RP:A Job for a Paladin

From HollowWiki

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc


Summary: Rorin unexpectedly meets Josleen outside Kyla's eatery. The symbol of Arkhen on his armor evokes memories of the Fallen Paladin Kelovath and the Queen grows dizzy. She asks if he knows Kelovath, and he says no. She then recruits him to clear out a camp of drow in the Eternal Forest.


Kyla's Eatery

Rorin sat outside in the rain. The smell of the shop had been partly warm and inviting but mostly he just wanted to be alone. At a table just outside the awning that would normally protect someone Rorin endured the mists of the downpour with with a hand over his coffee. He was taking deep breaths and looked incredibly tired. His hair, a black disheveled mess down to his shoulders, his eyes, a sunken grey that well reflected the storm. A black coat trailed on his thin frame, his underclothes just as dark, and the only mark of station he carried was the belt of weapons about him. A crossbow and broad sword, of well make, clearly no cheap soldiers buy. The pouches with them indicated travel, the lockets twinning his hips, sentimentality- considering one to be heavily broke. Around his neck he also carried the symbol of Arkhen tucked deep within his shirt. It seemed he'd had better days. Those words stung deep with truth.



Kyla’s Eatery’s door opens and warm firelit spills onto Rorin’s side. A gaggle of older women exit the eatery, chattering excitedly to one another. They are dressed in fine clothes, sporting silken and leather umbrellas, and hiking up their expensive hems to reveal expensive boots. The stream of rich ladies fragments into rivulets, each woman air-cheek kissing the others before breaking off to her own carriage where a doorman awaits with a second umbrella and opens the cabin door for his mistress. The youngest among this group is the Queen of Larket herself, Thane to Frostmaw, wife of Macon, and former lover to the Paladin of Arkhen, Kelovath. She kisses Violet Devereux (Reinhardt’s mother) goodbye. She’s about to leave via the most impressive and expensive carriage of all, the golden Royal carriage, when Rorin catches in her periphery. She glances at him, and is about to take her leave without a word, when the symbol of Arkhen makes her gasp. She has not seen that symbol since the fall prior, when she and Kelovath lay in bed in a tiny loft in Cenril, and across his bare chest stood his armor on an armor rack, the symbol of Arkhen proudly emblazoned on it. The memory dizzies her. She places a hand on an awning support beam to steady herself and is about to leave, but that symbol keeps her here. Does this servant of Arkhen know that bastard Kelovath? Where is he? What is he doing? Is he remorseful? Does he regret hurting her and Larket with his betrayal? She looks to Rorin and asks, “Do you know Kelovath?”



Rorin shivered. The warmth against Rorins side opposed the chill of the early misty storm in the way a caress from a lover opposed the cold of the world. He looked half heartedly towards the entrance. Nobles. None of them caught his eye except, "m'lady Josleen?" He queried with a bow of his head as she rather openly gaped at him. Did she recall him from some meeting? Their half glances across to eachother at wedding and ball had been passed off with import. At her swoon Rorin readily stood and stepped willing to catch her should her sway become a fall. "I- no?" He asks with a muddling of worry, confusion, and concern across his young features, their hint yet of a man, "I've heard, are you quite well madame?" If the Queen fell ill he'd be needed to take her to the nearest infirmary. Where of all places were her guards?



Josleen flinches a bit when Rorin tries to catch her and puts space between them. She doesn’t recall his face, and he is a stranger who evokes memories of a painful past. A guard also steps forward to intervene, but she signals for the guard to stop. There’s one nearby, another two by the carriage, and one still inside Kyla’s fetching a coffee and croissant to go. “Ah.. forgive me. I thought you might.” She looks over Rorin and is about to take her leave yet again when his dress reminds her of the north. He does not dress or talk like a Larketian. “Are you from Frostmaw?”



Rorin respectable retreated. He struck a quiet, half formal pose, an arm crossed against his chest with a touch of worry still drawing his half elven features. Now he notes them- including the more 'private I'd liked to not be noticed' ones. He'd apologize, a slight bow, "yes, m'lady." Had he gotten a bit of the Frostmaw dialect? Suppose he had been staying that long. "I serve as Royal Scout, Third Regiment, as well as High Guard in the Catalian Army, and a Swordsman of the Warriors Guild, and a Pilgrim of Arkhen. Rorin Deleas Gilead, m'lady." He gave a full and formal bow upon completing the rather lengthy introduction to come to the point of exactly who he was and how he mattered in anything. "Of course, you need no introduction," he said while trying to add a small smile and hoped her composition would recover. It seemed rather unlike what he'd heard of her.



Josleen arches a brow at all the titles. “Is that so. So you’re in both Queen Hildegarde and Sir Lionel’s armies?” The former perhaps being more impressive than the latter, but in a sense they are the same these days. She grins at his flattery and takes another deep breath to recover from that unwelcome memory of Kelovath. “My husband, the King,” she loves saying this as often as possible, “and I were discussing a problem the Warrior’s Guild could help Larket with.” She leads Rorin down the warp-around porch away from the entrance. Only one guard follows. “I was thinking of writing Queen Hildegarde, but since you are here, perhaps it’s something you could help me with more directly. Well not just help me, it’s really for King Macon.” She smiles and pauses, gauging his reaction to King Macon’s name, a wittingly administered test for the foreign soldier.



Rorin scratched his head, "uhm, well," he sort of smirked half uncomfortably. "It's a dual service. One sort of works with the other, so I have to include it. For formal reasons," he shrugged. He honestly had little want to act properly near a queen at this time but he tried to. Rorin nodded, following her. "I have no authoritative position within the guild, m'lady," his hands were stuck in his pockets rather indignantly despite his refined speech, a habit his master Lionel possesses as well. Rorins face tugged only a bit downward as she asked more of a favor for Macon than herself. He looked in tired resignation, helping where he didn't really want to.



Josleen catches Rorin’s reaction to Macon’s name and smirks privately. It’s difficult to excuse the wartime resentments from soldiers during peacetime. Old grudges endure. “You could also think of it as an assignment to help your God rid the world of evil and darkness. A camp of drow soldiers, about 20 or so, have taken up residence in the eternal forest. They have not attacked Larket so far, but they seem to be stationed there on official drow business. Their proximity is a potential threat, but attacking them first may provoke a war with the drow which we do not want to wage. We would prefer if the Guild could quietly handle this, or better yet, a paladin of Arkhen. Light versus dark, no politics.”



Rorin didn't really hate Macon anymore and sometimes had to actively tried not to blame him but it was a tiring if not futile exercise. "Evil and darkness? Ma'am I... 20 drow?" This was just now a problem? She hadn't told literally anyone else in her entire city about this? Doesn't that seem like a rather immediate problem? "Official drow business is never a good thing," in his opinion at least. "I see. You're being careful," he thought hard on this. "What do you wish me to do exactly?" There were plenty of ways he could handle this yet it seemed she wished him to rather quietly wipe them off the map. He could do that, potentially, perhaps. It seemed like a challenging idea to sneak up on a group of drow though. No politics meant no assassins either. A purely mercenarial kind of strike from the Guild. Larket would take no blame. Frostmaw wouldn't really either... but he'd be alone. Perilously so.



Josleen shrugs as Rorin asks how Josleen wants him to spin it. “A classic crusade should do the trick. The drow should be kept underground. They are evil and their presence on the surface is always followed by war. Who will defend them? None. It can either be done under the banner of the guild, or under the banner of Arkhen, your choice. And you should hire men who believe in this crusade as well. If funding is a problem, I’ll see to it that the problem is solved.”



Rorin rests a hand beneath his chin quizically. A time to ponder. "You seem to be quite worried," she had good reasons he supposed but drow weren't really a problem around Larket before. Suppose some tunnels may have come up from the earth quake and they were looking to capitalize. "Yes, m'lady. But a day is all I'll need to prepare. Please, allow me to see to this task. I will take who I may, if I find those that believe in the cause. A full report will be made to you," he assured her that she would be disclosed all details once the task was done. It would take a lot of planning. "Do you have your scouts reports? I'll need to look them over and confer a plot, after surveying their positions." Rorin was tactical to say the least and dependable to an extant. Though he was not necessarily loyal to Josleen Rorin was certainly against Drows plotting. He would get this done. For the Thane. Not for Larkets queen. He stole a glance at her and had an improper though about how she was rather pretty.



Josleen smiles at Rorin’s willingness to handle the drow infestation problem. “We do have reports. I will have them sent to you.” There is a formality to her which comes easily from years of practice in command positions, and those positions came to her in part because of her talents and wit, and in part because of her looks, which Rorin admires now. Her looks and shrewdly-dispensed charm have opened the doors of castles and manors, the beds of legendary monarchs and paladins and a mage, started wars and ended them. She feels his gaze on her and knows to smile and look downwards, a reaction as rehearsed as her formality, but his flattery comes as no surprise and she does not blush. “I should return to the fort. Thank you, Rorin. Until we meet again.”


Rorin bows to the expectedly formal extant. "Of course, Josleen," he said her name as he looked up from his bow and wasn't certain what he was expecting. She was, if nothing else, a well practiced noble woman, a woman of grace, beauty, and stature. He had expected no less and believed this to be a pleasant first meeting. A stiff, but unimpressive introduction, on his part. Lionel wouldn't be against him keeping his head low. Play your part, work along, and maybe he'd get somewhere. Where he was hoping to be- that was much more a vague concept than a certain idea.