The Flayed Man part 20

It's good news, at least, to be out of the sewer. Climbing into the Myrrish township proper (and getting stared at by a couple of children as you emerge), you find it likely you're not as far off the mark as you could have been.

At least judging by the town architecture and what not.

Not that Malik would actually -know- that. He's never been to this kingdom before, much less the city. Pulling himself out of the sewer, he looks to Seldan, casting that simple spell to start to dry him off before the heat gets truly oppressive in wet clothes. "Have you any idea where we are?" he asks the sorcerer.

Seldan's armor is already dry and immaculate, and a quick word and a gesture sees the rest of him dry as well, after a few minutes. He will also dry anyone else in need of same, before turning to look down the street. "We are in the town of which I spoke," he answers Malik, his Myrrish accent blending better with the townsfolk here than it ever does in Alexandria. "Come, the inn is this way. If it is yet there, it should serve us as suitable lodging." Once the matter of being wet - and drying his gear - is settled, he turns to make his way down the street.

GAME: Seldan refreshes spells.

Iskandar tugs off the bronze headband he wears and runs his other hand through his hair, still wet from his little swim, to smooth it back. He uses the hem of his short cloak to wipe off his face and beard, then sluices a bit more water off of his armor before pulling his headgear back on. "Hello there," he raises a hand to greet one of the children, and adds a friendly smile. Then he turns his head to look at Seldan. "An inn? Hmm...normally my first stop in any town I visit, but do we really have time? Which way to the border?"

Malik follows along after Seldan, then looks to Iskandar, raising an eyebrow. "I suppose," he starts, "that we could proceed directly there. I'm not sure that it's the wisest course of action, though. Without a base of operation, should something go wrong, we're largely at the mercy of the countryside for protection."

"We might well wander for some time, do we not seek word of their passing," Seldan points out to Iskandar, pausing after only a few steps. "Would you have me dry you off? It is doubtless uncomfortable beneath the armor, and the spell will linger for some time yet." If Iskandar lets him, he will turn the simple cantrip on the Jotun as well, and if not, he will simply subside without further comment. "I would begin here, and learn what we may of what his group is about, and any dangers we might face in the search."

GAME: Seldan casts Prestidigitation. Caster Level: 15 DC: 17

Myrrish architecture is typically distinct and often relies on a lot of white and gold colors. That's true here, certainly.

The inn in question is none too far away and at least you'll be able to get a clearer idea of where you're going there, more than likely, in addition to washing horrible sewer stink off your things. Even prestidigitation takes time. As soon as you enter, the muscular, grey-haired woman standing behind the bar of the common area doing a double take of acknowledgment.

Oh yeah, she totally recognizes Seldan.

Iskandar quickly nods in agreement to Seldan's offer. But he stands still in the street for a few moments as the others walk away, an uncharacteristic indeciveness on his face. It's a surreptitious check of his wineskin and the level of wine within that finally decides the matter for him, and he moves after, catching up easily with his long-legged stride. "I'm quite at home in the countryside," he assures Malik. "And in fact, I like to make my base of operations wherever I happen to end up." It's quite possible he has a different definition of the words.

Malik walks in behind the others, pulling down his hood as he looks around. Catching the gray-haired woman's nod to Seldan, he walks up behind the man, whispering in his ear, "Former lover, perhaps? Do I need to be worried about going to sleep?" It's clearly teasing, not in any way serious, and with that he looks to Iskandar, grinning a bit. "You have your faith in your gods to protect you. Commendable. But my god appreciates the value of a good, well-prepared plan. And who am I to question that wisdom?"

Seldan is more than willing to finish drying off the Jotun, although washing the sewer stink off will have to come a bit later. With that done, and with the hot summer sun beating down, the fair-complected paladin is more than ready to get out of it. He leads the way to the inn readily enough, but at the gray-haired woman's nod, he flushes quite pink - and deeper still at Malik's remark, eyes lowering in embarrassment. "Well met again, Mistress Leitha, it is good to see you well." Nope, not quite meeting her eyes. "Have you lodging and perhaps baths for the lot of us? " Malik does not get a verbal answer.

<OOC> Lanier says, "I'm Stridering it."

<OOC> Malik nods!

<OOC> Iskandar applauds!

In a darker corner of the inn, a lone figure sits with his back to the wall and his shadowed face towards the door. The hood of his cloak is pulled up, as if guarding the man from a chill of some kind. In his right hand rests the bowl of a long-stemmed pipe, the stem of which extends up to rest between what are presumably the man's lips. Interestingly enough, there's no smoke eminating from the pipe or the man.

"... well, I'll be! Been a long time, boy," she says to Seldan. "Why don't you come sit down, have a drink or two, and tell me all about what you've been doing all these years... aside from getting beat up by horses." She smiles, warmly. The common room is... not terribly busy here in the inn, but there are obvious guests enjoying it for its stated purpose.

Iskandar looks between Seldan and the barkeeper. Then he glances around. He spots a particularly sturdy looking chair and then seats himself. He knows how these things go. Whatever change they had of rushing off to the frontier seems to be dwindling, but so it goes. Iskandar straightens up a bit, trying to peek at a bottle he spies behind the bar and read the label from where he's seated.

Malik glances over his shoulder at the stranger in the cloak, with the pipe. Exactly the kind of thing that the paranoid wizard would be cautious of, moreso since they're dealing with what is otherwise a mostly unknown party. The stranger gets a good looking-over, the archer frowning a bit before he turns back to look at the inn-keeper. "Getting beat up by meaner things than horses," he tells her, letting Seldan fill in what details he chooses. Another glance over his shoulder to the hooded figure. "Hopefully just a retelling, and less a demonstration." Though he doesn't sound terribly hopeful about that.

A light, rather embarrassed chuckle from Seldan, although he does look up at the warm greeting. "In truth is he not wrong," he nods to Malik. "It has been an eventful last few years, indeed, and yet by the Dreamer's grace and will am I seen safely through. I would share tales with you, but ... not idly am I here. We seek a company that may be working with a mercenary group known as the Frostmantles. Have you seen a group such, near the border?"

At the mention of the Frostmantles, the pipe stem drops away from the mouth of the hooded figure, his head moving just slightly to appraise Seldan for the briefest of moments, before his lips find the unlit pipe yet again. Almost on instainct, a hand reaches up to tug on the edge of the cloak, pulling it tighter around himself as if it somehow got colder at the mntion of them.

"Not familiar with them, personally, but if you're looking for mercs you'll wanna head for the border. That's where they get stationed, typically, in one of the fortress-keeps along it where the Myrrish and the Stormgardians stare at each other and occasioinally lob insults and boulders. Skirmishes are pretty common out that way, so I'd be careful if I were you. You don't wanna get caught up in something."

A glance towards Malik, then Iskandar. She's taking the measure of his companions with a warm smile.

The hooded figure's reaction doesn't go unnoticed, though. Malik, already watching the man curiously, notes that particular reaction, leaning over to whisper, "Our hooded friend with the pipe might know something about it. Is this the part where you use your particular charms to try and convince them to share, or the part where I use -my- particular skills to convince them to share?" It sounds like those are very, very different approaches.

"I understand," Seldan tells Leitha, then leans over to listen to what is whispered to him. His smile fades as he does so, and his eyes also go to the hooded figure in the corner, his demeanor suddenly taking on something of reserve. "I will begin, but in a moment." He turns back to Leitha. "It seems late in the day to venture to the borders. Think you traveling by night there safe?"

"With all the soldiers out this way, the roads are as safe as they've ever been," replies Leith to Seldan, "but I still wouldn't risk it. These be summer nights, after all, and the beasts need to pack more in to a shorter time." She smiles, warmly, "Rooms, I hope?"

GAME: Lanier rolls Knowledge/Geography: (1)+8: 9 (EPIC FAIL)

The stem of the pipe dropping from his lips once again, the hooded figure turns the pipe enough to be able to scratch as what would be his chin, if he's human shapped in the shadows of his hood. He turns his hand back around again, and before the pipe stem returns his his mouth, a clear voice can be heard from within the depths of the cloak, "Whoever's 'skill' you decide to send over, bring fire." With a chomp, the hooded figure chomps back down on the pipe stem.

Malik raises an eyebrow, looking -- almost impressed at the stranger's hearing. He wasn't whispering very loudly, either way. The look of suspicion doesn't -entirely- go away, but a slow grin starts to spread there. "You heard the man," he tells Seldan. "He needs fire. That is -clearly- a call for you." Whatever that means.

Since Seldan had first mentioned rooms in his greeting to Leitha, he nods at once. "Rooms indeed, and baths as well if they may be had. Teleportation is ... imperfect." He carefully does not look at Malik as he says that. "I think it ill-advised to travel unknown roads by night, and thus would I accept your drinks as well.

The hooded figure speaks, and he breaks off tat line of discussion, snapping his head over to look. "Lanier, what brings you so far north?"

Lanier lifts his head, tilting back until his face catches some of the light from the common room of the inn, "Hello, Seldan. Presently, I'm trying to get my pipe lit." He lowers the stem from his mouth again, which twists into dissatisfaction as he continues, "More remotely, The guild sent me out here." He nods to Malik, then casts an emerald-eyed glance towards Iskandar, before he settles back on Seldan, "What brings you out here?"

Iskandar is by now slouched with one arm draped over the table. He leaves his elbow resting on the table but raises his hand, in greeting to Lanier. "The Guild? The Adventurer's Guild?" He glances at Seldan and then back to Lanier. "What a turn. We're also here on a quest for the Guild. One of investigaton," he adds. He studies Lanier's attire and then. "Out in the countryside, if you're interested."

"Rooms it is!" Leithe seems cheerful. "How many will it be" She asks, glancing upstairs, "We've got plenty tonight. Not the heavy season, really." She twines her braid around her fingers and then looks towards Seldan. "Drinks as well!" She's definitely getting them poured, of course. Looks like the stiffest of available drinks too.

Malik looks over at Iskandar for a moment, raising an eyebrow at something the man said, that smile widening a bit. But ultimately he turns his attention back to Seldan and Lanier. Clearly, they know each other. "If you're interested," he repeats, "and don't mind the threat of a rogue mage ripping you into pieces finer than smoke from that pipe with a spell." Because everyone knows the threat of death in horrible ways is basically catnip to guild members.

Seldan's attention is still, for the moment, on Lanier and his pipe, but turns back towards Leitha as the mention of rooms comes up. "Two rooms, and four drinks. Ale for myself, and as they will." He tilts a head to indicate his companions and the man in the corner. "A tindertwig can I spare you, for the purpose," he offers, turning and unslinging the pack from his back. It oes not take long to locate the desired item, and this he strides to Lanier to hand him.

He returns to the counter, and money for rooms changes hands. "I find that swiftclaws are much like horses with talons, in many ways, though the balance of riding one is rather different."

Lanier raises an eyebrow, peering sidelong towards Iskander until he nods his head, "I can be persuaded." He then looks at Malik, the edges of his lips turning down into a frown, "When you put it like that, however..." Finally, his eyes rest on Seldan, "Thank you." He takes a moment, sparking the tindertwig and setting it to the ask of lighting the pipe. In no time, the rich smell of the pipe mingles with the usual scents of the inn's common room. Lanier reaches up and lowers the pipe just for a moment, "There are mercenary bases in the north. I haven't heard tell of which one is the Frostmantle's base, but there's a place to ask." He looks up from his pipe, "I'll show you where."

Iskandar takes an experimental sip of the drink he's given. Then he smiles and nods his approval. He throws it back and sets down the empty cup. "Hah!" he laughs, blinking away suddenly watery eyes. "I'd say we're off to a fine start. Should we get started first thing in the morning?"

So it seems tomorrow morning is when you set off. Leithe sets about ensuring your rooms are prepared while offering a hearty meal of stew and as much booze as you want. You're soon able to depart for your rooms and rest through the night. A rare, uninterrupted and peaceful evening, it would appear. No monsters attack, no demons roar in the night, no explosions caused by goblins or gnomes.

It's.... peaceful.

You awaken the next morning and get to partake in a healthy breakfast after an Althean prayer is said by Leith and soon enough you're able to prepare to leave town. Stables at which you can acquire horses are spoken of, so that can be done if you prefer to hoof it instead of boot it.

Remembering this of Leitha, Seldan accepts the prayer in good part, seeming well-rested and in good spirits. He had gone outside in the middle of the evening for approximately an hour, but said nothing of why. A good meal, good booze, tales freely told, and a good night's sleep stand him in good stead, and when they are ready to depart, he tells her, "Your welcome is as fine as I remember it. A pleasure it was to see you again."

Once all the formalities are done, he turns to the others. "Iskandar, is there a beast that will bear you? I would prefer to ride, if we may."

Malik follows them out. "There is a fine-looking Clydesdale, there. It might bear him. If you can convince it to be ridden." Because those are not the 'riding' kind of horses. Though with a wagon, the giant might not have as bad of luck. "I think we should save what magics we have for if something goes wrong." Which he sounds pretty convinced it will, from his tone, a man accepting of his destiny.