RPG #1 - Under the Dark of Night

Discussion in 'RPG #1 - Under the Dark of Night' started by Nienor, Apr 10, 2004.

  1. Nienor

    Nienor Administrator Staff Member

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    Thunder clapped loudly outside the keep. A blonde woman sitting at a small desk briefly looked up from the book she was reading. She had been intently reading an ancient tome on the properties of mandrakes. For a moment she wondered if the thunder was merely the weather or if her master was angered. Cymri was an advisor to Lord Aquilius, reigning Dark Mage of the Imber Mountains.

    The woman shuddered as she thought of her master’s mood. Not wishing to dwell on the issue, Cymri turned her attention back to her reading. Her mind attributed the thunder to a passing summer storm. For nearly thirty minutes she was engrossed in reading her book. Mandrakes have fascinating properties.

    When the clock struck midnight, Cymri closed the book she had been stuyding. With a small yawn she stood up and walked slowly over to an open window. Looking outside, the sky appeared fairly clear, the moon was bright & full and the start were shining. Cymri had no time to contemplate the matter, she rushed over to the door and opened it. Standing in the doorway was a scruffy, squint-eyed man. “Yer wanted by the master.” he spat out and immediately trod away down the hallway.

    Cymri sighed inwardly. She smoothed the skirt of her blue satin gown. Then she grabbed the gold chain around her waist that was attached to a small hand mirror. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Cymri smoothed her long golden hair with her left hand. In a moment she was walking down the dimly lit hallway to her master’s throne room.

    After a short walk, Cymri entered Lord Aquilius’s opulent throne room. Pushing past the guards at the door, the small woman purposefully strode to the dais where master sat on his purple velvet throne. She curtsied deeply. When she arose, Cymri was careful to keep her eyes off Lord Aquilius’s disfigured face. “How may I serve you, my lord?” she asked in a servile tone that belied her true nature.

    “To start you can look at me and not the floor, Cym” Lord Aquilius commanded. Cymri obeyed still averting her focus from the jagged scar that married the left side of her master’s face. “I have an errand for you.” he said.

    “Whatever you wish of me, I will accomplish.” Cymri replied softly.

    “Excellent” he grinned. “It seems my wayward servant, Michel, has stolen the Star Emerald. You do know how important that is to me. Don’t you?” he querried.

    “Yes, my lord, I do.” Cymri responded. “But how does this involve me?”

    “Simple, Cym. I wish for you to quietly leave the castle, locate Michel, bring back both him and the Star Emerald.” Aquilius told her.

    “Wouldn’t one of your men be better…” Cymri began. But she was cut off.


    “No,” he said speaking louder. “I trust you to handle this matter completely & discretely.” He threw a bag of coins at Cymri’s feet. “Go now. Hire whatever help you need.” With a wave of his hand, Cymri knew she was dismissed.

    She curtsied, picked up the bag and hurried to her private chamber. In her room, Cymri changed into more practical clothing and bounder her long hair into a braid. Grabbing a grey cloak, she left the castle unnoticed. Cymri went to the stable to saddle her own brown mare. She wanted to make her way to a nearby tavern under the dark of night.
     
  2. Radagast

    Radagast Art House Member

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    Tredding along the mud streets filled with a foul stench, Menecrow cursed foul words under his breath in common habit. Making sure those that passed him saw his crossbow strapped carelessly to his back and ensuring that his twin throwing axes glinted for all eyes, Menecrow added a glare that complimented his eye patch in a vile manner. For several days Menecrow had lurked around the civilized limits, enjoying the expressive hate that seemed to flow among the many locals. Hate that Menecrow flourished on, already he had experienced his addictive thrill of giving pain. The poor noble will be blessing every breath he takes for the next couple months, and watching his steps among the common folk.

    As Menecrow advanced slowly through the winding streets, where the darkness of every corner raised mysterious suspiscion, he noticed a fair looking lady clad in a grey cloak. Vivid with her appearance among the scum that were identical with Menecrow's garb, Menecrow decided to stop and converse with the lady. After all, Menecrow had always enjoyed the company of a good looking lady, although it was beyond him why she would be roaming the streets with his lot. Half audible with his rich and cutting accent, Menecrow inquired.

    "A sweet apple among sour grapes, as you appear to be. A woman like you can get hurt at this hour, and my type aren't easy when we get ideas in our heads."
     
  3. Nienor

    Nienor Administrator Staff Member

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    Lost in her own musings, Cymri barely notices the rough men and women surrounding her on the streets. On the trip down the mountain, her mare Fille, threw a shoe. She had spent most of the journey on foot, cursing her back luck and the man who sent her on this mission. Nearing the small town, the clock stuck midnight. She sighed inwardly, wondering where a blacksmith could be found at this late hour. Staying overnight in town alone would not be the wisest idea.

    Rounding a corner, she trudged along on her route to the Dragon's Nest. It was the dirtiest tavern in Four Corners, exactly the place for Cymri to start her search for assistance. After all, she wanted her help to be inexpensive and not the type to ask questions.

    Just as she came in sight of the tavern, Cymri was approached by a man she would have considered non-descript, if it were not for his eyepatch. Listening to what sounded like a bad pickup line from the man, Cymri tried her best not to roll her eyes. She quickly appraised him. From his rough manner and unconcealed weapons, the woman judged he could be an appropriate candidate for her to take along. The old adage, "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar" rolled through her head. Forcing a pleasant smile on her face, Cymri gave a perfunctory curtsey, "I am Lady Cymri. It is a pleasure to meet you."

    Before the man even had a chance to answer she continued, "I seem to be having a bit of bad luck tonight; my horse lost her shoe. I'm heading over to that tavern," Cymri said pointing at the Dragon's Nest. "I would love it if you accompanied me." she finished, then sauntered off towards the tavern leading her limping mare.
     
  4. Radagast

    Radagast Art House Member

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    Menecrow gave a rather ugly grin as he responded, pausing halfway through his speech to spit into the traffic streaming past him.

    "Unfortunate luck, m'Lady. Dumb beast's have no wits, not like a quick man such as myself. And I, Menecrow the Great, would not mind one bit if I journeyed with you. My services extend far, yet still include being a gentleman if I so choose at random times. Yes, m'Lady, not only am I the master of protection and the epic of safety, but I have no fear of helping one gain up in society. Even if it requires some...unfortunate accidents to take place."

    Motioning to move again as he made slowly towards the tavern, Menecrow walked slowly so that the lady lead her horse along without difficultly. Eyeing a man passing by who happened to be looking perhaps a tad bit long, he decided to carry the conversation further.

    "May Menecrow ask in whose company he is with? Or perhaps from where m'lady dwells?"
     
  5. Meteorain

    Meteorain Magical & Mystical

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    Fallorian looked to the sky through the small window in the wall, the moon and stars could be clearly seen, as the skies were clear. The moment would have been pleasant, except for the heavy stench of dung that was in the air. Yet the moon and stars were not why he was here now, he sat at the back of the Lion's Mane eagerly awaiting a 'parcel' for his father.

    Fallorian Sarat was just taller than average, with thin and lithe body. Yet he looked nothing out of the ordinary, which was good, because the parcel he was waiting for was something out of the odinary. The package was for his father, who said it was stolen from him many a year ago. The Star Emerald was what he waiting for, and he had paid much a fee to attain it. Yet the young servant Michel was late, and he would cut some of the fee for a late delivery. Fallorian sighed, patience is a virute, and he would be patient. He sipped on his wine, as he looked to the door for his parcel.
     
    Last edited: Apr 15, 2004
  6. Turin

    Turin Valar Morghulis

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    Darion sat at a small table in the back of the Tavern, eating his evening meal. A foul smelling stew made with a meat he could not identify. His wine was served to him in a dirty cup but he drank it anyway. He had been to several taverns and inns since coming into town six days ago and the kept getting worse.

    The Four Corners...perhaps the dirties, most currupt little town I've seen. he thought to himself. Ten men in six days, he had killed. The fools would try to rob anyone. At least no one in 'The Dragons Nest' had made trouble for him . . . yet.

    The Tavern door banged shut following an odd pair coming in off of the street. A short dirty looking fellow with a crossbow and a pair of axes. Probably another thief he thought to himself. The man followed a very attractive young woman with silvery blonde hair. Obviously a bit higher up the social ladder than her friend, by the way she was dressed.
     
  7. Nienor

    Nienor Administrator Staff Member

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    Doing her best not to shiver at the man's rough manners, Cymri delicately stepped across the street, careful of the mud. Her first stop at the tavern was the crude outbuilding, they called a stable. Directing her attention to an elderly man in the stable, Cymri assumed he was the stablehand, she smiled and politely asked, "Could I have my horse stabled here for a few hours? As you can see, she needs a little food and rest." She reached into her grey cloak, and pulled out a small golden coin. Continuing she said, "If at all possible, could you find a blacksmith to replace her shoe. I would be most grateful."

    "Aye, I'll have yer horse ready to go when ye are, m'lady." he replied, showing a rather toothless grin.

    Nodding, Cymri turned her back and paid no more attention to the man. He was doing what she needed. Inwardly she laughed, Cymri truly enjoyed being called a lady. A term she was not born into, nor deserved by virtue of anything she had done. But she enjoyed it none the less. After all appearance meant everything; everyone assumed she was a lady.

    Menecrow accompanied her the few paces to the tavern. When she peered inside, the Dragon's Nest was everything Cymri remembered it to be. Dirty, noisy and filled with men who would do anything for a price.
     
  8. Meteorain

    Meteorain Magical & Mystical

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    Another hour passed by, as Fallorian ordered a maid to get him another cup of wine, while he waited for his parcel. He kept his eyes on the door, waiting for the man, yet he kept a sharp eye on the room, especially at the cut-purses. The man is running late, i will have to take off a bit more, but as soon as the thought passed through his head, a thin man came throgh the door, his eyes darting from side to side. The man slowly made his way to Fallorians table, and soon Fallorian found himself opposite the man.
    "I've got your goods, let me see the money, I wish to be out of the city before Daybreak" the man said to his in quick and hushed tones. Fallorian reached into his pocket and placed his money pouch on the table in front of the man.
    "Five hundered Gold Trests, the thickest gold you'll ever see"
    "We agreed on 550" the man protested as his voice raised by a hair
    "Yes, that we did, but you are late" Fallorian informed him
    "Fine, just give me the money" the man replied grimly, as the man handed the parcel to him.

    Tucking his parcel into his belt puch, he made his way to the door, eager to be on his way.
    "Where will you be going?" the man asked as he began to leave.
    "Do not worry Michel, you won't see me again" and with that he left the man, as he made his way through the crowd and into the night.
     
  9. Radagast

    Radagast Art House Member

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    Following Cymri into the building, Menecrow tripped over a large burly man, dried blood flooded upon his clothes. Either he had passed out from to much drink, or had met some unfortunate fate in a fight. Menecrow believed the latter. The tavern had poor lighting, but Menecrow didn't need to use his eye to see the lot that occupied the room.

    "M'lady, it appears as if few tables are left for deserving folk such as ourselves. But have no worries, Menecrow said he has manners. You will sit at a proper table, if I have to kill the whole lot of them."

    Motioning for Cymri to follow, Menecrow went to the back of the tavern, eyeing the scum with murdurous hate. Seeing there was a table occupied by one sole man, a bit better dressed and eatting his meal, Menecrow approached him with a toothy grin that he perfected in disgustion. Menecrow also noticed the large lion tattooed upon his neck. With his harsh accent, Menecrow gave a growl, then spit on the mans large boot.

    "You better make off fast, boy, m'Lady here needs a decent table to enjoy herself. You do not want any trouble, although I would take pleasure in showing you some."
     
    Last edited: Apr 17, 2004
  10. Turin

    Turin Valar Morghulis

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    Darion leaned back in his chair giving no more than a passing glance to the mans spiddle on his boot. Fingering the hilt of the sword hanging from his left hip, the hilt of that smooth single edge blade felt like an extension of his hand. He felt one of those sardonic smiles try to creep out from the inside and forced it back down. Perhaps this day will not be as peaceful as I thought he mused to himself. He considered himself above bantering words with this type but somehow the urge overtook him.

    "I would be pleased to share the company of the lady. However, I think that the smell of you might ruin the atmosphere of this . . . fine establishment. Perhaps you could dine in the stable with the beasts?" Turning his attention to the woman he went on. "Feel free to seat yourself my lady, but be wary of the stew, it is not for those with weak stomachs."
     
  11. Nienor

    Nienor Administrator Staff Member

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    Barely able to supress a smirk at both of the men's antipathy towards each other, Cymri still managed to keep a bland face and level tone as she spoke. "Thank you for your advice, sir. Always pleased to see a gentleman around."

    The lady removed her plain grey cloak, revealing a low cut blue wool gown. Cymri carefully hung the cloak on a nearby peg. With a small sigh, she smoothed out her dress, less than pleased about the necessity of wearing wool. Finally she seated herself at the table where the stranger was, sitting just a little too close for propriety's sake.

    A worn-out tavern girl passed by the table, carrying yet another heavy tray of food and drink. Cymri motioned to her, "Could I have three cups of your best wine, in cleaner cups than the ones you generally use." she asked pointing to the man's nearly empty cup. "That will be all." the lady finished up with a imperious wave of her hand.

    Abruptly dismissed, the woman turned back to her duties. Menecrow was alternating between stroking his axe heads and glaring holes in the stranger's back. While Cymri was amused by his behavior, she did not want any blood spilled unnecessarily. "Oh, do sit down, Menecrow. Let us find out if this establishment has passable wine."

    "Where are my manners tonight?" she exclaimed. "Let me introduce myself. I am Lady Cymri from the Imber Mountains. It is a pleasure to meet you."
     
  12. Meteorain

    Meteorain Magical & Mystical

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    As Fallorian walked through the dimly lit streets, he passed a stableboy leading a mare with a missing shoe outsde the Four Corners Tavern. considerng he had no horse, and by the look of the sturdy mare, he thgouht he would gain considerable time on his journey. Thinking quickly he noticed that the mare was being led to a blacksmith, most likely to be fitted with a new shoe. walking a bit faster, he amde his way to the stableboy.
    "You there, is this the horse that needs a new shoe and has just come from the Four Corners" he asked as lines passed through his head of how to acquire the horse and then it came to him.
    "That may be, but who are you" the stableboy asked a bit affronted by the sudden question
    "Me sir, I have been asked to fit this horse with a shoe, so give it to me quickly if you want one".

    The stableboy eyed him suspiciosly, but eventually gave in. "You bring that horse back to me as soon as your finished you hear?"
    "Right". Leading the horse in the blacksmith's, Fallorian looked out of the corner of his eye, waiting for the stableboy to stop watching where he was going. A few paces on, the stableboy was already nearly back at the tavern's stable. he quckly led the horse behind the smithy and mounted it. He made his way to the gate at a slow pace, so he would not attact mucha ttention to himself. Upon reaching the gates he questioned by the gaurds for his late departure.
    "Where do you be goin' so late laddy?" one of the older guards asked him
    "My father he is sick, and i must see him as quick as possible" Fallorian answered in a worried tone.
    "Hmm, well there be bandits in yonder forests, so yerr take take of yerr self taddy"
    "I will try"
    "OK.....Torvin open the side gate".
    Fallorian rode through the gate, and as soon as he thoght he was out of eyesights distance, he sped off in the night, to his father with his parcel.
     
  13. Radagast

    Radagast Art House Member

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    Eyeing the lion tattooed man, Menecrow's eyebrows bent at knife sharp angles, yet he conceded to Cymri's instructions obediently. Sitting upon the musty old chair, Menecrow kept his eyes locked upon the stranger. Although not offended by the man's words, hate boiled from Menecrow because of the man's tone. Cursing violent mutters half inaudible, he broke his gaze to sweep his scowl to Cymri. Menecrow was used to hazardous folk, yet he knew from experience that the both of them radiated danger, yet in very opposite ways. Pointing a dirty finger towards the lion tattooed man, he ignored Cymri's introduction.

    "He's a fool, m'Lady Cymri, and I will be the first here to claim it. Let you remember the wits Menecrow has. And as for manners, it my greatest pleasure to be in your companionship this fine evening. The Imri Mountains eh? I had ties there years back, but it would be unwise for me to speak of them."

    Grasping the wine cup brought from the serving lady in an uncivilized manner, Menecrow did not care to glance at whether Cymri's instructions were carried out. Menecrow learned to get past such trivial things, such as a cups condition. Laughing silently to himself, he realized their were far more trivial things in which others felt replusive that he had managed to overcome throughout the years.
     
  14. Turin

    Turin Valar Morghulis

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    "It is a pleasure to meet you Lady Cymri, my name is Darion and I am at your service." Glancing towards the dirty little man who seated himself across the table Darion allowed that sardonic smile to touch his lips. "Menecrow, an interesting name for an interesting fellow." Turning back to Cymri he added. "Forgive my curiosity, but what buisiness brings a fine woman like yourself to this hole in the wall establishment? Were it not for a few misfortunes I would not choose to be here myself. From what I've seen of the 'Four Corners' it is not a welcome place to strangers. I hope that all is well in your travels."

    Tossing the nearly empty bowl of stew onto the tray of a passing server Darion eyed his fresh cup of wine, and shook his head. "Apparently they are able to wash their dishes when so instructed."
     
  15. Nienor

    Nienor Administrator Staff Member

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    "Of course. They are perfectly capable of doing their job with adequate direction. I have no issues being the one to give them direction." Cymri replied while accepting a cup of wine from off the tray. "Thank you. Could you get this man another bowl of stew before he eats the table. Please get my other friend anything he requests." she directed towards the tavern girl.

    Cymri picked up the goblet, inspecting it for cleanliness. While some people were happy eating and drinking filth, she had higher standards. Turning the goblet around, the dark red wine sparkled slightly in the torch light. Cymri was suprised it looked halfway decent; she briefly wondered what smuggler had sold the tavern the wine and how much was she going to be charged for it. Taking a sip, she smiled and turned her gaze back towards Darion, "Awfully forward question to pose at a lady you just met. Isn't it."

    Seeing that her innocuous rebuke didn't affect the Darion at all or even make Menecrow raise an eyebrow, Cymri decided to be as bold as she wished talking to them. "I seek an object stolen from me. It is not the cost of the item that is important; but it is very dear to me and irreplaceable." she lied facilely, these men did not need to know she was indeed a servant to another. "To make sure the job is done right, I wish to do it myself. But I would enjoy companionship on my journey. I'm more than willing to compense anyone for their inconvenience."

    Idly she fingered a small pouch fastened to her belt. "Are either or both of you considering being my companion?" Cymri querried.
     
    Last edited: Apr 20, 2004
  16. Radagast

    Radagast Art House Member

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    Menecrow eyed Cymri with a dangerous glint in his eyes; his harsh accent unique compared to Cymri's prior soft voice.

    "M'lady Cymri, I, Menecrow the Magnificent, will be glad to take you under my protection. Gentlemen such as myself must help protect the innocent." Eyeing the bag Cymri fingered causually, Menecrow went on. "And of course, my high and honourable lady, should any added gesture's of satisfaction come along, they are certain to be appreciated with gratitude."

    Behind the table, some shouts of arguement began to rise but Menecrow, nor Cymri or Darion, paid any heed. Waiting for the lion tattooed man's response, Darion appeared to be analyzing both Cymri and Menecrow under a close scrutiny, Menecrow inquired further.

    "And mind my seeking, m'Lady, but may I request a hint at which direction we may be heading, and to where?"
     
  17. Meteorain

    Meteorain Magical & Mystical

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    Fallorian's newly aquired mare made good company for one who was short of companions, for you could tell a horse many things without worry that they would be told again. Last night he had ridden the mare hard, eager to get back to his father. Yet he did not want to ride the horse to its death so he made camp, until next day's sunrise, for sleep was good for a tired body, because a tired body meant a tired mind, and that could be hazardous if he needed his wits about him.

    Kicking mud on the fire, he scattered the burnt wood, and cleaned out the make shift camp, so that only a skilled tracker would know that someone had camped there. after making sure know one could follow him, Fallorian saddled the mare, which he named Lightfoot, as the mare's pace was quick and sure. Today he hoped to ride atleast 20miles before having to camp again. He may tire the horse but still he needed to get back to his father quickly.

    Soon on his way, Fallorian set a quick but easy pace for Lightfoot. The surrounding area was prosperous in the way of nature, with many trees rich in their green colour. The area cloud be called a forest due to its size, yet it was more wood with its tall trees and clear grassy grounds. The area smelt of rich soil, and the area thrived with animals, as the many bird calls could be heard. Although the area seemed placid, he could not help the feeling of being watched, of eyes following his every move; asthough feeling his mood his horse snorted, but he patted the animal easily calming it. He quickened the pace as he looked foward to his destination; the Cold Mountains.
     
  18. Turin

    Turin Valar Morghulis

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    Giving Menecrow one last glance Darion turned to Cymri and nodded. "It greives me to hear of your loss my lady." Standing Darion drew his his sword and rested the point on the floor, drawing peculiar looks from several men across the room who were making an excessive amount of noise. Darion paid no mind to anyone but the Lady as he took a knee. I offer you the services of Darion Nakien, High Captain of the Dar'Shien, in Tunval."

    Returning his sword to it's scabbard Darion took his seat and added. "I've dealt with a few thieves in this god forsaken town and if you point the way I'll cut the throat of the man who robbed you. Where do you suggest we begin?"
     
  19. Nienor

    Nienor Administrator Staff Member

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    Slightly taken aback by Darion's obeisance, Cymri stared at him for a moment unblinking. Menecrow's response was as she had expected. With a slightly twisted sense of humor, she pondered how many times she could sneak the phrase, "Menecrow the Magnificent" into casual conversation without repercussions.

    She reponded to their offers of assistance. "Words cannot say how grateful I am that you would help me. I never expected the services of two protectors."

    Glancing around the tavern circumspectly, Cymri tried to detect if anyone was listening to their conversation. The three men on the table closest to them appeared to be involved in a drinking contest with their large pitcher of mead. One man already was trying to rest his head on the table, the clear loser of the contest. Another pair of men were involved in somewhat of a brawl, although it appeared not to affect the rest of the Dragon's Nest. Majority of the patrons were content with drinking and socializing.

    "The man who stole from me is Michel Devn. Most likely he is still here in Four Corners; I doubt he has the intelligence to run as far away as he can." she replied quietly. "For the most part he is unremarkable looking. Young, light brown hair, pale blue eyes; but he has a healing wound near his right eye that is likely to leave a scar."

    Cymri picked up her glass of wine and leaned back in her chair. Almost seductively she added, "I'm sure neither of you strong men will have any trouble detaining him once he is found."
     
  20. Turin

    Turin Valar Morghulis

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    Location:
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    Ratings:
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    Darion barked a laugh, does she really think that I will be stroked like a pet? He thought to himself. No matter let her think as she will.

    "I suppose you know this man's destination? If Mr. Magnificent and I are to do any investigating we will need more information than what you have given us. What is it that this man stole from you?"

    Watching Cymri was quite amusing, Darion was begining to realize that there was far more to this tale than the lady intended to share with her companions.