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Chapter One: The Road of Kings

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Kaerri's Man. =)
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<p>


High above the rich wilderness, the sun begins its slow decline into dusk, bathing the trees and their restless leaves and all things below in a soft and ominous red glow. The wind travels through the forest, moaning like a living thing as it passes over rustling branches and wild grass. Not far to your south lies the road to the old and proud human city of Summerset with its great herds of horses, ceaseless political intrigue, and spire-topped citadels. Therein lies safety for the civilized person, provided they have coin or prestige. But out here in the thick of the wild, the only sign of civilization is the wide, ragged trail that leads south to north. <em>Far</em> north. For this is the fabled Road of Kings and it leads straight as an arrow to the young and troubled kingdom of Highwind. You have heard in the taverns and from bards in Summerset that the Road of Kings is named aptly, for the very spot on which you stand has ever been the deciding point for many. Who will venture north to Highwind where the only company for many miles is a treacherous wilderness filled with odd and unkind denizens? And who will instead travel south to the soft safety of Summerset? Those high walls surrounding that city-among-the-valleys keep many a soul in the trappings of comfort and splendor. The choice is open for every man and woman - the soft life or the hard? Some press on while others turn back. You have heard the rumors while you were in Summerset. They say the Road of Kings will help you find the king inside of yourself, should you be brave enough make the journey. The two-week-by-horse journey. And there is little business for adventurers like yourselves in the golden kingdom to the south. How can adventurers make a living when the best news of adventures is greedily kept and sold at high prices among the cunning and the privileged? Nowadays you have to <em>pay</em> the page who gives out adventuring news! And well, if you want the best missions... You had many adventures in and out of Summerset and her surrounding lands, but now the well has run dry for you and heroes like you. And it is here at the Road of Kings where our tale together begins... "Look, lads! More 'fine heroes' come to make the journey! I wonder who they think will protect them? Ha ha ha!" This comes from a young bearded man, one of many clad in bright hauberks over suits of chain mail with sharp weapons on their hips. Mercenaries. All of them. And how they point and laugh at you as your party approaches. Yet the more than two score of them are not your goal but the wide and long caravan they protect. It is made up of ten beautiful wagons and double that many horses, all well-made and maintained, with the blue and gold banner of the bear-trap before them. You recognize the banner of Balil the Rich, one of the proudest and most successful merchants out of Summerset. That fat, selfish profiteer has made his share of mithril coins trading in anything anyone wants. And now he has something <em>you </em>want: <em>Work</em>. Yet the mercenaries wearing his symbol upon their hauberks pay you no respect. "Hey pretty girl, you're going the wrong way," one jeers at Luna the Fire Wizard. "The brothel is back in Summerset!" Laughter among the men erupts. Another aims a keen halberd at Kitrin Kittenpaw and chuckles. "Oh, so sorry wittle fighter! Don't you belong in the circus with the rest of the freaks? Ho ho ho!" And his burly fellows crack up and clap the caller on the shoulder. Yet another of their surly group decides to join in on the fun. He shouts at Bronze. "Oh, you there! Ugly fellow! Are you a blacksmith with those hammers on your belt? Well, how about you <em>fix your party?</em> Ha ha haaaa!" Oh, and do the laughs rise when he says that. Yet... you know it is best to pay these fools no heed. For they work for Balil the Rich and guard his caravan. And it is Balil's request that brings all of you here. <em>"Hear ye, hear ye!</em><strong>" </strong>The scroll you were lucky to collect in Summerset reads. <em>"Balil the Rich has adventuring work! 1,000 gold pieces to each guard who helps Bilal's Grand Caravan make the trip to Highwind! Food provided, but safety is unpromised, so bring your own gear and protection! Payment provided when the caravan reaches the front gate at Highwind. Meet at the Road of Kings at sunset or be left behind in the dust!" </em>Which is what your party might be eating eventually if they do not find work... So here you are... However, there is the certain taint of warning in the air about the Road of Kings, a taint only the experienced adventurer like yourself can detect and perhaps heed. Each of you get the feeling that Balil's Grand Caravan with its many wondrous wares and creatures <em>will</em> come upon serious trouble on the way to Highwind. And the mercenaries seem unaware of this. And as for Highwind? News says there is a war happening there... a war for adventurers to make their name or end it. Bilal's huge wagon-of-wagons lies a short distance before you, surrounded by his mercenaries and the caravan workers. Which way will you go on the Road of Kings?


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Luna does her best to ignore the catcalls and jeers of the mercs as the party rides up, but can feel the color rise in her cheeks. Any response will just be fuel for the fire. No need to make the whole scene worse. She guides her roan horse past the obnoxious men and slips out of the saddle, directing her attention to Otiorin. Since he seems to be the most outgoing of the party, she wonders what delightful quips he has in store for the ill-mannered men.


"Sparkle, do you wish to stay out here, or come inside with us to meet this Bilal fellow?" With as much experience as the little pseudo-dragon has, Luna doesn't treat her like most wizards treat their familiars; more like an equal instead of a servant.

Current memorized spells:


Cantrips: Ray of Frost, Mage Hand, Read Magic, Detect Magic


Level 1: Mage Armor, Shield x2, Gravity Bow, Burning Hands


Level 2: Mirror Image, Scorching Ray x3


Level 3: Fireball x2, Displacement
 
With movements that tell of familiarity and expertise, Sparkle coils and winds into the folds of Luna's robe if there is room, or the saddle bag on the roan if there is not. Her sleek, leathery form is there one moment, then it blends chameleon-like into its surroundings and is gone as she tucks her deadly tail under her. She watches the enormous wagon of Bilal the Rich for long moments before replying. "I trust these wagons even less than the armored fools who guard it, Pyri," she uses her draconic term of endearment for Luna meaning "Ember".


A moment later, Sparkle's voice is soft and clear inside Luna's mind. "There is something... off... about this caravan. My instincts tell me to remain with open ears and wide eyes, but I know not why. You, I think, should remain cautious. And not just in case one of those fools tries to put his hand around your waist - for which I will be inclined to remove his thumb with my teeth! Brothel, indeed... What nerve!"
 
Kitrin glares at the stupid, prejudicial mercenaries. Her day had been going so well before those idiots opened their mouths! Bad enough they don't think she can be a "real" fighter. It's been said before, and will be again (though being called a freak is new, and probably more than enough to cause the upcoming reaction). But to insult her friends, too? She sits up straight in her saddle, her eyes begin to narrow, and her mouth tightens to a mere line - her party would recognize the warning signs and know that Kitrin is about to challenge someone to "compare fighting prowess" (calling it a "duel" means you admit they have honor worth mentioning).
 
As much fun as it would be to see the fools be put in their place by the boisterous halfling, Luna suspects that it will not end well, especially after the warning from Sparkle. She reaches out and gently rests her hand on Kitrin's shoulder and gives a barely perceptible shake of her head. Murmuring quietly, she says, "Don't let them get the best of you. Sparkle tells me that she feels something is off about this caravan, and I have learned to trust her instincts. Lets keep our eyes open, hope for the best but expect the worst. That way, we will be prepared."
 
Kitrin glares at the mercenaries some more, then sighs and shakes her head. "I guess you're right. Sure would be nice to give 'em whatfor, though. Sorry for almost getting us in trouble again." She brightens as a sudden thought hits her. "And if something does happen, it'll be better if they underestimate us!" Back into her happy mood again, she looks around for that Balil guy that they're hoping to hire on with.
 
In the same quiet voice, Luna says, "I feel your pain, my friend. I would love to shove a Ray of Fire up their collective asses, but now is not the time. Let us show our potential employer that we are the better people."
 
Otiorin yawned and stretched, almost ignorant of the words of the mercenaries. He rolled lightly from the saddle, then strolled over to them, whistling a light tune. As he confronted the mercenaries who had barked the insults at Luna and Kitrin, he placed a hand on each of their chests and spoke in his smooth Elven tongue, "<<O thou who art possessed of the tongue of an ass, the reek of the soil of a yak and the brain of a mollusc, mayhap my words in unfamiliar tongue might teach thee respect.>>"


He smiled as he removed his hands from them and looked at them, "I have placed conditional curses upon you both. Great misfortune shall befall you should you ever speak or act ill toward me or my comrades. This curse will lift at the next full moon, so long as you run naked beneath the light of the moon. Harm me in any way, and the curse shall become a death-curse, such that only the Elves may bestow. Should that happen, you shall be marked such that every beast with teeth shall hunger for your flesh and every root in the road shall rise to trip you and impede your progress."


He stepped back, a mischievous grin on his face.

Attempting to Bluff the mercenaries with a +6 to my test roll.


[dice]273[/dice]
 
"Now that'd be a story..." the ranger murmurs to himself, outside of anyone's hearing range except Luna's and Kittrin's since he had just dismounted next to them. He pets his mare and gives the duo a brief look of encouragement before searching the sky. The falconry gauntlet fastened to his left arm was unoccupied.
 
As the half-elven Otiorin approaches the mercenaries, they stare at him and warn each other. "That's an elf." "Aye, but what's he got?" "Who cares..." It quickly becomes clear that these men are not foolish enough to let an adventuring stranger they recently insulted just walk up and touch them. As Otiorin begins to enter melee distance to touch his intended target, several of the mercenaries back up, unsure but very wary with narrowed eyes and scowls.


Then one of their number stands his ground and levels his sharp halberd just before Otiorin's chest and growls, "Just try it, elf. I dare you."
 
Otiorin's grin widens, even as he lowers his head slightly.


"I see you are not entirely without your wits, mortals.", he smiled calmly, cleaning under a fingernail with the point of the halberd, "So I assume that you know what fate befalls those who dare to strike down an Elf who comes in peace?"


He left the question hanging, intentionally. All the better if their fervid imaginations ran amok in their heads. He looked each man eye-to-eye, his grin a confident, defiant crescent of perfect teeth in an immaculate face.

Attempting to continue to Bluff, +6 to roll


[dice]284[/dice]
 
Kitrin sighs and mutters to those next to her (namely Leonard and Luna). "So not fair. Dibs on the big-mouthed one if Otiorin manages to start a real fight." Dismounting to stand near and slightly in front of her non-melee-combatant friends, she loosens her flail in its sheathe (trying to be discreet about it) and makes a show of adjusting the straps on her shield (actually preparing to quickly pull it on in case Otiorin needs backup).
 
"Somehow I doubt you 'come in peace', long-ear!" This burly mercenary gives Otiorin a poke with the halberd blade. "It is daisy-plucking, skinny, little-"


"Grimdell!" One of the mercenaries shouts and points toward your group.


The man holding the halberd quickly glances to his comrade and then to the source of his warning. And he is pointing at Kitrin Kittenpaw adjusting her shield on her powerful arm. However, both fools and the overconfident tend to be blind to such hints of power.


"O-ho, by the Saint! Look at this, will you, lads?" Grimdell stares back at Otiorin with an expression both fierce and incredulous. "Is that little girl here to protect you, elf? That is your idea of a front line?" This causes a few bursts of laughter from Grimdell and a few of the mercenaries, but not only them - two other groups that appear to be would-be adventuring teams are coming up to see the commotion. And more of the mercenaries as well, a total of twelve out of their two score are now present. Behind them, Bilal the Rich's massive six-wheeled wagon looms, with eight brown-maned gorgeous Clydesdale-sized horses there ready to pull at a moment's notice.


Everyone in your party except for Kitrin notices that there, on the wagoneer's cushioned perch, wielding a fine brass trumpet, is another human man now taking acute note of the scene. He is of average height and build and wearing a fine traveling outfit of light furs and hide topped with a cap made mostly of odd, orange feathers. He appears more worried by the moment. The mercenaries do not appear to have taken notice of him.


High above the action, a falcon glides with feathers glowing a soft red from the rays of sunset. The falcon does not appear to have an interest in landing just yet with all of the yelling and gathering going on.
 
Luna glares at the men, her eyes blazing. "If you have a problem with one of our number, you have a problem with all of us. I suggest you back off before you learn just how badly outclassed you are." She shifts her position to free up her crossbow and to open up some space, but if the fight really starts, she plans on throwing down with some serious magic. Actually, it sounds like a good time for Mage Armor right now. With that thought, she invokes her mystic protection, glad that it lasts for hours. "Don't make me have to educate you; you won't like the results!"

Current memorized spells:


Cantrips: Ray of Frost, Mage Hand, Read Magic, Detect Magic


Level 1: Shield x2, Gravity Bow, Burning Hands


Level 2: Mirror Image, Scorching Ray x3


Level 3: Fireball x2, Displacement


Force Missile x8
 
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Wolf knew the commotion was keeping his falcon at bay, but it didn't bother him. He was just glad to spot him. Come to think of it, the bird was probably better positioned where it was.


"I suppose asking for the man was out of the question?" he asks, moving up to stand just behind Luna and Kittrin. "Alright then. I'm game." He seized his longbow with the left hand, but didn't reach for an arrow just yet. He was ready to do so on a moment's notice, however.
 
A few of the mercenaries see Luna cast her spell and they react with wide eyes and hands near weapons and on shields for those that have them.


"You educate us?" Grimdell roars and sneers from behind his short black beard, "How about you start with mathematics, wench? Let's see - there are a handful of you, and there are forty of us and none among them are recruits." He raises his halberd high before returning it to its former position. "And Grimdell's Guardians fight as one!" To this, the mercenaries reply mightily. "Ho!" Then they drop into fighting stances, though not a weapon besides Grimdell's is yet drawn, there is much movement nearby. Evidently, with that yell, the rest of the mercenaries begin to join their brethren.


"Now who is outclassed?"


At this point, the worried-looking fellow on Balil the Rich's wagon begins waving his hands frantically and shaking his head, "NOOOO!" to the mercenaries, most of whom are not even facing him. He starts jumping up and down, and then his cap falls off to display a head bald save for two streaks of white hair about his wrinkled features. He holds one finger to his lips. "Shhhhh!!" he pleads, but he may as well be invisible, such is the focus of most on the commotion between you and Grimdell's Guardians. Finally, the fellow looks sadly down at his trumpet, he sets it down, and then begins staring at the scene and biting his nails. Below him and about the caravan, the crowd of would-be adventurers and caravan staff thickens with watchers, some placing bets.


Grimdell snarls at Luna and then at Otiorin. "Bilal the Rich only hires the best! And that's who we are! After we are done with your lot, there won't enough left of you to reco-"


Then a soft female voice full of clarity and purpose cuts in. "Oh my gosh! Stop it! Can't you see what you're doing?" Grimdell and some of the mercenaries turn and look to the source and their faces fall in surprise when they see who it is.


A young human woman with long brown hair wearing a practical-looking traveling robe of deep browns and rich whites approaches Grimdell and Otiorin. She is pretty and undecorated by jewelry or fine things save for a single ring. There is something about her that speaks of a harmless yet strong nature, and as she passes the mercenaries, most of them shut their mouths and share a new look that you have not seen them show before - one of shame.


Without hurrying, she walks right up to the halberd pointing at Otiorin's chest. She stares at it like it is the most insane thing she has ever beheld. Then she follows its wooden shaft to its proud wielder. She speaks without harshness or accusation; her tone is instead filled with sincerity and concern. "Mister Grimdell? Isn't your duty to protect Bilal from danger when we leave tonight? You don't really believe you and your men will step away from this encounter unscathed, do you? Please don't hurt anyone."


The rage in Grimdell's face shows and he starts to snarl at her and... then it is as if he simply can't bring himself to snarl at her. He stares at her for a moment, and tries again, and fails just as swiftly. His face low, the best Grimdell can offer is a muttered, "Don't you tell me my duty..."


The young woman turns to Otiorin, her robe softly whirling at her feet. She studies him for but a moment, and then those soft brown eyes widen in surprise. She gasps softly. And her reaction is clear to Otiorin - She is not ignorant like the average human - she knows you to be a half-elf! Not that this is difficult to tell if you know what to look for, but most humans (even some adventurers) in these parts have no idea.


"Oh my..." she whispers as she stares at Otiorin's features. Then she takes a slow breath and addresses him. "Sir, if you engage in battle here, only the monsters of the forest before us will win. There are gnolls and bandits who knows what else. Will you begin the Road of Kings whole instead of broken?" Then in perfect Elven with a slight Wood Elven accent, she adds, "Where lies the path to wisdom, sir?"


Many of Grimdell's Guardians look back and forth from Grimdell to the peaceful speaker. He voices no answer, but it is clear - he will not fight you now unless he absolutely has to. Then, at that moment, one of the mercenaries looks at Wolf and his longbow and says, "Hey, fella! You try to pull that bow and harm her, I swear to Pelor I will-"


"Stop!"





The burly young mercenary turns right to the peaceful speaker. And he thinks a moment. Then he bows his head and says to Wolf, "I am sorry..."


And it is in that moment that the peaceful speaker studies to the mercenary. And then you discover she has a very sweet smile.
 
Luna continues to stand ready for combat, secure in the knowledge that her magic is one hell of an excellent equalizer. After a few well placed Fireballs, these mercs will be singing a different tune.
 
Kitrin grins at her companions. "Think we got a new friend there, huh? I want to know who she is. Maybe she knows where our hopefully-soon-to-be boss is." She hangs her shield on her pony's saddle. Leaving pony and shield with Luna and Wolf, she walks towards the nice young woman, arms peaceably at her side, hands open and just a bit away from her body - obviously she doesn't want to get the same scolding the others have.
 
The ranger puts the bow away, replacing it behind his back without a word. He steps out as if to follow the halfling, but doesn't go the whole distance. He doesn't need to.


"Humans are not the kind of quarry I'm after!" he shouts. "I'm here for different game; of the kind that gets bandits and gnolls alike fleeing with tails between their legs! And I believe this caravan is going that way. If so, you'll want to take me and my companions with you. Just for good measure." Saying the last sentence he returned a faint smile to the peaceful lady.
 
The peaceful lady claps and nods excitedly at Wolf's words. She turns to Grimdell, pushing his halberd earthward. "See, Mister Grimdell? That's the kind of spirit that will see us safely to Highwind! Be rude to each other if you must, but not to able strangers who can aid you! Besides... evil desires discord between otherwise harmonious people - is up to us to be strong and defy such feelings."





Grimdell stares back at her, confused but also curious. Finally he sighs and says, "All right. There is wisdom in your words. I will try."


She gasps and beams at him. "Do you really mean it?"


"Yes, yes..."


"Oh, I am so proud of you, Mister Grimdell!" And with that, she suddenly rushes up to him with wide open arms as the two score mercenaries all watch with widening eyes.


Grimdell raises his arm, "No, No, NO! Don't hug me in front of my me-"


*whump*


"AAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!" The mercenaries and even some of the would-be adventurers and caravan staff sound as one.


Some of the mercenaries point and cautiously chuckle, some openly gawk in disbelief at the sight of this little beauty hugging their fearless leader. None of them are ready for this.


"HA HA HA HA!" "I would have payed a week's salary to see this! Nay, two weeks!" "By the Saint, would you look at that?!"


"I can't believe it!" One exclaims. "Our beloved captain has a sweet and sensitive side after all!"


Oh, and then how the mercenaries dig into him! They mockingly hug each other, pointing at the captain while wiping feigned tears from their faces. Some of them clasp their hands and give expressions of girlish admiration. It is a wonder the captain does not spontaneously combust from embarrassment.


Instead Captain Grimdell of Grimdell's Guardians can only grit his teeth, smile, and mutter slowly, "You bastards... You putrid sons of whores... I swear I will kill every last one of you." Still, he returns her hug with his free hand. A moment later, he disengages while the peaceful lady openly admires him with a bright smile and clasped hands. And is it your imagination, or is the captain of mercenaries blushing?


"Thank you, Mister Grimdell!" she says.


"Oh, yes! Thank you, Mister Grimdell!" Half a dozen men chime with their hands clasped. The captain just clenches his fist at them and quietly chuckles, his eyes smoldering, but not with anger.


Seeing Kitrin approaching, the peaceful speaker turns as if to meet her, but is stopped by four of the six mercenaries who were involved in the beginning of this conflict. Despite the good times, they look worried. One, a young fellow with a thick brown beard addresses her. "Eh, excuse me, my lady? Ah... Could you help us?"


"Oh no.... More brawling? When are you going to learn?" she replies, looking in a surprised sort of way at their apparently healthy bodies.


"No, no... we've been good. It's ah... That elf. Tell me. What do you know of Elven curses?"


"Elven curses? Whatever do you mean?"


"Well, uh, do you have anything that could... uh... cure a death-curse? Uh, one that otherwise involves running naked-"


"Oh dear!"


"-under the light of the naked moon. Uh, what else did he say?"


Another mercenary joins him. "Well, miss. You see... every beast in our road and every tree in our way will rise up and smack us with roots or something if something conditional happens-"


"Fool! You're messing it up! My good lady, it's an Elven death-curse! Can you help us? Please?"


Hearing all this, the peaceful young lady takes on a blank expression of surprise as if her mind if moving as quickly as it can to find a remedy. Then, almost as if drawn by magic, she turns and looks straight at Otiorin. She mouths the words in Elven, "They believe this? Did you really?"


The mercenaries rush up to her side seeing her mouthing something. "What?! What is it?" "It's incurable, isn't it?" "Damn the stars!" "What must we do, good lady?! Please save us!" The entire time, the peaceful lady stares squarely at Otiorin, her lips tight as she tries so very hard not to burst out laughing. Her expression to Otiorin says it all: "Oh, you are just awful!" The mercenaries continue their pleading until finally the dam bursts. The most delightful sound of high-pitched laughter fills the air as she slaps her thighs at the completely confused men.


"'Save you?' You sillies! Don't you realize when you've been had?"


All four of their faces drop like rocks tossed off a tower. Then they make towards Otiorin with clenched fists, but their journey is stopped short when Captain Grimdell appears behind them. Oh, and that grin of his has returned. His shouts can be heard long and far.


"And where do you think you're going, sweethearts? Laugh at me, will you?" He points at the ground. "Guardians! On your faces!" This produces a camp-wide groan of horror and complaints from the mercenaries, all of whom are in full armor, wearing their weapons. Some have full packs on their backs.


"Push 'em out! Right here! Right now! Squad leaders included!"


The men collectively groan and drop though some of them seem to have known this was coming.


"'Sweet and sensitive,' am I, Hawkthorne?" Grimdell says with his boot on the back of the man's head, keeping his face square in the dirt as he performs his push-ups in full chain mail.


"Glrrgh mrphgll, glrrgh!"


"What was that? You think I'm cute? You think I'm pretty?"


"Shrr, nugfff, shrr!"


"That's what I thought you said! After we're done, I want clean uniforms on every one of you before we set out! Squad masters! Inspection in 10 minutes!"


The peaceful lady immediately disengages herself from the forty straining men, some of whom are crying.


As she approaches, she watches the wagons as if searching them with her eyes. But as she meets your party, she bows slightly from the waist. Now that she is before you, you see she is quite cute as she studies each of you. The positive energy about her can almost be felt. "Hi, hi!" she says. "Are you traveling on the Road of Kings too?"


That is when hits all of you.


"Issss that what I think it is?" Sparkle stares at the peaceful lady. And your experiences confirm it: She is wearing the brown/white raiment of a Ko monk. No holy symbol adorns her pretty neck, and the fabric of her robe seems silky-soft yet protective (woven using methods only they know). The Ko monks of the Phoenix Monastery are an open-hearted yet secretive people surrounded both in mystery and in legend. It is said they hardly ever travel from their mystical mountain home (a place they say none can find by chance) except to explore and learn from civilizations outside their sacred culture. They keep very much to themselves. They are a good-hearted people with an almost child-like curiosity (they say they don't use monetary currency among each other). Above all, their path to enlightenment is everything they are. Perhaps because of this path, or so rumor has it, they hardly ever lie.


But Luna and Sparkle's studies and experience surpasses the tales. They most certainly do avoid lies. You two have learned that Ko monks travel in groups - never alone - and their wisdom is greatly valued even among wizards and kings, for they often see things as they are. It is said that the Ko monks have members of nearly every race on Sharseya (halfling monks, Wemic monks, even Elves), but mostly they are human, with features most folks on this side of Sharseya do not have. This peaceful lady, for example, has very tanned, smooth, and healthy skin for someone raised in the wintry north supposedly not far from Highwind (the one city in the world they are known to visit). It is also said that they have powerful enemies, and the means to deal with them. Even one Ko fighting monk can be a powerful foe against the wicked. And they follow a code only they know.


But this peaceful lady? A fighting monk of the Ko? When everything about her speaks of complete harmlessness and peace?
 
"Um, yes, M'lady. I am Luna Kaftan, and we are here at the invite of the caravan master." She shows the letter of introduction that they have. "These are my companions, Wolf, Otiorin, Kitrin, and this is Sparkle. Are you truly a monk of the Ko, and are you traveling with us? If so, I will look forward to learning more about you as we journey."
 
Kitrin waves when Luna mentions her name, but is otherwise busy in her attempts to heroically not laugh at the exercising mercenaries and their embarrassed leader.
 
"My, are you learned! Yes I am, Miss Kaftan. The Ko monastery is ever the home of my heart." Then the peaceful monk performs a slow bow from her waist - a greeting to your entire group in one graceful movement. Those who count themselves among the perceptive notice that she does not take her eyes off the group during the bow. "Um, but travel with you? Whatever do you mean?"


About this time a pair of representatives from the other two adventuring groups approach just outside of your group. Upon hearing her speak those words, they get these disappointed looks that seem to say, "Damn! They asked her first! What if she says 'yes?'"


Then the Ko monk addresses each of you as if trying to practice her manners.


She looks Luna up and down, but not in the way most others do. "Miss Kaftan, your robe is so pretty! And you look wonderful in it! I think I'm envious!" She looks right past Sparkle who remains hidden from sight using methods only pseudo-dragons know.


She examines Wolf with naked curiosity. "Wolf? Um..." she thinks for a moment then says, "soft sun and fair skies to you, Mister Wolf Woodsman sir." Then she says to herself, "Oh, I know I goofed that one. Sorry!" Then she glances at his forearm. "Oooh, is that a hunting bird's brace?"


Then she returns her attention to Otiorin and giggles. "And you! You're a complete scoundrel!" She says it as if it were simply a fact worth saying aloud. "Oh-tee-oh-rin?"


When she turns to greet Kitrin, the first thing she does is squat down to be as close to Kitrin's eye level as she can. "Hi-hi, strong-looking hobbit-person! I've already forgotten your name, though. Please forgive me for asking what it is? Wait. Are you Sparkle?"


Right then, everyone in the party hears Sparkle's voice in their minds. She does this sometimes when she wishes to warn you in a quick and silent fashion. Listen. Whatever she tells all of you, this is a Ko monk of Phoenix Mountain. But she is not a fighter... By Grimauldin's lava breath, I could swear she lacks the very spirit to cause another harm. Which leaves the unspoken question - what does a fighting monk do if not fight?
 
Kitrin laughs. "No, no. Sparkle's Luna's familiar. I'm Kitrin Kittenpaw, at your service! Especially if you're traveling the road, with the caravan - we came hoping to sign on, y' see. Maybe not the best first impression but hopefully the boss-man missed it?" Kitrin, not being one of the more perceptive members of the group, still hasn't seen the bald guy on the wagon yet. Just as well really...
 
"Oh! Um, I am at your service too, I think!" She smiles and looks up at Luna as if looking for a little someone on her shoulder or thereabouts. Finding no one, she scratches her head and replies, "You wouldn't be related to Meri Kittenpaw the retired bard, would you? She plays such wonderful songs!"


Then she thinks a moment before standing to her full height of about five and a half feet. She looks to everyone in your team. "You seem like decent people overall. I found one of these too." She reaches into her satchel and produces a scroll case that looks very much like the notice your team came upon. "Um... I don't know if you should travel with me, though. My path is not a safe one, but I must travel it to help a dear friend of mine. Maybe you want someone else?"


The ears perk up on the two adventuring representatives, one a tall handsome man wearing fine blue robes, the other a fat but charming-looking fellow clad in hide armor. Then they notice each other and glare as if to say, "No, if she tells them 'no' then I am asking next!"
 
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