March 1-2: The Questing Feast on a Fine Sinday Eve

[Mister-Kent]

Grandulo prepares to withdraw, being summoned back to his table with an encouraging wave from a young woman you believe is his daughter. "If you're interested in some work--"

He laughs. "But of course you are! We are Delvers, are we not? Each of us to a man--or woman--is driven by the same thirst for challenge, for worldly experience. If you pay a visit to my table before you retire this evening, and I have something for you, something I believe your group is uniquely able to deal with."

"Also, if you're interested in the Old Nineteenth, I'd suggest you arrive early. Perhaps before the Regent's men, if you'd like to avoid those sort of people." He shrugs, and bids you farewell and good-feast.

The banquet continues--more courses of dinner and desert are offered, many mugs of ale, and the hundred or so Delvers in attendance become increasingly rowdy. The Guild has more members, but they are either off on expeditions or otherwise preoccupied. The Delvers in attendance, however, have shirked all concerns and are focused on revelry.

Mathias notices the young woman who had been ogling him leave her table and retreat into a crowd of feasters dancing drunkenly at the center of the hall. The octopus on her plate remains uneaten--in fact, there's very little trace that she'd eaten anything else at all tonight.

Gul-Marach spies a fellow cleric across the room, a young priestess of Vorn whom he recognizes as Dena Lageer. She approaches with a solemn look. "Hail, Gul-Marach. Blessings of rain," she greets.

(OOC: Feel free to interject any actions during the course of the feast, or before Grandulo leaves you, etc)

[Marullus]

Gul-Marach, Priest of Vorn

Gul-Marach broods in his cups, eating only three of the servings of lamb from the platter. When the members of the group turn their attention to the table, he leans forward and speaks to them intently. "I suggest we investigate this Old Nineteenth issue, then afterwards we can address the Guildmaster's issue. If the Crimson Regent wishes something that lies beneath, it can only serve as doubly-good if we discover it first. Perhaps even going tonight. Biblio, do you have a way to find a hint in the records and archives? How long would it take to know?"


When Dena Lageer approaches, Gul-Marach excuses himself for a moment and rises, returning her greeting. "What news from the cathedral?"

(OOC: Do I know if Dena Lageer is a Delver? Or assuming she is seeking out on other business?)

[Inferno]

Zaent Darkhand, rogue:

Gul-Marach, Priest of Vorn
"If the Crimson Regent wishes something that lies beneath, it can only serve as doubly-good if we discover it first.

Zaent had finished eating, but his mouth moved like it was tasting something it liked.

[Mister-Kent]

(Marullus: Yes, Dena is a moonlighting cleric-slash-Delver like yourself. Multiple guild memberships is pretty common in Caligari, especially Vornheim.)

[Grognardsw]

Grandulo...whispers to Biblo. "Perhaps...I might ask a favor of you all, when our festivities are ended?"

Biblo discretely nods his head in the affirmative to Grandulo.

When Gul-Marach asks Biblo if he can find a hint in the Crimson Regent's records and archives, the libriomancer replies, "I may still have some friends in the right places..."

The bookman recalls the wondrous library of the Crimson Regent; so many books in one place!

[Mister-Kent]

Biblo belongs to a couple of Guilds that seem appropriate to contact on matters such as this, particularly the Scribes or Librarians--which isn't to say his other Guild contacts wouldn't know anything, but those two would be most likely to help.

Gul-Marach, Priest of Vorn
"What news from the cathedral?"

Dena looks as if about to speak, then pauses, and shakes her head. When she finally does talk, her voice is choked with concern. Even as she watches the festivities in the room, she seems distant. "Things are well, as long as our spirits remain high. Well, at least, for now. The High Priest fears spies and traitors within the cathedral. Perhaps White Way Inquisitors, or demon cultists...or some thieves looking to defraud the church."

She crosses her arms. "Or perhaps the High Priest is simply mad with terror since Thrawl's assassination. He has a right to be paranoid, I think. He sat next to the Emperor when he died--a slight mistep and that poison cup could have been his."

Dena sees your group talking amongst themselves. "What are you all up to? Enjoying the feast? I can't say it's exactly my style, you know..."

[jellyfish]

"I quite agree with Gul-Marach. There will be others (despite our guild's rightful claims) and the sooner we leave, the better chance of getting treasure first." Morgan smiles at Dena and compliments her on her eyes and hair, wondering what strictures of discipline the priests of Vorn are held to. With this thought she grabs her goblet and one for Dena and makes a beeline towards the cleric.

[Mister-Kent]

7:40 PM

Dena takes the cup, and the compliments, with great appreciation. "Thank you. I am Dena Lageer, Priestess of Vorn," she says to the group, her sullen mood beginning to lift after the kind welcome. She takes a drink, and smiles at Morgan.

"I...I don't mean to be a bore. Though I did say the party isn't my style, I must confess it does have its merits. I just prefer quieter environs, don't you? A candle-lit balcony at midnight is preferrable to any raucous affair..."

[Marullus]

Gul-Marach, Priest of Vorn

Gul-Marach agrees solemnly with Dena. "The High Priest's worries are not unfounded. I suspect at least that much to be true. It is our duty to work where we may to reveal any deceit that lies beneath the surface, where they work against the Cathedral and our God." He debates saying more, then steps back as Morgan intercedes, allowing the spirit of the gathering to take precedence over somber thoughts.

He looks instead between Zaent and Biblio. "How quickly can we be prepared?"

[Inferno]

Zaent Darkhand, Rogue:

"Now," Zaent replied idly as he set his pipe weed alight. "But what's the hurry?
"Let the Regent's men go first. We'll follow them in, unseen. Make them our stalking horses. I'd rather have them in front of us than behind. Let them take the brunt of whatever lurks there. If they live, and find what the Regent's looking for, we ambush them in their weakened state. They shouldn't be too hard to out-think.
"Girl! More lamb here!"

[Enoch]

Mathias, Illusionist/Assassin

Mathias twists his head to study Zaent for a long moment before nodding in agreement. "Yessss...and if we are clever, none of them will return to tell the tale. I wonder how many the Regent will send, however. Even fools may be a threat, in sufficient numbers."

[Marullus]

Gul-Marach, Priest of Vorn

Gul-Marach ruminates on this, pulling his meaty figners through his wiry beard. This is certainly not a course of action he would have contemplated... but perhaps indirectness is a better approach when overcoming the deceivers. He looks to the others for their thoughts, not responding aloud himself.

[Grognardsw]

Biblo Phyle, phantasorcerer

Gul-Marach, Priest of Vorn... looks instead between Zaent and Biblio. "How quickly can we be prepared?"

"I must consult with my colleagues in The Jabbering Sodality of Dirge Scribes and The Learned Coven of Librarians," says Biblo, drawing on his pipe. He somehow blows a smoke puff of a dragon's head that slowly dissipates. "That would be tomorrow, for the hour is late."

The arcanist is surprised at the mercenary tactics being considered by his delver comrades. They have a sound logic, he supposes, but fall short on good sportsmanship. Then again, it is the delvers guild, not the Honorable Enclave of High Cavaliers.

"I support that approach, if we must," Biblo says reluctantly.

[Fulci]

Ballar Uh, fighter/assassin

Most Vornheimers live for feasts and celebrations. They love to be in the center of everyone's attention, thrive when the music plays and the wine flows in streams.

Ballar Uh is not one of them. Not what they call a people's person. Most days he cannot be sure he is a person at all. An at social gatherings such as this Delvers' Feast, his awkwardness doubles, if not triples. Luckily, his appearance and gloomy manners hide his anxiety - he is perceived by fellow guilders as a lonely wolf, a man of deeds - and not the confused, lost, inhuman thing he is.

So it's no wonder Ballar Uh spends most of the festivity just sitting in a shadier corner, staring at his plate and slowly working his way through a piece of meat. Eating out isn't his thing either. He needs nutrition. But nothing else... The kingdom's best wines and most exquisite meals would be wasted on him. He couldn't even tell the difference between them and a piece of stale bread with the vilest water from the sewers.

He recognizes the tight-knit group of Delvers sitting on the other side of the hall - planning an expedition or celebrating the last one? He doesn't really care. He has been with the Guild for some time, but hasn't found his own band yet, sticking mostly to helping out established groups as a hired muscle - and he earned some respect as such. Ballar Uh is about ot return to his food, when he notices Dena Lageer approaching the Delvers.

Memories flood his mind. Dena Lageer provided him shelter back in the old days... but she didn't ask for anything in return. She didn't need his help. Ballar Uh slowly steered away from her. Maybe now it's time to approach the priestess again?

He stands up from his plate and slowly moves through the dining hall, then stops behind Dena. What was that Vornian greeting formula she always used at the Cathedral? Oh, yes, it was about blessings of... "...of rain," he utters, the thought gradually transforming into speech. "Blessings of rain, Lady Lageer."

Then he looks at the Delver group - and realizes that he probably interrupted an on-going conversation. "I'm awfully sorry, fellows. Just needed to have a word." Is it something a polite person would say? "Um... you enjoying your meals?" he adds, pointing at the half-empty plates.

[Mister-Kent]

Zaent Darkhand, Rogue:
"Girl! More lamb here!"

Before long, the curvaceous Drudge-maid returns and clears her throat before approaching the roguish elf. "I also respond to Maria," she says as she sets the lamb down roughly before Zaent.

Dena raises her eyebrows at Zaent and Mathias's bloodthirsty scheming. She doesn't seem disapproving, but she looks around to see if anyone else has overheard. She looks to Morgan, very curious about her response.

When Ballar Uh arrives among them, a look of fond recognition comes over Dena. "Bal! Blessings! Welcome. These are my new friends, and of course my fellow priest, Gul-Marach. I'm sure I've mentioned him before," she says, indicating the large cleric.

The priestess tilts her head and addresses the group softly. "Hm. If you're looking to be stealthy, I know Ballar Uh could be of use to you." She places a hand on Ballar's shoulder.

"It's okay," she whispers to him with a gentle nudge to the arm.

[Inferno]

Zaent Darkhand, rogue:

Zaent's smile was colder than the hangman's noose.
"Honored guest," he said to the simple giant. "Won't you please join us, my friend? Ballar Uh, was it?"

Zaent generously served up some lamb for his future loyal bodyguard.

[Fulci]

Ballar Uh, fighter/assassin

"Gul-Marach, yes. I remember," Ballar Uh says in a hollow voice. He does remember Dena mentioning Gul-Marach, but he isn't really interested in other people. Yes, other people. Seems like talking with Dena led him into this situation where he has to interact with other people. They are Delvers too, though.

Possibly that's what Dena means, that Ballar Uh could be useful. And it's okay, so maybe she needs him to help.

Ballar Uh sits down and accepts the lamb offered by Zaent. Any irony or coldness is lost on him right now.

"Thank you."

He picks up a knife, but doesn't start eating just yet. He looks around the table, seeing all these veterans. The Mistress Alea never made him work with other henchmen of hers. But the Delvers are a different bunch. And they are not simple henchmen either. And what do they like, most of all? The things they bring back from the expeditions. Not only the loot or treasures, but also the stories. Maybe he can try to tell a story.

"Last week I went to the Tower-that-Scrapes-the-Sky with Ghaled's team."

What else is there to a story?

"But they aren't planning any expeditions right now. I am ready to join you, if needed."

[Marullus]

Gul-Marach, Priest of Vorn

Listening and brooding throughout the conversation, Gul-Marach shifts his bulk on the creaking chair and reaches out a meaty hand to clap on Ballar Uh's shoulder. "I like this one. We give him a chance. Simple and strong, like iron itself... Vorn hammered him with purpose." He smiles approvingly at Dena, his eyes pausing on Morgan, then to the members of the group.

[Inferno]

Zaent Darkhand, Rogue:

"Indeed!" said Zaent. "You are most needed, dear Ballar. Welcome!"

The elf who was beautiful on the outside noticed hesitance among some at his suggestion. Eyebrows were raised and beards tugged. He'd have to sell it. The sooner the better. He lowered his lovely elf voice, "Friends, our group has no heavily armored warriors. All but one of our number is a thief, an assassin or an illusionist. I would humbly counsel that this company's best chance at success resides not with chivalry and fair play but rather with strategies involving deception, trickery and stealth. It is there that our unique talents lie, and our advantage."

[Fulci]

Ballar Uh, fighter/assassin

Ballar Uh, strictly speaking, doesn't have a sense of humor. He cannot read complex irony. But he recognizes paradoxes. When Gul-Marach says 'Vorn hammered him with purpose', his slashed-up lips twist into an unintentional, weird, slant smile. If only he of Vorn knew who hammered Ballar Uh... The good priest would probably object to the Lady Alea playing god.

"Deception, trickery and stealth," he echoes Zaent's words. An attentive listener might notices that at certain moments Ballar Uh doesn't simply repeat the words uttered by others, but copies their intonations as well - but in his new interpretation, the accents and the flow of speech becomes bleak, emotionless.

"I'm good at those things. And I can also fight eye-to-eye if needed. Where are we headed? Any new places opening up?"