Chapter 01: She's just a kid!

Rivet, Riv to friends, pauses before taking a seat. He doesn’t want to break the chair this time. Not long ago, our metallic fellow sat in a chair, not necessarily built for his 300-pound frame. The result was not pleasant!

Satisfied he and the chair are both safe, the warforged fellow sits and smiles kindly at his fellow adventurers. His splint armor and shield each emanate magical aura, and a strange etching sits emblazoned upon both his shield and the amulet around his neck.

I suppose this is what it’s like being a Very Important Person, yes?

The pre-teen girl sits in one of the big chairs with her feet drawn up under her fidgeting and playing with her stuffed dolly, Thule. It's sort of battered and shapeless, hard to tell what it was supposed to be.

She starts to speak once or twice but then looks over at Jyn and remembers that she promised Jyn she would let Jyn do the talking. So she subsides without speaking and squirms around looking for a comfortable position.

Shem is lounging in one of the parlor's gnome-sized chairs, one leg dangling over the arm, smoking a thin, gnomish pipe. He's average-sized for a gnome, about three and a half feet. His gray-white hair and beard are both of typical gnomish style, but both somewhat unkempt. Shem is in that gnomish age range where he could be 50, or he could be 150. He's not young, but he's not an old man either. His clothes are plain and drab.
"Nah," Shem says around his pipe. "It's supposed to make you feel important, but the actual important people get somethin nicer, I'm sure."

"When important people want something from you, they make you feel important... at least long enough to make you do what they want," the tall, thin, black-haired man said as he got comfortable in a chair beside Shem. He wore casually elegant dark green clothes, and his gold-bordered dark green cloak was draped over the chair behind him. He wore a few rings on each hand, and an earring glinted in one ear. As he moved, some parts of his tan skin shone with the hint of iridescent golden scales. Eryx's similarly golden slit pupils danced around the room to survey the others present. Some seemed familiar from descriptions he'd heard of promising adventurers while others like the little girl were a mystery.

"If the Church has need of those of small renown such as myself, I fear they are in a bad state, indeed."

His people had little time or regard for the supposedly dull humans and their supposedly debased and misguided veneration of the Silver Flame. It was nothing compared to the true worship performed by his people, so the dogma went, but Eryx found most of these humans charming and doing the best they knew how to venerate their god force and live good lives. He had to respect that even if he felt his people's ways were superior.

A young elven woman with long, straight red hair wearing plain clothing with a brown cloak sits in one of the chairs. A brown feathered owl familiar perches on the back of her chair. Aurora looks around the parlor, its decor is certainly grander than any room she's been in before. She sits anxiously, like she's afraid that if she moves she might break something expensive. "I can't imagine something much nicer than this." The young elven woman replies to Shem. Much like the gnome, her elven heritage makes her age difficult to discern. She appears to be in her early 20s but could be much older.

She takes out a book from the satchel at her feet and begins flipping through it. She wonders why she of all people would be summoned here. She has some talent as a mage for sure, but she doesn't believe herself go be talented enough to be of use in whatever endeavour the church has called them all here for.

In a chair next to Charm slouches a black-haired girl of 19 with a familiar resemblance to the younger girl beside her. Jyn’s dressed in a fitted bodysuit cluttered with gadgets. She’s sprawled sideways in her seat, her back leaning against one armrest, legs draped casually over the other, her fingers tapping restlessly on the chair’s back.

"Ugh!" she groans, rolling her eyes. "Why do fancy, important people always make you wait so bloody long?"

Her gaze drifts over the others in the room, taking them in with a mixture of mild interest and skepticism. They all look capable enough for whatever they’re here for, but the only one she’s sure of is Charm. Charm’s solid, maybe even a little scary sometimes, but solid.

Jyn glances at her sister, her expression softening briefly into a small smile. "Been a while since I’ve been somewhere like this," she says, jumping into the small talk with an easy smirk. "Posh folks like this… never got anything good up their sleeves."

Acolyte simply stood.

His shield was slung across his back, his warhammer hanging from his belt, and his splint mail was integrated into his very body. (One of the perks of being Warforged.) During the war, he had been tasked with a unique duty -- he was an acting guard for some of the less combat-ready Clerics. It often resulted in times just like this: waiting. He may have picked up a few pointers, but as he wasn't of the church himself he rarely participated in their Cleric-y activities.

His eyes glowed a soft blue, and it was hard to tell if he was looking around or straight ahead. His head wasn't moving, for whatever help that was. When the others complained about the wait or how important they potentially were (or were not) he almost responded... but he realized it didn't really matter.

And so he simply stood.

When the man enters, Acolyte gives a polite dip of his head. When the girl enters... he is as surprised as the rest. Not entirely sure how to respond, he instead gives her his full and undivided attention.

When she pauses, he waits for her to continue. Questions can wait till the end of whatever she has to say.

Riv sits silently stoic. Our metallic fellow waiting in clerically-minded anticipation.

Charm quits fidgeting and looks attentive. It's her too, not her dark rider gathering information. She doesn't see many girls her age in her life now. Maybe they could be friends, she seemed nice.

Shem adjusts himself in the chair so he is sitting more properly. He doesn't care what the man thinks, but oddly doesn't want the girl to think he has no manners.

Eryx looked cardinals and clerics and paladins in the eye without blinking. They were all equals in the eyes of the Flame... but this girl... Eryx sank to one knee and bowed his head before her.

"I know not how I can help achieve such a feat, Chosen One, but I will do whatever you ask."

As debased as the elders claimed the humans were, the Flame was clearly manifesting through this human child, and Eryx would heed her words.

Shem nods. "Ok," he says. "But can you tell us any more about why the Flame says this will take great heroes?" he asks Jaela.

Aurora puts her book away as soon as Jaela begins speaking. She was surprised to find that the voice of the flame was so young.

"And what makes you think that we're the heroes that you need." She asks the young girl. Despite her accomplishments, Aurora considers most of what she can do with magic to be simple parlor tricks which doesn't make her much of a hero.

Jyn leans back, looking thoroughly at ease as she listens to the discussion, letting out a quiet sigh. She isn’t too fazed that someone young seems to be calling the shots here; after all, she’s seen the kind of raw power kids can wield—just look at Charm.

"Sooo..." she drawls, "sounds simple enough to me. We go in, take down some hobgobbo’s, and get out." She shrugs. "And we get paid, I assume. But... yeah... before I forget... we gotta be discreet though, I get that. Don’t wanna kick off another war. And there’s plenty of shady big players... plus it's just more than one little tribe of hobgoblins... and we are working for some very important people..." She counts on her fingers and whistles one long not when she comes to one imaginary, impressive, conclusion. "That sounds like one very hefty bag of gold."