Gonna give it a lil try- RP

Lady Ta'Marilyn toyed with her wine glass as she sat wondering why she was even in such a tavern. There was nothing here to fulfill her desire to quest for her Lady Firehair and besides that the place was really starting to smell awful.

She was about to tell her squire that it was time to leave when another figure walked through the door. He was a handsome man, though marred by the signs of battle. He spoke of cargo and orcs and his desperate plea for help. Surely this was it. Lady Firehair sent him to cross the young paladin's path for some strange and wondrous reason. Perhaps his cargo was so precious to him because it was something for his dearly beloved and he did not wish to lose it to the evil of the orcs. Perhaps this was a simple quest to rid the world of a certain speck of ugliness. Lady Ta'Marilyn did not know why Sune had sent this man to her but she knew she must heed the call.

"Squire," she whispered to Daisy, "I do believe that he is the very reason we are here. I cannot ascertain why it must be him exactly, but I am most certain that I can feel Our Lady's calling on this matter. We must help him in what ever ways we can!" She gestured toward the man now sitting near the stage. "Let us offer him our services."

Orcs. Nasty, filthy creatures. The lady would certainly need to replace nearly everything that came within a foot of the beasts!

Daisy glanced over at Ian, taking notice of his expression. Likely it was coincidence that this wounded warrior had burst in offering gold for services...or was it? Maybe Mr. Annatar really did know something of the future. The halfling filed that thought away for a later time. It seemed they were on their way to grand adventure!

"Squire," she whispered to Daisy, "I do believe that he is the very reason we are here. I cannot ascertain why it must be him exactly, but I am most certain that I can feel Our Lady's calling on this matter. We must help him in what ever ways we can!" She gestured toward the man now sitting near the stage. "Let us offer him our services."

"Of course, m'lady."

Picking up the paladin's half full glass of wine, she walked over to the table where the wounded man was directing interested patrons. Daisy pulled out a chair for Ta'Marilyn and set the glass down before making the introductions.

"Good sir!," she addressed Engersol loudly, "This is the Lady Ta'Marilyn Ahnalisa Amerilliss Mour, Noble Paladin of Our Lady Firehair, Champion of Goodness and Virtue. Her Beauty is unmatched, both within and without, that much is obvious, but the Lady is also very skilled in the arts of battle, and she has seen fit to add her sword to your cause!"

Daisy was always prompt and thorough to a fault. Lady Ta'Marilyn was proud to have such a squire in her service!
As she got up to make her way to the stage she noticed Master Annatar sitting alone at his table. Her heart took pity on the man with no direction. May it be that she be the one to inspire him to a better life. She wound her way toward him while making her way to the stage. "Master Annatar," Lady Ta'Marilyn said with a smile, "Adventure awaits. One should not be left sitting here. I pray that I may call upon your "services" now, that we may help this gallant man."

Noting the fanfare of the Lady's squire, Tolian contented himself with being silent. Better to listen and learn of his more boisterous company. Almost without thinking about it, he pulled out chairs for the Lady & her squire. It occurred to him quite suddenly that it was still sometimes unconscious of him to fall back into the habits that were severely trained into him as a slave. He thought for a moment about it, and decided this wasn't a bad trait. However he'd have to remain vigilant not to allow himself to fall into his old roles. He'd have to be more careful, indeed.

He remained standing & waited patiently for the ladies to make their way to the table to finally have a seat.

Ian's eyes lit up with excitement. It worked! He nearly knocked over his mug as he went to stand up, but quick hands caught it. He cursed his own impetousness. He hadn't succeeded yet, he reminded himself. The game has just begun. Now he would have to meet everyones expectations. He hoped he didn't raise the bar to high.

Trying to collect himself, he gathered his belongings and walked purposefully towards the Paladin. When he reached her, he found himself a bit disappointed. What he saw in her eyes wasn't the respect he was going for. It was something else that he didn't recognize.

Still, he reconciled with himself. She had called to him. He was attached to the Paladin's party. Most importantly Lady Ta'Marilyn Ahnalisa Amerilliss Mour, undoubtably thought it was entirely her own idea. There was some satisfaction in that.

"M'Lady, Thank you for the offer." He bowed low trying to keep the excitement from his face. "Let us see what this adventure has in store for us."

The dwarf tried to tune them out. The rodents constantly bickered and fussed about the most trivial of matters: Will work come to me, or must I find it? Why isn't the world concerned about me? Am I beautiful? Am I fat? Why do I worry so much for others? Am I selfish? Where did my little dog go? His dark eyebrows came together . . . that last one might be a legitimate issue. Bah! what difference did that make? To the Nine Hells with their blubbering concerns and sad tales! Ain't a damned one of 'em worthy t' walk this land no how! he cursed them inwardly. Damned fools just breed an' breed cuz they ain't cap'ble o' workin', an' eventu'lly they've a flock big 'nough t' kick out those that earned the land!

The aggravation forced him to slam down another ale, and as he cracked the empty wooden tankard upon the counter in the frustration bestowed upon him by his thoughts, the sudden call for aid against orcs cried out through the festhall. O' course! he turned his eyes upward, his arms outstretched wide, as if imploring the dwarven pantheon to rescue him--or banish the lot of them, if the dear gods would rather. Wouldn't be no damned orcs if'n 'em rodents hadn't flooded the Vast and practically driven the dwarves out!

A small swarm of twitchy-nosed hares had started gathering at the table near the stage already, he noticed. He peeked out of the corner of his eye, taking stock of the folk. Looked like a formidable sort. He hoisted the second tankard and guzzled a few swallows, letting the runoff wash some of the grime from his frizzled black beard. Appeared to him that those meeting there should be more than capable of handling a few puny orcs. Before even finishing that thought, he realized he'd accidently emptied this tankard, too. Damnation! he swore. The dwarf had wanted to make this one last a bit longer. He scrutinized the tankard a brief moment, and decided they'd shrunk since his last visit.

Slowly, without Kiln wishing it, his head rotated ever-so-slightly to the left, his eyes once again drawn to those at the meeting table. Abs'lutely not! he fumed. I've done me work fer the day! An' the damned fools'll get 'emselves killed anyway! An' me with 'em, don't ye doubt! As he sat there without drink before him, however, the dwarf's semi-hidden gaze never pulled away from the small troupe of adventurers.

Suddenly, he knew all was lost.

"BAH!" he threw his hands up again in exasperation. "Damnation, Teroc!" he bellowed for the tender. "Where's me ale? How's a dwarf t' keep so many rodents 'live when he's still thirstin' fer 'is ale?

"And besides that," Kiln grumbled, practically incoherently, "'tis a long way t' that table . . . "

Teroc had been hesitating ever so slightly in refilling the Dwarf's ales because he had hoped that the dwarf would go with the group. All he ever did was complain about humans, but maybe against a common enemy, it would do him some good. He knew that the dwarf would be better off going and earning some proper money and quit running up his tab. Of course, he would return with a handsome reward, and might even settle up his account.

Three tankards slid down the bar toward the dwarf in rapid succession. "There you are, Kiln. There's always plenty more. You know I do have other paying customers. That might even light enough of a fire in your belly for you to go over to that table you have been eying."

The ugly but well-kept man slid over to the merchant's table. He had to be a merchant, if he were to offer so much money. The man did not have a noble look or quality to his mannerisms, so he was going to think of him as a merchant until proven otherwise. He eyed the others that came to the table with a piercing glance. He was determined to know with whom he might be risking his life without asking.

This man had the look of an escaped slave... no probably a gladiator. At least he was no stranger to battle. Isof did not care about other people's property escaping, but a pursuing band might hinder their quest. If it did not sound like it would take long, he would be good to take along for battle, but a long term relationship would only spell trouble.

It looked as if the "Paladin of Sune" was going to be coming. She wore her sword proudly, but it looked as if it was brand new. Either it was magical... no, not of good enough quality to be enchanted, she was a novice. Well, at least paladins have some healing ability, it might save someone's life to have her along, either for healing or to distract the orcs from more seasoned fighters.

She had a squire with her, halfling squire. Halfings could hold their own against most things, or else they would have been wiped off the face of Toril by now. This one had a bit of spunk. Isof looked forward to seeing this one in battle, with either the chance to prove herself or to see her humbled.

The mage could either be a great asset, or a bumbling idiot. If the second, Isof did not worry about having to split the purse with him later, if the first, he would be glad to that very thing. He had been pretty nervous since he came in here, which meant he might be desperate. If so, he would have to keep his hands on his dagger when he was around. One could never be too careful around desperate people.

From the outcry near the front of the place, it looked as if the dwarf might come along as well. That would be good. Dwarves are rotten company, but they hate orcs more than anything else usually. That dwarf could be counted as at least two men. It was something Isof had seen before.

Seven, if Kara was coming as well. Should be enough for twice that many orcs, easy. Three times, if they caught them by surprise. This would make for an interesting venture.

Kara watched them, one by one, as they approached the table. A diverse handfull to say the least. But diverse was likely a far better choice than a group of simgleminded. With a smirk she grabbed for one of the nearby chairs, pulled it over, and sat herself down.

"Looks like a handfull to me"

Three tankards slid down the bar toward the dwarf in rapid succession. "There you are, Kiln. There's always plenty more. You know I do have other paying customers. That might even light enough of a fire in your belly for you to go over to that table you have been eying."

The dwarf's face turned beat red from a mixture of rage and embarrassment. He very nearly leaped across the bar counter to have a go with the barbarian, but somehow managed momentary restraint. Even so, spittle and indecipherable growls escaped en masse from his furiously quivering lips. The keeper's words flew well past implying and landed squarely within the accusatory bin, and, thus, so affronted Kiln's dwarven pride that to do nothing about it just screamed cowardice in the face of mockery. He had known the man for some years now, however, and hardly desired to cause any actual physical harm.

The slight simmered within him all the same, and threatened to boil over if he did nothing in retaliation. "Damn ye, Teroc!" he swore finally, sliding off the stool and pointing a stubby, accusatory finger of his own at the tender over the counter that now rose to be only about a foot shorter than him. "Damn ye, an' all yer whiskerless ferret kin! I'll nay be speaked down to b' the likes o' yerself!"

As soon as those words left his mouth, Kiln registered the tremendous height difference between the two and his face grew a couple shades darker. "I ain't needin' yer damned ale!" He grabbed the wooden stool with both hands, and in a mighty overhead swing, smashed the thing to splinters over the bar. "Shoulda bought good dwarven stone stools, 'stead o' bein' so damned cheap, ye fool! That'd ne'er o' happ'ned then!"

In a huff, the dwarf stormed away from the bar, heading straight for the orc hunting party gathering at the distant table. He made it only a few steps before his hand plunged into a belt pouch, as he wheeled back around to the bar. His entire body gyrating with anger, Kiln slammed two silver coins down upon the counter. "A dwarf always pays 'is debts!" he bellowed, and stormed away a second time.

Only to return once again a split-second later to snatch one of the three full tankards of ale in a powerful hand and shoot Teroc a venomous glare as he steamed away toward the table for a third attempt.

The merchant watched the heroes assemble. It was coming together quite nicely. Seven faces looking at him expectantly, waiting for the information that would either kill them or make them rich. This wasn't the lot that he was expecting, he hardly could believe that a paladin would help, but there she was, and victory was almost assured in his mind.

He leaned in close and spoke in such a way as to encourage them to lean in as well. "I had been designated to bring a package, more specifically an old chest in a wagon from Sevenecho to my contact here in Procampur. The chest was a recent acquisition from there by another of my patron's agents, and was entrusted to me to bring it quickly to Procampur, by whatever expense necessary. Having procured some guards and a wagon, we came along the north road to reach our destination as quickly as possible.

"I thought that six armed guards would have been sufficient, but we were ambushed in the hills just east of town. I was hit..." He raised his arm with the arrow still through it. "... and my horse panicked. There were at least 5 archers, as many foot men, and a couple orcs on wargs that charged the party. I knew trying to control my steed would have ended up with me on the ground, so I merely spurred him on. I glanced over my shoulder to see the bad state of my guard's affairs. I do not believe that any survived."

Engersol took a moment and looked at everyone around the table. "It is very important that you retrieve that chest. If you can retrieve anything else from the caravan, that would be appreciated, but not necessary. If you can bring me back proof that these orcs are dead, I will be able to do business in Sevenecho again, knowing that I treated the guards I hired there with respect, and at least avenged their deaths.

"The sooner you leave, the less distance you will have to cover to find them. I don't know where they came from, or where they were going, but this information is also valuable to me and to my patron. My patron is very rich, but must remain nameless at this time, as news of this blunder would upset his business. When you return with his property, I am sure he would like to thank you personally."

He leaned back on his chair, obviously relieved that the information was no longer in his hands alone. "Do you have any questions?"

He leaned forward to listen more closely to the man's proposal. Tolian thought that the man proposed much, with little information. "How well armed were the footmen?", he asked. He wondered also about the other wears on board. Certainly the chest wasn't the only thing, and some cargoes could possibly be a hazzard.

"You mentioned other cargo," he said. "Will we find anything that might be hazardous, or bolster their strength?" Tolian sat up a moment and had a sip of his lager, then he leaned back in. Watching the man's eyes ...

"How well armed were the footmen?"

Engersol turned over to Tolian. He seemed the type to be interested in weapons with all of those scars. "Spears I saw, maybe secondary weapons, I could not tell. As I told you, I did not get a good look other than to see my guards going down." He went to look to see if there were other questions before he turned back and said "The ones on the back of the wargs wielded swords though. Long swords I believe. Most likely taken from other caravan guards."

Thinking he should have added some details he left out earlier, he continued. "Also, the other cargo I brought with was linens. It is transported in chests that were hastily made to look like the chest I need, but you can tell the difference by how heavy they are. What orcs will do with white sheets, I really don't understand, but if they opened them at all, they are probably ruined. Don't open the chests if they are not open already. Just bring the heavy one back here, and the others if you have room.

"I will have a servant greet you and take you to me, wherever I might be at the time."

"Also, the other cargo I brought with was linens. It is transported in chests that were hastily made to look like the chest I need, but you can tell the difference by how heavy they are. What orcs will do with white sheets, I really don't understand, but if they opened them at all, they are probably ruined. Don't open the chests if they are not open already. Just bring the heavy one back here, and the others if you have room.

"I will have a servant greet you and take you to me, wherever I might be at the time."

Tolian looked confused for a moment, then he got sort of amused. With a raised eyebrow he asked, "Are you saying you thought the shipment so important that it required decoys inside the transport, and then not important enough to assign more than 6 men?"

"Sevenecho is tiny, but well off. There are but seventy people there, and none of them take kindly to leaving. If this were winter, no one could have found any guards to hire, because they all have to be imported." Isof said this a little more haughtily than he probably ought. He did not need to make more enemies than he already had, but a stupid question is a stupid question. What did an escaped slave know about caravans after all?

He tried to be less haughty and more instructive with his second statement. "Also, decoys well guarded would hardly work. Larger amounts of guards mean larger value of cargo. If one is going to fool orcs and bandits into letting this one slide, there is a delicate balance that has to be made between enough guards to fend off the smaller parties, and few enough to escape the bigger threats. There is such a thing as too many guards."

Isof turned his eyes toward his prospective employer. "Here is a question, not everyone here has horses, can you advance us gold so we can get some? I know a guy who has some available on short notice."

Daisy sat on the low chair, and was able to rest her chin on the table without bending over, while she listened to the discussion. It all sounded rather shady to the halfling. Secret transports. Decoy shipments. She looked up at the Lady Ta'Marilyn with concern in her large brown eyes. She didn't want to accuse the man of being a scoundrel to his face, but she wasn't sure she could trust a man who wore a purple, feathered hat.

"M'lady," she began in a soft enough voice so as not to interrupt the rest of the table, "Do you feel that this is the mission that the goddess has intended for you here?"

"Sevenecho is tiny, but well off. There are but seventy people there, and none of them take kindly to leaving. If this were winter, no one could have found any guards to hire, because they all have to be imported." Isof said this a little more haughtily than he probably ought. He did not need to make more enemies than he already had, but a stupid question is a stupid question. What did an escaped slave know about caravans after all?

He tried to be less haughty and more instructive with his second statement. "Also, decoys well guarded would hardly work. Larger amounts of guards mean larger value of cargo. If one is going to fool orcs and bandits into letting this one slide, there is a delicate balance that has to be made between enough guards to fend off the smaller parties, and few enough to escape the bigger threats. There is such a thing as too many guards."

Isof turned his eyes toward his prospective employer. "Here is a question, not everyone here has horses, can you advance us gold so we can get some? I know a guy who has some available on short notice."

Tolian wasn't surprised at all at the scolding tone the man took. He pegged the man as an arrogant ass. Then he watched the man in the next statement deflate himself into nothing more than an opportunistic beggar. Tolian eyed the man suspsiciously a moment. Then shifted his weight slightly from his hips to his legs. The temptation to come up from his seat and throttle the man was strong. Tolian kept his seat, but his nostrils had a new flare in them.

Ian was starting to have second thoughts about this adventure. Six men had already died to protect this cargo. This wasn't a game he thought to himself as the reality of the situation came to him.

This man was hiding something, but that didn't disturb Ian. The man is entitled to his secrets. Whatever the precious cargo was it really wasn't any of their business. One could hardly expect someone to come in and say there was a large chest full of gold... would you go get it for me! No, the man was prudent to keep his secrets.

Of course, the others didn't seem to trust him. They seemed more experienced in these matters than him, he reminded himself. Perhaps it would be wise to keep an open mind. What did concern him was simple numbers.

"Six men have proven insufficient for this task already." Ian raised an eyebrow as he cast an apprasing look at the others at the table. "So this time you send seven?"

Engersol got a little worried when people started talking amongst themselves. He was hoping for a little inebriation to speed things along, with them sobering up along the way. But on the bright side, their deliberation showed intelligence, which might work out for all of their benefit in the near future.

"I am prepared to give you an advance for expenditures, but anyone who desires it must sign a contract I am prepared to write in front of everyone. I apologize for my lack of preparedness, but as you can see, I would like this taken care of as quickly as possible, so as to not upset my employer. If it must be, I can put a request through the Hall of Venturers, but that would take time, and I believe there is a waiting list, so I would lose about 14 hours before I could send another group. By then, there could be weather, or they could regroup with a larger force of orcs, and then the cargo would be lost. If any of you do not wish to go, please tell me now so I can make arrangements for others to be sent.

The merchant seemed to take a bit more of a earnest tone. "I assure you this is a legal and binding contract. Teroc can vouch for my character, we have known each other for several years. Also, please try to work together, I need that chest back, my very livelihood depends on it. "

She liked the questions that were posed around the table. In fact, she liked them a lot. And it was starting to sound like a real challenge for once, not in the likes of returning stolen chickens or settling disputes over destroyed flowerbeds.

"I assure you this is a legal and binding contract. Teroc can vouch for my character, we have known each other for several years. Also, please try to work together, I need that chest back, my very livelihood depends on it. "

Kara straightened a little in her chair, “I’ll sign”, she said, giving a gaze at the blackhaired man in the blue cloak. “It is not about the numbers, although if it is… Think of it this way: The fewer it takes to pull it off, the higher your pay. Good math always comes with risk factors.”

She looked back at their wounded employer. “You sure you want to be writing with that arm?”

Decoys! The dwarf nearly snorted out his ale. Decoys don't dissuade orcs, ye damned fool! Jus' like a rat t' think it can trick a cat out o' eatin' it by posin' as a bird!

He snorted again, sending foam spraying over the tankard's lip. All this talk was ridiculous, after all. These were orcs! Their only true reason for living was dying in innovative ways fashioned by dwarves!

Just then, he heard the small conversation between the militia woman and the raven-haired one, and grumbled, "As I see it, only mistake 'e made was hirin' six men, an' no dwarves. Askin' t' be butchered." He drained the last of his ale and slammed the tankard down upon the table. "Well?!? Get yer damned papers in order, ye lout! Ye want these damned orcs dead, an' yer cargo returned, don't ye? Ain't gonna happ'n whilst gibberin' on like some addle-brained knave!" Kiln peered around at the rest of the men, women, and child-rodents at the table. "Nothin' more t' discuss 'ere! Yer either up fer killin' orcs 'r ye ain't! The slaugterin' won't start so long's we're snivelin' 'round here! Hoist yer axes 'r tuck yer tails, rats in the round! Adventurin' calls! Bwahahaha!" he bellowed for a long second, then suddenly stopped, turning a stern, expectant eye toward the merchant, who had yet to produce any contract.

Tolian looked around the table at the faces. It seemed as though a group was forming. He had definite reservations about the group that was forming. He knew he'd have to watch his back on this. He felt a little trapped in this. With the old healer's little settlement destroyed by the fire, he didn't have much. He didn't know where this work would take him. What else could he do? Go back to being someone's gladiator?

Tolian set his resolve and fixed eyes on the merchant. "Any other terms you wish to name in your ... proposal?"

“You sure you want to be writing with that arm?”

The merchant looked at his arm. It was quite useless right now, indeed.

He looked hopefully at Ian. "Ah, allow me to be so bold as to inquire if any of you might have had any scribe training? I can provide parchment and ink" He motioned toward his right side in which a small scroll case was hanging from his belt.

"Well?!? Get yer damned papers in order, ye lout! Ye want these damned orcs dead, an' yer cargo returned, don't ye? Ain't gonna happ'n whilst gibberin' on like some addle-brained knave!"

Engersol remained silent at the chastisement from the dwarf. He did not wish to upset anyone at this point, and let him continue to make a challenge toward the rest of the table. If any returned from this trip, Engersol would have put a large wager on this dwarf, no matter the size of the orcish party.

"Any other terms you wish to name in your ... proposal?"

He looked at the wary man who had first started asking questions. "No, I do believe I have enumerated them to my liking, although I will repeat them aloud to whomever would wish to write them for me. I do admit, this is somewhat embarrassing." He winced a bit as he tried to move his hand, then thought better of it and let it relax to the position it had held before.

Definite misgivings. This group wasn't impressing Ian much. He had high hopes for the Paladin, but she was still young. The fighter seemed short tempered and entirely to enthusiastic, the dwarf.... He sounded effective, but by heaven the smell! Did he drink his ale or did he bathe in it!

Unfortunately he had to admit as fingered the loose change in his pocket, there wasn't much choice in the matter. This was the mission, and this was the group. If he didn't want to be washing dishes or scrubbing floors for a bite to eat, he'd better put his doubts to rest. Besides he couldn't exactly back out now, after he spent so long convincing the pretty Paladin and her squire he knew what he was talking about. He did have a 'little' pride after all.

"Bring your ink," Ian tried to say confidently. It was a little annoying to be reduced to scribe already, but nobody else seemed to be stepping forward. It was best if they started this quickly before his resolve disappeared.

Lady Ta'Marilyn listened quietly to the man describe the quest and to the others as they questioned him for more details. The paladin had no questions to ask, she had faith that this was the way Sune wanted her to go and the reason why did not matter.

"Sir, you have my sword for this quest," Lady Ta'Marilyn said with certainty. "These ugly orcs must face the justice of my blade for their crimes. As soon as I may sign said contract I shall take leave to prepare myself for the battle ahead."