"Ellian? What are you doing here? You should be at the hall overseeing the banquet preparations." He looks our strange group over once more, craning his neck ever so slightly to peer past us at the closing door. His brow crinkles. "These are Lady Civatas guests, correct? I'd been informed that Marshal Thomas was escorting them."

"Yes, I believe he had been." Ellian clears her throat and nods. "As I understand it he had to return to Cragcliff and so handed the duty to one of his Corporals."

Insight vs Morren: Success!

Morrens left eye twitches and I catch a barely perceptible flash of displeasure on his face along with a suck of his teeth.

"But..." Ellian stammers a little as she continues, "There was an issue with the returning of the fairies to airship Captain Reigns and... I have seen to it. Everything has now all been sorted out, however doing so has put me behind schedule. I can fill you in later, Mr. Morren, but like you said, I really need to get over to the hall."

"Go." Morren lets out a quiet sigh and waves his hand in dismissal."I will see to them."

"Thank you, Mr. Morren." Ellian turns and gives us all a smile that looks truly genuine, most likely due to her elation of finally being rid of us. "I hope that you enjoy your stay."

"You too!" I say quickly.

I realize my weird farewell a fraction of a second after Ellian has slipped back through the door we had entered. In an attempt to cover my blunder I turn to the new guy.

"So, Mr. Morren? I'm Brian. This is Cinnamon and Kryst." I beam him a friendly smile, "I do believe that I heard your name in passing earlier. You work with Ellian and Lady Civata, right?"

"Correct." He states flatly.

A long uncomfortable pause draws out then he turns and holds out a hand to the woman at the desk.

Taken aback she pauses, fumbles for a moment, then hastily locates a pair of keys from somewhere behind the desk and hands them over to him. I catch her eye and shoot her a quick reassuring smile, which gets me both one in return and a tint of blush on her cheeks. Man, I love being gorgeous!

"If you could walk this way, I will show you to your accommodations." Morren says curtly and indicates for us to follow.

"I don't think I can." Kryst says. "Unless of course you have a spare staff I could ram up my tail end too."

The woman at the desk lets out a small squeak of alarm at Krysts flippant attitude towards someone who was an obvious authority figure. At least for her.

Morren makes no comment, though his left eye does give a little twitch as he regards Kryst for a brief moment before he turns and leads the way down a corridor.

Leaving the foyer, and the wide eyed receptionist behind, we are ushered down a hall, up a flight of stairs and past a series of closed doors that reminds me of a hotel hallway. Morren stops before one midway down the corridor, unlocks it and holds the door open. Waiting until we enter before he steps in and closes it behind us.

I'm a little let down when I enter. It's not that the room isn't nice, quite the contrary, compared to the small inn room Cinnamon, Kryst and I had shared last night it's amazing. I’m not sure what I was expecting but I suppose I’d simply been hoping for something a bit more fantastical and less like a moderately high-end hotel suite.

The room is spacious with hardwood floors, decorative lamps with uncovered softly glowing luminous crystals and a few tastefully placed land and seascape paintings. The walls look to be constructed of the same stone as the rest of the Citadel. White with veins of a silvery hue that gives it that a marble like appearance. Directly opposite the doorway the wall is dominated by a large window with amber yellow curtains pulled back and tied on either side.

We are high enough that we overlook a lower rooftop section of the Silverstone Citadel giving us a lovely panoramic of the city beyond. The distant falling leaves dimming what I guess would ordinarily be a much more impressive view.

In the corners of the room, potted plants with purple and yellow flowers add not only a splash of color but a pleasant, rather refreshing scent to the air. Taking up most of the rest of the room is a sitting area. There is a table with a bowl of fresh fruit and four wooden chairs tucked neatly underneath. A couple of plump overstuffed couches, with striped pillows that match the curtains, are placed around a beautiful, brown and tan animal hide rug. I’m unfamiliar with the creature it’s from but based on the size and pattern I can only guess its some weird breed of zebra bear.

"There are two bedrooms." Morren moves over to a short hallway at the far side of the room and indicates a couple of doorways.

Taking the cue we peek inside. A carved standing wardrobe is located in one corner of the room and a chest made from a similarly dark wood and design sits at the foot of the bed.

Cinnamon lets outs a soft coo at the sight of the large bed, puffy blankets and smooth, silk sheets. The kid in me immediately wants to dash into the room and take a flying leap onto it to see if it's as soft as it looks. Naturally I refrain, but the twinkle in Cinnamons eyes has me thinking she may be picturing the same thing.

"This one's mine." Using the collar of my shirt as a handle Kryst leans over at a near horizontal angle and points at the room with a window and slightly larger bed than the first.

"You can't call dibs on a whole room, Kryst. And get your butt out of my face." I chide, though I make no move to ignore the absolutely spectacular view.

"What's a dib?" Cinnamon pipes up, poking her head into the room to see.

"It's like... laying a claim before somebody else can." I say. "You know? You see something that you'd like but it's also something that some of your friends might want too. Well, you shout dibs."

I waver as both Cinnamon and Kryst give me a strange look.

“Umm... What's a good example? Like, 'Dibs on the last slice of pizza'."

Their looks of incomprehension don't change and the realization that they have no clue what a pizza is hits me like a painful kick in the kidney. You poor, poor girls. My heart bleeds for the both of you. If I self control to not hop up onto the bed to make a fool of myself was difficult it’s nothing compared to the Hal Jordan Green Lantern willpower it takes for me to not demand Morren immediately escort us to the nearest kitchen so that I can treat the ladies to the cheesy tomato goodness of the greatest breakthrough in the history of Italian cuisine. That necessity though will simply have to wait. For now.

"Dibs on the last carrot stick." I correct.

With that, Cinnamons eyes brighten with understanding and she gives me a beaming smile.

"Oh? I like that! Catching on just as swiftly, Kryst grins, then bellows into my ear. "DIBS ON THIS ROOM!"

"Ow! What the hell is wrong with you?" I flinch my head away from the smiling, bullhorn loud barbie. "And I just told you you can't do that!"

"Why not?!" Kryst screeches.

"Uhhh... cause you're the size of my foot! Which I will put up your backside if you don't stop shouting into my ear hole."

"Tisk. Don't be a heightest, Too Tall." Kyrst ignores the threat and lowers her voice to a more normal speaking volume. "Just because you have a bit of stature on me doesn't mean you get to disregard the rules that you yourself put forward. Did I or did I not observe your proper 'dibs' custom for a just and rightful claim?"

"It's not actually a legitimate… look!" Exasperated I squeeze the bridge of my nose. This was turning into the sneeze debate all over again. "I mean it won't hold up in a court of law or anything. It's just something that you say between friends. Besides! You don't need some ginormous bed when a shoebox will do." I sneer.

"I need room to stretch." Kryst shrugs.

"Ahem." Morren puts and end to the exchange with a distinctly non-subtle clearing of his throat.

"To be continued." I whisper to Kryst, who responds by blowing an especially wet and rude sounding raspberry.

"There are chests for you to use for any items that you wish to be secured. You will find a lock and key inside of each." Morren steps into one of the bedrooms, opens the chest and lifts out a padlock styled lock and key which he then places back inside. He then turns and indicates the wardrobe in the corner.

"For this evening's festivities a selection of more appropriate clothing has already been placed into the wardrobes for you to choose from." Morren indicates the standing wooden wardrobe in each room. "Unfortunately we do not have garments for guests of your stature, madam." He turns to address Kryst directly. "That, however, is being rectified as we speak and some apparel will be delivered to the room for you shortly."

"Until that time." Exiting the bedroom Morren then steps to a third doorway at the end of the short hall and opens the door to a somewhat triangular shaped room from which wafts a subtle, clean minty scent. "The bath and privy."

Dominating most of the room, sunken into the tiled floor and already filled with water, is a polished abalone like seashell bathtub. Large enough that it could easily seat two, or perhaps three, if the occupants were feeling particularly friendly.

At one end is a dial that looks strikingly similar to a miniature six spoked ship wheel, save that on three prongs, spaced equidistant from each other, are small inset stones.

The stones, blue, red, and white, respectively, each have a small glowing rune carved into their surface and look low enough that they would sit under the surface of the water when the dial is turned.

"The bath and sink has runestones for both hot and cold so that you can adjust for your desired temperature." Morren says indicating the red and blue stones.

Cinnamon lets out another coo of delight and I unconsciously take a little sniff of my clothes. The battlefield bath from this morning had long worn off and the growing musky smell of the past few days of adventure, travel and combat stained into my clothing was becoming all the more apparent in our spotless, fresh scented surroundings.

"The third is a purification runestone." Morrens astute eyes pass over me. He steps over to a seashell wall sink that is a sea shell match to the tub. "When you wish to clean the water simply turn to the white." Morren demonstrates his instructions by turning the dial located there so that the white stone is sitting under the water.

"There is more water provided should you need it." He adds then points out a large earthenware pitcher filled with water sitting on the floor between the sink and a carved stone bench that runs the length of the shortest wall.

Judging by the general design of the bench, with its closed lacquered wooden hatch in the center, I assume it is a toilet. On either side of the bench sit potted plants with large, soft looking heart shaped leaves and inch long bulbs that seem to be the source of the pleasant scent in the air.

Morren does not explain any magical functions associated with these particular facilities and none of us go out of our way to press him for any details.

I'm overcome with a strange feeling of comfort seeing a toilet. In truth I was looking forward to using it when nature once more came calling as it addressed a situation often never touched upon at the role playing game table.

With good reason.

During our trek through the forest I'd understandably had to relieve myself in the trees and bushes. Yesterday however, while working into the early hours of the morning at the inn, the 'gotta go' urge had struck. It was then that I realized if it was one thing this world was definitely missing, it was commonplace indoor plumbing. Being forced to slip downstairs and into the cool night air to visit the communal, and therefore rather nasty, outhouse was not a particularly fond memory.

At the time I hadn't given it much thought, but now I do recall that the outhouse had also contained a similar potted plant. The difference being that it had been little more than a stripped bare twig. Curiosity getting the better of me I focus my attention upon the plants in front of me.

Knowledge Skill: Flora and Fauna: Unowned

Alternate allowable Skill check:

Survival + General Knowledge Bonus: Success!

Velvet Palm

Widespread and prevalent, this broad leafed, fast growing and durable plant has collected a variety of colorful monikers. The Bathhouse Bush, Privy Plant, and Scrub Shrub to name but a few.

When chewed the small, fibrous bulbs produce a minty taste that both refreshes the mouth and cleans the teeth and gums. The value of the soft and supple leaves, however, is one of a much more delicate and sanitary, cleaning duty.

Duty?! In an effort to hide my grin and not burst out laughing from my mind's eye analysis description I turn my back to everyone and step over to the sink. I'm such a child.

The water feels cool and slightly effervescent as I dip my hands into it and give my them a quick scrub. Immediately it starts to take on a brown pink hue from the small bits of dried blood and travel dust I'd missed when I had wiped my hands clean earlier. Like magic, as apparently that's exactly what it was, the water begins to lighten and within moments returns to its crystal clear clarity. Amazed I test it out further and turn the dial to the red stone. In moments it begins to warm as I continue to scrub free the last of the blood and grime.

The magical display is nearly enough to dismiss any further juvenile thoughts concerning the ‘Scrub Shrub.’ With my childish mirth now in check I turn to regard Morren.

"Thanks, Morren. This is all great. Please pass on our thanks to Lady Cicata will you?" I switch the dial back to purify and dry my hands with one of the soft cotton towels hanging on a conveniently placed rack on the wall.

"Of course." He nods and turns stiffly leading us back to the sitting room where he places two room keys down on the table next to the bowl of fruit.

"The gala shall begin at the 18th hour. Drinks to proceed in the northern courtyard, with food and entertainment to follow in Eternity Hall." He motions down the direction that we had arrived from. "Until that time, should you have any requests or requirements, more water, perhaps some light refreshments, you need simply inform the attendant at the desk and they will see to them.

"Oh yeah, thats what we need." Magenta sparks fly as Kryst snaps her fingers. "Refreshments! Why don't you let her know to rally us up some yum-yums on your way out."

Morren's gives Kryst an icy stare and his left eye twitches.

"Very well. If that is all?" He looks between us, pausing, as if to wait for any further questions. Apparently satisfied there was nothing else Morren nods, opens the door and steps into the hall. "Then I will take my leave. We look forward to seeing you this evening." With a slight bow he turns and marches sharply away.

"I don't think he likes you much." I offer the fairy with a raised brow once the door is closed.

"So what? I can't stand puffed up, pompous types like that." Kryst sneers leaping from my shoulder to buzz over to the table where she sets to poking through the bowl of fruit. “I mean that Hob guy was a bit of a tool too but at least his buddy Porchatta was frikkin funny. I dont think either of them liked you much, Too Tall.”

“Hob?” The light-bulb sparks to life in my brain. “You mean a Hobgoblin? Karabos? Is that what he was?”

“You’ve never run into a Hobgoblin before?” Cinnamon asks.

“Why is that weird?” My hand still on the closed door I glance back to Cinnamon and Kryst.

“For you? Not really. You do weird better than most.” Kryst gives me an haughty smirk. “I mean, I wouldn't say they are especially common.”

“Are they some sort of an offshoot of the species? Just a bigger, more evolved form goblin.” From my knowledge of RPG’s I’m more than familiar of course, but I’d rather get the lowdown from the ladies to see if there is any difference between this world and my recollection from my various monster manuals.

Kryst and Cinnamon share a uncomfortable glance.

“It’s sometimes what happens when goblins breed with various other races. They are larger, stronger and tougher. You find more of them in the wild goblin tribes. They ones that aren't as…” Cinnamon ears lower, “civilized.”

She doesn’t have to paint any clearer of a picture. I hold up my hand and nod my head to express that I understand what she is implying. I’ve read enough books regarding the lore for how half-orcs and sometimes even half-elves are created. The horrible and all to common ‘spoils of war’ mentality prevalent in fantasy games, stories and unfortunately the real life history of my world.

“They don’t share the same cognitive cohesion as goblins. So being that they can think for themselves without needing some large group to stimulate their brain; coupled with their size and strength its not uncommon to find Hobs leading feral tribes.” Cinnamon, clearly nervous about the earlier dibs discussion drops her bags in the hallway near the doorways to, but not actually inside, either of the two bedrooms.

“Most are sterile or can only breed with other hobs. I have heard rumors of a community somewhere in the Brunderfell Mountains.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the same but take that with a hefty dose of doubtful.” Kryst says while absently sniffing at what seems to be a bright red pear.

"Well hobgoblins aside, don't you guys find this all it a bit odd?" I walk over to the table and lean on the back of one of the chairs and take a look around the room.

"What do you mean?" Cinnamon asks walking over to join us at the table.

"It's just, Crod comes to the Citadel and visits Lady Civatas office, right? And then when we meet her she doesn't even mention it? In fact she seemed like she had no knowledge of Cinnamon and us at all. Crod would have let her know that Midnight was Cinnamons relative. Don't you think?"

"Who's to say what they talked about.” Kryst finally makes a decision and plucks what looks like a blue colored bean hanging from a stem in the fruit crowded bowl. “He could have gone to see the guard then just stopped in to see Civata afterward. That Ellian girl did say that they have dealings with him on a fairly regular basis."

"I suppose that is true." I wobble my head. "But does that really add up either? Think about it. I mean the guards knew about Cinnamons relationship when they sent that scriber message to Marshal Thomas. Your… Pop-Pop is someone really important. That's why we were being escorted to see Lady Civata in the first place."

Both of the ladies look between each other and then at me.

“How about the fact that the guards were looking for you in particular." I point a pinkie toward the fairy.

"That's true." Kryst mumbles then takes a bite from the bean, smearing her lips with syrupy thick blue juice.

"And what about the thing with the lifter and Karabos? I definitely get a bad feeling from that guy, so yeah, you hit the nail on the head with that one, Kryst. From what he was saying he has been pushing for some type of maintenance lately and seems to be on the outs with Civata and the council about it.” I look at Cinnamon. “Then a lifter that you are on just happens to get sabotaged? Coincidence?”

Concern creases Cinnamons brow and her tail gives a double twitch. "Do you think that the lifter accident was because of me? Because I'm related to Pop-Pop?"

"Maybe?" I huff. "I dunno. It could be that was why we were targeted and then when the all of those guards got involved it was to risky for anyone to make another move." I suck my teeth. This was getting me nowhere. I was simply throwing out conjecture. Brainstorming out the plot with the rest of the PC’s at the game table was fun but in the end always a huge time waster. Ninety nine times out of a hundred we would be completely wrong. Though, I have a strong suspicion that was usually because the various Gamemasters would change the narrative based on what was discussed in their presence. Something that I’d always hated. Like they were somehow a bad storyteller if their players followed the clues and correctly worked everything out. I shake the memories of uncovering Milo the stableboy being the secret necromancer when all signs had clearly pointed to the Mayors estranged son.

"Listen, Kryst, you're pretty fast right?" I turn to the fairy on the table. We needed some sort of concrete evidence to go on.

"Yeah..." Kryst narrows her eyes in suspicion.

"Do me a favor? If you jet on back over to the bridge, Ellian said that Crod should be back there by now. Maybe you can just find out what happened. Who he talked to and what strings he pulled."

Kryst sucks her teeth "I would really rather not."

"C'mon. You could be there and back lickity split. I mean no one's gonna futz with you if you are flying. And you have this Gleam marker sash thing on." I reach down and tug on the silky ribbon around her waist.

"Don't remind me." Kryst rolls her eyes.

Running her fingers over the back of her head and through her short but stylish hair Kryst looks out over the city. Her eyes focused on the haze of falling leaves in the direction of the gates, the outlying fields and the river winding its way through the forest in the distance.

"Is this really that important? How's this for a counter offer? Now hear me out. We get some food and relax until the party. Then tonight, since you seem have a good knack for chatting with people, you can turn on that boy-toy charm of yours, get on that Lady Civatas good side, and simply pump her for information." Kryst wiggles her brows.

I notice Cinnamons frown at the secondary innuendo of Krysts statement. I choose not to address it, or her blatant objectification of me as simply a piece of man candy. "Not saying that trying to find out more tonight isn't a good idea, but I would rather have a bit more data to go on beforehand. In case two and two doesn't add up to four."

"Alright fine." Kryst lets out a long overly dramatic sigh. "I'll waste my valuable relaxation time flying alllll the way out there and question the crusty stink smith. But I'm telling you now, Too Tall. You owe me."

"Put it on my tab, Tink." I smirk.

"Count on it." With a sparklie grin Kryst steps backward off the windowsill disappearing out of sight before zipping into the air and shooting toward the outskirts of town like a magenta hued tracer round.