'Ah... your tone of dismissal wounds me so, ma'am,' Settionne proclaimed quietly, hand over heart as though his breast had been pierced by an arrow. Even so, he followed through on the Elven noble's pointer, taking up the bag of Elven silk and the items contained therein, though the material's value was lost on him. He did, however, perk his head at the mention of a free silver necklace, one enchanted in order to improve his vision at night. "Like walking in a field under a full moon with naught a cloud in the sky", as the lady said... though to Settionne's recollection, he'd never been beneath a full moon that had actually illuminated the night very well, even with the benefit of no clouds to block it out, be they natural or smoke-formed. He supposed it was a flowery metaphor for okay lighting that was common in the Elven tongue, and the necklace itself was very pretty, containing a large number of tiny emeralds in the shape of a sideways X with a vertical line coming off the top-right flange, seemingly emulating the combined crossed fingers and thumbs up that were a symbol of Fineki's cult. He could not say for sure that this meant the Queen or her sister knew the truth about his normal occupation, since it was also a general symbol of luck among Vrettonia's lower class and certain members of the rest of Vrettonian society (and presumably many other civilisations to boot, perhaps even that of Riverhope itself), and felt it would not be wise to ask about it regardless.

The other items were, it seemed to Sett as he pulled the necklace overhead, consumable in nature, though if he could get his hands on any more of the empty jugs of Guarden juice, he could sell them on after the fact for what he presumed would be a pretty penny. A well-made jug is a well-made jug, after all, and even his own weight in gold and jewels wouldn't last forever. He didn't suppose he'd be able to preserve his rations for long enough to retain much of the juice itself, even given that he had his own food supplies available for a substantial amount of travel, but if he could hold off on using the holy water, that'd make for a good starting point as far as his future cathedral went.

Beyond this, the Princess' words were merely directions, and then hardly that for how much of the early path would be set in stone (presuming all went well for everybody involved), followed by a request for questions, and the suggestion that everybody ate and got to know one another before they were dismissed. Sett had no issue with this proposal: since it seemed many of the other guests remained with thumbs up asses, if only for a brief moment, he made the first move towards feeding himself, acquiring as many choice morsels as he reasonably could for his plate before tucking in with gusto, reminding himself to refill his plate once it was empty - though so rich was this banquet compared to his typical fare that he wondered if he'd even succeed in clearing the plate in the first instance. As long as he would be wandering the Southlands, however, he figured acquiring as much sustenance as possible for the days to come would be appropriate, especially for his rather mild frame, for his constitution was one that insisted on little mass no matter how he ate, and even significant weight gained was oft lost within the week... a surprising boon, at least for the lifestyle of a priest.

@The ZAX@Fetzen@POOHEAD189@The Fated Fallen@Lacks@Luminosity

Yaroslav was stunned this Elven royal had just used magic to clean off his robes without his permission. In Andred using magic on someone else was an intimiate act; an act of caring, healing, harming or killing. To use magic on someone without their permission is strictly taboo. The fact that she had used it on him was either a difference in Elven culture and Andred culture or an act of disrespect. Yaroslav suspected the latter.

Despite his feelings of disgust Yaroslav listened as the Elf royal spoke. He noted that Vanya would openly mock the other members of the party as they asked questions or piled on flattery. The half-elf half-giant had asked a useful question and that pompous royal had treated him as a child and the priest had gotten sarcasm in return for his over the top flattery. Yarslav had seen leaders like this in his past, Vanya believed that all the people in this room were worthless. In Yaroslav’s mind there would be one of two reasons she had assembled this team and was now treating them with so little respect. She was expecting this group to fail and her shining royal knights would have to come in and save the day making for a great legend to be told for ages of Vanya the wonderful, or she wasn’t telling the whole truth and this party was to be a distraction destined to meet a horrible end so that the real war party could make its move.

Yaroslav didn’t care what the truth was he knew he wanted to do this quest, not only for the chance to really use his magic but also for the possibility of succeeding and showing this awful Royal not to underestimate the little people. He looked around the room and really studied the other adventures assembled as Vanya finished talking. He knew after a speech like what Her Highness had just given, full of mockery and doom, that moral for this journey would start low he needed to break the mood and give everyone a chance to inflate a little. As the other adventurers looked into the bag of Elven goods Yaroslav cleared his voice, stood, and addressed the other adventurers.

“Hello everyone. I know I have made a very messy first impression with all of you but I would like to make an introduction so that you all will know who will be fighting by your side. My name is Yaroslav and I am a broody scholar mage of the Vailhearth Guild in Andred, as you could tell by my state earlier I have been taking the broody part of scholarship very serious as of late.” He says this will a chuckle.

“My magic is mostly used for battle but I might be able to heal some small wounds if you don’t mind a scar. I am a retired battle mage and a traveling teacher of Andred army tactics” he glances at the half-elf half-giant as he says this not in a threatening manner but to make sure the man did not react badly to this fact, then he continues “and battle magic. If time permits on our journey I will gladly share my knowledge of the killing arts with the other magic users here.” At this he glances at the brown haired female magic user who had somehow escaped his song reading earlier.

“Now I’d like to know who I will be journeying with, and I’d love to share a drink with whoever will be killing the forces of darkness at my side.” At this he grabs a goblet filled with wine off the table and lifts it in the air then takes a deep drink and sits down. He thinks to himself “Well now they for sure think I’m crazy.”

An-Hasst didn't present it to the public around him, but he had noticed the arrogance and ignorance Vanya hat put in their words, especially when she had adressed him. Shouldn't this slut of a wannabe-queen be a bit more respectful with those people that her sister had basically hired herself to save their city ? The discrepancy between what one should expect and what was happening was so obvious than one could derive several suspicions from this... None of them being a benign one.

A bit more harshly than he would have done normally the half-giant grabbed one of the elven silk packs from beneath his seat, opened it and emptied its contents onto the area of the disk in front of him. He didn't doubt the numbers Vanya told them, but he doubted that they would apply to him as well. Since she could not have known who would sit where and thereby prepare different bags, they had to be averages. This fragile looking man over there would certainly need less, while he would need more. Hopefully this would not lead to a distribution battle if things got dire. An-Hasst inspected the other things and found all of them to be of high quality indeed.

"You can teleport the others if you want, but I want one of your steeds to take me to your half-sister." he said with a decisive tone. Hopefully half-sister meant half of the bad attitude as well... The Skayleigh said this after Yaroslav had made his introduction, but without knowing that it was this particular mage that was responsible for his personal anxiety about teleportation. Several of his family members had been with the military, fighting against Andred, and one day they had told him a very ugly story some of their comrades had witnessed. Good luck for the current situation that they had not been able to provide an accurate description of the spellcaster that would still be applicable today.

That didn't spare Yaroslav from An-Hasst approaching him however. He had to bend down his head for not hitting the wooden crossbeams while the floor was creaking with almost every step he made. It was a deliberately slow walk that ended with him crouching down next to elderly appearing man. An-Hasst stretched out his huge hand towards him, ready to be returned the favor for a friendly greeting. His voice however was not so warm-hearted: "Don't worry. It's not a carnivorous plant that will snap close and crush the end of your arm once you touch its center. I've always spared this kind of action for mage apprentices on the battlefield." With a really low and dark voice he added: "Where my family has been decimated..."

He would certainly need a large drink after this. Unfortunately though he didn't know if the beverages in the Southlands could keep up with what he was used to.

Harvan gingerly pulled the silk pouch from beneath his chair and opened it up. He had a little experience working with elven silk from his time with caravans and even though he knew it was strong Harvan felt almost unworthy to handle it.

All of the items were in the pouch as promised. He turned everything over one at a time. Everything was masterfully crafted and Harvan was stunned at the ability of the elves. The detail on everything was amazing, especially the amulet. That amulet is what he was most interested in. Harvan gently put the necklace around his neck, then, looking around quickly to make sure no one was watching, cupped his hands over his eyes to block out as much light as possible. He was unsure but for a second he could swear he could make out the wrinkles of his fingers better than before. He quickly became unsure, realizing he didn't try without the necklace on. Harven dropped his hands and started to take the necklace off when he felt someone brush past him. Looking up he saw the giant of an elf ducking beams on his way to the battlemage.

Harvan quickly tucked the necklace under his shirt and collected the rest of his belongings and followed the giant. Coming up behind the giant and battlemage Harvan heard low threatening tones coming from the giant of a man and Harvan turned right around. He was feeling more and more over his head. These were adventurers. He did not know what the two men were talking about but he could only imagine the stories they must be trading. Harvan had seen his share of adversity and battle but he was no adventurer. This felt like the start of one of the epic tales his grandmother used to tell him. While Harvan had always enjoyd pretending to be on a grand adventure he never really thought he would ever JOIN one!

Smoothing his hair Harvan surveyed the crowd before approaching the talkative man. Harvan was unused to adventuring but he did know people, and this man was deliberatly making an ass of himself or Harvan would turn over his halberd and take up a hoe for the rest of his life. And really, Harvan decided, someone like that would make for a good way to meet everyone else. Harvan would just need to keep a sharp watch out, you didn't make an obvious fool of yourself unless you had something to hide.

Finishing his drink Harvan approached the man. "Hello," Harvan extended his hand. "Harvan Diehl. Sounds like you are all in on this adventure. I'll be honest, I've travelled a lot but I haven't been part of an undertaking like this before. You seem like the... friendliest one here." Harlan's eyes darted over to the giant of a man and formerly blood covered wizard. "What do you make of this little collection of souls?"

The priest immediately stood up to serve himself half the food on the table upon prompting, further cementing he was unused to court etiquette. Alice reminded herself none of that really mattered here in this group now, even as he shoved as much food as he could slop on his plate with the decorum of a farm animal. She allowed a few more of the company to serve themselves while she busied herself removing objects from the new elven silk bag and placing them in her own satchel and pack. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the craftsmanship, she would definitely be keeping the bag, but because she already had a place for everything and couldn't be bothered to sort everything out. Upon completing her quick task she moved to sit over in front of the individual that interested her the most; the one that had introduced himself as Yaroslav.

As she seated herself she got a better look at this man. From a distance she could tell he was short, standing well below the average human, which could be attributed towards his almost frightening figure. He seemed to lack substance in all physical aspects, and his darkened eyes that never seemed to focus on anything explained his predicament. Likely another soul who fell under these dark times, who's been struggling to find an opportunity to find himself again. Alice was unsure of how much knowledge he really knew, let alone would be able to recall upon demand, people like him tended to have lost one or two marbles along the road. And quite a sum of coin and dignity probably she thought, concealing her small amount of pity before it reached her face or voice

Despite all this she had smirked at his jest, showing he was more astute than he looked. She recalled too well the sombre attitude of magical academies as appose to the lively and adventurous attitude of the elite she had studied with. He certainly looked like he didn't belong in one of those places though, his having been out in sunshine was evidence enough of that fact. She affixed a smile upon her face and introduced herself, "Hello, Yaroslav. I am Alice Peerbane as I'm sure you heard, Andred are you? How are the arts over there, I confess I have never been long in those parts." She did her best to suppress her Vrettonian accent. Though she would assume a man of learning would be above prejudice, it was always best to assume caution around the subject of the animosity surrounding the two states. "At the very least I can't remember the brooding school being officially recognised, though I know it was well practiced among many mages." She followed up with in a light tone and started serving herself small portions of this and that, being the first to the food was normally a masculine role in the courts but she doubted a man who looked as such as he did would bother to recognise it let alone be offended.

@POOHEAD189@Lacks

Just as Yaroslav had seated himself the Skayleigh said in a booming voice that we would not be teleported and would travel on foot, Yaroslav had no problem with this as he was very familiar with the dangers of a misused teleport spell. He was about to voice an agreement when he saw out of the corner of his eye the Skayleigh moving slowly toward him. Yaroslav began to consider whether an Andred battle mage dying at the hands of a Skayleigh in front of a menagerie of adventurers and Elven Royalty in a tavern in Riverhope would be interesting enough for bards to make quips about years down the line when the Skayleigh extended his hand in greeting.

"Don't worry. It's not a carnivorous plant that will snap close and crush the end of your arm once you touch its center. I've always spared this kind of action for mage apprentices on the battlefield." The Skayleigh said in a voice barely concealing displeasure then followed with "Where my family has been decimated..." with his voice a low rumbling growl.

Yaroslav knew the Skayleigh could easily crush his hand, he had seen hundreds of Andred’s men die at the hands of the Skayleigh, but he also knew that the Skayleigh were not monsters so he did not hesitate and sat his small hard in the center of the Skayleigh’s palm and locked eyes with the man as he said calmly. “Thank you for the greeting. I hope you fight with the same vigor as those I have faced in battle.”

Before the Skayleigh could reply the young mage woman across the table called out a greeting to him. "Hello, Yaroslav. I am Alice Peerbane as I'm sure you heard, Andred are you? How are the arts over there, I confess I have never been long in those parts." She had a Vrettonian accent, something Yaroslav had heard many times from both friend and foe. Yaroslav assumed that this obviously astute young woman had noticed Yaroslav’s predicament and jumped in and broken up the awkward situation. He turned his attention away for the Skayleigh and listened as Alice continued "At the very least I can't remember the brooding school being officially recognized, though I know it was well practiced among many mages."

At this Yaroslav gave a chuckle and replied. “Yes I am from Andred. The arts there are full of stuffy old angry men and woman unwilling to change or try anything new, but we get by.” He shrugs his shoulders. “As for the brooding school of magic I am considering trying to get it officially recognized and opening my own Guild as Guild Master. I would invite you to join but it will probably be a rather dreadful place.” He smiles widely as he unsuccessfully tries to deliver this joke dryly. “Do I hear a Vrettonian accent? It has been awhile since I have travelled that way, are the arts still as antiquated as always?" he says with an almost playful badgering tone then takes a bite from a small loaf of bread with a rather thick crust.

The careful onlooker would notice that there was a brief interruption in which An-Hasst appeared to stop moving completely and just stared at Yaroslav. So this mage had been on the battlefield himself ? How interesting... The Skayleigh looked askant at him, then slowly let his hand slide along the other man's. He retracted it without shaking that of Yaroslav. Would the mage notice this indication of him not being amused ? An-Hasst didn't think so because he already seemed engaged in talking with Alice.

The Skayleigh didn't care. It would have been a lie not to say that he had started fighting with the more unstable parts of his personality. In fact, it had not been that long ago that he had lost his job as a doorman for another tavern. In an outburst he had exploited his giant heritage to beat the shit out of a particularly annoying guest who had thrown a barrage of insults at him. He realized that it was of utmost importance to not let this happen again right here right now. The half-elf didn't feel the need to show much mercy with Yaroslav, but the task at hand sounded far too grave for letting his personal aversions infiltrate the coherence of their group too much.

"An-Hasst Ahal" he said while he was lifting himself back up again. It already was more directed towards the woman than towards Yaroslav. There appeared to be a bit of an accent in her speech, but right now he didn't care about. It didn't sound like Andred and that was sufficient. After all, he wasn't eager to disturb their dialogue.

The next destination of what possibly many of the people around here would consider a walking tower was the counter. One could hear his deep voice ordering one of the local beverages. When he returned, he was swaying a liquid looking like beer in a rather large tankard and sticking his nose into the evaporating smell. Judging by his facial expression, it didn't taste that good for him, but An-Hasst found his coins to be too valuable to become wasted. The skayleigh made a chug-a-lug out of it. Would a more ordinary elf have allowed himself to spill some drops of it onto his clothing ? He used his arm to collect all the items he had spread out onto the desk in one go and dropped them back into the elven silk bag before sitting down again.

Even with this overwhelming amount of muscle attached to his frame he just had to put his slimness at a serious challenge, because... He was unleashing an all-out offensive against the meal on the table as if there was no tomorrow to care about. Between the loads of food he forced into his mouth, he still managed to speak to Beren: "Sooo... I'm An-Hasst Ahal. What's your name ? I guess you're a great fighter, aren't you ?" He knew back in his head that there was still a request pending he had directed at Vanya, but that would be a short interruption and nothing more. At least so he hoped.

@Lacks@The Fated Fallen@POOHEAD189

Vanya flourished her hand, and a Goblet of wine floating up from the table and into her waiting palm. She raised an eyebrow at An-Hasst as he demanded to have a different mode of transportation and then proceeded to converse with others further. "I don't think you're understanding." she said, her tone showing she wasn't in the mood for his whims and wishes. She was just about to explain when the Warrior Monk Beren spoke up.

"She's teleporting us away because no one in the city is to see us leave." he said, before continuing. "But then again, who would suspect one person leaving being apart of some conspiracy if it was merely one person?" Vanya shot him a look, then continued as if speaking to a child. "There will always be questions on why a prized Elven steed was just given to a newcomer to use."
"He could use Brogach." Calanon said, giving a smile. All eyes turned to him. "My Elk. If I speak to him, he'll take our companion to the destination swiftly He could leave at night." Vanya seemed like she still needed more convincing.

Geradin nudged Beren in the ribs, and the tanned warrior blinked and turned to him curiously. They began to speak in the rough tongue of the Dwarves, Geradin pointing at Alice a bit while rudely chewing with his mouth open. Beren blinked as if to go 'really?' and continued to speak to him for a minute until they came to an end to their conversation by Geradin giving Beren a pat on the back. Vanya took a sip of her wine as she gazed at the companions conversing, now having taken a seat at the head of the table. The beautiful woman seeming positively bored, but still awaiting a reply from An-Hasst.

Calanon examined the silver necklace, seeing the pendant as a full moon wrought of silver, even with small bumps and ridges as if he was running his fingers over the lunar surface. He placed it over his head and donned it. "If I am not mistaken, these bags could also be used as protective cloaks, yes?" he asked Vanya. "That is correct. Unwind them, and they can be worn as cloaks that might impeded arrow fire somewhat, or blades perhaps if used right."
@Fetzen@Lacks@The Fated Fallen@The ZAX@BCTheEntity@Luminosity

An-Hasst tensed his fisted left hand so much that his knuckles started to crackle. It was a gesture that could not be seen since he did it below the desk. It was only a noise with unidentified origin that could be drowned out by the people eating in the tavern. This... woman! It was perfectly okay that Vanya was wondering why he requested such strange things - he would not tell why until he really had to. But this patronizing tone internally made him really aggressive, putting further demands on his ability to self-control.

It came from a very unexpected place that he got bailed out of his situation. So far, the skayleigh had not paid much attention to the elvish looking male. Now however he directed his gratitude towards him: "I have to thank you for your offer and I appreciate it." Then he turned his face back to Vanya, who appeared to be rather inpatiently waiting for a response. "Since I'll be much slower than with teleportation, I suggest that I leave as soon as possible. That would be this night."

Thanks to the necklace, this would not be much of a problem for him, at least not in terms of visibility. The skayleigh knew that by his decision, he was subjecting himself to dangers the other ones would not have to be afraid of. On the other hand, he would save himself from the danger of rematerializing with brown goo seeping through his clothing... And if this discrepancy between how the queen's sister was behaving and what she and her sister were asking them to do did have something to do with a malicious plan, he would save himself from that, too. Who could tell what kind of destination they would really select for this spell ?

@POOHEAD189

Alice noted the strange half-giant fellow give up the conversation and move off. She'd had a long day, and honestly hadn't really seen him there, Well done, already annoying members of the cohort. She nibbled away at her plate of food. She had an appetite for half the table after the days of travel rations, but restrained herself while in conversation.

Yaroslav continued the playful vibe “As for the brooding school of magic I am considering trying to get it officially recognised and opening my own Guild as Guild Master. I would invite you to join but it will probably be a rather dreadful place.” She somehow doubted the logistics of it, he just didn't seem the fastidious kind, let alone have the diplomatic clout to achieve his lofty aspiration to become master of brooding. The thought of a 'Master Brooder' alone curled the corners of her lips, and she listened intently to his next question. “Do I hear a Vrettonian accent? It has been awhile since I have travelled that way, are the arts still as antiquated as always?"

"Your question alone shows you haven't been near Vrettonia for a very long time." She stated truthfully. She was not overly surprised that he had detected her heritage, but she was quite happy he had hardly acted on it. She thought back to her home in a small reverie. "Just after I was born those of magical talent in my homeland bound together and swapped their pointy hats and stale libraries for ball gowns and castles. It is a rarity to find a noble in the central courts who does not have arcane talent ever since the coup." She had been hardly a toddler when it happened, barely grasping at the idea of magic and instead choosing to focus on her studies of falling over into the mud and annoying her big brother or sister

"Perhaps their new snooty ways is why you haven't heard of the change? Vrettonians and Andred hardly communicate well at the best of times, and I can hardly imagine a conversation between mages of the two countries now. One would be remarking on Von Feralis' planar theory while the other would spend the entire time scrutinising the interior decor."

She didn't add that Vrettonian mages hardly suffered for their new position. If anything the whole Magocracy thing had improved the arcane arts there, thanks to the funding increase, easy access and construction of great centres of knowledge and artefacts. Even just the gathering of talented individuals in an area free of scrutiny had helped a great deal. She considered, without bias, that Vrettonia certainly held the magical power in the world. Even with such people as Princess Vanya over there and no doubt the Queen among others

@Lacks@POOHEAD189

As he ate, Settionne glanced round the room, taking a glance at everyone's interpersonal relationships as first impressions. He was sure at least one of the party by now suspected he was perhaps not who he said he was, though most seemed preoccupied in other ways; in particular, the oversized being that could only be one of those Skayleigh creatures from the Isles... what were those called? Oh, he'd just keep referring to them as the Isles. Anyway, said Skayleigh was apparently engrossed with threatening another man for... did he say he was a mage earlier? Well, wasn't that something. And another young woman- a Vrettonian herself, going by her accent- had gotten herself involved in that conversation too, so they were clearly occupied.

For the time being, though, he'd found himself distracted by yet another individual, this one clearly a guardsman of some sort, and rather lacking in anything of significant worth. Was this perhaps a local guard? Surely not, as he in turn seemed to possess an accent unlike that of any human living in the area that he'd heard. Not Vrettonian, anyway. 'Hello,' the man stated, extending his hand to shake, which Sett did with gusto as he continued to talk. 'Harvan Diehl. Sounds like you are all in on this adventure. I'll be honest, I've travelled a lot but I haven't been part of an undertaking like this before. You seem like the... friendliest one here.'

'Ahahaaa, well, you're not wrong, my man!' the priest responded, a cheeky grin on his face as he clapped his hands together, and in turn idly wondered whether it was really that obvious he was a priest as the man glanced over toward the giant and the... previously blood-soaked man. When asked 'What do you make of this little collection of souls?', Sett's smile faded ever so slightly, and he responded with 'I'll tell you this for starters, I've travelled plenty in my time-' Accurate, if the one boat journey South counted as "plenty", but he could fluff it up with extra details if needed. '-and I know a couple of antagonistic souls when I see them. If you're concerned about who's a problem and who isn't, well, just stick by me and I'll be sure to keep you in good health, O humble warrior.' He laid a hand on the man's shoulder, friendly warmth entering the smile on his face, and seriously considered rifling through the man's pocket with his free hand to see if there was anything of any reasonable worth to him. But, with the Elven Princess' keen gaze (amongst others) crossing the room at various points in time, he ultimately decided against it. That was a recipe for disaster.

Speaking of disastrous Princesses, the queen was speaking again, this time discussing the merits of unwinding the elven silk bags to, supposedly, impede arrow fire or even deflect blades. Surely not! Such a miraculous material, light as silk yet strong as steel, would require- oh, wait, Elves. No, magically-enchanted silk made sense, on second thought. In which case, forget nabbing any extra pots; just take everyone's newly-gifted silk bags at the earliest opportunity, and figure out how to weave them into an outfit of near-impenetrable silken armour. He knew how effective armour plate was; knights were common enough in many armies for a reason, after all. Just remove the weak spots that flexibility required, and... well, what could stop a man so protected? Dragons and demons, maybe... and mages of great power... ahem... well, he'd cross those bridges when he came to them, once he'd gotten himself set up accordingly.

@POOHEAD189@The ZAX@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@Lacks

Harvan smiled as Sett laid a hand on his shoulder. Now this seemed like someone he could count on. Yes the man was a bit more verbose than Harvan normally associated with, but Settionne seemed like a warm individual. Harvan was well travelled but he knew he still had a lot to learn. His Grandmother always said that you are born possessing two sacks, an empty one labeled experience and a full one labeled luck. The goal in life is to fill the empty sack before your luck ran out. Harlan hoped that meeting Settionne was the last bit of luck he would need for a while.

As Harvan refilled his plate he glanced over at the other three. The mage, the giant and the noble woman, possibly a mage as well if he had to guess. They were all smiling but they all hid something more. Harvan was unnerved by this group, he had no idea what dark dealings they had experienced in the past, but he was sure there were plenty. Harvan’s ears pricked up for a second. It sounded like the giant would be riding out that night. Harvan could hardly believe it, why would anyone want to take the long way when they could simply teleport where they were going! Of course this large man seemed rather… volatile. Harvan was somewhat glad they wouldn’t be traveling with him to start. He was sure the man would be a great asset in a fight, but Harvan was worried about them surviving to make it to the battle first. Things might lighten up considerably though. For now Harvan would stick with Settionne.

Returning to Settionne, Harvan pulled out the bag of gifts he received. He began asking the man questions in between bites. “Do you … think that these gifts can really do what they claim? I’ve heard stories … of the magic of the elves but haven’t actually experienced their … craftsmanship before.” Harvan took a drink and absently tried to cut a corner of his bag with a serrated knife. “I heard the princess mention that these could be worn as cloaks, I’d love to be able to fit one of these under my armor! And what about those jugs? I’ve heard that elves never eat but maybe they just drink this all of the time…” Harvan trailed off realizing he was prattling on. Maybe he wasn’t a fit for this undertaking after all, no one else here seemed as enthralled by all of this as he was.

@BCTheEntity@POOHEAD189@The Fated Fallen@Lacks@Fetzen

Yaroslav listened to the Vrettonian mage explain how the practices of the Vrettonian mage’s had changed and he realized that it had truly been a long time since he had set foot on Vrettonian ground and the only time he had it had been as part of a raiding party. He winced at the memory; that had been a bloody two months. He managed to refocus on the conversation by the time that Alice made her joke about Von Feralis' planar theory and gave a chuckle.

“It is true I know little of Vrettonian magic these days, we’ll have to talk shop some while we travel. We could probably learn much from each other” Yaroslav smiled at Alice and was about to make another joke when he saw the young warrior sit down next to the man called Settionne.

In the company of less experienced people Settionne’s grandeur and demeanor would have been written off as being charming almost bard like but this room was full of seasoned adventures and warriors. Yaroslav noticed the skill in the way he moved his eyes and the way he artfully drew attention away from one had with the other, the man had to be some kind of rogue or thief and Yaroslav thought he could tell that other members of the party had caught on too, every time Settionne spoke the Paladin would seem to wince and the wood elf might be narrowing his eyes. Thieves had their uses and Yaroslav would not have judged Settionne had he come right out and admitted his talents but as of yet he had not.

Yaroslav figured he should probably speak up and see if this man would admit his profession, if not for the sake of the party then for the sake of the young warrior who was probably too green to see through the thief’s charm. Yaroslav turned to Settionne and said in a friendly and inquisitive tone. “So Settionne was it? I am very glad we have a thief in our party, you lot are always so useful, what manner of thievery is your specialty? We all really should know each other’s strengths before we face our foes don’t you think?”

Yaroslav seemed a polite individual, if a little unsettled and distracted at times. Alice found him to be a worthwhile companion, at least in the short term. He professed he knew little of Vrettonian circles before his eyes shifted over to that strange fellow. The conversation ended between the two wizards and he moved off to his next point of curiosity. She took this as a sign from the gods that she should stuff her face while no-one was really looking.

Alice re-asserted to herself that the gaudy fellow Yaroslav found himself in the company of could not possibly be a part of the Vrettonian gentry with clothing and character like that. He lacked any sort of bearing or looks that might have possibly been from any noble line she knew of. She had her original theory that he might be of priesthood, as they were the only other group in Vrettonia who might be able to afford the colourful dyed cloths he wore, but honestly why would a priest be invited to this sort of dangerous adventure? Yaroslav said something to the him that definitely drew his attention, but she cared not to listen in. It was unbecoming to try and get secrets over comrades.

She took her space back over near Geradin and chatted back and forth pleasantly while he stuffed his face that way Dwarfs do (heartily, to say the least.) She had noticed he hadn't really taken much participation in meeting the group and didn't mention it. When not with friends Geradin was the strong silent type. Luckily for him he had many friends, especially among Dwarves, otherwise he would be wholly unsociable. She had noticed his grumbling about this Elven city had slowed to a crawl in between bites, and he certainly hadn't complained about the Elven food. Alice admitted she couldn't remember back to a time when she had eaten a better meal. Remorse twinged in her when she realised she probably wouldn't eat this well again for many years, and with that notion subtly stuffed various containers and jars from her pack full of goodies she could devour at the start of the journey.

She tried to get a general atmosphere of the group, trained as she was at gauging the mood of a room. From what she could tell, there was little suspicion. This was good and the best anyone here could hope for. She also felt the group didn't seem to understand this threat as strongly as they should. Maybe it would all turn out fine, but it felt odd to her they weren't already pulling maps out, dedicating roles and recruiting more help. With a little sigh Alice resigned herself to the situation and if she was more godly may have offered a small prayer for all of them. She would have to hope preparations had been made enough

@POOHEAD189

'Ah, well now,' the priest chortled, continuing to eye up the seemingly-unaware guardsman, 'the elves have many mysterious magicks to hand! Perhaps they are godblessed, if they can create cities this beautiful. And I certainly wouldn't doubt that they could make these bags-' he lifted his own as an example. '-all but impervious to harm! As for the Guarden juice, well, I'm sure those fruits are considered quite valuable in their culture, but then why wouldn't they be, when-'

'So Settionne was it? I am very glad we have a thief in our party-'

Settionne's reaction to being called out was to blink, an indication of surprise that few would recognise for what it was, and then turn to the questioner with a steadily-intensifying look halfway between shock and offense as the man continued to talk: '-what manner of thievery is your specialty? We all really should know each other’s strengths before we face our foes don’t you think?' Many other men would be at an impasse at this stage; fortunately, Sett the Inconsiderate had an alibi... or half of one, which he could build up to...

'Sssir!' Settionne exclaimed in a relatively soft yet notably outraged voice, sure to draw just enough attention to be interesting. 'How could you accuse me of such low standards? I'll have you know, since you've asked,' he continued, raising a finger as if to further make a point, 'that I am a priest of the gods!' A specific god, but he didn't need to know that. 'They command me, and I obey their will. That is all there is to it! Honestly, you'd think the world's faith was vanishing with how few people recognise a holy man when they see one... and you haven't even taken the time to introduce yourself to me, either. Goodness gracious.' If all went well, this individual would now be marked out in people's heads as somebody to watch out for, which in turn would draw attention away from Sett's proper calling. He hadn't planned on doing so to begin with, but perhaps he might bless the others in the group as well, to prove a point.

@POOHEAD189@The ZAX@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@Lacks

As the day dragged on into evening, it seemed that everyone was staying on each others good sides with (relative) ease. Beren and Geradin had spoken at length in Dwarvish, before Alice sat down and joined them at her chair. Even Vanya had a small conversation with Calanon. The Elvish tongue was relatively the same between Silver Elf and Wood Elf, but Vanya was used to the Wood Elven speak. None knew what they said however. Harvan's attempts at cutting the Elven silk were lackluster. It seemed the fabric was as sturdy as the Elven Princess had claimed.

After everyone had eaten their fill and had full stomachs of wine and water, Vanya gracefully stood out of her chair, and placed her palms together. Her bejeweled cuffs upon her wrists clacked lightly. "Very well, if everyone is ready to depart then I shall prepare the summoning spell." Calanon the Ranger stood up, and led An-Hassat outside and to Borgach the Red Elk. The beast was grazing upon some grass, lifting its head as its friend approached.

"Brogach," Calanon said to his mount, reaching out and smoothing his mane, just past his great antlers. "This is a friend. You're to take him to the Falenthoren Glade, do you understand?" He spoke to the Elk as if the beast could perfectly decipher his words, and it seemed Brogach could. The Elk bowed its head and allowed An-Hassat to mount his back. Once he did so, he would take him to the destination with great haste. The journey there would be passed the mile long bridge over the beautiful river shining with the reflection of the moon, and into the great forest past gulleys, huge trees, and thick brush.

Inside, Vanya closed her eyes. Her bosom swelled lightly under her robes as she breathed in. Suddenly her eyes opened, and the faint glow they often gave off was now immense and blinding. Her hands spun and flourished, multicolored lights of magic swirling and twirling around the inside of the common room as she spoke in an ancient and forgotten tongue. Suddenly there was a great flash, and just before they were transported they could see arcane symbols of light in the air.


In a few moments the Companions, save An-Hassat, were now standing inside a very serene and ethereal glade filled with fireflies. The grass beneath them was as soft as a feathered pillow, and apparently devoid of insects. A few ribbits of a frog could be heard from somewhere distant. Vanya stood before them, clutching her staff. The glow of her eyes diminishing before them. "Welcome to the Falenthoren Glade. It is here where we will reside for night to rest and sleep. I will leave you once my strength recovers, for I shall be missed in Riverhope. My half sister will greet you tomorrow a few miles to the east of here."

Beren looked around, unused to such magic. He glanced at Geradin, and the two shared a look. "Ye ever seen something like that afore?" the Dwarf asked Alice. Beren let out a breath, and plopped down on his rump near the center of the glade. Everyone's packs and equipment were here as well. "How far away is this?" he asked Vanya. "5 miles to the east of the river. Quite a long way via magic."
@The ZAX@BCTheEntity@The Fated Fallen@Lacks@Fetzen

Harvan just about spat out his drink when Yaroslav accused Settionne of being a thief. The young man had seen fights break out for less and he braced internally for whatever was about to happen. Instead of answering with a fist though, Settionne simply became indignant and said "I am a priest of the Gods!"
Of course! Sett was a man of the cloth. It all made sense now, the language he used, his calming personality. All things that one would learn in seminary. Harvan wanted to ask him what god he followed but the young man was far too embarrassed by the exchange he just witnessed to do so. Being a priest Sett would hardly react to an accusation such as that with violence, but it didn't mean Harvan couldn't. He would make a point of asking Settionne about that later. Yaroslav was an intimidating person, but in Harvan's experience if you bonked a mage upside the head hard enough they can't focus well enough to shoot a spell at you.
In the meantime Harvan decided to mingle. He didn't say much but he did listen to a lot of conversations. It seemed like everyone had good experience and by the end of the evening Harvan was looking forward to the adventure. This all was hammered home when Vanya cast her spell. One second they were standing in the inn, the next they were in a small clearing in the woods. Harvan was amazed by this. He had never seen magic of this nature. Harvan had no idea how far they had gone, but he knew it was a long ways and it simply boggled his mind. He could barely wrap his head around it! Hopefully the other casters in the party were this powerful as well. If so they had nothing to worry about.
After Vanya had addressed the group Harvan went about setting up his equipment as only someone raised in barracks could. He had his sleeping roll prepared faster than most people had theirs out. A few people beat him to it but he suspected magic... or greater training but at this point he didn't know what the extent of everyone's powers were.

'How could you accuse me of such low standards? I'll have you know, since you've asked, that I am a priest of the gods!'

It wasn't until this point that the Skayleigh transferred any of his attention to the ongoing dialogue at the opposite end of the table. It had not been the volume Settionne had been using, but the slight outrage his half-even ears had been able to pick up. Now he tried to piece together what had been said before that by memory. Most parts were missing, of course, since he had been busy with addressing Calanon. One word however had managed to stick since it had been repeated in one or another fashion: thief.

Yaroslav and Settionne became the target of a prolonged, penetrating glance originating from An-Hasst this evening. The half-giant opted against walking over to them though. He had already bumped into the battle mage in the figurative sense and didn't feel the need to do so a second time. Priest, thief... did this really matter ? Both 'professions' could be advantageous, given the proper situation. And if Yaroslav would be busy with keeping an eye on a thief, he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on a certain Skayleigh...

______________________________________________________________

The half-elf was surprisingly sluggish when it came to mount Calanon's elk. It could have something to do with the fact that he had filled up his stomach up to the point where he had become noticeably thicker around his waist. Nothing out of the ordinary for him. It just made him a bit tired, but now he had Brogach taking care of his weight. The crossbow was resting on his back in a drawn and locked state, ready to fire the first bolt without having to prepare - one of the advantages of using such a weapon. The two blades were in their sheaths strapped onto his huge thighs so it wouldn't be a very time-consuming task to put them into action either. Who knew... He was also wearing the magic necklace, but the only things that it allowed him to see were more or less impressive areas of the southern landscape that was largely unknown to him. Hopefully this would hold true for the remainder of the trip as well...

@The ZAX@BCTheEntity@The Fated Fallen@Lacks@POOHEAD189

Vanya commanded the group surround her after all was said and done at the feast. All the assembled promptly gathered around as she explained she was going to teleport them to her half-sister. Alice caught snippets of the old tongue as the spell was performed, understanding or at least recognising around one word in five, their significance in the equation lost to her. She didn't much care to listen though, it was way above the novice mage's head and would likely be for many years if not forever.

With a flash the party found themselves in a clearing that could only be from a perfect dream or a god's garden. The place hummed with fireflies, and yet was free from the buzzing and biting insects that normally inhabit such places at night. A comforting glow revealed the area and yet was not too bright as to disrupt sleep. Alice noticed her thoughts growing ever more slumbersome as she considered the lush grass that could only be described as bizarrely fluffy. Such a beautiful and serene place must have been nurtured by magic, though such a thing would take many years and only be the fascination of the least driven and most talented member of the Vrettonian high circles.

Vanya spoke to no-one in particular "Welcome to the Falenthoren Glade. It is here where we will reside for night to rest and sleep. I will leave you once my strength recovers, for I shall be missed in Riverhope. My half sister will greet you tomorrow a few miles to the east of here." Geradin posed a question, "Ye ever seen something like that afore?" he said in half shock to Alice. Never, I'm unsure there are any in the civilised world as talented at magic as Princess Vanya here. A sure sign she needed sleep that she knew was that she would make the same observations again and again without having moved on. "How far away is this?" he went on to ask Vanya. "5 miles to the east of the river. Quite a long way via magic." she replied quickly, and Alice detected a slight measure of pride. Alice couldn't hold the small boast against her, it was a feat of near legend.

Alice gestured to Geradin when the Princess was gone. "Come on, lets get some tents up." The dwarf slowly turned in a half circle, saying "Why bother, lass? If ye aren't comfortable on the ground and under the stars then you shouldn't have been born a creature of the land." he yawned and stretched out on the floor. "Be that as it may -" she was cut off by loud snoring. If it wasn't Geradin in question she would have thought he was faking it to annoy her, but she knew he would be oblivious to anything until morning.

Putting up her tent allowed her to put thought about her own progress on teleportation. The idea of it was fairly straightforward, but the execution was always hard to do. Even master wizards would often find themselves inside furniture or walls, or missing objects, items of clothing or even worse; limbs. Such a thing required plenty of practice across a large flat and controlled area, and even then the greatest distance she had heard was only about 500 metres, paltry in comparison. Alice had never really had the time to do any practice of it. Even teleporting objects was a matter best left for emergencies and with nothing too precious. There was a reason merchants never relied on anything of the sort despite how useful it would be to get stock from warehouse to stand or shop without having to make a trip. She wondered how advanced Yaroslav was when it came to this, but her idle curiosity could wait until more sociable hours

Finally done, she looked around to see she was in fact one of the slowest to have made camp, though was relieved she wasn't the only person doing so. At least some of the company seem civilised. Normally she would do some quick reading or studying before she went to sleep, but she knew she'd need her rest for the coming day. She was out like a light, almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.