Gameplay 2 - Deranged Poisoner

"We all have our little tragedies..."

You're escorted to the king, who is confusingly known as Duke Harcourt. Still, as the Duchy of Harcourt is entirely independent, it is technically a kingdom. Still, the people are traditionalists.

The Duke/king meets you half way to the front of the palace. He is an older man, curly haired with a salt and pepper beard off middling length.

Everyone tries to form court right there in the hallway, but eventually his chancellor shoos the king back to his throne room which really is the best space for such meetings.

"Welcome to Harcourt. I understand that you have tidings from Marian Town. Please proceed, then I understand that my subjects from Clover Grove are in distress and I need to attend to them."

With his background in soldiering and merc-work, the silvery dragonborn knows his court manners probably aren't as polished as they should be for this kind of reception. He'd be far more comfortable debriefing the king's captains.

He simply makes a low, unintelligible mumble and looks to Tren and the village matron to deliver the documents and tell the story.

"No sir. We believe that Clover Grove was raided, albeit strangely, by Ogres." Owen reports. Like the paladin he has little experience with high-born folk and resorted to his mannerisms when he would report scoutings to his superiors.

"Indeed, although we suspect something more sinister. The ogre which burst into our encampment during the night was wild, eyes glazed over, and foaming at the mouth. at first we thought it was simply fearing for his life as at the time, unbesknown to us, it was being chased by Verilliana's hawks. But after speaking with her, we determined that the ogres were acting rather strangely. For one, they had taken their females with them on this raid. It seems as if something were controlling the ogres. What that thing is however, we have no idea yet as we felt it was preferable if we all escorted the refugees here instead of splitting up and head into danger with a less than full-strength party."

"It is as they say my lord. Now that we have delivered your remaining subject unto your protection here we request your permission to sally forth back into the wilds and discover the true nature of the threat. Naturally any assistance or recompense you could provide this endeavor would be most appreciated."

Duke Harcourt nods at Owen's words, and then at Cyrind'ae's longer explanation. "I heard a story with a similar result. In that case, the ogres had been driven out of their homeland by a dragon. Males, females, and children all fled into adjoining lands, and had rough encounters with the folk that already lived there. The result was much death."

He holds up one of the letters. "The archmage has indicated that she will be researching the demonic threat, and suggested that I keep an eye out for signs of cultists. I will issue a royal proclamation shortly to deal with the matter. You have my thanks, for coming to the aid of Marian Town, as well as Clover Grove. Please see my chancellor afterwards, as to a suitable reward.

Now, I need someone to travel into the untamed hills and find out if something is driving the ogres out of their homelands. You lot seem a capable bunch, and my forces need to be arranged against this cultist threat. Will you go in my stead?"

With a bow, Cyrind'ae accepts. "It will be an honor Duke Harcourt.

Owen kneels before the duke as well. "Yes my Duke." He bows his head as he answers. Happy that his regent will see to his home.

"Likewise, your majesty-duke," the soldier says awkwardly, "I think our whole company is eager to pursue and investigate the threat, with the backing of your - um - decree," the dragonborn adds, looking around at the rest of his companions. "We will be pleased to see the Chancellor and gear-up appropriately for the expedition," finishes Jhishma, unceremoniously, but not without respect.

"Good, good. See to my man, then, and check in with the guard captain before you leave. I must see to these refugees and these so called Verilliana's Hawks."

The king stalks off with a couple of retainers. To the side, a chancellor steps forward from the wall and beckons that you go with him. He leads any who follow through a few narrow corridors and then to a room guarded by two heavily armed, er, guards.

The chancellor looks you up and down. "The king has asked me to equip you with better weapons. Please one at a time, tell me what your preference is, and we'll see if we can find something familiar to you."

"I am pretty satisfied with my current accoutrement. I guess the only thing which would be an improvement over what I currently own would most likely be a magic item... I guess some more arrows would not hurt either."

"Amazing. Thank you kindly chancellor. I'll take very good care of it."

Owen stands forward. "I've always used this standard issued heavy crossbow. A newer model would be much appreciated." He seems somewhat less attentive than usual. Perhaps he is hasty to return to the hunt of the raiding beasts.

Owen nods his thanks to the man.

"I trust well enough the axe in my hands," says the knight of Winter's Fey, "but a suit of plate mail armour would help me better defend our company, I'll warrant." He looks with the obvious hope in his eyes of one who feels something beyond his station might now, miraculously be within his reach. "And if I may," the dragonborn adds, "a war horn to properly signal our advances, retreats, and warnings and such. My voice is too often hoarse for shouting over the din of battle."

Grok looks at his feet, and shuffles around a bit. "Ehm. Axe is a bit dinged. Mabbye you have sharp one?"