Session 10: Rell's Log

General Summary

A slight trail of spittle lingered between my mouth and the pillow as I blearily lifted my head. I was in the Diplomat barracks I realised as I wiped the back of my hand over my face. How had I ended up here?   Groaning as the remnants of drink assaulted my head, I rose fully and took in a few seemingly lifeless sleeping bodies around me. Noone stirred, and I rubbed my eyes several times before lowering myself to the floor to draw out a chest of personal belongings. It only took a moment before I located the piece I needed, a tight-fitting light turquoise bodice, embroidered with silver and black thread. It was better than anything off the rack at the Runaway Pride, cut to my measurement precisely.
Pulling on a white shirt, and black trousers, I laced the piece so that it fitted snugly under my curves and around my waist before flowing out into tails behind me. I tugged on knee-high boots to complete the outfit, standing for a moment with a hand on my hip and wishing that anyone here was awake to appreciate it. My eyes even flicked to her door and back.
A quick search around revealed I’d lost my glaive somewhere on my travels and I hoped dearly it was in Liv’s quarters rather than in the hands of another member of staff. Rubbing my head a little, I trailed out into the common gathering area to find Liv scooping porridge into two bowls. For a moment I thought one was for me until she jogged my memory that Elirith was here too. Thankful that she’d not brought her down here, I helped Liv balance the bowls alongside two mugs of coffee from the large batch and observed her retreat precariously up the stairs. There was something I needed to do here first.
Now that my focus was off my friend, I took in the room around me which carried more causalities of the previous day. Fight nights were always a cause for excess, and the Diplomats currently residing within Haven were not excluded.
Snatching a bowl and cup for myself, I spied Hafan seated at one of the long benches, his coffee mug almost lost in his vast ginger beard as he held it close as if the fumes alone could assist him. Casting the tails of my garment out, I perched close to the dwarf, almost touching as I cheerfully greeted him. If anyone would enjoy me being close to them, it was Hafan. Though I understood why he was a little cranky, as although he congratulated me on my victory, admitted he’d also lost coin on the fight.
I rambled off questions regarding our leader's whereabouts, and he stated how Otho had summoned Mesh a week or so back, sending her into the Wastelands. He’d rolled his eyes at my continued queries but he wasn’t able to tell me much more, other than he deemed it to have been of importance. Hafan had gestured over to a sleeping Kaspiran when I asked if she’d taken another Diplomat with her, stating that he was the one to have seen her leave.
Abandoning my half-eaten meal, I scrambled over to the sprawled human who was deeply amid drunken unconsciousness. His titled back head exposed his pitiful attempts to grow a beard, a scattering of sandy scruff that matched the mop on his head. Whispering and probing him lightly had no effect and I eyed the custom-made crossbow that had fallen to the floor, inches from his fingers. A final sharp jab awoke him and thankfully didn’t result in the need to dodge a bolt.
He’d mumbled for coffee, but I ignored him, moving my face close to his own and once again asking after Mesh. Blurrily he offered that she’d gone into the tunnels with Dhaer, alone without another Diplomat. Frustration gnawed that I’d been off with the Freelancers when I should have been here to support her. Gritting my teeth, I let loose a sigh. She didn’t need me of course, if anything it was the other way around.
I missed her.
On delivering the requested coffee, Kas had already fallen asleep, so I left the steaming beverage at his side for when he awoke. Quickly arranging half of my hair into braids, I headed up into Halo to see Sandra clearing up the last of the frivolities, and I hurriedly avoided her gaze in case she asked me to assist as I would have as a child.
Elirith was back in her elven form, wearing the beautiful green dress and Liv was in the shirt and trousers that made her look smart even if she was uncomfortable. Elirith, on the other hand, seemed more self-assured; perhaps the night in her true form had reinvigorated her and allowed her to be more comfortable than she’d been in a long while. I hoped that to be accurate because she’d certainly enjoyed herself.
We headed back to the public portal into Haven, retrieving Elirith’s daggers from Smash and Bash. The golems also passed Liv and I the new staff password, “Lost” in dwarven. This could only mean the portal location had changed and sure enough, we found ourselves in the Memorial Gardens after passing through the swirling spell.
Although this entrance was a little more secure, it was in the middle of the hedge maze but Elirith strode off as though she knew a route. Liv and I followed, but we ended up at several dead ends that were thankfully empty of lovers at this time of the morning. One bench in particular, sparked a fond memory, and I let myself smile unabashedly, though I doubted either of my companions noticed.
Finally, out of the maze, I pictured Leith’s condescending glare and mentioned that I’d like to find a flower seller to complete my outfit. Luckily we were in the right place and soon found a dwarven woman just setting off for the day. Eilrith certainly seemed less timid as she approached and offered to buy all of us flowers. Liv was completely disinterested, but we disregarded her complaints as a buttercup was tucked into her lapel. Elirith asked for a green flower to match her dress, and I helped weave it into her hair. For myself, I also requested something to compliment my clothing and received an exotic rose which I placed carefully into my own locks.
Elirith overpaid which I thought of as strange but didn’t question, and we were about to head for the Soul Plaza when she requested we instead head through Shepard’s Rest. There was such a note of importance in her tone that I couldn’t stop a frown, questioning her reasoning. She cast her eyes to the side and offered that she wanted to take a more scenic route. There was nothing of the sort through that neighbourhood, and she evidently had a purpose she was unwilling to share. When she was evasive a second time, I smiled and agreed to follow her via Shepard’s Rest. Whatever her reason it was apparently significant to her, even if she felt unable to share it.
In sharp contrast to her promise of the picturesque, Elirith wandered to the most deprived areas where beggers gathered openly in the streets. She was searching for someone or something, her eyes darting this way and that, her neck strained to catch sight of concealed faces. Liv and I left her alone as she approached two such huddled figures, though I saw she offered some rations and water from her bag.
She looked slightly deflated after the encounter and didn’t continue to search the streets, so I could only assume she’d uncovered some type of information. Biting my lip, I desperately want to ask but I knew she would have already told me if she’d wanted me to know.
Robyn was already waiting for us in the Soul Plaza, her armour had been extensively polished, with her clothes and boots looking spruce and clean. With her short sword at her side, she looked both striking and a little alluring, though her profile seemed wrong without her large bow.
She confirmed that she travelled with Saman to the makeshift encampment outside Bastion where they located the Gnomish tinkerer. I laughed as she mentioned that she’d been rudely instructed to leave while he repaired the Warforged and enquired as to whether she had lost Saman. As if on cue Saman arrived and instantly noticed how the metal sections on his person had been replaced with a shiny copper or brass. They followed where I’d expect plate armour to protect and he relayed how they allowed him to feel far more sensations than previously.
Liv tested by running her fingers along a section, whereas I unwisely went for a friendly jab. Pins and needles shot up my arm as I shook the pain away, though Saman confirmed almost with a smirk that he could indeed feel both. It was still so bizarre to be interacting with a Warforged in this way that I quickly strode away towards the ceremonial guards.
After a short conversation, we were allowed through, yet I regretted bringing my glaive with me as I received a few displeased comments. Elirth remarked that she couldn’t imagine me with any other weapon, and I’d giggled, saying I’d be more than glad to demonstrate any others to her.
Moving inside the building itself, we were soon approached by a page boy clutching a large tome to his chest. Calling himself Desmond, he eluded to working for Chief Archivist Orthiel and was to guide us towards the council chamber. At first he asked us to leave our weapons propped up again the wall before I urged him to allocate somewhere safer. Storing my glaive inside a broom closet felt unnerving and without its accustomed comfort, the reality of where we were sunk in a little further.
Abruptly everything seemed like a threat and tension worked its way over my shoulders. The boy had dropped his heavy burden inside a nearby room before speeding off, assumedly to alert the council to our presence. Swallowing, the roof of my mouth feeling coarse and dry, my nerves got the better of me, and I cautiously opened the door to check what insidious works he’d been tasked with. A flood of embarrassment made me scoff when the elvish script revealed the book to be on the subject of wheat production.
Leaning against the wall and rapidly trying to calm my pounding heart, Desmond returned, swinging around the corner as only a child could. He lead us upwards, round curved stairways and I could feel the vibrations of the soul anchor intensify, resonating through my very being. It only added to my apprehension.
Finally, we reached an elven man in formal dress of a who introduced himself as Godrick and that he would be announcing our arrival to the council. He also reiterated etiquette and protocol warily, as though we might not adhere and it almost allowed a ray of warmth through my churning fear.
After gleaning our names we were ushered into a vast triangular room, the walls of which curved out to form a concave. Protruding ridges, almost like ribs of a gigantic beast coursed periodically with the same energy as the rest of the soul anchor.
Trying to lurk at the back of our small group, I felt sweat gathering down my back as my heart hammered. There they were. In the centre of the chamber was two tables arranged into a triangle to match the room and seated in expectation for our arrival was the seven members of the council.
I walked almost in a daze to meet them, fidgeting and fingers clasping for a weapon that was safely stored far from my reach. We were escorted to a depressed portion of the floor, designed to elevate and reiterate the importance of whom we were being granted an audience. I despised it.
As the Herald introduced us, I cast my eyes over the councilmembers, trying to recall their names and responsibilities. Stoneshield was on our far left, smiling and as overly friendly as the first time we’d met. It only made my lip pinch. Next to him was an elf, whose petite height and stunning raven hair gave her away as Archmage Aelor. She was scrutinising us intensely and appeared quite posed, and I couldn’t help being drawn to the many colourful rings adorning her hands.
Next, I took in the two dwarven women, and I couldn't quite place them, but they are either Ceri Craghammer or Eleri Vineguard, The first had a mess of dirty blonde hair, a wide set nose and a pink flush to her cheeks. The other appeared far more stressed; her forehead wrinkled as she ran a hand through short mousey brown hair that reflected blonde when the walls pulsed their light. Her skin was a flawless shade of mahogany and with her green eyes, she’d be quite attractive if not for the worry she was emanating.
I knew the ancient elf with the cane as Chief Archivist Orthiel, his long white hair wrapped into an immaculate bun before falling loosely down his back. Facial hair was always surprising to see on an elf, but the thin beard and moustache were not out of place and only completed his air of wisdom and experience.
At the centre of the group was High Administrator Ularthi’el. The final elven councilmember was as lean and tall as most of the race, with a hooked nose and a bald head that left him appearing somewhat gaunt. Crescent moon spectacles framed his keen green eyes as he focused not on us, but on the paperwork before him.
Finally, I measured up Goodwin Chancer, the human councilmember with his slicked-back dark hair, flecked with grey. His feature reminds me of a hawk or similar bird of prey, but he smiled graciously at us, but I couldn't meet his eye.
Realising my hands had clenched into fists, I let them go while drawing in long and purposeful breaths. Act like Mesh. Observe, gather information, patience.
Elirith had already begun talking while I’d attempted any manner of self-control, explaining once again our expedition into the Waterworks and beyond. Once she reached the final stretch towards the enormous stalactite, Saman had taken over, struggling to relay his limited observations of the creature we’d tracked. We received the same complaint that I’d voiced myself within the tunnels that we’d followed it to its lair yet turned and fled at the last moment. Looks and mutters of what I deemed to be scorn were exchanged, and I almost spoke my mind on the subject. Before I got my words out, Otho’s piercing stare entered my vision, and I firmly remained silent. They wouldn’t have cared for my thoughts anyway.
One of the dwarven women produced a sketch from Saman’s description, and I more assuredly place her as a Craghammer due to her interest in the infrastructure of the area. Chancer enquired after the location of the stalactite to the city, and I almost rolled my eyes as this topic was raised once again. Elirith gave an overview of the tunnels and did mention that the beast had indeed not attacked anyone that we were aware of.
There was an exchange between Stoneshield and the others in regards to his responsibilities of security against threats outside of the city, before the dark-skinned dwarf revealed herself to be Vineguard by enquiring about the vast source of water we’d located.
While we were informed that we’d be rewarded in coin for our services to the city, I felt the hair on the back of my neck raise as a shiver worked its way down my spine. Something in my gut wanted me to flee, and I rapidly took in every councilmember again, desperately searching for the source of my anxieties. Nothing, and I was infinity glad when we were dismissed back to Godrick, where I quickly took the large purse. Anything to distract me.
We were about to leave when hurried footsteps rang out, and Chancer jogged up to us. Feeling tense once again, I was thankful, if slightly perplexed when he merely invited us to a party he was hosting that evening. While the others were receptive, I refused to internalise my misgivings further and offered a frivolous comment that we’d consider it. Seeing his shoulders slump in visible disappointment, almost made me regret my words.
As we exited the Soul Plaza, I was reminded of something I should have established earlier, and I pulled Elirith aside to ask that she keep the existence of Haven a secret. The tiny frown of confusion washed away any concerns as she voiced that she’d already known implicitly that such was the case.
Due to the proximity, we headed to the Ancestral Archives and into the pre-cataclysm wing where Saman’s living quarters were. He led us into the small room, and I couldn’t help but inquire if he slept on the small bed. While he was still answering to the negative, my gaze fell on his large two-handed weapon. I was already muttering out for permission as I handed my glaive to Liv and lifted the bulky item from its resting place.
Perching myself on the bed, hammer settled over my lap; I inspected the craftmanship as we debated accepting Councilmember Chancer’s invitation. In the end, it came to a vote, to which I was vastly outnumbered. As I stood, I desperately pushed away my desire to allow a bad mood to take hold. Saman’s hammer remained gripped in what might have been a treat had I not been amongst companions.
We discussed our next actions, and Saman revealed that he’d been tasked to retrieve a piece of a material called heartwood from the petrified forest. Knowing the area as a place best avoided and that diplomats from way before my time had entered and never returned, I called out as to the reasonings. The Warforged admitted that the Gnome who’d fixed him had requested it and eluded to it perhaps being of benefit to himself also.
Robyn questioned once again as to how I knew so much about the Wastelands and to whether I was a mercenary. Smiling a little too smugly at the Skirmisher, I flittered around and answered as vaguely as I could. She seemed annoyed at my lack of sincerity, but she’d done nothing to earn my trust. She disliked my carefree nature. I owed her nothing.
I tried to prompt more from her as to what she’d seen in the Wastelands, just in case either myself or Mesh had ever caused her harm inadvertently, however, any half-orcs she mentioned were undoubtedly not my Mentor.
Attending the party was raised again, and we spoke about what could be achieved there, as well as how we might need to alter our behaviour. Foolishly I’d not bothered to conceal myself too well and joked about not being able to take our weapons. My laugh at Robyn’s question about me wanting to cause harm to the council, caused her to shoot me a look as though I was quite deranged.
Bored with the conversation, I measured the weight of the hammer I still wielded and asked Saman if there was an area he trained in. He led us to a small courtyard, and I immediately heaved up the cumbersome weapon and took it through memorized, if mostly unused stances. While I was experienced in all weaponry, this was not my forte, and despite my strength, my muscles protested at the burden. I ended the display with a mighty blow that would have splintered the skull of a foe in two, slamming the hammer into the floor with such force that the stonework cracked.
If Saman was impressed, he didn’t reveal anything, simply retrieving his weapon as I rubbed my forearms a little. Liv was already holding out my glaive to me when Elirith enquired as to whether she might attempt to use it. Smiling broadly and with a nod of confirmation, I couldn’t help a raised eyebrow as she span the long pole around in snaking circles. Her footwork was wrong, the angle of the blade impractical for a strike and she would not have been able to stop the trajectory to her whim, but even so she managed an impressive effort.
Intervening before she hurt herself, I stepped forward and seized the glaive mid-arch, halting both it and her immediately. Elirith relented my glave to me with a smile, quite proud of her achievement and I knew I’d look forward to teaching her how to use any weaponry she requested.
My grip tightened once more, knuckles almost white around the wooden frame. I couldn’t take this to Councilmember Chancer’s house. I’d need something I could conceal. I refused to go into danger unarmed.

Previous: Session 9: Rell's Log  Next: Session 11: Rell's Log

50 Acadi

• Rel learns that Mesh has gone with Dhaer into the tunnels.
• Haven exit was in the hedge maze in the Garden District; Elirith knows the route.
• Find a flower seller to add flowers to outfits; Elirith deliberately overpays.
• Meet Robyn in Soul Plaza; shares that she and Saman went to the Gnomish Encampment and Saman got some repairs.
• Head into the building, page boy Desmond, assistant to Chief Archivist Orthiel, guided us to the Council Chamber.
• An elven man in formal dress called Godrick announced our arrival to the Council. 
• Council convened: Stoneshield, Archmage Aelor, Ceri Craghammer, Eleri Vineguard, Chief Archivist Orthiel, High Administrator Ularthi'el, Goodwin Chancer.
• Elirith and Saman reported our findings.
• Craghammer took a sketch from the description of the beast Saman saw, Vineguard was interested in the water source.
• We're paid and dismissed.
• Saman takes us to the Ancestral Archives, tells us he's been told to retrieve a piece of heartwood from the petrified forest.

Report Date

11 Apr 2019

Original Disclaimer: Written from Rell’s PoV and any opinions on character’s or npcs are her own and may not be a true reflection of a character’s intended actions or intentions. Any missing content is due to Rell’s selective hearing or poor memory. Although I have attempted to keep information on Rell to a minimum, please note that you may read some content/opinions that aren’t common knowledge to your own characters and therefore it should not influence your interactions with her.

Additional Disclaimer: This article is ported frpm old blogspot articles for reference, and pertinent bullets and dates added to timelines.