Trip to Brigtun Barrow

[Obsidian Sea]

Timothy Skyraven is ushered into a quieter parlour room at the back of the manor by a humbly dressed man, who takes him by the arm and pulls him aside shortly after the Paladin begins granting aid. It is evident that though he masters his sword and his shield, Timothy Skyraven has not the talents of a medic and a healer, and he becomes a distraction and a difficulty to the hurriedly acting nurses of the manor although his intentions ring true and honourable.

"Stand aside of them," says the man in a rich baritone voice as he takes Timothy Skyraven elsewhere, "They know what they are doing. Such injuries are a pitiable reality for the Warswords, for no end is in sight for the ranks of the Hobgoblin armies that marshal in the west. Your aid we appreciate, but in this it is not needful. Might I fix you a drink, friend?"

The man speaks handsomely, though he is dressed in many fur and woollen layers and is in all detectable ways a peasant wandered into the manor. Perhaps he is the husband of one of the nurses, or a brother to an injured Warsword, however he moves liberally to open a cabinet and procure a scotch - one for himself, and another for Timothy if he would be willing. It is a strange action, and one that might likely offend the lord of the manor were he to see it. His green eyes, lacking much lustre or definition, settle back upon Timothy Skyraven as he pours his scotch - this man is yet another in a sea of faces that Timothy has passed by and interacted with since coming to Brigtun Barrow, which seems strangely full of bustle for a place so meagre and modest.

"My pardon, I did not ask your name, good sir. Fear not for the Warswords, they will be attended. What can be done will be done, let there be no doubt. This manor serves as a station of recovery for them when it is needed. But you are neither injured nor a Warsword, yet you have the honourable forthrightness in your bearing of a warrior, and a knight. Come, sit with me a time, and let me know who you are - and, absolutely, what brings you to the manor of Lord Warsalandryl. No man is turned away in rudeness."

[Shadowtim3]

The young Chevalier paladin followed the man. His own wool simple blue shirt, where the man grabbed, made his arm warmer before he was released. Rubbing his neck, he smiles softly as he looked into the other room. Perhaps wishing he took his fathers advice and learn medicine more. No matter, he looked to the man as he declines the offer. "I swore off alcohol, sir. I appreciate the offer, however."

Noticing where he got the alcohol, he raises a brow as he walked over. "Are you sure the master of this house would want you helping yourself without permission, sir?" He obviously disapproved of the liberal taking of alcohol. Though with what's going on in the other room, he pulled out his coin purse and placed enough coins for a replacement bottle on the shelf. A quick note explaining what the money was for folded around the coin. "Considering what's going on in the other room, I amazed that the lord isn't in here drinking a glass himself. Must be busy helping out the nurses, I guess."

He does let him lead the young paladin to the chairs. "It's fine, sir. My name is Timothy Skyraven a paladin of Ilmater. I'm seeking a lord to swear fealty to and Kelda, a priestess of Ilmater, suggested Lord Warsalandryl to me. So I came here first at her suggestion. Pray, may I ask your name, sir?"

[Obsidian Sea]

"Lord Rykard Warsalanydryl."

The man stands before Timothy Skyraven for a moment after the admission, smiling gently as though to suggest some silent pride at the suggest with which his identity has been thus far veiled. Looking upon him in the light of the introduction makes remarkably little difference to his appearance: even now, he is a simple man, modestly but thoroughly dressed to deal with the winter, and indistinguishable from another man in the village in all but his somewhat slighter frame which suggests less reliance upon physical labour than the common man. If Lord Warsalanydryl recognises the distinction, however, it does not show in his decision to foster the costume of his subjects.

The lord of Brigtun Barrow crosses the room again, and he picks up Timothy Skyraven's note. He reads it, humouring the situation, and then he smiles. He pours the coins from one hand into the next and holds them out to Timothy.

"Paladin, I have received your letter, and respect the sentiment greatly. But here: take back your coin again," the man smiles richly, aware of his own jest. "As for the alcohol, it is fine to be drunk, though I respect that you are sworn from it. This glass might be all from the bottle that is imbibed. I give up much of the stock for the benefit of the nurses: for the benefit, for that matter, of the Warswords."

Lord Warsalanydryl crosses the threshold to stand in view of the next foyer, temporarily converted to an infirmary.

"Proud men, with more suffering than they deserve. They do it for us: for the woman and children of my village, and for the safely of all of Impiltur. It is the least that can be done for them that my home is open for them. Two will lose a limb this night: I know it, seeing the extent of their injuries."

He sighs, disappointed, yet he has a holy virtue in not letting his disappointment be infected by pity or gloom. Now, addressing the Paladin of Ilmater more directly, he returns to the smile of a host, and gestures to a seat.

"Let us sit for a time together, Paladin. You have come with questions. Not so many would allow a foreign man into his home, holding my station, but I will not turn away a friend in the faith, let alone a knight. What is it you require to know to put your mind at ease?"

[Shadowtim3]

He was obviously awestruck and dumbfounded till he was handed back his coin. Shaking his head to regain his wits as he puts the coins back in his coin purse. "My father use to say that 'A clear mind is a chevaliers second best tool. A clear faith was his first best. ' As for the injured I've seen this before. Doesn't help to lessen the feeling of helplessness, though. My training isn't far enough along to use divine magic yet." He sighs deeply as he looked out into the room. Rubbing his neck when he was addressed directly. Turning in time to see the gestures for a seat.

He does take a seat, relaxing a bit as he pulled a canteen off his belt for a bit more comfort. Though there was still a couple pouches and packs on his belt. "I have a few, you kind of took me by surprise, my lord." He chuckles as he laid the canteen at his plated boot. "But from what I can see, you're respected by your people. And that speaks a lot about how you treat them. Truth be told, I am pleasantly surprised by how modest you are given your seat. If you don't mind me saying."

[Obsidian Sea]

Lord Rykard Warsalanydryl is courteous to Timothy Skyraven throughout their dialogue. He smiles, and dismisses Timothy's mention of his modesty. Versed in the teachings of Ilmater, the Paladin might be the first to recognise the further demonstration of humility in Lord Warsalanydryl's choice not to quote dogma with him in order to defend his modesty. As cries of pain and soothing nurse's voices are heard all throughout the manor, it is clear that the Lord of Brigtun Barrow speaks through his actions, not his words. And those actions are Good, seemingly without error or temptation for wrong.

"Your father speaks wisely. I trust you take after his wisdom, though I shall only know it once our dialogue has gone further. What are your questions? Speak, and I shall listen."

//OOC: We shall set the events of this Offline RP thread at late Ches (March), owing to the protracted period time over which we have been working upon it. I apologise for the inefficiency, though we shall hope to conclude soon. Due to the timing of this event, the hope is that Timothy Skyraven will not be restricted or obliged to ongoing events, and both shall be carried out simultaneously. I recognise that this is the fault of the team, not the player. Bear with us, and I will prioritise the resolution of this thread.

[Shadowtim3]

Spoiler:

OOC: It's not a problem, man. ^_^ Real life and managing the forums and server takes a lot of work and we're only human so mistakes are a given. XD So I'm able to wait. This will take as long as it takes.

"One can only hope. And I try to act upon wisdom. Still, I think it would be best to say why I came before I ask." The young paladin dug in his pouches. The obvious enchantments showing as he reached nearly to his elbow before pulling out a ornate scroll. Obviously one of the taxes from the tax office. Offering it to the lord with a soft smile. "I came to these lands to rebuild my clan, as I promised King Dragonbane when he released me and what was left of my clan from my father's oath of fealty. And I figured the first step was to start off at the lowest position I can obtain first. Citizenship."

He rubs his neck as he looks towards the cries of pain outside the room. Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out a well made healers kit. Setting it on a tray or table outside the door before returning to his seat. "With the dangers of the hobgoblins, I'm amazed that your citizens are so carefree and it answers many questions I had concerning how you treat them."

[Obsidian Sea]

"It is the case for, I fear, too many people to think that coin is the giver of happiness. Brigtun Barrow is a modest place, and within it are modest people, all beloved by me. I return my duties as a Lord back to them as are right fit, I hope, guided by my faith. A mutual faith to your own, honourable Paladin. If I trespass against them, let my deeds upon the next day earn me forgiveness for my transgression."

The Lord of Brigtun Barrow is smiling and silent as he watches Timothy Skyraven pass across the parlour to leave a healing kit for use by the nurses.

"Thank you. Being a small and modest place, we are not the place of deposit for many of the wealthiest goods of the nation. Kindness from any man is appreciated.

"You speak of King Dragonbane. You are Damaran. Have you come to my door to swear fealty? Your diligence I admire, and let it be ever known that I would not turn away a Paladin of Ilmater on my doorstep, for if ever Our Lord Upon The Rack gave a man sign of His wish, it was in such a shape as this. As a subject, I would take you on, and do it most gladly if it is the Hobgoblin threat that you take to combating. And yet I wonder what hope or interest you have in rebuilding your clan in our good kingdom of Impiltur? Have you forsaken Damara, Timothy?"

[Shadowtim3]

"There is no transgression. I haven't forsaken Damara. However, I cannot safely rebuild there either. Many of the lords who were near by blame my father's kindness and mercy to why his village was destroyed. Why his clan all but perished. And claim that my own kindness and mercy will do the same if I rebuild there." He sighs heavily as he leans on his plated knees. "This line of thinking spread to the village folk, save for those who were with me when I went to rescue the villagers."

Thinking on it a moment, he shakes his head. "So it was a need to leave more than a want. And since I established good relations with some fellow adventurers here, I figured here would be a good place to re-earn what my clan lost."

[Obsidian Sea]

Thereafter, Lord Warsalanydryl expresses his willingness to be the Paladin of Ilmater's lord, for as long as he chooses to bide his time within Impiltur. Believing that it would not be gracious to do otherwise, even if he had his doubts, the Lord sustains humility long enough to seem as thankful to Timothy Skyraven for having showed up on his doorstep as Timothy might be thankful for the Lord's appreciation of him.

Lord Warsalanydryl inquires as to where the Paladin has ventured from to meet him, and finds polite coincidence in the discovery that he has traveled out of Sarshel. If Timothy has deemed service under the Lord of Brigtun Barrow to be a worthy cause, and sworn his fealty, it is the next instruction of the Lord to provide him with a map that will aid him in returning promptly to Sarshel, where he believes the efforts to combat the Hobgoblins in the mountains to be highest.

"Should you wish to participate in the battle against this Evil foe of the nation, then it is to Sarshel that you ought to go. I hear of Warswords and adventurers alike having their greatest successes in that stretch of the kingdom. I believe that if we are to claim foothold in the mountains and push back the tide of these conquering subhumans, we shall have those stationed in Sarshel to thank for it. See to it that you are one of them, and your honour as a Paladin and as an ally to Impiltur can never again be questioned."

So saying to Timothy Skyraven, and awaiting the man's reply, Lord Warsalanydryl readily expresses a need to adjourn again to the medical rooms to aid in the work with the Warswords. Once Timothy would have said his part, it would seem his time spent in Brigtun Barrow, brief as it was, had the purpose of returning him to the region from which he traveled, where danger yet lingers, awaiting destruction at the hands of the righteous.

[Shadowtim3]

The young paladin looked over the map as the tax was signed. With a nod of understanding, he smiles as he looks to the lord. "I have my orders then, my lord. My sisters and brother will come here if that's okay." Taking the map humbly, he nods as he smiles. An air tight tube was pulled out of one of his packs. Gently putting the map in there, he hangs it from his belt. Equipping the rest of his armor, perhaps for convenience rather than protection as the straps were undone on the side.

"If I'm needed here, don't hesitate to send word. By oath, I'm to answer the call if I can." Lifting the canteen from the floor, he smiles as he bows to the lord. "Till you call, my lord." He head out and returns to Sarshel. Determined now to aid in culling the attacks from the hobgoblins, and orcs, and various hostile subhumans. If there was nothing else, he bows politely. The paladin letting the lord return to his duty while Tim went to fulfill his orders.