Reclamation

[Blackrabite]

Gloira Leonson's heavy plate boots thumped loudly on the wooden docks of Cear as she stepped from the gangplank of the ship; heavier footfalls followed her down as her Guard Captain caught her up on the landing. Baliska wouldn't be pleased that her charge had gone down ahead of her, she took her guard duty too seriously at times. Gloira suppressed a grimace at the thought, she would hear about it later, for now she was simply glad to be back on land; sea travel did not sit well with her or her stomach. She stopped to wait and began the process of removing her heavy plate gauntlets. She felt silly wearing the plate to travel, in truth she had donned it that morning in anticipation of their arrival. The armor had been her symbol of authority while on the field and none of the clothing brought with her gave her that same level of confidence. She wanted their arrival in Cear to go off without a hitch, therefore she needed all the confidence and authority she could muster.

Gloira took in the sights of Cearean docks with no little amount of displeasure, it had been weeks, if not months, since her last visit to Cear but she had hoped it would be longer. Fighting for the empire on the front lines had given her some prestige, glory, a good bit of gold and a lot of insight into the workings of the imperial order. She had hoped that proving herself on the battlefield would give her some influence in the Empire but it seemed that a mercenary warlord would always be just that, a mercenary. Gloira's only hope at wielding some real power would be to work on both battlefields, the martial one and the political one. She had already done some small work in spreading her name but much more would have to be done before any real changes would come. Her power had grown considerably since her last visit here and with the new wealth gained from conquest it was time to expand her efforts in the political scene. She had always rejected the idea that she would one day be playing the nobles game and did not find the idea more pleasing now. Gloira diverted her thinking away from that line and lifted her chin. The Lady Leonson would be a force to reckon with, other nobles were enemies to crush or subjugate, that is something she could deal with, a game she was meant to play.

"Baliska," Gloira said with a note of authority, "find the men we recruited on our last visit and see to securing our assets at the Inn. I am going to see about a proper bath and a meal for ourselves and the men."

Porters came down the gangplank of the ship carrying their things, mostly trunks and crates containing spoils from the battlefield. Gloira unlimbered her shield, adding both it and her morning star to the burdens of one unfortunate porter.

"Once our things are secure then you may see about the tasks we talked about during our journey." Gloira said, turning to face Baliska as she let her bright amber hair down, her helm joining the bundles coming from the ship. "Find me when you have an idea how it may be carried out, I will be in the trades district..." Gloira's mouth twisted in mild distaste, "buying a dress. Once I am properly clothed we shall see about reclaiming my title and finding a proper residence in the city."

Gloira resumed walking into the city proper, her shining hair a stark contrast to the dark burnished plate she still wore. She would best this city as she had bested her foes in combat. When she was finished with the vacuous nobility of Cear they would either be on their knees praising her might, or on their backs breathing their last.

[DM Phoenix]

(( An excellent first post. Welcome! ))

[LordVare]

((To avoid confusion and to keep continuity between scenarios this occurs a good deal of time after the "Seeking a Path" thread. Due to the public setting (the commons room of the Mistyvale), anyone who is in town and wishes to join in is welcome to do so. Any and all the members of the Sterling Guard are especially encouraged to post.))



On most evenings the persistent downpour would not have bothered Baliska quite so much as is was on this particular night. She was rather fond of rain on a whole, more than many she imagined, but this evening it was proving to be more than a minor nuisance. The oiled cloak she had purchased earlier as proof from the elements had been defeated with startling quickness by the incessant sheets of rain that had fallen since the sun had sunk below the horizon. She only hoped that it had managed in some small way at least to keep the delicate parcel she had purchased only a few minutes ago mostly dry.

After completing a few of the other minor tasks both she and the Lady Leonson had decided held too much precedence to be delayed upon entering the city, she had purchased a kit of writing supplies. The soft well made sheets of paper, good powdered ink and quills along with the other common tools of writing had cost almost twice what she expected. Fortunately she and Gloira had plenty of money on hand for the moment and more was to come as soon as they managed to get the Lady set up properly as her place among the nobility denoted she should be. Beyond which, the ability to send missives to contact the various solicitors, merchants, and other nobles along with setting up appointments via lettered courier was an unquestionable necessity . She could only hope at this point that the bundle survived the rain well enough to be of use.

Walking under the arch and past the sign that let her know she was leaving the Trades and Commons district she only just caught herself from slipping as she passed into the commons north of the city. Maintaining her balance she grimaced, looking down to see that both of her feet were planted nearly to her ankles in mud. The road here was well traveled upon and less cobbled than that which she had been walking and the sudden transition had caught her quite by surprise.

Sloshing though the mud she covered the rest of the distance to the Mistyvale Inn, grumbling to herself at the state her boots would be in after this and how she was going to simply delight in cleaning the layers of mud from them. Reaching her destination Baliska gave a sigh as she opened the door to the Mistyvale and did her best to shake at least some of the small garden's worth of mud she had collected from her boots before entering the establishment. As she moved into the room she threw back her hood and unclasped the "rain proof" cloak from around her. Shifting the package in her grip she hung the dripping cloth from a peg near the door and shuffled into the main room of the inn.

The interior of the room was well..cozy..she supposed was the best word for it. A warm fire burned in a large hearth on the far side of the room which combined with numerous candles cast dancing light and shadows in all directions around the room. More importantly though the bustle of patrons seated at some of the tables around the room enjoying a meal and sharing tales over mugs of ale gave the place a familiar feel for someone like herself who had spent time on the road as an adventurer. Though places like this held their own kind of danger, they also remained some of the safest places in any town. Aside from where a local militia might be stationed or the barracks of the cities who could afford a guard force, an inn full of armed and field trained adventurers was as safe a place as one could find generally.

It took only a moment to locate the table at which Gloira sat eating along with a pair of guards in uniforms much like the one Baliska now wore, the gleaming polished mithril armor of the recently formed Sterling Guard. She crossed the room towards the group giving a word of greeting those at the table as she set down the wrapped package she had carried in from the rain. Removing her plated gauntlets she tossed them beside the package and with a careful eye she picked one of the more sturdy looking stools. She settled herself down on it as she spoke up, "My Lady, the tasks were tended to, and I need to send a few letters but I believe you will have at least two meetings tomorrow. As well, I have an idea for a recruitment draft that I wish to draw up."

Producing a knife from her belt she cut the twine around the package and opened the lightly waxed paper wrapped around the bundle pulling it free. She then set both the paper and the knife beside her gauntlets and took a moment to inspect the kit. It was pleasing to see that the paper within had been spared from the rain, the outer sheets only being slightly damp. She noted that the writing utensils had also managed to stay relatively dry and functional then began to deftly separate the contents all out in front of her as she continued speaking, "I will write up the draft and then let you have a glance at it. I brought sealing wax so that you can add your seal and name to it as well once I am done."

The one place she had saved a few coins in purchasing the writing materials was on the quills that had been purchased with the kit, they were pre-tipped and tempered. Of course no individual who used a pen for any major part of their profession or even hobby would most likely risk using another author's handy work in this area, but for Baliska the saved time and money made it worth the small inconvenience. She uncorked the ink well and added a bit of purified water from a small flask which had been included for the purpose of mixing the high quality ink and let some of it pour into the powder. This mixture she stirred with the nib of the quill, adding more water as needed until the ink was the proper thickness for use.

Thumbing a few pages deep into the sheaf she had bought, she found a sheet which was thoroughly dry and lifted it from the rest setting it squarely in front of her. Dipping the quill she began to write upon the paper, copperplate letters flowing from the end of the nib as her large hands skillfully and carefully penned the document she had been considering for the past few hours. It had been weeks since she had penned anything and her first few letters were a bit splotched as she had to force herself to be gentle with the pressure against the paper. A few words into the writing though the penmanship improved notably and from there it was only a matter of time before she finished the last sentence.

Reading over the finished work she was relatively pleased, not only had she managed to keep from making any glaring mistakes, she had also not broken the nib from the tip of the quill in her writing. Setting the quill back into the ink well she blew gently across the page to help the ink start to set and dry. Once she was reasonably sure it would not drip she just as carefully slid the page across the table for inspection by Gloira.

As the Lady read the notice Baliska produced a small candle from the writing kit, alongside a bar of special deep red wax. The candle she held up and parting her scaled lips she blew out a very small and controlled jet of dragon fire, lighting the little candle's wick. Holding the lit candle and the wax out to Gloira for sealing if she wished to do so she murmured softly, "With any luck, we may get one or two helpful replies out of it."

[Blackrabite]

Gloira speared another chunk of roast pig on the end of her belt knife and chewed on it while she quickly scanned the paper Baliska had slid toward her. Juice from the meat ran down her chin leaving a greasy sheen that glistened in the lantern-light of the Inn. She normally would have tried to avoid such a display but she had been seized by a fit of pique after being measured for size at the dress shop. She had been drinking ale somewhat recklessly and eaten nothing but the meat since she sat down with her guard at the Inn's table. Being fitted for a dress had gripped her with a fear like she had never felt on the battlefield, each stroke of the of the quill noting down her measurements had been like a nail pounded into her coffin. It was all silly of course but she drank the rest of her mug in a few long swallows anyway, the alcohol helping her fight off the quivers of fear that still managed work their way up her spine.

"This is fine," She said to Baliska absently, she had barely read a word on the document as preoccupied as she was with her thoughts and her meal. "You may seal the documents in my stead, I need to see to a bath."

Gloira stabbed her knife into the tabletop, an uneaten chunk of pork still on the blade, and reached into her side pouch. Searching through the few coins she kept on her person she found the object she was looking for, a signet ring. It wasn't the large signet ring her father had worn, he had taken that one with him. It was a smaller silver signet ring that her mother had kept after the house fell following her fathers disappearance. Gloira wished she had thrown it away or sold it as she had always intended after her mother died but she had never been able to do it. The ring was always kept in a pouch at her side or on her saddle with a few coins, an easy target for a thief or a cut-purse. She had always secretly hoped it would be stolen from her, making her decision easy. Without that ring she would have had no links to her past and abandoning it would have been easy; no one had taken it though. It had hung on to her for her entire life as she had hung on to her name and her memories.

Grasping the ring she pulled it from the pouch and tossed it onto the table near Baliska. Odd that parting with the ring was so easy once she had decided to embrace her past, decided to take some responsibility beyond the slaughter of her enemies.

"I'll need it back when you're done," she said curtly to the half-orc. "We may need to stop at a jeweler on the way back to the seamstress to have it fitted to me."

Gloira walked away from the crowded dining room and towards the back rooms yelling loudly for one of the serving girls to prepare her bath.

[vastgoten]

Having a seat at the far end of the room, the slender Father Arghivius observed the common room. His black robes were of fine fabrics and the silvery ornaments forming odd circles and coils would tell about a certain standard to one who looked for the signs. His right hand - relaxed on the armrest as his left held a wine glass under his nose. He absently twirled the glass between his slender fingers as he inhaled the aroma with a longing sigh.
His attention soon shifted toward the table where Gloria had her dinner. He followed Baliskas actions carefully as she entered the room and allowed a slight polite nod toward her as the half orcs watchful gaze wandered across Marrents seating. When Gloria rose to depart for her bath Marrent stood from his chair inclining his head toward the noble woman’s back.

Once she had left; the priest gracefully took his seat again, continuing to observe the residents of the inn. The wine glass found itself forgotten on the table, its content undisturbed.

[LordVare]

Baliska raised an eyebrow at Gloira, giving her an inquisitive glance as she got up and left in a rather uncouth manner. She had expected no answer to her unspoken question and in course received none as the "Lady" Leonson yelled for a bath and strode off in the direction of the rooms. She knew well Gloira's abilities and demeanor on the battle field, but this new setting was going to be a curious one indeed for them both. While she could wax eloquent enough for a half-orc, impressively so it had been said, she was not a noble and had little notion of what would be expected of one. Gloira, for all that her birthright and title made her a noble...well... she was still rough around the edges in ways that Baliska could only imagine would likely cause abrasions and rather unsavory reactions among Gloira's new "peers".

Shifting the candle and sealing wax from one hand to the other Baliska leaned across the table to take up the notice she had penned and the signet that had been tossed down onto the table. She held the lit candle out at a slight angle and then ran the sealing wax back and forth through the flame till thick droplets of it began to drop onto the bottom corner of the page to form a glossy crimson mass. Once she was satisfied with the foundation she pressed the signet ring into the blob, holding it steady for a few heartbeats to let the wax take the shape properly before removing the ring. Blowing out the small candle she set it and the wax aside admiring the shape of the flying red eagle that had been impressed into the seal. She read over the document twice more as the fresh marking and the ink began to dry and set into the paper. Now, she would only have to repeat this process a few dozen times this evening to have made any real progress. The prospect was not very exciting and she made a mental note on speaking to Gloira soon about hiring a scribe or three.

Upon lifting her eyes from the notice, she glanced around for someone to fetch a cup of wine for her and noticed rather unexpectedly that her recent acquaintance, Father Arghivius, had decided to frequent this very inn on the very evening she and the Lady had chosen to do so. Almost instantly upon seeing him she could not help but wonder why he had come here. She could scarcely believe chance alone would have brought him into a common tavern on an evening of thunder and rain. As well, thinking over her previous meeting with Arghivius, she had not mentioned where they would be staying only how to contact them via the name of the Lady's House. That being the case, she considered the implications of his being here with some interest indeed, and shifted her eyes in other directions as she did so. It would be rather impolite to stare, especially at someone like the good Father. The thought did cross her mind that she was of course not familiar by any stretch of the imagination precisely what the Father's taste were in what he chose to drink. However, she would have assumed him by all reasoning to be the sort who's preference would call for a far more venerable vintage than that which he was likely to find in this sort of establishment.

Pursing her lips Baliska contemplated the situation, her desire for wine all but forgotten. No, it was not chance at work here. It had not been chance with Aers, nor with Gloira, and not with this Father either, she could almost sense that it was so. What was it then exactly? Going over what she knew of the Father, she finally had it.. what she thought the situation was anyhow. The intelligence she had been provided regarding the Father had briefly touched on the fact that despite the overall ecclesiastic tone to the man, he was no less capable in matters which required a certain aristocratic finesse. Or, at the least, the man had some background in the area. She figured that must be the reason then, the particular expertise fit too well with the need of the moment. Though her meeting with the Father had been brief, it had been quite obvious her source was well informed. And now, here he was. Only, how to proceed? Almost as quickly as the question formed, a solution also became apparent.

As might be expected, seduction was scarcely a social option which Baliska often managed to use with any great or even notable success. Yet, in this situation... She quickly removed her helm and set it on the table near her gauntlets with her bracers following suit directly after. Picking up the belt knife she had set on the table previously, she cut away the bandage which had been tied around her arm earlier in the day. The wound under the wrapping was just staunched she noted, and had not yet scabbed over. Using the point of the knife she sliced into the wound with a grunt at the sting, just cutting enough that it opened and permitted the smallest dribbles of blood to well to the surface and run down into her palm. That done, she dropped the knife and stood, giving another look and grimace at her boots still covered in mud. Well, there was nothing to be done for that now, it would simply have to do.

Shaking her neck length hair out around her face Baliska walked in steady steps across the room to the table where the Father now sat. Bowing as she reached what she considered an appropriate distance, her bloodied arm the one held slightly out and towards the priest for the duration of the maneuver. As she righted herself, she returned it to her side and gave the man her best smile, showing off her pointed and pearl white orcish teeth. Lowering her voice so that it carried only enough to be heard over the din in the room she spoke, "Good evening Father, I am surprised to see you here this evening. I do hope the offering of House Leonson was not found wanting to your particular palate. The flavor is an acquired one or so I am told by some. Though once one grows accustomed to it there seems to be little else which suffices quite like it. If you had the good fortune to find it pleasant then perhaps you would care to join the Lady Leonson and I privately to share another glass? There are of course, other varieties of note available to the House as well should another be more in accordance to your preference. I do think the Lady would be delighted to share a few words with you regardless if you would be willing to grace us with your presence this night."

[vastgoten]

Looking up the priest frowned as his eyes caught sight of Baliskas bloody hand. His lips parted slightly and it took a few long breaths before he lifted his gaze and met the half-orcs eyes.

His somewhat surprised appearance quickly shifted as a smile spread across his pale face. Clearly enjoying the scenery Father Arghivius watched Baliska appraisingly.

"Beuty and beast. How appropriate."

Rising slowly he adjusted his Robe making sure it looked proper. Then he nodded toward the half-orc.

”If Lady Leonson would enjoy my company I most certainly will answer her call to share… a drink.“

Eyes fixed on Baliska he held out his arm toward the stairs.

”After you.”

[LordVare]

Baliska was unable to suppress a chuckle at the Father's words and allowed herself a wry smile in reply. She was quite acutely aware of her status in such regards as to what most of the races considered beauty to be, as well she understood the tact in the Father's choice in reply. Across the races of the land what was generally considered alluring tended towards ideals that were much more suited to Gloira than herself. However, the sentiment was exactly what she had expected of the priest regardless of what he might actually have been thinking. The convincingly sincere manner in which he managed to speak such things, despite that knowledge, was a large part of what made the possibility of having such an individual aligned with their House very desirable. Where she and Gloira were more comfortable in combat issuing orders to troops around them, the priest had proven in both of their meetings to date to be an individual who exuded an ambiance of wealth, taste, and propriety. Eager to speak with the priest in a more secluded venue she gave another bow, "Very well, if you will excuse me for just a moment, I must make a few minute arrangements before we depart." With that, she turned from Arghivius.

She returned to the table where she had been writing previously and gathered up the contents of her new writing kit and the notice she had penned earlier. Bundling it up with the remains of the twine, she tucked the kit and the rest of the paper under an arm. Leaning in towards the table she spoke quietly to the guards who remained eating and inquired as to the location of the room Gloira had rented then asked one of them to put in an order at the bar for a good red wine and three glasses to be sent up in a few minutes. That done, Baliska replaced her helm and shifted her discarded bracers and gauntlets from the table into the large silk pack she carried bound by thick chains to her waist. Everything now in order, she returned to the priest and nodded for him to follow her as she made her way up the stairs to the second floor of the Inn. It took only a few moments more to find the proper room which held the few trunks of gear and trivialities they had brought with them to Cear from Lendose.

Walking into an empty room Balilska grew concerned for a moment then gave another chuckle dismissing her worries, it seemed Gloira was still in the bath. No doubt after all the sea travel and days on the road the experience was refreshing, yet it meant she would have to entertain until Golira returned. Such things were usually not her strong suit, but she figured in this case being a "good host" may be easy enough. She sat her bundle on a nearby writing desk setup in the room and pulled the chair out for the priest waving him towards it, "Please have a seat for a moment if you would Father Arghivius, drinks should be around shortly and hopefully the Lady Leonson will be finished with her current engagement soon. I have no doubt she will be quite eager to speak with you."

[vastgoten]

With a slight nod Father Arghivius approaches the chair.

”I dare say the presence of Lady Leonson will be worth the wait. Besides, I am sure the two of us can find many things to discuss mean while.”

Taking the seat he spreads his dark priestly robes across the chair, enveloping the furniture in black velvet. His eyes studying the walls and windows for a while before they find respite and rests on the, with contradiction filled, image of Baliska.

”The Varanite noble houses of Cear will rejoice as they learn about Lady Leonsons return, I am sure.” he starts with a played innocence. ”Most likely the news has already started to spread. Some people are always eager to share merry messages with each other. But I am sure you and Lady Leonson are fully prepared for what is coming.” picking at his fingernails the priests expression clearly is filled with both irony and curiosity as he gives Baliska a cunning smile.

[LordVare]

Being wary of the still opened door Baliska cast a glance at the priest and spoke softly keeping her voice to a level which should carry only far enough for him to overhear, "The other Houses be damned Father, what we are about is more important by far than foolish houses and their politics. Necessity will require Gloria to deal with their games, and I think she may benefit from the insight of one such as yourself. In return you shall want for naught, even the smallest craving of such an exotic palate as yours."

Turning from where she stood and stepping back across the room, Baliska pulled the door open to glance both directions down the hall beyond. Finding it empty, she swung the door closed firmly, being sure it was securely latched against the decorated framework in which it hung on brass hinges. With that, she faced the priest and leaned back against the wall near the door regarding him with a smile, "When the lady returns, we shall gladly share a drink with you. Should you find our offer reasonable, and choose to assist our endeavors, then we shall share more than that. Otherwise, well... we will cross that bridge when we get there..."

<We are closing this RP here and it will be finished in another part of the forum. There will be another started soon publicly and a bit more open if anyone wishes to join.>