PBEM Orlantia

The Story So Far
Chapter 004

PBEM Orlantia: The Valantaúr revealed.

Inside the inn, Sefarlain surveyed the menu drawn on a chalkboard attached to the wall. Afyanna and Cosher had ordered, and the waitress was hovering, waiting to take his order.

"The vegetable soup, with two sides of black bread please. And some honeyed cider to drink," said the elf.

It had been a long fast through the winter, and the last thing he wanted to do was give himself stomach cramps so soon. Sefarlain had not been in so extreme a position as this winter before, but he knew a huge meal would only make matters worse. When the food arrived he tried to eat slowly and purposefully. From the looks from the other patrons, he failed quite spectacularly.

The waitress returned. Her comments were not lost on anyone. "I think a bath at least would be very welcome," said Sefarlain, smiling despite himself. "Perhaps you could show me the way?"

Cosher and Afyanna buried themselves in discussion, while Sefarlain followed the waitress to a small upstairs room. It was basic but comfortable with a large tin bath in the center of the room. A large jug of steaming water stood by its side, recently placed there just after Sef signed in.

"We took the liberty . . . I'll leave you to it, then," mumbled the embarrassed waitress, and scurried from the room.

When Sefarlain returned, a very different sight greeted his new friends. Gone was the rotting pelt, and in its place was a sturdy brown cape. Admittedly, this was also weather worn, but it was a considerable improvement on what had gone before. On his hip were revealed two swords - one basic short sword, one ornate longsword with a fine leather scabbard. Afyanna thought she recognized the type, but couldn't be certain from that distance. His clothing was muted and secured by a hide belt with a distinctive rune on the front. As a gesture towards the creature that had saved his life, a small strip of fur was attached around the top of his quiver. All in all, he looked much less like a dead bear and more like an elf. A thin elf, but an elf. Afyanna smiled, clearly relieved at the change.

Sefarlain sat down and leaned forwards toward his new friends. "I'm glad we have a chance to talk," Sefarlain whispered, "because I think you should hear some of what I have to say. The story you have told is worthy of a ballad or two on its own, Afyanna, but I fear this tale has some way to go before we'll hear it. And for the moment, I'd rather choose who I share it with carefully."

The others moved closer, free from the previous odors.

Sefarlain went on, all the time in a low murmur, as if afraid of his own voice. The others could barely hear him over the noise of the other guests.

"When the winter began, I was two days west of here, on the ridge land. It began more fiercely than I have seen for many years - perhaps more than your lifetimes. I thought at the time that this was strange, but maybe there were other forces at work. I survived in a cave with only this poor bear for sustenance until spring."

He gestured towards the remains of Lefty. His eyes spoke of the hardship involved, even if he did not. "I left two days ago when the thaw began, and headed for this town. On the journey, I came across a man, mutilated beyond recognition. I have seen death in many guises, but never like this. It was if he had been crushed like an ant. And yet there were no tracks in the snow. None. I am sure he had not been dead long, but I cannot explain how he died. It was not by any natural means."

Sefarlain saw Afyanna whisper a quick prayer. He remembered his own over the man, but went on.

"As I came into town the next day, I saw your boat and curiosity brought me over. I know that we have not met before, but when I saw you from the shore . . . I felt sure that all these events were somehow connected, as if by the guiding hand of Someone. And from your tale, perhaps we are all involved in a greater purpose?"

<Elvish>"Maybe Corellon has chosen us for a special task?"</Elvish>he finished.

Sefarlain could see the Dwarf's eyes glowing with excitement. His Elvish WAS good!

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia:

Cosher lifted his eyes from his drink at this mention of Corellon and special tasks. It hadn't been the first time that the elf had mentioned his god - yet the fact that he had spoken in Elvish had seemed like a test to Cosher. The sea dwarf gazed long and hard into the eyes of Sefarlain. If nothing else, he certainly did seem sincere.

*He does genuinely believe that we've been chosen for some special task,* mused Cosher, *and that the three of us meeting like this was no accident.*

Come to think of it though, the more Cosher thought about it, the more it all made sense. From as far back as the Exador almost perishing on the bergs, to the mysterious shining light and then the chance meeting with Afyanna there, it did seem as if someone - perhaps this Corellon that his companions kept talking about - was guiding the young sea dwarf on a carefully chosen path.

*Hell, the way things have been going over the last few weeks, Ah wouldnae be surprised if fate had had a hand in that tree landing on that inn back yonder! Jus' tae get the three o' us over tae the Copper Keg. Don't tell me - there's a whole horde o' Corellon followers in some back room here jus' waiting tae convert me tae their religion.*

Cosher frowned, and then shivered at the thought of how much influence this god - or fate, depending on your point of view - might be asserting on his life right now.

On the other hand though, he was able to reassure himself that on a personal level events were certainly progressing according to plan. Not only was he thoroughly enjoying the food and drink the tavern had supplied them, but also as the conversation with Afyanna and Sefarlain progressed, he was becoming more and more convinced that he had certainly fallen in with the right people. He was now free of his service upon the Exador, and his new life as an adventurer had gotten off to a good start. Barely on dry land five minutes and he was already on the verge of getting caught up in some holy quest. How exciting!

Cosher lifted his jug of ale, reflecting on what a lucky young sea dwarf he was. He was also rather pleased at himself at how good he was at looking on the bright side of things - he tried to never let things like divine interventions or miracles get him down!

In an instant Cosher had made up his mind. He reached for Sliobhann - his saber - and placed it onto the table for all to see. Although sheathed, it was quite clear from the scabbard and handle alone that it was a magnificent piece of craftsmanship, bearing the traditional symbols of the Fiadharainn people.

<Elvish>This is Sliobhann,</Elvish> began Cosher, gently patting the sword. <Elvish>She's seen many a scrape already, and has never let me down. If as you both think, we are indeed on a special task given to us by your god, then you can consider Sliobhann yours.</Elvish>

Cosher smiled, and continued. <Elvish>Sure, you might think this a little rash on the part of Willie-John McLean, but I've been thinking. I like the both of you, and I do actually believe there is something in the three of us being here together. I'm certain it's no accident that has led me all the way here, so rather than fight it, I've decided to go along for the ride. And I am sorry that I cannot offer my axe as most dwarves wood do in this situation, but we sea dwarves are a more refined sort!</Elvish>

"But first," continued Cosher in Common, barely waiting for the others to respond, "Ah've now got the song in me head, and it just won't go away. Ah've just got tae sing it for ye. For the whole bar in fact! Just keep a wee eye on Sliobhann for me till Ah get back, ok?"

With that he jumped from his seat and bounded up to the bar. The barkeeper approached, drying a tankard with his cloth.

"Barkeep," Cosher began, "Ah am Willie-John McLean, and Ah would like tae sing a wee song for yerself and yer patrons. What d'ye say?"

"Well," said the barkeeper, "I do have my usual bard who sings here most nights, so I wouldn't be able to pay you, assuming that's what you want?"

"No, no," continued Cosher, "Ah'll do it for the love o' the music, as they say. An' if ye like me song ye can set me up another tankard of yer best ale - now what d'ye say tae that? Well, Ah'll leave that thought with ye, eh?"

With that, Cosher lifted the nearest barstool and dragged it up to a place next to the hearth, in what seemed like the prime position for entertaining the room. He could see Afyanna and Sefarlain turning to look in his direction, slightly bemused looks on their faces. There seemed to be a few about the bar, an odd bunch, but amongst them was a dwarf and a halfling so his song might well be appreciated.

The sea dwarf bounded up onto the stool with the ease of one used to climbing a ship's rigging for a living. He pulled himself up to his full height and produced a tin whistle from his belt. Resplendent in his blue and red 'ogha' that showed off his hairy knees to the crowd, Cosher loudly cleared his throat and tapped the whistle against the mantelpiece for attention.

"Excuse me everyone," he shouted, "excuse me! Ah am Willie-John McLean, the renowned teller o' tales and singer o' songs, and if ye would all jus' give a wee moment o' yer time, Ah've got a rousing wee song for ye all. Now, it won't take long an' it might jus' inspire ye all that wee bit more!"

Cosher gestured towards Afyanna and Sefarlain, seated at the far side of the bar. "Ah would like tae dedicate this song tae me new friends jus' o'er there. The song is called 'il Shaordha a MacLeonnadh-dra,' which means 'The Sword of the Clan McLean' in Thari."

The dwarf began to beat out a lively rhythm against his thigh, launched into the intro on his tin whistle, and then with a roar, began the song . . .

It was old yet it was beautiful, And the metals they were fine, It was wielded upon many a deck On the endless fields of brine. Sure me father used it in his youth In the grand old days of yore, And it's on the seas Ah love tae wear, The sword me father wore. Many a friend from death was saved And many a foe was slain, By the sword me father held aloft Through storms, wind and rain. Yet never will the sword go blunt And never leave me hand. Whilst the war cry o' the Clan McLean Echoes far from sea tae land. As the waves crash hard upon timber and sail Still the hordes approach the prow, There will Ah be with the sword in hand To vanquish all, no matter how.

With hardly a breath, Cosher repeated the last verse again on his tin whistle, stamping his foot on the barstool but miraculously managing to keep his footing on the precarious perch. Once it was over, he performed a theatrical bow, beamed at the crowd and said, "Why, thank you!"

- Johnny (Cosher)

PBEM Orlantia: Smell, Sea and Finery

Tyrulf sat there talking to Valin and Mystir, feeling better than he had in quite awhile. It seemed as though perhaps this was no chance meeting. It felt as if both of these men could help Tyrulf find his past, although at this time Valin seemed a more immediate direction. The three of them were discussing the horrible weather the winter had brought as they finished off their drinks.

The cold wind hit them from behind as the door was opened once again. Turning around, Tyrulf saw a strange sight indeed. Three people entered and one stood out from the rest. From the barstool where he was sitting, Tyrulf could smell him. The one he could smell was a motley looking elf wearing a battered, torn, and half rotted bearskin. With him was a sea dwarf; Tyrulf had seen several of them while he visited Pesorn over the years. The final person to this strange trio carried herself with a warrior's grace, and was dressed in fine clothes. The woman sat down with her back to the wall without thinking, Tyrulf noticed. *Perhaps we should stay for another drink. These three have some interesting possibilities.*

"Perhaps we should have one more drink, gentlemen?" Tyrulf asked of his new acquaintances. As he was asking this, the odorous elf got up and went upstairs behind one of the servers. The other two sat there speaking quietly to each other. A short time later the elf returned looking, smelling much better. *At least I can no longer smell him - a good thing to be sure.*

Tyrulf listened to Valin and Mystir talk about the Tarren Kingdom, but paid attention to the trio that had entered. Shortly after the elf had returned from cleaning up - something that Tyrulf had yet to do - the sea dwarf walked up to the bar and Tyrulf thought he heard him say something about singing. Then the dwarf grabbed a barstool, dragged it to the hearth, jumped up and introduced himself.

Excuse me everyone," he shouted, "excuse me! Ah am Willie-John McLean."

He continued with a song, which impressed Tyrulf both with his playing and singing. This was obviously a bard. After the song was done he jumped down from his stool and walked back to his table. Tyrulf called the bartender over.

"Barkeep, please send a round to the bard's table for me. A better song I have not heard in many a day. My friends and I will have another as well and I think another silver for yourself would be appropriate." Tyrulf tossed him a gold to cover the drinks he just ordered.

- MJA (Tyrulf)

PBEM Orlantia: Swords On The Table.

While Cosher sang his ballad to the spellbound audience, Sefarlain was able to reflect on the situation he found himself in. Although he didn't like to admit it, he had been both moved and impressed by the young sea dwarf's offer. Sef was not unusual among more remote Alderami Island elves in being slow to make lasting bonds with others. He sometimes wondered at a human's abilities to make such friendships so quickly and effortlessly. The ranger's friends were few, but immensely loyal. He had spent many years with them and had built up an understanding with them that could be difficult to explain to others. And yet the sea dwarf Cosher, too, had made a genuine and deep-felt commitment to both Afyanna and himself after meeting them that day. This showed a huge amount of faith, and deserved nothing less in return.

When it came to Afyanna, there was little to worry Sefarlain. She was clearly a very devout worshipper of Corellon, and from her demeanor and their brief conversation, Sefarlain thought he could detect a certain military air about her. The halfelf was similar in many ways to him, and this made any misgivings he had about this 'quest' vanish in an instant. *Here is someone I can trust easily,* he felt.

All in all, Sefarlain was counting himself very fortunate to have found such good companions. Maybe his father would be a little less critical if he was there right now . . .

Cosher returned from the hearth, the eyes and thoughts of the entire inn following close behind. He took his seat and was greeted at the table with a large whiskey ordered for his benefit by a grateful member of the audience. Sef looked round and saw a smaller hill dwarf raise his glass to the table. He nodded in return. "That was very impressive, Cosher!" laughed Sefarlain. "I don't recall hearing such a fine voice for many years. And thank you for the dedication. I think it deserves something in reply."

He pulled back his cloak and removed the longsword from his scabbard. Cosher's eyes widened as the blade was laid on top of Sliobhann, forming a cross on the table. A flicker of recognition and a half smile seemed to cross Afyanna's face at the sight of the weapon. Both took a more careful look.

Feathery runes adorned the blade, running down the length of the sword. They reflected the flame of the candles and seemed to dance in the flickering light, making any reading almost impossible. The hilt was encased in a dull red leather grip, worn smooth by years of handling and carried the same runic emblem as on Sefarlain's belt.

"This is Alonwë, my kin-sword from the Order. As you have to me, so I offer her to you both as a mark of my friendship and loyalty. I do not offer this lightly."

The other two looked down at the table and then smiled at one another. Some things were decided, then. The conversation turned towards their next step.

"I suggest we explore the fate of the man found out on the ridge," Sefarlain offered. "He may not be the only one to have met a strange death in this region. I am sure someone in this inn may know something. Perhaps a few drinks and some careful questions may loosen some tongues? And after that fine song, Cosher, starting a conversation will not be difficult!"

With that, Sefarlain stood up, put Alonwë back in her scabbard, and walked over to the bar to the hill dwarf who had bought their drinks.

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: Jasper's Surprise.

"Wow, the place is really filling up this morning," commented Jasper to Rayanne, his prettiest waitress by far.

"Yes sir, it looks like they're coming out of the woodwork or even the snow banks since the sun started shining. I'm not giving up my coat yet, Jas, but it won't be long now," Rayanne said with a smile just before another tray of drinks was handed to her and she deftly skipped off to do her job. The thirty-year old man watched her retreat, longingly looking at the short, pretty skirt she liked to wear and that showed off her long legs so perfectly and helped her earn more tips. Jasper was always glad when she wore that one - so were many of his patrons.

Turning around, Jasper began cleaning another empty tankard, aspiring to make it cleaner than his most recent thoughts, when that new dwarf almost magically appeared before him, grinning like a fool and bubbling with something most would call enthusiasm. The barkeep practically jumped out of his skin, as a guilty man might when caught red handed, but he quickly composed himself for no one knew what he had been thinking, and he always felt that a pretty good thing.

Next thing he knew it, the dwarf had talked him into letting him sing for no money, but suggested he'd deserve some of his finest ale for it.

*Oh great! Another wannabe singer,* he figured.

Jasper couldn't remember how many people had come to offer a song or a story. He tended to dwell instead on how often they couldn't play worth spit, or their voices cracked, or their stories were badly told or simply boring beyond words since that number far exceeded those who didn't make him sorry they had ever crossed his threshold. But no matter the talent, or lack thereof, they always had the audacity to think they had talent enough to share with HIS patrons. As if!

He wanted to tell the dwarf to get stuffed and just sit down and shut up, but that wouldn't go over well, he knew, even if he had been brave enough to suggest such a course of action. Besides, some patrons loved heckling those poor fools, and most didn't mind as long as the 'less than talented' didn't go on and on and on . . . like some bad dream or a nasty summer cold.

*And my 'finest' ale, at that,* he mentally scoffed. But in the end, he let the dwarf have his way and resigned himself to concentrating harder on cleaning the glassware than he really needed, fairly confident this new dwarf would go thirsty.

But the song. It was . . . well . . . good. His voice was great and had more than a little range to it, and the lyrics were fine too. Not as fine as the dwarf's voice, but pretty good. But would his customers like it? They were all clapping when Cosh finished, he saw. Maybe they were just glad he was done? Jasper wasn't always the best judge of such matters, he knew. Then he saw Rayanne, smiling over at the dwarf, and others were starting to say good things. They liked it, too.

"Barkeep, please send a round to the bard's table for me. A better song I have not heard in many a day. My friends and I will have another as well and I think another silver for yourself would be appropriate."

When the other dwarf threw him a gold piece, and Rayanne continued to smile despite her work, Jasper knew - one of his finest, coming up. A couple other patrons sending compliments and drinks to 'the bard' pretty much clinched it.

First the barkeep took care of Tyrulf's party.

*Three double ciders, three more as a round for the bard's table, and a tip,* he mentally calculated, arriving at a perfect 1 EP figure, all told. He counted out 9 EP for the dwarf and rang his sweet chime again.

"Thank you very much, sir," he said as he poured the trio doubles of hot cider. "I'll get the drinks to the bard's table right away," he finished, leaving Tyrulf the nine silvery, electrum coins in his wake.

Jasper poured the drinks and took them over to Cosher and the others himself.

"One large emerald whisky," he said, setting it before the bard. It was one of the finest whiskeys he carried - imported all the way from the Emerald Island in the Archipelago itself. Many thought it might be green, but its name had nothing to do with its color, which was not green, though it did come in a green glass bottle.

"That's from the small gentlemen and his large friend," he said, indicating Jeffrey who raised his pipe in salute to Cosher. "And these are three of the same your lot ordered when you first arrived, courtesy of the dwarven fellow at the bar drinking cider with his friends. And this, sir, if I do say so myself, is my finest," he said, placing a large pitcher of ale before them and setting three empty tankards along side it.

"You know, you're so talented, you could get mighty drunk here if you're not careful," he winked with a broad smile. Then he left them, happy the morning was turning out so well - not to mention the skirt.

- JimGM

PBEM Orlantia:

Afyanna sat at the table sipping her cider while Cosher entertained the inn. *He certainly is enjoying himself,* she chuckled to herself. *This is truly his element.* Afyanna herself was a more private person and not one to put on a big public display. She traveled in small circles mostly, preferring a steady group of people than a constantly evolving set of personalities. Cosher on the other hand, seemed to actively thrive on being the center of attention.

As she sat listening, Afyanna's eyes kept returning to the saber Sliobhann that Cosher had slid before them. *He offered up his aid without even knowing what is to be done.* She looked up and smiled as a particularly energetic portion of the song rolled around. *What a remarkable person.* Afyanna felt that she may be getting to like this Sea Dwarf, who in most respects represented the antithesis of her own personality.

Cosher finished his performance with a flourish and was greeted with applause and several small cheers from one particularly tipsy group in the corner.

"That was truly wonderful Cosher!" Afyanna said as he slid back to his seat. The innkeeper arrived moments later with several sets of drinks from admirers of Cosher's performance. She reached for a fresh cider and held it up to her cheek and smiled an acknowledgment to the dwarf the innkeeper pointed out as the provider.

Sefarlain then stood and withdrew his sword Alonwë. Afyanna stared at the beautifully runed blade as it reflected the firelight in all directions.

"That is truly a magnificent weapon, Sefarlain. A work of art, no less." He then proceeded to follow Cosher's example and pledge himself to the ill-defined quest, such as it was.

As the conversation turned toward their next step, Afyanna sat overwhelmed, sipping her cider.

"Corellon certainly works in odd ways," she said more to herself than anyone else.

"What's that?" Sefarlain asked.

Afyanna looked across the table at the two men.

"Corellon has brought all three of us together. For what purpose, I do not know." She took a sip of cider. "But since the moment of my vision, He has guided me at every step. He has provided avenues to proceed onward, even when the goal is unknown."

Afyanna looked to Cosher. "He said the fortunate Exador would greet me, and there you were the next morning." She smiled a bit remembering their first meeting where she nearly tripped before them. "And then He opened the way for me to travel in search of answers I don't yet even have questions for." Afyanna's eyes met Sefarlain's. "Then we arrived here, and found that you too were lead right to this very same town out of all the thousands in this wide world. It is clear to me that Corellon wills that we seek out these questions - and answers - together."

Afyanna unlatched her scabbard from its belt and laid it upon the table. "My sword is not one-tenth as fine as either of yours. It is a humble sword that I have carried with me since I joined the Mounted Alderami." Afyanna's face took on a radiant glow as she continued. "There are uncounted numbers just like it. But in Corellon's name, I pledge THIS sword to our cause."

The three of them raised their glasses in a small toast and sat in silence for a few moments. They were a team now. And a team needed a goal. Soon talk began anew and it wasn't long before Sefarlain provided the answer.

Sefarlain offered the suggestion they ask around about the man he had found now that Cosher put them in a good mood, and Cosher acknowledged his compliment with a wide grin. With that, Sefarlain stood up, put Alonwë back in her scabbard, and walked over to the bar to the hill dwarf who had bought their drinks.

Afyanna sat and pondered her newly minted quest, if it could be called that. She looked to Cosher who still sat across from her, though his expression seemed to indicate that he too might soon depart. *Then again, he may just be itching to sing again, too!* She smiled despite herself. At Cosher's questioning look she merely shook her head that it was nothing before adding, "Perhaps if others have been hurt or killed lately, the local temples would be aware." Cosher nodded in agreement.

Afyanna glanced out the nearest window and gauged the time. It was not quite midday yet, and she doubted very much that charging out into the cold evening would get them very far. "I doubt we will get much accomplished on our journey today," she said. Glancing over to where Sefarlain was chatting with the dwarven fellow she added, "Well, at least not much beyond anything we may find here tonight."

"I suggest we get rooms here for at least the night and start fresh in the morning." She sighed deeply, "I, for one, am going to get cleaned up before I head to the temple tomorrow. It's been far too long since I've had a decent bath!"

Afyanna finished her drink with Cosher and then excused herself from the table to see the innkeeper.

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia:

Afyanna conferred with the innkeeper, who introduced himself as Jasper, and settled on two nights at the inn in a nice room with access to a private bath. *If I'm only going to be here for a few days, I might as well be comfortable,* she had decided. Afyanna hefted her pack and started up the flight of stairs to the second floor.

She exited the wood-paneled staircase onto the second floor hall that had a 4-foot rug in front of each door. The hall was wide enough for two people to pass comfortably, but just barely. She quickly found her room and entered through the heavy wooden door.

With her footsteps muffled as she stepped from carpet to carpet, Afyanna crossed to the end of the hall to the only window in the entire hall. She stood at the window, and through clean glass she gazed across the street that ran before The Copper Keg and to the lake beyond. The clear winter sun was reflecting off the dazzling frozen water of the lake and it hurt her eyes to look at it for more than a few moments. *I've seen enough snow for a while,* she thought humorously and pulled the heavy wool curtain across the window.

Afyanna returned her attention to the room. To her right was a large overstuffed bed with thick pillows. To her left was a small wooden table with an accompanying wooden chair. At the foot of the bed was a heavier stuffed chair. Into this chair she plopped heavily and fished through her bag for a decent set of clothes.

A knock came on her door just as she found what she needed. "Miss?" came the young girl's voice from beyond. "Miss?" it came again, this time accompanied by another light knock.

Afyanna opened the door and peered out into the face of one of the inn servants. As she did so the girl stated, "Your bath is ready."

She retrieved her clean set of clothing and followed the girl to the bathing room. In the middle of the small room sat a medium sized brass tub with steam rising from the water within. Soap, a heavy towel, and a wash sponge sat on a small table next to the tub. Two buckets of hot water stood nearby. "This looks wonderful," she said aloud. The serving girl smiled and backed out of the room, closing the door. Afyanna locked the door once she was alone.

Afyanna stripped off her armor top, undershirt, pants, and underclothing and dumped them in a pile near the back of the room away from the door. She then dipped one foot into the tub and inhaled deeply at the touch of the hot water, slowly stepping all the way in and then bringing in her other leg. Afyanna slowly sat down into the hot water, letting her breath out in a long "Aaaahhhh!" as the water went higher and higher up her body. Once she was settled, she just lie back against the sloped back of the tub and let the heat leach the ache out of her muscles.

She lay like that for several long minutes until she could feel that the water wasn't as hot as when she began. With a heavy sigh that she couldn't stay like this for an eternity, Afyanna got the sponge and soap and scrubbed herself thoroughly. *This feels marvelous!* she thought. She hadn't had a decent hot bath since she boarded the ship. Still, as much as she had longed for one, she had forgotten just how wonderful it was to feel CLEAN!

Afyanna finished washing and stood up in the tub. The air felt frigid against her wet skin and soon goose pimples appeared all over. Using one of the buckets of warm water to rinse off, she then stepped out of the tub, finished. She dried quickly and dressed in her nicer pair of dark pants, white shirt, and her only pair of boots.

Afyanna carried a small chair over to the tub and sat facing the tub. With the soap and second bucket, she leaned over the tub to wash and rinse her shoulder length, raven hair. Now clean, dried, and dressed, Afyanna returned to her room. Once there, she continued to dry her hair. When the towel was too wet to be of any more use, she slicked her hair back with a brush.

Straightening her pants and shirt, Afyanna pushed her dirty clothing into a pile near the bed with her foot. She then strapped her sword to her side and stepped out into the hall. She locked her door, slid the key into a pocket, and headed down to rejoin her new partners.

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: Laundry Service.

Before getting too far, Afy bumped into the young miss - more of a girl, really, probably from the kitchens - and the youngster then asked, "Since you are staying more than a day, do you have any clothing you would liked washed, miss?"

This was a pleasant surprise for the halfelf, but perhaps it should not have been since the cost of two of her few remaining gold coins had been dear. But after weeks aboard the Exador, it was all worth it. Besides, what was the point of getting all cleaned up if you were just going to put on soiled garments again? Gratefully, she returned to her room and gathered up most of her garments to give to the girl.

"I'll get these back when?" Afyanna asked, thinking it prudent to make sure it would be timely enough for her needs.

"Oh, I'll do them tonight after supper, and they'll dry overnight. It's usually best if you wait 'till noon, though, so they are nice and dry, but if you'd like them sooner that'll be fine." The girl waited for Afy's decision.

"No, no, noon will be OK," the holy warrior said, though she had no true notion of what her schedule might eventually be. Still, if rushed, she could get by with what she had on - and her armor and its padding, which she chose to leave locked up in her room for the time being.

Afyanna watched the girl disappear down the backstairs that the warrior now guessed must lead into the back kitchen area. Pleased she was getting her money's worth - or more than she thought at first - she then proceeded to retrace her steps and soon found herself back in the common room and bar.

Apparently, since she had left, Sefarlain and Cosher had engaged in conversation with another dwarf, a simple looking pilgrim, and a priest, by the look of them.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: An Opportunity Arrives.

As Sefarlain stood up, he had a chance to survey the bar properly. Many of the tables had small groups of men and women talking and laughing over plates of steaming food and beer. A low fog created by the fire and smoking pipes hung over the room. It gave the inn a warm, familiar smell.

*This place must hear some stories,* mused the elf. *Surely someone here can help us.*

The hill dwarf had been at the bar for some time, if the number of empty glasses surrounding him was any reflection of time. The barman was busy cleaning some of the empties behind the deep wooden counter. To Sefarlain's inexperienced eyes he seemed pleased with how the morning was going, humming to himself as he worked. A vast array of jars and bottles filled the many shelves behind the bar. It was testament to the popularity of The Copper Keg. The dwarf looked up and smiled, clearly still enamored by Cosher's fine performance.

"I must thank you for the drink," said Sefarlain, indicating his full glass. The two lapsed into general conversation about the bar and Cosher, when Sefarlain noticed the tattoo on the cleric's arm. "That's a nice tattoo," he remarked. Realization slowly spread across the elf's face. It was the mark of Boccob. This fellow must be a mage of some kind! The dwarf saw his expression and seemed eager to discuss the mark and the conversation became much more earnest. Something about travel - mining came into it - and lots about the tattoo and the Arcane.

Sefarlain was delighted! This was more than he could have wished for. But soon, despite the longing to discuss Arcana with this man, the pledge with his friends began to play on his mind. And then it happened.

An opportunity - or a sign; it depended on how you looked at these things. But during the excited talk of magic, the dwarf distinctly mentioned a library - possibly a great library. And Sefarlain could think of nowhere better to start the investigation of this 'Wrath' than at a great big library.

*I must tell the others!* he thought. *This fellow may be able to help us already.*

"Would you mind if one of my companions or myself accompanied you to this library?" Sefarlain asked innocently. "We have some research to carry out." At this point, Cosher appeared at Sefarlain's side to hear the last request die on his lips. He looked at Sefarlain and raised an eyebrow.

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: A sage's wisdom

Tyrulf watched as the bard's friend came up to him and thanked him for the drinks.

"I have just recently arrived in town and your friend's song was a welcome diversion. My name is Tyrulf," he said, motioning toward his two new friends, "and this is Valin and Mystir."

The two men greeted the newcomer while Tyrulf rambled on, talking about his brief travels. While speaking, Tyrulf noticed that Sef look at Boccob's symbol tattooed on his arm, even saying it was a nice tattoo.

Tyrulf smiled wide while replying, "Yes, I am traveling the world trying to show those uninitiated about the many uses of magic. Do you practice, yourself?"

At this time Mystir interjected, saying, "Tyrulf, it is getting late. Perhaps we should go to Shereef's before too long."

The elven man looked strangely at Mystir for a second, but quickly composed himself "Shereef, you say? Who might this be?"

"Well, the barkeep told Tyrulf of a local sage, and we were going to see him," replied Mystir.

The elf looked genuinely pleased at this bit of information, and then invited himself to tag along, probably hoping no one would object.

"Well, I don't see why not," answered Tyrulf while looking at Valin and Mystir. "Unless one of you disagree."

- MJA (Tyrulf)

PBEM Orlantia: The Road To Shereef.

New acquaintances were . . . tricky. You never knew who you were dealing with, what ulterior motives they might have - if any - how much they might disclose of themselves or keep hidden, and ultimately, just how far to trust them.

Logic often proved fruitless in such cases. There was little knowledge to assess and therefore little upon which to base any firm conclusions. Often most people simply judged a book by its cover, and in this case that meant broad racial stereotypes came into play, no matter how groundless, no matter how stupid, they lingered at the back of one's mind as an ever-present question - is this, whatever, just another one of those, whatevers?

Did all dwarves trust each other? Were all halfelves similarly banded together in common purpose? Did these elves and dwarves distrust each other, maybe even harbor buried hatreds? Did the elf think himself superior to the others? Was the human a greedy and deceitful person, just waiting for an opportunity to betray new comrades, or was he honest as the day was long? Who knew for sure?

Whatever the case, they didn't say much apart from making small but tentative plans to go to some unknown library together - apparently for two or more different purposes.

So they remained . . . 'guarded,' for the time being. The one called Sefarlain had said their traveling companion would be down in under an hour, judging from his own experiences with the 'facilities' at the inn. Then they would go.

Mystir retired to his room, mostly to secure his spellbook and notes and other equipment. Valin didn't feel the need to return to the castle yet, so he nursed his cider and thought about a certain lovely seamstress. Tyrulf paid 5 EP for a room of his own, just to clean up and adjust himself, but that did not take long. Cosher did the same, though he took more time at it - mostly out of necessity - for unlike Tyrulf, he had been at sea for three weeks.

Still, in under an hour's time, they were all back at the bar discussing Shereef's library, again in guarded sentences perhaps short of full disclosure. No point in revealing everything to total strangers, after all, and there was little reason to think the other group cared or would stay with them later. It was mere chance they all could all find questions for a sage, and not really that remarkable, either.

Yet sages charged money for information. That was their trade, their craft, and their livelihood. How much would he charge? General knowledge sages didn't come so dear as special knowledge sages, most had heard, but then their knowledge was general and not overly detailed. It was, however, surprisingly broad in scope. So if they couldn't find out what they wanted to know from him, chances are they could at least be directed to someone who 'probably' knew more about the topic of interest. Even then, it would still cost something.

Without wishing to go into complete detail, however, after they had reformed, the conversation soon became uneasy - almost uncomfortable for lack of substance. It was as if they had little to say to one another. Either that, or they were just uncertain what they could say, should say, or more importantly, what they shouldn't say, and they resigned themselves to waiting for the halfelven lady while sipping their cider.

Slowly, somewhere again at the back of their minds, racial profiles suggested themselves, and appearances began to make first impressions in the vacuum of more substantive offerings. But they kept their thoughts to themselves while waiting for Afyanna's return. Yet, firm conclusions were not met. After all, whether they knew it or not, they had a lot of things in common, and one of those things was the training to carefully assess information and not jump to hasty conclusions - whether in battle or in life - for such folly could get one killed. No one had made up their minds just then, except about wanting to go to Shereef's.

Thankfully it was not long after Cosher's own return that Afyanna finally came downstairs, and then the new group of six sage seekers and library lookers gathered their gear, thanked their host, and began the small trek toward the tower works.

A few blocks later, just as Jasper had said, just as Valin had reassured, they saw the three-story structure rising before their eyes as they approached it. White, like the snow upon the ground blown into little drifts along the building's foundations, the marble gleamed in the noontime sunlight. Shadows were short, nearly nonexistent directly beneath them.

The tower's base was circular, perhaps 70 feet in its diameter, and its perimeter was column after column, each pair with an arch built above them and forming the foundation for the next level. It was impressive looking, though barely begun. 20 years, Jasper had said, until it would be done. What would it look like in that time? What would they look like in that time? No matter.

Kitty corner and across the plaza there stood a small one-story flat built of blue-gray stone. Shereef's place even bore a shingle, a sign bearing his name and some crest or family standard - a crowned unicorn, it seemed, beneath which the golden letters proclaimed 'Nick Shereef - G.K.S.'

*G.K.S.? General Knowledge Sage, of course,* most of them thought.

The front walk was a series of flagstones, also blue-gray, though darker, probably dirtier, than the building itself. The heavy iron banded wooden door looked sturdy and could probably hold off a battering ram for quite some time. Or, that is to say, it could if it hadn't been ajar already. Cautiously, Afyanna knocked lightly.

"Hello?" she said timidly, pushing the door open further to get a better look.

Inside she saw an old man, perhaps in his 70's, looking back at her.

"Hello," he smiled back. "And who might you be?"

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia:

"My name is Afyanna d'Enthril," the halfelven woman replied with a small nod of respect. She opened the door a little more to expose her partners. "We've come seeking the Sage, Shereef. If you are he, and have time for us, we'd like to make use of your services." Afyanna interlaced her fingers together lightly at her waist, her hands well away from her sword. She didn't wish to appear to be a band of brigands standing in this poor man's doorway. "If you are not, would you be so kind to direct us to him?"

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: Uncle Fess

"Who? Me? Oh my, no deary, no no no. I am not the one you seek. Not for a long time now." The old man fell silent, looking at the group of armed individuals, an obvious band of adventurers. A moment of staring passed before a look of embarrassment crossed his face.

"Oh my, deary dear. Nick would be ashamed I let you all stand out in the cold. Please forgive my lack of manners. Won't you please come in? Get close to the fire. It may be warming up outside for a brief spell, but it's still very cold. And thank you for shutting the door. I carelessly left it open just now," he said, brandishing a brass key. "I came looking for Nicky myself, but he isn't here at the moment. Not as far as I can see, but my eyes are mighty poor these days."

The old man stepped closer to the group as they ventured inside and shut of door as 'requested,' cutting off the sunlight as they did this, wherein it became obvious the hallway and room beyond were somehow illuminated beyond what one would expect from the fireplace. Magic.

Upon reaching the group, he eyed them up and down. "Ah, yes . . . Adventurers, pilgrims, on a mission for the queen, is it? Perhaps you seek wisdom about some map or tome that's crossed your path? I remember, it's all very exciting, yes, I remember. I used to be a practicing sage myself, but, well . . . time. It creeps up on you, and you can only afford to put it off with magic for so long. My tired eyes could dearly use another fix, oh yes, truly they could use another spell to make my last years more enjoyable, but I haven't been able to afford that in years. Well, no never mind. I can still see well enough. I just need . . . a little help from my nephew now and again with fine detail," he said, pulling out a small tome from his pack and glaring at it disapprovingly.

"My Nicky should be back soon, wherever he has gone. He left a fire burning, after all, and dirty dishes in the basin. He'd never be gone long and do that, now would he?" he asked, almost seeking confirmation in his own conclusions.

"We'll all just have to wait, yes dears, truly, we'll just have to wait." And with that, the man plopped himself down into an oversized stuffed plush red velvet chair by the fire that looked very comfortable.

There were two similar chairs nearby, obviously for visitors, and a couch along the wall that could accommodate four others.

"What do you want my Nicky for, anyway?" he asked.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia:

Afyanna took her cue from the retired sage and she crossed the room to a plush velvet chair. The room was well lit but not overly bright. The fireplace cracked and popped in the small hearth. Two smaller doorways lead off from the sitting room.

As she sat, Afyanna's eyes washed over the large bookcases lining the walls, each behind their hinged glass doors.

*Probably protection from dust or popping embers,* she thought. She could make out dozens and dozens of books of many sizes and thicknesses, rolled up papers, cases, idols, and other trinkets. Afyanna was no scholar, but even she was amazed at what must be a wealth of knowledge in just this room.

*And this old man, what must he know after all this time?* she wondered.

"Well sir, 'adventurers' sounds far more romantic," she chuckled. "But in truth, we are no more than a few people who happened to hear of a sage nearby." The old man smiled and nodded a little. "Most of us hadn't even met before this morning."

Afyanna motioned to Cosher and Sefarlain. "We three seek a bit of information about a vision I had recently, and about a dead man that was discovered." She turned to indicate the rest of the party. "These gentlemen . . . ," she trailed off. "Actually, I do not know what they seek," she laughed.

"If I may be so bold, sir, if the sign out front refers to your nephew Nick, then how should I address you?"

- Rick (Afyanna)

PBEM Orlantia: Questions Unanswered

The past hour had seemed a little awkward to the group, not to mention Sefarlain himself, who had not seen so much company in months. He had felt uneasy around so many strangers, particularly in the cramped surroundings of the bar. If the truth were known, he was quite glad to see Afyanna return and their subsequent walk to the tower.

The others in their new gathering kept their distance while they walked, as if sizing one another up. Conversation was brief and perfunctory.

*Certainly don't seem like old friends to me,* thought the elf. *I wonder what brings them all together?*

By the time they arrived at Shereef's, things were a bit easier. Cosher had started chatting away to the other dwarf, and even Sef had given a cursory nod to the halfelf, Mystir. Once they arrived at the tower, Sefarlain found himself gravitating towards Cosher and Afyanna again and the group seemed to separate slightly, as if unsure of one another's intentions.

Afyanna did not seem bothered by such uncertainty, and once she told the old man of her vision, some of the tension left the room.

Sefarlain exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Cosher, and then found himself looking at the others.

*What WERE they here for?*

- Justin (Sefarlain)

PBEM Orlantia: Three Lights.

'Uncle' Fess pondered the question for a moment, considering his answer, as if, somehow, his title was a difficult question to answer.

"Well, little lady, I'm still a sage, no matter how old I get. But after retirement, I no longer go by the title of 'Sage Fess Vestry.' Mr. Vestry, I guess, or just Fess to my friends. You can call me Fess if you like, deary. Now Nicky, my sister's boy, still bears the proud title of sage. Oh, deary dear. Perhaps none of you had better call him Nicky. He doesn't like it much - not for a long time. Takes a little after his dad that way. My, silly me, here I am going on about family matters that could scarcely concern you folk." Fess adjusted himself in the chair to get comfortable again before he continued.

"So, you had a vision and you found a body? In that order? Wait!" he exclaimed. "Maybe you had better wait for Nicky - unless you don't mind talking to an old man. But if anything you wish to discuss must be held in confidence, you had better wait for my nephew. Oh dear, yes, you had better wait anyway, come to think of it."

Just then from one of those smaller doors emerged a far younger man carrying a bundle of scrolls covering his face, but when he plopped them down on the old desk, one could clearly see the youngster's face. Now it looked odd, if this were the Sage, Nick Shereef, for he seemed barely fifteen years of age. Before one could speculate too long on the matter, though, a middle aged man appeared from the last door, paying little attention to his surroundings while brushing himself free of dust and cobwebs. When he looked up, he stopped short in his tracks, a look of surprise crossing his visage.

"Oh, Nicky. There you are, my boy," said his uncle. "We've got visitors. Well . . . customers - with a few questions, by the look of them. This little lady here had a vision and found a dead body, and the others . . ." he trailed off again as if lost in thought. "I'm sorry. What was it you others wanted to ask? Oh deary dear, perhaps you do not wish to mix the matters?"

Nick Shereef rolled his eyes and frowned a bit as the old man went on, but he said nothing at first until the old sage had finished speaking. When Fess had finished, Shereef spoke.

"Welcome to my home," he began, but then stopped when he noticed the boy stifling a laugh. "I must apologize for no one being here to greet you, but I had assured young Skylar there only a . . . well . . . let's say I expressed my belief at the low order of probability anybody would be showing up today in this cold and so felt free for both of us to be . . . elsewhere. Bygones."

"Uncle," he said moving over to the chair. His uncle arose and moved to the couch, holding up the book he had brought and winking at him, the single word 'later' having escaped his lips.

The sage settled down in his 'consulting' chair where one could clearly see only that chair's vantage point commanded the entire room from its unique position.

"Now then, what's this about a vision? What vision? And what body? And more importantly, what do you wish of me, exactly?"

While he had been asking those questions, he eyed Skylar who apparently took some cue to leave the room after closing one door, then the other door behind him as he exited. Now the band of adventurers, Fess, and Nick Shereef remained, bathed in the warm, bright, golden light that came from a small fixture attached to the ceiling, and flickering firelight from the hearth, and the magic lamp that stood upon the large desk, which contributed its own incandescent blue hue to the room's lighting.

- JimGM.

PBEM Orlantia: New Friends

Cosher was still trying to get his head 'round the events of the day as he squeezed onto the couch in the sage's room. Since Afyanna had taken one of the seats next to the sage, he thought it best that one of the 'newcomers' - as he was calling those who had joined Afyanna, Sefarlain and himself - take the other, in order to ask his own questions.

Cosher was more than confident at Afyanna's ability to deal with the sage. Her manner with people - especially strangers - was excellent, and although he usually preferred to take control of situations like this personally, in this instance he was happy to defer to the halfelven lady. Besides, her desire to find out more about this place 'Wrath' that she kept talking about seemed very strong.

However, Cosher had a question of his own, and if Afyanna failed to mention it, he might have to contribute himself, or 'subtly' remind his companion as to what he wanted to know. The question he had in mind was of course that of the Exador's safe arrival in Liothele, and that mysterious 'guiding light.'

Of course, that wasn't all that was running through Cosher's head. Everything was going along so quickly right now, and he was now sitting on a couch next to Sefarlain - an elf he had barely met but to whom he had already offered Sliobhann - and two relative strangers.

*Ah'm sure everyone's a wee bit stressed out at the moment. Personally, Ah don't want tae make too many judgments on any o' them till Ah get tae know them all a wee bit better. But for now they all seem genuine enough. And that Tyrulf, Ah think he'll be okay. Never really got a chance to say hello on the way here, or thank him for the round o' drinks, but Ah will do so soon. Ah'd like to compare tattoos with the wee man - Ah'm sure he's got some crackers!*

Just as Cosher began to rue all those drinks he could have 'earned' back in the 'Keg,' the young boy had left the room and the sage had addressed them all and asked his questions.

Cosher looked at Afyanna and Sefarlain expectantly, and with more than a hint of excitement. This adventuring lark was still new to him and he couldn't help wondering if this was the start of some heroic quest!

- Johnny (Cosher)

PBEM Orlantia: An uncle, a sage and a boy

Mystir entered the small room and quickly observed his surroundings. *Not a bad collection,* he thought to himself as he saw the items about the room.

As the elven lady began to speak with the older human, Mystir took a spot against a wall - a position where he could observe most of the room's occupants at once. Placing the end of his staff where the wall met the floor, he lightly leaned against the wall while nodding to himself and peered about the room while listening to the conversation between the two.

When another door to the room opened, Mystir peered beyond the boyish figure and into the room beyond.

*A load of information must be stored back there,* he thought to himself. Then a second figure entered the room and Mystir attempted another glance into another room, and then focused back on the room's newest occupants.

*So,* the young wizard thought to himself, *he is an uncle, he is the sage, but who is the boy?* Mystir once again looked beyond the door as the boy left the room, and again his focus went back to the sage and the sage's uncle.

- Kevin (Mystir)

PBEM Orlantia: The tri-hearth.

Done in stone rather than bricks, the fireplace, or hearth, was well stoked with a good fire. Mystir noticed as he observed the room that the flames wavered significantly when doors were opened or closed, as if a breeze was permitted to blow through the fireplace itself. Then he saw how it was arranged.

In a central supporting wall, the great work of stone was more than a mantle piece - sort of like an arch supporting a stone shelf on this side, but it funneled up into the chimney from there. Below that, the hearth's floor was merely an open space and stone pit. If the fire had not been inside it, one could walk into either room beyond the one they were already in and avoid using the doors altogether. Apparently this one fireplace served for all three rooms.

*No doubt each room contains its own supply of firewood and pokers and other typical implements for tending fires,* he thought, for that's what he'd do for the sake of convenience. No matter what room you were in, the same fireplace served your needs and you didn't need to travel to another room to stoke it or feed it, or have to build more than one fire at a time.

The boy had emerged from, and returned to what appeared to be a kitchen area, judging from what Mystir had glimpsed beyond the lad. Shereef had come from the other room on the right, but that was considerably darker and harder to make out. Logic suggested, however, it must be the sleeping area, probably with its own door leading into the kitchen as well. That seemed about the extent of it, and from outward appearances the structure seemed to be just about three rooms and no more.

*Where . . . ? Surely, one doesn't keep scrolls in a kitchen?* Mystir thought to himself. *And if they came from the bedroom, why take them into the kitchen first before bringing them in here when there is a more direct route?* he wondered.

Mystir often asked himself questions like that, but he normally didn't follow up on them, unless, of course, there was a more important reason other than idle curiosity, or other reasons took him near those answers anyway.

- JimGM.