[IC] Ancient's Game

[Ancient History]

Along the road leading to Silverymoon's south gate stands a small shrine to Lathander.
Beneath the dripping overhang of a shrine of Lathander, your group is gathered together. Each person is addressed by name by the aging character, a bent old man some four score years of age, and then ushered into the shrine itself. From there, the aged devotee of Lathander leads you down a stone stairwell to an earthen cellar, and from there he points to a a stout wooden door. Staring at your group with rheumy eyes, he speaks:

"I thank you all for coming here...both my fellow followers of the Morning Lord, and you others who have agreed to join this enterprise for other gains. Recently, the Church has acquired the services of a most learned and potent sage; who for some unknown sin has submitted his knowledge and power to the cause of the Morning Lord for a time as atonement. You have been commissioned to carry out missions he sets for you, for the greater glory of Lathander and the greater good of the world."

Exhausted by his long speech, the old man rubs his hands together again, and speaks further in a hoarse whisper.

"Be aware, this sage is most potent and powerful, yet hesitant to use the full force of his magicks for fear of nameless enemies. Likewise, he cannot leave his manor in Silverymoon...for reasons he has not disclosed. Enter now through yonder portal, andmay the grace of the Morning Lord go with you on your journeys."

With that, the dark wooden door swings open, revealing a large living room. A massive overstuffed chair, occupied by a darkly robed and cowled figure. He prods the fire absently with a poker. After a minute, he raises his other hand and gestures to a series of high-backed chairs set in the shadows.

"Enter, and sit. Introduce yourselves, while I tend the flame."

A sliver of glass behind a heavy curtain shows the tell-tale moon-bridge of Silverymoon...

[Luadril Sunsoar]

She listened intently to the elderly man's speech after her morning devotions at the shrine, warm golden eyes bright with curiosity. With a cloudless sky the sun burned brightly overhead magnifying the natural radiance of her brilliant wings. Wings whose feathers seemed fashioned from sunbeams given substance and chased with brilliant gold. With her shimmering silvery hair pulled back in a loose braid and soft supple leather armor the color of fresh churned butter it was easy for the eye to glance over the fact her skin was the almost obsidian sheen of drow but it was clear that she was decidedly very different from her dark-hearted kin.

It was until she turned to her companion who was almost a foot taller that it became obvious just how tiny she was, even for one of drow descent. Compared to her surface cousins and humans...she was positively child-sized. Patting the hand of the other winged drow female whose plummage wasn't quite as colorful she smiled gently as she spoke with a voice as sweet and rich as honey and the sun seemed to shine even brighter.

"Come Sister, let us see what this mage has in store for us."

Speaking softly with gentle coaxing words and touches to hand, shoulder and wing, the paladin persuaded her friend to go below the ground with seemingly boundless patience. To those watching it was much like a kind groom handling a frightened horse and it was surprising sight for those not used to her to see a paladin to act in such a manner.

[Koriel Zauth]

Koriel balked at the narrow stairway down, her dull gray-silver wings twitching in response to the thought of entering such a space and her violet eyes widening despite Luadril reassuring grip. Lathander had coaxed her out of the forest and the sky, but he had never said anything about the small places that the landbound lived.

A glimpse beyond the tiny doorway showed a much bigger room than the hallway, and as usual Luadril had gotten her far enough in that forward was a much easier option that backward. A small shift in Koriel's deep saffron and white robes was all the warning Luadril got to let go as the dusky skinned cleric darted forward into the slightly more open room.

"My apologies, I don't mean to startle. Being indoors is...difficult." Her voice was soft and musical as she apologized and looked to the outside, wings twitching halfway open, obviously wanting to be out in it instead of looking at it.

[Luadril Sunsoar]

With an unconscious grace, Luadril entered the room and bowed to the figure automatically being careful not to hit anyone with her wings.

"Greetings, m'lord. I am Luadril SunSoar, knight of Lathander's Order of the Aster. This is my Sister in Faith, Koriel Zauth. You are , we were lead to believe, one who might aid us in bringing honor to our Lord?"

Though she smiled warmly, her fanciful plummage capturing and reflecting the light from the fire, her golden eyes were serious and missed not a thing as she leaned against the wall, declining the chance of getting her wings tangled in a chair.

[OOC: Luadril is scanning for evil and trying to gauge people's motives.]

[Ancient History]

The cowled figure turned at the paladin and smiled. The firelight and shadows gave a slightly diabolic cast to his features.

"Be welcome, winged ladies of Lathander. In truth, you are here to aid me in my atonement; acting as my agents. Whatever honor or treasure it earns may be fairly divided by you and your patron, I want none of it. Be at your ease."

He turns and gave an expectant glance at the others.

[Torin Proud]

Silverymoon.

It had taken him so long, cost so much-but he was finally here. Standing at the gates as the sun slowly set behind the Surbran Mountains to the East Torin wondered briefly what adventures the city held. What mysteries lay ahead. He never considered for a second that misery may have intruded into his life. He made the most of what he had. That was his way.

Torin didn't need to check his map to realize he was standing at the Moorgate. Torin had checked his maps hundreds of times over the last few months. He'd learned the hard way that he needed to prepare-each moment of his life that could be scripted was. He'd paid the price for that lesson in blood.

Torin watched as the guards at the gate attentively scanned the crowd, nodding to those they recognized, occassionally stopping those they didn't. Their silvery armor was light, as it was a pleasant evening, and niether men seemed overbearingly armed. But little signs were there-signs that they were more than just passingly familiar with their well oiled short swords, the hilts darkened with sweat, and slightly worn. Their eyes were alert, but not malignent. Torin was very impressed. Obviously someone here took the watch seriously.

He also took note of the wooden booth with the woman who was obviously some sort of officer. Her uniform was far more ornate than theirs-and he couldn't detect any sign of visible armor...a wizard perhaps? As he stood motionless, the shadows of the night helping to conceal him, he saw that the woman occassionally held a fiery red jewel aloft, speaking a word or two. The gem would then glow brilliantly, but briefly. With a nod she'd set the gem back into one of the folds of her robes. Few cities could afford this sort of magical secuirty.

Obviously Silverymoon was the type of city he'd thrive in. One that eliminated the competition by simple attrition. Anyone stupid enough to attract this sort of attention wouldn't be long between stockade and noose. Torin smiled and strode forward.

Throwing his hood back he nodded to both the men standing watch with a smile. If they were surprised to see a halfling this far north, something Torin had come to understand was progressively rarer the further North you traveled for some odd reason, niether man showed it. Pausing like he'd seen so many do before he allowed the Sorceress to work her magic-although he knew he felt nothing, no physical affect, for a second he felt the hairs on his neck stand up.

Smiling the woman nodded in way of greeting, as well as being a silent signal to the guards. Apparently whatever they had been looking for he didn't have. And that was fine by him.

As he entered the city he was surprised by both the greenery, and the general cleaniness. Unlike Waterdeep, Silverymoon had a welcoming feel to it. Like you had just stepped into someones backyard. As he wandered westward he was happy to see so many trees inside the city, as well as flowers and gardens of all types. Torin appreciated beauty in all its forms. Architecture was a sorely under appreciated art.

The sun was sinking low into the sky, a few clouds catching its rays, staining them scarlets and violet shades, but still the streets were crowded, and merchants hawked their goods. That was a good sign. He'd seen far too many towns, and villages that simply locked their doors as soon as the sun set. The dangers of Orc's and strangers far too great to outweigh any potential profit. He'd been forced to sleep in a number of hay lofts because of this-unbeknowst to their owners of course.

Scanning the signs he saw stores of all sorts, and was pleasantly surprised at their number and variety. He'd do a thriving business here. Thriving indeed.

After a while he turned south, after spotting what looked like a promising Inn-The Golden Oak. Certainly he'd find rooms fitting his specialized needs here?

For several minutes he simply stood in the streets, watching. Although anyone watching him would have thought he was simply shopping for bargains. He purchased a spiced piece of jerky and some cheese from one vendor, a bell from another, some string from another. As he shopped he made note of the sort of traffic the Golden Acorn saw, and finally nodding to himself decided it'd do nicely.

Shoving his purchases into his belt pouch, and shouldering his pack higher onto his shoulders he pushed the door to the Acorn open.

[Torin Proud]

The Inn was small compared to some of the largest he'd seen in the heart of Waterdeep, but Torin would have been hard pressed to find any that were this unique. Built into the side of a massive Oak tree, it had a rich earthy smell that likely originated from the plants that were meticulously decorating the Inn's common room. Ferns, a miniature apple tree, and so many more.

The furniture of the common room seemed to be molded from the very heart of the giant Oak, as if they were lving extensions of the tree itself!Brass urns, and candles in blown galss jars decorated the walls. Each was different from the last, all were brightly colored, and some were even painted or etched with writing in so many languages that Torin didn't understand. A few people of assorted races and sexes mixed quietly in this cozy space.

For a second he was breathless. Truely this was a special place. A good omen for his first day in a new city.

It hardly suprised Torin to see that the Inn keeper was an Elf. As Torin approached the desk the slender elf smiled openly.

"Welcome to the Golden Oak good sir, how may I help this fine evenng?" The Elf's voice was liquid smooth, like so many of their race, his words seemed to roll off his tongue like sweet honey.

"I require a room, to rest my weary head this evening and perhaps something warm to fill my admittedly undersized belly!" He said the words calmly, forcing a smile to his face. He made sure to look the Elf in the eyes. People who avoided eye contact were often seen as hiding something-a fine balance to be sure, as too much was seen as a challenge by some races. "Your fine establishment was reccomended by one of the soldiers at the Moorgate, fine Innkeeper."

Smiling the elf nodded. "Likely Tomias. He is often too loose with his praise, I'm afraid my wife's cooking has adled his brains. However a room and some food we can do with pleasure my fine sir!"

"Is it possible I could get a room that overlooks the street good sir? I'm new to this fine city, and I'd like to take my meal, and then look upon your beautiful city."

Nodding the elf spoke warmly. "Please call me Shadmeer. I can most certainly accomadate fine sir, but please understand that those rooms are a bit more expensive than my regular rooms."

Torin almost grinned. Of course they were. Reaching into his pouch he drew out a Platinum piece, embossed with a dragon one side, and asword on the other. "I understand Shadmeer, I should hope this will allow me to reserve a room for sometime, as well as some of that fine cooking you mentioned!" Always seem more enthusiastic about food, and less concerned about money. People didn't trust greedy or stingey people.

Laughing the Innkeep nodded. "Indeed my lord, we'll see that you're shown to a room over looking the streets, and a hot meal immediately...."

[Torin Proud]

Several bowls of hot soup, a plate laddened with spiced pork chops and sweet yams later Torin sat in a chair on the balcony attached to his room. A mug of hot spiced cider and a fresh loaf of bread sat on the small table next to him. A jar of honey and a small knife to spread it with completed his modest desert.

He briefly wondered how any more than a single human could have found this balcony comfortable? It was just barely big enough for his undersized chair, and table, let alone something their size. The bed however was a different story. He could have slept most of his extended family in there. At least it was someone elses job to make it. Making a bed that size wasn't something someone his size enjoyed.

The streets were far less crowded now, as the night wore on. Although a little chilly it was still fairly plesant. The Innkeep had invited Torin to attend the common room after he had finished his meal, and bath. Especially after he had taken note of Torin's fiddle.

He had bathed first, washing the dust from the road, and grime away. Then he had feasted on the fine fare that the truly talented wife of the Innkeep had provided. Unpacking his pack slightly he had changed into a better set of clothing-he didn't truely have a set of finery, just some clothes he wore less often. He hoped to remedy that soon.

Sipping on the cider he watched the traffic on the street. Occassionally he sliced a hunk of the bread-which to his surprise was cinnamon with raisins in it-and lathered it honey. So few people looked up as they went about their travels. It surprised him to note that so many people seemed so unconcerned about even a privy pot being emptied on their heads. Obviously this city was far safer and cleaner than Waterdeep, but he knew from his travels that Orc's were a constant plague here. Maybe this city really was filled with Mages and their lackies?

Chuckling he decided it was time to relax. Seetting the remains of his food outside his door, he grabbed his fiddle and started to make his way down to the common room. He'd barely made it three steps when a small human boy came barreling up the stairs and nearly into him.

Huffing the boy stammered an apology. "Sorry sir-uhm I mena my lord."

"I'm no Lord boy, but do be mindful of where and whom you trample. Now off with ye' lad."

"But...I have to deliver this message to you sir. the Innkeep, Shadmeer, said you'd be on yer way down, he did. Described you perfectly he did." The boy jammed a scroll bound with a small wax seal on it in Torins direction, but Torin had already stepped backwards nearly an arms length. A humans arm length.

"Easy boy. WHo are you, and how do you know who I am? Who described me and why?"

"The Priest sir, from the shrine."

"Shrine?"

"Lathander sir."

Torin simply took the scroll with a shake of his head. Damn clerics. If he asked the boy anything else, he knew the boy wouldn't know. Damn priests listening to their gods, taking it upon themselves to spread the messages their particular diety delivered to them. He didn't try to understand them-they were hopeless. It wasn't that he dind't believe in the gods.

He just didn't believe in Clerics.

[Razbar ibn Mujallah]

Razbar had always been a wanderer, but his appearance and manner of dress still gave away his origin. It was probably most impractical to wear a full, thick, dark set of robes and a turban, all with red fringes. Nevertheless, the Calimshan mage wore them. He sported a pouch for spellcomponents and had a sickle at his hip. He listened to the paladin introduce herself and a drow.

He bowed politely, himself. "My name is Razbar ibn Mujallah of Calimshan. The arcane flame is my ally and gift. I remain a mere child of Mystra, but wish to see the world that I may truly come to know her." After he finished speaking, he stood upright again from the bow.

As he had brought attention unto himself, those around could notice that the clothes make him look far larger than he actually is. His wrists were thin, his form slight. Not much over 5 feet tall. Bright blue eyes contrasted against his bronze skin and dark brown hair. And most notable of all was his boyish face. He didn't look a day older than 14.

[Jarthal]

Jarthal ducked reflexively as he went through the doorway, still operating on habits learned in his father’s small, spare cabin. While not exceptionally tall for a human, his father had decided that a home too large was a waste of space, and thus Jarthal had learned to live in what an outside observer might consider to be cramped living conditions. And so, he ducked, despite the fact that there was a good ten inches of clearance between head and door frame. As he did so, the tightly braided tail of light brown hair that dropped down to his tailbone writhed along his back like a snake.

Once inside the room, he stood off to the side, uncertainly eyeing the winged half-people Half Drow! who professed to follow Lathander. A decent enough deity, he supposed, though followers were often prone to wasteful excess for no particular reason. If these drow were to be trusted in their claimed devotion, they would need careful observation to ensure that such carelessness was kept to a minimum. In fact, the same would go for all involved in this “mission,” and indeed, the endeavor itself.

He scratched at a shoulder, his fingers digging into the rough leather of his armor. His armor was a mottled patchwork, including leather of varying colors and qualities. It, like just about everything he carried, had clearly seen better days. Armor, cloak, and boots had been patched and repaired so much that it was difficult to tell what the original material was. Even the sturdy laminated shortbow that peeked over his right shoulder was rough and inelegant. The horse tied outside was no different. Girded with a thick and barely serviceable saddle, it was a shaggy beast, its short thick hair closely resembling the full beard covering its owner’s face.

Casting a piercing green glance around the room, he peered at their host and said one simple word:

“Jarthal.”

[Torin Proud]

The scroll had been simple, but elegant. It had caught his attention most certainly. He knew from his maps where theshrine to Lathander was located. Not far from the two southern gates-the Blacklar gate and the Mulgate. Getting there meant crossing the Moon Bridge.

He now stood inside the shrine, the old man had spotted him on the road trying to scope the place out, and had insisted he follow him in. He'd only been there a short while when the man had left him for only a moment and returned with more people in tow.

The first two to arrive were women, not much taller than Torin in stature. Their faces and figures were beautiful beyond all belief. All Torin could do was stare, their beauty was beyond that of what he had ever seen. Then he saw the wings.

[Rasiel Qeliasin Silanith]

Silanith stepped lightly through the open frame, making barely a sound despite her travel-weary appearance. Her auburn hair fell long and unkempt over her face, obscuring her narrow eyes and elven features, her cheeks flattened by her mixed heritage. She flexed her wings as she moved to stand near the chairs, raven feathers ruffling as if to announce her arrival.

"My name is Rasiel Qeliasin Silanith, explorer," she announced as she pulled her wavy hair back from her face, tying it in a loose bun. "I apologise for my appearance, my journey here has been a long one. I trust our efforts will serve you well."

She continued to stand in full travel gear, as if to emphasize her height. At almost six feet, she was nearly a full head taller than any of the others in the room. The firelight shone off her gold-tinged cheeks. A clay jug rested on her right hip, her travel pack resting behind it. Her swordbelt hung loosely on the opposite hip suspending a long, slender scabbard. Her belt cinched tight over her leather tunic. A short coat of undyed wool fit over it, stained ruddy by dust and clay, finely crafted chain links peeking out from under its hem. Her tall leather boots disappeared beneath the hem of her knee-length skirts, colored as her jacket with the dirt of the road and nothing else. Her posture relaxed as she leaned back against the wall.

[Torin Proud]

For several long moments all he could do was simply stare at the winged elves? Was that what they were? He'd never seen anything like them in his entire life. His emotions ran the gamut-what sort of company was he in? Should he simply cower in fear-for obviously they knew what he was, and he was about to lose his head...Or maybe he was supposed to courtsey? Were they royalty of some sort?

Suddenly the third winged creature arrived and Torin knew what to say.

"I'm sorry, I've obviously been asked here by mistake. It's quite obvious I'm way out of my class here, I'll just leave the way I came." He started to back out the door, holding his hands neutrally above his waist to show he was unarmed. He hoped they wouldn't kill him. Of course messing in the affairs of the gods carried a heavy price, and Torin would never doubt a celric again. If he lived to keep that promise. "I promise I'll tell no one of what I've seen...I'm quite adept at being quiet, I promise not to be a bother to you Lords and Ladies at all."

He was ready to spring into action if necassary. He knew of hero's who had supposedly defied the gods and lived, and while he was no hero, he certainly wanted to live.

[Koriel Zauth]

Koriel settled into a chair, long ago becoming adept as sitting in then however awkwardly. She started apprensivly at the arrival of Rasiel but the other didn't seem to notice her. She was however, confused by the halfling. "I am no lady. Lathander guides my path, but that doesn't grant me any title nor often respect." She turned back to the cowled figure. "If you feel you must atone mi'lord, that is a matter between Lathander and yourself, not a place for one such as me to interfere. He has not spoken his desires to me, but if you wish to honor him in this fashion of quests and recompence it seems a worthy guesture and one he will not be opposed to me undertaking."

[Luadril Sunsoar]

The shortest of the three winged women turned a confused golden gaze upon the nervous halfling. She smiled warmly at him, something about her caused those who felt the light of her smile kindled something bright in the depths of their hearts and instinctively knew she could be trusted. That despite the wellworn, plain longsword at her hip, she meant no harm to those in the room with her, that only those who wished to further the cause of evil would draw her wrath.

She stretched out dusky, empty hands in a peaceful gesture to Torn, and spoke in that achingly lovely voice that seemed to always hold a hint of song in it. "I think perhaps you may be wrong about that Master Hin, I am no Lady much as my Sister in Faith. Simply a knight of Lathander. My Lord is not a haughty god like some, that you are here means that you have talents that could be used in His cause."

Luadril stepped toward Torin slowly and without sudden gestures as she continued to hold out a hand in gesture of possible friendship, quite unaware of the dazzling figure she made with the firelight reflecting off of her golden wings and warm butter colored armor.

[Selreth Drevarian]

"Now let me get this straight," came a smooth, yet attention commanding voice from the doorway. "You, oh wise and learned sage, are forced to stay inside this nicely appointed house by some nameless enemies who, despite your undisplayed yet impressive power, are afraid of."

Those who turned to look towards the disturbance see an elven man of about five and a half feet tall, maybe a shade more, and maybe a hundred and ten pounds. His hair, straight and light brown, is back and out of his way in a functional yet well maintained ponytail while his grey eyes sparkle with mischief. The thing that draws the most attention is the way his hand rests on the hilt of his rapier, and the fact that he appears both completely calm and completely in control of the situation as he slowly strides into the room.

"You also feel you have something to atone for, yet instead of working directly towards you atonement, you have the church of the God you've chosen to atone to hire two of its own, as well as one, two, three, four more 'Adventurers,' for lack of a better word, to do this important task for you." As the arrogant elf counted off those assembled in the room, he appeared to confine his count to only one hand, and not use any digit twice. However, any second glance shows only the standard maximum number of fingers for any elf. "Six grown and worldly people to wipe clean a slate that only you and your chosen God know about? I'm not entirely sure I want to know what it is that you did to require pennance of this calibur, but consider the question asked anyway."

The elf stops his slow advance into the room and stands next to one of the high-backed chairs with a slightly amused expression on his face, waiting for an answer from the aged sage.

[Ancient History]

The aged sage, who had been rather engrossed in the drama being actled out between the winged half-drow and everyone else, turned toward Selreth Drevarian, and spoke in a dry voice.

"Lathander is not my patron. The details of my crime are not for you, and my service to the Church of Lathander is for such wisdom and lore I can provide, in reperation of an injury to the Church. Suffice it to say that I have been warned to limit my interference on Abeir-Toril by a number of Mystra's Chosen; and this dwelling, bounded within Silverymoon's mythal and wards, was agreed to be an acceptable place for me to continue on this plane.

As some of you may or may not have noticed, this dwelling exists in Silverymoon, yet the portal you have come through was from a shrine outside the city. The wards of Silverymoon do not penetrate here...not quite. Which reminds me, when you leave by that door..."

Here, the sage points at the portal from which the group entered.

"...you will be in Silverymoon and the wards will take full effect. I suggest that all of you take one of the ward tokens from this box before you leave...especially you, Selreth Drevarian."

At this, the old mage produces a bronzewood box etched with all manner of sigils, and opens it to display a number of clay tokens stringed on leather thongs. He stands up and places it on a table near the door.

"When it is time for you to leave Silverymoon, you must come back here. The tokens crumble when wholly beyond the mythal.

Now, if we are all quite finished, I will explain your first mission. The payment, aside from a good deed done, will be that."

At this point, the old man points to a small, dark metal chest by the fire, which animates, walks towards his coaxing finger, and opens. A golden glow suffuses the faces of those nearby.

"Five hundred platinum pieces. Plus, of course, I will determine the nature of whatever magical devices you manage to find and bring back for no cost."

[Torin Proud]

Torins fear changed to awe as the golden wings of the godling reflected the light of the torches. As she held out her hands towards him he smiled, a warm feeling of...goodness? Goodness? What the hell was wrong with him? These things had him out of sorts. He was missing the conversation at hand. Were they using magic on him? Was that it?

For a brief second anger flared up inside him! Were these godlings trying to influence his mind? No wait...this was far too confusing for him. Damn it. he hadn't come here expecting this. He had prepared for nearly every concievable twist-violence, under handed dealings, even sex. But how often did the average person see a winged elf or godling? Let alone three!

Suddenly he heard the words five hundred and platinum pieces. Pushing his fear and awe aside, he stammered a quick apology. "My apologies...I had no idea...just have never seen....you know..." His voice trailed off as he turned. "Five hundred pieces of platinum, you say?"

The nod from the old human whet his appetitte. But the magic was unsettling. So much magic in one spot. Was this a job he could handle?

[Luadril Sunsoar]

Still gently smiling, Luadril returned to her place near her Sister, thought she was disturbed by what she had seen in Torin's eyes. His greed and anger didn't disturb her overly much, she was used to such and since those emotions didn't seem overwhelming, she knew it would be safe to keep an occassional eye out for the halfling without needing a constant watch.

What did disturb her was the obvious awe and fear she saw before the anger and greed. She'd seen such reactions before and couldn't understand it. Yes, she had wings and partly drow, but she was but a newly made knight of Lathander, not a hero like Brace Snowmane, the man who presided over her novitiate. As she turned her attention back to the sage she pushed her concerns to the back of her mind. It was an issue she would learn to deal with over time.

"So what is this task you would set us, Sir?" As she asked her question, she didn't even glance towards the platinum, not having the care for material goods the way some of the others did.

[Torin Proud]

"These tokens, what exactly are they for? And why will we need them?"

[Ancient History]

"You are to recover certain dangerous artifacts from an ancient crypt deep within the forests south of Silverymoon; in the lands of the Sons of Uthgar. The Temple of Lathander is Silverymoon is constructing a secret vault to store and contain them upon your return. This pack contains directions to the crypt, based on an ancient text I have deciphered; as well as instructions on how to handle the artifacts to prevent...accidents. Likewise, the pack contains some basic monies and supplies for your journey. Anything you need should be acquired from the markets today and tomorrow; I expect you to leave on your quest at dawn the day after tomorrow at the latest. You will receive the platinum to divide amongst yourselves when you return.

All of you and whatever mounts you may possess or purchase shall be given lodging at a hostel run by a pair of layfolk; it is directly across the street."

With that, the sage thrusts the pack...which looks decidely slight...into the hands of Torin. Then he goes and sits back by the fire, with his back to everyone else.

[Koriel Zauth]

Koriel looked to the platinum momentarily. She had no inherant interest in it, but as she had discovered, trade and favors had little worth outside of her forest, it was coin that held sway, and one didn't always have the time to make arrows or find food if either could even be done in the area.

"I am sure Lathander will appreciate your generosity."

She looked back to Luadril, it was the paladin who decided where they went if Lanthander had not given Koriel guidance that morning.

[Luadril Sunsoar]

She was silent for a time save for the faint rustling of her wings as she contemplated the mage's request then shrugged slightly.

"I am agreeable to this undertaking, it should prove to be interesting."

[Jarthal]

Jarthal looked into the abulatory chest, and all the treasure it contained. An absolute fortune. He understood that perhaps princes and kings dealt with such sums, but he certainly was neither. And, to judge by some of his companions, neither were they. (Though one could never be sure with half-creatures like the winged ones.)

Secret vaults? Crypts? Ancient artifacts? Enormous payout? They weren't getting the full story. His gaze remained on the chest for a moment, his face pensive.

"What exactly is the nature of these artifacts?"

[Rasiel Qeliasin Silanith]

"Yes, and what exactly is your nature, outsider?"

Silanith glared intently at the sage, searching for any identifying marks or telltale signs of his nature and origin. If the chosen of Mystra and the Church of Lathander have both shown great interest in this one, and the mythal of Silverymoon would not let him through, then his would be a very educational case to study.

[Ancient History]

The sage sighed and turned back to them.

"Hah! Cynical and inquistive. I could almost make an apprentice out of you, Rasiel Qeliasin Silanth!"

The sage grew more serious.

"I am not an outsider, and this mythal is no great burden to me, though the Chosen of Mystra do not know it. I've more tricks than that. The point is that I agreed to stay here and not use my powers directly.

My knowledge on the artifacts in the crypt is incomplete...there should be an orb, like a crystal ball, but made from obsidian and filled with shifting runes like distant twinkling stars. Don't play with it, don't attempt to use it, and as you value your minds and souls don't try to read the runes. A few of the high priests of Lathander and I believe we can render the orb beneficial.

There will also be a jade statue in the form of writhing snakes, about a foot long. Very ancient, very powerful, but not actually malignant. All the same, it is very important that you do not spill any blood on the statue. Try not to stare at it too hard, either. The artifact needs to be kept safe from those who would use it.

There may be ancient sheets of hammered metal inscribed with arcane runes. I doubt it, but it is possible. They contain ancient secrets...not as ancient as me, but older than any of the current empires of Faerun. Again, try not to look to closely at them and do not try to read them. The clerics of the Morninglord are quite eager that their lore not become widespread, for their own reasons, which I agree with."

[Razbar ibn Mujallah]

Razbar listening to everyone intently, making mental notes to himself of each person and particularly about the objective. Anything that got his hands on magical artifacts was pretty good news, payment aside.

After awhile, he spoke up. "So it's just a common burglary. Shouldn't be too much of a burdern." He stood from his seat and moved towards Torin, who held the pack, cautiously. "I'd like to take a look at the directions, if that's alright."

He liked to know where he was going. He didn't care for all the bickering. Dangerous magical items should be kept out of crypts, and in the hands of those who can properly use them. That was their purpose. He knew this. But he did not know these people, so he did not join in the argument.

[Torin Proud]

The old man shoved the pack into his hands with a speed that was disconcerting to Torin. Someone his age shouldn't be able to move like that. He'd make a mental note of that-and whatever else he could. Maybe it would pay off in the long run.

"Wait, let me gett his straight. You want us to break into a vault and steal something we shouldn't trya nd read, touch too much or even look at a whole lot? Does anyone else think there is something wrong with all of this?"

All thoughts of the pack were completely gone. Even though he was holding it, it was like his hands had gone numb, the pack forgotten for now.

[Luadril Sunsoar]

Luadril gazed about the room with cold golden eyes, the warmth that was inherent to her personality was in hiding as she slowly got to her feet and looked everyone in the eyes as if seeking something. And not liking what she saw. Finally she spoke, her voice still lyrical, but it felt as if the sun was hidden behind thick clouds and her wings partly mantled.

"Burglary is how you see this? When the people that the crypt belonged to are long gone and are not there to protect its contents themselves? You see us as being common thieves when we are trying to keep dangerous items out of the hands of the Darkness? Do you truly wish to see those who follow Bane and Cyric to get their hands on them? I assure you, if this individual has located them, I would be greatly surprised if those who tread the dark ways of the soul have not heard of them. We have a chance to protect innocents and you think of us as thieves ?"

She scowled at those gathered save for Koriel then whirled towards the sage, her gaze burning as brightly as sun at noon in the Anauroch during Flamerule. "What kind of miserable scoundrels did you gather to aid you in your undertakings? Perhaps my sister and I are at the wrong gathering after all!"

[Rasiel Qeliasin Silanith]

Rasiel pulled herself up from the wall, standing at her full height. Dusting off her skirts, she moved softly towards the portal, reaching to take a token from the open box.

"As our gracious host will not further identify himself, and our beautiful lady of the morninglord has taken to arguing semantics, I shall take my leave. I expect that the cooler heads will meet at the hostel later to discuss necessary details. I trust our lodgings have been prepared?"

Rasiel turned expectantly towards the ancient sage.

[Ancient History]

"Perhaps I have not been clear: I am asking you to travel a considerable distance to recover dangerous artifacts in exchange for a reasonably large sum of money, and the joy of a good deed done. I want to the artifacts stored away before other people get them. My instructions may sound odd, but please trust me they are for your own good...I highly doubt that you'll encounter anything on your journey quite as dangerous as the least of those artifacts.

Naturally, the Church of Lathander will use their clerical powers should anything untoward happen during the journey. I'll personally pay the expense should anyone need to be resurrected, provided you manage to recover the body.

If that is all, I highly suggest you take stock of your supplies and the monies in the pouch and be off to the markets before the end of the day."

[Luadril Sunsoar]

A faint smile curved her lips, "Semantics, lady Rasiel? Perhaps to you, but how someone speaks can be an indication of how they think and feel about something. And while I'm sure this once again convinces everyone how prissy knights can be, I want to be sure of those I am to be working with."

She shrugged gracefully, all signs of her temper seemingly to have passed, "I wish to be sure I am not going to be working with individuals with overly dubious morals. Regardless of how I feel about that personally, by oath I cannot work with such. And speaking of oaths..."

The paladin returned her gaze upon the sage,"I am sworn to uphold the law where ever I may be. Before I take one of those wards, will the city have issues with me entering? While I may not agree, they do have laws regarding what races may enter. I believe Koriel and I both violate that law unless dispensation has been granted. While I would find it personally amusing to end up either in jail or evicted from the city, I'm quite sure my God and Church would not."

[Ancient History]

The law does not truly forbid any race, though some are not welcome. The mythal radiates an antipathy to drow and others, true, but only to those of evil bent. In any event, the tokens relax such abjurations for those who wear them. You should have no trouble from that quarter. As for your appearence, the best I may provide--and this for all of you--are the stonecloth robes worn by a certain sect of aesetics dedicated to the Morninglord, or at least an aspect of them. They will conceal your wings and cast your faces in shadow, which should be sufficient.

In the unlikely event you encounter difficulties with officers of the law, do not resist but tell them that you are under the auspice of Aryas-Amon. The Lady Alustriel knows me, and I will handle the details."

[Koriel Zauth]

The room was altogether too small for so many people, and altogether too on edge. The sages' intentions seemed good, and it was true there were many things that Lanthander wished to remain safe from the hands of evil. Comparitavly a shadow in Luadril's wake, Koriel left her seat near the sage while he spoke with Luadril and the avariel Rasiel, taking a token from the profferred box and stepping through the portal, leaving with a quiet reply to Luadril's question.

"I will go find out."

[Luadril Sunsoar]

Luadril bowed to the wizard, "I will keep that in mind then my lord, but I think I shall decline the offer of the use of the robes. I am a knight of the Morninglord and as such will not conceal what I am. If others have issues...well that is their problem, not mine. As long as I break no laws or oaths, I am content."

She swept her wings behind her carefully so that she would not knock anyone over, picked up one of the tokens and followed Koriel.

[Razbar ibn Mujallah]

Razbar watched as the winged woman scowled at him, and listened to her prattle on about this being a good thing, and so on, and so forth. He even yawned during her speech. It did not truly concern him. He knew what his own motivations were to assist in this job. It was not interesting to him to hear what her moral justifications were.

After she had left, he again looked to Torin Proud.

"I see nothing wrong with it. The dead are not, in fact, using these artifacts. It would be a shame to let them go to waste. Now let me see that map, if you please."

He extended a thin hand from his overly large coat, palm up. His eyes were alive with thoughts that he was not conveying.

[Rasiel Qeliasin Silanith]

Rasiel stared coolly at the devoted pair as they passed through the portal. She closed her eyes and calmly took a deep breath. Opening her eyes, she looked at the remaining assortment.

"Well, we have our work set out, I suggest we begin preparations. Halfling, if you would please follow we can gather any necessary supplies. Anyone who wishes to join us is most certainly welcome."

Rasiel squatted down, holding her head at Torin's level and smiling slightly.

"Shall we go shopping, then?"

[Torin Proud]

Briefly Torin was angry, but he concealed his dissatisfaction with blank eyes and a false smile. Why wouldn't this old man answer his questions, or answer the ones he did honestly? Something was certainly going on here. The question was, of course, did he care?

He certainly didn't hold to any moral absolutes like the godlings, nor did he have a knights code-she said she was a knight! A real knight!-and he certainly wasn't afraid of running afoul of local law, as long as it were profitable. This seemed profitable, but could he squeeze another copper from the oldster? If there was one thing his Da' had taught him, it was to recognize when opportunity knocked. He had to make sure he got the most out of this for him.

But he couldn't squeeze too hard. Pushing the bargain too far was a sure way to blow the deal. He wasn't here to do that. He needed this mans riches-even if he didn't trust him. He in fact trusted the oldster less than he trusted the Calishite, and that was saying a lot.

"I see nothing wrong with it. The dead are not, in fact, using these artifacts. It would be a shame to let them go to waste. Now let me see that map, if you please." The Calishman eyes were alive, almost conspiratorial. What did he know that Torin didn't? Growing up Torin had learned three things about Calishites.

Never trust a Calishman with your coin, a camel, or your daughter. They'd abuse the hells out of all three. Maybe his Da' hadn't know all he thought about Calishites. Returning the mans gaze Torin smiled for real. He was going to like this Razbar ibn Mujallah. Almost as much as he'd like Jarthal. Maybe this was an errand worth undertaking, despite the old tricksters beguiling promises.

"Waste not, want not as my Da' was found of saying" Torin smiled, this time genuinely. Maybe this could be a lot more intresting than he originally thought.

"Well, we have our work set out, I suggest we begin preparations. Halfling, if you would please follow we can gather any necessary supplies. Anyone who wishes to join us is most certainly welcome." Rasiel Qeliasin Silanith was how she had introduced herself. Unlike the rest of the godlings she was nearly six feet tall-her body at least. He couldn't tell how long her wings were, but certainly they were bigger than any bird he had ever seen. Her appearence was far gruffer than the other two, perhaps they hailed from different planes? He'd heard once that such a thing was possible.

Rasiel squatted down, holding her head at Torin's level and smiling slightly. In that moment Torin despised her. She thought of him as a child, like so many others cursed with their immense bungling size. He'd prove that in the end. He always did.

"Shall we go shopping, then?"

"Tis a good idea, but shouldn't we see these maps first m'lady?" Torin concealed his anger with a smile that didn't seem able to touch his ears...

[Selreth Drevarian]

"I've pilfered a great many things from a good number of places, but I've never had the need or want to rob a grave. Lets hope that my already argumentative compatriots aren't wrong in saying that the original owners of these artifacts won't mind us storing them in a far safer place." Selreth picked a token out of the box and examined it quickly, then started to roll it between his fingers, eventually making it dissapear with little apparent effort.

"Sage, I will donate half of my payment to the chuch when this is all said and done if you would agree to answer some of the questions that I have. My arrival in this land just in time for this quest of yours seems a bit fortuitous, and seeing as you knew my name before I even mentioned it to anyone, I have to assume you know a great deal more, possibly including the way I can get home." Glancing towards the portal and then back to his host, he scowled.

"Portals. Why does it always have to be portals?" Without another word nor waiting for a response, the apparently elven adventurer strode out the door and into the sunlight. Being outdoors and away from the sage seemed to do his mood a great deal of good, as he actually smiled as his eyes adjusted to the much brighter light. As he adjusted he cast his gaze about, looking for the Halfling with the Sage's bag. Selreth cleared his throat and started to speak, his voice smooth and calming, but loud enough so the others could hear him over the activities on the street.

"Hopefully we won't need too much, and what we do need we'll be able to pay for. I'd rather not have to acquire too much through the not quite legal means that I'm skilled in, as it might make returning here a bit more difficult. Does anyone have lodgings here in Silverymoon? There are proper introductions to be made, and we need to do a bit of planning if we're going to retrieve these artifacts and all stay alive.

[Jarthal]

Jarthal watched the winged creature’s self-righteous outburst with mild interest. He was sure that she meant to cow them all into shame and humility, but her words rolled off him like water from a goose. For starters, she had completely overdone it. The speech was too long, which spread the effect out too much, wasting what was otherwise a pretty good use of the wings. ‘Intelligent’ creatures relied far too much on words; animals seemed to get the message across pretty clearly without all that fuss.

After she stalked out, he turned his attention to the half-man, who was starting to rifle through the contents of the pack they were given. "Waste not, want not…” gave him a bit of a start. That was exactly the sort of thing Jarthal’s father would have said, only without the unnecessary second pair of words. The little one might turn out to be likeable enough, after all.

The pack itself was amazing. Jarthal had heard of such containers before – bigger on the inside than they appeared to be. However, knowing that they existed and actually seeing one were two very different things. He was fascinated, and had to have a closer look. The maps, as well, were of keen interest.

After they were done examining the contents (Nearly 100 arrows! Who could need so many?), he looked over at the halfling and held out a hand.

“Small man, the pack?”

[Koriel Zauth]

Sunlight and open sky eased Koriel's agitation. Her wings, more silver than gray in the sunlight, quivered, not unlike the behavior of a horse kept too long in stable. Passersby stared but she looked away in deference. As the others walked out she glanced across the street to their purported lodgings, her soft voice somehow not geting lost in the general noises of a city.

"I did not mean to cut your discussions short with my exit. I do believe lodging has been arranged for us already, though. I...would rather avoid the market, I need nothing that I do not already have, and we have been provided with ample supplies."

[Torin Proud]

The first test in any business relationship was trusting your associates. Could you or couldn't you? Torin of course knew this was a trick question. Only a fool trusts anyone other than himself or family.

But the appeareence of trust was a powerful tool. Torin understood that he had to make sure that they at least believed he trusted them to a certain point. With a nod he handed the pack over to Jarthal.

[Ancient History]

The directions to the vault are as follows (the sage did not include a map! The bastard!)

The directions are written in Common:

"Ye must travel due south from Silverymoon to Everlund, and from there further south along the Evermoor way and into the High Forest, to the northernmost footsteps of the Lost Peaks. There you will find an ancient and decrepit temple, resembling a small hill of stone and dedicated to a sun diety of a prior age.

From the top of the temple, looking east with the setting sun, two markers should appear present. Mark well their position, for they are the true start of your road.

The markers set the beginning of a small east-flowing river, down which you must pass...some notes and reports have declared the terrain there very treacherous, and the river the only passable route. The river, which is very straight (I believe it the final remnant of a forgotten canal), will pass in due time an arch into a veritable city made of stone.

Three day's travel from the city to the east should find you at the Uthgart burial mound...the vault was said to have been buried in Elven times, but a tree was planted there to mark it, and my divinations reveal that both that sapling and a passage to the vault from the surface remain.

Once within the vault, you must descend to the lowest chamber, marked by the idol of a toad and three upright, circular archways. Beware the archways, and do not enter them at all costs. I have sensed none of the original guardians remaining in this chamber, but be on your guard for whatever other creatures may lair there. Collect the artifacts and leave."

[Ancient History]

Your group is standing on the cobbled streets of Silverymoon. Directly across from you is the Rising Sun Inn and Tavern, a two-story edifice with a wrap-around porch and a wooden sign brightly painted with a dawning sun. Laughter and the smell of ale comes from the common room, the yeasty tang of fresh bread from the kitchen wafts across the street.

Busy citizens give your group a bit of a room and a curious eye as they happen about their business. Behind you is the artifical hillock of a halfling house, the door you emerged from is an atypical regular human door, marked with a crescent moon and a brass knob in the shape of a star. A pair of halfling children tend a pair of goats and their kid grazing on the hillock.

The rain has settled down to a light afternoon drizzle, and a man goes through the streets with a long pole lighting the street lamps for this evening.

In the distance, you can just make out the glow of the moonbridge, heavy with traffic, outlined by the falling rain.

[Luadril Sunsoar]

The fresh air felt good and Luadril stretched out her wings to their full 15 foot span unconciously being careful not to hit anyone or anything, in natural light her wings sparkled even more than they had in the light from the fire. With a snap she furled her wings tightly behind her and surveyed the city with golden eyes bright with curiosity. When she saw the name of the inn, she smiled approvingly, then turned to Koriel and her new companions.

"I wish to pay my respects to the temple of my Lord here and I know I'm not the only one with errands, shall we return to meet for dinner at the inn in an hour's time to discuss our plans?"

[Torin Proud]

The damn sage had practically shoved them into the streets, through his strange portal, after his scant and hardly impressive set up. And now they found themselves suddenly thrust into the damn streets. Torin already didn't like any of this. teh temptation to simply drop the damned medallion on the ground and walk away was so great that for a second he thought he might burst.

What sort of fool did this? Dropped a band mismatched godlings and common grave robbers in the street?Suddenly Luadril stretched out her wings to their full 15 foot span! What the hells! Torin shook his head. So much subtlety.

He watched as the two children- of his own race even!-simply gawked at the godling. Torin didn't blame them-he was still in awe att he size of their wings. Nearly five times as big his own height! What were they thinking? Didn't they know that they were drawing all sorts of attention? People were openly staring, some frightened, others in awe-a few even with greedy dark brooding eyes, that Torin might have had himself if he had bothered to think about how much one of these things were worth to a zoo, or a collector...

[Koriel Zauth]

"One hour."

Koriel was quite happy to have time alone. Even Lathander understood that her devotions were no less fervent if she did not see to them in a temple. With a snap, she threw her wings open, launching herself into the sky above the city. While it was not forest, the spires and towers provided a resonable substitution and ample places to be out of the crowd.

As she left, a single small feather floated down in front or Torin, and while its silvery color was unusual, without its owner nearby, it could easily have been the feather of any common bird.

[Luadril Sunsoar]

The silver haired, golden eyed-and-winged drow smiled after her friend, proud of the other's self-control. She turned to the others and her expression was a bit more serious, "Since no one seems to object, I shall return within an hour's time to discuss our plans. If there is any reason to find me before that time, I shall be paying my respects to the local Dawnbringers."

Luadril bowed to those gathered with an elegant sweep of her wings then erupted into graceful flight, leaving a few golden feathers slowly falling to the ground lit by their own inner radiance. In the distance her sweet voice was raised in song rejoicing the beauty of the day which brought unexpected smiles to those who heard and made the day seem a little brighter.

[Torin Proud]

Torin was too speechless to say anything as the winged godlings vaulted skyward, leaving only a few feathers silently floating through the air. They really flew! Torin's eyes were wide with wonder!

[Torin Proud]

Shaking the slack jawed look of wonderment from his face he turned to Jarthal, Razbar ibn Mujallah and Rasiel Qeliasin Silanith. Facing them he smiled widely, his best neutral features in place. "I don't know about you, but I think we might want to go see about trading this voucher up for some coin."