RP:Let Me Show You My Stradivarian

Summary: Odhranos needs to fix his fancy violin, a Stradivarian, and hears Josleen, Thane of Frostmaw, may be able to help. As luck would have it, Josleen visits the same bardic hunting lodge. They chat about fancy violins when suddenly Josleen discovers she’s been pickpocketed!

Odhranos, terramancer extraordinaire, chases the thief through a burrowing tunnel in the mountains, then summons a stone lion to intimidate the thief. Turns out the thief is a bereaved father who lost his son in the war and stealing from Frostmaw’s Thane gave him a small sense of justice that would never fill the void of his loss. Also the bereaved father has the facts wrong. Josleen and Odhranos set him straight, show him mercy, send him on his way.

Josleen then agrees to fix the broken Stradivarian.

Bardic Hunting Lodge

"So, you're saying it can't be fixed?" Odhranos asked, an anxious lilt to his voice as he did so. The subject of his anxiety lay before him, in an open case, which was lined in iridescent emerald velvet; a gorgeous, yet clearly aged violin, carved expertly from a piece of rosewood, it's surface carefully varnished and lacquered. The issue, however, lay in the damaged bridge, pegs and strings of the instrument, which had suffered extensively during the long voyage from Oileán to Lithrydel upon the mage's journey. "I'm not saying it can't be fixed, just that I can't fix it." replied the bearded man sitting across the low table from him, a pearlwood lyre resting in one hand. Odhranos sat back, running a hand through his scruffy brown hair, an anxious habit of his. The mage was distraught, he had possessed the violin for almost as many years as he had lived, it was a prized possession and he hadn't played it in a number of months since his exile. To hear such news, it felt like losing an old friend. Odh let out a sad puff and hunched, deflated somewhat. "Is there anyone who might be able to repair it? It is extremely valuable to me, I would pay any cost." The grey-robed man explained, his hands pressed almost pleadingly together. The bard stroked his soot-black beard. "You could try and find Alex, he might be able to help you, but there hasn't been sight nor sound from him since the "commotion" up north. Then again, Ms Josleen might be up to the task, if you can find her; she's a busy woman as of late." The bard ran his fingers lightly over the strings of the lyre, drawing forth a sweet chiming scale. "Right, Josleen, I'll see if anyone knows where I might find her. Thank you for your help." The mage carefully closed the lid of the case, clipping it shut and getting to his feet. "Not a bother, my lad, it's a pleasure to help another music maker. If you do get it fixed, you can play me part of that piece, The Saga of Whatchamacallit, or whatever it was, it will be nice to hear music from a land across the sea." The bard smiled, offering a hand to shake. Odhranos took the hand and shook it gladly. "The Saga of Cúchullain, it is a magnificent piece and I would be delighted to share it. Until we meet again, friend." The mage stepped quickly between the chairs and soon stood outside the entrance to the hunting lodge. "Ms Josleen... I'll have to ask about the tavern" he mumbled to himself.

Josleen, aka Busy Woman (TM), sat in a luxury carriage on the lumpy Xalious road, southbound. Busy women must multitask to get ahead, and Josleen had tried to make use of the downtime in this commute back to Larket to write letters. However, the winter had been harsh and the uneven gravel was further pockmarked with potholes. Each bump and jolt of the carriage wheel sent her quill scrawling across the parchment. The letter 'o' eluded her, to say nothing of the tricky cursive capital 'G'. Shortly after spilling the ink on her fine imitation-Kreekitaka dress, Josleen gave up the plot. The letters would have to wait. Originally she had planned on driving past the lodge, straight to Xalious to visit with her parents, but a series of bureaucratic events in Frostmaw, a rock slide further north on the road, and the lethargy of the lame horses had slowed her progress and irritated her mood. Mead, she decided, was now a medical necessity to soothe her mood. (Though nothing stronger than honey spirits for she is a woman of proper rearing.) She instructed the driver to pull into the carriage lot, and although she itched to open the door and free herself from the cabin, she knew it was only proper to wait and let the chaffeur do his job. He took his sweet time. She took a deep breath. Arkhen, Aramoth, whoever, give her patience! She missed her home, her beau, and her independence. In Xalious she is the daughter of a prominent Mage's Guild member; in Frostmaw, the Thane; and in Larket, the partner of an important councilmember. All of these roles sought to control her behavior. The rules are implicit and assumed, and thus the hardest rules to break. She missed, sometimes, her life as a student of music and the arts in Cenril, or a performer in Venturil. She was freer then, but also powerless and poor. Pros and cons to everything. Still, perhaps for this reason, too, the Bardic Lodge called to her. A little taste of life without rules. As she entered, she greeted several acquaintances including the bard with whom Odhranos just spoke. Her spirits lifted and she smiled as though she were already upon a stage. The barkeep, with whom the gray mage spoke now, said, "Ah, Lady Daedria smiles on you, sir. There she is." The barkeep nodded towards Josleen then left to prepare her mead.

Odhranos was just preparing to leave and seek out someone in the village who might know Ms Josleen's whereabouts, so in his confusion, he spun on one heel and performed a rather comical touble-take, eyeing up the approaching noble-woman with something akin to "mage-in-headlights". The poor befuddled mage took a moment to shake his head and compose himself before pulling out a stool for the lady. "Ms Josleen! Terribly sorry to bother you, I was just inquiring amongst some of the patrons with regards to the repair of a musical instrument. I was informed you are the person to ask about such things?" The mage, now having pulled together some semblance of composure, flashed a warm smile; having been trained from birth for the role of a diplomat, Odhranos could ply charm like master, however his gentle and kind nature meant that it was genuine and friendly, not a bit sleazy in the least (At least to the best of his knowledge). When the barkeep returned with a pristine goblet of mead (Only the best for Ms Josleen), Odhranos ordered a cider. While the drink was being prepared, the mage placed the case on the counter, popping open the brass clasps and creaking back the upper half of the case, revealing the violin within. The surface of the instrument was planed in such a way that the grain of the wood resulted in large lazy rose-coloured spirals curling across the rich maroon of the wood, while the fingerboard was a shiny polished ebony. "I've been looking around to try and get it repaired, but none seem to have confidence enough in their ability to do so. Methinks it might have something got to do with this-" The mage pointed to the lower right-hand curve of the violin. Tucked in against the edge of the body, lay a small gold script. Curling and cursive, it spelt out De Stradivaria". The mage grinned sidelong at Josleen. "A Stradivarian... it's one of the most valuable types of violin... but it's damaged." He grimaced, gesturing towards the splintered bridge and keys of the instrument, the fragments of which lay in the base of the case.

Josleen recognized a kindred spirit in Odhranos's obsequious greeting, which is not to say his charm failed. She was charmed, despite knowing the game. A dance is made no less enjoyable by the fact the dancers know the steps to come. In fact, as a bard, performer, charmer, and diplomat herself Josleen appreciated dance, literal and figurative, more than most. "I'll be happy to help if I can. What's the damage?" Odhranos produced a violin case and she commented, "I favor the strings myself." As soon as she saw the maroon wood, the rosy spirals, the curved planes of the bouts, the cirlique f holes, she knew it was a Stradivarian. Of course, she did not rob Odhranos the pleasure of stating the fact aloud, because that pleasure is one of the many afforded to Stradivarian owners. It is possible the violins come with instructions which include 'Brag, you lucky son of a -----' and 'If someone has never heard of this make, balk in disbelief, laugh ruefully at their naivety' (which coincidentally is how Josleen learned of it as a child from her own mother, also a bard. She was seven.) Josleen showed the proper awe expected of her when presented with a Stradivarian and made devastated comments about what a tragedy it was that such an instrument should have in any way been damaged. Tragedy! As she lamented the state of the Stradivarian she rooted around her purse for her wallet. The barkeep performed his role of stating Josleen drinks for free, and she reciprocated as expected by insisting she pay, she just needed to find the wallet. "It's in here somewhere..." From the sound of it, all sorts of papers, keys, makeup, a mystery debris and thingamabobs called Josleen's purse home. Eventually she conceded, her face blanching, "It's gone!" Her wide-eyed stare spun around on the door and she hissed, "The driver!" Mead abandoned, she stood up and took off towards the door, stopping only when it became obvious through the window that the carriage was gone, the driver gone with it. She'd been pickpocketed! In complete disbelief she returned to the barkeep and Odhranos and stammered, "I can't believe it!" A few curious eyes turned towards the trio. "The nerve! There was something off about the way he helped me down from the carriage." Pause to let reality sink in, and one again, "The driver!" (Shortest game of Cluedo ever.)

Odhranos permitted himself one grin. Go on, just the one, the brand demands it's payment of bragging. The violin had been a gift from his father; a hand-me-down, yes, but a bloody valuable one at that. "I didn't even know it's value when I first got it, so by the time I was made aware, it already had great personal value to me. Part of the reason why I am so eager to get it repaired." The grey mage smiled ruefully, the violin was one of a small number of things he had kept after his exile, one he couldn't part with after having spent near half his life playing with. Come to think of it, he hadn't had a chance to play before.... Curses, negative thoughts party - Odh's eyes became overcast at the thoughts of home, his father, his home, his casting out. Shaking his head as if in an effort to dislodge his gloom, the mage lifted his eyes as Josleen sprinted back to the window. "The driver?" He inquired confused, then things fell into place; "Your wallet? The cur, robbing someone under the guise of transporting them!" Odhranos' eyes darted to the window, which he crossed over to upon Josleen's return, instinctively placing three silver coins on the bartop to cover both drinks, hopefully before Josleen could notice and object and closing the violin case, which was strapped carefully to his back, alongside the long flourite staff. Opening the door, the mage crouched down on his haunches, bunching up one long, wide-wristed grey sleeve to bare his arm to the elbow. Anyone looking would be astonished by such pale skin; benefits of heralding from the far East, me laddy, begorrah. Placing one hand flat against the earth, long-fingers splayed out, the mage closed his eyes and let his senses diffuse into the earth, like a sugarcube in boiling water. Odhranos could sense the stone and earth and soil of the mountains all around him, how they lay, in stratum and layers, but he could also tell if they had been disturbed or moved. At that moment, there were three disturbances; a large weight to the north, in the mountains, seemed to be immobile, presumeably some mammal, perhaps even a dragon!? (Odhranos, proceedeth to tone down the saurian fanboy-ing). The second lay close by, a faint thrum of movement in and around a certain area... mines, bingo. However, the final disturbance appeared to be moving, at some speed also, down the pass towards the valley and village within. Due to his wonderous powers of deduction (obligatory Sherlock theme) the mage assumed that this signature was in fact the scarpering driver, high-tailing his way to Xalious to launder his ill-gotten gains. "I hope you have some decent shoes and aren't claustrophobic." He grinned back at Josleen as he straightened again. "Your delightful chauffeur is halfway to Xalious Village, but we have a chance of catching him- " the ground at the mage's feet split to form a small chasm, into which the mage hopped lithely, offering the lady a hand. "- if we go by unconventional means." The mage couldn't help the cheeky smile, after all, there was no better way to get past a mountain than to go straight through.

Josleen noticed the silver coins and made a half-hearted effort to refuse his kindness politely (as scripted by society at large), but the despirited tone ("No... you musn't...") signalled that she wouldn't outright refuse the silver. The trouble with the driver had her attention, as did Odhranos's curious method of investigation, which in a world like this one isn't too peculiar at all, really. Decent shoes? She wore impractically fashionable boots with kitten heels, and said, "Yes!" Claustrophobia? She shook her head and pulled a matter-of-fact expression that said 'not at all'. The earth cracked open like a walnut, and Josleen hesitated to join this man whose name she still did not know. The recent theft left her bereft of trust for strangers, but then she remembered his Stradivarian. No criminal, malcontent, or sadist had ever owned a Stradivarian. Ah the privileges of wealth. Guilty until proven rich. She took his hand and joined him in the shallow ditch, then promptly released his hand as is proper (though he may take it again if necessary for transport). "What now? We walk?" She laughed nervously, knowing full well something unexpected and magical was about to occur.

Naturally Odh gently waved off Josleen's protests; given the circumstances, arguing over it would be counterproductive and given he was already asking a favour of her regarding the violin, all was fair. "It's fine, they're inexpensive and you didn't even touch it, wouldn't be fair for you to pay." He tapped his chin upon hopping into his little hollow in the earth, hopefully the bartender had the nouse to store both drinks in the fridge, he'd certainly need one after this. Mind focused Odie; criminals to catch, drinks and small-talk later. The mage stood in the centre of the split earth and spread his hands. His eyes glowed a dull silver and with a shaking rumble, the earth beneath their feet began to shake, prompting Odhranos to outstretch an elbow incase the lady lost her feet. (Ever the gentleman, Odhranos almost lost his own footing in doing so, only a tactical shuffling saved his balance and dignity, the eejit.) He took a glance at her heels and grimaced, there were better things one could wear, but no matter, time was of the essence. "Now... we pause." He smiled then both hands turned to face palm-down and drop. The earth grumbled in protest but the plate of stone they stood upon dropped quickly until the earth sealed again over their head. "And now..." the wall infront of Josleen split open and continued to split, forming a corridoor "- we run!" He grinned in the gloom, a faint white-grey glow illuminating the space, glimmering from a small orb of fire hovering over the mage's right shoulder. Upon Josleen leading the way, the mage would begin to close up the corridoor behind them, resulting in their little bubble of air to travel at speed through the mountain in the direction of Xalious. As he ran, the mage called over the lady's shoulder. "Most apologies by the way, my name is Odhranos, I'm a terramancer in the Mage's Guild." Odhranos was unaware of Josleen's ties to the guild, but thankfully he had the sense not to begin explaining and make a fool of himself. He dragged his fingers across the wall as he ran. "We're making good speed, the pass winds around nearing the valley, we can intercept the driver." He called forward. He didn't elaborate further, the strain of running, talking, and using his powers to both open and close the rock was significant enough to trouble him; hopefully he wouldn't get a nosebleed…

Josleen clung to Odhranos's elbow briefly to steady herself as needed, but she did not make a show or sport of it. Now we pause indeed. Pause to consider this: Surely this was not the best method for our heroes to catch a runaway driver. Most people would have opted for a second, faster horse. Josleen did not have time to address the peculiarity of Odhranos's crime-stopping method, for before she knew it she was sunk into the earth and praying this man is not, indeed, a sadist. (Come to think of it, in the clutches of fear, she considered briefly the possibility his Stradivarian was either fake or stolen.) She also spared a thought for Kelovath, who (she realized now a bit late) if he discovered Josleen blindly trusted a mad terramancer and jumped in a ditch with him would possibly kill Josleen to spare himself a lifetime of grief and worry. Needless to say Josleen had no problem running, and fast! Miraculously her heels did not once trip her up. Her fears were finally abated when Odhranos announced that he is a member of the Mage's Guild. Oooooooohhhhhhhhhh. It all made sense to her now. Mages are all batty. Fact. If you ask a mage to open a latter, rather than fetching a letter opener they would summon minotaur to chew through paper. "Then you know my father, Kyl'oriel!" she shouted back, in part as a warning that IF he should turn out to be a serial killing terramancer, there would be consequences. "How do you know when we've reached the thief, or if we're even running in the correct direction?" she asked breathlessly as she ran.

Odhranos' jaw dropped. "Y...y...your father is Kyl'oriel?! As in THE Kyl'oriel?!" Great logic there, naturally she was talking about the OTHER Kyl'oriel (mental slappity slap). Odhranos had read some of his work, but most of what he appreciated were the innumerable tidbits of information added and augmented on to other works, in all, Kyl'oriel had probably doubled the total knowledge of the mage's library in appendices and footnotes alone. He didn't totally agree with the scholar's utilisation of quartz, the mage had found that publication a bit hard to digest, but otherwise he admired the man greatly. And now he was holding a mountain (no, not figuratively) over his daughter. Great for the nerves, that. The mage gulped silently as he ran, then returned his focus to Josleen's question. "It's... a type of sight. I can sort of feel out where rocks and stone lie and I can sense if they are disturbed. As the carriage goes past, it knocks up stones, dust, sends vibrations through the soil. Think of it like a huge spiderweb." He panted, the strain of using terramancy while running was sapping his energy. He'd get them out, no problem, but be more use then? That'd be pushing it. As he ran, he grabbed the fireball from his shoulder and held it forward. "On your left" he called, and when Josleen turned, he would push the small flame forward so it hovered infront of her, lighting the way. The ground underfoot was rough, Odhranos hadn't the time to smooth it out, and the speed at which they tore through the earth meant the rending shrieks of stone echoed deafeningly around the small mobile cavern. Raising his voice to a shout, the mage called over the cacophony of the earth. "We should come out of the cliff about ten seconds before the carriage arrives. Daughter of Kyl'oriel; I'd assume you'd have a trick or two up your sleeve to sort the driver out, I can try halt the carriage, but I can't guarantee I'll have much energy left beyond that." Being an apprentice (granted self-trained to a pretty high standard) and all.... perhaps he shouldn't mention that...

(This is neither here nor there, but Josleen and Kyl'oriel both have excellent colon health. So. Your move.) Josleen pressed her fingers against her ears to protect them from the noise. She winced against the sensory overload, but neither the roar of rendered stone nor the uneven ground could thwart her steps. In fact, Josleen likely ran better in heels than flats. She was loathe to admit her gifts, though numerous, did not align with his expectations. Mages only consider arcane talent worth talking about, and so Josleen was quite content not to talk about the lack of hers. When they breached the ground, she stood in the center of the road, facing the carriage's approach. She crossed her arms and waited for the driver to slow, but he called her game of chicken and decided he would not lose. When Josleen realized he meant to drive her off the road, she opened her mouth and roared. The roar mimicked that of a dragon perfectly, and was as loud as you would expect from a saurian beast, and came slight from above their heads. The roar accomplished its goal" to spook the horses. The horses bucked and tripped over each other in an effort to turn back up the road. The more the driver tried to control them, the more they fought. Josleen donned her shimmering ice glove and waved it over head to assert her status as Thane of Frostmaw. "A crime against a thane is a crime against the crown!" she shouted. "Return my coinpurse to me, and I shall consider mercy."

Odhranos split open the cliff face for Josleen to sprint out of the tunnel, but he himself opted for a different entrance. Diving into the wall of the tunnel at an angle, the mage seemed to be absorbed by the rock for a moment, being sucked into the wall, before bursting out of the cliff a bit down the road from Josleen. Thankfully the lady wasnt quite as helpless as she thought, her impressive grasp of bardic magic managed to cause enough dissarray amongst the horses to halt the carriage, prompting the driver to reign them in before he was pitched headlong, carriage and all into the cliff. A few meters behind Josleen, the mage clenched one granite claw in the dirt and threw his head back, fang-crowded mouth splitting into an ear shattering roar of fury and..... wait... hold that thought. What Odhranos had neglected to explain was he had utilised the remaining power he had to demonstrate his speciality; terramantic proxy, creating biological forms from stone and earth. At the present, the mage was ensconsed in a large mass of stone ripped from the cliff-face and moulded in the form of a large tiger-like beast, hooked claws, club-like tail and a mouth straight out of one of Cire's darkest nightmares. He paced past Josleen, his slate-grey eyes studying her as he passed, then he focused his attentions on the driver, the very earth shaking with each foot-fall. He glanced at the horses, then his claw lifted and swung down... slicing through the reins of the horses. With one titanic roar, the poor animals screamed and fled back up the slopes, leaving only the driver left, pinned in between the carriage and the approaching monstrosity. The would-be-thief's eyes widened and he quailed, the purse in question held in one shaking hand as he pressed himself against the wood, as if trying to push his way through the very wood to escape. "N..N..No, miss, p-p-please have mercy!" He cried as the malevolent creature made its way inorexibly closer, he must have assumed it was a creature under Ms Josleen's control, as it seemed to spring from the very bowels of the earth at her frost-handed command, not necessarily a bad thing.

All theater kids love improv. Josleen was no exception. She picked up what Odhranos was putting down in the form on a granite lion demon and on the spot named the beast as she commanded him. "Raa," the elvish word for lion, "fetch my coinpurse from that there imbecile! And you, imbecile, be careful not to make any sudden movements when you surrender what is mine. My pet is jumpy and you may lose a hand, which would be an unfit punishment since it is not your hand which is bad, but your judgment. I'd offer a lobotomy, but it seems someone beat me to it judging by your actions today."

Odhranos turned his great stone head and baleful silver eyes glinted back at Josleen. One large glowing eye winked conpiratively, out of sight of the driver, then Odh returned his attention to the unfortunate shivering wreck formerly known as driver. Stepping up close to the man, the stone-lion blew breaths of cold earthy-smelling air; an artistic touch on the mage's part, involving expanding and contracting a chamber within the granite to simulate breathing. Opening his maw wide, the lion leaned forwards and growled angrily in the driver's face, then in a flash he had his teeth clamped around the man's wrists. The driver yelped, a high-pitched scream of fear, but luckily Odhranos had decided not to bite down, he simply backed away, drawing the man's still-intact hand from between the sharpened stone teeth, leaving the purse lying on the lion's cold stone tongue. Padding across to the lady, the creature dropped the purse by her feet then turned and took position behind her shoulder, growling and rumbling darkly as it stared down the trembling man.

Josleen retrieved the purse and, to complete the charade, patted the beast's stone shoulder in approval, as if it were a real pet. Her icey stare brings all of Frostmaw down on the driver now. "And what would you have me do with you? Tell me why you stole from me. A great risk to steal from a thane. Hardly worth it, even if you had escaped." She open the coinpurse to reveal only forty gold pieces. "Banking was invented partly in response to highwaymen like yourself. Tell me your motive."

Odhranos inclined his great stone head and crouched, resting on his forepaws, his glowing silver eyes trained on the driver, who was scrambling to retain some semblance of coherent thought. "It's, it's them bloody giants, if I do beg yer pardon ma'am." He finally spat out, his fear now giving way to anger, at himself and the woman before him. "Them big icy brutes have destroyed all trade in the area, I've been barely able to get by. And... and they killed my son, the demon-spawned scum, with their god-forsaken human hating ways. I... I've been saving... for a gravestone, you hear. But they don't come cheap... so when I sees a woman bearing the seal of those accursed giants, I says, she'll pay, if Frostmaw smiles on her, by the gods she owes my son. My... son.... my boy..." At this point, great rolling tears began rolling down the man's grizzled cheeks. From the back of the stone beast, Odhranos emerged, his eyes heavy with sorrow. "I'm sorry sir. About your son. The war took many from us that we miss dearly, but this isn't the way to go about making things right." He stated softly, striding across with arms open. Gone was the fearsome abomination, instead was a man who felt guilt at terrorizing a broken old man, who had been turned to stealing by the calamities of war. The driver broke down, his back heaving as he collapsed to his knees, soon accompanied by the mage, resting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "He... he was a good strong boy, ...wanted to trade and become a merchant, like his grandfather... then those brutes killed him for standing up against them when they marched through the market, announcing their takeover. He - he was a good boy..." the driver's words dissolved into sobs as the mage comforted him, the fear and anger flowing from him as he let his walls down, walls forged from pain and broken by guilt.

Josleen, too, was moved by the driver's plight. The war plundered not only lives, homes, possessions, and dreams, but also our ability to behave in alignment with our moral compasses. This man was not a career criminal, but a man whose better judgment had been tempted away from a natural impulse: revenge. Come to think of it, given his grief, theft was a benign away to go about avenging his son. A crueler man would have slit her throat. Josleen, no stranger to war, knew this instantly. The man sinned as much as she when tested, which was to say without violence and for personal gain. Josleen's uglyness, when it manifested, manifested in the same way and so it was easier for her to forgive. But still, this man's tale confused her. "Sir..." she approached both men slowly and with a gentle tone. "Which giants killed your son? If it is the ones who destroyed the market, overran it, those giants were loyal to Balgruuf who has been dethroned by Queen Hildegarde. rightful and current ruler of Frostmaw. She avenged your son, and I serve as her Thane. We are on the same side of this."

Odhranos lifted his eyes from the grieving man and gazed across at Josleen, his eyes heavy with sadness. "I believe I can answer for him; when the siege was broken in Frostmaw, most of the focus was put into re-establishing order and beginning rebuilding efforts as quickly as possible, word got out of the Silver's victory very slowly, I only found out due to my assignment in the Mage's Guild to assist the reparations, had I not been given direct orders to go to Frostmaw, I may not have known of the situation. Only those with direct connections to the city found out and word slowly trickled down from there, I would assume in his grief, this man didn't receive word of the victory and simply made a rash assumption." The mage shrugged sadly and returned his attention to the shuddering form of the driver, whispering comforts in an effort to help him settle himself. "I.. I'm sorry ma'am..." came the choked words after a while, as the man raised his tear-stained face to meet her eyes, his own full of tears and shining with grief, guilt and fear. "It... it changes you... losing your own flesh and blood... you lose sight of what you are doing, the grief justifies anything you do, no matter how wrong." He croaked, dragging a worn sleeve across his eyes in an effort to save face. Odhranos patted his shoulder and helped him to his feet before taking up position as before behind Josleen's shoulder. "I respect your grief sir, but amendments must be made for the crime." The mage stated firmly, folding his hands behind his back. The man nodded sombrely, remaining silent and resting his back against the carriage. "According to convention, the penalty for thievery is the loss of one's right hand. However..." the mage raised himself upright, stepping forward so he stood between the man and lady, glancing at Josleen momentarily then returning his focus to the driver, "...Frostmaw has already taken your son, your own blood and your "right hand" man. Therefore, as a neutral observer of neither party, I suggest that the penalty has been served, if it sits well both present." The mage returned his hands behind his back, keeping his expression neutral as he awaited the responses.

"You are forgiven. I confess that I too have erred when aggrieved. Perhaps not theft, but all the same I understand the impulse." Josleen was about to let the man go without further shaming or punishment when Odhranos interjected to announce that amendments must be made. The thane narrowd her cool gaze over a shoulder at Odhranos, a non-verbal 'What are you doing?' She did not undermine him, however, and let him speak. The mage began to speak with an authority that Josleen did not recognize. Who exactly was this man? But seeing as how the terramancer came to the same conclusion as Josleen, she nodded amicably to both men. "You may go, sir, and I hope you remember that Queen Hildegarde avenged your son. Spread the word in order to unburden other weeping hearts. May Aramoth be your shield." Once the driver leaves, Josleen turned on Odhranos and canted her head to the side. "You speak like a man accustomed to issuing judgments and wielding authority. From where do you hail?"

Odhranos met Josleen's gaze and deflated a little. He had meant only to clear the man of any potential further retribution, but his means of doing so had opened a window into his past. "I... there's... let me start again." He stammered, seating himself to the side of the road. He crossed his legs and interclasped his hands then let out a hesitant sigh. His slate-grey eyes turned up to meet Josleen's and the mage grimaced before speaking. "There is a chain of islands, to the far east, across the Great Eastern ocean, far beyond where any Rynvalian trader has ever travelled. Those islands were settled by a nomadic people over a thousand years ago, and from them, an empire was born. It is a peaceful empire, which expands through diplomatic relations and passive expansion, but it covers area almost twice the size of Lithrydel, with those islands as it's beating heart. It's name is Oileán and it was my home. But no longer." The mage got to his feet and crossed his arms, turning to face east, across the mountains, where the first hints of sunset began to tint the clouds a vibrant amber and scarlet. "I was next in line to become royal diplomat, after my father, I was the pride son of my house... but after one mistake, I was stripped of my title, exiled, disowned and my father tried to kill me." He murmured, his voice only barely audible to the thane. He turned and cast a sad gaze across her stern countenance. "I forged the bonds of an empire once, but now I am nothing. Forgive me for stepping out of line, but it was ingrained in me since the day of my exile to do everything in my power to help those I can. I... I am sorry I misjudged you, but I couldn't let you punish him unjustly, it wouldn't have been right." The mage turned and bowed deeply to Josleen. "Visit just punishment on me for my transgression, I understand." He intoned gravely, remaining bowed over.

Josleen settled onto a boulder for the tale. She needed to find a way back to Larket, and with no carriage in sight, she had time for Odhranos's story, to say nothing of her interest which was great. Her expression softened as he explained the political tapestry of Oileán, and his role in it. The mage's apology took her by surprise, and she laughed softly, partially in disbelief, as he suggested she punish him for overstepping. "I chose not to punish a thief, and you think me likely to punish you for... I am not sure for what, really." She gestured for him to stand. "You have committed no crime, but quite to the contrary, came to my aid when my purse was stolen from me. I owe you a debt, not a whip. Your manner simply made me curious. Don't think my cynical or bigoted for saying so, but a person's behavior is often formed by their class and yours gave you away as high born. That is all." She gazed at the sunset and sighed. Kelovath was surely worried for her, and likely had already sent a search party for her. "So, Mr. Odhranos, how may I repay you?" She expected him to say she owed him nothing and preemptively suggested, "And before your honor begs you to refuse repayment, remember I have access to signed copies of Kyl'oriel the Studied's books." Wink.

Odhranos' eyes widened, then he reddened somewhat. "I... I.. I'm not really sure what either." He scratched his head ruefully, feeling a bit of a fool, then he straightened. "I have been attempting to shake off the customs of my past, I am no longer the noble I once was, nor do I wish to be. It's easier said than done." he sighed, casting his eyes out across the land. The view was spectacular, part of why the mage had rooted himself in Xalious. It also let him watch the sunrise, for as the sun rose in Lithrydel, it set over the islands of his birth. His stern and sombre frown was broken by Josleen's jest, and the reserved quiet mage broke into smile. "You can predict my actions already, gods above I must be a box-standard high born indeed." he laughed before pulling his gaze from the shimmering dial of the burning sun and glanced across at the thane. "As terribly tempting as that might be, there is a more fitting request I might make of you, Ms Josleen." The mage reached over his shoulder and unstrapped the near-forgotten case that was strapped there. "There's a certain instrument that I hold dear to me, I would love if it could possibly be repaired." he grinned, an amiable twinkle in his eye. "Naturally, it would take a lot of testing to ensure that it is in working order, perhaps even a performance or two to break it in after such extensive damage. It is a Stradivarian after all. Can I depend on you to get great use out of it and return it once you have gotten tired of bragging?" He smiled, holding the priceless instrument out to the thane.

Josleen laughed at Odhranos's self-deprecating joke. "I've been told I read people well. You may yet fool others." The sunlight's warm light shimmered in the ice glove. The thane relaxed as the nascent rays of the sun warmed her. Strange that she should be a noble for a city so cold when she is a creature who abhors the gentlest of chilly breezes. With her attention on the sun, she didn't notice the violin until it was right under her nose. She blinked in disbelief as the man handed over his precious Stradivarian. "Oh, I would..." She laughed again, her voice like soft wind chime. "That you would let this out of your sight for a moment pays me the greatest compliment I've heard in recent memory. I will not betray your faith. Consider it done, and once it is ready, I shall write to you. Where may I reach you?"

Odhranos smiled as he handed across the violin. "I would trust the judgement of Frostmaw in their nobilities' integrity alone, but after tonight's dealings, I consider you a just and trustworthy person in your own right. A friend if I might be so bold." The mage met the thane's gaze and flashed an amiable grin; those accustomed with the mage would know of the rarity of such an expression from the reserved man, saved for genuinely entertaining circumstances or around those the mage instinctively felt comfortable with. "Nonetheless, there's not a vault that could keep me out if I had reason to retrieve it." The mage winked jokingly and reached into a pocket of his robes. Drawing a small black stone from his pocket, he placed it upon the case. "If you need to contact me, bury this in the ground, it'll find it's way back to me within a day or two." As if in response, the small stone wobbled slightly, pulsed a sudden greyish-silver, then settled back to it's regular argent colour. The mage glanced towards the sun, where it danced waveringly above the horizon and smiled. "I had best get on my way, my work beckons. Let me walk you back to the lodge first, we can pick up those hard earned drinks." With a friendly laugh, the mage set off up the stone-strewn slope, the rising sun warming his back.