "As you sure you couldn't spare even a single gold coin?" For a moment the merchants looked at her with a blank stare, then they both opened their coin purse. "Why of course we can help the little ones; and it would not be right to give only a single coin." Four gold coins landed with a clink amoung the others in the fine basket. "Thanks you, your kindness will surely be rewarded by the gods." Outwardly she looked pleased, inside she hoped the gods would serve up an afterlife of suffering for such greedy men. Every day it was the same; when she sought charity for the children in her usual form she was shunned and treated with distain. Even in elegant form she found but few of the rich who would part with more than a copper and then they acted as if they would feel the pinch of it. However, even without asking, many of the poor sought her out to give what very possibly was their last copper to help 'those in need'. For those she hoped for an afterlife of comfort. It was nearly midday when a messenger boy brought word that she was to meet with her group. Thanking the lad she gave him a copper coin and his eyes became big a saucers. "For me?" he asked. "Yes for you child, but naught for you alone. See that some others share in your good fortune." "That I shall miss!" he exclaimed as he dashed off to show his friends his windfall.

Dropping her guise, Alana made her was to the group and listened to word of the invitation from the librarian. At six they all met with him and learned of his request for assistance. "I take it that the item cannot be gathered by normal methods. The owner is not interested in selling it or your own people would have retrieved it. Who exactly has it and what manner of procurement do you authorize? I am sure that we can come to some agreement on fair compensation for our efforts, yes?" Alana waited a moment before adding, "By the way, have you had a chance to donate to the orphanage this month?" Alana was not sure exactly what answer to expect from this man.

Behind the veiled lace covers hanging from the rails connecting the four ornate posters standing vigil at the corners of the grand bed silken skin and raven hair undulated and moved in almost serpentine fashion. One body rose and fell like the swell of a great tide crashing against the shore. The carnal moans of pleasure and passion echoed throughout the great chamber, eliciting more than one giggle or gossip from the hired help passing by the door. Sweat gleamed off her fine physique as the midday sun cascaded through the open window illuminating her golden complexion. As the intimate lover's song and dance reached a crescendo, quivering bodies fell like rushes under the scythe, heavy heartbeats within their rising chests the only sound in the blissful aftermath.

Rose turned to her suitor, and gently brushed a stray lock of blonde hair from her gentle face. The woman smiled softly, her lips curling into a telltale smile. "Alice my dear, the things you do.. oh my, i should like to simply lock you away if only to guarantee keeping you close." She giggled contently, belying her virile spirit despite the faintest of greys creeping in around her ears and scalp. Alice looked on with a grin. "M'lady you know I cannot stay. while I thoroughly enjoy our time together, there is much to be done, and I doubt your husband would approve of the way we handle our business."

"Oh if only he tended to his wife as he tends to his job. The only rise I've gotten out of him in months is the taxes if you know what I mean." She sighed, simply admiring the exquisite beauty of the woman beside her. " Rose sat up, swinging long shapely legs over the side of the bed, the sheets nestled around her waist as her hair cascaded down to caress her shoulders and neck. Standing, and letting the sheets fall where they may Rose turned and leaned over to place a tender kiss upon the lips of her suitor. "Lady Clarice, the day is young, and our transaction comes to an end.” As Rose moved to fetch her clothes, slowly donning each piece in a tantalizing final show Lady Clarice licked her lips one final time before speaking.

“The taxes due are on the table by the door”

“Amin harmuva onalle e' cormamin m'lady”

~*~*~

As Rose left the chateau, the subtle clinking of coin in her recently acquired velvet purse brought a smile to her full lips. Looking skyward, the sun was passed its peak, and the streets were bustling with all manner of folk. Rose enjoyed the clamour of the city life, it reminded her of home. There was something in the cacophony of noise, in the myriad of smells and sights that breathed life into people. Ferelen truly was a city of wonder, and yet for all its magical and mercantile advancements, it too still had its diversity of economic and social standings. For every wealthy merchant or lord sitting upon a full coffer there were those who struggled for the simple necessities of life. Rose was in a somewhat unique position to enjoy both sides of the social fence from time to time. But it was not always so, and the proud woman never forgot her roots, or to pay homage and give thanks as she may to the hard life she had which forged her spirit and willpower into what it is today.

Passing by a small cart with the remnants of the day's baked goods left upon it Rose stopped to address the keeper. “All baked 'is mornin m'lady”, said the portly man adorned in a snug apron caked with flour and a foppish chapeau sitting atop his bald pate seemingly defying gravity as it lay slanted off at an obscure angle. As Rose perused the goods, the sweet scent of honey loaf and the spice of a cinnamon bread wafted by and she realized she had worked up quite the appetite today with hardly a stop for a bite! There remained less than a dozen assorted loaves left upon the cart accompanied by a selection of small tarts. Rose smiled softly at the man and he couldn't help but sheepishly smile back, for before him at his humble cart stood a ravishing beauty donned in noble finery. Satin and lace accentuated her silken surcoat, with golden stitching and silver clasps drawing it tight around her curvacious form. A simple corded necklace dipped low, masking its end within her cleavage as a simple silver cuffed earring clipped her right ear.

“How much for the lot of them good baker?” She asked with her foreign tone adding further allure to her persona. The man shuffled where he stood a moment taken aback at the question, before gathering his senses and looking over his wares. He counted the loaves on his stubby fingers trying to do the simple arithmetic in his mind. "That would be twenny-eight copper pieces m'lady for the bread, another seven for the tarts."

Rose reached into the simple pouch at her waist and withdrew a single silver piece. She looked at the baker, and her eyes never left his as she deftly flipped the coin knuckle over knuckle as she manipulated the piece along her fingers before tucking it back into her palm, the bakers eyes never leaving the monetary token. “I'll tell you what. You can have this piece, all of it, clear your cart and spend the rest of the day with your family if you would do me but two kindnesses.” The baker's brow furled and his eyes took a moment to leave her hands before drawing up across her bosom where they too lingered just a little too long for courteousy sake before meeting her eyes.

“Yes M'lady, what can I do for you?”

“I want you to take everything you have left, and take it to the other end of the quarter. There is an orphanage there, perhaps you know of it? “ The baker nodded slowly. “Yes I know if it, many a child there without a ma or pa, a shame given the times.”

“A tragedy it is. I'm sure the matron of the house can use all the help she can to feed those poor souls. So be a dear and take your cart and offer her up your breads and tarts would you?”

The bakers eyes widened at the sudden act of generosity, and he shook his head quickly as he started to wrap up his loaves and prepare the cart for departure. Rose held out the silver piece and the baker reached for it stopping for a moment. “And the second kindness m'lady?” Rose looked the man over and smiled once more. “Your name good baker.”

The man seemed almost taken aback at such a simple request. It shouldn’t seem so out of place, and yet here stood a delightful woman of noble standing asking it of him. Stammering he replied.

“S-s-simon m'lady. Simon Moore.”

Reaching forward a white gloved hand, upon which sat a signet ring of a rose wrapped in laurel, the woman handed him the silver piece. “A pleasure to meet you Simon.” The baker quickly dusted his hands off upon his well used apron, and took the piece, before clasping her hand between his own and shaking it with vigor. “Thanks be to you m'lady! Solanis be with you!”

“Nay good Simon, send your thanks to Falloes, for today he smiles on you, his emissary. Walk in the light Simon.” Rose turned to walk away and was feeling rather good about herself as her stomach rumbled once more. Debating on where to quell her hunger she was approached by a man bearing the emblazoned horse and eagle upon his vest. Courier she thought. “Lady Rose a message for you

Rose turned and greeted the man as he recited his message. “Lady Alana is requesting your presence at the Broken Sorrow Inn ma'am. It is said she is calling others as well.” Rose gave the man a curt nod and a thank you before he turned and disappeared back into the busy streets.

Rose smiled as her step picked up in pace, if Alana was calling, then adventure was likely afoot; as well as solving the query of where to grab a bite.

~*~*~

The woman who entered the Broken Sorrow was not the same woman who received the message as far as any onlooker would see. The woman who took her seat at a table in the back was clad in a leathery black cloak which cast shadows about her own person, and as she passed through doorways and shadows she seemed to fade from sight as she moved. To many an over inebriated patron her presence and passing were merely cast as figments of imagination. Taking her seat and casting a glance at her colleagues gathered she lowered her hood, her raven hair cropped short and tied back, emerald eyes sparkling in the firelight.

“Elen sila lumenn omentilmo, she said smiling. It is good to see you.

The conversation was simple, mostly surmising what the Library would want with their group. Rose had done some minor jobs for the library before, mostly the simple acquisition of works from merchants or those who passed through, all dreadfully boring really. Go here, buy this from so and so try to talk him down in price, and deliver it thus Rose hoped it would be something a little more exciting given the fact that her entire company had been rallied. Six o'clock on the bell tower would hopefully answer that. As the group gathered their things to prepare to head to the Great Library, Rose stopped Alana for a moment, handing her a velvet coin purse. “A charitable contribution towards the orphanage from parties who care.” The coin in the purse while no great wealth by nobility's standards would be a great relief for the orphanage.

~*~*~

Rose loved the Great Library, for she firmly believed knowledge was power and where such a repository of knowledge existed she knew in her soul great power lay along with it. The Archmage was brilliant in his establishing of this place. No longer would he have to delve into the tombs and crypts, dungeons or dragon's dens. Simply let the knowledge come to him and be gathered, shared or kept 'safe' under his care. As they gathered and met with the chief librarian the task at hand was revealed. More acquisitions, though this time of a much less mundane method. The thought of sacking an old keep made the blood in Rose' veins race. This is what she had been waiting for.

Rose drank of her goblet, the exquisite vintage upon her tongue brought memories of a venture long ago to her mind and she blushed as she relived the wining and dining in her mind. As questions rose regarding the mission, Rose's eyes took keen interest on the room she was in. She paid particular attention to anything of interest in the form of books on shelves not quite tucked in, the order of the books upon the shelves, were they alphabetical, separated by category or some other form of organization. This observation was simply how her mind worked, every bit of information was merely a potential piece of a bigger puzzle.

(Not interrupting and can be readdressed in further posts, but Rose would like to ask about maps and floor plans of the keep, a history upon it and any potential occupants, and of course, compensation for the company's successful completion of the mission)

(Sorry for the long post, I just sorta kept rolling with what came to mind, it's been so long I enjoyed the chance to write again)

The new day born out of the darkness of the night was bright and cool the bustle of a city on the verge of another busy day clearly heard. Vendors opening their stalls, eatery's beginning the cooking of bread, early bird taverns opening their doors for both food and drink. This was the city of Felarin a place of hope and goodness too many but as with all city's a place of hopelessness and sorrow to others.

Prostitutes returning to their Inn rooms and homes to rest from a night hopefully well served. Soldiers on their morning patrols, lawmen rousting the drunks from taverns and alley‘s. Thieves, muggers, and pickpockets counting their gains, teen gangs of elves, humans and other races roaming their so called hoods collecting their protection pay offs.

A city of magic and wonder, with a school of magic, shrines to almost all the Gods, and home to the great Library of Felarin. A city of shadows and corruption, bordello’s, gambling halls, and shops dedicated to the pawning of illegal gains. A city full of many different races living and dying together without a seconds thought. The Elf Ranger known only as Crow sat on the roof top of the inn of Broken Sorrow above a rented room window looking into the city spread out before him and hated it.

Well maybe not hate, he thought to himself, after all hate was a strong word perhaps a better word was disgusted. To an Elf born of the wilds even before he was born, a city of this size was like a cancer on the face of the earth. Born into a family bigger then most, a circus family, the young aged Elf once known as Maithias Crowmarhte was not one to stay long in one place. The only reason to be in this foul city was work which he and his group needed as the last job had not paid as well as hoped.

As he sat there as the sun rose into the sky he noticed a boy come out of the Inn and look right up at him and wave. Not wasting any time and feeling a little bored he stood, moved to the roof’s edge, and in a series of jumps, springs, and a last minute flip landed on his feet in front of the young boy.

“Master Crow, the Lady Mage Alana, orders your presence inside the inn at once”

Crow had to smile at the wording of the boy’s relay of Alana’s wishes as he knew better then to think Alana would order any of the party around. The Lady Mage was not one to be in a leadership role though within a city she was sometimes a good choice. Out in the wilds the group conceded the leadership role to him as he knew them better then most, but overall the party really had no leader content to play it by ear as the need arose.

Nodding his head to the boy he followed him into the back room where the rest of the party was slowly gathering. Once all were gathered around the table the six of them briefly discussed what the Library could want with their group. In the end, they agreed to at least go and find out what the Chief Librarian wanted with them, hopefully it would pay well.

“Please be seated,” the Chief Librarian said, “I have a business proposition to discuss with you. We can enjoy a little Sylvarian wine while we talk.”

As they sat, he took his place at the head of the table; he took up his goblet which was then filled by a young man. When the serving boy moved to fill Crows cup, the Ranger waved him off, not trusting to any such refreshments during a business meeting.

The older man took a small sip and sighed with pleasure.

“This particular wine is made with waters from Amban Aluir in Mealamin.” he told them and then took one more sip, sighed and set the goblet down. The Sylvari in the group would of course know that Amban Aluir was one of the natural wonders of the world, perhaps the most stunningly beautiful waterfall in existence. The waters were said to be purified by the gods themselves and were purported to have wondrous healing properties.

With the group seated and goblets filled, the young servant boy withdrew and closed the doors behind him leaving those within to talk about the proposed assignment.
For the next several minutes the Chief Liberian told them why he had called them here. In the end it was to ‘recover’ something called the Compendium of Sren. For Crow, being one that had no time for magic in his role as the parties Pathfinder looked to Alana the party’s ‘expert’ on magic.

"I take it that the item cannot be gathered by normal methods. The owner is not interested in selling it or your own people would have retrieved it. Who exactly has it and what manner of procurement do you authorize? I am sure that we can come to some agreement on fair compensation for our efforts, yes?" The parties Mage then waited a moment before adding,

"By the way, have you had a chance to donate to the orphanage this month?"

Once again Crow had to try hard to keep a grin from his face as the party’s present situational leader and negotiator began to work her magic once more.......

Strike. Pull. Turn the earth.
The sharp chopping sound of the hoe breaking the dry black soil may have sounded repetitive to some, but to Lambert, it was a comforting rhythm, the cadence controlled by his own hands.

It was old, and had long since been neglected, but the garden in the courtyard of the old limestone hall could again be made beautiful, a place where one could converse, read, or even just sit in thought and enjoy the sun's warming rays on a pleasant day. The building itself had not initially been a church; rather, some sort of gathering hall. But after its abandoning by the previous owners, it was acquired by Merca's followers and was systematically being converted into a place of worship. Slowly, but surely. Piece by piece.

Bert had taken on the maintenance of the courtyard, though not for unselfish reasons. Indeed, he was a man of the cloth, but he had not been brought up in an overly religious family. Though his family had offered prayers to Kith-Jora and to Falloes in times of planting and harvest, Lambert had been raised in a farmhouse, working the land and watching the grain grow in their modest fields. But, the third boy in his family, he was raised a hard worker, and even though in the years past he had taken the brilliant red of the Chancellor of Light, in his heart, he was still a farmer.

The sun had risen enough to just barely peek above the shabby walls of the cloister, and its heat was certainly felt upon Lambert's bald head. Sweat beaded upon his brow with the efforts, but even though dirt streaked his strong arms and dirtied his clothes, he was in his most welcome environment. That was not something he generally mentioned to the brothers and sisters, though. He was perfectly fine with them merely admiring his work ethic.

Strike. Pull. Turn the earth.
The garden has long since been overrun with grass and weeds, and it had taken him the better part of the morning to clear those away so he could have at the soil, churning it up to allow for seeding. What would grow here, he was unsure of. Somebody else would plant in the wake of his labours, and the harvest would go either to the larders in the basement, or would be used to feed the hungry. Either way, it was for a dutiful cause, to serve those needing his abilities. And while the clergy generally regarded aiding the needy as a task requiring law or arms, it never failed to make Bert chuckle to think that his years of threshing grain and cultivating the earth might serve a similar purpose.

From somewhere behind him, the sound of footsteps alerted the priest to a visitor, and somebody not of their order. Those of the temple wore cloth sandals when on the grounds; these were hard-heeled boots. As good a time for a short break as any, he reasoned, and swung the hoe up and across his shoulder. Wiping a bare forearm across his brow, he turned to greet the arriver.

“Master Vaughan?”

A sandy haired youth, perhaps not more than nineteen years of age, and garbed in robes bearing a crest of the Library of Felarin, stood in the doorway, a rolled piece of parchment in his grip. Bert walked over to a rain barrel in the corner, and scooped a dipper of water and poured it over his head, rubbing its cooling touch over his scalp before taking a sip. He turned back to the boy and nodded once to him, whereupon he was presented with the roll.

“The lady Alana requests your presence.” He spoke in a quiet tone. Lambert took the paper from him and offered a dipper of water, which was politely declined. Before being dismissed, the lad hurried out and down the hall, disappearing around a corner.

The priest unfurled the letter and scanned its contents. Concise, a request from Alana to meet at the Inn of Broken Sorrow as soon as possible. If it required immediacy, it was likely some sort of task that she had come by, and would potentially mean getting set to depart on the road to who knew where. Not that he had any opposition to that. Lambert was diligent in his roamings, seeking to supply balance and justice where it was needed. However, he was careful in making sure that the draw of new possibilities did not cause him to drop the things that required his attention, and he turned his grey gaze back upon the half-broken earth of the rectangular plot.

“She understands fully well that I apply my talents where needed, when needed, and that I see my jobs through.” He spoke to nobody, and brought the hoe back into both hands.

Strike. Pull. Turn the earth...
*****

An hour later, the priest had himself cleaned up and garbed himself in his loose fitting vestments, the grey and red material flowing smoothly together as he moved. His arrival at the inn was half what he expected, in seeing a few of the folks he'd come to regard as companions and friends, though the invitation to the library left him wondering. Without protest, Lambert agreed to attend. The prospect of what a librarian could want with a group such as their invoked a curiosity that requite sating.

Church bells clanged six tolls, seeming to almost greet their arrival at the magnificent building. A clerk wearing simple robes did the actual welcoming, and led them inside. The place amazed Bert, though for a place of learning, he preferred simplicity over grandeur, which seemed to be reflected in the make and order of the library. But he certainly couldn't scoff at the wonders the place contained, elevated when they were met by the Chief Librarian, who explained the innumerable tomes that lay within the halls, shelves, and vaults of the overly ornate place. At some point, he'd like to come here to read, to learn about the many facets of the world within which they lived.

But that would have to wait, for it seemed that they were to be tasked with an errand from the caretaker of the library. The Compendium of Sren, some ancient manuscript or spell tome, had been discovered, and while he personally had little interest in fetching some worm eaten pages from the depths of a ruined fort, the prospect of a collection of powerful magicks being used for dark purposes was enough to sway the cleric. It was the duty of he and his brothers and sisters to ensure that such things were not allowed to happen, that injustice and tyranny be broken like glass.

“I will undertake this assignment.” Lambert folded his hands inside the sleeves of his robe and looked from one member of his companions to another. Sometimes, words and law could absolve a problem. Other times, force was required, and the man had long since laid aside his grain flail to take up the might of the warrior's version. “If this book bears the powers that you claim, it belongs in a safe place, not in the hands of somebody who may use it for ill purposes.”

Not one to waste words when they need not be spoken, Bert left his thoughts at that. Unless his council was asked, or things carried the potential to get out of hand, he was perfectly fine with waiting for the opinions of the others.

He broke his silence momentarily at Alana's inquiry of donations to the orphans. “I cannot pledge money, as our order is attempting to take root here, and we are most literally working on charity and good will ourselves, but perhaps if you petition to Abbess Deanna, you may receive donations or support. A new garden will soon be planted.” He smiled at that mention, taking pride in his labours.

Lambert was happy when the times came to hammer swords into ploughshares, but the man bore big shoulders, and would carry the weight of hardships upon himself when he was called upon to turn the ploughshare back into a weapon. But that did not mean he couldn't enjoy the moments of solace he found in between.

Strike. Pull. Turn the earth.

The northern road, just outside Felarin
Benson approached the Sylvan* encampment with a bit of trepidation. He had heard enough stories of how the nomadic folk used their beguiling charm to relieve their guests of all things that might be weighing them down, that the lad had tied his money pouch tightly shut, wrapped it twice around his belt and tucked it into the front of his trousers. That should keep it safe, he thought to himself.

The encampment was full of life and activity, consisting of various tents, simple yet colourful, scattered around five wagons gathered together in a circle at the center. Benson guessed the Sylvans numbered around fifteen men, ten women, along with at least twenty-five children. “Guests” from Felarin, merchants and other tradesmen, were also amongst the group, buying and trading wares, looking through odd and unusual trinkets and treasures the nomads had brought with them. The smell of meat roasting mixed in with other more exotic scents of incense and spice. And over the din of people trading and talking, laughing and playing, came the sound of music from the center of the camp... a tin whistle and mandolin played gaily to the rhythm of a tambourine.

“Ah! Good day, young sir!” A Sylvan man greeted Benson boisterously, as three children suddenly played a quick game of tag around the courier. “How might we be of service to ye today? Perhaps ye be looking for a special token of love for a sweet young lass?”

“No, I’m...” Benson began as he tried to shoo away the children.

“Ah, perhaps some surprise spices for ye mam?”

“No, I’m just looking...” The children continued to dance around him, now singing a happy tune. Benson felt nearly sure there had been a tug on his belt.

“Ah, nay, of course... a blade, then, perhaps. We’ve just acquired two of the finest from the enchanting Syls. A finer steel would be hard to...”

“No!” Benson shouted, becoming frustrated with the children.

“Ah! I see!” The Sylvan man smiled. “Petra, Gregory, Janice... off with ye scoundrels. Leave our guest alone.” The children scattered. Benson was relieved to find his pouch still in place. “Now,” continued the nomad. “What is it ye seek, son.”

“I’m looking for a woman by the name of Nadya,” Benson stated, a little flustered. “I have a message for her.”

“Oh, why didn’t ye say so right away, lad?” the man replied with a wide smile. He ushered Benson briskly towards the center wagons. “She’s within the circle.” Then, as though giving Benson inside information, the nomad spoke with hushed tones in his ear, “I’d wait until she’s finished, though, lad. The folks might not take too kindly if ye interrupt.”

Benson nodded. Moving to within the circled wagons, the courier stood quietly behind the gathered people. In the center of the circle, the lithe form of a Sylvan woman moved with carefree grace. In her right hand, a scimitar flashed in the mid-day sun. In her left hand, a tambourine tapped out a simple beat, moving from her hips to the side of her blade.

Almost immediately, Benson became mesmerized by the woman’s dance. Her whole body was an instrument of rhythm, from the bangles around her wrists that jangled to the beaded tassels around her slender hips that swished like lightly falling rain drops, as she leapt and spun around the circle. It was a battle dance, a blade song, to be certain... and yet it seemed to Benson, as limited as his knowledge was of such things, that the woman was improvising... like a leaf moved by the wind, unpredictable, yet gentle and fluid.

The mandolin and tin whistle players continue to keep time with the woman, and Benson felt the music and dance lighten his spirit and gladden his soul. After a time, Benson could not tell how long, it came to a quick end. The woman in the center, exited the circle, had a quick word with the other players, giving them her thanks. Then, to Benson’s surprise, lock eyes on the courier and made her way towards him.

Nadya smiled as she approached the courier. Kison, the man who had greeted Benson first, had relayed the message to Michal, the tin whistle player, who had relayed the message to Nadya.

“I have been told you were looking for a certain Nadya,” the Sylvan woman said gently to Benson, as she danced and twirled playfully around him. “I am her. What is your name, good sir?”

Somewhere, at the outer corners of his consciousness, an alarm was going off inside Benson, warning him that he could not move and that should be of concern to him... but the courier could not hear it, so enchanted had he become with the twirling Sylvan.

“Benson,” he stammered, his own voice sounding quite jarring against the Nadya’s beautiful pitch and tone. “I come with a message from Alana.”

“Alana, hmmm,” Nadya purred into his ear. “Tell me more, good sir.”

“She wishes you to join her at the Inn of the Broken Sorrow as soon as you can,” Benson continued.

“Is there anything more to the message?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, then,” Nadya came closer again to the courier, “Thank you for finding me. You are free to go.” Benson felt as though his limbs became suddenly like jelly and he nearly fell over. “Easy, there,” Nadya smiled as she caught him. “Here, now,” she placed a pouch in his hand. “Take this for your troubles.”

Benson looked down at the coin pouch. It seemed vaguely familiar, but his mind was all muddled, he could place where he had seen it before. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Nadya gave the courier a wink and a quick kiss on the cheek, “No trouble at all, good sir.”

Leaving the courier, Nadya found Bosnik, her grey stallion, and made her way into Felarin.


Inn of the Broken Sorrow
As her companions shared drinks together and Alana relayed the message from the Chief Librarian, Nadya smiled inwardly at the thought of adventuring with these five once more. Their recent work as caravan guards had been less exciting than the Sylvan* woman had hoped it would be. Still, traveling with these fine folk had made it more than bearable.

Alana... the hag always had Nadya’s admiration. While her form was hard on the eyes, the wizardly woman had a tenacious spirit which burned in multifaceted hues. She appeared innocent as the morning dove, but as shrewd as the wily fox.

Rose... enticingly intoxicating as a field of wild flowers, her womanly wiles were as disarming and deadly as her skill with the blade. The woman kept her personal affairs close to herself, but Nadya always felt as though there were plans within plans within plans bidding their time within Rose, just waiting to bloom.

Archan... it was hard for Nadya not to smirk a bit when she thought of the bold knight. Well formed and cock-sure of himself, Archan had the balls of a bull (and, sometimes, the brains). Nadya enjoyed watching (and, on occasion, teasing) the man as he daily practiced and honed his skill with the blade.

Lambert... one of Merca’s man-servant, the priest had a fond place in Nadya’s heart. At first glance, it would appear that the two would be nearly polar-opposites of one another. While the Sylvan woman was always trying to add a little more colour into the man’s life, she adored Lambert’s simple honest and honest simplicity

Crow... the Sylvarian forester had a keen sight for seeing things for what they were, a trait which had saved the Sylvan lass from a bandit’s arrow on one occasion. Still, Nadya wondered, if the long-lived Sylvarian was capable of seeing things for what they could be, and often found herself singing songs of hope and the rewards of love-risked for the skeptical realist.

Nadya smiled warmly at her Companions. Yes, it will be good to get on the road with them again.

Library of Felarin
“Ahhhh, I am so glad you could come,” the Chief Librarian said with a smile as he came up to them, “I am Tremain, Chief Librarian.”

Nadya curtsied as she passed before the elderly man, “Thank you for the invitation, Master Tremain.”

“Please be seated,” the Chief Librarian said, “I have a business proposition to discuss with you. We can enjoy a little Sylvarian wine while we talk.”

Seated at the table, Nadya listened intently with her ears to the stories of the Chief Librarian, a part of her mind already playing with how the man’s words might sound as poetry or song. Her eyes were not on the Chief Librarian, however... rather, they flitted across the room, taking in the rich images of the room and painting them on to her memory. The rest of Nadya’s senses were engaged with the lovely Sylvarian wine Tremain had served up... she could feel the natural magicks of the land strengthening her body and fortifying her spirit.

“For centuries, no one has heard of the location of this Compendium,” Tremain went on, “many thought it was just a myth, but recently one of our agents, who is out searching for rumors of lost works, returned to say that he had perhaps learned of it’s possible location. The Ruins of Melenkur Keep. If you are not familiar with it, the keep is located Northwest of here in the dark lands of Sendria...”
At the mention of the dark lands, all of Nadya’s senses suddenly came to focus on the Chief Librarian causing her to cough and sputter on her wine. “Sorry,” she apologised. “I’m fine.” But she was not... a shiver ran through her as her mind recalled a moment in time from year’s gone by... the last time she had travelled inside Sendia... darkness and fire... pain and death... fear . She tried to shake it from her mind, but the memory held on... the fear clung tightly to her soul.

Her companions began to chime in their willingness to participate in this dark quest and moved towards asking questions about compensation, as well as information of the keep and the artifact. Nadya remained silent, while her soul whirled about. Are you brave, little Nadya? Brave enough to sing hope where none exists? Brave enough to dance life into death? The Sylvan woman had no voice to silence her soul.

[ OOC: Nadya will remain silent unless asked directly whether or not she is participating. Perceptive companions might notice this behaviour as a “little off” for Nadya as she tends to chime in rather quickly with her thoughts regarding potential adventures.

Teller of Aryn: If it is your intention to move the story passed negotiations, then Nadya will make two requests, on behalf of the group, with regards to compensation and in addition to any monetary rewards that the quest entails – 1) Nadya will ask that the Companions be allowed free access to the Library for one full year, commencing the day following the completion of their quest; 2) Nadya will ask that each of the Companions receive one full wineskin filled with the same wine the Chief Librarian has served them this evening prior to leaving for Sendria, so the Companions might bring some good cheer into what is likely to be a dark and desolate place.

Finally... I realise I didn't give a very good physical description of Nadya... so here's a couple links to what I imagine her to look like: link and link (bottom pic on the second link)

* Also, "Sylvan" is the name I've given to this nomadic, "gypsy"-like folk ]

OOC: Oops, in my OOC section, Nadya's first request was suppose to read, "In addition to monetary compensation that the group would receive 1) Free access to the Library for one year beginning on the day following their completion of the quest... not sure how that got deleted, but there you go.

Library of Felarin - Evening
"My lord," Archan began, "I don't know about my colleagues here, but I am interested. Any idea of exactly what lurks at the Keep of Melenkur?

“I will undertake this assignment.” Lambert folded his hands inside the sleeves of his robe and looked from one member of his companions to another. Sometimes, words and law could absolve a problem. Other times, force was required, and the man had long since laid aside his grain flail to take up the might of the warrior's version. “If this book bears the powers that you claim, it belongs in a safe place, not in the hands of somebody who may use it for ill purposes.”

"I take it that the item cannot be gathered by normal methods. The owner is not interested in selling it or your own people would have retrieved it. Who exactly has it and what manner of procurement do you authorize? I am sure that we can come to some agreement on fair compensation for our efforts, yes?" Alana waited a moment before adding, "By the way, have you had a chance to donate to the orphanage this month?"
Lord Tremain listened to the few who did speak and they were questions he anticipated, except for the last one from Alana. The old man started to speak and then paused and looked at Alana for her unexpected question. He recovered quickly though and smiled at her.

“Well, I must admit not a question I thought you would ask,” he shook his head slightly before continuing, “Yes young lady, the Library supports the orphans quite frequently. Most of our Acolytes are in fact orphans who we take in at a certain age and train them and give them a life and a purpose. It is a quite successful program actually, I myself was once an orphan.”

Feeling he had sufficiently answered that question, he went on to hopefully answer the others.

“As to whom has the book,” he went on, “we aren’t sure. Several sources say it is within the Keep but we can’t get in there due to it’s current inhabitants. The keep was once a northern Sendrian outpost, but it was long abandoned when a great evil drove out or killed all of the knights manning the outpost. All I can tell you is that the evil is still there, and it is one that kills any and all that attempt to approach the keep. We have no recourse to buy or trade for the Compendium. This evil is beyond reasoning, others have tried in the past with no success. Our only hope is for a group, such as yours, to infiltrate the keep and take it from the evil force that resides there.”

“The Compendium is an ancient tome,” he continued, “it is said to contain lost knowledge of spells and magical devices not seen for ages. Such power can not remain within the hands of evil. The Library will pay you handsomely to retrieve the book and bring it here so that we can guard it and the mages at the School here in Felarin can safely study the book.”

“We do have some maps of the area around the keep, and old maps of the keep itself, at least as it was back before the evil possessed it. We have prepared copies of these for you, if you decide to undertake the mission.”

He took a sip of his wine as he let that sink in. Lowering his goblet he looked at all of them for a moment before he went on.

“The Library will pay you each 500 gold to undertake the mission,” he said, watching them to gauge their reaction, “if you find the Compendium and return it here then we will pay you each another 500. Of course, any ‘spoils’ you find in the keep you may divide amongst yourselves as you see fit.”

He rang the bell on the table and the door opened, the young man returned again bearing a decanter, he quickly refilled the old man’s goblet and anyone else’s that looked low.

“You are probably wondering about the Compendium itself,” Lord Tremain said as the boy made his rounds, “how will you recognize it? Well, that is the easy part. The Compendium was made using lost arts, and it is said to be a large book of about this size.”

He used his hands to roughly show a book of approximately 12” wide, 18” high and 6” thick.

“It is unique in construction,” he continued, “the cover and bindings are made of some sort of metal, even the pages are said to be a paper-thin metal themselves. The number of pages is unknown, rumor actually says that it has a finite number of pages but an infinite amount of pages. No one is quite sure what that actually means.”

“I am sure,” he concluded, “that you will know it is the Compendium when you see it.”

Looking them all over one more time he asked, “Well, do you all think this is a mission you will all wish to undertake? If so, do you have other questions that I might answer?”

(OOC: Ok, you have another round for questions and negotiations. Also, eveyone needs to decide and announce their intent to go on the mission. If that is done by the next update then we can get the group on the road. )

Alana smiled as the chief librarian paused a moment before answering about the orphanage. She often left people guessing what she woudl say or ask next. She listened to the price promised as well as the additional requests given. Alana had one more. "Access to the libray would of course include the compendium itself I presume? If so, I will see that it is brought here as quickly a possible." Alana was always looking for new spells and greater knowledge. Such was her version of the daily sword training of the knights or sleight of hand training of the thieves. A smile crossed he lips as she thought of the number of times the local thieves guild had either tried to run her off due to her manner of begging or more often tried to recruit her. "One more condition; a good quality mount. The trip sounds like a bit of a long one for someone in my condition."

As the boy filled his goblet, Archan once again gulped it down. He listened to the information about the keep. Unfortunately, there was no information about it's inhabitants... that just made the mission tougher. And a true Drannese never backed down from a challenge, no matter how dangerous!

Archan heard the reward. 500 gold for just doing the mission? And another 500 for bringing the book back? It would be the first time since he was a child that Archan would have that much money. He smiled a little bit. Finally, he would begin to regain his wealth. Then, he may even be able to get his way back to the heir for his father's village.

He heard Alana's agreement, and terms, Archan was positive that they were going to undertake this mission. He decided now was his time to respond. "My Lord, an extra mount would be preferred, but it is not necessary. Mine comes from the finest stock in all Drannon. It descended from Emperor Janus' horse." Archan paused for a moment, realizing that not everyone would care about his horse. " My lord, if my group is ready to go on this quest, than I shall. This Compendium will not stay in the hands of evil!" Banging his knuckles on the table, Archan enforced his point.

(Ooc, well Archan got to go about things the Drannon way. He certainly is proud of his horse. )

Lambert sat in quiet contemplation over the information that had just been provided them. Tremain claimed that identification of the book would be simple and straightforward, but the priest had his doubts about just how easy it would be to pick one stack of cover and contents from within the remains of a long forgotten hold. He kept these concerns to himself for the moment, however. The time for discussion on the matter would be later, after they had left the library. Expressing such to their contractor would supply unneeded worry to the elder fellow.

A total of a thousand golds per-head, plus whatever claims they might make along their journey, held a pretty strong appeal to Bert. While he himself had little use for such sums of money, it would find a very welcome home in building up the temple's influence in Felarin. Mostly working on hand-outs for the initial phases, he would be met with very welcome tidings if he was able to supply such a gracious amount to their efforts. This enough was reason for the cleric to take up his battle flail once again. Furthered by the potential for the spread of evil and tyranny if the Compendium were left to fall into the wrong hands, his resolve was set.

The holy man turned his gaze across his companions, sure that each would have their own wants and stipulations to the challenge ahead, but he found his iron grey eyes stopping on Nadya's unfamiliar, yet alluring, face. He heard the words of Archan promoting something about his home or his horse; he wasn't paying enough attention to tell which. But his thoughts had now turned inwards.

Lambert was a farmer at heart, but possessing a reverent soul, a simple man in a complex world, doing his duties in trying to make it a better place for the good people of Audalis. To not dilute his views, he voluntarily opted for a life free of excess and distractions where they need not be found. But while this brought him solace, he was learning that this was strange to the nomadic lass, who flitted the boundaries of his realm in a effort to brighten his life. In a way that she felt it needed brightening, he was convinced. Yet, her efforts were in the purest good nature, and while he had yet to truly be compliant, he never found himself short a smile when Nadya was present.

Her silence concerned him. She seemed to find the cleric severe, and yet was never absent of something to say or bring to him to try to help him reach out beyond his established world. But now, she opted instead to hold her tongue. Graceful, artistic, chatty Nadya, bereft of her voice.

It wasn't until he thought about it that he noticed he had been absently pinching the voluminous sleeves of his robes between agitated fingertips. Smoothly, he withdrew his hands and folded them on the tabletop before him.

“I have no questions to ask, myself; I will undertake this task to find this Compendium and bring it safely back. However,” Lambert suddenly had a thought. “I ask that my reward be given to Abbess Liara, that she may use it to further the development of our sacred hall. In addition, I would like the option for the clergy to use the library's resources, with your express permission, of course, that we may better serve the good people of Felarin and beyond in upholding law and justice for all.”

His request made, Lambert thought to his garden plot, awaiting the seed and water that would, in time, bring it to a healthy flourish. He was proud of his work, and it may be some time before the priest would lay eyes upon it again. Perhaps something would be growing by his return? The thought made him smile softly. And with this, an idea struck that would serve dual purposes.

“Nadya,” He addressed the Sylvan lass in a polite tone. “I must return to the temple to gather my things before we depart. I was summoned here from the midst of working the land; would you care to assist me in completing this before we leave?”

The request was simple, but to Bert, it could be the perfect way to repay her for all of her persistent efforts in bringing a smile to his grounded life. It would also be a chance to see if something was troubling her. He knew next to nothing of her life beyond the roads they had shared as a group, so if something had gone wrong in her life extended, perhaps a talk with the uncomplicated cleric would lighten her spirits enough to restore her the energy he'd come to admire.

“As to whom has the book,” the Chief Librarian went on...

But Nadya was only vaguely listening. Her mind and her heart were searching, searching for a song to rebuke the fear. She found none... rather her heart tuned itself to the grief inside.

Morning smiles
Like the face of a newborn child
Innocent unknowing
Winter's end
Promises of a long lost friend
Speaks to me of comfort

But I fear
I have nothing to give
I have so much to lose
Here in this lonely place
Tangled up in our embrace
There's nothing I'd like
Better than to fall
But I fear I have nothing to give

Wind in time
Rapes the flower trembling on the vine
Nothing yields to shelter it
From above
They say temptation will destroy our love
The never ending hunger

But I fear
I have nothing to give
I have so much to lose
Here in this lonely place
Tangled up in our embrace
There's nothing I'd like
Better than to fall
But I fear
I have nothing to give
I have so much to lose
I have nothing to give
We have so much to lose...**

Looking them all over one more time he asked, “Well, do you all think this is a mission you will all wish to undertake? If so, do you have other questions that I might answer?”

“How many have you lost?” Nadya mumbled softly.

[OOC: Feel free to insert Tremain’s response here...]
Gathering her senses, Nadya tried to save some face by repeating the question, “How many agents have you lost already in your efforts to obtain the compendium?”

[OOC: Again, Tremain’s response...]
Nadya looked at her companions around the table. Will we fare any better than those who had gone before us? Any better than my fallen brethren? Her companions seemed ready to take on the task.

“I do not like the sounds of this adventure,” the Sylvan woman spoke to her companions. “The Master Librarian speaks truth: Sendria is a dark, despairing land with its people twisted and bent towards death.” Her companions seemed to her to still be resolute.

Nadya sighed, trying to come to terms with what lay ahead, trying to see what her companions saw... their hope and determination. Maybe... we’ll need courage and cunning though... wisdom and virtue to hold us steady and steadfast... and the tightrope walk between grounded realism and hopeful optimism... She looked around at her companions once more. A slight smile came upon her lips. Perhaps...
“Okay,” Nadya spoke to Tremain, her voice more confident. “Your offer, Master Librarian, is good. But there are a few more conditions I wish to add to our terms.

“First, should any of us perish during this undertaking, the Companion’s share shall divided even amongst the others remaining.

“Second, some of us would like full access to this great library for a year, beginning immediately and will continue up to one full year after the completion of our task.

“Third, because you are sending us into Sendria, a place of darkness and twisted people, we will require, each, a new wine skin filled with this fine Sylvarii wine. A hopeful token for us to carry into the despair that is Sendria.”

[OOC: Tremain’s response...]
The Sylvan woman listened to the others chime in their intentions to complete the quest.

“I will go as well.”

...

As the meeting came to a close, Lambert spoke to the Sylvan woman.

“Nadya,” He addressed the Sylvan lass in a polite tone. “I must return to the temple to gather my things before we depart. I was summoned here from the midst of working the land; would you care to assist me in completing this before we leave?”

Nadya smiled warmly at her friend, “If your work is to be done in the morning, then I would be delighted to join you. If you are looking to complete it tonight, I am afraid I will have to decline. I also have unfinished matters to address prior to our departure.”

[OOC: Leave it here for now.... so tired...

Also **, song by Sarah McLaughlin, song title Fear.]

It was moments like these, gathered around a table with a prospective adventure that truly gave Rose an appreciation for life. Here she was surrounded by a select few she may actually admit to trusting, with opportunity not only to line her purse, but perhaps remove from the unknown a tool of great potential evil. Rose found this all terribly exciting, and as her companions spoke she listened.

The only one who had posted any ill thoughts about the mission was Nadya, and with justification. Rose knew of Sendria, having had dealings there once before, though certainly never enough time would pass by for the woman to forget the less than prosperous results of her venture into the foreboding country.

“How many have you lost?” Nadya mumbled softly.

[OOC: Feel free to insert Tremain’s response here...]

Gathering her senses, Nadya tried to save some face by repeating the question, “How many agents have you lost already in your efforts to obtain the compendium?”
[OOC: Again, Tremain’s response...]

Nadya looked at her companions around the table. Will we fare any better than those who had gone before us? Any better than my fallen brethren? Her companions seemed ready to take on the task.

“I do not like the sounds of this adventure,” the Sylvan woman spoke to her companions. “The Master Librarian speaks truth: Sendria is a dark, despairing land with its people twisted and bent towards death.” Her companions seemed to her to still be resolute. 

Rose couldn't help but share concern for her nomadic beauty of a companion. “Dwelling upon those lost in a venture only sours the purpose of the endeavour. Do not forget them, but do not let their weight burden your step. We shall need to be fleet of foot and quick of wit if we are to travel into the heart of sin. Look not to the dark of night, but to the dawn of day my dear. Should we.... nay when we succeed, every lost soul before us shall find peace when we remove this foul tomb from the clutches of its masters and bring it to safety.” Rose did her best to flash a disarming smile towards the gypsy. “And if not for the betterment of Antaron think of what song and tale will be told around the wagon wheels for generations to come.”

It was easy for Rose to spew words of comfort and encouragement, though inside she knew she was headed into a den of thieves; and this wouldn't typically bother her, save for the likely fact these thieves consorted with dark magic and demons and all sorts of foul tools to further their insatiable desires.

Maps and information, horses, wine, access to the library, insurance of complete payment even in the event of someone's death. It seemed to Rose that as usual her merry little troupe had covered the necessities.

“I'm up for the task, if only to ensure your purses aren't plucked clean before a fortnight. There are many in Sendria some would call 'my kind of people' but few I'd imagine have any morale compass lest it be plated in platinum and pointing towards lofty ambition. If we are to leave on the morrow, then we should tend to our affairs and be prepared to leave before first light. With that being said, I would like to review the maps and information you do have on the area, its history and what not before we part.”

As he quietly sat and listened as the other members of the organization and possible party members for this quest gained more information, asked for horses, wine, and access to the library. The lone Sylvari could not help quietly asking himself one question, so he decided to ask it out loud.

“Librarian you say you will pay us a total of 1,000 gold upon completion of your quest, not a petty sum. Yet you tell us others have gone to this place and have not returned did you again offer only 1,000 gold? Nadya has also asked for access to your library and wine, and that is fine for those that sit here that can make use of it. I for one have no use for your library nor do I think has Archan and possibly Rose as we are not of the scholarly types as our skills lie elsewhere other then in books.

So I ask you Librarian what’s in it for us non-scholarly types? Have you any magic within your great building of stone to help us survive this quest. Have you any items that we each may choose from to increase our skills thus granting us a greater chance to return with this item you crave so greatly, yet are unable to retrieve yourselves?”

A short pause then Crow asked again “So I ask again oh great librarian... What’s in it for the three of us.”