Story [Prologue] Witch, Warden, Wayfinder (Inquisition) - RPG Crossing
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Old 11-24-2014, 09:15 AM
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[Prologue] Witch, Warden, Wayfinder (Inquisition)

Witch, Warden, Wayfinder
''I've dispatched two of the best at my disposal, accompanied by a mageling, the Tubourow girl. I must be careful not to tip my hand, and thus, two halfbreeds and a whelp of a mage will serve as our more direct involvement out in the Borderlands. Why do I trust them? Call it instinct. If they fail, no matter - I simply wish to avoid sending a more...overt display of force at such a delicate time. They are a perfect blend of capable, and...well. Let's just say I have the utmost Faith in a positive outcome." ~ Lady Elizabeth Trevelayn, Grandmaster of the Inquisition



The Fifth Day of the Fifth Moon, 283IC
Early Evening, Barrowton Outskirts


The weather is miserable, and no conversation nor hymn of the righteous can ward away its chill, cutting to the very bone.

Not that the three of you haven't had time to adapt to that, however, it seems as though it's rained without pause since the moment you received the missive for this task. While Valeria has had more time to prepare, there's really only so much one can do against the elements, short of magical protection against the cold...and most of the Faithful would rather bear the weather than suffer that indignity. The three of you have had much in the ways of time to get acquainted with one another, the last four days of travel from Sanctum have been long and provided little in the way of respite, and yet it is not as simple as exchanging 'how-do-you-do's' and bonding over one's shared Faith. Instead, the weather has cast a pall over your travel, as well as putting something of a damper upon the mood.

Valeria knows the way well, having made the lone journey on horseback before enough times, though she is becoming more and more 'familiar' with her surroundings as the trio tread further into her element. The Borderlands, or at least the stretch between Harridan's Rise and Sloan itself, fall rather firmly under the half-elf's border jurisdiction as a member of the Greywatch. Barrowton lies a day's travel away from Sloan itself, and as the ranger notes to her companions (whether dourly or optimistically), it is only over the crest of the hill that the small town awaits. Their final waystation before reaching Sloan, it seems, and the twin scars of the Rails can be seen running somewhere to the northwest should the journeyers be keen to spy them through rain and falling darkness.
right-aligned image


The sun is nearly completely set, and while the two halfbreeds have little trouble seeing in the twilight, Alice finds herself a little more troubled in that regard. The horses, too, are less enthusiastic about travels by night. Thus, a decision must be made, whether the trio wish to press on firmly to Sloan through the coming night...or if they'd rather stay here until daybreak comes to free them from the shadows. It is not as easy a decision as it may first appear; for one, the trio have been denied the access to the Iron Rail, in the interest of being more surreptitious in their deployment and to arrive ahead of the mercenary deployment from Redwater. While not explicitly barred from interacting with the populace, it was recommended that the nature of their task be left unknown, lest more nefarious agents of the enemy attempt to intercept the trio.

Whatever their decision, they have just more than an hour to make it, and adjust their plans as necessary. As the Faithful crest the hill, they lay eyes upon the meagre village of Barrowton, and the barrows for which they are named; a quaint chapel of the Faith overlooks a series of burial hills and mounds that stretch for quite a while. At this distance, and at this hour, not many villagefolk can be seen bar the occasional snatches of movement. The markets are closing, the tavern's accepting patrons fresh from a day's labour, and torchlight winks into being like tiny pyres to the Undying Faith. Now, the group must make their choice; stay, or leave? Travel through, or skirt the village entirely? Some respite from the weather might prove amenable, but in truth, they have much to concern themselves with.

Out here, the villagers can grow paranoid, and restless...and foolish.
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~Morrigan, the Witch of Blades

Last edited by Darkling; 11-24-2014 at 09:23 AM.
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Old 11-24-2014, 01:03 PM
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Rain dripped from the mouth of Lukas' dark, dirty red cloak. He looked from deep under its protection and out towards the dimming glow of the small town.

"As much as I hate the rain..." The inquisitor pulled the reins of his horse lightly to calm the beast as he Looking for a good place for a shelter.
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scanned the nearby terrain. "I'd rather surprise in the day than spook at night." The idea of a warm bed out of the wet downpour was very tempting, but he didn't much like the idea of storming into a small village in the black of night with their swords strapped to their backs and torches above their heads. Gave the wrong image.

"Best find a spot for a fire. Tired of these soggy boots."

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Old 11-26-2014, 03:39 PM
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Dame Valeria had pulled up at the top of the rise, but waited until one of her companions spoke before offering her comments. She was warm enough in her usual traveling outfit; thicker clothes that stood up to the elements and a generously cut, waterproofed, fur-lined long coat, much like a hooded cloak albeit with sleeves and toggles that kept the garment from deserting her while she rode. Even so, she dripped just as much as the others. The half-elf looked more concerned with her horse--a dainty mare she called Amalie--as the little mare had been hard pressed to reach the meeting point with the two from Sanctum and had not had much of a break since. Her gloved hands idly stroked the mare's crest as she considered the town ahead. "There is a layman who will shelter us if you wish to enter the town. Visitors at the inn will raise questions, though they've seen me before. I'm always alone." She didn't really want to leave the option of the inn open, not with this mixed group. The fewer eyes on them the better. Valeria didn't like to question the Grandmaster, but she really wondered what had entered the woman's head sending a half-elf, a half-orc, and a witch to the Borderlands together.

She looked down at the way her horse stood, head drooping, and knew she couldn't really press onward, even if she wanted to. Or she'd have to enter town to get a horse loaned to her for a day or so, and she wasn't too keen on that prospect either. Valeria wasn't too concerned that they would want to ride overnight, not in this weather with a human whose vision was limited. The others knew by now that she camped in all weather, her double-walled tent protecting her from all but the worst the elements could throw at her, so she was happy to let them decide what their evening was going to be. It would not phase the Knight-Inquisitor who lived in these climes year-round. "I've camped on the other side of Barrowton before," she offered after a moment to be sure her offer of a place to stay in town wasn't of interest. "I can show you the spot, we'll have to press on around the town."

OOCHurray! Looking forward to this game. For the record (since they've been camping along the way), Valeria is well equipped with camping gear, since that's normal for her. Cooking gear, tinderbox, one-person tent, and a large (4 sq yd) waterproofed canvas that makes a partial shelter for her mare in nasty weather. I don't know if you have extra money for that sort of gear or not, but it might be a distinct difference between how you two packed and how Valeria lives.
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Old 11-27-2014, 11:01 AM
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A light puff of steam rose from his flared nostrils as Lukas grunted. "If we had to go around, might as well just stay in town." Its not like he was trotting around looking for a spot to go on holiday. He was simply worried about the horses' footing in the mud. "Lead on, hunter."

The inquisitor held back slightly in order to ride next to his charge. "How're you holding up?" Lukas had been on a few excursions in the past, ones just as poorly weathered as this, but he imagined the woman hadn't much experience with the As opposed to the kind you project via spells.true elements during her keeping at the Arcanum. "Looks like we're movin' on to the town. Let me know if you need a torch."
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Old 11-29-2014, 08:15 PM
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The weather had been miserable and Alice was certain outside of bathing she'd never been this soaked through. Her provisions were safely tucked away in her bags, but the mage had overlooked the idea that it could rain enough for the water to start soaking through the cloak she wore. As the light had begun fading, Alice trailed behind a bit more, watching the others for ques as to what was ahead. It didn't bother her too much that she was at a disadvantage compared to her companions, though there was a lingering thought about holding them back. She ran a gentle hand along her mount's flank, murmuring a few calming words into the wind. Xivi at least didn't seem overly bothered, but Alice could never be too certain with the owl's moods. The witch let out a soft whistle to call out to the owl to start making his return to the group as the others discussed their route. Alice wasn't particularly too opinionated on where they spent the night, though a dry place would be most preferred. Traveling was a new marvel to her, though the shine had worn off after the first two days without a comfortable bed to retire to.

Alice smiled as Lukas dropped back to check in on her. It was a nice feeling, the companionship, that the company had been building up together. She had missed the comfort of close companions since the orphanage. "Surviving," She replied, offering a wry smile through the bangs of her damp hair. "If I'd known I was to swim to our destination I would have dressed far more appropriately." At her proclamation she lifted her hands a little to show the cloak that was soaked through already at several points. "My only request is we find somewhere dry, I can make lights if it gets too dark that won't be put out by rain."

OOCSorry again about the delay, been working nights and trying to make sure my medical assessments are up to par, field training going well though! Hopefully done soon and can pay more attention to other things.
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Old 11-29-2014, 08:45 PM
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At Alice's mention of her "making lights" Lukas shook his head. "Don't think the villagers would be much impressed." He'd seen the wisps that the young mages could conjure to chase around the yards of the Arcanum. They didn't need any heralds ushering them forth, marking them for who they were, whether floating light nor glowing stones.

From his saddlebag the half-roc drew a torch and held the pitch nearly in his hand and closed his eyes. His voice dropped to barely a murmur, barely audiable over the crashing rain. The prayer was private, one that even its recipient wouldn't be able to hear. "Bless us with your Light, that we may pierce this Shadow." There was a spark and the torch drew flame. He held the blessing over to his companion, insisting she take it.

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Old 11-30-2014, 02:54 PM
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Valeria's head turned when there were flickers of red light dancing across her horse's mane to tell her a torch had been lit. Seeing no flint nor steel in evidence, she reined in Amalie and waited for the other two to approach her so she could speak easily over the noise of the rain. "Please try to use as mundane means as you can for everything here. Within a short walk from any town on the Borderlands, definitely. These folk have very simple lives, and while they will accept seeing Inquisitors and marked Mages, seeing us and seeing our power are two very different things. I use flint and steel like the next man when I'm near a town." This warning given, she glanced at both her wet companions in hopes of seeing some kind of understanding in their eyes, but it was getting hard to see anything but wet and tired in their bearing, and she knew she probably looked no different. Village and dry beds it was. "Our host will likely be more open to blessings, but he's young and new to his position, so I'd advise caution with him as well."

Giving each of them a nod, the Knight-Inquisitor turned her mare back toward the town and led onward. She wasn't sure which of them had lit the torch, but that spell wasn't taught by the Inquisition, so probably the witch. But then, who am I to say spells are only learned back in Sanctum? She shook her head, silently laughing at herself. She'd learned far more out here in the wilds than she had back when first tapped to join the ranks of Inquisitors. But she sobered quickly when she realized she was now riding with a member of the Redwatch. Were all of her spells acceptable in the eyes of the Redwatch? That one Garrick had taught her was unlike any others she knew, and he had seemed hesitant to use it where anyone else would see it. Maybe she wouldn't use that one near Lukas or Alice until she was more familiar with them.

There was always a sense of steeling herself when she rode into a town, back into the society with rules and restrictions. Valeria didn't think of it quite like that, of course, she considered it her moment to center herself so she was worth presenting to the good citizens of Sanctum's towns and villages. But whether she admitted she disliked urban areas or not, there was a hiccup in her heartbeat whenever she approached, as she did now. Walking Amalie into the glow of the town's sputtering torches and windows of candlelight, Valeria observed those still out on the streets without turning her head, aiming her head as if she was hunched over and watching only her horse's ears. It was an unconscious move on her part, she was always watching people whenever she was in a town. It was made easier this night due to the rain, as there were few enough villagers out on the streets now. None of them were likely to greet her, so she just rode on past, leading the other two toward Layman Petre's house.

She dismounted into a puddle, the additional wet hardly registering, and moved up to the door. Valeria knocked twice before realizing he might not open the door if he could not see his guest, so she pushed back the hood of her cloak, ducking under the eaves of the house so she would not get too wet to recognize. If he can't offer enough room for all three of us, I'll go camp. I'm not eager to deal with the inn on a night like this. Still holding Amalie's reins, she blinked as an idea came to her. Did he even have a stable to get the horses out of the rain? She might have to chance the stable at the inn, then, regardless of where she stayed.
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Old 12-01-2014, 01:42 PM
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Lukas smirked at Valeria's comment, knowing their point was directed at him, and looked over to Alice. "Our guide agrees. Torches are safer."

As they rode into town Lukas ensured that his arms and his right arm were covered by his cloak and pulled his horse in behind Alice's. If there was going to be trouble, he wanted to see it and be able to react as soon as possible. He didn't like small towns. Superstitious tale weavers could change a reality more than any witch, and truth was often smothered in their lies. Even still, Lukas gave any passersby a curt nod as they went through the rainy streets. Just travelers. Or hopefully that was all they had to be. There was nothing worse than an unexpected complication.

The inquisitor thought to ask about this contact, but before long they were at the foot of the estate.

He'd know soon enough.

With a careful dismount Lukas' boots splashed into the puddles of the street and stood-by, holding out a rough, gentlemanly hand out to Alice should she need any help.
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Old 12-02-2014, 03:39 AM
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Alice returned Lukas's smirk with a glare of mock anger. Pouting to herself she accepted the torch, keenly aware of how her markings showed in the light it offered. "I'll keep your words in mind, but I will promise nothing. I was taught to use my magic in almost all I do." It's not like she could help it much, Alice learned to use her magic since stepping foot into the Arcanum and it was almost reflex to reach for spells as one would mundane tools.

She held the torch aloft with one hand and tugged at her cloak's hood, a vain hope to block the light but it might keep others from immediately noticing. She followed behind their guide, paying more attention the steady drumming of their horse's hooves and the steady hiss as rain hit her torch. Her hood and rain matted hair served to disguise the majority of her witch's markings, Xivi taking heed to keep above them by the roofs. If Valeria was wary of a demonstration of exactly what she was, perhaps it would be best for now to keep inline.

At their destination, her horse trotted to a stop by Lukas, unintentionally creating a small gap between the bonded duo and their companion, and she accepted his offered hand. Even with the half-orc to steady her, Alice stumbled a step as she dismounted. Her hand tightened on his, grasping for purchase to steady herself. "Not a word." she mumbled, embarrassment creeping into her voice. Get her on a horse and she was fine, it was the getting on and off part that Alice had yet to master.
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Old 12-04-2014, 11:34 PM
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Barrowton
Arguments over cantrips and illumination aside, the trio slowly proceed into Barrowton itself, a certain wariness about them as befits their respective professions. For Valeria, it is a familiar caution, like walking a dangerous mountainpath that one has trekked many times over. For the Greywatch, and especially for one of her breed, the further you tread from Sanctum means the dimmer the light of the Faith is - the shadows deepen in the hearts of angry and paranoid folk. For Alice and Lukas, however, it is a different manner of tension - a Witch and Warden travelling through a supposedly sleepy village could dredge up sentiments not worth thinking on for too long. It is not violence they should fear, indeed, it is more the notion that they could sow unrest when they mean to uproot it. As they press into the broad streets of Barrowton, they note the gutters are overflowing, and rivers of mud and water surge in turbulent paths on either side of the filthy cobblestones.

Swimming was certainly not on the agenda, as Alice had wryly noted, but the village was slowly starting to resemble a lake rather than a settlement.

The glow of light behind windows stands out in the shadows, figures shifting in front of them now and then, though the three cannot be sure of their intent. Some seem to be merely busying themselves within their homes, and yet others linger in the frames, maybe watching the Faithful as they wind through the rainslick street. It can be troubling to know one is watched without knowing the watcher, afterall, but all such spectators must be barely tertiary in comparison to the careful gaze of both the Church and the Faith itself. Valeria knows her path, and as the two others follow, it is not long before the Chapel creeps into view over sight of some buildings. While Alice has trouble spying it, she can at least make out its shape, if not necessarily its architecture. A worn and yet modern looking structure, bearing true Imperial architecture of strong and imposing lines and shapes, standing out in stark contrast to the more rustic homes and hovels that surround them.

The stable is relatively easy to find, mercifully sheltered from the horrid weather, and the three soon take refuge beneath its heavily thatched roof. While they can spy a few errant leaks within, it seems the stables are of fine make if they've weathered the storm so well, and likely fares far better than the more patchwork creations of the locals. Lacking a stablehand, the group still sees there are plenty of stalls free, even if some are occupied by gently whinnying steeds growing restless in their time away from the outdoors. The three are free to dismount, dress down their horses, and stable them appropriately. While the thought of having to brave the storm again is a troubling one, Valeria knows there is a set of stairs leading up to the church's flank from a door in the back of the stables, one relatively guarded from the weather.

While half-true, the steps themselves seem damp from droplets of rain blown under the rudimentary weathershield, and thus care must be taken - they're not slick, but the pace must be slow. An annoyance, perhaps, for those who simply wish to get out of the rain. Nevertheless, it is not too long after that they reach the heavy side-door of the chapel, where one would ordinarily expect to knock. Instead, however, the wooden door appears to be slightly ajar and held open against the occasional gust of wind by a small weighted doorstop wedged under the frame. Entering the room whenever they decide to truly escape the inclemency of the storm, the innards of the building are found to be at least passably warm, though the small room they stand in seems to be more of a cloakroom than anything else. The rain has only barely infiltrated through the door, and thus the group lay eyes on the driest room they've seen in days, a great mercy.

A cloakrack rests nearby, and upon it rests a few garments, some stitched in the fabric and manner of a member of the Faith. One, however, appears to have been in recent use - droplets of water still drip from the heavy yet rather expensive looking garment dyed in purple hues. Nearby, a door leads to a stairwell, one that Valeria knows leads to the Layman's office and chambers, from which voices can be heard to drift down the winding staircase. Angered voices, clearly in some form of fervent dispute, though the nature of the muffling and echo makes it nearly impossible to hear what's being said without ascending some of the way up the steps.

It appears that Layman Petre is entertaining more than three guests this late evening.
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~Morrigan, the Witch of Blades

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Old 12-05-2014, 02:24 PM
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After all she had asked of her mare in the last days, Valeria was happy to stable Amalie and spend the time necessary to curry her and make sure she had everything she could possibly want. The mare needed the rest, and indeed looked half-asleep before the half-elven Inquisitor was finished. The nosebag would be no worse for waiting until the mare awoke, so Valeria loosely strapped it to her friend's head. Regardless of the other two, Valeria did not rush her care of the horse; it would go ill for her if her mare took ill or couldn't continue onward. She also went through her saddlebags and backpack, shifting things about until she held only a small sack of basic items to tide her over until the morning. Though she couldn't change her clothes before meeting Petre, she would feel better having her more strict-looking gray and black clothes available so she looked more like her official Greywatch Knight-Inquisitor self once she had a chance to remove her wet things. It was a look that the two traveling with her had not yet seen, as she stuck to more hardy garments of dark leather and heavy wool or linen while about in the wilds.

On the stairs up to the church, she held her hood forward with one hand so the wind wouldn't blow raindrops into her face as she carefully navigated the slick steps. Her general paranoia made her hesitate when she saw the church door propped open; though the doors were rarely locked, the prop meant something was going on, and she didn't truly want to be involved in anything but a bed right now. But as choices were limited, she entered, pleased to find an empty cloakroom. One thing at a time, she prayed, removing the bow and quiver slung over one shoulder and setting it on the floor beneath an empty hook. Rolling her head around on her neck, she undid the wet wooden toggles on her coat and removed the garment, revealing a good quality shirt and her mithril chain shirt, both of which had survived the journey without getting wet, unlike her leather breeches. She hung the fur-linked wool coat on the rack and looked herself over, brushing some remaining wet from the thick leather of her breeches and boots, her gloves a lost cause. Valeria removed the longsword from her belt, peacebound it, and placed it next to her longbow.

Voices from Petre's office. She didn't want to think about it, but this was her call, to come here, and it was her duty to guide her traveling companions well, which meant braving Petre's visitors to find out what was going on. Sighing, she looked down at her sack and debated. It would go better if she looked more official and less bedraggled. From her bag she removed a black woolen waistcoat and donned that over her mithril, unpinning her silver sunburst Inquisitorial badge from her shirt and placing it on the fitted waistcoat instead, over her heart. Next she removed a belt of black leather and slung it and its attached pouches across her body, the satchel hitting her hip with a comforting thud. There was a tiny leather tie to secure it to her belt against movements that otherwise might sling the weight around and unbalance her. A grey cloak appeared out of her sack next, nearly emptying the bag of its contents. It was not the same look she might have attempted if she had the privacy to change clothing, but perhaps the glint of mithril and rain-soaked leather instead of grey wool would lend her the proper aura of the tired Inquisitor mid-travel. "I will go see what is amiss. None will object if you remain in the chapel," she suggested, trying to imply that certain people would probably object to a witch and warden inserting themselves into a local problem, far more so than they might object to their local Greywatch Inquisitor. Offering a tired smile to each, she turned to the stairs and began ascending slowly. A few steps upward, she knocked on the wall, loud enough to bounce up the winding stair and inform those above that she was approaching. She raised her voice. "Layman? It is Knight-Inquisitor Bonham. May I impose upon you?"

OOCIf that purple cloak is the mayor's, we're probably going to get into drama here. Not that arguments aren't already drama, but more drama. Sorry for the long post, I didn't really know how to shorten it.
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Old 12-05-2014, 04:08 PM
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Honestly, Lukas never really knew what to do with a horse. He was, more often than not, a passenger, either by wagon or train. And while both such things required maintenance, the idea never transitioned well to beasts. He did his best to mimic Valeria's actions, like he'd done in days past. The inquisitor thought that the creature knew of his unease and novice skills and did its best to help. Lukas appreciated that and scratched his bare fingers along the top of the mare's head as if it were a dog.

Collecting the things he'd need for the night, Lukas trailed behind as they ascended the soggy steps. The ever watchful eye, distracted only by the lines of the structure stretching up into the fall dark.

He was glad to be inside, mildewing coatroom or not. Unclasping his red cloak the inquisitor set it upon an unused hook. What it revealed was a man in a tarnished breastplate stuffed with heavy wool. One arm was covered in addition plates which he began to unbuckle while the other was a simple, wet sleeve of linen. His ear caught the sound of bags and rustling clothes and sought to take particular interest in the grain and lacquer of his bow to insure it survived the weather.

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Originally Posted by Valeria
"I will go see what is amiss. None will object if you remain in the chapel."
Lukas looked over his shoulder and smirked. "Didn't think they had protocol in the borderlands." He turned around and sat down on a small bench and began working on his boots. "Don't feel insulted that I'm listening in, though." It wasn't as if he didn't trust the woman, but he certainly didn't trust any situation where someone thought to put on their colors. Other than his cloak, the inquisitor hadn't even thought to bring any. Training dictated as little pomp as possible when traveling, especially through the country.

After the ranger left Lukas overturned his boot, releasing the withheld moisture, and looked up to Alice. "Next time someone tells us to Profanity!blotchin' march half-way through the lands, we tell them we're taking the train."

Last edited by robotbear; 12-05-2014 at 04:18 PM.
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  #13  
Old 12-10-2014, 07:27 AM
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The Chapel
The cloakroom is cosy enough, even as it is exposed with the heavy door slightly ajar, it is a respite from the heavy winds and rain with only a few droplets of rain making their way through the gap between the door and frame. As Inquisitor Bonham takes it upon herself to act as the forward guard for the entirety of the group, Lukas and Alice apparently agree to remain behind. The half-elf has to open the door to the stairwell, heavy in and of itself, causing a gust of air to flow in from behind her and billow about her garments as it snakes up the winding staircase. The torches gutter, threatened by the wind, causing the shadows to dance wildly. The arguing above, however, ceases to abate...the pair of voices are well entrenched in their verbal battle.

They carry far more clearly, now, and none of the three have any difficulty hearing what's being said now even over the din of the storm that rages outside.
"...matter of principle!" A haughty voice intones, words intoned in a manner of privilege, as if the man in question is used to people doing exactly as he's told them to. There is a brief hesitation, then, before a far softer and much meeker voice replies in near exasperation.
"I am no Blackwatch, my lord, I am a priest. Not even! A layman! It is well beyond my skill to take care of such a threat! What would you have me do, hurl wafers and recite a hymn?" The young man, despite his irreverence, sounds truly at his wit's end with the nature of this argument.

It is then that Bonham reaches the middle landing of the stairs, however, delivering her polite (all things considered) knock and calling out her name. There is a brief shuffle, the grind of a chair, and a familiar face peers over the railing a short way up.
"My, my! The Faith certainly does respond quickly, even in such dire times!" The young man cries out, a wave of relief washing over him, a broad smile on his face.

Layman Petre
The budding priest is barely past his nineteenth year, though given that he took his post originally at the youthful age of sixteen, Valeria knows he's grown much in a short time. The hard look to his eyes gives him a certain measure of maturity, that is certain, something that likely helps his case in seeming a respectable holyman to the people to Barrowton.
"Please, come in! I would always welcome company. Well, most company." Layman Petre adds the last bit more subtly, and while his words carry no barbs, the flick of his eyes - almost an eyeroll really - indicates that he is none-too-pleased about the guest that Valeria will be joining.

Of course, when the halfbreed ascends the last of the steps and enters the warm and immeasurably tidy room of the young priest, she lays her eyes upon someone she is likely not too enthusiastic to see either.
"Dame Bonham!" The nobleman practically shouts, standing to his feet rather suddenly, a dashing smile gracing his face -
Mayor Elbert Tessler
Mayor Elbert Tessler. A handsome man, no doubt, but with a smile that could freeze a flame. Despite being a few years senior to Petre, he seems young and privileged, much as Valeria remembers from the last time she met him. Within the room itself, Valeria immediately takes note of a few things, the trained eyes of an Inquisitor missing little.

A map, on the table, of Barrowton - marks scribbled here and there. Planning. A bookshelf, rifled through, books askew on all sorts. The titles? Bestiaries, mostly, and rites for the dead. Troubling. There are two other doors leading from the small study, one leads to what Valeria presumes is the bedroom, while the other leads down to the chapel itself. The last detail, however, is
Pam
the half-elven woman who stands silently in the corner with her hands folded and her eyes stuck firmly to the floor of Petre's office. Bonham recognises her as 'Pam', one of Mister Tessler's many half-elven servants, all indentured into a servitude not unlike slavery. It is an unfortunately oft-repeated fate for many halfbreeds, as Valeria herself is keenly aware, and Pam has always been one of the saddest she's seen.

"What a pleasure to see you!" The Mayor continues, extending a hand, practically seizing Valeria's in his own as he shakes it fervently as though they're old friends. His eyes travel up and down her, head to toe, as if he's assessing a piece of cattle for sale - he does that with everyone as far as Bonham knows.
"I must say, when Petre said he sent for an expert, I assumed we'd be getting some whelp barely weaned off his mother's teat! A fully-fledged Inquisitor, now that's the sort of results I expect Barrowton's clout to receive, eh Layman?" Tessler glances back at Petre, who can only nod, looking happy to have the viper's attention off himself.

"Yes, well, of course. In truth, I'd barely expected the message to have arrived just yet, I'd paid extra to have it run at express but with all the rain..." Petre trails off, giving a weak shrug, another smile gracing the Layman's lips as he regards Valeria fondly.
"Oh, Valeria, you remember...Gam, was it?" He asks sharply of his attendant, who raises her head enough that Valeria can spy her face, wild and wide eyes with a shocked expression - she seems caught off guard in even being addressed. The woman opens her mouth, as if to correct her master, then seems to think better of it and nod furiously.
"Say hello to the Knight-Inquisitor." He demands of her, coldly, and the woman stammers as she tries to answer his request.

"H-hello, m-most...esteemed...Dame Bonham." Pam finally ekes out, giving Valeria a practiced curtsy, a strand of hair falling over her face as she does so. A mistake she hurries to correct, brushing it back over one of her pointed ears, though she waits until Valeria gives her a greeting before she slinks back to her spot to stare at the floor.
"Well, good, we're all reacquainted. I must admit, Bonham, I'd expected more for such a threat. I suppose the Inquisition's spread thinly though, like the last store of butter in the Low Quarter, eh? You sure you can handle this yourself? You're...Greywatch, aren't you?" Mayor Tessler drones on, and despite his apparent admiration for Valeria and his thankfulness that she's arrived for reasons she doesn't understand, it seems it doesn't take long before he's doubting her abilities in tackling a threat she's yet to be informed of.

OOCMy apologies for there not being much for Alice and Lukas to respond to, but here's a good chance to Valeria to invite them up, once clearing it with Petre! Assume that the other two can hear everything pretty clearly, so long as the door to the stairs remains open, and there's nothing stopping either Lukas or Alice from simply heading upstairs if the whim takes them.

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Last edited by Darkling; 12-10-2014 at 08:01 AM.
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Old 12-13-2014, 01:41 AM
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Alice found a spot for the torch before she ran through the motions she'd be hastily taught, generalized care for her steed haven been roughly taught and slowly fixed as the days had gone by. The flickering light was hardly the best to work by, but it seemed her mount didn't care much for anything but rest at this point. Alice patted the horse on its side and whispered a few words of thanks before moving on to collect her things, making sure to palm the small heatstone in case she desired it later.

Fighting a small urge to sigh, Alice followed the rest of the group through the rain to the chapel proper, grimacing at each little squelch her boots made as they crossed into the church.

"I will go see what is amiss. None will object if you remain in the chapel."

Alice nodded her head in acceptance, stripping off her outer cloak to place by the others. It left her in a modest robe of a deep earthen brown with no real adornments to make it fancy. It was a preference of her own to keep her wardrobe mild, most people tended not to pay too much attention that way. Her fingers worked through her hair, gently untangling soaked locks as she wrung the excess water from her hair.

"Agreed." she muttered in reply to Luca's comment. "Could at least have given us better provisions for the weather."
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Old 12-14-2014, 01:35 PM
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Valeria recognized both voices half a moment before the word 'Blackwatch' registered, and she was immediately concerned. Regardless of whatever the mayor wanted (for which she honestly cared little), if Petre thought a Blackwatch Inquisitor was the appropriate solution to the request, there was definitely a problem to be found here, rather than a quiet evening's rest. She sighed even as she pasted on a smile of greeting for Petre, a smile that faded as she entered the room to find the man she was anticipating. His rush of a greeting she tolerated only barely, tired as she was. When he directed Pam to greet her, Valeria was only too happy to remove her hand from the mayor's grip and nod to the woman, giving her as much of a smile as she could manage while in such close proximity to the mayor. "Hello again, Pam," she replied, making sure to use the woman's name, even if the mayor would never notice the correction.

When the man kept on going, she held up her hands. "My lord mayor, please. I was not sent here to aid you, though I will do what I can. If your message has been received, I am not its answer. Indeed, with the times as they are, you are not likely to get a response for some time. The Inquisition has been forced to hire mercenaries to attend to all the problems arising, I know not whether they have someone to spare for you." That was the politest she could manage. Barrowton was a small town, and insignificant compared to the border towns. She would attack his detrimental comments about her abilities in a moment, as she could not let such insults to the Inquisition stand unchallenged.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to Petre, bluntly changing topics. "I was hoping to impose upon you for a bed, for myself and my two traveling companions, we have ridden hard the last few days. I travel with a Redwatch Inquisitor and his charge of the Ordo Arcana; I will have to ask them if they are willing to delay our mission to aid you here. The Grandmaster will be none too pleased if we are late, but I am not one to ignore a threat." She set her hands on her hips, allowing her weariness to show and giving the two men time to recognize the armor-clad warrior image that she hoped she presented, instead of the formal garments (like those of a judge or advocate in court) they had seen her in before. Invoking the Grandmaster might also remind the mayor that she answered to higher powers than he, but she didn't think it likely, the man was too full of himself. "Perhaps if you were to offer me a chair and tell me what this trouble is, I could better tell you what I and my companions might be able to do for you. They rest downstairs," she added, nodding at the stairs from which she'd come. "I do not know how they will react to a request for aid instead of the beds we all hoped for. But if you call them up, perhaps with the promise of something hot to drink, I expect they will hear you out peaceably enough."
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