PI: The Warrior's Respite (Aveas, Sam 29th, ET)

[Grant]

Where a sign once proclaimed this to be the Pan's Touch Inn was now a wooden carving of the Eye and a cloth sign bore the name Warrior's Repsite written in charcoal.

The long and lustrous wooden bar looked like a lady slumming among the roughly made tables and chairs that filled the rest of the room. Loud laughter over the clank of metal tankards filled the room as the soldiers washed down their meals with flagons of ale and wine.

-----------

Bartran lead the newly-arrived group into the tavern, his wet boots cutting new ruts into a muddy and soupy floor. Everywhere the new arrivals went in Aveas, there seemed to be only mud...mud in the tavern, muddy water at the Portal room...even the great market square through which they passed, the Quartermaster's Square, was dirty and dingy with mud as if a recent rain had washed it up to coat everything in it's dark morass.

The woodsmen were collected in a snug towards the back. There were four...but the careful eye could see several more, collected around the taproom and spread out to avoid suspicion as well as to insure security in the room. They were far from alone however, as there were countless other mercenaries, soldiers, and serving staff slipping through the crowded establishment serving out watery ale, cheap wine, and immature, short beer to those that could afford it.

"We're in the back, back there," directed Bartran, stepping aside such that Rhoddin, Reise, and Brytan could move through. All three received only cursory glances from the other denizens of the pub, having clearly dismissed them as mercenaries. "Have a seat, and we'll report the situation we already have," offered Bartran, pointing towards a few of the rare, empty seats around the back table occupied by several of the Royal Wardens.

[Reise Silverskye]

Reise wrinkled her nose in distaste as the entered the inn. It was dirty, crowded, and from the smell of the drink, served cheap products. And it was probably overpriced, as well. All in all, it was not the sort of place she liked to hang around in. Hopefully, they would not be here long. She wanted to get the information they were after, and then leave, preferably to someplace less crowded and a lot more quiet. She was tired, and she wanted to be able to rest peacefully.

Still, there was work to be done, and she intended to do. She kept her senses alert, trying to catch snatches of conversation and looking around to see if she recognized any faces. She doubted she would, but it had already proven to be a small world, and frankly, she wouldn't have been surprised to see some of the people she'd met during her first trip to King's Court here. She could only imagine what they'd be doing, but she had to admit it would be helpful to have a potentially friendly contact or two here.

As they approached the back table, she focused her attention on the ones already seated there. She didn't know who they were, but at least the table seemed to be out of the main hustle of things, if only a bit. As loud as it was in here, she could only hope they'd be able to hear each other talk over the noise.

[Brytan]

Seedy taverns...Brytan's kinda place. Not for the fact that they were seedy and dark, but for the things he could do when there. People always spoke more and payed attention less in such places. Easy spots to pick up a mark or two to rob later or get information out of sooner. Brytan's survival instinct went directly to the entrances and exits, he did a count of the number of people in the room and decided this would be a bad place to attract too much unwanted attention, particularly considering their mission.

Their mission...Find out what has been going on here on Pan's Isle, report back to the King when he arrives in a short while and make sure to get a feel for who'se in charge and how cooperative they'll be. Recon.

Gotta love it.

Brytan winked at the lady behind the bar, out of habit more than out of interest. Bartenders and especially waitresses were fonts of information. He couldn't help but think back at Taquar this time though.

He sat himself down at the indicated table and raised his hand indicating he required service. He did a cursory check of his purse and decided to play the part he had been dealt.

"Drinks anyone?"

[Rhoddin]

Rhoddin left the Portal room with a mixture of anger and frustration. Clearly there was a gathering of soldiers here, but from what they had just overheard, there was a clear lack of leadership, well coordinated leadership anyways. And he was still to reconcile himself with a pack of orcs, apparently under some sort of control of the man they had seen directing proceedings in the Portal room. Now that didn't make any sense, at all.

The young bard had kept the cowl of his cloak over his head, effectively keeping his face in shadow, and trailed along behind the others as they followed Bartran to the inn. As they walked through the township, the young man allowed his senses to roam, searching for any overt use of etheric power, or any usual disturbances.

Damned mud, worse than dust at times. Wonder why? Maybe the number of men that have passed through has churned everything up. Rhoddin tried to tally what he was seeing, with what they had overheard earlier. Clearly divided forces, although nominally on the same side, and new soldiers and mercenaries arriving by the wagon load. I doubt Balthasar is going to be thrilled to pieces by this!

As they entered the Inn, Rhoddins senses came back to the present. Ye gods, its a flea pit. Reise will love this, not. A half grin crossed his face as he took a look at his favorite companions face as they entered.

As they mage their way to the table at the rear, Rhoddin asked Bartran quietly, "Who was that man directing traffic at the Portal?" Even as he spoke, Rhoddin surveyed the taproom, noting several other Royal Wardens in addition to those collected at their table.

[Reise Silverskye]

Reise shook her head in disgust as she noticed Brytan winking at one of the women behind the bar. Flirting with someone, and maybe even getting intimate with them for the purpose of acquiring information or a better position in whichever situation one found herself at the time was one thing, but doing it just for the sake of flirting or to gain temporary physical gratification was another matter entirely, and she didn't approve of it. Nevertheless, as much as she detested that particular character trait in men, she knew that Brytan might have just given her a valuable tool. If his desire for women was as prevalent as that wink might lead one ot believe, she could use that, should he prove to have anything she ended up wanting. Men who tended to spend a lot of time with women tended to talk a lot to those women.

Of course, this was all speculation on her part, and she had no way of putting her theory to the test. Nor did she have a reason to... not yet.

Brytan's offer to get them drinks interrupted her thoughts. "No, nothing for me, thank you," she muttered. "It would not surprise me if all they serve here is muddy water with a bit of flavoring in it anyway. I doubt they can even afford to acquire real ale in an establishment like this." She grimaced down at the spot she was going to sit at, next to Brytan. "Then again, maybe they can afford real ale, and they simply imbibe it all themselves. That would explain why their ability to clean anything at all has been completely inhibited."

With an exasperated sigh and a few muttered curses, Reise set about looking for something to wipe her spot with, so she could sit down.

[Rhoddin]

As the young man waited for Bartran to reply, he couldn't help but smile at Reise's response to Brytan, and her reaction to their seating didn't surprise him all that much either.

Putting his hand in his carryall, he sort around for a cloth, or piece of material, handing a smallish remanent of a linen shirt to Reise for her to wipe her seat with.

"Just an ale thanks." Rhoddin nodded towards Brytan, although agreeing with Reise about the likely quality of the drink, even a watered down ale would be appreciated right about now.

[Reise Silverskye]

Reise smiled a bit as Rhoddin produced a piece of fabric for her to wipe her seat with. "Thank you," she murmured. She took a few moments to wipe the spot on the bench off. It still wasn't clean when she was done, but it was better. The piece of tunic, of course, was worthless for anything else, so after looking around for a moment, she tossed it against the wall with a wrinkle of her nose.

She sat down, still saying nothing, studying the other occupants at the table.

[Rhoddin]

Rhoddin looked around the room, and gathering his thoughts turned to Bartran. "So Master Bartran, who was that man at the Portal? It seems that he is welcoming an odd assortment of people to the Isle." The young bard just couldn't get over the pack of Orcs he had seen, and smelt. And although he had asked the question earlier, he clearly wanted an answer for the Kings Warder.

"Where are all these folk coming from, do you know?" Rhoddin had noted several different uniforms and tabards when they had arrived, and it seemed there was a hotch potch of forces and even armies present here.

[Brytan]

Brytan too was interested to know what information Bartran could lend as to their arrival. He leaned in a bit as both Reise and Rhoddin exchanged words and questions with the man, and in the meantime keeping track of the orders of the people at their table so as to pass it along to the waitress who still hadn't made an appearance at their table.

"Where ever they're from, they seem to be armed to the teeth and ready for a fight. I had no idea things were that bad on this end."

He spoke a little louder than he needed to and silently hoped that remark would lure one of them, Bartran or another into saying something about the "enemy". Insults and ego worked well when prodding people for information. If they had things under control they wouldn't hesitate to mention it and if they didn't he expected a long silence. Either way he'd know a little bit more...

[Vanadius]

OOC: I beg for your patience just a while longer while I await some details on this thread. I promise I'll jump in the minute I can and proceed!. Until then, feel free to continue your wonderful reactions and interaction.

Thanks!

[Vanadius]

Bartran pulled the group into a close huddle, careful not to allow prying ears to hear.

"Now see, here's the thing. Governor Maglio was the man directing traffic at the portal. Some say he's a good King's man, but me and ol' Storch here, we here something quite different. We hear that the "govnah" has questionable loyalties and sympathizes with a few of these Panlings."

He rubbed the side of his nose in anticipation.

"What we need to do is do a little watching and stake out the Governor and find out where his true loyalty is."

Bartran's eyes landed on Reise.

"You look to be about his type. Care for some pillow talk with the Governor?"

[Rhoddin]

As Bartran spoke Rhoddin took in the meagre information, Hmmm, the Governor is he, that explains his presence at the gate, but what in the seven hells was he doing allowing Orcs onto Pans Isle?

As the Kings Warder made his play for Reises assistance, Rhoddin nearly snorted his ale out of his nose, he wasn't sure if the man valued his life that much, but he was certainly playing with fire here. This could be quite, umm, educational.

The young bard barely managed to contain himself and awaited for Reise's response, be still intended to question Bartran, assuming he could still talk, about the Orcs, Be damned if a friend of the Panlings would let loose a pack of Orcs on Pans Isle.

[Reise Silverskye]

Reise was listening intently to what Bartran had to say, but she did a double take at the mention of pillow talk. She tried to control her reaction, but she was fairly certain that everyone else in their little group caught it. Now come on, she reprimanded herself. I can't be this jumpy. I told myself a long time ago that I would need to be willing to use my body if it got me what I wanted. After all, that's what happened with Rhoddin, right? Only, she'd gotten intimate with the young Bard mostly because she wanted to, not because she had to.

She cleared her throat and glanced at Rhoddin to gage his reaction. I wonder what he would think of me engaging in... pillow talk... with the Governor. Well, if I can keep this professional, maybe he won't mind so much....

"Exactly what sort of work are we talking about here?" she asked. "A one night deal, or... more significant?" She wanted to ask, What's in it for me? but she didn't want to ask that just yet. There would have to be some benefit to her. Otherwise, the whole war could go to hell and she wouldn't care.

[Rhoddin]

Rhoddin had unconsciously held his breath, half expecting an explosion from Reise, however her response acted to take his breath away, rather than cause if to explode.

The young man was to be honest a bit chestfallen at the possibility that Reise hadn't been swept off her feet by him, but he was still surprised she seemed to be possibly agreeing with Bartran. Still, it's her decision boyo, and she will do what she will do.

It only took a flicker, and Rhoddin managed a smile, albeit a bit forced, it was Reises decision, and they certainly needed the information so if she chose to take this path then it wasn't his place to intervene.

"The governor doesn't know what he's in for," Rhoddin commented under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, lucky bugger, he did manage to keep that to himself though.

[Grant]

"Oh, just a few compelling conversations should do it, per'aps," replied Bartran, his gaze slipping off down and to the left...a curious habit of his when he was thinking. "He's a proud man. A Mouthie, of course...and I don't know much about him, save that he was born into his job. He's related...closely related...to the Magister Primus of World's Mouth, Simon Maglio himself. I don't know if that's true...and I don't know if the rumors are true about Panlings...but it'd be a great start to find out. If you think that's useful...?"

This last directed to Rhoddin, along with comments from the man Bartran had called "Storch". "We've got ten woodsmen we brought in a tide ago. They're scattered around the tavern and the town...ready to move at a moment's notice. From asking around, we've learned a few things already..." here the woodsman lifted his fingers, counting off each item he knew to all three of the new arrivals. "Maglio is...technically in charge of Aveas as the guv'nor. But this...Father Rathe has been behind him, calling the shots through the church. Wull, Father Rathe left a while ago...took most of the Paladins and Reds with him..." by Red, Storch would mean the Purificatio. The actual Inquisitors, Confessors, and Soldiers that worked directly for the Ordo Purificatio. "...and since then, troops have continued to 'port in."

"I've seen mercenaries from World's Mouth...Kingstones...Vanguard...several kinds of legionnaire...I've seen orcs come through the portal, and nomads from Terra Incognita. There've been a few Dragon Knights...a few independent nobles...and all of 'em comin' here, maybe to fight," continued Bartran. "Best I can tell, they're all hired by Maglio, maybe? Don't know for certain. Maybe they're adventurers, seeking some kind of payday? But we do know that Maglio didn't send any troops along with Father Rathe when he marched east towards Gatetown."

The two woodsmen exchanged a look, realizing that they hadn't explained Gatetown. "Gatetown is..." Storch hesitated. "...the Panling stronghold. Ah...it's where they fled, and where they're collecting to fight. At least most of them are collecting there. And it has a Portal. No one knew exactly where it was until several scout groups and the Air Flotilla reported it back earlier today. That's why Father Rathe marched. He found out where they were hiding...and he's moved out to...confront the pagans."

"Which brings us back to Maglio," continued Bartran, taking up the story from Storch. "Maglio didn't help Father Rathe this time. Rumor has it they had a big fight in private before the priest left. No one knows what was said exactly, but I suspect it had something to do with Father Rathe's current invasion. That's probably why we're hearin' rumors about Maglio's potential insurrection. It might be wise if one of us...found out about him, and just what's motivating him. You never know..." Bartran gave Reise a casual look. "He might get talkative when he's drunk?"

"Beyond that, we don't know much," Storch spoke again, this time to Rhoddin to summarize. "That's all we know. There's another faction here on the island as well...a Fort Dusk...but no one here seems to know much about it. Or if they do, they aren't talking. We might have to actually hit the bush to find out about that one. I do know that Fort Dusk is about three tide's travel NorthEast of here...and that it's hard to miss when you get close to it."

[Reise Silverskye]

Reise took in the information that Bartran was giving them, trying to formulate some sort of plan. Lots of men were plenty talkative when they were drunk. The problem was, not many of them actually made any sense when they talked. Most just rambled, and that left whoever was listening the long, tedious, and often inaccurate task of trying to piece together useful information from the nonsense.

But when a man had his arms around a pretty woman who was minus her clothes, he answered her questions just as readily, and often much more coherently. Especially when that woman was offering him something that every man wanted: a few moments of mind numbing pleasure.

She gazed at Rhoddin for a moment, and she noticed the forced smile. She heard his comment, and thought he sounded a little bitter. I guess he likes me more than I thought, she mused. It's too bad I have this choice right now, so early... because I like him too.

"Conversations," she echoed. "I think I can handle that."

[Sweeney]

As the huddled group in the snug were deeply engaged in conversation, they probably did not notice the entrance of Sweeney into the tavern, but anyone else present would have to be blind or well into his cups not to perceive the half-giant as he deftly navigated his bulk through the door, amongst the Eveningtide crowd, and into the first empty seat he could find. From his seat, Sweeney imperiously ordered two ales from the nearest barmaid: one for himself and one for Hastarl, the adhiel who'd accompanied him from the portal. Outwardly, he maintained an air of joviality, but in reality he was growing more pessimistic and embittered about his situation: drafted into an army against his will; stripped of his possessions; transported to Gods-know-where to fight Gods-know-whom; and, by the looks of things so far, at the mercy of incompetent and and disorganized leaders. He had reached the conclusion that a serious drunk was the only prescription for his current mood, and so he set about beginning his treatment.

[Rhoddin]

The young bard listened to the two Warders taking in their information, and trying to process it for himself. It seemed there were at least two factions nominally on the Kings side, and the Panlings, whom Rhoddin assumed were the natives of the Isle, or at least the previous inhabitants. And then there were those at Fort Dusk, whatever in the seven hells that was.

Now if this Father Rathe was off to confront the Panlings, and Maglio had stayed here, what was his purpose? Clearly the political powers of the Mouth were here for purposes other than the purification of the Isle, as Balthasar had guessed, that was just a ruse and they had other fish to fry. Well, maybe Reise could pry that out of the governor, rhoddin knew he'd talk after a few burns with Reise, just to keep her close.

And it was pretty clear what Rathe was after, a few warders to keep an eye on him might be in order though.

Then there was Fort Dusk. Now there was a mystery, and maybe one that could do with a bit more investigation.

At about this time Rhoddin noticed the enterence of a half giant and his much smaller companion, an elf maybe. As they sat seperately he paid them little heed at this time.

"Well Bartram, I suggest that we need to keep on eye on several factions at once. As this Father Rathe is heading towards the Panlings, maybe a few of your woodsman might follow him and his cohort. That would keep us appraised on what two of the factions are up to.

"And if Reise is prepared to gather some intelligence on the good Governor, then maybe either yourself or Storch should stay and keep a close eye out for her." Here the young bard kept his voice detached and calm, trying hard not to display his concern for this part of the venture.

"And perhaps Brytan, myself and a couple of the other woodsman could head out towards this Fort Dusk, and get a feel for what transpires there. "

Rhoddin turned towards Reise, "We need to know what the Mouth is up too. I think there is more than a holy crusade here, Maglio seems to have split from the good Father, and that could only be because they have different agenda's. I'm sure heron would be interested in what the Moths agenda actually is.

"Are we agreed, or does someone else have any other ideas? Always open to ideas." And Rhoddin waited to hear what the others thought.

[Hastarl Ras'diath]

Hastarl and Sweeney entered the tavern, and Hastarl really felt the mood inside of it. Laughter all over and the sounds of metal tankards. This was exactly what he combined with tavern. His companion seemed to enjoy it as well, as they walked to their table and sat down. This is just what I need, he thought as he received his ale. To get away from the thought of being in war.

When he had stood there in front of the little broad man and the lieutenant, he became more and more confused. This was not at all what he had expected, when he agreed to join the legions. This wasn't his strong sides at all. He had never touched a sword in his life, in Taquar. He did carry a dagger, but that wasn't at all comparable to the shortsword he had picked.

He looked at the half-giant and said: "Well, lets hav' a tast," as he lifted the tankard in a gesture and took a sip of it.

[Sweeney]

Sweeney surveyed the busy tavern while he waited for Hastarl to be seated and for their drinks to arrive. As soon as both had occurred, the half-giant grabbed his ale and offerred a brief toast. "To the One God, Dominicus!" he proclaimed, voice dripping with not-very-well concelaed sarcasm. He drained the beer in a single swallow and immediately signalled a server for more.

"So tell me friend," he said at length. "How'd you get mixed up with this mess? I'm here 'cause of a coupla skittish mules an' not listenin' to people when I oughta had." Sweeney glowered at his empty cup and hoped a replacement woiuld be coming shortly.

[Grant]

Shrugging at Rhoddin's orders, Bartram replied without hesitation. "Sounds good to me. I'll head East behind the Oneists and keep an eye on 'em with a couple guys. Storch, you'll stick around here and keep an eye out for the lady...and keep a man here, in the tavern, too...in case we need to communicate quickly. In fact, put Sara on that...see if she can get hired on as a barmaid or something. I bet this place will get a hell of a lot busier in the coming tides, so she might manage it easily. Take a couple more men, Storch, and keep them in town with their ears open, too. Finally, we'll send Kevin and James with Rhoddin and Brytan towards Fort Dusk. They're probably the best for that sort of thing, I think. Good trackers, and a pretty fair hand with a bow."

"Now, if that's decided, I guess we're set to go. We're not expecting Heron until tomorrow Morningtide...and one he gets here, we'll feed him information as quickly as we get it," murmured Bartram, sitting back and glancing out into the taproom with every appearance of leisure. The taproom was literally full of what could only be soldiers and contract mercenaries, all of them armed and most of them loud and boisterous. "I'll go put everything in motion, then. Good luck!"

Rising, Bartram moved to leave the table and exit the inn to organize the scouts. He left Storch behind, still seated at the table with Brytan, Rhoddin, and Reise, appearing thoughtful and nursing a half-consumed beer.

[Reise Silverskye]

The suddenness with which things were decided seemed abrupt, and it startled Reise a bit. She agreed with Rhoddin's plan; it seemed very sound and well thought-out. But one moment they were talking, and the next, Bartran was headed out to set things in motion.

For a long moment, she just sat there, staring at the table. The implications of what she'd just agreed to do were running through her mind. She saw a dozen ways in which everything could work out spectacularly well. But she also saw many more ways in which they could end up horribly. One of them...

She glanced over and Rhoddin, and on an impulse, she took his hand and stood. "Rhoddin, I need to speak to you for a moment," she murmured in his ear, just loud enough to be heard. "Alone."

[Rhoddin]

Rhoddin watched as Bartran headed out, preparing to set the wheels of the next part of their journey in motion. Looking at those remaining at the table, he was about to pose a question to Storch, when Reise took his hand and asked to speak to him, alone.

The young bard nodded his head, looking to the others he commented, "Gentlemen, a moment if you please." Standing he looked around, and led Reise off to a quiet corner.

Smiling gently he spoke quietly to her, "Yes my lady, I am yours to command." He hadn't meant the words to be flippant, he actually meant what he said.

[Grant]

Bland, bland, bland.

It was no great surprise for those that were experienced with battlefields or military occupations. Both Hastarl and Sweeney found the beverages in the tavern to be rather bland and somewhat watery...a sensible precaution given that the tavern's only clientelle these days seemed to be soldiers of one affiliation or another.

And that's exactly what they found today. Soldiers everywhere...everything from legionnaires, Dragon Knights, Vanguard, Kingstones, conscripts, mercenaries...everything except Oneists, who apparently marched earlier in the day. Despite the busy activity in the tavern, the pair found a free spot at a table and managed to settle in quite comfortably.

[Sweeney]

While waiting for a refill of of his watery ale and a reply from his new adhiel friend, Sweeney took a closer look at the tavern's denizens. The place was crowded with soldiers of all descriptions, and the new conscript recognized few of them. In fact, the one type of soldier he was familiar with, the red-clad Purificatio, were conspicuously absent from the room. Fr4om snippets of overheard conversation, the half-giant gleaned that a "Oneist army" had marched from the town earlier that day. he found this strange. Why had the Purificatio bothered to round up pagan "volunteers" if they weren't even going to use them in battle? "I know wars don't often make sense, but this one seems just plain stupid..." he remarked to nobody in particular.