DreamLyrics™ Play-by-Post Forums Hall of Fame - Latest Top 10 completed games HHE: The Haunted Helm HHE14: Victory of Life

GM

Neither Jex or Seyja looked like they had much need of a dagger cum short sword either, so the Baronessa turned to the quiestest, most withdrawn of the assembly. The dark elf called D.

The Baronessa tensed but walked over to him, presenting him with the magic weapon.

She was struggling for the right words when Captain Achelus politely intervened.

"If anyone could appreciate such a dwarven design, I expect it would be one of the drow." He said, and wasn't without merit.

The dwarves knew about fighting in confined spaces alright, and a poniard like Scatty Schlang would make a handy side arm. The lack of quillons meant less likelihood of snagging on other equipment, and the side ring protected the fingers during the parry too.

Mother-of-pearl jangled as the page tied up the sacks and carried them over to Zoltan, who was looking particularly important in his cleaned Crusader armour.

The Seneschal cut in, settling his hand over the page's chest to stall him, while he addressed the adventurers.

"I don't mean to doubt the fine Sergeant Almador, but a man can be convinced of seeing things he did not, by those of stronger mind. And what could be stronger than a dragon's!?

"To clarify, you did return all the treasure, and the ghost was appeased, yes? It had... satisfaction, as it were?" He asked, arching his eyebrow at the paladin.

<Weston>

He was sorely tempted to whip out his sword and whap the seneschal on the head with the flat of the blade. But that was what he had been commissioned to prevent Zoltan from doing, so he took a deep breath and let it out slowly instead.

"Perhaps you would like us to take you up to Titan's Elbow and let you make your own assessment", he asked innocently. "I, for one, would be more than happy to take you up there for a stroll around."

Zoltan

His hand strays absently to the fine chain he wears around his left wrist. Made of thin metal with two entwined rings. As he does so he stares at the Senechal. That stare contains all the disdain he can muster, with a good added portion of promise that were they not standing in the Baroness' audience chamber, that comment would not pass by. Behind his eyes burn the fires of the abyss.

A moment later, as Weston replies, he relaxes, turning slightly to the Sergeant and offering him a sardonic smile.

Seyja


Having no need for such a small weapon, Seyja did not bother making a response, but she did tense somewhat at the tone the seneschal used in questioning him. She smiled at Weston's reply.

"Yes, we could make it... up close and very personal."

Sergeant Almador

He'd had proud moments in his life, but it occurred to the Sergeant that all of those he could remember were of him being proud of someone else. His parents, wife, his children, his men, etc.

Walking between the ranks of guards, dressed as a citizen of the town was humbling yet deeply gratifying. Like he, Almador, had finally achieved something.

It made him think of his eldest son. They never saw each other, and when they did they argued. His son was always talking about 'achieving' this or that, and didn't see much in his father to be proud of.

Was it possible this quest and Weston and the others had taught Sergeant Almador to better understand his own son?

He was honoured to receive the praise and reward from the Baronessa. He liked the old Baron well enough, but Lady Morgen was far more approachable, more interested in the common folk, and honestly, a thousands times easier on the eye.

The Seneschal was a numps though, and always had been.

Almador's daughter worked in the household, so he heard all about the Seneschal's megalomania. The general concensus was, that the Seneschal just didn't like taking orders from a woman. (Probably why he was still a bachelor.)

The old guard shifted on his crutch, aware of what the Seneschal was implying. That maybe his companions had intimidated or charmed him, and stolen the treasure for themselves.

Deplorable, pathetic, and an insult to the whole assembly, including the Baronessa.

He was pleased to see the fool was given short shrift, and himself said, "The deed is done, sir, and if it isn't, you will know about it soon enough. Tonight would be the night of the ghost's vengeance, were it not appeased."

Tindarien

Not one to take umbrage unless the matter is serious and the politics of this court could not merit that depth of concern, so he adds in an even tone.

"As we delivered the treasure, the ghost appeared and thanked us. Said that he and his men could finally go to their rest. I think that concludes things nicely."

GM

Showing more savoir-faire than the Seneschal himself, the heroes slammed the door on his thinly-veiled accusation, and even deflected the onus to answer back at him.

The Seneschal had raised a valid point. How could the town be sure that they weren't being duped? Fortuntely the town had an astute investigator like the Seneschal to undertake such a dangerous task....

His eyelids fluttered, as if an ogre had just broke wind in his face, and he quickly bowed and backed away, realising just where this line of questioning might lead (to the Titan's Elbow).

"Ah splendid splendid. Absolutely capital! Brave heroes, yes indeed." He said, turning to nod respectfully to the Baronessa, "Fine work, I must say, the town will be relieved!"

Lady Morgen's eyebrow twitched, but she hid her emotions masterfully. The Captain on the other hand, he shook his head at the Seneschal's antics.

"Not all of the town will be relieved." Said Captain Achelus, "The Guards will be on the look-out for these orcs you told us about. If they want in to Rosencliff, they had better bring siege engines."

The Baronessa nodded in stern agreement. Already she was discussing with her captain (and thus the Order of Averness) the possibility of creating a troop of rangers, to patrol the Sword Point, threading between the towns.

Serious concerns, but not appropriate to the occasion. The Baronessa smiled disarmingly at the heroes.

"As for the rest of the town. We shall have a feast this night, to celebrate your great triumph. Maybe tomorrow, you will pick up your troubles and worries again, but for tonight, amigos, in this place, they will unburdened." She said.

Nestaron

It wasn't a curmudgeonly spirit that made him averse to the ceremony, or grief for the fallen, he just didn't want to stand up, stiff-backed, listening to speeches.

Fortunately, that isn't what the Baronessa provided, getting down to the business immediately. Nestaron did like the woman's style! (But then he had married a southern lass himself, so maybe he was biased.)

So Nestaron stood and concentrated on his breathing, ignoring the throb from his maimed shoulder. He was glad his friends were in the mood for handling the Seneschal's prattle, because Nestaron didn't have the strength.

All in all, he was pleased that the Baronessa had treated the party to some pomp and circumstance. They deserved it, frankly.

As for the feast, Nestaron knew he wouldn't sleep well, so some good food and good cheer would be an entirely welcome way to spend the evening.

<Weston>

He managed to suppress the grin that =really= wanted to erupt when the Seneschal back pedaled so spectacularly.

He turned to the captain. "The few of us were able to drive them off, but I agree that vigilance will be important. But they seem more likely to 'infiltration' and 'ambush' than to frontal assault."

He sighed at the prospect of some sort of 'party', but, then again, it might be a good chance talk with Captain about their task and what they planed to do next.

D

He watched the antics with interest. Something deep in his soul relished the political maneuvering. He wanted to make a snide comment bit kept his tongue as the Baroness presented the Dwarven creation.

He nodded in appreciation of the words and said "I am honored by your gift. I would love to learn more of its history and yours later if that is agreeable." It was in her court now, she could talk or not as she wished.

For his part he flipped the dagger, swished it, and balanced it on its tip. He knew the weight and balance. He woukd be able to put the weapon to very good use.

[Ghosted for Neptune]

Jex

Jex had been busy regaling first the town, then the tower with the tale of their quest.

He couldn't take a break until their appetites were sated. That was a bard's duty!

He barely had time to change into clean clothes! So the ceremony was the first opportunity he had to recuperate his voice since pulling ashore, and he took full advantage of it.

Jex was still very expressive, smiles, bows of the head, furtive looks, et cetera. He was not going to waste his breath on the Seneschal though! Fortunately his companions dealt with the palid, small-minded servant admirably.

Mother-of-pearl, magic weapons, it all quickly slipped his mind when a feast was declared. A feast would mean music and a night to remember! Words and melodies danced through his thoughts, looking for the right partners.

Zoltan

He smiles at the talk of a celebratory festival. He enjoys revelry, and he is owed several things that he intends to claim. A festival is the perfect setting.

Seyja


Clean and wearing clean clothes, her injuries healing, the barbarian woman was ready for some solid food and stout drinks.

Captain Achelus

He considered Weston's advice, plotting it against their account of the ambush.

The orcs had intimidated goblins into joining their ranks, and both were armed with high quality steel weapons. Hallmarks of the Orc Lord's forces, no doubt. Achelus would report it back to the Shoppe on Spar Street, but Rosencliff would remain on alert until he was sure the orcs had moved on... which might coincide with Seyja moving on.

In the meantime?

"We will employ overlapping roving patrols, Weston. That should nix them." He said, devising the watches in his head.

Sergeant Almador

He'd already heard word of the feast and knew that the town was busy preparing.

People's relief was palpable and they wanted to celebrate, so the Baronessa's decree was almost a formality, received enthusiastically by the Sergeant's friends and family at least.

Which meant he had to be going!

He saluted his captain and men, then thanking Lady Morgen again for the honour she'd afforded him, he excused himself, pausing on his way out to speak to the adventurers.

Sergeant Almador shifted on his crutch and smiled genially at them.

"Well sirs, I must get back to my wife. Putting together a feast in an hour or two will mean raiding of the pantry, and that will mean jars to be opened, and that solemn duty truly proves a man's worth." He said with a wink.

He didn't comment on how these heroes had shown him that he was good for more than opening jars. More than a fat, over-the-hill old guard! He was still a man, as capable of great things as anyone, who could contribute to his community.

Did a pupil explain their lessons to the teacher who taught them?

No, thought Almador, he just said "Thank you" and he did, with deeply-felt sincerity.

Goodbyes weren't needed, he would see them later.

Nestaron

Something hot, easy to eat and digest, something nourishing. His stomach grumbled as he thought about it. Yes, a hot broth perhaps? Exactly what he needed.

The half-elf looked forward to the feast and warming himself with the town's happy enthusiasm. But he knew that whatever came tomorrow or the next day, he would not be travelling with Tindarien and the rest of the party. He had to return home, to heal properly if ever he could.

Memories of his home, his wife and sons were too potent for Nestaron to dwell on. He dared not think about them, feeling the well of emotion and afraid that he might be too frail to hold it in check.

He had to make haste, catch the first ship bound for Santa Cora, and from there to Vigil and Fullcatch Bay, where his family awaited him in a village built on stilts.

So Nestaron could understand the Sergeant of the Guard's desire to get back.

"Likewise, Sergeant Almador." Said the cleric, "Likewise."

Sergeant Almador

The man-at-arms looked from face to face, and bowed his head respectfully.

Before shuffling from the room, he paused and turned.

"Actually sirs, it's Gill. My name that is, Gill Almador. At your service."

<Weston>

"I am sure that you know much more about defending your town than I do", he said with a nod of acknowledgement for the Captain. "And it does sound like a reasonable plan. Just ... well, they were willing to jump our party, so you may want to beef up the patrols ... unless you hope to use smaller patrols as bait to gauge their resolve", he finished. He considered both ideas. Each had pluses and minuses. While he was quite willing to put himself at risk, he wouldn't like having to 'gamble' with the lives of others. He was glad that he was not in the Captain's shoes, didn't envy the man having to make the hard choices.

He welcomed the shift of thoughts when Almador came to make his excuses. "What", he asked looking surprised. "You would turn down a long boring dinner with a bunch of stuffed shirts to spend time with you friends and family? I am shocked, shocked I say", but he couldn't keep it up and started chuckling. "You are indeed the lucky one ... Gill", he said as he offered his hand to the man he had come to know and respect.

D

He spent much of his time in silence. The Captain's thoughts seemed reasonable. Though to be fair most of the dark elf's own tactics were centered on one or just a couple. Not the kinds of engagements that they had spent much of the last few days fighting.

He bade the man at arms well with a silent wave and a nod of head. Mostly he wished he were going to such a warm embrace as that of a loving family. Friends he reflected might have started to be made again as he looked around the room.

For now though he was being patient. The baroness is who he wanted to know more about but that wish might not be granted.

GM

Gill Almador clasped Weston's hand and shook it, as he would with any of that esteemed company. It was the Baronessa who spoke though, a mischievous smirk on her face.

"I am afraid Señor Weston that the whole town will be dining together this eve." She said, then looking down at her own frontage, "But if you wish to stuff a shirt and bring it with you, it would be invited."

Almador chuckled. He'd been kept abreast of plans by his daughter.

All the activity that could be heard and smelled from the town beneath the loggia was in preparation for the feast, to be held on the seafront.

The man-at-arms had to get back. His companions on the quest had started out as strangers, but now they were kindred. Almador had to admit, they still looked a little out of place in Rosencliff, but yes, he reckoned they'd be fine.

...And if they needed Sergeant Almador, they knew where to find him. When ever, why ever, if they needed him, he would come. Weston, D, Tindarien, Seyja, Jex or Zoltan. He was their man.

He turned and left.

Left you in the same loggia where you had stayed only two nights ago. Of course, the apartments had been rearranged to host the short, informal ceremony, and after Almador left, the guards filed out under the command of Captain Achelus. He gave Weston and Zoltan a knowing glance that seemed to say 'speak later'.

The Seneschal excused himself and shooed the page from the room (leaving the mother-of-pearl), and so only the Baronessa stayed with you.

"Bueno," she said, "It is done. I will leave you to your own devices, as I too have preparations to make.

"Before I go, I must say this. I am glad you came to this town when you did, and I do not think it pure coincidence.

"You should stay together for a while longer, I think, and maybe, just maybe you will find out what fate has in store."

Lady Morgen clearly weighed her own words as she spoke them. It was no glib comment, but voicing aloud a thought she hadn't even realised she'd been gestating.

She gracefully bowed her head, then exited, gathering up her handmaiden at the door.

As promised, you were left alone.

[We're wrapping up here, peeps. So if there are any outstanding PC interactions you want to cover, now's the time.]

Zoltan

As the Baroness leaves the room, he steps outside and follows her. "Pardon me, my dear, but I believe was was promised a dance upon our successful return?"

Seyja


The barbarian woman's expression grew still and cold when she thought about finding out what fate had in mind. Seyja had almost been able to push her concerns about the Orc Lord's obsession with her to the back of her mind by concentrating on their mission.

She felt she had held her own and, although they had lost Heilbutt, the teamwork of the group had kept the rest of their party alive.

Now that the mission was completed, she was not sure she had anything worth looking forward to.

<Weston>

Clearly he needed to work a bit on his 'inside voice' he thought at the Baronessa spoke up. But it seemed as though she accepted the 'advice' in the manner it was intended.

He was happy to see the 'officials' make their departure, noting the Captain's implication of a meeting before they left. And that was sufficient for him at the moment.

D

The dark elf agreed with the Baroness's thought but only time would tell where fate intended the group to go, and what was in store. They of course had ideas, but things didn't always go as planned. For himself he knew that his past would remain a mystery for longer. Answers were not easily wrung from the ghost that haunted him. He was ok with that what other choice did he have?