Outside of Boltic: Chapter 1

Stepping out from behind a tree, a small man with a sneer stares at the creature before him. Thick leather armor pads his shoulders and midsection while a holy book hangs off his belt, a small paper prayer waxed onto the armor to the left of his chest, and the red "I" of the inquistion emblazoned in the center. Tattoos encircle his arms and a unlit candle rides on his right shoulder. Abuckler is attached to his arm and a bow, along with a hefty pack, is slung behind his back. For as small as he is, his well worn face, dressed with a red glass eyepatch, shows he is not to be trifled with. He spits at the ground in front of her and utters a single word.

"Witch."

It's not a question more of statement of fact as he looks around for whoever may have summoned him here. He would very much rather it not be this hag before him or they would have serious problems. He looked around to see if, hoping, anyone else was there.

He continues to look around, hoping beyond hope that this conversation is not the reason he's here. "The arcane arts are all the same. My order hunts those that wield them. While it is known that some amount of . . . necessary evil exists in the world, I personally have never had to work alongside a hex-jockey." Bek spits again making it more then clear he isn't around to chit chat. "Are you the one who's got the job for me or not?"

"I am going to have to agree with this . . . thing here. Your offer is too vague to sell my soul yet. Death is not the reward I am looking for either. Gemstones would suffice though. Emeralds, rubies, diamonds the size a child's fist will more than make up for a suicide mission." Bek glances around him, calling attention to the lack of bodies present. "Also, if we are the only two you have coming to knock on your opportunity's door, I can tell already that we will have our work cut out for us." Bek keeps trying to discern what is underneath the hood trying to size the fella up. He keeps talking as he looks the figure up and down. "So what is the job? Tell me and if it is worth it, I may just will sign my life away."

Bek holds the stone up to the full moon and lets the light catch it just so. It shimmers like stars in the sky. "How about that? This will do. And if those coffers are as full as you say they are, then you may have yourself a deal." Bek pockets the stone in one of his belt pouches. "I too do not like going in blind. What more, if anything can you tell us or give us to prepare for this journey?"

Bek places a bit of ceremony on the signing. He utters the words of an orison and light begins to shine from the candle wick on his shoulder in the shape of a steady flame, giving off a warm orange glow. He is careful to read every word and understand the limitations before looking up and making eye contact, if it can be called that, with the hooded figure. "I would prefer a wartrained riding dog if possible but a horse will do if that is all you have." Regardless of the answer, Bek takes the quill and signs his name. He then takes a single arrow and pricks his finger allowing a single drop of blood to follow his signature. "Now it is official in the custom of my order." He hands the contract back to the seeker.

Bek watches the figure until he's gone. Turns to the hag and says, "Like I said, necessary evils. I guess I'll see you at the wayhouse, witch." And with that he turns on his heel and slinks off, heading toward the wayhouse.

Walking into the way house looking the part of a man a bit rough around the edges Graddy probably didn’t catch many eyes. Travel had taken longer than expected to get to the location of the meetup and for all intents and purposes he was late. With no one at the area he thought the meeting was supposed to be he either missed the meeting or botched things in the wilderness and went to the wrong location completely. He scowled a bit his mood a foul due to his bad luck and misfortune. But here, right now, he was just another bloke wanting some mead and to forget the worries and troubles in life for another night washing them into the fog of his mind, although the place seemed busy the vibe was friendly enough as he moved through the crowd.

Pulling off a hood and shaking shoulder length blond hair free the man ran fingers over his face and a scraggily beard that hide the jawline too angular to be just human. Figuring he was presentable enough to not be deemed a beggar he’d slap a hand down in front of him on the bar when the bartender looked his way, "Oy, gimme a mead mate." a gravelly voice requested putting money on the bar before he set his jaw in place. A few days on the road and missing his meeting might have made it seem more of a snarling request than polite but Graddy was never known for his politeness. While waiting for his order of mead at the bar he’d turn around and survey the area trying to find out who didn’t seem like a local, they’d probably not look dirty or like they shoveled dung for a living someone with the look of defeat and/or depression in their eyes… actually Graddy in retrospect figured if he didn’t have a sword on his belt and a bow on his back he probably would look the part of a local…or a highway bandit he thought to himself smirking at his own self-reflection and ridicule.

For now he’d just survey the area and see where the night took him.

OoC: Perception check looking for other adventures and if there is one any gambling going on if I don't find anyone or work room for the night won't pay for itself.

A need for income makes strange bellows.

Graddy thought to himself as he wondered about the woman in the foreign armor. She definitely stood out in this crowd, with the dwarf behind him getting his attention Graddy broke his gaze from the bar’s patrons and the woman that stood out to see what it was. Accepting the horn with a grunt Graddy motioned to the table. "’nother when ye get a minute mate, to the table, if you please." he requested tapping the bar with two gloved fingers that slide away as he moved from the bar, he took a long pull of the mead swishing it in his mouth before making his way through the crowd towards the table, mead was decent, granted when you’re on the road for a few days and the dirt seems to have gotten everywhere even inside your throat even trough water wets the whistle. In that regards this was definitely the better option, once there he’d move taking a seat directly across from the lady.

"Since you don’t seem like one of the local type love," Graddy began looking around, "What’s a lady like you doing in a place like this?" Graddy asked as he took another pull of mead keeping eye contact with the woman as he did so, he didn’t seem on edge but he wasn’t relaxed either, it didn’t sound like a pickup line as much as general curiosity in a rather direct tone.

(OoC: Is there going to be a posting order or is it hodge podge and we post whenever? If there’s an order I don’t mind waiting.)

Tall people always seem to be in a hurry. The witch looked back smugly like she had somehow won because she would get to the wayhouse faster. Halflings enjoy a life of simpler things, slower speeds, tastier foods. Somewhere inside, even though his order has done a steady job of drilling discipline into him, Bek still craves the slower paced lifestyle of his forebears. You should not fight who you are. He can no longer think of home without remembering the day the hexers attacked and burned their smials out from the inside. He was almost not found by the inquisitors that chased the witches as he hid among the wreckage. It was because of that they figured he could be of some use.

As he arrives at the wayhouse, he looks inside and sees the bustling scene. It is not really his gig. All the people and the pretentious platitudes they give each other. He does not even drink. The order forbids imbibing on the principal that one must always be ready to recieve an attack. And so instead he takes a deep breath, heads inside, and stops by the bar to ask for his room. He orders food and asks for it to be sent up instead of eating here in the common room. As he looks about, he sees the hag flirting. He can see through her transparent ploy and curls his lips in disdain. "Would not expect anything less from her manipulative kind," he thinks to himself before making to leave the common room.

Graddy’s ears perk up with the talk of opportunity especially since one had been supposedly found. Money seemed to have a way of motivating him if there was enough of it for the task at hand. Graddy smiles a bit around him horn of mead still on his lips at the exchange between the lady and a Halfling who seemed to also be out of place compared to the locals and her reaction to him.

"I guess looking for opportunities o’ work ‘s well, I missed my boat in the night this time around it seems, could find the meetup for the job. Bloody shame I guess, so… time to get drunk." He explained around the horn thumbing at the door taking another sip, "Name’s Graddy. If the pay outs good, I work and do my job." he explained lowering his horn and wiping his mouth and beard with his free hand before swirling the rest of the contents a bit as he stared at it before letting his gaze drift to the Halfling that seemed to be busying himself with his own agenda of tasks which didn’t seem to involve the lady or the local patrons.

"What’s yer story with the we’ bloke." he inquired nodding towards the Halfling doing his own thing, "Too much spirits one night and a bit o regret?" he jested a bit crass before taking another pull of the mead eyeing the woman.

Bek heads up to his room and begins to remove his armor. Once he only in his woolen shirt, he opens up his prayer book. "The full sum of the heretics shall be known on the Day of Judgement," he starts to read. "Pray for those that wil not pray for themselves," it continues. "Find those that will not repent and punish their transgressions. As for the doctrine which I have taught, my conscience assureth me that it is sound and according to the Word of God ... in confirmation thereof I seal the same with my blood." He takes out a small strap of rope, some caltrops tied into it and begins to flagelate his back. Not enough to cause serious damage but enough to satisfy the lord that watches over him. After a sufficient while, he stops and closes the book. He grabs a towel and wipes the sweat from his brow. Theres a knock at his door. "Hopefully that is the food," Bek thinks as he turns toward the door, small welts of blood soaking through his shirt.

Graddy listened nodding before replying, "Huh... my missed job seemed a bit similar. Vague on the details, heavy on taking the job with little intel all around, very cloak dagger. But that's why we make the coin we do and all it'nent? High risk high reward and all that. If 'es looking for a bit of extra muscle I don't mind a bit of work if it puts ample coin in my pockets." he stated stroke his scruff with the palm of his gloved hand.

"As for the wee one everyone hates something or somebody least he's honest about it and doesn't put up airs. Everyone has a role to play you don't have to like people just work with 'em." Graddy commented slogging down the last of his mead.

Graddy eyed the woman's hand and the table and raised an eyebrow.

Right... better keep this bird away from my bow... he thought to himself.

"Well I guess I'll get a room for the night after my next one comes, can't get too drunk really with my current funds. If I get in on the job in the morning makes for a nasty journey when yur 'ead feels knackered." Graddy added looking around for his second mead. He'd spend a bit of time waiting or to see of the lady had anything else she wanted to discuss, if not he'd make due with getting a room and sleeping until he could find about getting work in the morning.

(OoC: Trying to give the other two time to finish their builds.)

Bek takes the tray and sets it on his desk. He says a quick prayer of thanks and then lifts the towel to set in. He thinks of ways to research where they are going but for the most part he is stuck here in this backwater until the morning. He finishes his soup and prepares for bed. Before he falls asleep, he retrieves the adamantine arrow from his pack and whispers over it. "One day I will find you." He locks the door and crawls into bed, his hand holding the arrow.

At the edge of the woods, Urthask gently signaled for Arktos to stop and the great bear slowed to a halt, allowing his rider to dismount. The hulking, armored half-orc patted his best friend's furry neck soothingly. The bear rumbled reassuringly. For many moons they had been traveling, so very far from the icy plains they called home, on the trail of the Lost Riders, as his tribe called them. The riders were Urthask's kin by blood, but also his brothers in arms. For countless generations the frostkin half-orcs had spilled much blood in the defense of their home from invaders and wild beasts of the tundra. One of the most savage of these beasts was the ghost bear, a fearsome animal with white fur, a rime of frost around its muzzle, and pale blue eyes. Urthask’s father, Galazur, learned to befriend and train these beasts, turning a fearsome enemy into a valuable ally. He taught other warriors to become Beast Riders and inducted them into an elite fighting group that called themselves the Order of the Bear. Two summers ago Galazur had set out with four hand-picked Riders on a mission to learn what they could of the lost city of Graystone. No one, not even those of the Order, knew what Galazur hoped to find or what they hoped to accomplish with it, but they had never been heard from again. Now Urthask and Arktos were attempting to track them down and learn what had become of them.

Urthask strained his eyes towards the lights of human habitation in the near distance - Boltic by name, he had learned. His eyes scanned the clearing warily. He and Arktos had no fear of travelling by night but it had been a long stretch and both were looking forward to some rest. He wasn't eager to visit another settlement though. Their last few encounters with civilized folk had gone less than favorably. Few places were very welcoming to half-orcs in general, never mind a rough barbarian and his bear mount that tended to spook all the horses. The had been chased out of the last town. It had been difficult stopping Arktos from tearing the town guard to shreds on the way out. They would rather have avoided all contact with civilization altogether but it was important that they leave no stone unturned on their search. As it was, clues were few and far between. But the trail had not yet gone cold.

Urthask looked up at the stars. The Great Bear was high in the night sky. A good omen. They would camp in this clearing tonight, he decided, and visit the settlement in the morning. He began setting up their camp.

Having set up camp (no fire - nighttime in these southlands are quite balmy compared to home) Urthask gives Arktos the haunch of the deer they caught the other day. He himself munches on the last of the bison jerky. After their meal the young rider strips off his armor but keeps his weapons at hand. He leans against the bear's warm flank and wonders for the thousandth time about Galazur and the Lost Riders. Where are they now? Have they found what it is that they seek? Urthask longs to hear their voices again. What tales they would tell!

With a bit of small talk and a possible job offer in the morrow Graddy was a bit out of options for topics. He could ask a bit about the lady's past but that might be a touché subject. Granted that means he'd have to cough up a bit of his past as well. After a side glance toward his new possible work associate he nodded and drank his mead and people watched. Being able to be quiet was oddly refreshing. Actually it was pretty easy to remain perfectly still when not drinking and look around the tavern.

OOC: Urthask didn't light a campfire. :-)

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Startled & angry, both bear and half-orc scramble to their feet and take defensive stance. "What?! Who goes there? How do you know of Urthask, son of Galazur?!!"

Instead of relaxing, Urthask tenses up. "Your name. Tell me, stranger. You know of Galazur's Riders?"

Urthask lowers his weapon but stays wary. "I'm listening."

Urthask takes the scroll and reads. "My people speak solemn oaths and those oaths we keep. I'll sign your paper, little man, but it means nothing to me. I will return your lost bauble to you." Urthask signs his name, then points up at the stars. "This I swear on the Great Bear and the ashes of my ancestors. Urthask, son of Galazur, swears this." He hands the contract back to Bane. "In addition to the promised reward you will tell me what you know of Graystone and of my lost clansmen."

After a pause he adds, "Also, I am low on supplies."

Urthask examines the gem briefly before pocketing it reverently, hoping his excitement isn't too obvious to the stranger. His people never cared very much for gold or silver. Gems, however...gems represented the celestial bodies. Outsiders often think of his tribe as brutish barbarians, hardly more civilized than animals, but his people are warrior poets, composing epic skalds and songs telling of mighty deeds and the beauty of the land they call home. Furthermore, the frostkin are astronomers. The tundra is littered with stone circles and monoliths, complex monuments built by his ancestors, that study the movements of the heavens, and tracking the journey of the sun across the sky, marking equinox and solstice. This star sapphire that this stranger Bane has just given him is precious. The renewed hope of finding the Lost Riders is even more so.

"You and the others you've contracted will find us here in the morning." Urthask says, his hand on Arktos' great neck.

"Either I showed up late or went to the wrong clearing I’m guessing, can’t say knowing my way around backwoods would be my strong suite." Graddy explained in an even tone, it wasn’t apologetic or accusing really before he paused and finished his mug,

"Lady here stated someone had a bit of work where more boots might be needed, I’m figure if the offer still stands as long as it’s not running around trying to find clearings in the forest I’m up for the job if it pays well. I’ve already meet the short wanker specializing in giving people the stink eye. If I’m hired I figure we’re headed off somewhere in the morning, do a task, get payment on completion. Then we’ll be ‘s right as rain mate." Graddy added eying the possible employer.

People with secrets weren’t really something Graddy got curious about, as long as they paid up and it didn’t lead to a double cross he didn’t really care if it was a group of intelligent forest creatures messing with them, just as long as they paid well in the end.

Graddy shrugged and took the parchment unfirling in and giving it a once over. "Right well isn’t it grand we could clear all that up…" Graddy stated giving it a once over, "looks propa so ‘ou want it signed ‘n blood o ink mate?" Graddy inquired tapping the scroll and the a aforementioned line, "Seemed to not bring a quill with me." he added.

(OoC: No idea if Graddy can actually read though... XD Ha!)

Graddy nodded and picked up the quill and dabbed into the ink scrawling out his mark. "Well with that done I'm off to bed contract won't complete itself. Boss... Blue.." he stated before standing and nodding back to the two before leaving. Graddy talked to the proprietor for a room for the night. Taking off his armor once in the room he crashed hard falling fast asleep with a knife still in his hand. Visions of riches after the job dancing through his mind.