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jaydude

Four Thousand Club
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He is interrupted when Merione comes to hand out mugs, quickly filled with coffee for those who'd like to take her up on the offer.
Rodrik thanked the would-be divorcée and took one of the mugs for himself. After what he'd heard, he wanted to recover from his bad night's sleep as soon as possible.

Aysik takes a few deep breaths as he thinks, then simply says, "Of course, sir. When do we leave?" You can sleep when you are dead, soldier! In the meantime, march on.
"From the sound of it, as soon as the horses are here." the dwarf quipped to the nobleman.

  1. How much would you say we're allowed to know about fighting undead?
  2. Assuming we don't know a lot, are there any books on the subject in Jordenin's library that Rodrik can borrow?
 

Dannigan

Kaerri's Man. =)
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He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, then asks: "Questions?"
"Just one!" Dreamy raises her hand. Once acknowledged, she looks at the cauldron and then back to Lord Jordenin. "Before we go, did you want another mug, sir?"

Only after Lord Jordenin responds and she sees that everyone in the party who wants some has some does Dreamy take one of her own from Merione. Her excited and fatigue-weighted words string together rapidly as she takes in the joy of good coffee. "Mmmm! This is sooo gooood, just what I needed, where did you get these beans? Desna be praised! Thank you, my lord and Miss Merione too!" Dreamy gradually and gratefully drains the warm mug she's cradling with both hands. If there seems to be plenty, she refills her own traveling mug and iron pot (for where, she thinks, are they going to get coffee later? Not like the undead will be serving any. And if somehow they are, she imagines their coffee would be... stale. Very, very stale).

On could be called a whim... as her brain turns on with the coffee warring with the fatigue inside of her, Dreamy's gaze slowly turns and lifts toward a certain staring dwarf sitting quietly atop his steed. Casually and respectfully, extra mug in hand, Dreamy approaches Old Raulyn. Only great Desna, goddess of dreamers, knew what might come of this (maybe nothing at all), but still, Dreamy thinks it proper and, well, good to include the mysterious fellow. Besides, he had done no harm and should be included, right? Who liked being the odd-one-out at such get-togethers? No one Dreamy knows. Wish me luck, oh great Desna! She sends the prayer inside her mind heavenward.

"Uhm, hey master dwarf Raulyn sir?" come the stumbling words born of youth and uncertainty. Using her height and with an eager smile, the paladin lifts the warm mug up to what she hopes is easy reach for him. "Would you care for some coffee? It's fresh!" Dreamy figures even if he doesn't notice her, at least the attempt was made. In her ever-curious mind, she cannot help but wonder about him. His eyes stare ever-vacantly like a man lost in a daze. Constantly. Okay. There's that. But does that nose of his still work?

Because nothing beats the smell of fresh coffee in the morning!
 

Silanon

Four Thousand Club
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"From the sound of it, as soon as the horses are here." the dwarf quipped to the nobleman.
"Pretty much." The lord nods, takes another sip - then adds: "The quarter of an hour, I reckon. Should be enough for Graham and Tillie to get the horses prepared, and enough time for you to get your things and grab a bite to eat from the kitchen. I'll ask Iris to fetch a potion or two, just in case. I don't wnat anyone to die in my service, you hear me? If the worst were to happen - your task would be to get everyone out alive, not to die a heroic death. "
"Just one!" Dreamy raises her hand. Once acknowledged, she looks at the cauldron and then back to Lord Jordenin. "Before we go, did you want another mug, sir?"

Only after Lord Jordenin responds and she sees that everyone in the party who wants some has some does Dreamy take one of her own from Merione. Her excited and fatigue-weighted words string together rapidly as she takes in the joy of good coffee. "Mmmm! This is sooo gooood, just what I needed, where did you get these beans? Desna be praised! Thank you, my lord and Miss Merione too!" Dreamy gradually and gratefully drains the warm mug she's cradling with both hands. If there seems to be plenty, she refills her own traveling mug and iron pot (for where, she thinks, are they going to get coffee later? Not like the undead will be serving any. And if somehow they are, she imagines their coffee would be... stale. Very, very stale).
"Most certainly, yes." Emptying his mug, Jordenin passes it over for another refill. "Keeps the bones warm, in nights like these. And the mind awake, too. May Abadar bless good old Fernon; broght these beans all the way from Pearl, and never once doubted that I'd take them all. Clever haggler." As the lord silently watches Dreamy wait, a smile shows on his lips - and it grows wider when she takes her share for the road, for there is plenty enough for that in the cauldron.

On could be called a whim... as her brain turns on with the coffee warring with the fatigue inside of her, Dreamy's gaze slowly turns and lifts toward a certain staring dwarf sitting quietly atop his steed. Casually and respectfully, extra mug in hand, Dreamy approaches Old Raulyn. Only great Desna, goddess of dreamers, knew what might come of this (maybe nothing at all), but still, Dreamy thinks it proper and, well, good to include the mysterious fellow. Besides, he had done no harm and should be included, right? Who liked being the odd-one-out at such get-togethers? No one Dreamy knows. Wish me luck, oh great Desna! She sends the prayer inside her mind heavenward.

"Uhm, hey master dwarf Raulyn sir?" come the stumbling words born of youth and uncertainty. Using her height and with an eager smile, the paladin lifts the warm mug up to what she hopes is easy reach for him. "Would you care for some coffee? It's fresh!" Dreamy figures even if he doesn't notice her, at least the attempt was made. In her ever-curious mind, she cannot help but wonder about him. His eyes stare ever-vacantly like a man lost in a daze. Constantly. Okay. There's that. But does that nose of his still work?

Because nothing beats the smell of fresh coffee in the morning!
So - at a table, you'd see me roll some dice, now. Is the result for Old Raulyn good or bad? Who knows...
As the paladin offers him a drink, the old dwarf... doesn't respond to that at all. And yet, words or smell (or both?) seem to have some sort of effect. Indeed, he turns slightly, towards Dreamy, but the eyes don't recognize her presence or the mug. Instead, they seem to search the distance, staring southeastwards towards the horizon. And the hand not holding the reins follows the texture of his leather belt until it finds the grip of a sharp throwing axe tucked behind it.
 

Psychie

Princess Psychie
Amber is used to being able to travel light, so it will not take her long to get ready, even with as tired as she is. "I can be on the move in just a few minutes, m'lord. I just need to gather a few things." She wonders if she should bring up the strange dream that they all seemed to share, but doesn't know how to breech that subject without sounding crazy.
 

Silanon

Four Thousand Club
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The lord nods as he hears those words, looks over to Amber to say something himself - and hesitates. She can't be certain what gave her pondering away - maybe the way she spoke, maybe the pause after she finished. What matters is that this well-familiar, inquisitive look appears on his face, the one that tells that he knows that something's amiss, but can't tell what, exactly. Instead of asking directly, however, he takes a guess - one that is off, but brings up another topic of possible concern. "It'll be fine, Amber. For everyone. Words will spread to the streets in time as well, I'm sure. If there is a way to reach out to your old friends, though, let Iris know and she will get it done." He is, of course, talking about Amber's old gang out there, possibly at risk when things go wrong.
 

Dannigan

Kaerri's Man. =)
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"Heart - Nothin' At All (Official Video)"


As the paladin offers him a drink, the old dwarf... doesn't respond to that at all. And yet, words or smell (or both?) seem to have some sort of effect. Indeed, he turns slightly, towards Dreamy, but the eyes don't recognize her presence or the mug. Instead, they seem to search the distance, staring southeastwards towards the horizon. And the hand not holding the reins follows the texture of his leather belt until it finds the grip of a sharp throwing axe tucked behind it.
Dreamy watches Old Raulyn's every move though it is plain on her pretty face that she has no earthly idea what is going on behind those dwarven eyes of his. People like he and Yanna sure had this strange tendency to look off in one particular direction and just... go bye-bye for awhile! Well, Dreamy reasons, who is she to judge? Casually, she makes her way back to Lord Jordenin while carrying two mugs in her hand. She offers the extra mug to anyone who appears the slightest bit drowsy or thirsty.

"Most certainly, yes." Emptying his mug, Jordenin passes it over for another refill. "Keeps the bones warm, in nights like these. And the mind awake, too. May Abadar bless good old Fernon; broght these beans all the way from Pearl, and never once doubted that I'd take them all. Clever haggler." As the lord silently watches Dreamy wait, a smile shows on his lips - and it grows wider when she takes her share for the road, for there is plenty enough for that in the cauldron.
While they waited for their mounts to arrive, Dreamy couldn't help but want to make the most of what was left of their time together with Lord Jordenin. Only Desna knew when they would see this wonderful human guy again!

"Y'know, your lordship," she offers a curl of a smile to Lord Jordenin, "one of these days I'm going to get around to asking you about that hip injury of yours and if there's a single thing people like us might do to help you with it." Dreamy indicates the entire party, for each of them had their own tales, their own pasts, and their own ways of taking on challenges. Who was to say that one of them or their combined talents couldn't come to some solution to help Lord Jordenin with this blasted injury of his. It did Dreamy's mood no good to see him in pain and she was convinced she was far from alone in that feeling!

Pushing her bright blonde ponytail over her shoulder, Dreamy can't help but wistfully sigh. "Desna as my witness, sir, I'd haul myself all the way back offshore and back to the Twilight Reaches to ask my dad for some of his 'home remedies' if I thought it would bring you just a single day of peace." The paladin ponders, stares at the lord's injury, then looks back at the kindly man as she takes another drink of her coffee. "Come to think of it, the rest of the band have their own 'remedies' too. But those wouldn't do you a lick of good unless you had them here, now would they? Hmph!"

Inside her mind, Dreamy thinks while glancing with a touch of youthful impatience in the direction of the manor stable. "Where are these horses and will I make my 70th birthday before they get here?"
 

Kaerri

Dannigan's Lady
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Before she can even offer her aid, Fijit is already faced with the distinct scent of coffee coming from the cauldron; not quite a breakfast in itself, but a gesture that keen, attentive minds might be needed, and not just a group of half-asleep helpers. The gnome's help is clearly appreciated by Merione: "Thank you, m'lady, praise the gods for your kindness. The thing's heavier than I thought, but the Lord said to make enough for all. I'll get out a few mugs right after." With that, she allows Fijit to get a hold of the handle, and help carry the pot over to the others. The gesture brings a smile to Jordenin's lips, and so does Dreamy's; the Lord is a man who finds joy in seeing other people's thoughtfulness for those around them. Still, the smile fades all too fast, replaced by an expression of pain. Wordlessly, he makes the last few steps until he can take a seat in the carriage, then sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. When they open once more, they are focused, and quickly wander to find all of you gathered nearby.
Only the comforting scent directly under her twitching nose keeps Fijit from replying, It isn't the gods helping, it's me! Her second thought is that perhaps that's a bit blasphemous, so it's just as well she didn't say it. Her third thought is, It's far too early for philosophy, so just get some coffee in your belly, silly gnome, and keep your mouth shut until you know what's going to come out of it before it does. Which she does. Just barely polite enough not to push for being the first one, she accepts a mug as soon as it's offered and steps aside so the others can get theirs.

"Pretty much." The lord nods, takes another sip - then adds: "The quarter of an hour, I reckon. Should be enough for Graham and Tillie to get the horses prepared, and enough time for you to get your things and grab a bite to eat from the kitchen. I'll ask Iris to fetch a potion or two, just in case. I don't wnat anyone to die in my service, you hear me? If the worst were to happen - your task would be to get everyone out alive, not to die a heroic death. "
Drinking hot coffee as fast as she could had prevented her being the first to ask how long they had to prepare. The answer isn't ideal, but it isn't terrible either. She weighs up breakfast against getting her alchemical work done, and comes to a conclusion she's reached before on similar occasions. Mentally wincing at the state her equipment would be in until she has a chance to clean it up properly, Fijit decides a second cup will have to do in lieu of food, at least until lunchtime.

"We'll be careful," she promises in response to Jordenin's injunction. It might sound surprising to the others, given the sounds and particularly smells that issue forth from her outdoor laboratory on a semi-frequent basis. Or maybe the fact that she's survived all of them implies a certain caution? It's not luck, of course. Relying on luck is for those who didn't plan ahead properly. Speaking of which...

"Most certainly, yes." Emptying his mug, Jordenin passes it over for another refill. "Keeps the bones warm, in nights like these. And the mind awake, too. May Abadar bless good old Fernon; broght these beans all the way from Pearl, and never once doubted that I'd take them all. Clever haggler." As the lord silently watches Dreamy wait, a smile shows on his lips - and it grows wider when she takes her share for the road, for there is plenty enough for that in the cauldron.
Fijit takes her own refill and nods to Lord Jordenin. "And no wonder, it's good stuff! Back in about ten minutes." She scampers around the building to her lab. Not the inside one; she doesn't have time to clean it and the outdoor one will be fine after the next rainstorm, so she's not leaving any extra work for anyone. As she measures, mixes, pours, and bottles what she's likely to need for the day, her movements are swifter than usual, but just as sure -- these are things she's done dozens of times before. As long as she stays focused, she doesn't need to think about individual steps. And she does stay focused, unusually so. One might even think her oblivious to the outside world, for she responds to no external stimuli, only the work at hand. After capping each bottle, she takes a swig from the coffee mug before moving on to the next. At the end of her predicted time, the mug is empty and her flasks are filled. Her equipment is indeed a mess, but most of the mess she bundles into oiled cloths and loads into her pack for later cleaning. Only a few drips and new stains are left on the counter when she leaves it to rejoin the others.

Fijit is taking advantage of the "quick prep" rule to get her alchemical supplies for the day:
Extracts: Expeditious Retreat, Polypurpose Panacea
Bomb catalysts: 4
Mutagen: Constitution
 

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