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Tales of Faerun


AurianaValoria1

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Shalena was surprised to see that Arland managed to find bacon in a place such as this, still since everyone ignored her comments as they most of the time do, and thus she had nothing to reply to, she grabbed some bacon and began to eat. She also noticed that Llhunarra seemed hesitant to try it. "Don't worry, it's actually quite good." She said to the half-elf and smiled reassuringly.

 

Nawen kept pacing around the room. She didn't want to see anyone, not yet, as they'd be concerned for her and she thought her issues had taken up too much time already, but on the other hand she felt as if she's going to go crazy if she remained confined between four walls. As big as the room was, it was too small for someone like Nawen. Someone who enjoyed open spaces and freedom.

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Rhaine sat down again and asked for a servant to bring some fruit, eating in complete silence with quick efficiency. Her thoughts were occupied with a great too many things, and she wanted to get out of Menarses's sight whilst he was distracted by the bacon. Once she was through, she gave her companions a brief nod and slipped out of the common room, headed towards the bathhouse for a private bath to be drawn for her - and to find some peace and quiet in which to contemplate.

 

Zorica, who was still very much hung over, helped herself to some of the bacon before the merchant discovered its tastiness. She hoped eating would alleviate her headache at least a little, and as she chewed on a slice, she gave Amendale a sideways glare, "'Awe-inspiring' my left foot. I've never danced in front of a crowd in my life."

 

Conall jerked his thumb at Arland, "That, madame alchemist, is your culprit." He then noticed Llhunarra's hesitance and agreed with Shalena, "Indeed. It's merely pork taken from the lower sides and belly of the animal, cut in thin strips and generally cooked to a crisp in an iron pan. There is a lot of fat in this portion of the animal, hence its flavor."

 

"Trust the werewolf to give us the lecture on meat preparation," Heidi's voice suddenly came from behind them. The mischievous freckled gnome grinned as she sat atop her rolling cart, joining the conversation as if she had been there the whole time. Aodh perched on one of her shoulders, the mechanical dragonfly on the other. Conall gave her a sharp look, but she ignored him.

 

Menarses was far too engrossed in his experience to say much of anything, occasionally holding up a shiny slice of the pork as if trying to discern its properties by looking at it, but then returning to his feast with gusto. At last, he sat back in his chair, licking his greasy fingers and beaming at Arland, "You, my boy, are a godsend. This is something I must have available to all my guests every day. Make note of it!" He gestured to a servant, who nodded exuberantly and then hurried off to the kitchens to deliver the merchant prince's desires to the cook.

 

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Meanwhile, Rhaine was sunk deeply into the warm water of her bath, enjoying one of the few sheer pleasures she allowed herself to indulge in. The water was full of suds from where she had already scrubbed the grime of the road from her body, and her long hair was completely wet, plastered to her forehead and the sides of her face and floating around her shoulders in the water like tendrils of blood. Her feet were propped on the other side of the marble tub, long slender legs crossed beneath the surface. The soft golden glow of scented candles offered a surprising sense of comfort and calm, and the Doomguide leaned her head backwards with her emerald eyes closed. A drawn linen curtain hid her from view, and a servant woman waited outside to give her towels when she desired them.

 

So, Menarses wanted four of the women as his dancers and the men of her party as guards. The lecherous devil had no doubt wanted to see the women in such a way for his own pleasures as much as for his audience...all under the guise of pleasing the goddesses of the land. Though Shalena and Llhunarra had made valid points that they did owe Menarses in a way, Rhaine could not help but feel that they were merely being put on cheap display as exotic females from foreign lands, not paying homage to Mulhorand's patron deities. Once again, they were seen merely as circus freaks to gawk and gape at, and not the formidable band of comrades they had truly become...

 

She prayed to the gods above that they would not be an embarrassment.

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Opting for a bit of luxury, Lucas decided to see what the baths were like. He was nearly floored when he looked around at the lavish decorations in the bathhouse. As he absentmindedly wandered around the bathhouse when he stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted a tub that was currently in use. His eyes widened as far as they could at the sight of the woman's silhouetted figure. After a few moments however the sudden realization of who it was dawned on the young squire and his react was calm and controlled as one would expect.

 

While still wearing his non armored wear he dives straight into a nearby tub without a second of thought.

A nearby servant thought it fairly amusing.

"Sir?" She spoke in a thick accent. "The water there is very cold, surely you would much prefer a warmer one?"

 

"THIS IS FINE THANK YOU!" He yelled out, keeping his back turned from where Rhaine was bathing.

 

"But.. your clothes.." The servant said with a small laugh.

 

"THEY NEED A WASH!" Lucas squeaked loudly, his face now a bright red.

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Shalena’s words were reassuring, as was how everyone else was diving into the strips. Looking at the one in her hand she takes a bite of it, smiling wide at the taste. Not a shy eater she starts to down several of them while nodding to Conall’s explanation of where the meat came from. Llhunarra had eaten pork in the past, but never anything as tasty as this, more along the lines of roasts. Stuffing another one into her mouth, plenty having been prepared, she pauses as the voice calls out from behind her. Instantly recognizing the voice belonged to the one who had attempted to sell her supplies when they had first crossed paths, the gnome’s words have her looking at Conall.

 

Mouth half full of chewed bacon the red head’s eyes were on Conall. “You’re…a werewolf?” She asks with her speech somewhat hindered by the food within it, even so it was still easy to tell she was shocked. So far he had seemed quite the polite one, even offering her a ride on the way here. Like with Argyros she knew little about werewolves beyond what she had read or been told, most of that pointing to their more ferocious nature. Just like the dragon that travelled with the group though he seemed well tempered and fully in control, never mind indistinguishable from a normal human. Heck, she had ridden with her arms wrapped around him and not suspected a thing.

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Nydeshka's quest had taken a turn for the worst. Growing up in such a cold inhospitable climate did not at all prepare him for the heat of Mulhorand. The last thing he remembered was walking, sweating, and intense thirst before his vision faded.

 

Carrying Nydeshka on a stretcher by Manarses' aids they shouted directions as they hurried him through the common room, pushing chairs aside as they rushed him into a room in the back for treatment.

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Rhaine heard Lucas's screeching and quickly stood with a loud splash, requesting towels from the maidservant near her curtain and then a clean linen robe. She jerked the curtain aside and stepped out, robe wrapped tightly about her and concern writ upon her countenance...followed by utter confusion.

 

"Lucas?" She brushed a wet lock of hair out of her face as she cocked her head at the soaked squire, "Are you...all right, my friend? Or should I just leave and pretend this never happened?"

 

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Conall winked at Llhunarra and grinned cheekily, "I am. Shhh...not so loud. Others may hear you." He chuckled before adding, "Don't worry. I do not plan on ripping off anyone's head during a full moon or anything."

 

Suddenly, the doors of the common room burst open, and servants carried a man on a stretcher through the room and into the back of the hall. Menarses's brow furrowed momentarily, and then he slowly rose from his seat, "Excuse me, my fine guests. There is something I must attend to." With that, he followed his servants to where they were taking this strange, incapacitated man, his steps quick and his stride sure.

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Shalena was still enjoying her meal, when she saw Menarses's servants carrying someone on a stretcher. "I wonder who is that." She said when the merchant prince excused himself. Shortly after a few of her crewmen joined them at the common room, eating their breakfast unusually quietly and squinting at any louder noises. "Poor buggers," the piratess chuckled, "I wish Dagny was with us. That woman was some serious competition when it comes to drinking."

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Annette rolled her eyes at Connall. "Unsurprising."

 

Amendale, meanwhile, was still busy teasing Annette. "Just because one's never danced in front of a crowd doesn't mean they're no good, you know." He quirked a sage eyebrow as he offered sage advice. Sagely.

 

Arland grinned at Menarses. "See? Told ya every man needs bacon." Then suddenly someone went by on a stretcher. "Who in the hells is that?"

Amendale took a glance at the individual on the stretcher before he muttered "Excuse me..." and got up from the table to follow them. "I'm a healer, I can take a look at him." One of them nodded, and they took the patient to the infirmary and laid him down. Amendale was quick to get to work, laying a damp cloth on his head and administering sips of water, careful not to give him too much lest he throw it all up. He exposed the traveler's feet to the air to help them cool off and flipped the cloth over. He considered using magic, but decided that he'd save it for if it was truly needed, as the victim was likely to make a full recovery without. Still, heatstroke was nothing to mess around with, so Amendale kept an eye on him and kept up the treatment. Now all he had to do was wait.

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"Yeah n n no." Lucas stuttered as he quickly turn his back to her. "I just uhh.. I just tripped.. th that's all." He said, hoping that his hair would cover his ears, bright red and burning from embarrassment.

"I'm s sorry if I disturbed you." He said bashfully, still not turning to look at her. "I i i.... Just wasn't watching where I was going I guess."

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Rhaine merely shook her head with a sigh and departed the private baths, pattering away on damp bare feet down the hall to retrieve her belongings. She had no idea why the squire was so incredibly clumsy, and she wished he would be more careful.

 

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As the next few days passed, the four who had been selected to represent the Mulhorandi goddesses in Menarses's festival were poked, prodded, and otherwise very nearly harassed by the merchant prince's maidservants as they took measurements, dressed the candidates like dolls, and retook measurements just as Menarses desired. With every redressing, the costumes became more and more elaborate, to the point of being almost gaudy. When the prospective dancers were not being draped in silks, sheer linens, and massive amounts of jewelry, they were being instructed by a tiny woman twice their age in the arts of traditional Mulhorandi dancing.

 

Or somewhat traditional.

 

"Menarses wants theatrics, not true dancing," the petite woman had said, "A little gesture here, a dramatic sway there...You want to know why the others left? Because they weren't being paid to do the jobs they knew how to."

 

But sometimes, simple theatrics was not what it felt like they were doing.

 

Meanwhile, the rest of the party was plied with cool drinks, lilting songs, and offers of massage. Day in and day out, they were waited on hand-and-foot. The servants themselves were always nearly silent, only speaking when asked a question. They seemed to know what everyone needed and when they needed it, and the longer they stayed around the group, the more attuned they became to everyone's personal preferences.

 

Conall became concerned when he had not seen Nawen but for a few glimpses during the past few days, and he began to truly worry for her on the morning of the fourth day. As he moved past her door, he was tempted to knock on it again, but he did not want to make her angry. Instead, he sighed heavily and resolved to speak with Rhaine about the matter; the Doomguide would know best what to do. He made his way into the commons and took a few dates from a bowl, and he glanced around to see that no one else was there. Resolving to wait for the others to arrive, he sat on a bench, taking in the stunning artwork around him that he had yet to become accustomed to.

 

Zorica followed soon after, rubbing her sore stomach and lower back muscles. Her face bore an expression of obvious discomfort, and she plopped down beside the werewolf with an "oof" of pained fatigue. The half-drow then gave Conall a lopsided grin, "By the gods, I swear I've been using muscles I didn't know I had."

 

"That bad, eh?" he asked, head cocked in curiosity.

 

She swiftly grabbed him by the collar, amber eyes wide with a mad insistence, "YES! IT'S HORRID! They want to put BODY PAINT on me! ALL OVER ME! And it GLITTERS! No one will ever be able to take me seriously AGAIN!"

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