conversations: human
conversations:  You have ridden a few hours from the provincal capital Calbolg in the province of Amery to Krosa Keep, an old border fortress now owned personally by the emperor and used as a hunting lodge. At the gate you meet a middle-aged man with salt and pepper mustache and hair, cloaked in red with a gold tabard, the colors of the Glory Guard.
  
  
  "Well, looks like your papers all check out. Its about time we got some replacements. We've been operating below strength for a while. I'm Captain Mathison. The chain of command here may be a little different than you are used to. Though you are now members of the Emperor's personal Pathfinder Arrow, and must obviously follow his direct commands, most of your orders will come from me as the leader of his personal bodyguard unit of the Glory Guard. I trust you met General Bashaw in Calbolg. The rest of the Glory Guard is camped there, only our unit is here with the Emperor at Krosa Keep for his hunting trip. Do you have any questions?"
  
   
   Spoiler 
  
  You may also do any roleplaying along the road before arrriving here if you'd like.
   
conversations: OologahQ:
conversations: human
conversations:  It's clear from Ward's body language - somewhat of a compromise between standing at attention and trying to look at anything but the captain - that he's nervous.
    Sir, yes cap'n, sir, replacements... questions, no..  He mumbles. In Ward's experience prolonged attention from authority figures has never been good, not when he was younger, definitely not in the army.
conversations: cricketHunter:
conversations: human
conversations:  Melytha rubs Larytha or her nose, vaguely curious about exactly what their purpose is here, but she assumes that, if they needed to know, General Bashaw or this captain would have told them.  Surely they must have good reason to keep it to themselves.
    Sir, if you have no immediate orders for us, I would like to see to my horse, and to my rumbling stomach, sir.  We understood there was some urgency in getting here, so we've not stopped to eat on our ride.    She'd just as soon get down to business now, but if there's nothing to be done, she could certainly use some food.  And Larytha was looking tired.
conversations: Volith:
conversations: human
conversations:  Ballard listened intently but stared past the Captain with the distant eye-avoiding stare reserved for ranking officers.
    Your orders?  This had been, for the last several years, the only question anyone had expected to be asked. Certainly the only one that would receive a straight answer, though in Pathfinder service, straight answers were in short supply. He had had plenty of time to imagine what this assignment could mean. He had decided it would likely be one of two things; a miserable, ceaseless exercise in the protocol of military rank while ceremonially babysitting the Emperor, or a bloody, violent, fiery disaster.
  
   Either way is fine with me. 
  
  Ballard quietly wondered who he had been sent to replace; what had been his fate? Retirement, most likely; the kind that comes with posthumous commendation.
conversations: Roane:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Well then take your mounts to the stable, get cleaned up, and put on your dress uniforms. The Emperor is dining with the unit tonight. Watch yourself, he's been in a foul mood since yesterday. The prey for the hunt was supposed to arrive yesterday for his inspection but has somehow been delayed. We've got word from our outriders that they will be arriving tonight, however. Have all your gear ready to go for the morning. The pathfinders will be accompanying the Emperor on the hunt."
  
  He motions up to the tower and the gate is raised. He proceeds inside to the courtyard and goes into the keep. One of the guards motions you toward the stable.
conversations: OologahQ:
conversations: human
conversations:  Once inside Ward immediately begins searching for someone who can give him the straight story of what's going on, a stableboy who hears a little more than he's supposed to, or a soldier bored and looking for someone to talk to - anyone but an officer.
  
  A part of Ward wants to believe that this really is that simple - a hunt and nothing else. Why, tomorrow they'd probably be eating wild boar or some such game. A nice and peaceful rotation. Which, of course, would explain why the Captain was so desperate for reinforcements...
conversations: cricketHunter:
conversations: human
conversations:  Melytha takes a bit more care with Larytha, brushing down her horse, making sure to tease out any small pebbles that might have worked their way into her hair, and seeing that she has adequate food and water, than Ward seemed to take with his.  Then again, his mount had a bit less weight to heft about than hers.
  
  Once Larytha seems clean and content, Melytha continues on into the keep, in search of a place to clean herself up, as the captain put it.  She is looking forward to dinner with the emperor - it almost certainly means better food than she would otherwise get.
  
   Thank Ipthar I packed my dress uniform. 
conversations: Volith:
conversations: human
conversations:  As the Captain walks ahead, Ballard catches Ward's eye.
  
    Replacements.  
   An interesting choice of words. 
  
  Ballard quietly ushers his nameless mount to the stable and asks the guards there for direction to the barracks. Once inside, he pulls out his dress uniform.
  
   Red and gold, the finest colors there are. Red anyhow. The gold was regularly couriered to his benefactors, for the time being. The purple and silver of his Pathfinder uniform would do for now. 
  
  Ballard departed the barracks in search of the dining hall and Ward, eager to eavesdrop* on whatever fact-finding Ward would undoubtedly have undertaken by now.
  
   
   Spoiler 
  It's not eavesdropping, it's Freedom Listening.
   
conversations: Roane:
conversations: human
conversations:  One of the stableboys seems chatty and says that the Pathfinder unit was below strength because the Emperor's brother General Nestor requested some of them for a special assignment on his campaign in the west. The boy doesn't know much about the hunt, just that they've set up a pen in the courtyard and set aside some gear from the armory. He tells Melytha that the soldiers are all camped in tents in the courtyard and that she can get water to clean up from the well.
conversations: OologahQ:
conversations: human
conversations:  It takes Melytha a surprisingly long time to change into her dress uniform.  By the time she emerges from the tent, the sky has grown dark; it is time for dinner.
conversations: Volith:
conversations: human
conversations:  I didn't actually know the barrel was full of explosive powder...  Ward cuts off his story as he sees Melytha approach, mercifully saving Ballard from what is probably the fifth retelling of this particular story of childhood mischief.
  
  Ward and Ballard are standing, in dress uniforms, waiting for the unit to be led to dinner.
conversations: cricketHunter:
conversations: human
conversations:  Quizzing the help proved unenlightening. Ballard spots Melytha heading for dinner and follows. A grumpy Emperor on one hand, and a decent meal on the other; Pathfinder service was full of these mixed blessings.
conversations: Roane:
conversations: human
conversations:  The "great" hall of the keep is rather small, and the long banquet tables are situated rather snugly. The tapestries on the walls are the coat of arms of the emperor, a gold lion on a red field; the coat of arms of the glory guard, a red field with a gold diagonal line; the coat of arms of the pathfinders, silver crossed arrows on a purple field; and another coat of arms, crossed red axes on a blue field, that is not immediately recognizable.
  
  The tables all have colored tablecloths indicated their position. The head table is set for the emperor, his family, his advisors and his personal bodyguards. The majority of the rest of the tables are decorated in Glory Guard colors. Some of the tables have no decoration at all, probably for servants and slaves. In the far corner is the Pathfinder table.
  
  Cooks and servants are finishing the table and food preparation and a few soldiers are milling around, chatting. Only one of the Pathfinders has taken his seat, a hulking half-orc who looks comical in the finely made dress tunic and cloak.
conversations: OologahQ:
conversations: human
conversations:  Lost among his fellow soldiers, in matching uniforms, Ward feels almost comfortable about the coming event. At least the thought of dining under the scrutiny of the Emperor only causes his knees to buckle. To cover his sudden unsteadiness he plops himself down into the nearest seat, unfortunately too near the hulking half-orc.
    Sorry! Didn't mean to, I just...  Ward trails off finding himself at a loss to explain the peculiar sense of dread that has occupied his gut for the last hour.
conversations: cricketHunter:
conversations: human
conversations:  Ballard takes the seat opposite Ward. He waves across the table to the Half-Orc pathfinder.  Dinner wouldn't be any fun without a little entertainment. 
    Nothing like a good meal before a hunt, eh?  
conversations: Roane:
conversations: human
conversations:  The half-orc clears his throat then begins to speak in the refined, educated accent that would befit a nobleman more than a half-orc.
  
  "Oh I do agree. Nothing like a good hunt to get the blood flowing. Assignment to this unit is dreadfully boring, all banquets and balls instead of battles. This will be a nice change of pace. Let's hope the hunt is exciting. I take it you are the replacements we've been due? I'm Orven, by the way. We are very pleased to have you here. Being shorthanded is a strain, though that last group were certainly not very conversational and were, dare I say, rather boring and standoffish. I've always found elves to have that tendency, though. I hope you all will be more interesting conversationalists."
conversations: OologahQ:
conversations: human
conversations:  Absolutely.  
   What? 
    Sorry, this is Ward, I'm Ballard, and Melytha will be along shortly. What was that about the last group? Elves, you said?  
conversations: Roane:
conversations: human
conversations:  "Yes, called away on some sort of mission for General Nestor. Pleased to meet all of you."
  
  Many more people are filtering in now and taking seats at various tables. "Let me point out the dignitaries, you are probably unfamiliar with them if your service has not been in the capital. That man with the mustache sitting down at the emperor's table now is Lord Ai'Raif, that's his crossed axes coat of arms if you didn't recognize it. He's the appointed garrison commander of this keep, it was the ancestral home of his family. You can see how casual Emperor Numa is about formalities and security. Most of the guards dining with the dignitaries instead of standing watch? Someone sitting at his own table before he does? Even dining with lesser mortals? A bit scandalous I say, but you'll get used to it."
  
  "There's Lady Jorah Ai'Dulles with the red robes, she's a royal advisor. That ghastly woman coming in is Raif's wife. Those four are the emperor's honor guards, they get to sit at the head table with Captain Mathison. There's the Empress Kyra of course. There's Lord Ai'Gaj, he's the spymaster. There's High Priestess Moraine."
  
  "Ah, and here's Stone, the other Pathfinder." Stone is a waif of a human with sandy blonde hair--he didn't bother to shave for the occassion and he appears to have left his sash somewhere else. The Glory Guard members he passes on the way to the table seem a bit scared of him. Stone takes a seat next to Orven. He gives a short nod and a "hello" when he sees the group but otherwise seems to ignore you.
conversations: OologahQ:
conversations: human
conversations:  Ward spares a quick wordless nod to the reticent Stone. His attention soon returns to the loquacious Orven.
    Unless you are hiding some more Pathfinders under that cloak of yours, we still aren't at full Arrow strength. You weren't kidding about being shorthanded were you?  Ward tries to examine Lord Ai'Raif discreetly, his eyes instead focusing on his knife that he's picking at the table with. Normally the garrison commander would be the man whose whims controlled Ward's fate, but in this place... Lord Ai'Raif, Captain Mathison, the bloody Emperor Numa himself. Ward pries a little splinter out of the table's surface. Too many commanders, not enough soldiers.
    So the Cap'n wasn't lying when he said the chain of command here was... unique.  
conversations: cricketHunter: