RP:Knights of a Mind

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The Dragon's Head Inn

When you enter the inn you are a little overwhelmed at first by the thick smoke that comes from pipes and cigars, the smell of beer, and the loud, cheerful music from fiddles, drums, and flutes. Many dwarves are gathered here, having a great time doing what dwarves like best. Some of them sing loud songs, accompanied by the music songs about true loves gone missing, the glory and mayhem of battle, about gaining and losing lots of gold. Some songs are even about all three at once. You can spot a table where you could sit and order some meals and drinks from the owner, Giolla, and have a smoke, or maybe you just want to listen to the music. In one corner you see a rather old dwarf, but much taller then the rest. He sits by himself, quietly playing some music on his harp. You wonder how he is able to hear anything with all the noisy business surrounding you, but you notice that all dwarves treat him with respect they even lower their voices when they are near him! To your west you see another room, where some dwarves are gathered, discussing something in loud voices. There is also a staircase going up, presumably to the rooms that this inn offers for rent, and you see an exit leading northwards. Next to that staircase rests a public board, presumably for detailing the events of Upper Craughmoyle.


Setan enters the tavern with a mission! But he's a knight and he's polite. This is why when he pushes open the door he let's out a much shorter, but not altogether smaller man exit first. The dwarf says something, it could've been thanks or perhaps an insult, so slurred was the word. It didn't matter, he didn't respond. Now once in, he takes a look at his colleagues, all bearded, all drunk. Well he had no beard and he was a dry knight. "This might be hard," thus he pulls up a chair at an empty table, soon to find out why it was empty. The chair he sat on wobbled, and when he placed an arm on the table (only lightly!), why the whole thing toppled right over and so did the candle that was lighting it. So Setan scrambled to his knees and picked it up and smacked out the little ember burning on the wood. The dwarves laughed and laughed and mocked in some foreign accent he didn't quite understand. But he wasn't embarrassed. He sat back on the chair and hailed to the bartender. "A drink please! Just something cheap to start off with." He wanted to see the dwarf place it on the table.


Ember enters a short time after the knight, dressed in her own armor of mostly-salvaged Preklek pieces, a spear held upright against the front of her shoulder. The elfess was not tall by any means but she was trim, her armor tailored to allow more mobility at the sake of some protection. Her green eyes scanned the laughing crowd, alighting with curiosity upon the human man ordering a drink. "I don't see many humans here." She speaks in that soft, elegant voice of hers. "A traveler?"


Setan saw her and inside he beamed, happy to see someone taller than a dwarf. Not only that but her armor gave her away! She was a fighter, and being among dwarves, he guessed an honorable one. He actually had only trace amounts of armor. He had no horse to carry it all, and he didn't want to bear the burden himself. So just his shoulders, knuckles, forearms, and a breastplate. They were iron and not very expensive, but they were fitted to him. He stepped out of his tilting chair only to bow before her a minute later. "My lady," says he, "My name is Setan and I am a traveler on an honorable quest to free the fox girl from the clutches of her guardian Gheneroc of the Deep. Yes it's true I do not even know her name but still I endeavor to save her."


Ember removes her helmet, revealing her pointed elvish ears, which perk interested at the name he says. "Gheneroc the Deep?" She sounds surprised for sure. "What do you know of this wyrm?" She moves over towards his table, her own armor fairly light weight, though she was by no means as tall as he. A good foot shorter and probably a hundred pounds lighter, yet she had the trim figure of a warrior, if one that moved with an elven grace. "Forgive my manners, I am Ember, servant of Arkhen." A symbol of that deity did indeed hang from around her neck on a silver chain of thin metal. "Please, tell me what you know of Gheneroc."


Setan sits down again tentatively, and finally the bartender comes around with his drink, and behold! He hands it right to Setan, the gentleman. "Just put it on the table, if you please." This dwarf however will not, and he replies, "I will do no such thing you know what'll 'appen don't ye? Just take it." And thus he shoves it into Setan's ready and open hand. Now Setan turns again to Ember, "Yes be careful with this table. "And I will tell you what I know of him. I first heard of him some weeks ago, just a-wandering about the mountains, following my instincts. When I catch sight of two interesting looking fellows, an old hermit, and a feline. I follow them both into this cave, and inside? A fiery furred fox girl." He let's the scene take old and places the drink on the ground by his feet. "She's scared of me, of all of us. I mean look at me, don't I have an honest face?" He smiles toothily. Some are yellower than others, and a couple a little crooked. His eyes peer out from deep within his skull and his nose is somewhat pointed. But still, he looks convincing, sincere. "And that's when one of them talks about a dragon. Anyways, I leave, deciding I'll check on the girl again later. So I do, and there's no sign of her. Only of this big dragon, Gheneroc, and his babies. Err...I didn't get their names." He takes a breath, realizing this is a longer story than he thought. "Anyways, he said he would release her to my custody if I learned all I can about the dwarves and reported this back to him."


Ember listens, smiling politely when he mentions being honest, for while he's not what many would consider the definition of handsome he does at least seem sincere. She listens in silence, largely ignoring the brief conversation he'd had with the dwarf, having grown used to their brusque manners herself. The concern in those emerald eyes of hers is obvious. "I too have met this Gheneroc and his vampire servant." She answers. "And I will soon be conducting talks with him and the dwarves; he and his brood have been preying upon their trade caravans going through the Xalious Mountains. The wyrm would not be so easily slain; thus, I have convinced both Gheneroc and the dwarves that they should work out a mutual pact. A deal with the devil, perhaps, but better than the alternative of slaughter which a battle against that creature would be." She keeps her voice low so it won't carry past their table as she speaks, having sat down across from him, her spear resting against the stone wall next to her. "I have not seen a fox girl in my times dealing with him. No doubt Gheneroc hopes to use you to prod Craughmoyle for weaknesses he can exploit; what is the fox girl to you that you would seek her in your custody?"


Setan clasps his hands together and rests his chin upon them, balancing on the sturdy side of the table. "I have suspected as you have, that I am merely a spy. I warned that I wouldn't break the law, but we do have a deal, and I will relate to him what the dwarves tell me." He purses his lips and narrows his eyes to slits thoughtfully. "I haven't decided whether or not I will tell the dwarves what I have done with their experience. I assume they would seek to kill me afterward. It would be just that they would." He nods affirmatively, and without fear. Does he even wonder that he might live? "And I'm only freeing her because it is a person's right to be free. Once in my custody she may either travel with me to Kelay and live in peace, or perhaps return to the wild, I think that's where she's from." He rubs the shadow on his mandible. "So, you say you've already been in touch with the Dwarven clans?"


Ember tilts her head. "Though if she willingly entered the dragons service then she has made her choice. If you feel driven to try and get her away from it then I would merely caution you that Gheneroc is not to be trusted; you have no guarantee that he will keep his word to you or not otherwise deceive you." A light smile touches her lips. "Which you already know, I'm sure. I have been in touch with some of the clans, yes, and they have spoken with the others. I have been working within the city to help secure it and it was on a quest to destroy the dragon whelps that I encountered Gheneroc. I will not lie and say I was unafraid but I sought a way to resolve the issue without Craughmoyle marching into a disastrous war with the creature. He has already alluded to collapsing their mining tunnels and I do not think he makes idle threats. My role has merely been to get the two sides to agree to talk and the dwarves feel it is better to try that then to risk a conflict with the dragon at this time. I have consulted with others as well on Gheneroc; he is old, truly ancient. Even his own kind have a healthy fear of him. I'd not see all these people killed if there's a way to appease the serpent and benefit from its presence."


Setan taps his fingers on the table somewhat disappointedly. "I had not considered that she may have volunteered herself to him, and that would be a shame. I pray that I do not release her for nothing when the time comes." After a beat he ran his gloved hand across the table, measuring the smoothness through the leather. "I do agree that he is not to be trusted, and I agree that he is powerful. And if the dwarves agree to his terms, whatever they may be, then their terms be honored. But I do not know what Gheneroc's motives are, and whether or not he will stop, negotiations or none. After all it is as you said, 'he is not to be trusted'." He shakes his head slightly, mulling over the ominous threat the dragon poses. "I would have freed her by force had I the means, but I do not and down in the world's cellar I am." Now he sounded regretful.


Ember reaches over and gives the top of his hand a pat. "Take heart; not even dragons are eternal. And their over-confidence has been their downfall for millenia hand in hand with their pride or else surely they would still run a vast empire. While individually powerful, Gheneroc can not fight the entirety of Craughmoyle's forces, else why would he even negotiate instead of just take? No, he is trying to be subtle in his way, and that means he is trying to avoid a large scale open conflict. The wyrm is mighty but he is still only one dragon." And the whelps would take years upon years before they were a true danger to the area. "I do not trust Gheneroc but I see no way to destroy him and thus we are left with the unpleasant reality of indulging him to a degree, for the moment at least." She withdraws her hand once more. "If you are acting from selfless concern, that is noble, and you cannot be faulted for it. I will pray to Arkhen on her behalf that there is a way to truly free her and if so that he will empower you to do so."


Setan continues to tap his finger, "I do not like this, but you're right..." He sighs deeply to quell his feelings, and return to logic. "The dwarves too are a warrior race, they will not fall just to him. But then still I can't but wonder: What does Gheneroc hope to gain in Craughmoyle? Is it territory? Wealth? Room to grow his whelps perhaps?" He blinks and shakes his head. "And what are the terms? Why should the dwarves give anything to him? Arghh." He once again takes a breath. "I know you do not wish it, but I predict a brutal and bloody strife. If he reneges on his promise, the dwarves will fight him. They are proud. May I ask, who among the dwarves have you been in contact with? I wish to speak with him or her later."