Throughout Lord Bart's speech his words were frequently punctuated by the sound of a plucked violin string from the back of the room. Dylan sat at the far wall from Bart, so that his quiet tuning wouldn't disturb anyone. He plucked a string and let it vibrate undampened for a second, then moved up to the next one, then played them both. The upper one was definitely flat. He twisted the knob attached to that string so that it would be drawn tighter and started over.

It would be nice to stick around for a while, to have some place safe and warm to sleep at night, he mused. But of course, the open road is a stern mistress. She'll have me sooner or later. The D string was too sharp. Yes, though I rather think it would be nice to stick around here for a while. Good company, good food, and plenty of opportunity to earn something to pad my travels for a while. He paused for a minute, considering the prospect. I thought you had set out in the first place because you decided that the simple life didn't challenge you enough. You will never find that rapturous Song if you don't look for it. He lost himself for a wistful moment in memory of bliss. If he struggled, he could still remember the general tune of that great melody, imprinted in his mind.

Several of the others rose from their chairs to accept the cloaks from the wardrobe, which broke Dylan free of his reverie. He cursed softly, both at that and at the now over-sharpened note he was absently plucking. If you recall, he told himself, I decided to take up adventuring because it would help me discover the Song within myself, not because I expected to just find it one day. It's the danger, and the thrill, and the exploration of one's true self, that will unlock it. He smiled privatly at this one-copper description of his life. So you suppose that laying around here entertaining the visiting nobles and passing travellers will bring you excitement? Locked up snug and tight in a fort? There's no danger there. He barely finished that thought before he responded to himself. You don't really believe that, do you? This is a frontier outpost, labeled the thirteenth such, which was previously dominated by orcish and goblinoid monsters of all kinds. It's perfect With a resolution in his heart, Dylan rose to his feet. He accepted the garment with a thanks, then stepped back to put it on.

Besides, that shade of green looks good on you.

Bartholomew watched with swelling pride as member after member rose to take a cloak bearing his court’s herald. While Elendil had taken a rather abrupt leave of absence in the middle of the meeting, Bartholomew couldn’t really hold that against her. She wasn’t of their party, and as the fair skinned elf exited from view, Bart could only hope that her service to her own people would still entail breaching the gap of communication between the two lands and foster some sort of relationship.

Each of those Bartholomew had grown to think of as family rose to accept the cloak he had offered, with all but Linnix accepting it without little reservation. While Linnix proved her interest in joining the court, her own magical cloak held too much use for her to simply cast it aside. Bartholomew was no magician, in fact he held little knowledge of such things, but he did inform the lithe woman that he would look into the means to accommodate her wishes.

Talk spread from hopes for the future to more immediate gains, Xaris had posed the notion of summoning Firin, the Halfling merchant they had met on the road some time before, with a penchant of having the means for acquiring all manner of trinket or item for a price. Now, with purses lined thick with gold once more, the companions thought it wise to put some of their hard earned wealth to good use.

At his Council’s discretion, Bart removed from the inside pocket of his vest the simple looking card, handed to him by Firin. Turning it over in his hand, her read the single line written upon its surface.
“Dependable Service, Just out of sight, Tear twixt the card for your shopping delight”

Bart held the card before him and tore it in half, the two pieces of the card falling to the table in front of him with nary a sound, let alone any hinting of bound magic to the simple parchment.

A moment passed, and then another. Soon only the pacing of footsteps outside, and the plucking of Dylan’s violin were heard as those waited anxiously for something to happen. Elendil reappeared in the doorway a short time later, her eyes set with a determination, much akin to that look she had bore only a score of days earlier to aid the reclamation of this very land.

"My Lord," Elendil paused, how could she put this, coming at this time to ask to purchase a horse, but she could not rest until she had freed the mare, "there is a silver dun mare of Elven blood in the corral, I wish to purchase her."
There was an intense look on Elendil's face. It had become very important to her to rescue the mare, maybe because she was a link to home, just as Talon, whom she had raised from a hatchling, the mare was a reminder of home. Home----so far away.

Seeing as they were still waiting on Firin, Bartholomew turned his attention to Elendil, somewhat surprised by the nature of her return. “Lady Elendil, if it be a horse you seek to purchase, that certainly can be arranged, for I have seen the fine stock kept here, and know surely of the mare you speak. While Lady Bronwyn is entitled to a replacement for her own dear companion, if you wish to procure the mare, I will part with it knowing surely it goes into the finest of care.”

Rifling through some papers before him on the table, Bartholomew came across the material stockpile and cost documents for everything that ha been shipped to the former Outpost 13, on behalf of the monarchy. Running his finger down the checklist until he came across what he was looking for. Tapping his finger upon the page he looked up at Elendil. “One silver dun mare, one of her highnesses preferred stock it would seem,” Bart said with a smile. “Requisition cost, 300 gold crowns.” The mare has already been trained and bred to bare a rider, and is of pristine health and condition m’lady. If you seek to claim it, then pay merely that which it has cost the crown to give to us, and you may ride her out of here with my blessings.

Bart had barely lifted his papers once more when a crackle of energy turned into a puff of smoke and a flash of light, and there, with his feet dangling practically in Lord Bart’s lap, rump right on the table where the card pieces had fallen sat Firin, his beady little eyes shining curiously right in front of the old farmer.
The two guards in the room instantly tensed and moved for their weapons, but a raised hand from Bart quelled their advance.

Though still cloaked by an oversized hood and cowl, and still bandaged in a dressing of dirty gauze and cloth, that same chipper voice sounded in the heads of all those gathered.

“Greetings again from your merchant extraordinaire, how delightful it is to see you all again in such fine health and spirits.”

With that Firin pressed down upon the table with a small cane, and helped himself to a standing position. He turned and faced Bart and bowed almost too far, steadying himself before falling right over.

“I must commend you on your new station Lord Bartholomew of the Starspire Bastion. Already word has reached me of the Scarlet Lord, and his hopes to turn the frontier into a thriving refuge.”

Turning to face the others, and raising on bandaged hand in a wave he continued. “But you have certainly not summoned me for my idle banter and compliments, so certainly I can do wonders for a person’s confidence and ego with a plethora of morale boosting sermons. “The power of Self” By yours truly can be yours for a paltry 1 gold piece too if you’re interested, or need a pick me up.

But enough of that, What can I your humble merchant do for you?”

(Cover all wishes and wants in the q/a)

Firin and those gathered spoke at length as he produced item after item from seemingly endless pouches or pockets, satchels or chests pulled from thin air. Those items he did not immediately had, he gave word to look into, and only when he was convinced that he had satisfied every customer’s wishes to the fullest of his ability did he take his leave, giving Lord Bartholomew another card, for certainly they had spent enough to garner a free one once more, and with a bow and a telepathic smile left upon the thoughts of all gathered, he disappeared.

~*~*~

The rest of the evening passed in pleasantries, but the night was called early, as the following day would hold many new challenges.

Morning came with the sun shining bright on the cool crisp morning air. Winter would be fast arriving soon, as the last days of summer passed into fall, and preparations would need to be taken to ensure the Starspire Bastion would last it’s first season of ice and snow. Aelistae had woken up early that day, the first rays of morning sun driving away her sleep. While the light no longer burned as it once did, it still pierced her eyes stronger than those born of the surface, and chased away the darkness of her closed eyelids easier than most. Taking the opportunity to walk the grounds of the keep, the woman found mostly only the laborers and craftsmen were up at the crack of dawn, with a few militiamen patrolling for good measure. The last of the caravan’s were being loaded up to make their way south, for the season and Aelistae nearly missed the wagon laden with statues, and spare rock, being loaded up by a strong armed human lad and his dwarven artisan master.

As Aelistae approached, the two turned, and as the lad froze in place a moment, the dwarf merely slapped him in the gut with a “Dun stop loadin, I‘d like at be home ‘fer the snows touch me backside” before stepping forward to address the priestess. “What kin we do fer ya Ashi elgi*” the dwarf said spitting a viscous glob of phlegm onto the ground.
(*Ashi elgi is Dwarven for Ash Elf a pretty common Dwarf reference to drow)

Aelistae’s pride flared at the comment, but coming from the dwarf, it didn’t seem to be nearly as offending as it might have been. Biting her tongue, she approached, and struck up conversation with the Dwarf, a stonemason by the name of Garl Bronzebeard. She poked at his ancestry and reflected common dwarven insult or aggression with references to the craftsmanship of his work, making mention of certain statues, or work she could make out in the back of the wagon. Truly the workmanship was remarkable, the detail of some of the pieces, from each individual scale upon a small dragon’s back, to the flush feathers of gilded bronze layered upon an alabaster gryphon showed years of practice and training. Before they had realized it, almost an hour had passed, and as more and more people filtered out into the bailey to begin their own days work, Aelistae posed the proposition to the dwarf.

She had wanted a life-sized statue of Eilistraee commissioned, hewn and crafted from the finest obsidian stone. At first the dwarf’s face contorted into a look of incredulity. “Bah, ye’ll never find that much stone fer less than a king’s ransom,” he exclaimed; but Aelistae merely shook a small coin purse in response. “The stones too hard fer what yer wantin, it flakes when it should splinter, and cracks when it should chip!” Garl proclaimed, an obvious look of dismay upon his face doted by a thick bronze flecked beard.

Aelistae shook the bag a little harder still, the jingle of coin ringing in their ears, and went in for the killing blow. “If you don’t think it can be done master dwarf, perhaps I will take my request to the elvish masons of Silverymoon. I am told their work is perfection personified, that the stone they cut sings its own praise for being shaped by the skilled hands of those so skilled.”

The Dwarf Snorted. “Bah! Those lily-livered elgi could never top the skill of a dwarf. I’ve lived and breathed the stone that I work from ore to finished product, and I’ll not be having no wisp of a tree hugger playin craftsman be upstaging a Bronzebeard!” The Dwarf swiped the coin purse from Aelistae, opened it up and without actually emptying the contents of the pouch tested it for weight and sound, before concluding somewhere between 900 and 1000 gold pieces.

“This will git you yer stone, but it’ll cost twice more this amount to see yer statue finished.”

Aelistae could only hide the grin of satisfaction for the dwarf’s sake of dignity. “Of course master Dwarf” she said sweetly.
“Send yer payments to the Bronzebeard Smithy in Darromar, first of each month, and dun be late or I’ll have yer good name smeared to the merchant guilds from here to dales and back!” With a huff he turned, and smacked his apprentice once more. “Hurry it up, we’ve got work to do.” With that he climbed in the front of the caravan and yelled back out. “Two months time!”

~*~*~*~

Later that morning, while everyone went about their business Bart called to order his newfound court, with an invite to Bronywn as well, as Elendil had departed back to the Wealdath, likely to report to her superiors.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the time has come to secure our holdings and strike out into this world. The priorities are securing resources for the winter months, and striking relations with the nearby settlements. Scouts have been sent out in all directions, and I pose to you a trio of options for Starspire Bastions first undertakings.

First, there are the mines to the north. Securing the minerals they produce will help supplement the resources and income of this outpost, as well as provide jobs and motivation to attract new residents. From what I’ve heard, the mines are still laden with the remnants of goblinoid activity, so they will need to be flushed out and secured before any mining operations can be done.

Secondly, there is a small settlement two days ride to the east, a nomadic people who live in the shadow of the mountain calling themselves the star keepers. From what our scout could determine, these people have intuitive knowledge of the lands and legends of the areas, and it could do us some good to broker a peaceable relationship with them as they are known to be skilled trackers, hunters, and furriers. The only problem is, they are kobolds, and assumable wary of any and all outsiders. Our scout barely managed to observe them for a day or two before he was accosted by a hail of javelins and barking he could not quite understand. His report indicates that the kobolds reside on some sort of ‘holy ground’ from which they receive visions and power, but that cannot be verified.
Thirdly, and perhaps the most interesting of the three scenarios is this. I have received word from her Highness that a Caravan is being sent from Castle Tethyr, and up the Sword coast to rendezvous here. From here we are to escort it far to the east, where a third party has requested a drop off point. It’s a standard guard mission by all accounts, but the objects in transport are evidently important enough that the Queen has requested I send at least one of the “Lights of Starspire” along with it to ensure it’s safe arrival.”

Bartholomew smiled and looked at those before him letting all he said set in. “Take some time to think about it, but all three need be addressed, and while doing so I will be looking more into the personal affairs of Starspire Bastion.

Aelistae flitted like a dark shadow across the Keep. The midnight blues of her skin were now complemented fully by the clothing she wore. Her armour had been replaced by fine gossamer strands of spider silk and mithril that lay as a discarded web upon her torso. It merged so seamlessly with the dark silken blouse she wore underneath, and clung so daringly to the curves of her frame that it almost appeared as if she had woven the spidery links herself. Her boots were now of a supple, sleek leather barely a tone away from the hue of her skin.

*Bamf*

A pall of black smoke suddenly hung over where Aelistae had stood. And as for the drow woman herself, she stood peering down at it from atop the large walls that encircled the courtyard of the Keep.

A shy smile tugged at the corners of her lips. ‘The halfling was right,’ she mused, ‘the boots really do work. And for a kiss and some gold… it is a worthwhile price if they can help me…with you….’
The drow woman eyes fell to the land upon the other side of the keep as it stretched away into the distance and kissed the night sky on the horizon. It was where she longed to go. And it is where she would have gone but for the ties of friendship keeping her at Starspire Bastion.

---

Aelistae was still reflecting on her dealing with the Dwarven sculptor and stonemason when she received the summons to attend Bart’s court. The brief feelings of pride and satisfaction at the exchange with the harglukiir* master-craftsman were replaced by uncharacteristic unease. Aelistae had little idea what human customs were during such an event, and even less of an idea what Bart expected of her.

She needn’t have worried. No one seemed to find the simple hunting garb the drow woman was clad in out of place, and nor did any remark on any failure to perform some arcane ceremony. After everyone had taken their seats, Bart carefully explained the tasks he would have the ‘Lights of Starspire’ perform.

It was the third that grabbed her attention. It over-rode in her mind all other considerations – the chance to follow where her heart had already escaped to.

“I’ll go with the caravan,” she remarked, almost before the final words had left Bart’s mouth.

“I have some…matters to attend to in the Omlarundin mountains, and they lie in the east too I think,” Aelistae added a moment later, with an apologetic smile. “Maybe we can split our resources? Linnix and I could accompany this caravan, and maybe the remainder of you could explore these mines or investigate this tribe?”


OOC: * ‘Dwarven’ in Drow.

Talus returned to his seat with the new garment folded in his hands. He planned to spend a few minutes tonight thoroughly examining both the cloak and it's clasp for any hints of arcane modifications. Elendil reappeared in the doorway a short time later, her eyes set with determination and an intense look on her face.

"My Lord," Elendil started, "there is a silver dun mare of Elven blood in the corral, I wish to purchase her."

This distraction, coupled with Firin's arrival moments later, was exactly the opportunity Talus thought he was going to have to wait hours for. While everyone else was bartering, the warlock let his vision become sensitive to connections with the Weave.

Now for the cloak, and discovering what Lord Bart was trying to pull over on his court.

Nothing.

No enchantment. No transmutation. No magical signature at all.

Talus had some reevaluating to do. He made a few quick inquiries with Firin and excused himself from the council. Half the walk back to his room was spent fussing with just how the cloak sat on his shoulders.

~~~~~

As Bart was detailing the last assignment, Talus was imagining walking through the forest on the road again, the birds singing somewhere overhead in their mating rituals, and no cares other than making sure the wagon behind him gets to where ever it's going. The keep was safe, sure, but the road was peaceful.

“I’ll go with the caravan,” Aelistae offered, almost before the final words had left Bart’s mouth. “I have some…matters to attend to in the Omlarundin mountains..."

The warlock let out a longing sigh as the beams of sunlight cutting through the trees twisted into damp stalactites, the curving road into a musty cave and the distant chirping morphed into a high pitched barking echoing off the cold stone.

"Kobolds it is then. I won't be much help with the talks, since I can't speak whatever it is that yapping thing is they do, but if things go south I can definitely help blast our way back out... especially if they favor javelins and the like. I'll need some help if things actually go the way we want them to."

Addressing Aelistae, he continued, "I think it's a good idea to double up on the caravan guard. Sure, it's not just you on the way out and you'll have the company of the merchants, but we're only responsible for a fraction of their route. Any dangers the Queen wants you guarding her caravan from will still be there after the supplies are through and you're on your way back here."

"I don't believe it would be wise to clear the mines with anything but our full attention. We do not know how deep the shafts run nor if it is solely goblins that are using them for shelter. Do we even know if the mines are structurally sound?" Talus asked. As he discussed the mines, he tried to sign to Aelistae, and though his grasp of the drow silent language had progressed much in the last week, most of his focus was on ensuring his spoken lines of thought remained clear to the group. His hand gestures suffered greatly for it.

"You ... are return. No. Disembark... Say farewell."
Unfortunately, for both the warlock and the priestess, he couldn't pay enough attention to what he was saying to realize that he wasn't paying enough attention to what he was saying and almost none of the meaning actually got across.

Bartholomew watched with swelling pride as member after member rose to take a cloak bearing his court’s herald. While Elendil had taken a rather abrupt leave of absence in the middle of the meeting, Bartholomew couldn’t really hold that against her. She wasn’t of their party, and as the fair skinned elf exited from view, Bart could only hope that her service to her own people would still entail breaching the gap of communication between the two lands and foster some sort of relationship.

... A moment passed, and then another. Soon only the pacing of footsteps outside, and the plucking of Dylan’s violin were heard as those waited anxiously for something to happen. Elendil reappeared in the doorway a short time later, her eyes set with a determination, much akin to that look she had bore only a score of days earlier to aid the reclamation of this very land.

"My Lord," Elendil paused, how could she put this, coming at this time to ask to purchase a horse, but she could not rest until she had freed the mare, "there is a silver dun mare of Elven blood in the corral, I wish to purchase her." There was an intense look on Elendil's face. It had become very important to her to rescue the mare, maybe because she was a link to home, just as Talon, whom she had raised from a hatchling, the mare was a reminder of home. Home----so far away.

Seeing as they were still waiting on Firin, Bartholomew turned his attention to Elendil, somewhat surprised by the nature of her return. “Lady Elendil, if it be a horse you seek to purchase, that certainly can be arranged, for I have seen the fine stock kept here, and know surely of the mare you speak. While Lady Bronwyn is entitled to a replacement for her own dear companion, if you wish to procure the mare, I will part with it knowing surely it goes into the finest of care.”

Rifling through some papers before him on the table, Bartholomew came across the material stockpile and cost documents for everything that had been shipped to the former Outpost 13, on behalf of the monarchy. Running his finger down the checklist until he came across what he was looking for. Tapping his finger upon the page he looked up at Elendil. “One silver dun mare, one of her highnesses preferred stock it would seem,” Bart said with a smile. “Requisition cost, 300 gold crowns.” The mare has already been trained and bred to bare a rider, and is of pristine health and condition m’lady. If you seek to claim it, then pay merely that which it has cost the crown to give to us, and you may ride her out of here with my blessings.
“Thank you My Lord,” Elendil replies. “can you take her price out of the money that was awarded me?”

Assuming he agrees. After Firin arrived so abruptly and quickly gets to selling thing, Elendil waits for the others to make their purchases and then moves up to see if the remarkable halfling has an Elven saddle and bride for sale, it not she will purchase temporary common tack and grooming supplies from him, if it costs more than what she has on her, she will write a note to Lord Bartholomew to pay the merchant out of her award money.

With this done, Elendil rejoins Bronwyn. “Bronwyn I will be going out early in the morning, I have to get the evidence back to the Council as soon as possible, but I will be back. I promised to take you to the city,” she says quickly, not wanting the young mage to think she was leaving her. “If you choose not to join in Lord Bartholomew’s endeavors, I will take you on to the city.”

“Also I was just out with the horses, but I did not see too many small ones. When I reach the forests of Wealdath I will look to see if I can find you a suitable replacement for your pony.”

As the night wears down Elendil goes to Lord Bartholomew again. “Sir, I will be leaving early in the morning, I do not think the runner can carry back the box, so I will use the horse I purchased a take it back myself. If you wish to open contact with the Council, I would gladly carry a missive from you to them when I go. I will be returning even if they do not agree to me being their emissary as I am not of their forest. The reason I return is because I promised Bronwyn I would see her to the city. Though I do wish she would take your offer and stay here. She is very naïve.”

She goes on to tell Lord Bartholomew that she will be staying out with the horse so as to get a very early start in the morning, asking him to send the missive down to her before halfway between midnight and dawn, when she plans to leave.

Elendil goes to where she and Bronwyn have been sleeping and changes into a riding outfit. She will leave most of her stuff here, taking only a waterskin and trail rations for 5 days, rope and a few other things she might need. From there she goes out to the corrals and takes out a rope and goes to get the mare. She fashions a halter out of the rope and leads the mare out of the corral and off to the side by a wall, there she gathers some hay for the mare to eat and she begins to groom the mare, all the time talking to her in Elven. After a thorough grooming she gets water a bucket of grain for her, she would need the extra feed for Elendil was going to push for speed.

When the mare is content and relaxed Elendil casts her ‘speak with animals’ and asks the mare her name.

Large violet eyes turn to her. <> replied that mare. <>

Elendil spoke only a bit more to the mare before wrapping herself in her cloak and using the hay for her pillow went to sleep after the missive was delivered to her. In the wee hours of the morning Elendil woke, groomed and saddled the mare, lashed the chest to her saddlebags now filled with grain and went to the gate. Lord Bartholomew must have alerted them as to her intent to leave early for as she lead the mare to the gatehouse they open the postern gate, a gate large enough for a person or an unridden horse. Once on the road, Elendil settled into a ground covering trot, after that they cantered and then walked, as the mare walked, so did Elendil. And so they went back over the road through the Starspire Mountains. As the mare walked Talon would perch on the cantle of the saddle as they trotted and cantered, he would fly about. Elendil kept alert for the sound of any of Talon’s warning hoots.

Aelistae cocked her head as Talus spoke, a flash of mirth lighting up her violet eyes as they focused upon his fumbling fingers.

:Concerned for me?: she signed in slow, exaggerated gestures to ensure the human could follow each word. : Don’t be. I’ll be back. If only to ensure you don’t tie your fingers into a knot.:
“I will come back,” she added in spoken speech for that couldn’t interpret the movement of her fingers. “Or we will, if Linnix wishes to come. We have been through too much together, I think, for ties of friendship to be dissolved so easily.”

Linnix perched upon her chosen spot on the wall of the keep. Her apprehension and curiosity had woken her from her sleep, and she felt pensive, as she felt the morning sun's rays peek over the horizon, and the chill of the slightly crisp air.

Caera always liked the dawn. Linnix recalled, Now... why was that?
Linnix closed her eyes... trying to see the memory...

"Sis, why are you always up so early?"

Her young voice at the time shattered the relative quiet with ease; she always was louder than Caera.

"So I can see the dawn, Linnix." Caera had replied gently.

"What's special about the dawn? I thought you liked the sunset and night better."

"Sunset and dawn are very similar things." Caera had said, "But it is darkest before the dawn, which makes daybreak just a bit more special..."
Linnix opened her eyes. The sun made its way over the horizon, spreading twilight colours upon the grass, the trees, the mountains... upon everything below it. The burst of colour, where there was none before, causes Linnix to smile, now beginning to understand...

I think... I know what you meant now, Caera.
~~~

At the court Linnix spoke little, if at all. Perhaps strange, but she simply wanted to see the whole first before coming to a decision, something new for her... with a tendency to rush into things before. She was glad she waited, for at the end, Aelistae proposed that the two of them take up the guard of the caravan, to which she had no objection.

"What do you mean 'if I wish to come'?" Linnix asked, raising an eyebrow at Aelistae, "Of course I'm coming with you!"

Elendil returned to the space they had arranged their bedrolls and few personal belongs. Bronwyn did have her carefully pack alchemist lab with her.

When Elendil explained that she was leaving Bronwyn felt a pang of loss of her one friend here in this place. But she would not hold the elf woman back from doing what she had to do. She smiles, as best as she could, and said, "That's fine with me. I will see if the Lord will let me set up my lab and I can make some potions. IF I can get enough sales to make this viable, then fine, but if not I will be ready to move on with you. Goddesses bless you and keep you safe. I will look forward to your return.

Bronwyn smiles though close observation may reveal that it doesn't reach her eyes and it seem a bit uncertain quivering a bit as Bronwyn tries keep smiling.

Bronwyn prepared for sleep and climbed into her bedroll, but sleep did not come easily rather in bit and pieces. When Elendil rose early in the morning she was awake still but did not stir or say anything. What was there to day that she had not already said? Elendil moved off on stocking feet not to wake her. Bronwyn listens until she couldn't hear any more footsteps and then curled up feeling very alone.

It was later in the morning she awoke--well not that late, but later than was her normal waking hour. She had used some of her money for spell components and things she needed to make potions from the weird little merchant, Finn who had arrived so strangely in their midst. She would like to know that trick.

Bronwyn set off to find out where she might be able to set up her lab, and make arrangements for some sort of living quarters for now. Sleeping on the hard stone floor would just not do for any length of time. She heads of to the keep's kitchen. Cooks and assistants had arrived and taken over her self-appointed position she had given herself that first day. Perhaps there was still some cold porridge left over from breakfast. It was good when it got all congealed and you could cut a piece and toast in on a fork over a fire, with a bit of honey to spread on top it was a favorite of hers.

Once the kitchens she is respectful to the chief cook the Kitchen is their domain. It is always good to be on the right side of the one who ran the kitchen, be they large or small. They were the Lord or Lady of their own territory and woe to the person who did not know this to be true and treated as a servant.

Bronwyn had been taught good manners, by her grandparents and Magda. Magda said it was important for when she got her own place as a court mage. Magda had taught her as much about courts and proper courtly etiquette as magic.

Then Bronwyn went looking for Lord Bartholomew and made her request for a place at least until Elendil came back.

"Lord Bartholomew” I do really appreciate you asking me to stay. While Elendil is gone I am going to try to see if I can make this work out. I need to know I can make a living from my work.

"I will come back."
"Or we will, if Linnix wishes to come." Aelistae added. “We have been through too much together, I think, for ties of friendship to be dissolved so easily.”

Linnix raised an eyebrow at her friend, "What do you mean 'if I wish to come'?" she asked. "Of course I'm coming with you!"


"What about you Dylan? Will you accompany me to see the kobolds?" inquired the warlock. "I think you'd be..." Talus realized his choice of words and couldn't help but let out a half snorting chuckle. "Sorry. The pun wasn't intended. But I do think you'd be the best face-man for this encounter. I lack your skill in speech craft and would surely doom and chance of peaceful relations if this tribe is as hostile as reports say they are."

((Leaving space for Dylan's response))

Turning to the head of the table, Talus addressed the keep's Lord, "And what about your new mage, ah... Bron...something, has she taken your offer of a place in your court yet? I've not seen her this morning.... Already send her off on a mission needing special arcane expertise?"

His voice grew more vitriolic as he went on and he knew it. He held no ill feelings toward the girl, but Talus remembered well Bartholomew's words in extending her welcome, "Brownyn, we have not mage amongst our ranks..." and nothing raised the warlocks ire more than being overlooked or ignored now that he was actually trying to fit in with society.

Talus dropped to his seat, biting his tongue before he could escalate to yelling at either Bartholomew or Bronwyn's specter.

Bronwyn had gone out shortly after Elendil left she had beg the use of a basket form the kitchen to gather some herbs and other natural ingredients for her potions. She would make her Grandmother's sovereign ointment for cuts and scrapes and minor burns. It was not magical, but a natural compound of herbs that would at least be affordable to a more customers.

Guards now patrolled the area, not a lot but Bronwyn wouldn't go far, being uncertain about the safety of the surroundings with goblins still about. She kept her wand of Magic Missiles in her basket so she could grab it quick.

Bronwyn returned after a bit of success with some wild onions, garlic, wintergreen and bay leaf. herbs equally good for cooking as for her ointments. She spotted some of the others, who had taken up Lord Bart's invitation, the drow, the human girl, and the two men but not the gnome were all together. They had all accepted the invitation toi Lord Bart's Order of the Sacred Rose.

Bronwyn lifter her hand in greeting and waved to them hoping to get a chance to get to know them better but they seemed to be very focused on whatever they were doing and saying. Bronwyn waited for a moment but then Bronwyn let her hand drop a bit self-consciously to the basket as if that is what she meant to do the whole time.

They must be very busy, Bronwyn thought as she moved on by. Still she did offer them a shy smile and a nod as she headed towards the kitchens. She couldn't help but think that they were talking about which one of those missions Lord Bart spoke of last night they might undertake.

"Smiles are free to give, Bron." her Grandmother always told her, "They don't cost you a thing and bring rich rewards."

Bronwyn's life quickly fell into a routine in the following days. Once she got a place to set up her lab she spent most of her time making scrolls potions, and other small useful items that could be of useful and not too expensive. She was mostly prompt getting to breakfast, lunch and dinner because that was only polite.

Very day Bronwyn walked out to Buttercup’s grave usually early in the morning before breakfast though sometimes it was in the evening. She spent the rest of her time divided into studying magic and perfecting her craft as well and making spells potions and other small items that were not too expensive and therefore more affordable. When studying she was frequently outdoors if the weather was good and the sun bright. She had a smile for everyone.

At breakfast the next day Bronwyn has a good morning for wall those gathered at the table for the morning meal. She mostly wears divided skirts and a tunic top and a long vest with many pockets.

“Good morning, it looks like it is going to be a nice day today. I was wondering if any of you use scrolls or potions and if so which ones benefit you the most.

The warlock wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he looks up from his bowl. "Yeah..." Pausing, he sized up the girl again.

Don't be mad at her. She couldn't have planned on edging you out of the group. It's Bart's prejudices that you need focus on, not this pretty little thing.
"Really, any scrolls you want to part with I could put to use. I've a way with magic that seems to disregard conventional limitations. Arcane, divine... doesn't matter.

"Hey, listen, you... you should..." Talus had no idea where he was going to say. You should go home? Leave me alone and stay out of my business?

Not her fault.
"You should join us for breakfast." He finished, motioning at the table.

"Oh, Thank you, I should like to join you if I may? I am glad someone uses magic around here. There doesnot seem to be much call for my services it seems. That is why I told Lord Bart I would only give staying her a try. if I can't make a living from the rea I will hav eto move on again."

After Bronwyn's greeting and acceptance she grew quite. A unhappy thought crossed Bronwyn's mind and it crossed her face though she ws unaware of it. Thr thought of mocind on brought the realization, Buttercup would be here and she would be somewhere else. It made her sad, but she realized it would be the way it was. She knew she had some talent for magic and sometime, somewhere she would eventually find a place.

Suddenly she realized she had not been paying attention. "I cannot make divine scrolls, but I can make arcane spells and potions. I might be able to give you a discount on them. I am sorry I can't afford to just give them away.
I have no access to divine school or but I can make arcane potions and scrolls."

Bronwyn hopped he understood, that she couldn't just give scrolls and potions away, the were expensive to make in time and effort. What sort of scrolls or potions could you use.?." she responded brightly. to the young man

"I am sorry Would you give me you name again. I amnot sure what yours is."

"The name's Talus." The warlock said, returning to his bowl. Last night's stew wasn't the best to begin with, and the overnight stay in the kettle and reheating it this morning definitely hadn't improved its flavor, but it was still better than the trail rations he normally subsisted on.

"I don't know that I'm in the market right now, just that I am capable of using any scrolls you come up with."

Bronwyn saw Talus's disconsolate stare at his bowl of cold stew. "Don't eat that nsty cold ste," she said taking the bowl from in front of him.

"There is fresh porridge in the kitchen, there no fresh fruit yet but they have some chopped dried fruit, a pot of honey and fresh cream. THe dairy cows were brought wiht the last shippment of goods. Let me get you a bowl," Bronwyn offered "Here you take mine I be right back and she hurried off to the kitchen to get another bowl of fresh porridge.

Returning to the table she set down a tray with a napkin over the top of a bowl a bowl of dried fruit, a small pitcher of cream and a pot of honey.

"Here you go," Bronwyn says cheerflly as she set the tray fown in front of Talus.