Fantasy Realms of Aldaan ~Hierophant's Magocracy~

[Kloudy]

GM: Kloudy
Mods: Idea @SentinelSeven @Voril
​

 

[Idea]

Money, some would say, makes the world go around. Even within the borders of the Mageocracy, where magic -and knowledge by consequence- is king, such a principle retains its merit. Protecting oneself, accessing another's research or furthering one's own, to travel and see new things, to explore one's love for the craft, or even the simple act of self-sustenance, the future of the present generation is always reliant on their ability to transfer coin from their pockets to the hands of another. A wealthy merchant stops by an almost dome-like building within which the mage happily trades some of those coins for a bit of frost magic to preserve the food. Children play tiny pranks on one another with their first first-class spells, while following a teacher in purple robes, paid for by the their tuition. Mages and spellswords shop around for scrolls that might prove useful (and efficient) before heading out in a more dangerous escorting job for one of the many merchants travelling between the few towns in the Magocracy. After all, it could be dangerous, what with the failed experiments of more prestigious arcane masters being so often discarded into the woods, hidden away where their existence can be denied - or at least, the blame can be shifted. Nonetheless, a profitable job is a profitable job.

Yet, amidst the chaos of the pursuit for wealth, new magic or new knowledge, the old risks being abandoned. What of future generations, what will their losses be if such a thing is lost to time? Who will carry the task to preserve and promote the knowledge of those magics? Surely that is a task entrusted to the loreguard. To teach, to learn, to preserve. But few would give or protect for free what others make a livelihood out of. When such a rarity is spotted, one mustn't miss the chance - especially those who most need to seize it.

Whispers spread among information brokers, hidden in the darkest alleys of the marble-covered city known as the Hierophant's Sceptre. Some clutch their papers, gazing up at the floating citadel in the sky, pondering if this might be their chance to one day make it there. Naturally, none wants to make this too obvious, but one with a keen ear or a keen eye might catch news of it, amidst the shop-cluttered uphill streets, drunken ramblings on the taverns by the edge of town (where most places for travelers and foreigners were, really), or residential areas near the center.

One soul in particular seemed to be especially informed, however. He came around town, on occasion, and though most knew he was from the magocracy few bothered to learn the story of some old dirty beggar. He was known for having a certain talent for guesswork, that one, and that earned him a number of enemies, but a grin of those broken teeth spitting on your face with every word, or those eyes that seem to know where you're going before you do, that laugh at you and make you feel that much colder and smaller... it was uncomfortable, being near that man let alone talking to him, or worse, him talking to you. What a terrible beggar indeed. This time, however, he had claimed he had seen the loreguard and knew where he would go, and had more people the courage to address him, perhaps he'd be making a pretty penny. Or so the rumors went.

Tags: Noam Huntertabbysandshark3 Hanarei Arthur Morgan

 

[Noam]

Hunting down a loreguard wasn't really proper behavior for an apprentice librarian, and the fact that she was considering taking the job at all left a sour guilty taste in Tash's mouth. It would be better for her to take the job than anyone else, she reasoned. She could track down this loreguard and establish a rapport and explain to them how it was in the Hierophant's Mageocracy. They valued knowledge the way some people valued coin; of course a scholar from the other side of the Expanse would be a curiosity. Understanding this, the loreguard would probably be all too happy to share information with Mageocracy scholars, and then they could all be on their way, and Tash would have enough money to continue her journey.

The money wasn't all of it, of course. It wouldn't do for a librarian to have such base motivations. But she did need money, if only so that she wouldn't have to write the rest of her encyclopedia in her own blood.

With that maudlin thought bouncing around in her head, Tash set out to track down the old beggar who had been walking around the Sceptre claiming to know about the loreguard. He wasn't hard to find. He'd left a strong impression on everyone who'd seen him, and none of the impressions were positive.

When she finally found him, Tash agreed with their assessments. He wore the twisted grin of someone who knew something you didn't that would make your life worse. All right, so he's strange. Unpleasant, maybe. She had dealt with worse. Squaring her shoulders and keeping one hand on her staff, just in case, she approached him.

"Excuse me, sir?" She kept her accent as neutrally flat as possible. No point in revealing that she was from the Dacht just yet. "I'm looking for a loreguard from the Dacht Theocratic Conglomerate, said to have been traveling through here. I've heard that you might have some information about where they're heading?"

Idea

 

[Hanarei]

Chalia ​

The half elf glanced up as her hand traced through her bangs, most of her white locks tied behind her head in a somewhat wild ponytail. Her finger tips brushed ever so slightly against her pointed ear, stuck between that of man and elf... at least representing such a trait should she of been of natural birth as her original had been. Her skin was much paler then her original, not to the point of being an anomaly after all there were certainly a few elves who might neglect the light of the sun, even if her complexation didn't seem to change to a great extent despite any exposure to the sun she might have. Her red and blue robe head to her body flowing down down to just above her knees. The feathered shoulder pads putting more emphasis on her figure giving her a bit more of a commanding presence. A skirt peeked out from the robe continuing down in a similar pattern stopping several inches above her ankles. Her brown leather boots still holding an ounce of fashion behind them laced up though clearly fit for a bit more practical use albeit in her case not seeming too worn.

How long has it been since she had wandered the streets of Hierophant's Sceptre? Ten... no it had to been just over eleven years now. A decade having long since passed since she had ventured out of the Mageocracy into the wide world. A bit of an 'enlightening' journey though one that also wasn't quite what she had wanted. There were few places better then the Hierophant's Magocracy when it came to information. Unfortunately for her, she had certain... affairs that called for her disappearance. None the less she had done much to get more information on what she wanted. 'His' notes had been quite useful... as twisted an individual he might of been... and the fact her very existence was owed to that man. An evil that she herself had witnessed on her travels only further her resolve. Even the smile of a child pure as it might be was built upon thew suffering of others. None more responsible for the decaying state of the world then the gods themselves.

As much 'nostalgia' as the place might hold it wasn't her purpose for being there. It was a risk to return to such a land after all. No, it had been her search for those of divine and cursed blood that had brought her there. Their very existence both an enigma and yet a perfect puzzle piece to what could be the answer she sought. As much information as she could gather there was something she needed above all else. She needed a way to much easier find them. Those she might convince in her schemes need not to be fully informed, but for her to make sure her plan worked she had to be sure those she 'gathered' were indeed possessing that element of gods of which she may put to use. With it she was confident enough she can work from that starting point in her quest. From there it is all about exposing their existence to the world. It was from there she could take steps to having others follow in her 'crusade' to achieve what would normally be impossible. So long as she used cunning she could manipulate others actively seeking them out for her.

Her eyes darted up the streets noticing the sight of an orc. Not quite the typical stereotype she had seen around... though perhaps given many of the denizens she had encountered bereft of intelligence it wasn't quite a fair label to put upon her kind. Her interest was only further peeked as she caught wind of her conversation lacking the full details though her inquiring about information leading her to believe she might have at least a somewhat similar 'target' in mind. Her speaking to the ragged man only leading her to believe it was the very person she had heard the whispering about. Her yellow eyes fixating over towards the orc as she came in close giving her a glance over with a light smile on her lips before fixating on the man.

"So this is the eccentric man I've heard about? The one whose ears perk up at the smallest of whispers and whose lips can spin the tales of those who he listens in perfect recollection. A pleasure to meet you." She spoke bowing her head politely with a warm smile on her lips. Clearly attempting to give him praise while using a bit more linguistic flair in hopes of his lack of full comprehension of what she might be saying making it sound to be far more grand of praise to his ears. The woman's head shifted over once again returning to that of the orc. Her expression seeming to soften quite clearly reading her in a bit of a different light.

"You can call me Chalia if you like such a greeting, though if I am barging in too much by interjecting and saying such I really do apologize. I simply overheard a bit of what you were saying and it sounded as if you maybe seeking the very same individual as you." She spoke lightly bowing her head towards Tash as a sign of humility.

Idea Noam

 

[Noam]

"Chalia," Tash repeated. "Nice to meet you." She was an elven woman who looked about the same age as Tash, and there the similarities ended. Hair as white as the marble buildings around them, tangled and wild, and a pale complexion that spoke of either illness or very little time spent out-of-doors. She was well-dressed and well-spoken, a sharp contrast to the man before them. And to most of the people on this street, for that matter. What was she doing here?

Well, Tash was pretty far from home herself, and at least better dressed than the beggar-man. She could ask later where Chalia was from and how she'd come to be here. "If you're looking for a loreguard from the Dacht, then we are looking for the same person. Apparently, there's a reward for any information they might have about...well. Magic, I guess. New magic. Which I would be curious to learn about myself."

Belatedly, she realized she hadn't introduced herself. "Oh! Tash Hordebreaker." She shuffled her bag and staff around so she could hold out a hand. "Nice to meet you. I did say that already, didn't I. Sorry."

Idea Hanarei

 

[Idea]

The beggar was lying against a corner of a little old pastry with a rather effeminate flair to the design, columns connected by floral white wavy lines, this stone in turn holding a tent-like exterior made from discarded dresses. He had one arm placed inside one of the sleeves, and one leg spread on the road's bundled stone and another bent close to him, covering the ragged shorts he wore alongside the remains of a black torn cape and an old wool shirt. His curled beard reached the middle of his chest, and was covered in crumbs and dirt more than a few spider webs he had not bothered to remove (or perhaps he simply had not noticed them). Befitting his "occupation" he occasionally put his rather skinny arms and rugged, dirty hand out, and seemed to take a certain joy in showing twisted, blackened fingernails and a smile lacking in teeth to passer-byes of a more "noble" or simply innocent demeanor.

Though she did not share such a look, one such smile welcomed the orc who addressed him. The beggar chuckled with his rasp voice, staring at the orc, looking her up and down very slowly but without so much as a blink. He did not respond immediately, and his gaze and attention were drawn by another who arrived, and elf by the looks of it. He looked her up and down as well, his smile dropping as he bobbed his head a little side to side. He then stretched his neck a bit, placed a hand on his belly, and seemed to use it to pull himself into a more comfortable position to look at Chalia.

"No need to flatter, you poor thing. I know you don't mean it, and I can tell you don't like to say it, and it wouldn't be true anyway: I used to recall as much as the booze would let me, now I barely recall that much. If I dream I dream of a sweetly flat pavement, where marble is less cracked and more clean.... Bah." The man seemed to force out a cough. "Fancy words, fancy crap, bleh it really doesn't suit me. Point is, I don't get much of a wink, everything's a lil' hazy all the time, or some other thing that sounds like that. Who knows, maybe I just dreamed the whole thing with that loreguard fellow..."

His grinned again, as glanced over to Tash once again.

"A little strapped for cash are we? Well, maybe I'd lend you some some on par with the great "generosity" of this fine nation! I insist, come on..." The man seemed to search his would-be-pockets for something, and attempted to put it in Tash's hand. If she accepted it, she would fine the man had, in fact, given her nothing unexpected, if only because he didn't give her anything at all. He himself did get quite a chuckle out of it either way, however. "Why yes, that's what a man needs they said, a good laugh to keep all the troubles away. Now, then, you two don't seem like the bigshot types, and all I've got is guesses anyway, so I guess we're all meeting in the middle here. I tell you what: See this thing behind me? All these dresses and stuff on the wall? They make a really neat pillow. But the lady that works back there, she just keeps nagging and nagging me, saying one of these days she'll call the guards on me or some crap like that. If you could just get her off my case, that'd be real sweet. And I suppose maybe I could tell you some life stories like the old man I am. For example, a rather recent one about a loreguard I spotted. How about it?"

Noam Hanarei

 

[Hanarei]

Chalia ​

Chalia looked towards Tash as she responded. The woman seeming to take in what she said returning her greeting. She gave a nod her eye staring at her attentively not shifting away as she spoke. She wasn't one to often ignore someone who was speaking to her and she had taken quite a note during her life getting quite acquainted to the social behavior of most mortals. It was something that fortunately for her she seemed to innately act upon. The fact her words confirmed what she suspected only further increasing her desire to pay more attention to her. She wasn't at all opposed to the company of others given they shared similar goals in mind. The fact she had neglected to give her own name until after such a delay not at all pestering her.

"I see, it is nice to meet you Tash. No need to apologize." She spoke, repeating her first name with a light smile on her lips. It was far from her to judge someone for what she might consider trivial social blunders. She wasn't the type to care for such things. For her dressing nice or attempting to be approachable in the way she spoke was much more about playing a certain role. To give a certain aura about herself of which compelled others to act in a certain way around her. A superficial element to get the sway she could use in conversation to achieve what she wished to achieve.

The man's attention being shifted to her at first despite the orc's initial gesture was something she had noted, though his response to her being perhaps a bit more concerning. It wasn't out of the fact her ruse had been had as much that he wasn't quite as oblivious as he seemed to be. It wasn't to the point she would consider him a genius disguised as a beggar but one who had likely squandered away what they had for reasons she could only speculate on with the limited knowledge she had. Now he was a shell of a man that he could of been, yet one who still retrained some of the talents that had his life swung a different direction could of lead him to a good bit of success.

"My apologies then if my flattery came out mute. As flourished as my words might of been, I do genuinely find your ability to broker knowledge quite a useful skill." She spoke nodding her head in response. It was clear he was playing a bit of a game with them. A mild annoyance though far from terrible with what others might expect. Simply trying to talk to someone about allowing him to loiter outside their store was far from the most demanding task though it wasn't one she expected a simple ask would end up taking care of on its own.

"Very well, I don't see a problem with asking her about such a thing. I suppose you have no intention of moving to another location or getting rid of your 'pillow'?" She questioned deciding to save a possible step having to come back and forth later. She glanced so briefly over Tash not certain how into the idea she might be though figuring she might speak up.

Idea Noam

 

[Noam]

Tash glanced up at the tent behind the old man. It was stitched together out of what had clearly once been very fancy dresses. They were faded and weathered now, but still clearly softer than the cobblestones. And this was a sunny patch of the road, with a little shade from the pastry store should he need it. She could see why the old man wanted to stay. And why someone who worked there might object to a slightly creepy guy with cobwebs growing on his shirt sitting in front of their place of business.

"Alright," she said uncertainly. "We can give it a try. Though I agree with Chalia, it might be easier to just find another comfortable spot." But old men could be stubborn about those things.

Tash slung her staff over her back and tugged her necklace out from under her shirt. It held two charms--a tiny piece of amber, cloudy with age, and a polished disk of black jadeite. The second one was the more important in this case. Gods were not as important in the Hierophant's Mageocracy as they were in other lands, but hopefully a priest-in-training advocating for an old beggar would still garner some respect.

The pastry shop had a human-size door. Tash ducked as she entered to avoid hitting her head. "Good morning?" She glanced around for the shopkeeper.

Idea Hanarei

 

[Idea]

"Well, I do suppose if you were willing to offer me a permanent stay at one of them fancy ins I might consider it... But you wouldn't be looking for that loreguard fellow if you didn't need the coin, now would you?" The beggar's laugh came mixed with a fair deal of coughing and spit. "Well, you wouldn't looking for a dirty ol'sack of fleas like me to tell you, anyway. So no can do. Say I did somehow find another spot - I'd just be kicked out of there too! I would end up a guide to the city before I could find any stable place to sleep. So sir, no! Now then, the prattle will remind me I'm hungry, so what do you say? Care to give it a try misses?"

He proceeded make a little bow towards them, still without standing up.

The inside of the pastry shop was made of a rougher kind of stone familiar to those poorer parts of the Hierophant's Sceptre, yet the stonework had smoothed out the material to the point where they seemed to flow into the filling of dirt in between the gaps on the floor, while the walls were stacked blocks with nearly flat indistinct sculptures carved in, though mostly hidden behind the many shelves filled end to end with bizarre objects, such as a vase with three arms sticking out (made of the same clay as the vase of course), a sphere with rings seemingly floating around it, and some more mundane-looking types like that rock with four holes that connected in the center. Fortunately, the metallic chairs at the center, though certainly elaborate, were otherwise normal, and the low wooden tables they surrounded too, unlike the tall figure wearing a dusty wool mantle and what appeared to be something between the face of a human and the face of an owl as a mask which barely hid the pointed ears sticking out from behind it, let alone that waterfall of curly brown hair that reached down beneath her shoulders like a mane.

The figure simply stood there in between those tables for a moment, as if attempting to recall something whilst looking directly towards the newcomers to the shop. Her mask rose a tiny little bit, and then she spoke.

"Welcome! Shall I call for the owner or would you prefer to take a seat first?" The voice sounded a little strained and almost whispered, not to mention being somewhat muffled by the mask. She waved the broom in her hand a bit, in place of waving said hand.

"No need! I heard'em coming. I was finishin' up here anyways." A particularly petite woman trotted out from behind the counter's gate, carrying some kind of empty plate with crumbs dripping out, under her armpit. Much like her employee the woman had curly hair though of a much more vivid red color, and it reached even further below, right down to her lower legs. If she turned around, one might be forgiven for confusing her with an oddly placed rose garden (though it might not seem as out of place in this kind of shop, considering the rest of the decoration). She patted the apron she wore over her dress, and after a glance at her potential customers, she gave them a rosy smile. "So, somethin' nice an' cheap for lunch, I reckon?"

Noam Hanarei

 

[Hanarei]

Chalia ​

The elven woman nodded lightly hearing as the orc seemed to come to some agreement with what she had suggested. Not unsurprising given she seemed to be at the very least a relevatively smart woman herself. Her eyes had caught sight of her charms. Her cold eyes glancing at them ever so briefly though her gaze was shift away back to the man. There was no reason for her to mention anything about it even if to some extent it was something that irked her. Nothing worth wild to talk about though, after all the selfish greedy gods had set the world up in a way in which they could spark the mortals to revere and worship them despite all the evil their neglect has wrought. A blindness she was almost certain her very existence allowed for her to far better see and understand.

Chalia elected to follow suit behind Tash giving the orc a small bit of distance. A temporary measure as to not be counted as part of her company until she could get a better idea of the owner. An annoyance to be sure though prejudice was something she had to take into consideration when dealing. It was something that was rather quick for her to observe was unnecessary upon the appearance of the strange masked individual. The sight of their ears being spotted from the corner of her eye despite the mane of hair they seemed to possess. Strange, though if there was a place oddities were to be encountered the Magocracy seemed most fit to be where they might be encountered.

Without needing to speak a word the owner seemed to have taken notice greeting them herself. Her eyes darting over to see the rather small red head as she pranced out somehow orderly in her disorder. A rather odd type to say the least but perhaps being beneficial for the sake of them having a chance to be able to negotiate with her. The first words uttered in her direction being... perhaps not as favorable. While she took no stock on wealth, it wasn't exactly the best thing to hear when a first impression might imply a sense of 'cheapness' about herself. It gave the impression she might see very little of value she might be able to offer. On the other hand if there was any sort of bargaining chances were whatever deal would be made with the expectation she didn't have much to offer.

"Cheap? I am willing to throw a few more coin, within reason, to try something of which the chief might hold personal pride in creating." She spoke in her warm tone of voice. Once again buttering up the person she was speaking to a bit in the process. She hadn't expected to eat though it wouldn't hurt to have something to eat. More so it seemed a good way to create a positive impression rather then simply coming in to pester them about certain affairs. She could only assume the man had already tried to directly ask to say on one of those many occasions she complained about him being there.

Her yellow eyes shifting glancing over towards Tash less certain of what she might do in response. She wasn't quite sure of her methodology though it seemed off her first impressions she was much more measured in her own responses and even had a kind bent about her. Whether she would go along with her or ask she wasn't quite so certain though she felt confident enough in her first impression that she wasn't the type to burn bridges before she even got to them to cross them.

Idea Noam

 

[Noam]

Tash was a little thrown off by the strangeness of the shop and the woman (probably a woman, anyway) in an owl mask. The Heirophant's Magocracy was a deeply strange place by all standards, but this was one of the stranger things she'd seen so far. Pastry shops didn't generally have shelves upon shelves of...sculptures? Laboratory equipment? She found herself staring at a sphere surrounded by floating rings that was definitely magic, and no magic she'd ever seen before...

She shook her head, refocusing. "Er, maybe just...something small." Outright asking for something cheap seemed rude, but there was a reason she was wandering through the slums looking for beggars who could direct her to bounty hunting jobs. She didn't have any fucking money.

“But I actually was hoping to talk to you about the gentleman out front." She hadn't actually gotten his name, she realized. “Our temple is dedicated to helping those who’ve fallen on hard times, and I’ve been working with that man for sometime in my service to Psark.” She toyed with her necklace. “I wanted to thank you for being so neighborly towards him. He’s mentioned how your shop’s beauty gives him comfort, and what a…” She glanced over at a vase with three porcelain arms. “…welcoming environment you’ve created. It’s not everyone who can extend such kindness towards our less fortunate neighbors.”

 

[Dante Verren]

Asie Woolgrove
Mentioned: Hanarei Noam
Interactions: Idea


Among the mix of mages, magic beast, spell casters, and various other types of magical sights walked a rather plain dressed figure. If it wasn't for the skull mask that covered the top of her face, the horns that seemed to jut out slightly from the mask, and the green paint that looked to be glowing faintly in the light then she might have completely blended in with the crowd. It didn't help that the sights and sound of the crowded city had made the elf feel like a child again, too the point where she was practically prancing through the crowds on the way to her destination. Any weird looks, shouts, or any other background noise never reached her as she was consumed by her own excitement.

The travels from her small home in the tribal expanse to the magocracy was long and perilous but she had finally made it. These sights and sounds of any kind of city let alone a large one was quite new to her. It didn't matter if it was the sight of strange people purchasing goods, disheveled folk emptying their guts of what ever foul potion they had drank, the smell of fresh baked bread, or even the horrid smell of waste that arose from the side alleys she passed. The social recluse was merely enjoying the fact that she had broken free from the bubble her family had built around themselves, and at the possibility of returning the books she had... burrowed from that one human so long ago.

While she really had no interest in any kind of bounty work, she had heard rumors about some scary bum who knew how to handle information. In a city of magic, if the people was scared of someone like that then she believed that was the best place to start her search. Why she thought that was the best place to start her search for a stranger whose work she had practically stolen over a decade ago was a testament to her lack of social knowledge and common sense.

While following what whispers she could, she eventually poked her head around the corner to see the rumored scary man conversing with what looked like another elf, and possibly an orc. She wasn't really sure about the second one being an orc, she seemed a lot more well dressed and proper compared to what her people had taught her about the drooling savages. Still she waited for them to finish their conversation before making her way from around the corner and approaching the human. As she moved towards him she quickly thought of how she should handle this interaction, should she take the normal haughty approach that the humans she interacted with before expected her to have or go with something different? Deciding on taking a different approach she gave a smile to the old beggar as she approached "Tree's greetings mister, Can I perhaps ask you some questions?"

 

[King Crimson]

In The Halls of House Zephirin
Western Hend Aristocracy
​

In the land of western Hend, before the frigid Cyyrik mountains, resides a grand castle, standing in solitude over a fief of rolling, emerald fields.
Today, like any other, it's halls were abuzz with activity, servants milling about like cells of blood in a vein, seeing to their tasks, preparing for the day.

All save one; a luxurious chamber, gilded with the finest golds and lacquered with elegant marble and obsidian stone, all carved and crafted from the very mountains it stood upon.
It is dead silent, seemingly cut off from the rest of the manor, frozen within a small bubble of time and space, only a single soul drawing breath within; a woman of middling age, dressed in the finest indigo silks, an iron crown perched proudly atop her head of golden-blonde hair, signifying to all that is was she who held reign over the household.
Like the rest of the room, she seemed as if frozen in time, gazing intently at the grand portrait before her.
Gilded in the finest gold, nearly as wide as the wall of a commoner's house, and just as tall, it was like a window back in time for her, before age and stress had begun to leave their scars, she sat, regally, at the painting's center, freshly anointed with her husband's crown, and the vestige it came with.
Painted shortly after her beloved's sudden passing, his presence was still felt within, in the form of a small vignette to her side, haunting the scene like a wayward spirit, almost to be staring at her from beyond the grave.
Beneath his portrait, stood their second daughter, before she had gotten her own noble vestments. She wore the same, sullen, studious face she usually bore, her bespectacled eyes betraying her urgent desire to return to her study, where she could return to her beloved books, and solitude.
To her other side, stood her firstborn, radiating life and warmth with a kindred, gentle smile, a small crown of iron sitting upon her head. She wore it well, standing like a stalwart pillar, despite her gentle composure.
And then, the subject of the painting that had enraptured the noblewoman's attention so closely; the small, tender child sat upon her lap, her small, innocent eyes concerned, confused, impossible for her to meet for too long, lest it rip the heart from her chest.
She could feel the weight of the crown upon her head, knew that it meant she held a great power over her surroundings,
But looking upon this portrait, into the eyes of that poor, young girl, she could only feel the crushing weight of her failures.

The tapping of measured, hastened footsteps approaching her snapped her away from her reverie.
She needn't even look to identify the culprit, she was well familiar with the head maid's strict, formal mannerisms.
"You've news, Miss Beatrix?" she asked, turning away from the painting to cast her stoic gaze upon her servant.
With a formal bow, the maid responded, "We found no sign of her within the castle, My lady, nor within the village."
"If we have learned anything about Madam Cresshilda's whereabouts, it is that she is no longer here."
Not the answer she wanted to hear, but also, unfortunately, not unexpected.
"...I see..." she pensively replied, before adding, "...And I trust you and your staff were exercised prudence in your search?"
"Yes, M'lady, we searched with utmost discretion."
"Good..." she sighed, returning her attention to the painting before her.
"...Above all else, it is imperative that the other families, nor any others learn of this. Resume your duties for now, and continue your search."
"...Yes, M'lady" Beatrix tentatively responded, taking another bow before turning around, and disappearing down the hall.
She was an experienced worker, good at stifling her emotions, but Lady Zephirin still caught that slightest knitting of her brow, that small, concerned look, that said without words, "Is that truly all you have to say?"
It wasn't, of course, but she mustn't show an ounce of weakness, lest the entire house be thrown into disarray.
She needed to be strong.
She needed to have hope.
Looking once more towards that child in the painting, beneath her breath, she offered a silent prayer,
Dearest daughter, please find sanctuary, if not here, than somewhere far, where they cannot reach you...
---

Cressey
The Journey Begins​

Alright, so far, so good, Cressey thought reassuringly to herself, taking a deep breath to calm her tumultuous nerves.
Things were going well for the young noble's sojourn so far,
Without a hitch even!
Perfectly perfect.
Well...
Perhaps she'd gotten lost once, maybe thrice...
And maybe she almost lost all of her possessions, and perhaps even her life, to a group of conniving marauders...
But It was okay!
She was okay.
She'd successfully fended off her attackers, earning herself some recognition from the local guard, along with a purse just large enough to get her a map, and enough supplies to continue her journey.
Things were going perfectly well.

And now, here Cressey stood, in awe before the spectacular city before her; the Hierophant's Magocracy, the first major landmark of her journey.
Her older sister's descriptions did the scenery little justice, as grandiose and eloquent as they were; a massive floating tower at the city's epicenter, which seemed to stretch on forever into the sky, piercing through the clouds and into the heavens, dazzling arrays of magicks and lights, the likes of which she had never seen, bizarre creatures and persons of origins unknown to her, wearing exotic fashions she couldn't fathom.
Unfortunately, she would not have the time to enjoy the local sights for very long; she was still far too close to home for her liking, and the risk of discovery was still far too great.
Although, if any of those painfully droll lectures on noble power dynamics had sunken into her, then the news of her disappearance was likely being kept away from the public eye, much to her benefit.
As she had for the vast majority of her travels, Cressey opted to keep the cowl of her blue cloak drawn low over her face, giving it a small reassuring tug down to further hide her prim, golden hair and deep blue eyes from view, as she took her first, tentative steps past the city gates.
From here, she would quickly resupply, take whatever work requiring a steady lance she could find, and once she had enough coin, food, and whatnot, advance north, to Maritime Thallasy, where she could take the first ship that she could get to take her as far away from this side of Aldaan as possible.

But before any of that, she needed to find some work, some food that wasn't pastries, or wild game fried with storm magick, and a place to rest her weary feet.
Fortunately, as she wandered about the outer rings of the city in what certainly was not just aimless, uncertain meandering, she did hear subtle whispers of some manner of scholar of peculiarly high value, who's location was unfortunately being kept secret by a particularly unpleasant vagabond.
A simple enough task, given it's apparent worth... Cressey thought to herself, scratching her chin in idle thought, as she cast a sidelong glance towards a particular group of gossiping magi.
After all, how difficult could it possibly be to find one, single per-- the irony of her personal quandary hit her swiftly, temporarily stopping her in her tracks.
Best she not answer that question.
As she shook away that particularly disturbing train of thought, a most wonderous scent wafted into her nose, sending the pangs of hunger that she had been staving away for far too long back to the forefront of her conscious, and reverberating throughout her stomach with a low, needy groan, it's source the peculiar-looking building to her side; a signpost advertising it as a bakery of sorts, decorated with bright, gleaming stone columns and arches, and what appeared to be a canopy of old, discarded dresses.
Stranger still, was the company kept outside the store's walls; one corner of the makeshift tent having been infested with a cantankerous, wretched old beggar, and a giant of a woman draped in the exotic skins and bones of some manner of wild beast, who seemed eager to speak with him.

The tales she'd heard sprung back to mind, as she glanced once more at the feeble, old man, giving Cressey the sinking feeling that she may soon have business with him.
But first, she needed to soothe the nagging rumbling in her stomach, and perhaps she could inquire about the beggar with the store owner as she did so.
Giving the two a sidelong glance as she passed by, she entered the store. To her surprise, she was greeted by a number of miscellaneous magical devices, some familiar, some not.
It was common for noble families to buy such trinkets, often to flaunt them to their contemporaries, often with absolutely no idea what they actually did.
Looking over at one in particular that was of some familiarity, a floating, metallic sphere, surrounded by a trio of floating rings that orbited freely around it.
If she recalled correctly, it was some manner of astrolabe, used for mapping magical ley lines.
She gave it a small tap with her finger, causing the rings to suddenly shift in formation, and then lock in place.
Her older sister would have liked it.

What was of greater interest, however, were the store's owners, a tall, gaunt woman, wearing an exotic mask, that seemed to move with the woman's body like a second face, causing Cressey to nearly mistake her for some form of talking beast.
Next there was the store's owner, someone that had the rare privilege of not forcing Cressey to crane her neck to look her eye to eye, draped in long, strawberry-red hair. She appeared to be speaking to what Cressey could discern as either being customers, or perhaps a group of fellow adventurers seeing to the vagabond outside.
As they spoke, Cressey kept an ear focused on their conversation, hoping to find some information that could be of use, while digging through her satchel to retrieve the small coin purse she had won in her earlier travels.
However, once she drew it out from her bag, she found it much...lighter than she remembered, and trying to shake out it's contents into her hand yielded only a small, disappointing puff of dust.

 

[Idea]

The small shopkeeper climbed a short wooden lander from behind the counter and leaned over it.

“Oho, a little more coin ya say? Well, if ya’re sure! It’s a heavy tome to find the spelling though, ya know? I always make things to take prid’in.” She gave them a very pronounced wink. “Now, now do take a seat, take a seat! Plenty of room t’go ‘round today! And ya’re erm… friend? Acquaintance? Miss orc is quite free to as well, of course.”

The dwarf listened to what Tash had to say next. Her eyebrows certainly raised at the mention of the “temple” but she forced them go back to normal, and her smile was just a tiny bit wider.

“I see, a temple. Well, I do love me some kindness, but just between us now miss, he’s been quite trouble. Why all of ‘em fancy bags take ooone look at’im and they walk right past my shop! Have ya come to take ‘im? Are a priestess or somethin’? Ah, well, we’ll talk more once I bring ya food. Ya sure ya don’t wanna be more specific though? Or ya just be trustin’ my judgment?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

Meanwhile, outside, the old beggar just glanced over at the tall woman in an attire even wilder-looking than his own. Bones and pelts and those gloves so thin they might actually have claws at the tip.

"I sure am meeting a number of lovely ladies today, aren't I? Well, if the trees are greeting me, I guess I started drinking earlier than I remember.... which wouldn't shock anyone, I reckon ha!" The man grinned and threw his head back with the exaggerated laughter, which in turn led to a bit of real laughter before he proceeded. "You can ask me anything you like, but that don't mean I'm gonna answer. Well, I do suppose something a little nice did happen, so I'm in a better mood than usual. I usually just feel like crap. Speaking of which- you sure you don't wanna take off that hat of yours? It looks a little tight around the ears, and judging by the size of the bumps, I'd say they are long ones miss elf."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

While the owner addressed their current clients, a new arrived, leading the masked lady to advance around them with timid, hesitant footwork as she seemed to attempt to stand on her toes and flatten her figure to avoid both a collision with the customers and the walls alike. Nonetheless, perhaps due a bit of static some of her hairs clung to Tash's mantle, causing the waitress to flinch, before turning to the orc. Her hands raised quickly in front of her face, almost forgetting she was still holding a broom, and she stepped back in a hurry.

"I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry, I'm sorry!" She hurriedly, frantically apologized. When she continued on her way to the entrance of the shop, she did so quite faster (and notably less thoughtfully given a couple more near-bumps into things) than before. She stopped in front of their tiny new guest who had just walked through the door and was in the process of inspecting what could be presumed to be a coin bag.

"Welcome." Declared the waitress, more calmly this time, if with still hints of a heavy breath.

All the ruckus had gotten the attention of the owner as well though. She smiled at Tash and Chalia and raised a finger.

"'Scuse me for a moment." She took a few steps to the side, glancing at the new client. "Don'worry, she's gonna attend to ya-"

Then, she noticed the glint of the earrings in the small girl's ears, their silver reflecting the lighting of the establishment. It didn't take more than that to understand her status.

"Oh, sorreh! Welcome, welcome! Wanna take a seat? Would ya like some candy? Or make some yummy cakes? We've got plenty of'em, come, come I'll show ya then ya can ask ya parents for 'em ay? I'll add in some extra sugar for ya." She winked, opening her hand to take Cressey's.

Noam Hanarei Dante Verren

 

[Hanarei]

Chalia ​

Chalia looked to Tash as she seemed to take a bit of a similiar aproach to herself with the old man outside. The woman keeping her glance towards her feeling a bit less certain of such an approach. Then again, it seemed invoking the temple likely held perhaps some sort of religious connotation to it. A perhaps somewhat grinding aspect as to how the typical mortal might react being so inclined to fall to their knees to a higher power whose very nature shouldn't allow such a cruel world to exist given their capabilities. None the less it seemed many were quick to fall to their knees for such beings and while a sort of twisted need to be moral for the sake of such figure or at least those organization of some power of whom might be willing to assert their authority over them.

Having situated herself down she shook her head in response not wishing to impose any more questions about the old man. It was clear she was at least postponing the discussion even if briefly and she wanted to make sure that she gave the best impression possible. Besides, she felt it only right to give Tash her chance. After all her own suggestions were perhaps a little more... dubious although nothing she would consider illegal as well. If things truly fell apart too far and a reasonable solution wasn't able to be made, she could always bypass the need to worry about 'free will' to get what information she needed. A last resort she saw no immediate need that it would even be required.

"I am content with going with the chief's judgement. So long as the price is reasonable enough for ones with lighter pockets to afford I am content with seeing what delicacy the cook holds a great deal of pride in creating themselves. Though if my fellow dining compatriot is more selective I do not wish to enforce such a choice upon them."

She gave a light nod in response allowing her to be on her way. Her eyes shifting to Tash as to get a better idea of what she might be thinking with the woman's response, clearly not holding the man in high regard even if she was perhaps evasive with coming out and stating her distaste for him. Not unexpected for someone who wished to do business though whether her mentioning of the temple and the possibility of her position causing more sway in her response it was a bit harder for her to say for sure. It did seem more inspired in the hopes of being careful in her response in hopes it might get him out of her hands. Chalia's gaze had slowly shifted away as she heard the woman speak to another who entered the establishment.

Her sharp eyes glancing upon her from a distance as she could tell the way the shopkeeper's demeanor changed and their behavior rather swiftly. While she hadn't a clue what might of sparked the change it was her words that quickly painted a picture for her the woman wasn't some mere commoner. By her words clearly distinguishing her as having at the least parents of high status whether of nobility or perhaps that of wealth. Her choice of words seemed to lean more to the former over the latter. A wealthy merchant would be likely much more interested in numbers rather then simple promises of gifts. Granted it seemed she was quick to mention parents making it seem she wasn't one who held direct power. She kept silent simply observing finding interest now in keeping track of Cressey even if she might not be directly related to her current 'mission'. They could hold value in the long term for her endeavors that simply ignoring them foolish.

Idea Noam King Crimson

 

[Dante Verren]

Asie Woolgrove
Interaction: Idea


Asie chuckled along with the man as he laugh, "From what I have heard the correct time to drink is based on different groups, perhaps you started drinking later then you thought instead of earlier?" While she wasn't exactly familiar with Alcohol due to her families lack of participation in that particular type of beverage her travels have given her a glimpse into how it effects different people. While the smell coming from the human was anything less then pleasant, she wasn't in a position to accuse him of being drunk too early in the day. "Oh and tree's can speak to anyone, it is just a manner of if you can understand them or not."

As he commented on the mask decorating the top part of her head she reached up and adjusted it slightly. "Oh it is quite alright, my ears aren't that long. At least I have seen longer." She wasn't really sure if he meant her ears or the horns but chose to go with the ears. Either way it was time to get back on track. "I had heard people speak about a man who knows many things that others shy away from, someone who most people would overlook. When people whisper about people like that it normally means that those men are good at their job. With that I need to ask you for your help."

Looking down at her bag she started to dig through it. She didn't have much in it but the bag was a mess. Very quickly she found and pulled out the journal she was looking for. Extending her hand to the man she held out the book to the man. "I am looking for someone, A human who wandered into the forrest and lost his journals. The forest did not tell me who I was looking for, and all I have is this. Can you help me?"

 

[King Crimson]

Cressey
Current Location: Within a Magical Bakery

​

"Hm...curses. Surely I couldn't have ran out already?" Cressey worriedly pondered to herself, shaking her coin purse a few more times in the vain hope that a glittering copper piece might yet reveal itself.
So distracted by her financial woes, she hadn't even noticed the creature advancing towards her, until she had turned to check the pocket of her cowl for any forgotten coins, and nearly bumped her nose upon the bird's beak.
"Uwah!" a startled cry ripped from her throat, followed by an instinctive step back to put some distance between herself and the pair of soulless, black eyes, nestled within a smooth, concave face that peered into her soul as if she were a furtive, vulnerable mouse.
Now that she was closer to the strange being, she could make out some details that she couldn't before; the small seam of flesh at the edge of her mask, where one face ended, and another began, thin, pointed ears, hiding behind a satin curtain of long, brown hair.
A very bizarre form of costume, to be sure, as Cressey soon realized, though the way owl's face seemed to move, as if it were alive still gave her some doubts.
The dwarf's shrill, ecstatic voice tore Cressey away from such thoughts, hurriedly frolicking towards her as if she had just found her true love.
"U-Uhm...I appreciate your kind hospitality, ma'am..." the young girl began, finally managing to swallow back the heart that had leapt up her throat.
"...But I've not the coin to repay you," she explains with a discontent sigh, stowing her empty coin purse back into the confines of her satchel.
She couldn't quite place it; perhaps it was the tone in her voice, sickly sweet like the air of her shop, or the way her interest had so abruptly been piqued in her arrival, when she had previously been involved in what sounded as far more serious business; but Cressey could not help but feel self-conscious as the dwarf gazed expectantly upon her, visions of gold dancing in her eyes.
Uneasily, she tugged once more on the hem of her hood to keep her face, and the bangles that hung from her ears, obscured from view.
Best she steer this conversation in a different direction, before the shopkeeper started asking some rather uncomfortable questions.
"However..." Cressey began, "...I could not help but overhear that you've an issue with that vagrant fellow sitting outside. What say I offer you my assistance in dealing with him, in exchange for a warm meal, and perhaps some information?"
Placing her hand upon the hilt of her lance, and proudly puffing out her chest, she makes a good show of appearing as an earnest, confident adventurer.
Hmph! Very shrewd, Cressey... she smugly remarks to herself, praising her own ingenuity in the face of a potentially bad situation; with one maneuver, she'd managed to earn herself the possibility of some work, some food, and all while avoiding exposure!

From the dwarven baker, her attention falls towards the other two guests that she had speaking with.
Orcs were a rarity within the land of Hend, particularly within the land of the Aristocracy, and what few there were tended to laborers or craftsmen, so to see an Orc mage, of all things, was a rather unworldly sight for the young noble.
However, when she turned to study the orc's companion, she found that the elf's golden eyes were doing much the same.
The white-haired woman had a very regal air about her, evident in her words, her dress, and even in the way she carried herself; a facet that Cressey found immediately off-putting.
But even more disconcerting, was that there was something about the elf that was just a little bit...off, something in her actions, her words, her eyes, that Cressey could only partially fathom, but remained just out of her reach.
Nonetheless, the two seemed an interesting, well-traveled lot, the type with many stories to tell and many lands they have seen.
An exciting prospect, they looked exactly like the type of folk that Cressey had hoped to meet on her journey.

​

Interacting:
Idea
Noam (Tash)
Hanarei (Chalia)

 

[Idea]

The old man raised an eyebrow at woman in pelts as she searched through her things, and he in turn yanked out a cheap waterskin made from the bladder of some animal not even he would recognize. He turned his head up and raised the waterskin above his mouth, squeezing out a small amount of the liquid within while glancing at Asie's journal through the corner of his eye.

"Aaaah, that's better. You know, there's a lot of freedom in my lifestyle. You get to walk around, sit around, be around, and people don't even wanna LOOK at you, let alone touch you or talk to you. Well, not up until this loreguard business haha! But if there's one thing that's really gets me is this always having to ration everything. Ordinary man with an ordinary job can do something as ordinary as eating like a king- if just for a day. Drink like one too. Maybe get drunk enough to pay attention to an old man with nothing better to do than to learn to pick the liars from the stupid." He swallowed a chuckle, corked the container, and spat on his fingers. He rubbed them against his clothes to dry them up, then took the book from the woman. He didn't bother opening it though, simply examining the cover periodically closing or opening one of his eyes. "I can see the marking of his knee on the cover, and the slight bent of the pages. The ends of the paper seem to be of irregular size, no, just a tad folded... Meticulous type I see. Nothing distinct enough though, so he's probably a dedicated, adventurous type even. What did he look like? Anything else you remember miss tree?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

Argh! A blunder! She had given but a quick, no, rushed nod in acknowledgement of the pale elven lady's answer and gotten whisked off to the young lady's side only to be met with such an answer. Well, her manner of speaking was formal enough to be important... or very very afraid. But who would be afraid of a tiny curled hair dwarf running a bakery? So... a win perhaps, despite it all? The shopkeeper's eyes slowly drifted down to the weapon the newest "customer" made sure to emphasize, along with her offer to "deal" with that deadbeat outside.

"No coin... ya say?" Her gaze turned back upwards to meet the young customer's, even stepping back and leaning a bit backwards against a table, and she noticed her attention to the ones who had come in before. A quick glance to the side revealed the masked employee lightly bent down with a hand beginning to reach in front. The dwarven woman forced a smiled and scooted in a flash towards the waitress, grabbing her wrist. "Ah yes, I see wha's going on'ere. Well then, WE shall go and prepare ya're meals. Warm, delicious meals... coming... right up. Feel free ta pick ya're tables...wherever ya wish."

She gave a little bow and hurried towards the counter, practically dragging the waitress behind her, who stumbled and almost hit some tables and stealing glances left to right and right to left. The dwarf only stopped right before plunging into the kitchen, forcing her employee to push her arm against the counter to prevent two from slamming into one another.

"Oh, righ', 'bout that offer. Ya three better talk it out amongst ya. If one of ya is gonna get rid of 'im, and the two have some business with'im, well, when there's only one pick-axe, the other watches the ceiling."

With those words, she and her employee went inside, leaving the three guests on their own.

Noam Hanarei Dante Verren King Crimson

 

[Noam]

"No, no, you're alright--" Tash reached out hastily to steady the waitress, who hadn't even bumped into her, but the woman scurried by to the front of the shop before she could help to attend to the girl who'd just wandered in. Human, well-dressed even if she was trying to hide it, and brandishing a lance.

She glanced over at Chalia and found the elf looking back at her. She wondered if they were thinking the same thing, which was that well-dressed humans with weapons offering to deal with people rarely went well for the people they were dealing with.

"Sure. Let's talk it over." She picked her way through the cramped shop to a table with three chairs. One squealed ominously as she sat down and waved Chalia and the new girl over. "I'm not sure about you, but I was really just hoping to ask that guy a couple questions. And I think Chalia meant to do the same. What are your intentions?"

 

[Dante Verren]

Asie Woolgrove
Interaction:: Idea


"Having freedom in one's lifestyle is certainly nice, but too much freedom and you might find a lonely void waiting at the end" she said lightly, more so speaking to herself out loud rather then trying to get direct reaction out of the man. She tilted her head to the side as he inspected the outside of the book, not even bothering to look at the inside. This man must be truly wise if he could gather the needed information from the outside. Sadly for Aise he wasn't able to provide her with as much information as she wanted. Now it was her turn to think and she raised her right hand, tapping the side of her mask while she recalled the events of that encounter. "It was many years ago when I encountered him. It was a human male, kind of tall and skinny with colorful robes. He got caught in a hunting trap. He was cursing, yelling, and screaming in a scratchy voice. He had a few books like that one on the school of Dawn. That is how I learned it. I cut him down and he ran off which is why I managed to get a hold of that book and the others."

As she finished the short recounting of that event she waited for a moment to see his reaction and too see if that info had helped. One term he had used had caught her attention. "You mentioned some lorguard business... If I remember correctly outside of the expanse people often keep their lore in books and scrolls like that one. I have also heard of a place called a libraries that store books. Has there been a problem with a librarian? "

 

[Idea]

"Colorful robes, you say?" The old man looked down to the book in his hands. He decided it was time to open it at last. "He was either one of the more adventurous scholars or an apprentice to someone who wanted another to do their dirty work, I reckon. Can't say I know him though.... I might just know who might, instead. I won't say no more though. Miss Tree, I do not know the customs of where you're from, but you see here in the magocracy we are very fond of our barters. Everyone gives out something if they want something in return. Even the people at tip top would at least claim they are giving something to us, their pretty presence, without ever even having to touch the ground with their own two feet. Those who ain't quite so high in the sky though, it's the rules of exchange for us."

He grinned, and adjusted his sitting position.

"I suppose I can give you a little sip in regards to the rest of that." He attempted to drink some more of his hidden waterskin, lips feeling drier from the mention of sips. "It's barely got drops in it now. Where was I? Ah, right, it ain't no librarian, nor any trouble. Well, he might be if folks find him. It's his own fault for getting found though. You make decisions, you live with the consequences. That's how I choose to live. Are you interested in seeing a library? Or is the loreguard that peaked your interest? You might not be able to meet with the person I told you about... but if the one you're after is a scholar from the magocracy, they sure to be looking for the loreguard too."

He then leaned forward, pushing the dresses on the wall he was leaning on and grunting from the effort.

"So, what do you say. I'll be generous with my price as a welcoming gift. How about we trade some stories? Maybe while you fill me with wonder about your people and your home, I could accidentally get caught up in the mood and let some things 'slip' about my friend, or that loreguard... So long as we remain alone that is. I did make a different deal with the folks inside after all."

Dante Verren

 

[Hanarei]

Chalia ​

Chalia glanced on keeping a rather cold blank gaze not seeming to show much emotion as she sat not having any reason to act otherwise. It seemed as if there wasn't much in terms of an easy solution. A pity really given the fact it seemed to add another element of complexity in the matter. Her yellow eyes glancing as the two residence scurried in to avoid what seemed to be hinting at some sort of fight. A gesture that caused the woman to blink and simple gaze over only having to question how uncivilized the people within this town really were. The use of violence was to her a rather outlandish approach to a situation... at least so long as there were much more reasonable approaches that could be made.

Chalia allowed the orc to take up pace, stepping forward with a certain elegance as she made her way to the table with three chairs. Each step causing a light clicking noise as she found her way to the seat. The woman sitting herself down carefully easing herself in place. She folded her arms glancing upon the woman who seemed content with making their little ploy to get information that much harder. It felt as if the very world sometimes conspired against her to try and force her hand, a rather annoying disruption to say the least. She looked upon Cressey as if debating the need to bother talking in the first place, deciding to put down such a hasty notion.

"Indeed. Likewise, talking would be a far better solution then engaging in some act of barbarism." She commented off from Tash's words sitting back in her chair. To say Cressey had created a rather poor first impression would be an understatement, though she was to forgive having such a poor first reception so long as she could 'redeem' herself now.

Idea Noam King Crimson

 

[King Crimson]

Cressey
Current Location:
​

In a sudden flurry of motion, the dwarf had grabbed her familiar, together retreating back into the recesses of their kitchen, leaving behind them, the faint smell of fresh bread, accompanied by a faint, unmistakable air of awkwardness, as the trio of adventurers were now left alone within the cluttered dining hall
Perhaps it was just her imagination, but for a brief moment, she thought she saw that strange bird creature reach for her lance before she being taken away.
Curious...
But it was fine, the elf and the ork seemed, at the very least, at least somewhat open to the idea of discussion.
Perhaps Cressey had said something that she shouldn't have, or perhaps she had impressed upon them a tad too much in her efforts to prove her legitimacy, but she could tell from the hesitance in the ork's voice, and the way the elf had taken to turning her nose up at her, that they were not entirely convinced.
No matter.
She would just have to prove herself.

"I thank you," the hooded adventurer sighed, claiming one of the small, wooden seats for herself.
"My name is Cressey, and I am but a humble traveler from the land of Hend,"
Gathered around a circular, wooden table, Cressey could keep a clear view of both of her compatriots, gauge their reactions, act accordingly.
She had been in this sort of position plenty of times before, sipping tea, talking the day away by the garden.
Only this time the garden was noticeably absent.
And she wasn't speaking to impudent, noble waifs, whom she was forced to pretend were her friends.
And they were speaking of things that actually mattered.
"As for my intentions..." she began, her voice stern, earnest, her blue eyes sharpening beneath her hood. Her hands knit themselves together, resting on the table.
"I do not wish to take advantage of a stranger's generosity, and so I intend to earn a warm meal, in exchange for assisting our host in 'dealing' with the fellow outside..."
The elf was the first to offer a suggestion, it seemed, and her answer did seem a trite...discomforting, to say the least.
From the sound of it, violence was the first thing to cross the woman's mind, before she disregarded the notion for fairly obvious reasons.
That was your first idea!? Cressey uneasily thought to herself, a bit more wary towards the elegantly dressed elf than she was before.
Guess the old adage her sisters told her rang true; "the most silken veils held the sharpest knives."

"I-I concur," Cressey responds, "It would not do anyone any good to resort to force. Nor to get the local guard involved."
Subconsciously, her eyes flitted once more towards the elf, as if that suggestion was directed towards her.
Eager to take her mind away from such thoughts, and get back to the main topic at hand, Cressey unknits her hands to raise a single finger into the air, suggesting, "I believe offering him a portion from our own plates would be a good place to start negotiations, perhaps accompanied with a gift?"
"If we earn his favor, he may become more open to the idea of moving his business elsewhere..."
Leaning forward in her seat, she adds, "...And perhaps to giving you the knowledge that you both seek."

After letting her words hang in the air for the briefest of moments while she collects her thoughts, she abruptly asks, "These questions of yours...am I right in assuming they pertain to this 'loreguard' business I've heard so much about?"
"If so, then our interests are more aligned than first thought."
Crossing her arms impatiently across her chest, she reclines back in her chair, "...Though, make no mistake; I am no scholar, nor student, nor have I the desire to stay within these city walls to become one. It is an idle curiosity to me, if anything..."
"...However...!" she quickly adds, reaching forward to bring her hands back onto the table, "There those here who find whatever knowledge this loreguard holds quite valuable, and are willing to pay a fine purse in exchange."
"For my services, I ask only for enough to replenish my supplies, so that I may make for Thallasy. The rest is yours to do as you wish," the girl concludes, determined eyes trained upon the two before her, anxious for their answer.

Interacting:
Idea
Noam (Tash)
Hanarei (Chalia)

 

[Dante Verren]

Asie Woolgrove
Interaction: Idea


Aise nodded her head along with the man's explanation. She still did not really know what this loreguard business was about, but it seemed like this was her best shot at finding the person she was looking for. Moving to the side she sat down on the side of the road a few feet o the right of the man. Hearing that his waterskin was running low she dug through her bag again before finding her own water skin, offering it up to the man. "Here, if yours is empty you can drink from mine. As for stories I have plenty of those. The problem is which one to tell." Raising her right hand up she reached into her hood and scratched at the base of her horn, a habit she had developed when she started to put more effort into thinking.

"What kind of story do you wish to hear? Perhaps an old elf's tale about the expanse? Or Maybe about the time I first met and orc. I could also share the story of this" she tapped the edge of her mask to indicate towards it. "I also have stories about my own family, a more secluded group of elves. We didn't talk to others much so I have what people would call... a more unique outlook on certain things." a goofy smile passed over her face as a more specific memory cam across her mind. "There is also the time I learned how to cast beam from that mage's book. Nearly caught my own house on fire. My folks and the tree's wouldn't have been too happy about that" she chuckled

 

[Noam]

"I like the idea, but I don't know what gifts we have to offer him." Tash glanced over her shoulder to where the bakery's owner had vanished once it became clear that none of them could afford a decent meal. "After all, it's not like we've got the coin to eat here either. We're just a little cleaner than he is."

But she did like the idea. A lot better than resorting to force or getting the local guard involved, which seemed unnecessary at best and potentially lethal at worst. "Do you think he might go for an exchange of information?" she said slowly, thinking out loud. "He certainly thinks what he knows is valuable. Maybe he'd like to learn about Hendian politics." Though given what she knew about Hend, perhaps politics were a touchy subject. "Or, I don't know, Hendian sword-fighting, or whatever it is you can talk about at length. I'd volunteer my own information, but I'm a priestess by trade, and absolutely no one likes being lectured about religion by a stranger."

And that neatly circumvented the issue of being from the Dacht herself, yet hunting down a loreguard. Just not bringing it up would have to do the trick.

Hanarei King Crimson