Log: Broken Blade: Felwood Fallout

Date	Title	People	Location
May 10, 2015	Log: Broken Blade: Felwood Fallout	Kyson, Godwyn, Symar, Aldean and Aevarr	Fernwood Pub

Kyson is seated at one of the small tables in the back. With only three sides and three chairs it's faintly triangular though the points are all rounded to make it easier for people to use it. One of the chairs is pushed out so that Kyson's haversack can rest upon it while he sips on a mug of weak ale. The novice mage flips through a small book while occasionally adding a flick of a graphite point here and there - as though he were sketching.

She's become a familiar face as of late, the Sentinel.

Godwyn makes her way toward a certain table in the room to a fairly oblivious wizard. She pulls out one of the chairs with deliberate slowness, then sits as quietly as she can. It's not long before she leans forward and tries to peer at what he's drawing.

Kyson doesn't immediately notice the arrival of the Althean but, as soon as she moves in to examine what he's drawing does he react. The movements aren't so much as jerky as they are startled; he was off in his own world. The page before him is an illustration of the clawfoot plant that he was collecting in the felwood yesterday. The bulb-like bloom has been given a wash of watered-down red ink; staining the boy's fingers a little. "Afternoon, m'lady..." Kyson offers while finishing up the last few strokes with his pen.

Godwyn chuckles. "Yeah, I'm never going to get tired of that." A mischievous Paladin. What has the world come to? The Sentinel clears her throat. "Clawfoot plant. That the thing that attacked you?"

The light rain pattering on the windows outside briefly slants into the edge of the doorway as the door opens again, this time to admit a tall man, entirely bald and entirely wet and seeming to particularly care about neither. Aldean hums in a cheerful baritone voice, the tune for those who know it a rather ribald drinking song, and lets the door fall closed behind him as he saunters in the direction of the bar.

"Not quite" a golem grumbles, approaching the table. It remains standing, and glances over when the humming man enters. It looks Kyson up and down and notes in its soft, monotone voice "You seem to be in better shape than yesterday." Then it turns and looks at Godwyn, with an approximation of curiousity on its face. "I am called Symar" It says, extending the smaller of its two hands.

Kyson looks up and spies the Golem and smiles to his recent companion. "M'lady - Symar here was with me when we were attacked at the edge of the Felwood. He...well I hate to use the word 'it'...was very helpful." Once finished with his sketch he cleans off the tip of his pen with a scrap of cloth kept in his scribe's kit. On this wonderfully, rainy day he's content to catch up with his journaling. "How are you two doing?"

For now, the newcomer seems to be quite intent on acquiring food and drink ... at least as much the latter as the former. The whistled drinking song turns briefly into a trill on his way over to the bar; he makes a gesture, and most of the soddenness of his clothing vanishes. It's not perfect, but it's a pretty good start.

Once he reaches the bar itself, he leans one elbow casually against it; although the conversation's kept relatively low, it's easy enough to read -- coin exchanges hands, and a moment later, a large mug is produced by the barkeep and filled. The man takes this and sips from it, looking around the room perhaps a bit smugly as he waits for something else.

What better way to spend a fair morning than enjoying hearty repast and libations? What better place to do so than a pub? Whilst there are many options available, the Fernwood offers a welcome balance: more quaint and sawdust than some of the more exclusive estabilshments, and less threat of random bodily harm as the more ...common. Thus Aevarr arrives and makes his way to the bar to request a mug of drink and a bowl of stew.

"You didn't answer the Lady's question" Symar notes to Kyson. Then it heads to the bar and begins speaking to the barkeep. A bowl is produced and filled with water and Symar heads back to the table, bowl in oversized hand. "So. What is Clawfoot good for? I hope we got enough." It pulls a piece of cloth out of a bag slung over its shoulder and drops the bundle in the water.

Kyson shakes his head, "No no," he corrects and shows the woman the plant's sketch. "it was something that I had to collect for my master. They're quite handy in alchemical research and... other remedies." With that he finishes cleaning up his scribal gear and packs the case away into his satchel. "Next time I'll make sure to strap on a full suit of armor before I start to pick some plants."

As Aevarr approaches the bar, Aldean looks up from where he's about to sample from that mug, and lowers it, flashing the other man an easy and cheerful grin instead. "Oy. Ain't seen ye in weeks, mate. Fair winds to ye."

As Aevarr approaches the bar, Aldean looks up from where he's about to sample from that mug, and lowers it, flashing the other man an easy and cheerful grin instead. "Oy. Ain't seen ye in weeks, mate. Fair winds to ye."

Aevarr claims a stool, receives his mug, sips therefrom, and then lifts the same lightly to Aldean in salute. "Indeed," he smiles, "my affairs have kept me occupied as of late. Greetings and salutations, my friend. Your own winds are fare, I trust?"

Godwyn pauses for a moment as she considers, then grins. "That... is vague at best, Kyson." She shakes her head. "But never mind. I'm sure he has his reasons for sending you after it. But more importantly, yes. Perhaps being a bit more prepared next time is advisable." She sits back in her chair. "So they're in Myrrdion, are they? When are you going?"

"What this about Myrridion?" Symar asks, watching the bowl. It tugs at the edges of the clothing and the water begins taking on a brown tinge as it unwraps a stone or some such. It glances up at the two men at the bar for a moment before turning to look at Kyson. "Though I might note you could have some difficulty if you wore a full suit of plate mail. Where would you even get such a thing anyway?" it adds.

Given that the bard is entirely bald, it's easy to surmise that things have been ... interesting. Aldean chuckles and shakes his head. "Oh aye. Busy like yerself. War might be good fer profit, but it plays merry hells with yer free time." The remark is accompanied by an easy laugh. "That an' a few jobs on the side ... done a couple now fer some wizard in Rune as managed to get hisself turned into a cat."

The young apprentice shrugs his shoulders a bit and leans back to stretch a bit before leaning forward, resting his elbows upon the table. "Master Cesran has duties for me for a few more days but then I should be free to go. He said that he would help cover the cost of my trip if I were to make some deliveries for him. Good news - I doubt that I'd be able to afford the trip on my own." With Symar's question he turns his attention to the Golem and explains, "I am returning the fragments of a Rune Blade; an heirloom of my family...I think." He stammers a second and then adds, "Well, I'm fairly certain they're family at least, and as for the armor - I think I'm going to start out with learning how to hold something more than my wand..."

Aevarr looses a chuckle. "Aye. Wizards can be a strange lot. I recently had the pleasure of rescuing one from his own servants. It seems that he created a number of rather wel-formed feminine automatons to attend to his ...household needs." His smile broadens. "He was found secured within a closet, unbeknownst to his maids. I fear that their attentiveness became to great for his tolerance." A wink trails.

Symar shrugs. "I'll stick to my claws..." It turns to Aevarr and gazes silently at him. Then it shakes its head, muttering something about crazy humans, before turning its attention back to the bowl.

Aldean listens in silence to Aevarr's tale, but when the punchline is reached, he throws his head back with a bark of delighted laughter, obviously deeply amused. "Great shining gates, can't even make a woman as'll not nag ye to death, can ye?" More laughter lingers between the words, an he fights to get them out, leaning against a support pole at a corner of the bar. Finally, his mirth subsides. "Oughta teach him, then. I'll be stickin' to the real thing fer meself."

Aldean listens in silence to Aevarr's tale, but when the punchline is reached, he throws his head back with a bark of delighted laughter, obviously deeply amused. "Great shining gates, can't even make a woman as'll not nag ye to death, can ye?" More laughter lingers between the words, an he fights to get them out, leaning against a support pole at a corner of the bar. Finally, his mirth subsides. "Oughta teach him, then. I'll be stickin' to the real thing fer meself."

Another chuckle from Aevarr. "I was more concerned of the splinters, myself." An exagerrated wince and another sip from his mug. "Now, now, I would dare not be so coarse to the fairer sex. They are the rules of all things, afterall." Another wink, before he appears to note glances his way.. or perhaps it's by chance. The gazer receives a lifted brow of inquiry.

Kyson corrects Godwyn, "Well...I do know -one- thing about swords," he pauses for dramatic, if comedic effect, "...the pointy end goes into the target." Ok, it was a lousy joke but the boy was trying; give him credit. "Have you ever been to the Myrrish states? I have to go to Selentia - what they call the 'Land of a Thousand Princes'." His voice as elevated slightly so that anyone nearby could hear his question as well. "Supposed to be a huge center of trade - who knows what we could find there."

The Sentinel blinks for a moment... then sports a grimace. "Then you will definitely need me. That place is one big chess board."

"Aye, I'll not deny ye there ... an' they know it, too. Jes' ask 'em." Aldean seems to have recovered somewhat from his laughter, although the dark eyes dance with amusement still. "Least, they rule them as ain't see through their wiles." He, too, looks over where Aevarr is looking, curiously, taking a long pull from his mug.

It's about this time that the barkeep emerges from the back with a steaming plate of a goose stew atop thick bread. He sets down his mug and takes this item with a grin of thanks, pulls up a nearby stool, and begins to tuck in.

Aevarr catches the Myrrish mention and the lady's response. "Aye, my dear," he calls out. "Who better to tame a land of princes than a princess?" His own bowl arrives soon after Aldean's, though he leaves it for now.

Godwyn smiles and folds her arms. "Flattery will get you everywhere with proper application. I can't quite tell how appropriate that particular instance was, though." She glances toward Kyson. "I'll navigate through the sharks to find the dolphins. You stay close to me, and we'll be all right."

Aldean looks up from the first bite of his food as a familiar voice answers Aevarr. "Yer a brave man, mate. I ain't mess with paladins," he tells the inquisitor in a low tone. A chuckle accompanies that, but he does set down his eating utensils and look up to find the source of the voice.

Kyson nods, "Maybe I'll be able to pick up a Myrrish sword or something while we're there," he jests and mimics some bit of fantastical sword play with a swish of his finger - as though he knew what he would be doing with it. "I expect that we'll be there for a few days. I can -hope- that the House will offer us accommodations but can't be certain of that." He sighs a faint bit at the thought, a hint of tension crawling up and out through his voice. "Master said that I should book passage on one of the Myrrish air-ships; faster way to get there and, the expense usually limits the exposure one has to...thieves."

"Verily!" Aevarr concurs with Godwyn, lifting his mug in salute to her. "If any wish some aid in that regard, I am oft available..." He turns back to Aldean with a wry grin. "The most fearsome opportunities are also the most worthwhile, I daresay. As well, you should not judge others on profession alone."

A low snort is Aldean's first response, although the amusement is still there. He keeps his voice down, though. "If ye ever take a fightin' woman inta yer bed, mate, ye'll find out why." His grin brightens further, but he raises a hand to Godwyn and Kyson. "Oy, ain't see the pair of ye over there. Fair winds to the both o' ye."

She clears her throat and straightens her back. "Naturally. I figure I could use a break from Alexandria anyway." She turns her beaming smile toward Aldean. "Well there he is! Where have you been, sir?" She tilts her head to the right. "Gallivanting off with some strange women, perhaps?"

Aevarr now lifts a brow at Aldean, which pulls the corner of his mouth up further as if attached. "There is naught amiss with blunt, direct, and physical in many situations. That is no different there." Upon Godwyn's query, he turns back to her with a chuckle. "Likely, in my humble opinion, though such is not always a negative."

The wizardling's face blushes a faint reddish hue as comments were made about him taking a fighting woman to bed. Yeah - he's not exactly 'skilled' in every area of life. One of his first instructors even had him make a delivery to one of the pleasure houses in the city just to humiliate him. The thought doesn't bring a happy thought to mind. Tilting his head to the side, owl-like, he watches the exchange between Godwyn and Aldean curiously. Older people are so...strange.

For answer, Aldean just chuckles, opting to cut the racy remarks and replace them instead with a broad grin. "Would it had been so sweet, lass," he answers, running his hand unconsciously over a head that is again bald. "Na, I get talking cats an' earth shamans. Had to make a journey into Dran," he explains briefly. "An' I ain't heard from the sith neither," he adds, shrugging, then adds with a grin that holds much of mischief. "Why ye ask, lass?"