Marais de Tarascon: Night of April 10th

[Coan]

"Apologies yes, that is what is called for. However I believe we were just leaving?" Hiro gestures to the door with a shake of the head while looking at Buchvold

[VAN]

[OOC: If anyone wants to swipe and/or snoop inside the satchel the bard left on the floor, do it quick;

Dadrag doesn't have any reason to snoop, he will do it only if Draxton wants him to.

IC> Dadrag relaxes only slightly as sees the Tarlyn's hands. He remains tensed though, studying the elf. He still keeps his right hand close to the rapier's hilt. As waiting Draxton's answer or nod that everything is alright, the ex-assassin notices Crow's clamsy entrance, but he doesn't comment it. His attention gets much more the rush with Hiro and Buchvold are leaving the inn. He looks directly to Draxton's eyes as long as he turns slightly his head pointing the door.

[alhoon]

OOC> Here I am... People are far more active than I am, so you'll excuse me I hope.

IC>

Ooc:George used Darkonese coins.
"Excuse me sir, but I believe we have a mutual acquaintance in Lord Rivtoff.He sends his respects. Might I have a word with you in private, sir, out of earshot, concerning the reason you are here."

Draxton watches the strange elf, naming Rivtoff. A brother. "Yes, I am aquintated with Lord Rivtoff. I wish he is well Right? How is his injured right arm if I may ask? I think he told me the wound would leave a mark..." Draxton watches the elf for any kind of confusion or hesitation as he goes on. "I have no problem to speak privately, but to be sincere, I would prefer if we talked somewhere else, not in this inn." Draxton's gaze follows Buchvold and Hiro. "Someone used blasphemous magics in here and I would like to leave"

OOC 2> Draxton Bluffs to see if the elf really knows Rivtoff or has seen him the last days. SMotive DC =31.

[steveflam]

Tarlyn does really know Rivtoff and isnt lying. "He goes well, Sir. and yes that would be acceptable to go with you somewhere else, and probably better for us.I shall follow you 2, then.

Tarlyn stands and follows Draxton and Dadrag to the entrance, getting his coat.

[steveflam]

Ooc: I'm presuming , Nathan that I'd know if Rivtoff was injured and is healing well?

[Nathan of the FoS]

Ooc: I'm presuming , Nathan that I'd know if Rivtoff was injured and is healing well?

Yes, you'd know. (What's the point of being a bodyguard otherwise? ) He wasn't injured at all, which is probably why Draxton chose that question.

[steveflam]

"Pardon me sir" Tarlyn speaks to Draxton, frowning slightly"But Lord Rivtoff is not injured at all, might you be confusing him with someone else?The last time I saw him he was in fine spirits and health, sir.He is presently at Maison Soulambre."

Clever try, subtle too. These brothers are quite interesting. Hopefully this trek through the swamp will prove eventful and what about Chicken Bone, strange name indeed. Why do these people wish to meet him so badly as to travel through the godforsaken swamp, that remains to be seen.

[Nathan of the FoS]

Her hands itched to make notes and she unconsciously reached for a bag that wasn’t there. Oh… She looked up dismayed, then made a moue as she took out a small notebook and pencil. She flipped to a clear page, and quickly made a few notes, saying, “Mme Larouche, I cannot thank you enough for this.” She put away her notes and then asked, “What may we offer your cousin in thanks for this favour? I’m sure he had better plans for his evening than wandering the swamps during a storm.”

"Oh, I doubt that," Larouche replies, pressing her lips together as if to prevent herself from saying more. "He'll want money, I'm sure; that and the boasting he'll be able to do, and the favor his cousine Jeanne will owe him, will be enough, I think."

Glancing at Gertrude again, she smiles slightly. "Please do bring him back in one piece; he's a good boy, even if he is not so wise in his choice of friends as he might be."

[Pamela]

Gertrude tried to hide her amused smile at the image she was getting of the young man described. “How many of us are wise in our youth?” she laughed, “But I do promise that I will protect him as best as I can. After all, I still owe you a favour, which you can call to help with his…”

Her fingers settled upon the base of her glass, and she took a sip, pausing to consider the question that she had in mind. “Mme Larouche, I have a personal question I would like to ask- personal to me, that is.

“In all my years of studying religion, I have always accepted the reality of gods, but it has always been an intellectual understanding. Ezra in particular has always fascinated as a powerful female. Prayer…I have tried to see it as a meditation or mantra directed towards the immanent divinity of the soul- my own religious upbringing, of course.” She had answered some of the anchorite’s questions about her homeland’s faith, but wondered now just how much she really understood. No more than you of hers, in the end, I suppose…

“I have seen the emotion that people- believers- have put it into their prayers. I have, in my vanity, excused it as superstitious ignorance for those I consider simplistic. Intelligent believers like yourself, and so many other anchorites… I assume that you are like the adepts I know in the Temple. And I understand them no better.”

She began to shake her head. This wasn’t the time for such a talk; this cousin was sure to arrive any moment. But she also now knew that she didn’t want to be caught for any length of time in this touchy, personal topic. Sitting with Larouche, she saw a woman who’d found a way to blend the orthodox and unorthodox, while remaining true to herself. I can never go back to who I was, but is there a way to compromise after all these years?

I miss it.

This admission filled her with a great pang of yearning. She raised her glass to take a sip, using it to conceal her face. The wine now tasted bitter in her mouth, and it took an effort to swallow, as her throat was constricted. “I’m sorry. It is not an easy matter for me, and I know that this is not the time or place- but how- what…” She stopped, feeling like a student again. “I understand some people hear an inner voice, and must learn to discern the soul- or…” She still couldn’t say the word, so hurried on, “- from one’s own personal ego. But what if you hear nothing? How do you pray, if you’ve never done it before?” She began to blush, and took a sip of her wine. Hurry up, Roland, she thought, regretting her disclosure.

[Rotipher of the FoS]

"Yes, I can't think how I didn't see you. It must have been me, friend. I was going too fast, but you see, I have a feeling that the weather may get worse yet. I was in a hurry to get along to my hotel room, in order to avoid the worst."

The bard picks up the Borcan's hint, letting the sheepish grin he displays in feigned embarassment turn briefly genuine. So you are learning, Raphael, and keeping your temper in check. Good lad.

"Then, by all means: go, go at once! Perhaps not so carelessly as I did, barging in here, but with any luck, you'll outrun the worst of it without further mishap."

He nods apologetically to Hiro as well, then resumes rubbing his shin as the duo move outside -- this time without incident -- and turns back to the gambling hall's interior, to "idly" scan the premises and discern which of the others is there at present.

Spotting Serd and Dadrag, standing apart from the crowd with an elf he does not recognize, the VRS spy briefly considers sending the unpleasant Richemulouise off on a wild goose chase, by suggesting a rendezvous somewhere other than Buchvold's inn, but decides against it. As distasteful as the tainted merchant-mage's personality is, his hireling's sharp eyes might well be useful in the bayou, and Draxton's potential as a scapegoat is far too promising.

He wonders what the elf is doing here, of all places, and if either Serd or the Darkonian know anything about him.

[VAN]

Draxton gives the elf a smug smile and a wink, hinting that this was exactly the kind of answer he wanted to listen.
So the merchant and the ex-assassin get their cloaks and they followed by the elf they get out of the inn. Once out, Dadrag leans closr to Draxton and says in low voice so only the wizard can hear him:

"Sir Serd, Hiro and the other merchant friend's of yours, say that they are going to Buchvold's inn. Do you want go there too, just from another way or do you prefer go elsewhere?"

OOC> Since Dadarg was not far away from Buchvold and Hiro I guessed he has heard the borcan's words too. So we can go there too.

[steveflam]

Tarlyn most definitely notices the slight "disturbance" in the entrance and chuckles to himself, Ah humans. He does also notice Crow scrutinizing them and him particularly a little longer than Draxton or Dadrag.

Why must people in this godforsaken nightmarish land find elves so odd? It's too bad I didn't bother asking any elves in Sithicus, instead of making them disappear. I guess it is something I'll have to look into eventually! I don't think I've ever seen it rain anywhere as much as here!And the heat, even to an elf, is almost unbearable! I think I preferred Darkon or even Kartakass(Less the wolves and other creatures I saw). Darkon was passable except for the undead. I think this land is the God's joke on us all. Personally I almost preferred the intrigue and backstabbing of Menzoberranzan and the Spider Queen! Oh well we do with what hand Lolth has given us!

[alhoon]

OOC>

the VRS spy briefly considers sending the unpleasant Richemulouise off on a wild goose chase, by suggesting a rendezvous somewhere other than Buchvold's inn

Draxton wouldn't buy it

IC> "I haven't caught your name sir, how may I call you?" Draxton motions them to go on out walking.

[steveflam]

IC> "I haven't caught your name sir, how may I call you?" Draxton motions them to go on out walking.

"My name is Tarlyn, sir." he whispers to Draxton so only he and Dadrag hear him. Tarlyn keeps a wary eye on the others not too sure what to make of them just yet. "Might we hurry to our destination, all these people make me nervous, sir."

[Rotipher of the FoS]

[OOC: Well, he didn't actually do it, did he alhoon? ]


Watching Serd's party, including the enigmatic elf, step out into the rain, the bard makes a mental note that Dadrag's hearing is most likely as sharp as his vision. Were his ears not highly practiced at eavesdropping, they'd certainly have found a pretense to check with me where Buchvold is off to, after my 'go, go!' outburst. A good thing to know, that.

What were the odds that an elf, of all things, would randomly chance to pass through Port d'Elhour, on the date of the Fraternity's gathering? As likely as a Zherisian professor or an undercover Society agent, if Crow is any judge ... that is, it cannot be coincidence. And if Dadrag's wary stance as the trio passed through the door is any indication -- a wariness directed at the elf in part, not just to any potential threats without or within the casino -- the stranger isn't so well-known to him as to be trusted an inch, let alone hired by Serd with the bodyguard's approval. And Draxton had spoken freely of one hireling earlier, yet nary a word had he said about a second.

If not Serd, then who are you working for, near-fey? Are you the shalach-ti's plant, or someone else's?

Would Van Rijn be so careless -- or so bold -- with his agent...?

It will certainly bear looking into.

For now, however, the bard has but one (considerably more pleasant) associate to await. He abandons the pretense of rubbing at his shin -- the Darkonian hireling has departed, so his natural limp will suffice from here on in to fool the valet -- and graciously accepts the satchel which the man has retrieved for him. As he sets it beside his chair, out of the path of other patrons, a low 'clink' of glass-on-glass can be faintly heard within.

A courteous tip -- moderate, but knowing that the others are unfamiliar with Souragne's cheaper cost-of-living, Crow suspects the servants have been showered with largesse aplenty, for now -- and a request for coffee follow, to refresh his wits and keep himself occupied as he sits back to wait for Kingsley.

(Pity the gambling-hall's background music is as wretched as it was the other night, when he'd won all but two games of Geas, but one can't have everything.)