Nerna looks at the half-orc with a slight apprehension, but her concern overcomes her fear, and she clasps his hands, looking into his eyes for the first time.
“He’s just comin’ into manhood, he is, and just rearin’ for a good fight, as all boys in this age of his ilk are. He’s got strong farm-field arms and curly hair as sends the hobbit village lasses dizzy. I almost cut his hair clean off last year to keep those doe-eyed troublemakers away, but now today I’d give up my scissors to any one of those hussies just to see him through.
“Please, help him! He doesn’t know what he danger he’s in!”
"Sometimes the King listens to my advice, sometimes he does not. I will talk to the King, and if the opportunity comes up speak on the boys behalf. But you should talk some sense into the laddie, make him see reason. "
Colden looks at Nerna with benevolent eyes, sensing her concern for the lad.
"Now we need to be on our way. Take care, Nerna. If I'll pop by the kitchen later, is there any chance of some freshly baked bread?" Colden now looks with hopeful eyes and he can feel his mouth water in anticipation of Nerna's bread. Fresh out of the oven, with butter melting on top... his tummy rumbles at the mere thought!
Nerna hands you both a satchel filled with hard bread and some foodstuffs. “For the road,” she says. “A little nip to tide you over when the soldier rations get hard on your tongue.”
You come upon the entrance to the throne room shortly thereafter where two guards stand at attention, waiting to announce visitors and bar entry as needed. The black dust swirls around their shoulders as a cold breeze blows in from the open window nearby. The flapping of the king’s personal pennant, which depicts a bear on a mountain, drones away in cadence with your footsteps. Muffled shouting can be heard from behind the throne room doors.
As you approach, the senior guard on duty does the following:
@ashafetov this is where your character enters the scene. You’re up!
The guard stands sullenly at the gate, leaning on his spear. He wears a simple soldier's uniform, with a Sergeant's badly worn insignia, open helmet, leather breastplate and a worn but fine cape. Seeing those who came, he levels off and takes a position accordingly to the Statute. In a low voice, he asks:
"His Majesty's Senior Guard Nareth! Declare yourself imme... M'alord Colden? I beg ya pardon I did not recognize ya. According to the Statute ya must declare yourself before I let you in, I say..." - he grins behinds his mustache and the wrinkles are smoothing over his forehead.
It is obvious that he enjoys upholding the rules:
"... But I think we can omit these formalities." - He waves with friendly gesture.
His gaze falls on the Half-Orc and the smile erases itself from his face. In a non-expressive tone, he adds:
"Excuse me M'alord Colden, but ye ... servant will have to wait here before I announce ye arrival to the King Himself. His Majesty only wants to see close friends most trusted advisors."
"Hello Senior Guard Nareth. As you say, I am one of the King's most trusted advisors, and this.. [Colden waves a hand at Lagrord and a quick glance] is my most trusted friend and comrade, which should make him in extension, the King's as well. Come now, don't dally and open the door and announce us."
" With all the respect, M'alord Colden... Ye comrade wait here." - Nareth pounders for a short moment and an expression of doubt appears on his face.
Nareth has Chaotic Good alignment, what makes him break the rules... This time. Why not let Colden face His Majesty's anger himself if he dares?
" In any case, I have to announce ye arrival to the King. And leave it him to impose exceptions on his rules. His Majesty is in a bad mood lately and I recommend ya to make no trouble, huh." - his face becomes stern and ceremonially strict again.
Nareth clears his throat, flings open the gates blocking the entrance to Colden and Lagrord, makes a saluting gesture and declares out with the solemn voice: " Your Majesty! Astorwind Lorekeeper Colden himself with his humble servant are asking for an audience! "
The king, apparently in midstride with a shout, instead turns his ire towards the door.
"No, Gressick, you are NOT to--Nareth I told you we were not to be disturbed--Colden, come in, damn it all to the Sun God!" his ire shifts from Gressick to Nareth to Colden where it dies from anger to a sort of forced exuberance.
He breathes deeply as you two approach. He wears a timeless face sheltered in long black hair and beard, crossed by myriads of scars and the weathering of countless angry tantrums. A table laid with several maps has been pulled into the center of the throne room. His pack leans against the table and his general, a former raider turned "civilized" warrior, Gressick, rests his hands on it, obviously angry as well.
"Gressick and I were just discussing our upcoming battle on the northern border," says King Corak grimly. Gressick, a powerful, middleaged man checkered with frightening tattoos and bone piercings, cuts in, "No, you were ordering and I was protesting and then you were screaming."
King Corak's ire begins to rise again, but in front of Colden he keeps it in check (for the immediate moment). Gressick is one of the few who can speak to him like that. A relatively recent addition to King Corak's board, his clan was wiped out a few years ago by a particularly harsh winter. Only he and his daughter survived. King Corak took him in and his familiarity with the landscape of the Valley have proven to be invaluable.
"We will NOT ask the Bloodeye Clan for help, Gressick!" shouts Corak. "You are NOT to go to them, they are savages! Nareth, come in and close the DOOR, damn you, or it'll be your head! Do I look like I need my entire castle seeing my ire??"
The king stop screaming when he sees the door is already closed and Nareth is already standing. He gives a sort of confused, pickled look around.
"Don't say a WORD," he hisses to Gressick, as the former raider opens his mouth.
"I'll say as I wish, Corak," replies Gressick. "I think your judgement is clouded. We need all the help we can get."
"The Bloodeye clan has been our sworn enemies for ages," says Corak. "They have murdered our children and burned our villages. They would strike at us the moment they knew our forces were leaving!"
"It is their border that has been overrun!" counters Gressick. "They will need our help as much as you need theirs."
"Colden, talk some sense into this fool!" cries Corak. "Tell him he's an idiot to alert our most bitter enemies to our absence in a time of danger!"
Nareth twitches and bows politely. He leaves the the hall and closes the gates from outside. He has got already used to King's quirks and sudden rage outbursts, so now it is about time get back to humble and boring guard's routine. However, the huge space within the hall amplifies His Majesty's screams loud enough to be heard in the hallway, close to the door.
"King Corak." Colden bows, but not the deep bow of a sheepish and lowly subject, rather a courteous bow out of actual respect.
"In order to talk sense, I need data to assess the situation and construct a valid response based on known facts. Without such facts, anything I say would be hollow, subjective ramblings. And I am not a rambling man. Please, if I may ask, can you elaborate on the arguments, the plan and the envisioned outcome so I can better council you in this matter?"
He shoots a glance at Lagrord and waves gently to indicate Lagrord should move to the side and remain out of focus. Colden then walks up closer to the table and takes a relaxed stand, looking at King Corak and then to Gressick.
King Corak takes a deep breath at the sound of his old friend’s calming reason. He continues, though he is still quite condescending and angry.
“A few days ago, we received word that a group of orcs, 400 strong at least, had descended on the Bloodeye Clan of the Northern Crags. As they are our enemy, as you well know—” he gives a pointed glance to Gressick “—we gave it little thought.
“However, one of our scouts returned this morning and told us the Bloodeye Clan had been overrun and were in retreat. We do not know where they went...”
“But I believe I know where to find them!” cuts in Gressick.
Corak gives his general an angry look, but says nothing to the interruption, another testament to their relationship. “He claims that he can convince them to join us by the time we reach the orcs on our northern border. The orcs have already met our skirmishers on the border and have fallen back into the Crags, according to the scout.
“We are leaving within the hour to meet them head on and hunt them down like the vermin they are.”
“If they drove off the Bloodeye Clan, there is something we are missing!” snaps Gressick
“400 strong is certainly enough to drive any Clan from their home!” says Corak, repeating what is obviously an already held argument. “Do you think it possible that the Darkensons could withstand 400 orcs?” The Darkensons is the name of Gressick’s fallen Clan.
“Not without incredible losses to the orcs!” yells Gressick. “The first scout reported 400 strong, and so did the second! Our Darkensons would have laid them to waste!”
“If that is true as you say, then it is plausible that the Bloodeye Clan left as a ruse to take Astorwind while we have our backs turned.”
“All the more reason to meet them and find out their intentions!” counters Gressick.
“I need you at my side, General,” says Corak wearily. “I know you are the only one who can find them. But I need you there.”
There is a pause.
“I trust Prince Casak spoke to you about the draft?” the king says to Colden.
"Hmm.. Let us dissect the facts, lay them out and examine them one by one.
Firstly, we know Bloodeye clan were beaten, but that the scouts indicate it happened without losses of the enemy. This means one of two thing, either the Bloodeye clan fled, also with no or minimal losses and thus remain a strong, though scattered force, or they were so utterly defeated by some stratagem they couldn't fight back. "
Colden pauses for a moment, though not a military strategist, he tried to deduce the facts into something that the King might derive a strategy from.
"Secondly, the enemy remains 400 or so still, a number you are confident we can win over. But without knowing the answer to the first question, we risk walking into a trap and may lose our forces doing so."
"Thirdly, if we do lose our forces in such a trap, we leave Astornwind defenseless for the orcs to ravage, thus making the argument about risk being backstabbed by Bloodeye null and void."
Colden again pauses for a second and gather his thoughts..
"So, by reaching out the Bloodeye clan we can get answer to the first question, thus getting the facts straigth about potential enemy stratagems and, or the outcome of their battle without increasing the risk for Astorwind. If the Bloodeye clan was wiped out, they pose no threat to us. If they fled or was beaten, an enemy of my enemy, is my friend. "
Colden wraps up his thoughts and his arguments using a calm, assertive but with a flair of dramatic tone weaved into it, his bardic education kicking in subconsciousnessly.
"I sense there's little merit in charging head first into a hornet's nest without ample protection, so let us send a small, swift party out to quickly get in contact with the Bloodeye clan, while still sending the main force towards engaging the Orcs. But have them move slowly, to let the small team send word of the Bloodeye clan before engagement with the Orcs."
"And yes, here's the Declaration you asked for. If there's any chance you need to it, I have with me paper and pen to quickly write up a new one. "
The king takes the declaration thoughtfully but hardly looks at it. He is brooding over something as he studies Gressick and Colden in turn.
“I have heard both of your arguments and note them,” says Corak. “But my word stands. No, Gressick, I will not hear anymore, not unless you can recommend someone else to go in your stead! You know why...”
“I can send my daughter,” says Gressick. “They will not listen to her because she is a woman, but she would be able to find them. If you can provide a herald, as Colden says, and a small escort, perhaps they can all convince them.”
“Do you really believe that?” says Corak.
“No, I think they will only listen to me,” says Gressick. “But as your will is to have me by your side, then I can only obey.”
Ah, my friends, we have reached a crossroads in the story! How the next part of scene plays out will have an effect on how the story continues.
I had not expected it to play out quite this way, but this is what happens in D&D! Very exciting!
"My Liege, if I may.. " Colden moves in after Gressick, before the King have time to say anything.
"I've read about the Bloodeye clan and know they are an unruly bunch, like most barbarian tribes.. " a quick glance towards Gressick, then Colden continues ".. They have a sort of code of Honor rather than laws, like the ones you, our great King, enforce dutifully. We would do best to approach them with someone of their kind, so perhaps this daughter of Gressick would be an ideal candidate to guide the party there and aid in explaining the customs and practices of the people."
Now Colden looks a bit less secure, moving outside of his comfort zone (which is at his desk, with a blank page to fill, a quill pen in his hand and a large keg of dwarven ale to warm him with) and continues.
".. and.. ahem.. if my King wants me to be in that party, I will obey. But if my King wants me to stay in the comfort of Astorwind, writing missives, declarations and decrees that is what I will do. "
uh... no... your character’s argument has absolutely side-railed the first part of my planned-out plot!
Lol.
But that is great, because that is what I love about D&D!!!
“He is the best choice other than me and you know it, Corak,” says Gressick. “He is essentially your 3rd in command... he is familiar with our customs and laws, and you trust him enough to make decisions on your behalf. My daughter can coach him in the customs he is unfamiliar with. It’s isnt as good as sending me, but if you weren’t so stubborn we wouldn’t have this argument.”
“3rd in command, Gressick?” says Corak. “I don’t remember establishing any sort of pecking order other than me at the top.
“What do you say, Colden? I can’t say I like the idea, but you make a compelling case and we need someone to go. I can think of no one else other than... well, my son must go with me.”
It seems I've trapped myself in my own logic, Colden thinks to himself. He also thinks about being on the road again, facing fears and hardships and the lack of fresh bread and butter.. and ale! Oh, the ale.
Colden stretches a bit to look confident, removes a piece of imaginary dirt on his clothing and speaks.
"Yes, of course my Lord. Gressick speaks well and his words hold truth. I will bring my loyal man Lagrord and the daughter of Gressick and we will be on our way shortly. "
Colden thinks about his promise to Nerna.
"Before I leave, though, I would like to briefly talk to you, King Corak, about a personal topic. It will be short, just a moment of your time.. if you may."
King Corak looks surprised at Colden’s acceptance, but he nods and dismisses Gressick.
“I will fetch my daughter and meet you in the village square, Colden, my liege,” the heavily tattooed man says with a curt bow.
“I am afraid I must speak to you in private as well, old friend,” says Corak after Gressick leaves. He seems to completely ignore Lagrord, whom he must regard as nothing of worry. “But please, you first. You have done me an honor today by volunteering for this mission. I know it is not... your forte.”
"Thank you, Corak. I will do what I must to save the Kingdom and ensure your vision. No one but you and Astorwind can bring peace and prosperity to these lands. We each have to play our part to support that." Without Gressick's presence, Colden falls back into a more familiar way of addressing the King, more of an old friend than a King. "Lagrord have skills that will benefit us. He has a part to play in this and I'm certain it will be a large part before we see the end of it."
"You see, Nerna's young boy seem to have been caught up in some.. entanglements. It's a good lad, young and foolish as most young ones are, but with a good heart in him he has. I just wanted to ask of you to take this into consideration should something come up that may demand a.. reprimand. "
“Lagrord?” asks the king. “Oh, you mean your slave, your domesticated orc... thing. I didn’t know you named it. Yes, it’s your property, you can do whatever you wish with it. I’m not such a harsh king that you need my permission to polish your own tools, am I?”
Though Lagrord isn’t Colden’s slave but his servant, and that in title only as a matter of protection, the king hardly seems to care one way or the other.
“As far as this boy, I will keep your request in mind. However, as you know, any attempt to resist royal decree, especially in times like this, will result in immediate retribution.”
“Now I’m guessing that is all,” he says, moving on abruptly and not waiting for an answer. “I must speak with you of something important.” The soft implication is that he doesn’t think Nerna’s boy or Lagrord is important.
“I have reason to believe that my son will try to make an attempt on my life,” he says. “I don’t know when... but, he is his father’s son. You know of the bloodlust that runs within his veins. Were his mother still alive, perhaps she might... well, that is another matter.
“Gressick has proven himself to be a most valuable friend and a capable warrior, which is why I must keep him with me. I wanted you to know, old friend, that is why I have sent you on this errand, and not him. I believe Gressick can protect me while not harming my son. Of course, should he succeed and take my throne early... well, I will need you to advise him as you have me. Do you understand?”
The king’s timeless face suddenly reveals its age and worry.
"That is worrysome news, Corak." Colden sends a compassionate glance to Lagrord, knowing full well what comments like that must make the young half-orc feel. "I've tutored the boy best I can as per your instructions, but I'm pretty sure regicide was not part of the education.. " That last part meant as a joke, though after saying it, Colden hesitates about whether or not it was approproate. "There's good in him.. still. This damned world brings out the worst in many people, but if he's half the man you are, I'm sure this will all be a misunderstanding." Colden gives the king a friendly pat on his arm.
"If this ends up as you expect, I'll do my best to guide him for the best of the kingdom and its people, but I won't work for a tyrant. I'm greatly honored to work for you, to be your Lorekeeper and even a trusted friend, but my one true allegiance is for the realm, its people and for goodness. You know this, my King."
"Is there anything else you want from me? Otherwise I think we need to prepare our journey. It's been a long time since I was out on the roads and it's harsher now than ever. Many a peril can be the bane of this old dwarf, should he come unprepared. "
*Lagrord begins to think of all his favorite things to pass the time: his father Colden, his hat, that one time he saw the prince trip and fall into some manure. That last one made him smile, despite himself*
Comments
“He’s just comin’ into manhood, he is, and just rearin’ for a good fight, as all boys in this age of his ilk are. He’s got strong farm-field arms and curly hair as sends the hobbit village lasses dizzy. I almost cut his hair clean off last year to keep those doe-eyed troublemakers away, but now today I’d give up my scissors to any one of those hussies just to see him through.
“Please, help him! He doesn’t know what he danger he’s in!”
Colden looks at Nerna with benevolent eyes, sensing her concern for the lad.
"Now we need to be on our way. Take care, Nerna. If I'll pop by the kitchen later, is there any chance of some freshly baked bread?" Colden now looks with hopeful eyes and he can feel his mouth water in anticipation of Nerna's bread. Fresh out of the oven, with butter melting on top... his tummy rumbles at the mere thought!
Then she rushes back into the kitchen.
As you approach, the senior guard on duty does the following:
"His Majesty's Senior Guard Nareth! Declare yourself imme... M'alord Colden? I beg ya pardon I did not recognize ya. According to the Statute ya must declare yourself before I let you in, I say..." - he grins behinds his mustache and the wrinkles are smoothing over his forehead.
It is obvious that he enjoys upholding the rules:
"... But I think we can omit these formalities." - He waves with friendly gesture.
His gaze falls on the Half-Orc and the smile erases itself from his face. In a non-expressive tone, he adds:
"Excuse me M'alord Colden, but ye ... servant will have to wait here before I announce ye arrival to the King Himself. His Majesty only wants to see close friends most trusted advisors."
" In any case, I have to announce ye arrival to the King. And leave it him to impose exceptions on his rules. His Majesty is in a bad mood lately and I recommend ya to make no trouble, huh." - his face becomes stern and ceremonially strict again.
Nareth clears his throat, flings open the gates blocking the entrance to Colden and Lagrord, makes a saluting gesture and declares out with the solemn voice: " Your Majesty! Astorwind Lorekeeper Colden himself with his humble servant are asking for an audience! "
"No, Gressick, you are NOT to--Nareth I told you we were not to be disturbed--Colden, come in, damn it all to the Sun God!" his ire shifts from Gressick to Nareth to Colden where it dies from anger to a sort of forced exuberance.
He breathes deeply as you two approach. He wears a timeless face sheltered in long black hair and beard, crossed by myriads of scars and the weathering of countless angry tantrums. A table laid with several maps has been pulled into the center of the throne room. His pack leans against the table and his general, a former raider turned "civilized" warrior, Gressick, rests his hands on it, obviously angry as well.
"Gressick and I were just discussing our upcoming battle on the northern border," says King Corak grimly. Gressick, a powerful, middleaged man checkered with frightening tattoos and bone piercings, cuts in, "No, you were ordering and I was protesting and then you were screaming."
King Corak's ire begins to rise again, but in front of Colden he keeps it in check (for the immediate moment). Gressick is one of the few who can speak to him like that. A relatively recent addition to King Corak's board, his clan was wiped out a few years ago by a particularly harsh winter. Only he and his daughter survived. King Corak took him in and his familiarity with the landscape of the Valley have proven to be invaluable.
"We will NOT ask the Bloodeye Clan for help, Gressick!" shouts Corak. "You are NOT to go to them, they are savages! Nareth, come in and close the DOOR, damn you, or it'll be your head! Do I look like I need my entire castle seeing my ire??"
"Don't say a WORD," he hisses to Gressick, as the former raider opens his mouth.
"I'll say as I wish, Corak," replies Gressick. "I think your judgement is clouded. We need all the help we can get."
"The Bloodeye clan has been our sworn enemies for ages," says Corak. "They have murdered our children and burned our villages. They would strike at us the moment they knew our forces were leaving!"
"It is their border that has been overrun!" counters Gressick. "They will need our help as much as you need theirs."
"Colden, talk some sense into this fool!" cries Corak. "Tell him he's an idiot to alert our most bitter enemies to our absence in a time of danger!"
"In order to talk sense, I need data to assess the situation and construct a valid response based on known facts. Without such facts, anything I say would be hollow, subjective ramblings. And I am not a rambling man. Please, if I may ask, can you elaborate on the arguments, the plan and the envisioned outcome so I can better council you in this matter?"
He shoots a glance at Lagrord and waves gently to indicate Lagrord should move to the side and remain out of focus. Colden then walks up closer to the table and takes a relaxed stand, looking at King Corak and then to Gressick.
“A few days ago, we received word that a group of orcs, 400 strong at least, had descended on the Bloodeye Clan of the Northern Crags. As they are our enemy, as you well know—” he gives a pointed glance to Gressick “—we gave it little thought.
“However, one of our scouts returned this morning and told us the Bloodeye Clan had been overrun and were in retreat. We do not know where they went...”
“But I believe I know where to find them!” cuts in Gressick.
Corak gives his general an angry look, but says nothing to the interruption, another testament to their relationship. “He claims that he can convince them to join us by the time we reach the orcs on our northern border. The orcs have already met our skirmishers on the border and have fallen back into the Crags, according to the scout.
“We are leaving within the hour to meet them head on and hunt them down like the vermin they are.”
“If they drove off the Bloodeye Clan, there is something we are missing!” snaps Gressick
“400 strong is certainly enough to drive any Clan from their home!” says Corak, repeating what is obviously an already held argument. “Do you think it possible that the Darkensons could withstand 400 orcs?” The Darkensons is the name of Gressick’s fallen Clan.
“Not without incredible losses to the orcs!” yells Gressick. “The first scout reported 400 strong, and so did the second! Our Darkensons would have laid them to waste!”
“If that is true as you say, then it is plausible that the Bloodeye Clan left as a ruse to take Astorwind while we have our backs turned.”
“All the more reason to meet them and find out their intentions!” counters Gressick.
“I need you at my side, General,” says Corak wearily. “I know you are the only one who can find them. But I need you there.”
There is a pause.
“I trust Prince Casak spoke to you about the draft?” the king says to Colden.
Firstly, we know Bloodeye clan were beaten, but that the scouts indicate it happened without losses of the enemy. This means one of two thing, either the Bloodeye clan fled, also with no or minimal losses and thus remain a strong, though scattered force, or they were so utterly defeated by some stratagem they couldn't fight back. "
Colden pauses for a moment, though not a military strategist, he tried to deduce the facts into something that the King might derive a strategy from.
"Secondly, the enemy remains 400 or so still, a number you are confident we can win over. But without knowing the answer to the first question, we risk walking into a trap and may lose our forces doing so."
"Thirdly, if we do lose our forces in such a trap, we leave Astornwind defenseless for the orcs to ravage, thus making the argument about risk being backstabbed by Bloodeye null and void."
Colden again pauses for a second and gather his thoughts..
"So, by reaching out the Bloodeye clan we can get answer to the first question, thus getting the facts straigth about potential enemy stratagems and, or the outcome of their battle without increasing the risk for Astorwind. If the Bloodeye clan was wiped out, they pose no threat to us. If they fled or was beaten, an enemy of my enemy, is my friend. "
Colden wraps up his thoughts and his arguments using a calm, assertive but with a flair of dramatic tone weaved into it, his bardic education kicking in subconsciousnessly.
"I sense there's little merit in charging head first into a hornet's nest without ample protection, so let us send a small, swift party out to quickly get in contact with the Bloodeye clan, while still sending the main force towards engaging the Orcs. But have them move slowly, to let the small team send word of the Bloodeye clan before engagement with the Orcs."
"And yes, here's the Declaration you asked for. If there's any chance you need to it, I have with me paper and pen to quickly write up a new one. "
Colden hands over the Declaration to the King.
“I have heard both of your arguments and note them,” says Corak. “But my word stands. No, Gressick, I will not hear anymore, not unless you can recommend someone else to go in your stead! You know why...”
“I can send my daughter,” says Gressick. “They will not listen to her because she is a woman, but she would be able to find them. If you can provide a herald, as Colden says, and a small escort, perhaps they can all convince them.”
“Do you really believe that?” says Corak.
“No, I think they will only listen to me,” says Gressick. “But as your will is to have me by your side, then I can only obey.”
“Who would we send?” asks Corak.
Gressick looks at Colden. “Send him.”
I had not expected it to play out quite this way, but this is what happens in D&D! Very exciting!
"I've read about the Bloodeye clan and know they are an unruly bunch, like most barbarian tribes.. " a quick glance towards Gressick, then Colden continues ".. They have a sort of code of Honor rather than laws, like the ones you, our great King, enforce dutifully. We would do best to approach them with someone of their kind, so perhaps this daughter of Gressick would be an ideal candidate to guide the party there and aid in explaining the customs and practices of the people."
Now Colden looks a bit less secure, moving outside of his comfort zone (which is at his desk, with a blank page to fill, a quill pen in his hand and a large keg of dwarven ale to warm him with) and continues.
".. and.. ahem.. if my King wants me to be in that party, I will obey. But if my King wants me to stay in the comfort of Astorwind, writing missives, declarations and decrees that is what I will do. "
Lol.
But that is great, because that is what I love about D&D!!!
“3rd in command, Gressick?” says Corak. “I don’t remember establishing any sort of pecking order other than me at the top.
“What do you say, Colden? I can’t say I like the idea, but you make a compelling case and we need someone to go. I can think of no one else other than... well, my son must go with me.”
Colden stretches a bit to look confident, removes a piece of imaginary dirt on his clothing and speaks.
"Yes, of course my Lord. Gressick speaks well and his words hold truth. I will bring my loyal man Lagrord and the daughter of Gressick and we will be on our way shortly. "
Colden thinks about his promise to Nerna.
"Before I leave, though, I would like to briefly talk to you, King Corak, about a personal topic. It will be short, just a moment of your time.. if you may."
“I will fetch my daughter and meet you in the village square, Colden, my liege,” the heavily tattooed man says with a curt bow.
“I am afraid I must speak to you in private as well, old friend,” says Corak after Gressick leaves. He seems to completely ignore Lagrord, whom he must regard as nothing of worry. “But please, you first. You have done me an honor today by volunteering for this mission. I know it is not... your forte.”
"You see, Nerna's young boy seem to have been caught up in some.. entanglements. It's a good lad, young and foolish as most young ones are, but with a good heart in him he has. I just wanted to ask of you to take this into consideration should something come up that may demand a.. reprimand. "
Though Lagrord isn’t Colden’s slave but his servant, and that in title only as a matter of protection, the king hardly seems to care one way or the other.
“As far as this boy, I will keep your request in mind. However, as you know, any attempt to resist royal decree, especially in times like this, will result in immediate retribution.”
“Now I’m guessing that is all,” he says, moving on abruptly and not waiting for an answer. “I must speak with you of something important.” The soft implication is that he doesn’t think Nerna’s boy or Lagrord is important.
“I have reason to believe that my son will try to make an attempt on my life,” he says. “I don’t know when... but, he is his father’s son. You know of the bloodlust that runs within his veins. Were his mother still alive, perhaps she might... well, that is another matter.
“Gressick has proven himself to be a most valuable friend and a capable warrior, which is why I must keep him with me. I wanted you to know, old friend, that is why I have sent you on this errand, and not him. I believe Gressick can protect me while not harming my son. Of course, should he succeed and take my throne early... well, I will need you to advise him as you have me. Do you understand?”
The king’s timeless face suddenly reveals its age and worry.
"If this ends up as you expect, I'll do my best to guide him for the best of the kingdom and its people, but I won't work for a tyrant. I'm greatly honored to work for you, to be your Lorekeeper and even a trusted friend, but my one true allegiance is for the realm, its people and for goodness. You know this, my King."
"Is there anything else you want from me? Otherwise I think we need to prepare our journey. It's been a long time since I was out on the roads and it's harsher now than ever. Many a peril can be the bane of this old dwarf, should he come unprepared. "