[Game Thread] Prologue: the Gathering

[Jondera]

It's mid-afternoon, a week or so after the autumn equinox, and the village of Eidsdale is full of the usual bustle. Farmers are in the fields, gathering their crops and preparing for the winter, while in the village proper the daily tasks of village life go on, undisturbed by any unusual goings-on.

On the western side of the village, the small chapel of Erastil is quiet. The doors are open, but there are no villagers visiting the chapel today; Father Leif is expecting visitors - representatives sent by the churches in Svalland. He isn't unaccustomed to hosting travelers on their way to or from the monastery, but this group is more unusual than most, due to the recent lack of contact with the monks and priests who live there.

While the main room of the chapel is as it always is, a large table has been set in a side room with a generous meal, where Leif waits for the adventurers who will be making the trip up the mountain to investigate the monastery.

OOC OK, here we go. This thread is mostly for introductions and introducing the plot and such. Please start out with your arrival in the village, how or when you want to do so.

[The Fool]

"Oh. We have arrived."
Athkar's voice is flat, but then, his voice is always flat. He could be staring into the Infinite Hells of the Abyss and would probably still maintain that placid expression and that tranquil tone of voice. Even his fellow monks regard him as being a little weird because of that. Controlling one's emotions is one thing, but anyone who knows Athkar has probably wondered at some point whether he has emotions at all.

The tall, thin Svallander looks to his traveling companion with pale eyes. The two of them have been walking for some time, and while he shows not trace of fatigue, he's also not the one wearing heavy armor.
"Are you tired?" he asks her, and there is a barely-detectable hint of concern there. "We could stop at the Inn before we head for the chapel, if you like."

[Fragmaster01]

The town gains another inhabitant, with a small bundled up human wandering down the main road. 'Chapel's up there, gate's back here. Onward.' She doesn't bother looking at the people on the sides of the road, only reserving her gaze for those actually wandering about like her. The leather-wrapped hilt of a sword pokes out of the comfort of her cloak, but for the moment, appears to be sleeping quietly in its scabbard(like all swords should at this time of day). Oh look, people loitering around in the middle of the street.

"Scoot. You're blocking the road." Astrid doesn't bother looking back at the other monk and his metal-clad monstrosity after shoving past them. There was Business to attend to, and she didn't have time to entertain the bottom-feeder mercenaries today.

[Ehlana]

"Why most certainly, and thank you for the polite request." Kismet steps out of the way obligingly and with easy grace, despite what everyone seems to consider the heavy burden of her armor. Her accented voice is perfectly polite and she even essays a slight bow, but the chocolate velvet eyes peering out from a slit in her helm reveal tolerant amusement. Stepping back once the rude stranger has passed, Kismet turns the same look with an added warmth up towards her traveling companion. "If we go, will you tuck me in bed for my nap and tell me a story too?" She asks, laughing and then shakes her head. "No, I am not so tired I cannot lift my feet up and down long enough to reach the chapel. But if you are worried enough, you may carry me if you like." She adds teasingly as she starts forward again.

[The Fool]

Athkar takes the rudeness of the stranger in stride, as he usually does for that kind of thing, and simply continues walking as if nothing had happened. To Kismet's teasing, which he's gotten very much used to over the past few months, he simply smiles serenely, though Kismet can tell he's actually laughing inside by the way his clockwork-regular breathing gets momentarily interrupted.
"I fear that would not be possible unless you were to remove your armor," he answers, continuing to walk with her. "So unless you intend to disrobe in the middle of the street...."

[Ehlana]

Kismet smiles up at Athkar, her eyes giving it away despite the fact that her mouth is hidden. "You can't carry my armor and I? I made it of mithral so it would be so light especially so that I could someday be swept off my feet by a great tall northerner someday without the inconvenience of removing my armor." She enjoys seeing those little changes in Athkar's demeanor that indicate he's laughing or happy. It's a challenge and that's what makes it so much fun. "You truly disappoint me, Athkar." Her tone is mock grave as she reaches up to pat his shoulder with metal-clad fingers.

There is relatively little clinking as Kismet moves. The armor is clearly very well-made and perfectly tailored to her shape, a masterwork despite it's lack of ornamentation. "Besides, Athkar, I wear layers under my armor. I can tell you have never worn any, if you think that walking about with metal chafing against your bare skin would be comfortable. The end result of that is blood leaking out of the joints of your armor from the burst blisters."

[The Fool]

His breathing stutters again, and this time the corner of his mouth twitches nearly imperceptibly. "I see...I have not worn armor before, so you are correct. I had always assumed the padding would be built into the armor." Just then, the mule that Athkar has been leading on a string nudges him. He turns to the mule and pets the pack animal's brow, peering at it discerningly, He manifests Empathy via expending Psionic Focus; no PP cost.reading the animal's emotions as best he can. "Hmm...are you hungry, Patience? Yes...I believe he is hungry. We should remember to put out feed for him at the chapel. Do we have an apple in the pack?"

[Ehlana]

Frowning thoughtfully, Kismet unfastens the pack and starts rummaging as they walk. "I do not remember, but I will look." She peers inside, shifting the contents of the pack around. "Can you really tell what Patience is thinking?" She asks in her mock serious tone. "Or do you just know that mules are always ready to eat apples? Or at least, every mule I have ever met has felt that way. The quartermasters in the Imperial Army would tell you that you are spoiling him excessively. They would give you so many harsh looks that you would feel certain that you had, without your noticing, been transformed into a worm." Producing an apple with an air of triumph, she holds it high. "Ah! One left. We will have to buy more or Patience will sulk." Lowering the apple, she waves it under the mule's nose until he crunches into it, showing every evidence of gusto.

[The Fool]

"Not thoughts," he answers, leading the mule so that it walks while it eats. "I can only sense general emotions. Other members of the Order can do much more, but I am not skilled in Telepathy. I only asked for an apple because it is something Patience can eat while walking, really."

[Mal Radagast]

Many former traveling companions have likened Alona's waking state to that of a groggy grizzlybear. She wakes sharply with a deep, wide-eyed breath, before stretching and yawning, snuffling, scratching and so on...often this includes brushing the dirt or hay off of her vest and breeches. She sometimes wanders off, you see, to sprawl on some farm or field and gather her wits. Occasionally...if it's warm enough, and late enough, and she's had enough to drink...she nods off there. In this particular case, under a great old maple tree with a golden flush.

That first deep breath is particularly pleasing today - the crisp autumnal air, carrying the scent of fresh bread and barley...First Brewing! Another breath brings apple-scent, provoking visions of pie and cider! This is, no question, Alona's favorite feastday. Greater even than Merrymead or Archerfeast, for reasons she may expound at length after the first so many rounds. She looks around, smiles, and pats the nestling root of her maple tree. The tree is along the western end of the main road - aways off from the actual bustling of the town. Mostly, this is to account for Erastil's lodge...you never find them right inside a town, always a bit off to themselves. Alona respects that - Cayden's taverns are always in the middle of the fray, while Erastil watches from a distance.

Standing up, shaking herself out a bit, Alona twists and stretches each limb - wanting to feel them separately before she tries to put them together. "Grraaaagh..." Bumping against a knot in her tree, she discovers an itch and spends some time in back-scratching to the sounds of bustle and whatnot...also, she notes, to the voices of those walking west, to the chapel.

Turning around, Alona hops out from behind the maple. She sees a short woman in a cloak stomping off up the way, an even shorter someone being eaten by a suit of mithral, and a thin Svalland man. Too thin - it is a strange look for a man of the north. Also, a donkey. Shrugging, she grins to all four and throws up her hand in greeting. "Tja!"

[The Fool]

Athkar stops, turning to look for the source of the greeting. The monk really looks the part of his profession, with a shaved head and the long robes of an ascetic. Not unusually for a Svallander, but quite unusually for a monk, he is tattooed with Nordic runes running in a vertical line up the center of his perfectly smooth scalp, and he is wearing a thin golden headband that sits just above his brow. His pale blue eyes blink once, watching Alona with a serene expression.
"Good afternoon," he replies politely, his voice a pleasant baritone.

[Mal Radagast]

Nodding, Alona finds a tangle of honey-brown hair in her face again. Crossing her eyes at it, she picks a maple leaf out of the knot before twining it back around her braid. Returning her attention to the thin man, she makes a sort of pfft noise to get a loose strand our of her mouth. "Yes, it is a verrey neyes afternoon," she offers in her own rough contralto. She scratches her head a bit, dislodging a few bits of bark. "I am wondering, have yew seen the morning it gose to?"

[Ehlana]

Kismet turns her silver-helmed head to the newcomer, having to tip it back considerably as well. "Greetings." She adds her salutations to that of her taller companion, her voice as accented as that of Alona's. "It was a thief that stole the morning, I think." Her warm eyes dance. "A thief who's name is Sleep, also known as Slumber in certain districts and on certain wanted posters. You might chase him, if you wished, but he will only steal the afternoon as well, if you do so."

[Mal Radagast]

Alona nods, holding a mock-serious face. "I know this one - a clever thieve, yes." She squints up into the sun with a chuckling sigh, then brushes herself off and claps her hands together. The woman looks almost presentable now, in brown wool and red linen somewhat rumpled, but no longer dusted in dirt and moss. "Ah well, it is my ewn falt - I should not have tayken my eyce off of it. Even a clever thieve cannot tayke from a wotchful woman."

Suddenly glancing about, Alona laughs again as she ducks back behind the tree for her pack...drawing attention to what she had not forgotten behind the tree. Bow and quiver, both settled across her back, look as natural and comfortable as clothing to her. It's possible that she actually slept with them there, though it's difficult to say how. Rummaging now in the pack, she withdraws a fairly distinctive flask - wooden, in a leather sheathe with gold stitching, embroidered with a little golden tankard. She takes a swig, then belts in place at her hip.

"Ah!" She nods along the road to Erastil's lodge. "Yew are heading there, am I ryte? The logal fellowce told me last night how old Leif invyted otherce here than me."

[The Fool]

Athkar bows to Alona, his movements slow and smooth. He meets Alona's eyes, his smile faint and neutral. Only Kismet would know that he's actually slightly amused, the only evidence being a very subtle difference in the set of his eyes and brow.
"We are, MissVi är, Missar,," he says serenely, the Sval language he was born to rolling off his tongue with ease before he switches back to Common for Kismet's benefit. "I am the Speaker of Athkar, and this is Kismet. We have journeyed here from the Monastery of the Still Mind, representing the Followers of Al-Tariqa. And you are?"