Tristan didn't bother to stop the smile creeping onto his face as the little one began talking the groups ears off. He'd always like gnomes. Unpredictable at best, maddening at worst, they were almost as good at mischief as halfling's were, and seemed to have twice the fun at it. And mischief was something Tristan always enjoyed.

'House Merinuk? Is our reputation growing that fast? I wonder....' Tristan was suspicious by nature, but couldn't deny his curiosity. He badly wanted to know what was going on that they needed such people as the Favored were reported to be. Sure things might go wrong. But they might go very right. You never knew until you rolled the dice. And until he smelled con, there was no reason not to go along, right? As long as the could make sure the others would keep their composure.

Waiting for any conversation to die down, he spoke with s smirk. "Well met Gymenzious! Would you mind giving us a bit of time to collect ourselves?"

(((OOC: Tristan's statement will come after any conversations the others wish to have with the pair. He's hoping to have a small and quick conference with the group.)))

The morning arrived with its usual portents - a headache, a pain in an unexpected place, and a rumble of the stomach. Just as his eyes were beginning to open, Argos burst through the door as if he owned the place.

"Mornin' Heroes!" Malachi squinted against the painful words but couldn't block out the man's spirited (and long-winded) hello. "Brought you a pick-me-up. You've got callers waitin' downstairs. Came in a few hours back 'fore sun-up, some stuffy folk from the capital. Told 'im you earned y'er rest, but the one fella seemed real eager to talk to ya'. Say, did one of you let a bunch of goats in last night?"

"Argie! Next time knock you old bugger! Ask Cal about the goats, she's the one who's got an obsession."

Malachi Williams, now recognized universally in Schell as the Argent Blade, rolled out of bed and into his daytime attire. No more the black and silver getup he wore on the mission, today felt like a good day to dress down. He felt as rumpled as the clothes, but the tray by the door went a long way toward ironing him out.

The tavern of the Dragon was exactly like he didn't remember it. Tables flipped, the raucousness of the previous night revealed but without explanation. A goat bleated somewhere beneath the floor, underlining Argie's earlier query. Breakfast was another beer, annoyment, and sausages.

Two men lay in wait for the Favored when they arrived downstairs. Mal had never cared for this kind of comedy act - a gruff straight man and a little excitable fellow telling all the jokes. He eyed them carefully between bites of sausage and draughts of beer. They seemed to have showed up much too soon to have come searching for them specifically, yet here they were, given enough description to recognize the group on sight. Nonetheless, Gym seemed to be telling the truth and was even perhaps a little starstruck. Karl, on the other hand, was trying his best to finish his bread and didn't seem interested in much else.

Snatching one of the letters from Gym's hand, Mal couldn't help thinking something about the situation seemed dicey. Still, this could be the chance to take the little spark of fame he had ignited in Schell and turn it into a blaze of glory. The myth of Fortune's Favored would start not in this little town, but in... was it Cordova? He couldn't quite remember where he had seen the name of House Merinuk before. Nonetheless! Fame seemed aimed at him like the point of an arrow.

He righted a table and pulled up a chair.

"Okay Gymmy, we're in." said The Argent Blade, utterly failing to consult his companions. "Say, d'you want me to sign one of those letters for you? You know, as a memento."

Tristan spoke from behind him in that voice that always turned Mal's mood into black squiggles. "Well met Gymenzious! Would you mind giving us a bit of time to collect ourselves?"

"What?" Malachi asked, turning to catch Tristan with a scowl.

She dreamt of the keep. Bodies strewn about haphazardly. The touch of the arcane buzzing in the tepid silence of lifelessness. Men scorched beyond recognition, or showcased in a perfect crystalline facsimile. Her blood had run as cold as the stone walls that led ever downwards. Though she had not lost her bravery, her instinct was heavily leaning towards escape. A chance encounter with a giant, and a laughable exchange with mere bandits did not a hero's handful make. Just because they could fool a town full of dirt farmers did not mean any battery of true villainy would be impressed. Though she followed the others in stride, she kept the exit on her mind always.

Jaron. Bandit lord. Master of the 'death glare'. His violet eyes bore a lasting image in the young thief's mind. With eagle like precision she honed in on them. They held her in their thrall for moments that traced an eternity. Before they were gone, glazed over like granite. An irony of the highest order, a mirror to the glare of the medusa. And what was this invader who seemed to single-handedly defeat a fortress full of bandits. Who walked up to the man with the glare of death and laughed? A tall slinking shadow, shifting in her sight, as though perpetually in motion. And his face... the most terrifying of all.
A goat! The face of goat!
*************************
"Mornin' Heroes!"

Calopee started from her disturbed slumber, shaking the mortifying images from her head, which only aided in spinning the room about this way and that. One ought not drink their weight in poison. That should be a rule, she surmised. She fussed over her newly found cloak, spoils from their latest sojourn to the bandit lord's keep. Brilliantly crafted by elven hands, and gifted with subtle enchantments. It was not meant to serve as a blanket, but in her drunken state, she had used it as a comforter, though alas, it did not serve as a dream catcher.

"Oh...did one of you let a bunch of goats in last night?"

The young halfling shuddered at the merest mention of the beasts. The memory of the tall man with the superimposed face of a goat jumped back into her mind. "I hate goats..." she muttered to herself.

"Argie! Next time knock you old bugger! Ask Cal about the goats, she's the one who's got an obsession." Blurted Malachi.

Calopee's immediate response was to grab a book that had been loosed from a shelf the night before, and toss it clean at Mal's fat head. The Argent Blade caught the assault out of the corner of his eye and dodged the blundering book, sneering all the while as it crashed into the wall behind him. Stupid ale! Blasted reflexes!

Her head had developed it's very own pulse, that seemed to be more lively than the one in her chest ever could be. She crawled over to the tray of ales and began to embalm herself with the hair of the dog that bit her, all the while doing a soft inventory of things. She hadn't made the egregious error of sleeping in her chain, and it was slumped over in the corner with her backpack. Her stones were happily fastened to her side as always. Everything seemed in order.

The ale was working its way into the churning maelstrom that was her belly on the morning after, slowly plying it's trade to her groaning mind ache. Every heavy handled footfall down the stairs to the common room was far below the graceful strides one might expect from a child like form such as hers. Her face unwittingly flushed at the sound of goats braying in the floorboards. If the gods were kind she'd never have to see the likes of one again. Alas, she feared she may continue to be one "Whom Gods Annoy!"

Ever the opportunist, the little thief took in the newest additions to the establishment. Her assessment was more cold and calculating than would do with admitting. The big man was a major threat physically, to be sure. Armed with the natural weaponry allotted to career soldier, or seasoned guard. The crossbow, a weapon that was readily usable by the inexperienced, and extremely effective in the hands of the inveterate. Many swordsmen were so prided in their martial artistry that they would rebuke the duality of a ranged option. Some would call it cowardly. Typically the tactical, the trained, and the bought would resolve to have as many tools in their belt as necessary. Even still, her eyes locked in on the softest place on that shaven skull, tracing the points in the room that might act as a ricochet point should they be face to face and fighting.

His threat was simple, however, whereas the gnome was a trifling quarry. He was pretty, she would not deny. A little blush couldn't help but grace her freckled cheeks when he made mention of her fairness. Quite the charmer, if not for his irritating chatter. Gnomes were known for two things. Their trickery, and arcane profinity. She couldn't get a sense of the silver haired affluent. There was danger in his seeming absence of danger. She looked to Sehanine for guidance, to see what the violet eyed witch might betray upon her assessment.

"Where was I...I'm Gymenzi-no I've said that. He's Kar- Oh the letters! Karl please hand me the satchel."

Calopee read over the letter, running her finger over the seal of House Merinuk. "Okay Gymmy, we're in." said The Argent Blade, utterly failing to consult his companions. "Say, d'you want me to sign one of those letters for you? You know, as a memento."

Brazen fool! Calopee roiled, wishing her glare to be as violent as the bandit lord Jaron, pre shattered statuette. Of course he'd think to speak for us all!

She was about to redirect when Tristan saved face. "Well met Gymenzious! Would you mind giving us a bit of time to collect ourselves?"

"What?" Malachi barked at Tristan.

"This isn't Mal and the Favoured!" Calopee spat back in a whisper, though likely not as subtle as intended, "You don't speak for me Silvertip."(a blatant bastardization of Argent Blade)

***Though it was very early after a long night of celebration, the truth was that this seemed to be the best prospect for work in the region. It ALSO seemed highly convenient, and she had no trust regarding "Tiny" and his handler. Calopee would await a general consensus, but wouldn't necessarily mind working jobs in Cordova with a crew.***

The swirling magic of the nocturnal fey trance set in as Sehanine retired, retracing the many lifetimes her own years had spanned. Memories overlayed memories, grounding the faery to the core of who she was. Mingled among were they events of the day past. All should have flowed past, to join the course of the river that was her long life. Yet one thing remained a moment longer, refusing to move on.

Glowing violet eyes turned grey, then as stone shattered. Beyond the terran dust, a lithe figure robed in darkness. For a moment there, then gone. Like the memories, fleeting and flowing...

It shouldn't have haunted her, but it did. Why had such a creature been sent to claim the bounty on a mere bandit? Such humble prey should have been beneath any who held that kind of power. What threads knotted beyond where she could see?

None of this should have mattered to her. Schell, Jaron, even the Favored were fleeting moments that would fade over the passage of centuries. Such should be little more than amusment, barely worth notice. Yet, Sehanine found that all this did matter, and that terrified her more than any shadow assassin ever could.

The hours of reverie flowed by until the light of dawn stirred her back into the world of the living. Still, she remained in the bed, letting the gravity of her nocturnal revelations wash over. Change and the tide of chaos had long been her dearest friends, but even she had been caught in their web in the end.

MORNIN' HEROES!

Argos' booming voice ripped the faery from her melancholic musings, a gift for which she was beyond grateful. In a century or two she might even remember him, a gift he should be incredibly honored by. Wars had been fought for less, and here she was ready to offer it to the man-bear for a mere distraction. HE SHOULD BE GROVELING! The utter lack of such prostrations did not escape Sehanine's notice. Such a slight would require a grave punishment. Her imagination jumped in response pulling together one horrific torture after another. Blistering oozing boils had a rather nice ring to it, perhaps a new boil might sprout up every time the buffoon bellowed. Or she could just drive him mad. Such a thing took time, but her kind were highly proficient in the provocations of insanity. Such would be a deliriously pleasant diversion from all her grave concerns. The thought brought a genuine smile to her lips.

"Oh... did one of you let in a bunch of goats last night?"

At the mention of the marauding goats Sehanine looked over to the deliciously deviant Calopee and winked. "I tend to steer clear of the goat stench. Perhaps it was the darling Maud... were you with her Tristan?"

Verbal daggers were improving her mood significantly. It might even turn out to be a good day. Still, the mention of visitors from the capital was somewhat sobering. They would need to be presentable. Snapping her fingers Sehanine sent fey magic to work. Fueled with the power of lemon cleaners, the charm scrubbed the Favored clean polishing away the previous days dirt. Hair was combed and armor was polished. Soon the five appeared to be the mighty heroes they claimed to be, and if the lemon scent lingered about shifty Tristan just a bit longer then all the better.

In the tavern they were greeted by the frenetic gnome Gymenzious and his taciturn partner, Karl the giant. The armored man might prove difficult if conflict arose, but he was likely the more straightforward of the two to deal with. It was the gnome that drew her attention. The diminutive creatures were sly and for a mortal race possessed remarkable arcane talents. In general Sehanine was rather fond of the mischievous folk, but this one would need to be watched closely until she had a better sense of his motives and his talents. Calopee, it seemed, had similar concerns. The halfling never ceased to impress her. Sehanine kept her arcane senses tight as the gnome performed his soliloquy, all the while maintaining the relaxed composure all had come to expect of her.

The thought of infiltrating an important merchant house intrigued her greatly. She could cause boundless heaps of trouble there, enough to entertain her for a significant amount of time. Still, there were the yipping gnome's motives and the details of the actual job to consider. Gym darling had let something slip, a bit of his plans cut off before the full revelation. It might be nothing more than economic gains, but things were rarely so simple. He would have to be watched indeed.

A bit of lovely acid roiled up as Malachi the Malignant stuffed his foot down his throat. Sehanine had no issues with the letting the man think he was in charge. If he wanted to play leader he could enjoy the bright red target that came with the job. She vastly preferred manipulation, and it seemed Mal was more than willing to oblige. Of course the rest of the party weren't so pleased with the man speaking for them. Truth be told it would likely have sent her into a harpy rage on another day, but the prospect of this new job pleased her too much to ignite her ire. In the end they would likely agree to take on House Merinuk's sensitive matter, even if just for the promise of a change of scenery.

So Sehanine waited, and let them argue out toward the inevitable conclusion. It really was the best course of action. She noted a tinge of regret at not being able to fulfill her bloody vendetta against Argos. Perhaps another day, time was not a resource she lacked.

((OOC: Cast Prestidigitation))

Master Caiste's words of wisdom echoed through his thoughts once again as he wrote in his journal, summarizing the past ten days or so that he and the Fortune's Favored passed in Schell.

"It is a bit cliché Relos, but duty, and honor in your word are of course precious virtues that you cannot treat with carte blanche. If people know you as an individual who breaks their word, their code, well then how can you get anywhere in life on the road? A wandering clergyman of Gian is seen as a good omen amongst the farmers and townsfolk that dwell in the villages you will be traveling to, so do well by them and give them nothing but a spark of hope in their faith toward Gian and your word to help those who need it."

Master Caiste, your words are pertinent for any situation I find myself in. Blessed you and your seemingly infinite wisdom.

Relos spoke quietly to himself as he continued writing. He sat at a table in the common room of The Bearded Dragon, as always rising early for prayers at dawn but also secretly hoping to be one of the first at the breakfast table for the freshest pickings. His time here at the Dragon has seen himself grow quite fond of Argos' baked breads and his penchant for serving ale with the morning meal. But the most important thing to Relos has been his morning time to himself. Up just before dawn, quietly dress and clean up, and then tip toe down stairs around whatever mess may be strewn about the bar from what most likely was a celebration of some kind the night prior.

This morning was one such time, the sun's rays illuminating his writing as he sipped an ale and listened to the quiet bleating of a goat somewhere apparently below the floor boards. Tomas slumbered from their festivities and an odd looking duo sat across the tavern from him. He intentionally chose a secluded spot for himself as once the rest of the group rose who knows what mischief and mayhem they may raise, leaving him with no peace until the next morning come.

,training of the villagers seems to be progressing, Malachi is a good person to have help show them the way of sword and spear. We've routed a few small goblin menaces from the neighboring wilds and even put some thieves and murderers to the gallows. As we've all quickly learned, justice on the frontier is harsh and swift. If you make a living praying off of the livelihood of innocence, then you shall expect retribution sooner or later. The last few days' events have me troubled though, an entire fortress wiped out by what seemed to be one man. A sorcerous battle between mages and a man turned to stone? I don't like this, and whatever trouble is brewing is far above Tomas's and his men's heads. Pray to Gian and Cutemp that whatever trouble that is, stays out of Schell,.

Relos lifted his holy symbol, a silvered circlet engraved with a negative space outline of a mighty tree, and gave it a kiss as he blessed his meal and morning.

Soon the others joined him downstairs, all five of them given word from Argos that men have paid them a visit and wanted to speak with them. He looked at the odd pair of the massive man and the gnome dressed in his city attire and it was pretty obvious to put two and two together.

They approached and spoke their part on how they ventured to find the Fortune's Favored, and how the group was a great match for what they needed. Gymenzious' fast words and fast hands was making Relos' head spin, the little man was a blur of jumbled thoughts and seemed to be keeping three conversations going all at once. Before he knew it, he was done and now the group stood with a choice to make. Almost like a scripted play Malachi, Calopee, Tristan, and Sehanine all began to go tit for tat back and forth with one another. Words and looks were traded as Relos just smiled, his odd ball group of compatriots such a far cry from the sort of folk he imagined himself traveling with when he was younger. But he loved them all none the less as they've grown together as not only just an adventuring group, but as friends also. At least in Relos' eyes they have, and he hoped they felt the same.

He spoke up after everyone either threw their thoughts forward or silently abstained.

Thank you Gymenzious, I think we may be up for something like this, but of course first we must discuss together. I know there is no lack of work around the lands of Schell but it is much safer here than a fortnight ago. We quite possibly may be available.

He turned towards the group and stepped back, taking his turn to read one of the letters that the group was handed. Lowering his voice and speaking to his companions, with one hand on the paper and the other reaching for his ale mug, he levied a question at them all.

So, what do you all think? This House Merinuk ring a bell to anyone? To be honest I haven't been to any town with more than a 2 story ale house and a wall to keep it safe. Kept to the country roads usually. But anyways, do you think the people of Schell are safe enough to leave on their own? We gave word to protect and help, I would feel awful leaving them pre maturely.

(I imagine his holy symbol as kinda like the tree of gondor. awesome looking but no leaves lol )

It took Tristan half a moment to wipe the smirk off his face. Silvertip, eh? Oh that was going to stick, one way or another. Tristan would see to it.

He smiled and continued his line of thought one Mal and Calopee finished their brief squabble. He gave the gnome his best winning smile. "If we are to go on such a journey as this, we'll need time to pack up, say farewell, what have you. Surely you wouldn't begrudge us that,would you? We shan't be long anyway."

Once they had a bit of privacy Tristan spoke to the group. He began with a quick aside to the paladin. "Relos, I do believe that Schell is as safe as she'll ever be, unless you fancy taking up residence here. With the bandits gone, and their slayer flown the coop in such a... decisive manner, there's little left for us to do. The town's fate must now rest in the people's hands, and the hand of whichever gods they pray too." An honest enough assessment, hopefully not laid on too thick. Tristan had absolutely no intention of sticking around here forever. And jobs didn't just land in your lap like this. Except for that giant.....

He spoke again, this time to Mal. "You, friend may have some skill in battle, but you will get us all killed if you continue to act so recklessly. One of us does not get to commit all the rest to a venture. Whether we march towards fortune or folly, it must not be a forced one." He tilted his head, addressing the group as a whole. "Which brings me to the real point, something that has just become urgent. We need among us a leader, to speak to those who would hire us, to bargain, accept, and reject on our behalf. Or, failing that, at least a spokesman to get us through until such things can be decided. Who among us is best suited to dealing with a noble house?"

Tristan wouldn't mind speaking for the group, though he did not relish the idea of the spotlight that would come with actually leading. Relos would be good short-term, but problematic in the long-run. Mal, annoying as he was, would be ideal, if he could roll his ego back. Sehanine was bewitching, but too obviously suspicious, though Tristan would admit to his bias there. And Calopee was a joy, but he had a hard time imagining her at the head of the favored. Still, he waited for the others' opinions, to see what they'd say before giving his own.

(((OOC:Quick and dirty planning is apparently the only way we do things here. Tristan's looking for a quick decision that will help us present a united front going into the next mission. It need not be him, and it need not be set in stone.)))

Dawn, The Bearded Dragon, Schell

"Okay Gymmy, we're in. Say, d'you want me to sign one of those letters for you? You know, as a memento."

Malachi's ever-present ego and glory seeking attitude were well known to the Favoured, but new to Gymenzious, and he took the Argent Blade's quick affirmation as if it was from the whole of the group. His eyes had an excited glimmer to them as a wide grin split his diminutive face.

"Oh excellent, excellent, EXCELLENT!" Gym turned to each of the Favoured in turn, his smiling face oblivious to their dismayed glances as they realised Malachi had essentially volunteered their services. "Master Merinuk must be notified immediately, I will send word at once...Karl! Send word at once!"

Karl looked over his shoulder reluctantly before rising with a sigh and making his way out of the Dragon. Gymenzious hardly spared him a glance as he continued.

"We will make way as soon as you're prepared. Oh glorious, glorious, glorious day." The gnome was pacing before the group, still oblivious towards the group's objections to Malachi's agreement. "Oh I will be commended quite highly for this. Perhaps elevated to my own house. House Oslatheran. GRAND House Oslatheran."

Gym continued speaking seemingly to himself as he walked about the inn. His mutterings continued as he strode out the front door, and for a brief moment there was silence that felt almost unnatural. Their respite was brief however as Argos soon bustled in, his massive frame barely squeezing through the doorway, a panicked bleating goat beneath one of his massive arms.

"Weird little fella', that one." He gestured over his shoulder to with his free arm. "Take it y'er takin' up his offer? Off to the capital are ya'?"

(OOC: I assume you're all off for the capital based on the Q&A, if you want to backpost any dealings in Schell feel free.)

*~~~~~~~~~~*


Mid-morning, The outskirts of Schell, Schell

Despite their festivities the night before, what seemed like the entirety of the town assembled to see their "heroes" off. Even Tomas had managed to rouse himself, his hungover eyes squinting in the bright sun as he thanked the group for their help. His militia stood with him, their newfound confidence obvious to anyone that looked. Not the most formidable garrison in the land but the Favoured could leave assured that Schell was far safer than when they'd arrived.

Gymenzious had procured a pair of lavish carriages, well appointed for the short trip north to the bay, and his goatee'd face popped into view in one of the lead's curtained windows, a ridiculous smile still permanently affixed to his face.

"Quite the sendoff my friends, always nice to feel appreciated, no?" A loud grunt could be heard from within the carriage. "You're right Karl, we shouldn't delay."

The carriage door opened suddenly, a set of spring loaded silver steps extending out behind it allowing Gym to make his way down to the ground. He made his way over to the Favoured.


"I hope you find these travel accommodations to your liking, slightly colloquial I know but I assure you once we reach the capital you'll be subject to the full hospitality House Merinuk has to offer. I did arrange a small signing bonus as a sign of our appreciation in the meantime, however."

Almost as if on queue Karl emerged from the lead carriage in a single step, disregarding Gym's extended staircase entirely, a crate of fine spirits in clutched in his hands.


"Four of the finest bottles of liquor that will ever grace your tongues." He lowered his voice as he eyed Argos standing just out of earshot, "Something to rinse the taste of that country ale from your palate, and provide a little effervescence along our journey. Karl! Would you help our guests with their things?"

"Gentlemen in the rear carriage and ladies...", He bowed his head slightly and extended his hand towards Calopee and Sehanine, ",would you do me the great pleasure of joining me for our short ride in the lead?"

(OOC: Regardless of where you choose Gym and Karl will be riding in the front carriage with whoever chooses to join them. Each carriage sits 4 comfortably with your gear safely stowed. 3 if you're keeping armour and weapons about so someone is riding with Gym at least. Feel free to have any level of interaction you'd like. ~2 hour journey.)

*~~~~~~~~~~*


Shortly After Noon, South shore of Cordova Bay, North of Schell

The trip had been fairly uneventful, with Gymenzious's incessant chattering (audible in either carriage) disturbing the peace. The sun had only just passed its peak as the carriages stopped along the shore and their occupants disembarked, and the clear blue sky provided a fine backdrop to the majestic sight of a large two-masted schooner anchored not far offshore. A group of nondescript sailors stood beside a pair rowboats prepared to ferry the group to the ship. Gymenzious wasted no time in merrily greeting them, making his way towards the water. Karl followed him but soon paused, turning back to look at a thick wooded glade just a little inland.

"-load their gear and we'll embark. Karl! Where are-" Gymenzious turned around, finally realising his companion wasn't behind him. "Come now Karl no time for this, what is it?"
Karl unsurprisingly grunted in response, giving another uneasy glance at the woods before shaking his head and making his way down to the boats. Gymenzious wasted no time.

"I thought not, the sooner we return home the sooner Master Merinuk will surely put us up for commendation. He'll be most excited to meet Fortune's Favoured. Most excited indeed." His attention returned to the Favoured. "Shall we, friends?"

(OOC: Boom? See Q&A)

He spoke again, this time to Mal. "You, friend may have some skill in battle, but you will get us all killed if you continue to act so recklessly. One of us does not get to commit all the rest to a venture. Whether we march towards fortune or folly, it must not be a forced one." He tilted his head, addressing the group as a whole. "Which brings me to the real point, something that has just become urgent. We need among us a leader, to speak to those who would hire us, to bargain, accept, and reject on our behalf. Or, failing that, at least a spokesman to get us through until such things can be decided. Who among us is best suited to dealing with a noble house?"
**********

Calopee pondered this turn in the conversation. She hadn't considered this specific contingency. Truth be told, she had no interest in being led. That in itself did not suggest that she would want to assume the mantle of leadership either. She could outright lie with the best of them, but that was a stones throw away from true persuasion. Plus her diminutive demeanour was not to be taken seriously. Nor would she want it to be. Lost in the crowd. Forgotten. Dismissed. That was the best path to follow. Besides, she knew that nobody could contain her in truth. From the shadow, conjured from her whims, all things were malleable.

A figurehead. Spokesperson. That was what they needed. There were two clear candidates as far as the young hafling was concerned. The fey witch, or the stoic knight. Calopee had been mightily impressed by the enchantress. Her charm, and ensorcelled persuasion was a prescient force. She could charm the pants off of any noblemen. In fact, Calopee smirked discreetly, she'd wager it was more likely than not that she had.

But Relos, he'd have both the nobleman's envy, and the noblewoman's heart. The romanticism of a knight was so righteously thither. It was likely that he would make for a much better figure head. And in truth, would likely be a might bit easier to steer. Which was good. It was hard to keep a man of faith blind amongst the baleful. Keep him distracted however, on point, for fervour, and for glory! Well, that would be an acceptable ruse.

"For what's it's worth," she began, putting in her two coppers, "I think that the best representative for our little troupe would be the honourable Relos. Nothing pleases nobility more than the fealty of a Knight."

"Gentlemen in the rear carriage and ladies...", He bowed his head slightly and extended his hand towards Calopee and Sehanine, ",would you do me the great pleasure of joining me for our short ride in the lead?"
*******

Calopee graciously accepted Gymenzious' invite into his carriage. It left her with more room, and an escape from what would otherwise be a potential need for the social niceties of discussion and planning. She had already sized up the unabashedly self absorbed little man. He would be admittedly somewhat compelling, if only he were a mute. However, his constant prattle made for the perfect excuse to zone out and begin plying her trade into polishing the latest and greatest in precious skip rocks. (Crafting Skip Rock)
***********

Karl followed him but soon paused, turning back to look at a thick wooded glade just a little inland.

"-load their gear and we'll embark. Karl! Where are-" Gymenzious turned around, finally realising his companion wasn't behind him. "Come now Karl no time for this, what is it?"

Karl unsurprisingly grunted in response, giving another uneasy glance at the woods before shaking his head and making his way down to the boats. Gymenzious wasted no time.
*******

The unmistakable sound of snapping wood resounded in the little thief's prickling ears. The hair on her neck stood at attention, and all the more alarming was the validation of her paranoia by the lumbersome giant of a man, Karl, as his attention unerringly passed into the wooden thresh of the forest beyond. The young slinger instinctively shielded herself with the hulking human wall, as she intently honed in on the unnatural crackle of nature's bed. Men blundered upon the hallowed ground of the mothers hearth. Not animals who'd sooner stray than risk the wrath of human opportunity. With a discriminating eye she hoped to sort out the mystery that set her ears ablaze, her hair a-tingling, and the behemoth askew.

"Something seems amiss!" She fairly hissed in hushed whisper to her comrades.

(Spot check in the direction of the sound.)

Gnomes tended to come in two varieties. It had little to do with location, social standing, or family lines. It was all about personality.

Gnomes were either the most interesting people you could meet, or the most maddening, certain thieving she-elves aside.

And it really said something about Gym's personality that Tristan was considering repealing that distinction. He didn't mind conversation, but he had no taste for babble. And babble Gym did on the now exceedingly long seeming journey to the ship. He'd gone along with the suggested seating arrangements, amused and a bit disappointed he wouldn't get to talk to the apparent representative of their prospective employer. Tristan remembered thinking, half an hour in, he'd get a chance to know him anyway, being able to hear him a carriage away. By the time the horses were stopped, Tristan was seriously considering tying him up and giving him to Mal for fencing practice.

As they moved to start boarding the rowboats, Tristan gazed at the ship, pondering the implications of time spent onboard with no chance of reprieve. The witch would surely attempt to kill Gym before they arrived, whether subtly with poison, or just magically flinging him off the boat. He'd have to talk to her before that happened.

Because he wanted in, by Disq.

Tristan had no idea what started it, having been busy massaging his temples and plotting elaborate murder, but he was aware enough to notice Calopee scramble behind the giant. At her harsh whisper, he drew his rapier, facing the direction that had her worried, searching for threat.

(((OOC: Spot and Listen checks in that direction.)))

Sehanine smiled, almost genuinely, as she ascended into the carraige with the verbose gnome. Lies were always more believable when you believed them just a little yourself. So she smiled and joined Gymenzious (and his flapping jaw).

The journey was made dreadfully long by an endless stream of chatter spewing from the gnome. It was surely divine intervention that kept her from silencing the diminutive speaker or at the very least filling the carriage with imaginatively obscene visions. That and the more he talked the more she learned. Goals were sobering, even for the fey, and so Sehanine encouraged him to talk more. Whenever there was a moment of silence, the faery leaned in with a silvery question. After hours of nonstop chatter, Sehanine had a much better understanding of the little man and his motivations.

Their journey ended as abruptly as it had begun and they found themselves at the shore confronted by a truly dire fate. The masted ship docked nearby portended many more hours of the gnomes shrill pontificating. Slowly, Sehanine looked over towards Gymenzious to find him berating a nearby sailor with a blast of high pitched greetings. There was little chance the gnomish diplomat would make it to the other side of the shore.

Just as the elf resigned herself to the continued torture by chatter, little Calopee saved the day, again. Quickly snapping her gaze in the direction of the halfling's warning, Sehanine peered into the wooded depths. With a word of power and the snap of her fingers fey magic swirled around her, tightening into an impenetrable web of force that traced the contours of her body. Another snap of her fingers and Sehanine vanished from sight. She would be no easy target today.

Her violet gaze penetrated the sylvan shadows, seeking movement or any other threat. Through it all, dark magic danced at her fingertips.

((OOC: Mage Armor, Invisibility, Spot Check))