Green Enters The City Of Splendors

A day and a half of good paced riding takes you to a hill overlooking the
city of Waterdeep.  A walled city sitting on the banks of a natural harbor,
and at the foot of a mountain, Mt. Waterdeep itself.  Ross pulls up at the
top of the hill and already you can smell the salty ocean air as surveys
the city below him.  To the east is a heavily forested region leading up
to small mountains and for those that had never seen a city before, the
sight of a city of 200,000 people is almost overwhelming.  

Softly, almost a whisper, Ross says, "Almost home."  He spurs his horse
to lead the way down the mountain and towards the South Gate, just to 
the east of the harbor.  The sun is just touching down into the water
at the coming of evening and as you approach the gates you can hear
shouts and cries from within, as though the whole city were celebrating
your return.

"My goodness, Faron.  Already the first of Tarsakh?" Ross asks with a grin.

"Not hardly, Milord.  The evening of the first of Tarsakh and the festival
into it's third day.  We'll be hard pressed to make the mansion in an hour,"
Faron replies.  "Crowds," he adds with a wink to Fynvola, whom he seems to
have ridden near the entire day.

As you enter the gate, guards salute Ross and nothing is said of an entry
fee as you pass into the City of Splendors... into an almost riot.

The crowds are overflowing from every inn and tavern, and of course near
the gates of the city there are numerous inn's and taverns.  The streets
are close packed as it is and with the pedestrian traffic, the going is
slow, though you notice that during the ride through town, there are times
when a few of the people notice your passing, doffing their hats and raising
a glass to you, or perhaps it is to Ross they throw these minor affections.

Lord Marquet smiles warmly at all and once in awhile calls out the name
of someone he recognizes in the crowd, and seeing their leader so relaxed,
his men do the same, some even accepting a mug from a friend in the crowd
as they ride along.

Soon all becomes somewhat quieter, the air a tad more elegant, as Inns
of a more prestigious nature wait on a clientele that would celebrate the
first day of spring with a fine evening of dinner and dance.  Instead
of the shouts and cheers near the gate, you can now hear the sounds of
violins and flutes wafting from various multi-storyed inns.  The streets
begin to widen and progress is made towards the foot of Mt. Waterdeep.

The gate surrounding the house is a blend of black wrought iron mounted
in cut stone, coming to a gate to let forth four abreast.  The crest
on the gate matches Ross's emblem, the Nine spokes, no doubt done in gold.

Turning up a quiet street, Ross leads everyone up to a fenced Mansion,
lying right at the base of the mountain.  Two men man the gate and
opening the doors, doff their hats and welcome their Lords' return.

From a side door in the gate, where the men can stay in inclement weather,
comes the blond haired Zeptha, holding her breath, until she sees Darrin,
and then she is practically dragging him from the horse to see if he is
okay.

"I'm fine, I'm fine... we're all fine.  We did it, Zep.  We did it!"  Darrin
calls out as somehow he gets a foot under him before he falls flat on his
face to the cobbled road.

As the cousins greet each other, you can not help but notice the magnificent
mansion separated from the row by trees and pleasant dewy grass.  The mansion
is white, with a stabling area off to one side, almost like something out
of a fairy tale.  Ross motions for Faron to lead everyone to the house, while
he waits to greet his bride-to-be.  Faron nods once and then with a grin, he
leads you to the front porch, where the second the door is opened, he is
quick to begin delegating duties to the household staff, each in the cleanest
uniforms, all wearing Ross's crest on his surcoat.  Separate rooms are already
made up for each of you and a personal valet is quick to spot each of you, 
uncannily knowing who each person is, and lead him to a guest room.  Each room
has a copper tub in a separate bathing area.

All of you are informed that dinner will be in one hour.

Dalin quickly pulls Darrin the side and mutters something into his ear.
Dalin then looks down at his attire with a grimace on his face. "I do
believe a bath would be in order", comments Dalin in quite astonished
tone of voice. "Darrin I will be in my room if you wish to talk with me
further."

The emerald-eyed youth stands surprised by Dalin's comment, and then
ducks his head with a heavy sigh.  "I feared this.  Thank you, Dalin.
I will see you at dinner shortly, friend."

"Dalin, my friend. Get cleaned up and hold your head high. Please join me
and Jeremiah, who promises to watch my ale intake during dinner, and we'll
raise a cup to missing friends."

Dalin smiles at Dunz a replies, "Thank you Dunz.  To missing friends
indeed. I shall be down shortly", Dalin looks at his clothes again, "as
you see I seem to be getting dirtier by the minute!"

Shiro, upon seeing such a sight stares in wonderment. It is the first major
western city he has ever visited. He has seen cities before, but nothing
like this. He notes how lax the guards are at the gates even though there is
a festival of some sort, festivals similiar to theirs back home. Shiro also
notes how carefree and outgoing the people are compared to his own. His eyes
carefully take in their route into the city as well as the various types of
buildings as they travel on. His small village was not built as sturdy as
this. Most everything he tries to soak up studying the stone and mortar.
Houses that could withstand storms or invasions. Once at the mansion he
slides from the mount of the soldier "Domo arigato" he says with a slight
bow in token thanks.
    Entering his appointed room as he leaves the others to their thoughts
and happy mingling he wonders what he will do................but feeling the
weight of the road as well as the dust and grime, he strips after fiddling
with the overlarge basin which is somewhat similiar to the hot baths in his
village. Except these use some sort of pipes and knobs to function. After
some time he gets the water temperature right watching the steam rise from
the clear liquid he slides into its relaxing depths feeling the tenseness in
his whole body flow from his soul. It is a small pleasure, one that he will
not take advantage of too often. For it will only weaken a warrior.
Secondly, he would be disloyal for not showing proper giri (duty) to his
master even though he was a land away. Shiro soon rises and slips into
cushioned underwear that will guard his groin, elbows and knees, and tabi
for his feet. Over this a lightweight reinforced silk gi with patterns of
animals, the most visible of which was a twisting golden dragon. Over this
he pulls a montsuki, large-sleeved top, and the hakama, broad-legged pants,
and the kamishimo, or over vest which is emblazoned with his families crest
before he descends the stairway to meet the others for evenfeast.

After mutterring under his breath about having to ride the infernal beast
here, Zant decides to indulge himself. He takes a long bath, then dresses in
his best clothes (a black, sleave-less tunic, grey breeches, black boots,
and a wide, red belt). He then wanders off to find the dinning hall, staff
in hand.

Fynvola giggles in her musical voice at the sight of a tub and begins
to hastily make preparations for a good soak!

Looking through her pack she silently laments she has nothing
appropriate for their current location to wear, but then shrugs, lays
out her Jade breeches and ivory silk blouse and climbs into the
prepared tub into blissful relaxation!

As she soaks a smile gently curves her lip and she hums a romantic
tune as thoughts of her dashing young employer flit through her
head...

With a happy heart and a special smile, Jeremiah joins the others as they enter
the quarters provided for them.  A chance to cleanse the dirt and grime and
actually feel clean again is a genuine joy at this point of the long journey.
Taking his cue from the others, he heads for his assigned room.

"Know that I will join you for dinner and what spirits we may find here in this
place of kind and noble persons.  We shall see just what tales and spirits we
may share with our hosts.  But first, the chance to clean, to rest briefly, and
to dress in one's best; this is a rare treat."

Then dragging his backpack, bedroll, healer's bag and worn carcass to his room,
he adjourns so as to be ready for dinner in an hour's time.

The warrior eyes the bed and the copper tub before turning to the valet.
"Is there time to take a hot bath before dinner?" Then his stomach rumbles
from the pleasant cooking smells while he waits for the answer.

The young aide at his side, says softly, "As hot as thou like, Sir Knight.
These bathing tubs we have are quite the wonder.  Hot water at the turn
of a knob.  It is of gnomish design," he adds as he waits to help the
warrior with his armor.

"Fine. A quick hot bath then before dinner. And if someone could clean my
clothes/armor in the meantime?" says the big warrior while beginning to
disrobe.

"Done, Milord.  I shall polish thine armor myself," the aide says taking
each piece as Dunz removes his garments.

"By the way, I would think there is no need to wear my sword to dinner ...
 ... should I leave the armor as well? What is the
ettiquette in this household regarding armor and weapons?"

The attendant for Dunz answers quickly, "Whatever thou feels most
comfortable with Milord.  We are all trained in the arts of war,
and in the arts of service here in this house.  I think you will see
what it is I speak of once you are in the dining hall.  While this 
is not our training compound located to the east of our great city,
this is still a house of warriors.  We are taught respect for each
other's beliefs.  Dinner is casual attire, but some I adventure with,
would call full plate mail, ... casual.  Dress how you will, Sir Knight."

----------
Each aide waits patiently for their charge and then proceeds to guide
everyone downstairs and into the dining hall.

Three massive, hand carved tables sit with one table across the back
of the room, facing the entrance, with the other two set a third of the
way from either end, extending perpendicular to the main table.  On
the wall above the table, is a giant tapestry, Nine figures depicted
fighting a blue dragon, flying above them.  A woman leads the nine
adventurers, standing at the forefront, fire emanating from her fingers.
The tapestry encompasses the entire wall, with Mountains and waterfalls
filling the background.

On the side walls, are set shields with heraldic designs, some to a 
particular family and some to a particular God.  Anyone looking back to
the entrance wall will see two sets of fancy plate mail standing to either
side of the doorway.  For all they do not move, nor make a sound, they 
might be empty, but you can not be sure.  Above the door, is a crosstitched
map of Waterdeep, the various wards separated by dark thread, the major
thoroughfares in red.

Ross sits in the center of the main table facing you, rising to his feet 
upon your entrance.  "Welcome.  Please find seats near to me and my wife
to be.  She will be here shortly, Darrin and her wished for me to tell you
they would be right down."

Fynvola bows her head to the head of the household and begins to seat
herself
 
The blond, angelic Faron stands as well, and pulling forth a chair next
to his, he bows gracefully to Fynvola, inviting her to grace his prescence.

Fynvola looks frightened for but a heartbeat then smiles and sits
with Faron
 
Even as you are sitting down, teenage young men are quick to come forward
bearing sourdough rolls and filling your wine glasses with a light red wine.

She smiles at the youths and sips her wine gracefully after it is
poured.

She speaks quietly to her companion in elven

In elven Fynvola speaks to Faron, her voice light but her words
serious,  "I find you disconcerting, sir faron.  I am uncertain if I
can joust so well as you, though words are my world..."

"I swear to you dear lady, that I mean no harm to young Darrin.  But if
my heart should break any further from the first moment my eyes were
lit with your beauty, I would rather die on my very next campaign.
I say simply, let the better man win your heart, and let the child
grow a few more years.  I know Darrin well, he is untried in the
arts of Love and indeed has shied over the years from women even as
friends.  There, no jousting at all, I have said quite plainly what
is laid bare in my breaking heart, breaking now for two days, because
the light of my life would come close to me only with the boy in tow.
One night is all I ask, a night to prove my troth to thee."  Faron's
eyes seem to block out the entire room around you as they capture your
eyes and his heart speaks through them as well as in his brilliant 
usage of the elven tongue.

Struck dumb for once mayhaps the fifth timein her life, Fynvola can
only stare, barely remembering to breathe at the speech of the elf.
She remains dumb and becomes more shocked still at Dalin's
arrogant intervention.  Slowly, hot colour rises her cheeks and her
eyes flash fury and her dumbness is wiped clear.

Gliding like the night's wind, Tag breathes softly from your other side,
"Milady Quain, may I sit with Faron and you, until Darrin hears the
dinner bell.  Faron," Tag nods with a grin.

The big warrior strides into the dining room looking cleaned and refreshed.
He pauses at the entranceway, gazing at the shiny plate armor, before
slowly moving inside while taking in the decor. Upon spotting the shield of
Tyr hanging on the wall, he smiles briefly, turns and seats himself
directly across from it. He waits patiently even after the servants leave
and studies the room more closely as the others arrive.

Dalin sits down in his seat and graciously accepts the wine and rolls.
Upon hearing Faron's comments he casts a detestable gaze at him. Dalin
lifts the glass to his lips and takes a sip of wine, never letting his
glance leave Faron. "Milord the wine is excellent! I thank you for taking
us in. Tell me about these tapestries, they seem to have caught my
interest."

Faron-du-lac smiles softly towards Dalin and then promptly begins
to ignore the young warrior going back to his conversation with
Fynvola and Tag.

Ross nods to Dalin and says after a sip of his own wine, "Yes, the
wine came up with your cargo, part of Milady Zeptha's wedding gift
from her father.  If all red wines held just a hint of sweetness, 
I would be much more fond of wine.  As to the wonderful tapestry
above my head.  I wish I could point out to you which of the Nine I
was, but at the time, Laeral had taken a shine to a young warrior,
allowing him to learn all manner of things so that some day he could
fight at her side, along with the other members of the Nine.  That
day, I held our horses while they vanquished this beast not ten
miles to the East of Waterdeep. For many years, the exploits of the
Nine, were the talk throughout this town, until Laeral and the
others travelled to other worlds, leaving quite a few of their
young hopefuls.  We sit in their mansion, and this is the one room
that will never undergo change, though I used the treasure in the
coffers to refurbish the rest of the house so that I can play the
game of politics that much better here in this city of intrigue."

After recieving the smirk from Faron, Dalin promplty makes a heated
comment in elven to him.

"How dare you disgrace my language and my race! You are as honorable as
common street trash." This is said in a lower tone as Dalin trys not to 
attract too much attention. 

Quietly with apparant calm, Fynvola folds her napkin and places it
upon the table before her.  Tag and Zan might recognize the angry
glint in her eyes but the smile she graces her companions belies the
angry eyes. "Will you please excuse me for but a few moments...," she
speaks to Tag, Faron and Zan as she stands and begins to rise from
her chair.  She bows her head to the head of the household again as
she moves beside Dalin and gracefully bends her knees to lower her
mouth to his ear level and carefully shields her mouth from the
others to whisper in elven, "I think, dear Dalin, you forget
yourself.  Faron is Lord Ross's right hand man and not required nor
expected to take slurs for his choice of language use.  If it is my
honour you mean to protect, I thank-you for the valiant effort but I
am well able to take care of myself.  If it is truly an exception to
the use of the Elven tongue, I must say I didn't expect such
boorishness from you.  Have a care, m'lord, have a care."

Before Fynvola leaves Dalin replies to her comment in elven. After
finishing he raises his head and nods at Faron. "My deepest apoligies
Milord Ross, I have not been myself these past few days.", Dalins look
moves to Faron. Dalin speaks to him in a calm tone in elven

Elven1:
"I am deeply sorry milady, but Darrin has done much for me and to see him
hurt would be a dagger in my breast. I am only try to protect friends. I
have felt dark since Cathil's leave. Please forgive me....I should have
caught my tongue, but the fire within overcame me. Please let Faron
understand my reasons, as I do not want to offend Lord Ross."

She stands and gracefully, slowly and with a smile upon her lips
as though she had not a care in the world, makes use of the deluge
of entering guests to brush past them and escape the hall.  Once in
the hallway she looks for the nearest window or doorway so she can
get some air...

An attendent standing against the far wall asks if Fynvola is well,
and is quick to open a window at the end of the hallway for her to
get some air.  The early spring air is a little chill, and the back
windows open onto an expanse of lawn leading straight to Mount Waterdeep.
The smell of newborn flowers in a garden just to the left of the
window mingle to form a pleasant aroma.

Hearing footsteps behind you, you then hear Zeptha's pleasant voice speak
softly, "I will check on her, Darrin.  Stay here for a second."  Moments
later Zeptha is at Fyn's side.  "Dearest friend, is everything alright?
My what a pleasant view.  The sunset is very beautiful from the window
just above."

Behind you, Darrin gulps uncomfortably, worry leaping into his emerald
eyes, made all the more brighter by the clothes he chose for dinner.
Darrin wears a loose, long sleeved black satin tunic, over black pants 
and belted round with a silver cord.  Loose fitting the arrangement 
looks quite comfortable, though perhaps the clothes look more comfortable
than the young man at the moment.

Fynvola envelopes the other girl in a hug, "Lady Zeptha, it so good
to see you again!" she says as she hugs and then continues after she
has released her friend, "Are you well? Have you everything in order
for your wedding?" her voice is bright and conversational, but she
glances away shortly afterwards, her eyes troubled.  Her eyes stray
again to Darrin's handsome form and she almost smiles before
returning her gaze to the window...

Zeptha laughs gaily at Fynvola's questions returning her friend's
hug fervently.  "I am fine and so glad to see all of you again.
You can't know what it was like waiting here and knowing that Ross
might return with such terrible news.  Instead... now that you are
here, everything is ready for the wedding.  We have the most
beautiful gowns to wear, I made the seamstress prepare one for you,
though you should try it on early in the morning just to make sure.
I think you've lost some weight, my friend.  But why are you out
here, if it were not for talking to Darrin I would be in enjoying
the festivities and enjoying Ross's company.  What do you think
of him, Fyn... and," she lowers her voice, "I see you glance at
Darrin,... how are things between you.  He seemed to be hiding
something from me, and I see him fidgeting as he watches us.  Are
you getting along alright?" she worries.  

Fynvola's smile widens and brightens at the discussion of the wedding
and she looks excited until Zeptha turns the topic back to herself.
Her face looks haunted for a moment, though she covers it quickly and
shrugs with a smile, "Oh, I am fine...I just needed some air..." but
she looks at her hands, which are clenched together and stops and
takes a deep breathe before looking up at her friend with tears in
her eyes.

"I can't lie to you, Zeptha.  I am confused..."

Zeptha is quick to pull forth a hand embroidered hanky and positioning
herself in front of Darrin so that he can not see the distraught Fynvola,
she herself dabs at the tears until Fynvola takes the handkerchief from
her hands.

she stops again, struggling for her words,

"I feel so much for your cousin, Zeptha...my breathe catches when I
look at how handsome he is and I nearly died when he was hurt.  But
Ross's Faron has been talking to me...he says Darrin is a boy that he
is too young to know what he wants or needs.  He says that what I
feel is infatuation that I should step away..."

another pause...her hands tremble as she opens them helplessly,

"What do I know of love or infatuation?  What if Faron is right and I
am causing trouble for Darrin and/or me...I-I don't want to be a
burden to him when his infatuation is over and I don't know if we
would feel this way with time apart between us.  Faron says I should
go out with him and let him show me the city...let Darrin have some
time to think on what he wants and me also.  Oh Zeptha...what do I
do?  Faron is more skilled of tongue as any bard I have heard and
sounds so reasonable with his words but my fool heart longs to be
near only Darrin.  I-I..."

"Faron is... Faron," Zeptha nods.  "If it were not for Ross, my heart
would flutter near him as well.  "Graceful and charming and one to
definately speak his mind.  But then... there were those who said
I was only infatuated with Ross, and those that claim that Ross is
only marrying into my family for political or monetary reasons,"
Zeptha says.  "But we have known for three years that we were meant
to spend eternity together.  I had known young suitors throughout
that time and even before I met Ross, have you never had a close
childhood friend?  Did your parents never have fancy dress balls,
or were you never approached by young suitors yourself?"

"My parents had long ago made a pact with Zan's folks that we would
marry so I was discouraged from meeting with any but he is more like
a brother to me than suitor"   Fynvola confides wistfully.

"As for trouble, I know Faron well enough over the last few years.
He would not cause you trouble if you rebuffed him.  You have only
just met him... and you have only just met Darrin, really.  I would
love for you to someday tie the knot around Darrin's finger, if only
so I would know we would see each other constantly, though... even
I grow jealous of the time he spends on the road and with his friend
Tag.  And..." she leans close to confide... "I am a great believer in
one thing.  Don't think about them... think about you.  If it makes
you happy to be near both... then take your time and learn about both
of them.  There is no quick decision to be made when it comes to your
happiness.  Oh, and how lucky you are to have two such wonderful
suitors and you watch... there will be more headed your way, though
some will be truly boorish and others not so fair of face... I 
remember a pimply-faced little brat..."

Fynvola looks shocked at Zeptha's words then she laughs her musical
laugh and places a hand on Zeptha's arm as she does so.  "I have
dearly needed one such as you, Zeptha!  The sister I never had!  I
fancy you may be right...I am young and should live as any filly
does, high-stepping and free until she settles to become a mare!
Thank-you!" she laughs again delighted.

"Hey, Zep," Darrin calls not daring to come any closer.  "Is everything
okay.  Can I..." he trails off seeing Fyn's sudden laughter.

"You stay right where you are, Darrin," Zeptha says with a grin.  "This
is women's talk and it concerns you, so don't you come near.  In fact...
why don't you go into the room there..."

"But I want you to be there, Zep.  I know Ross is going to offer me a 
place amongst his men, I just know it.  It's what I've dreamed of
Zeptha, no more stodgy old caravan routes," you can hear the thrill
in his pleasant voice.

"Then you must wait to become a mercenary," Zeptha's eyes roll heavensward.

"You don't understand.  You aren't tied to a caravan.  I made a hundred gold
for a run from Baldur's to here, and for what.  No fame, no recognition,"
he mutters petulantly behind her... but Fynvola sees that Darrin comes not
one step closer to the window as his cousin requested.  "I want to do
something memorable, so that Fynvola will have cause to right a ballad
about me," he smiles widely and winks when he catches Fyn's eyes.

Zeptha leans close to her friend Fynvola, and whispering so that Darrin can
not hear, she says, "Ross has something planned, it was why I kept Darrin
busy, but now please take your seat, and then we will come in a minute later.
After that, I'll make sure that Darrin sits nearby... he has the right to
fend off any of Faron's advances."

Fyn smiles as she walks towards her handsome once-employer and winks
at him, leans closer and whispers loud enough for Zeptha to hear,
"Dear Darrin...you already -=have=- done something memorable...you
already have..." and she smiles over at Zeptha before re-entering the
room and taking her chair with a lighter heart!

"But, I didn't do anything..." he trails off looking askance at Zeptha.
"I got run over by an orc, great fighter that I am."
-----------
The warrior arches his eyebrows quizzically at Dalin because of the byplay
between he and Faron. He continues to just sit and observe.

Shaking his head in disgust Dalin turns to reply to Ross' story. "Milord, 
what has happened to the other members of the Nine, are they still about? 
It would be an honor to meet these people."

Faron smiles and replies softly in elvish, "Your beautiful tongue,
is the language of love, elf... what other words should be spoken
with so wonderful a language."

Dalin face burns hot red upon Faron's description of the Elvish tounge.
Muscles tense in his arm as his grasp tightens on his wine glass. Dalin
retaliates with another heated Elven phrase.

"How dare you , a human, decide that my language is used only to
fulfill your sensual desires. My language has been used in the forming of
nations and the slaughtering of millions! You have no right to defile my
language for your petty affairs, or tell me how it is to be used!" -elven

Ross quickly comments, "Not many of the Nine returned alive, though
many will tell you that sad tale, I will not comment on it.  It is in
the past and now Laeral walks at Khelben Arunson's side, healed of the
sickness that overcame hear and made her commit many atrocities.  If any
others of the Nine still live, it is only Laeral that knows of their
existence.  We do not speak much since her return... it pains both
of us to remember the way things were.  She is a great woman and well
loved in Waterdeep, perhaps in time, old wounds will heal for both of
us."

As Ross speaks, Faron smiles at his young elven dinner companion and
finally in Common says softly, "I said only that your language is
beautiful, young man... I did not mean to upset you by that comment.
Unfortunately the beauty of your language is darkened when used to
describe slaughtering fellow beings, and so to not darken this evening
any further I shall refrain from using your lovely language, though
I am told that I am an adept speaker and could almost pass for one
of your brethern."

Elven2:
"Faron, I do not know you, but my friends welfare was in question. I
simply desired to protect him from any harm."<>                                          

"Desire can be an even stronger emotion than true love," Faron replies softly
in common.  "No harm intended... no harm done."  Ross looks on and then
continues to answer the questions put forth to him.

Dalin bows respectfully to Ross and lowers his head again only to stare
into his wine glass seemingly in deep thought.

     Shiro takes the proffered seat and waits with subdued patience for the
interesting western cuisine. He takes note of the wonderously decorated
dining hall and the spacious amount of room. It is nothing like his home,
where all space is equalized and in balance with the harmony of the
individual as well as the terrain outside. Shiro partakes lightly of
whatever is offered. For later he may regret this sumptuous rich meal. He
listens to all that is said half heartedly and wonders why the host has
called this the City of Intrigue.
      "Dozo sumimasen ga honorable san. You call City of Intrigue?" (please
excuse honorable sir). Asks Shiro with interest his mind a jumble of thoughts.
      For in the political arena of his land, intrigue, mystery, and death
were a constant plague. Here it seemed that the western world was actually
no different, only their barbaric manner, speech, and dress. Something, now
that he reflected on it, was the same way they must view him; a barbarian.
Perhaps this world has something to offer afterall. But only time will tell
as he takes a tentative sip of the red wine. If only he had his saki, he
thought. Much better than this bitter sweet concoction.

As the talk continues, the hall begins to fill with more of Ross's troupe,
taking seats around the room, including several of the men and women
that accompanied Darrin and Zeptha from Baldur's Gate.

Ross turns to Shiro and says with a knowing grin, "Yes... intrigue as 
only a city of two hundred thousand can support, especially a city
that is so important to the entire Sword Coast.  Some even view my
upcoming marriage to be just another move in the game, though if
I did not lover her, I could never wed Zeptha just to help the
Lord's Alliance gain a stronger tie to Baldur's Gate.  We strengthen
ourselves against dark enemies, the Zhentarim, the Captain's Confederation,
and even the mercantile company, the Arcane Brotherhood.  And in turn
our strength goes to help Baldur's Gate against enemies from Amn and 
Calimshan.  I am always at the call of Lord Piergeiron when he needs
my mercenaries to stave off problems, in addition to being hired out
for other purposes, though, unlike the early days of our careers, 
I am very choosey who I sell my services to.  With spring here, my
men are readying themselves already to march towards the dales
to thwart the Zhentarim on that front this summer."

Fynvola also returns to the crowded hall.

As he speaks, Darrin opens the far door, and strides to the center
of the room, the lovely Zeptha on his arm.  Zeptha smiles warmly
at all of you, a wink going to Fynvola as she walks to sit next
to Lord Marquet.  Her long gown of midnight blue, actually brings
out the eyes of her husband to be as he smiles at her entranced.
Darrin wears a loose fitting, long sleeved black satin tunic, over
black pants and belted round with a silver cord.  Loose fitting the
arrangement looks quite comfortable, his emerald eyes sparkling in
the dancing lights around the hall.

Darrin bows before Ross Marquet and is about to take a seat, glancing
towards the area where Fyn has taken a seat, but Ross says quickly, 
"Cousin, I throw this feast in honor of thy brave deeds and commend you
and your company for thy grand rescue."

"Milord, they are a fine group indeed, but they are most unfortunately
not my company, Ross.  They are great men and women, though, and I
would suggest that you consider offering them a place at your side,"
Darrin nods and begins once again to take a step towards Fynvola.

"And what of you, Darrin?  Laeral herself, made the same offer to me
when I was your age.  Destiny's Warriors has room for a valiant heart
such as yours.  I do not offer because, I am about to wed, but because
I have watched you grow for ten years and like the appearance of the
man before me from the child that used to be such a nuisance in this
hall."

"No thought is necessary, Milord.  I have a dreamed of joining such a
band as yours, since first I came here.  My life is in your hands, Lord
Marquet," Darrin says without hesitation.

"I shall protect it with my own, Darrin," Ross replies just as solemn.
"A toast to our newest brother," Ross replies lifting his glass and
then draining it along with everyone in the room.

There is a deafening cheer as the multitude in the room cheer for their
newest addition.

Fynvola claps heartily for her friend and casts a smiling "So now
what do you say" look at Faron before returning her gaze to Darrin in
his moment of glory.

Faron-du-Lac grins back in return, and then is one of the first on his
feet to go congratulate Darrin with a hearty thump on his back.  Several
more of Ross's men, and it looks like many of them are already quite
familiar with Darrin are right behind Faron to welcome him with handshakes
and tousling of hair.

When the room quiets somewhat she quietly asks Tag, "Will you stay in
Waterdeep now that Darrin has joined Lord Ross's band?   I wonder if he will be kept busy now..."

Tag sitting quietly near Fynvola, notices that she is a little preoccupied
and takes his time before replying.  "I suppose that Darrin had not
told you, then.  This was to be hopefully our last trip... he already
hoped that Ross would make this offer just on strength of the marriage.
I was asked many years ago if I was ready to give up a life of trade, 
and I was already asked earlier this evening again.  I wish to keep my
answer to myself for just awhile longer.  And to prepare you..."

"Tag, Tag," Faron interrupts from right behind Fynvola.  "Not now old
friend, huh?"  Faron grins and actually gives Tag a wink.  "As for
Darrin being kept busy, you have inadvertantly asked one of two people
who would know.  I will try not to take up all his time, but at first
we must find out what we have in that youthful warrior to shape and
mold into a leader."

  The large, bald wizard sits in silent contemplation. Zantorax seems at the
brink of a great decission. He looks across the table to where Fyn is once
again seated and sais in a voice that demands attention from not only Fyn,
but those closest to her and Zant, "My betrothed, may I have a word with you
once this feast is done."

Faron glances up at hearing these words, a curious expression on his
face.  He murmers, "How many adversaries do I have, I wonder?"

With an uncustomary wink, Fyn leans to Faron and replies with a
smile, "I should think you would have no fear of adversaries so long
as the playing field were fair.  I look forward to my tour of
Waterdeep, m'lord..."

"I would not worry if this field were placed with traps and five
headed dragons... so long as I knew there was a chance that you
would be awaiting me on the other side.  I will make time for
your tour of Waterdeep, Milady, at the earliest convenience, but
her splendors will look tarnished next to your great beauty,"
Faron says with a bow before going back into the throng around Darrin.

Fynvola sighs and shakes her head...but her eyes are glittering with
the effect of the flattery.

Fyn smiles again at Faron and nods acknowledgement to his words
before returning her open gaze to Tag and slipping into elven, "I am
sorry, Tag, I meant not to pry, only to express a friend's concern.
I owe much to you and hoped to enjoy the chance to repay some of
that debt o'er the days to come."

She takes up her goblet and takes several dainty sips, somehow
draining it in the process.  She smiles to a young serving lad with
more of the sweet liquid and takes the opportunity to gaze
around the room as she awaits it's replenishment...

"I think you will have that opportunity...," Tag rises and takes the
carafe from the young server and pours for Fynvola, himself.  " even if 
I don't stay in Ross's employ, I myself would not hasten unduly back to 
the life of a merchant without my friend sitting at my side," Tag says with
a nod towards Darrin.  "Waterdeep has certain attractions for me...
Darrin will always know where I can be found in this city.  No, you are
not rid of me, Lady Fynvola Quain."  Tag gives you one of his half-smiles
and then raises his eyebrows and cocks his head in Faron's direction.
"If you need me, I am not far," he reiterates... "In fact with the wedding
so soon, I will stay here for awhile."

Fynvola places a hand on Tag's arm and smiles brightly, "That's
wonderful Tag!   As though I want
rid of you, young man !  I look forward
to spending some time with you, Tag, if you will permit me:-)!"

"I would be delighted... I wonder... well we will see, perhaps there
are some places I should show you, Fynvola, places Faron can not go,"
he adds, but he doesn't seem to be saying anything bad about Faron
when he mentions this.  "As to be called young... that has not happened
in some time.  But I did make promise to thee, Fynvola, while we road
that I would take time to answer some of your history queries."

The warrior partakes in the drink, the food, the drink, the cheering until
the celebration breaks up before heading back to his room for a much longer
hot bath and a good night's sleep on soft bedding.<>

You are stopped at the door, by Ross himself.  "I've been meaning to speak
with you, son.  Tag has told me you are an excellent tactician, and a warrior
of great skill.  There are ways to make money and fame as an adventurer... 
all you would need is someone to point out opportunities.  I have helped 
freelance groups in the past, and I have offered men such as yourself a place
in Destiny's Warriors, my own group.  I offer either choice to you and your
friends.  There is plenty of time for you to decide, Dunz Kann."

"Milord, I am honored that you think me worthy of your company, however
inexperienced I may be for such a distinguished group."

"I had thought to strike out with some of the fellows in our own company if
enough of them are interested. However, I (we) would appreciate hearing of
any opportunities suited for a group as ourselves. Allow me to check with
my companions in the morning to sound them out?

"Oh. I know this is not the best timing, I wish to see about the special
crossbow we briefly talked about before adventuring again and it may not be
possible to get one overnight. So I would like to see to it while we
partake of your hospitality. Could you direct me to whom I should see?"<>

"I thought to bring that matter to Faron's attention, but as he will
be a little busy tomorrow, I will take care of the matter.  Give me a 
few moments," he adds as he sees the commotion with your companions back
at the table.  "I will catch up to you... meet you at your room if you
will.  We have a small armory here at the house, perhaps we have something
close to what you seek."

If you wish, but, I do not want to take you away from the celebration."

"If I will be overly long, I will send you word," Lord Marquet assures
you.  "I also will be up very early on the morrow.  One can sleep when
one lies on his final bed."  Lord Marquet bows solemnly and then turns
towards the disturbance.

Dunz bows.

"Dalin finishes his wine and stands , "I can't take this anymore, I am
returning  to my quarters for a long rest." Dalin averts his eyes to
Darrin then turns his head towards Faron with a look of disapproval." He
then walks towards Dunz , "Hold up Dunz I'm going bed as well"

Lord Marquet intercepts the warrior as he acknowledges Dalin's call and
briefly has a conversation before he arrives. He bows his head slightly as
he leaves and turns to greet the elf with a hearty slap on the shoulder as
they head down the hallway. "My friend. Are you just eager to be
adventuring again or do you have eyes for the bard?"<>

Dalin's face takes on a look of shock at Dunz' acqusation ," No dear
friend, I simply do not want to see Darrin hurt by this situation. I must
say quite honestly I do not even fully understand it myself. Is there
anything that you know of that went on between Fyn and Faron? I will not
let Darrin get hurt by him."

"My apologies Dalin. I am not yet as experienced as some in these matters.
Perhaps Faron is the one who is smitten? ... By the way, Lord Marquet has
offered his help in finding an adventure if we form our own company. Sound
good to you?"

Dalin smiles at Dunz ,"I'd be quite interested. Sitting in this mansion
is already starting to get to me. Tell Lord Marquet that I'm up for it."

As you come up to your rooms, Ross catches up to you, saying softly, "I
have a few minutes, Dunz.  Dalin, right?  Why have you left the party 
so early.  The celebration has barely begun."

"Fine milord. I was just discussing forming a company with Dalin and I have
my first recruit! Mind if he joins us while we discuss that weapon?"

"Of course, he can attend," Ross says as he quickly turns back towards the 
stairwell, this time leading you down past the main floor.

Dalin looks at Ross and sighs ,"I'm not in a celebrating mood. I hope you
can understand. I just want to meditate in my room for a while. Please
give everyone my deepest apologies."   

Ross leads you downstairs into a well lit basement.  There's a large
area with target dummies at one end, and the floor is filled with soft
sand.  Along the walls are numerous closets.  Ross goes directly to
one such double door and opens both exposing a wall with several different
crossbows hanging from pegs hammered into the wall.

"What is it you seek warrior?" he says easily pulling down the heavy
crossbow and pulling the sting back to lock in place with hardly an
effort he plucks a quarrel that lies amongst several on the ground.

He holds the bow towards Dunz.

I assume Dunz has seen and probably fired a regular heavy crossbow in his
initial training per his history? So he will take the offered crossbow, get
a feel of it, study its craftmanship, then raise it up and fire at a target
dummy.

Then, (without retyping it all again since you know what I am looking for -
I assume?) if this is not a strength-enhanced crossbow (try a few more even
if it is), look for one remarking about something with a little more sting
and lock and load and proceed as above. And compliment him on any well made
weapons I see as we talk.

When we find one to my liking, I will inquire about the cost of buying it
from him if he can part with it (and a quarrel of matching bolts).

Since he may have an ulterior motive, if he offers it to me for no cost, I
will be gratefully appreciative, but respectfully attempt to decline and
strike up a new bargain. The bottom line here, warrior to warrior, will be
what does the Lord expect from me if I end up accepting it? Why is he
taking such an interest in a young, inexperienced, but promising, paladin?
(Something like that.) But remember, Dunz is his own man!

Once you try a couple, Ross takes a small key and opens a second door...
"Here," he points out a real beauty.  Dunz can immediately feel the difference
when he goes to draw back the string.  "It's a little out of my strength to use.  
But I try..." Ross smiles.  He watches as Dunz is able to use it and then says,
"I can have one made for you.  It will take a couple of days."

"Cost... How much do you have?  Fine craftsmanship and an excellent weapon...
added bonuses call for a wizard to cast a few spells during the making...
the bolts alone are a silver a piece.  More extreme bolts... magical in
nature are of course more."

"2500 gold and that's with a discount for your valiant effort thrown in.
No strings attached... I know you will prove to be an ally in hard times
to come," Ross finishes by sticking his hand out to shake on the deal.

The warrior is indeed impressed with the weapon and almost lovingly admires
it. A very observant person would note disappointment begining to cloud his
expression as he listens to Ross tick off the details involved in its
construction. An almost audible gulp as he finally remembers to breathe and
swallow again as he sights the outstretched hand.

"M'lord, I am afraid that I am wasting your time." he begins as he places
the crossbow in his hands. "I have nowhere near that amount of money nor
know where or how long it would take me to earn that much. I must seem a
fool for not first doing some research into the construction of such a
weapon before bothering someone such as yourself. I should check out places
in town and inquire about making a simple heavy-strengthed crossbow
(without the magic). My apologies. If you will excuse me now, I will return
to my room (for a hot bath) and you can rejoin the celebration." 

Ross grins softly and says, "My arms maker is very gifted.  And he is always
here should you require a bow like that.  And I do not mind the time spent
in a pasttime that I very much enjoy.  I am fortunate that the Mighty Tempus
even allows me the use of such a weapon.  Think nothing of it.  I have enjoyed
our time together, Dunz."

"With your permission, I will pay him a visit tomorrow." 

"Of course... He can give you some different options perhaps.  But you
tell him that I will have the final say on product and price," Ross
adds quickly.

I nod.

(Since we are walking the same way) "Uh. I was wondering what joining your
mercenaries would entail for me personally, our group, and adventuring in
general?"

"I tend to lend my aid to people in great need, quelling uprisings in
the North, to small border skirmishes if nothing better presents itself.
Sometimes the Lords of Waterdeep present me with problems closer to home.
Problems with the Zhentarim or other matters of safety and wellbeing
to the Lords Alliance.  Also, if you were to hear of opportunities, I
am always open to suggestions... I find that family and friends of my
people will often present intrigues that would otherwise go unnoticed."

"In regards to wealth and spoils, that varies per job.  Some jobs I
take on for free... so right I feel the cause.  If anyone does not wish
to campaign in a certain area, they are free to take on other assignments."

"I understand. Let me speak plainly. I have no desire to be in an army. I
do not look for special treatment nor would I shy away from an inherently
dangerous situation. I am not interested in personal wealth, but wealth
needs to be attained in order to achieve personal goals, as well as my
safety along the way. Would this be allowed if I work for you?"

Ross walks at a steady pace back towards the stairs, smiling to himself.

"If you have no use for border skirmishes, I quite agree.  For a mercenary
however, these are what brings income so that all may continue existence,
especially throughout the winter.  And small wars do not tend to bring
great heroism, not that anyone would notice is someone did merit outstanding
attention."

"No, I understand what you seek.  Adventure... I can certainly understand
formerly being more of an adventurer myself.  There lies recognition
amongst a smaller force... a force to be reckoned with, like you and
your friends.  I can support such a force," Ross assures Dunz.

"I would fight in a 'border' skirmish if it was the 'right' thing to do...
it just depends on the situation. A dispute over land between two nobles
does not seem to me a justifiable reason to risk my life. There are ways
of settling that kind of a dispute other than swords.  I guess you
would be getting a 'mercenary' with a righteous desire to do good along the
way."

"After the wedding festivities, point me the right direction, milord."

"It will be my pleasure," Ross says with a smile.  He takes his leave
of Dunz at the stairs.  "I must attend a the party... the host never
goes to bed early," he says with a grin.
-------
Darrin makes his way through the press of people, Faron at his side
guiding him towards your small group, and away from the press of other
people.  Darrin is just finished saying something to Ross's aide, though
you can't tell what it is, but he can't seem to stop grinning in
his happiest moment.

Faron turns to him and cocking his head to one side, nods, "You always
have.  So sit here, with your friends, eat heartily, and don't get too
drunk.  You'll be busy tomorrow, Darrin.  I have to show you the eastern
compound where we train outside of Waterdeep, though we've mostly been
busy all winter cleaning it up.  And we have to do it early, because 
the wedding preparations are tomorrow as well, and then at noon the next
day, your cousin weds.  And then there will only be one extremely beautiful
woman to fight for in all of Waterdeep," he adds with a nod to Fynvola.

Darrin's lips purse tightly, and standing bolt upright, his chair falling
to the uncarpeted floor, his hand going to the dagger's hilt on his
belt, says quickly, "That's enough, Faron.  You've been making advances to 
Fynvola since you met her, Dalin told me what you've been saying to her.  
Back off, Faron, before... I get angry," he says, a slight tremor in his voice.

"You are already angry, my friend, I know the look in your eye.  But my
attention to the lovely bard, only means that you have chosen well, Darrin,"
Faron says with a small bob of his head to Darrin.  "Do not spoil 'Your'
night by doing that which will make thee look a fool.  You know better
than to challenge me in this hall."  Faron's words seem to make Darrin
take a step back, and he pales visibly in the torchlit hall.  It seems
that Darrin was considering that very thing.

Fynvola's face pales noticably and with a helpless look in Zan and
Tag's direction she stands and places herself between the two men.
Very quietly, with tears clear in her troubled eyes she pleads
quietly, "Please...stop this!!  I am not a trophy to be fought for at
a faire!  If you can't recognize me as being a person with feelings
and interests of my own, I will simply leave Waterdeep and find my
destiny elsewhere!

"Darrin, congratulations in your new position!  I know you will be
very busy for a time, but you are in my heart and I promise we will
find time to steal for ourselves,  I have much preparation to do for
the wedding and I am sure Tag, Zan, Zeptha and Faron will ensure I am
occupied while you are working...and I understand Waterdeep has many
shoppes and bards to keep a lass busy too.  Please...let us rest and
celebrate tonight and not bicker..."

At Darrin's outburst, Zantorax stands, electricity playing between his eyes
and small jets of flame emerging from his hands. "Darrin, my friend, please
do not spoil this eve. Of us all I know Fyn's heart better than any, except
Fyn herself. You have nothing to fear, I assure you. Now, please sit and we
shall all be merry." The words, though fierce, seem almost... overdone with
all the flames, electricity and smoke being generated by the large mage.
Finishing his speach, Zantorax reaches towards Fynvola, harmless lightning
zapping her (It's flashy, but it only tickles). A wide grin breaks across
Zant's face. "Darrin, I have to speak with Fyn after we are done here, but I
would be honoured if I might talk with you when I have finnished speaking
with Fynvola."

The outburst from Fyn and Zan turns both Darrin and Faron towards them, a 
smile on Faron's face and a nod of his head in acknowldgement to them both,
while Darrin looks only at Fyn as if he's a fish out of water, his mouth 
gaping wide, and his head weaving back and forth like a fishes emerald 
scaled tail.

"Perhaps I should'nt have accepted Ross's offer, Fyn... I'll get him
to reconsider," Darrin begins.

But it is Ross himself who interrupts Darrin and says quickly, "No... I
will not reconsider.  Let us talk, and Faron... give him no more grief
his first night, you will make his life miserable enough tomorrow
when you test his skill."

Faron smiles and says to Darrin as he is herded a few feet away, "I mean
nothing against you lad.  I am sorry to have caused such trouble," he
adds turning to Fynvola.  "He will have a better night if I depart.  I
have enjoyed your company this evening and will find time in both our
busy schedules to tour you our great city, hopefully on the morrow.  Adieu,"
Faron says with a low bow, the top of his head almost touching the floor,
his hands spread wide in flourish.

As Faron leaves, you can hear Ross's words to Darrin filter your way.  "What
is a little competition.  If you lose her, than it was not meant to be, but
if you win her... then your love is true, Darrin.  Look how long I have
waited for Zeptha, lad.  And if you can beat out Faron-du-lac, then you
will have won out any other competition in the world, for your lady's love."

Tag whispers softly to Fynvola, "They are two extreme opposites, my friend."
Tag touches his young friend's shoulders and feeling a few knots, he gently
pushes her into a chair and begins kneading her shoulders gently.  "It
is my turn to repay your kindness," he says before she can protest.

Darrin wanders back to the table, head ducked sheepishly, not even aware
that his new employer's words were even heard.  "I'm sorry, Fyn," he says
softly and then quickly to Zan, he adds, "Thank you.  I'd love to talk
later, my friend."  He sits, shoulders sagged, drained by the long day,
the incredible elation of dreams come true, and a sudden cold, empty feeling
in his gut.

Tag's eyes twinkling, says so softly, his words carry under the other
sounds in the hall, "You are lucky, Darrin.  I have not entered your
little competition."  Tag tries to laugh, but the crushed look on Darrin's 
face, makes him quickly say, "I am just joking, Darrin, you know this."

"I thought Faron was joking, too," Darrin says bitterness sour in his mouth.

Fynvola sighs and places her hand over Tags to stay it.  She stands
and turns to look into Tags eyes with a grateful smile, "Thank-you
Tag, you will spoil me at this rate!  Tomorrow will be a busy one,
but I should like to have tea with you if you have the time?"

"I have nothing to attend to on my schedule, Ms. Quain," he says
highlighting the title he calls you by.  You feel his hand grip
yours swiftly in gratitude for your words.

"I  look forward to it!  I am uncertain when Zeptha needs me so I
will have to get word to you when I am free...sorry .  The wedding comes first, of course."

She then looks at Zantorax and smiles apologetically, "Zan, I
promised I would speak to you, and I will, but Darrin will need an
early night tonight and I would like a few words with him also.  If
Darrin agrees, I would like to kidnap him briefly  and then you may speak with him when we return to the
celebration, okay Zan?" her eyes take on a pleading look...

Secure in Zan's  answer, Fynvola asks Darrin, "Would you take a brief
walk with me...I saw some lovely gardens below...just for a short
time, I don't want us to miss all the celebration..."

Darrin fumbles to his feet, offering you his arm up from your chair.
"I am at your service, Milady," Darrin says swiftly, hope bringing
some color back to his cheeks and a gleam to the emerald eyes. 

Fynvola smiles and shakes her head ever so slightly at his reaction.
She walks with him past the Duke and his lady, smiling to the other
couple with a slight curtsey and a quiet, "We wont be long"

Zeptha grins at you, and Ross bows in return, a twinkle in his midnight
blue eyes.
---------
Zantorax says nothing to Fyn's question. She already knows the answer. With
only he and Tag remaining, the large wizard turns to the dark elf. "Well, my
friend, have you conciderred what you will do now that Darrin has join a new
company? I had hoped to find further employ with him, but now it seems my
options must once again be conciderred. Any suggestions or inside
information? I know you wished to keep what you will be doing a secret
but...." Zant trails off, as though saying that knowing what Tag was doing
would be of help to him... without really saying it.

"Interesting... you and your betrothed," he grins at the word, "think along
similar lines.  She had just gotten done asking me.  Ross has asked me to
join him as well, but I told him, I must consider.  I would be surprised
if he did not ask your group as well, or make other arrangements for your
band.  I noted already that he spoke to Dunz Kann, before he left the
room."  Tag smiles, but his eyes are on Fynvola and his young friend
as they leave the room.  "No good, will come of this, I fear," he adds.
"She is truly something, and now she has an idea of her great beauty,
thanks to Faron's interest.  Thank you, Zantorax, for stepping in to help
avoid trouble.  I fear a great change is come, though, to our merry little
band."

As you sit and ponder what the young couple is discussing out back, Ross
leaves Zeptha's side and comes to take a seat next to Zantorax.  "Did
I overhear Tag ruining my surprise?" Ross laughs with a warm, wide grin.
"Tag tells me you are a gifted young mage, Zantorax.  I have already
spoken with Dunz Kann and Shiro, your mates and offered them a place
within my adventuring-mercenary company.  I also have offered to sponsor
your group, whichever would be best for all of you, perhaps point out
some lucrative jobs that would go to otherwise better known companies.
I don't expect an answer until after my wedding of course.  So there
is time for you and your friends to consider."

  The large mage turns towards Ross pensively. A few moments pass before
Zantorax replies. "My lord, I will have to concider your offer. I hope to
know after your wedding tomorrow. There will be a celebration afterwards, I
assume. I hope to be able to give you an answer then. One of my main
concerns right now, however, is finding an instructor so that I may further
my knowledge of the magical arts. Should I join your group, will I have
access to an instructor, or will I still have to find one for myself?"
Zant's question seems like the sort that will not make up his mind, just aid
in the process.

"I have instructors for most combat styles.  I'd be glad to speak
to you about your exact needs in style," Ross replies with a grin.
"Whatever happens, I would make my people available to all of you."
-----------
Shiro watches with disinterest knowing that something important is going on.
But his spirit soon grows restless and he slips from the hall without trying
to disrupt the feast. Looking for the closet guard, he spots one near the
entryway and approaches.
"Dozo, excuse gaijin-san. But where training ground in such beautiful home?"
he asks with a smile. After the guard gives directions Shiro heads in that
direction after retrieving Katana and wakizashi from his room. He enters the
hall in practice gear and begins his regular calisthentics exercises to warm
up. He follows this up with some kata forms of breathing exercises and then
the actual kata forms themselves. Completing these he sits to meditate upon
nothingness seeking the Void. That which must be accepted for a warrior to
exceed all that he is, the way of enlightenment. The katana blade suddenly
flashes with a swish of cutting air. Shiro's stance and body flow with the
power of the bear the quickness of the serpent and the nimbleness of the
feline. The wakizashi soon follows both weapons working as if one, but soon
part working in disjunction with seemingly no form or line. All soon comes
to an end as the blades are resheathed and the warrior sits to meditate once
again.

Much later, you are surprised to hear the door open behind you, so deep
in your meditation.  You hear Tag's voice call out softly, "Excuse me, 
Shiro-san.  One is here, who would speak with you for only a minute or
two.  Lord Marquet," Tag leaves off, as the other man comes into the room.

"Shiro-san," Ross Marquet says with a deep bow.  "I am honored to have
you staying in my house.  Tag has spoken of your great fighting abilities...
what he says has gone unnoticed by the others, is that you almost single
handedly enabled the other forces to succeed on their fronts.  I am
looking for men such as you, or even groups such as yours... I have informed
Dunz Kann of this, and while you have time to decide, I would be delighted
to have you join my adventurers."

"Arigato, Ross-san. I very much pleased to accept offer." Shiro has risen
to his feet and pays his humble respect to the lord of the manor. He bows
low as the man departs. As the door swings shut, Shiro smiles or so it would
seem if any were watching. Then he settles back into the lotus position and
closes his eyes letting himself sink back into the Void.

After your reply, Ross bows deeply, saying, "I will leave you to your workout,
Shiro-san.  Well met."
---------------
Fyn and Darrin in the garden...

When they make their way to the garden, Fyn is quiet but in the
garden she takes a deep breath of air and rests her head on Darrin's
shoulder as they walk.  She looks about for a bench or someplace to
sit before speaking

Darrin gnaws on his lower lip, and he can't seem to stop from
trembling, fear gnawing at his insides.  Darrin, shakily, puts
his arm around her, and having been in the garden before, he leads
the way confidently even with not much light, nor even a half moon
to see by.  Near a sculpture of a leather clad warrior woman, there
sits a marble bench underneath a bower of twigs, erected to keep
prying eyes from the lover's nest.  Darrin continues to stand
after Fynvola sits.

"Darrin, so much has happened between us and to us in such a very
short time, hasn't it?  You haven't forgotten our
talks on the trail, have you?  Or the nights I slept in your arms
?  I meant every word I said to you... even
now just looking at you makes me catch my breath!  And I am
fair certain I could quite easily fall in love with you quite
hopelessly, Darrin.   And you said you had
done nothing for me to sing about...yet how can one not sing about
their first love?

Darrin stands nodding at her words, but his brows close together in
confusion at her continued words.

 Having
said so, though, we are both young and a lot has happened between us
under extreme circumstances!   I want to be very sure that what we
feel is real...not puppy love or calves love as my mother calls it.
I want to take the time to get to know each other and ourselves
better.  Please understand me...I would never hurt you for... not for
all the world would I...but I feel we both need some space to
explore this relationship and ourselves.

The color drains from Darrin's cheeks and his mouth opens to say
something, but not a sound emerges.

I will be with Zeptha a lot until the wedding and you will be busy
with your training but I hope we can spend your free time
together...if you would like to?  While you train I will see the city
and sew and write music. A-and  I will allow Faron to take me into
the city, Darrin, but I don't want you to worry, okay?  Trust in the
fates...they brought us together first didn't they?  Things will be
as they should be.  I don't want this time marred with bitter
feelings and words.  You know how much I care, don't you?  

"I... I don't understand, Fyn.  You're not my first love, you're my...
only love," he says turning his back, though you can tell from the
swiping gesture, that he brushes tears from his eyes.  His shoulders
are bunched in knots, and he takes several deep breaths, clearly
audible in the night air.  Without turning around, Darrin says softly,
"I guess I'm not the educated man that Faron is, so I guess, I do
understand, why... why you would choose him over me.  What I don't
understand is, why you'd still want to spend time with me.  But,
if that's what you want... I'll have some time, I'm sure, Fyn.  I have
to go... uh, now... just take the right forks, that'll get you back
to the house, to the hall where Zan is."  He stumbles as he starts to
continue along the path, away from the house.  He regains his balance
quickly and heads down the pathway.

Fynvola waits only the length of a heartbeat, confusion etched on her
face, before running after Darrin and tackling him to te ground,
rolling on top of him.

Darrin lands hard with an audible, "Oof," tears streaming down his
cheeks under his fingers.

Her voice is filled with confusion as she draws his hands away from his face, 
her eyes filled with hurt and some anger, "What in blue blazes are you doing 
Darrin?! Are you under the influence of some spell? I thought we were close...

"Your spell," he coughs out.  "From the second I saw you."

I don't understand where all of this is coming from!  For the love of Trishina, Darrin, please
don't ever hide from me!  I can't bear it..." she rolls off Darrin,
sitting in the grass with her knees drawn up to her chin and her arms
hugging them.  Her eyes are bright with tears.  "The whole reason I
asked you to come out to the garden was because I want to be near
you...I want things right between us...I want you to know that I
can't help but love you, but I have to take the time to be sure that
we will feel this way in the morning...a week from now.  I don't want you to wake up one morning and regret that you
chose me..."

"It's not like I've done this before, Fyn," he says trying to wipe
his eyes, knowing that he's not helping.  "I just thought everything
was perfect.  You were my strength, Fyn, the only reason that I kept
living when... when I saw Yronry.  I didn't think there would be
any others... Tag kidded me right before the battle that, I had competition
but I thought he was joking.  Instead, I have more competition than
I can match up to.  Faron is everything a great bard like you would love."



He gulps back the rest of his tears, and averts his eyes, not able
to watch you in such pain and sadness.  "I just thought... I'd go,
and then you can..., Ross said, I should back off, if that's what you
wanted.

Fyn looks into Darrin's eyes as best she can with his trying to avert
his gaze and moves very close to him.  She takes his face into her
hands and turns it towards her and kisses him very gently upon the
lips, once then again.

He shivers at your touch, fighting just a touch as you go to raise
his face, he pulls back as you move to kiss him, but then the second
kiss, he is drawing near, only to restrain himself when you pull away.

She leans back to look into his eyes again and replies in a whisper, 
"Darrin, my dear heart Darrin!  You think so little of me...that I 
would lose my heart to one solely on the basis of his age or the 
history he's experienced in life?!  Because he's woo'd enough ladies 
to know the words to fluster a young bard?!  That hurts, Darrin!  And 
you would walk away without so much as an askance as to what I might 
need or want?"

"No...no," he says, still trembling from your nearness.  "I think
the world of you, Fyn.  I thought... I thought you wanted me to go.
Tag always says, I shouldn't think too much," Darrin musters a small
grin, a small spark of life coming back to his face and eyes.

She looks at him fiercely but suddenly smiles, though tears still
shine unshed in her eyes.  She continues, "Listen, for just a moment,
to my words.  Listen with your head, not your heart and your pride.
My heart is already more yours than mine own and none could bear the
pride for another human being that I have for you.  I meant exactly
what I said when I said I am already halfways to lost in love with
you.  I am sorry if you are offended that you are my first
love...and too it is my hope you will be my last, but I cannot take
the chance that impetuousness will bring together what only honour
will keep together in the future!  I want my children to be born into
love as I was not honour as many of my friends have done.  Don't you
understand that I do this for -=us=- not for Faron or Zan or Tag or
even the Duke?!  If I am your true love, certainly waiting for a time
wont change anything?!

 Everyone says girls are given over to flights of romantic
fancy as they approach womanhood and I am trying so hard to prove
that I am not doing so, that I am responsible enough to take the time
to prove my love is true.  Please don't cast me aside for this,
Darrin....please?!"

She leans her head into Darrin's shoulder at her last words, holding
on as if afraid it will be her last caress...she holds her breath as
she awaits an answer...

Darrin's hand shakes as he places it around your shoulder, trying to
comfort you, with what strength he still has to give.  "I'm sorry.
I think... thinking again," he's actually able to chuckle and after
a deep breath, he continues softly, "I didn't mean that I was leaving.
Just backing off, and letting you have the space you wanted.  If that's
what you want... if you think there's a chance you'll still love me,
than I can do it.  I can be strong for you... I just didn't want you
to see me cry, Fyn.  I knew it would make it harder for you.  I guess
I want to know it's true too.  This feeling I get when I'm near you
makes me stop thinking altogether, Fyn."  Hesitantly and so briefly,
his lips touch your forehead above your eye, and then with a wider
grin, he cranes his neck a little and his lips softly brush the tip
of your nose, his free hand gently brushing your hair back so that
he can see you better, murmering, "Faron is right though, you are the
most beautiful woman in the world."

Fynvola laughs with mirth, though the tears held back slide down her
cheek unchecked, and kisses Darrin full on the lips.  Relief,
happiness and affection are given in that kiss and after long moments
she almost regretfully pulls back to look at him fully with a warm
smile and the faint hint of a blush about her.

Darrin stays back, his eyes lit with an inner fire, and he smiles
back at you, though he looks like he'd enjoy another such kiss.

"Darrin...you need never hide anything from me...not good nor ill.  I
am as real and as fierce a person as you are and want to share in
your life not spectate in it!  And if you fool men to stop with the
flattery, I am going to have a head as swelled as Waterdeep!!"

She kisses him again then and rests her head into his shoulder again
with a contented sigh, cherrishing his warmth.

This last kiss seems not so awkward as the first few shared over
the road, and Darrin sighs contentedly holding you close.

"So tell me...what exactly does this new position in Lord Ross's
brotherhood mean for you?" she changes the subject so she can listen
to the timbre of his voice for a while.

"Well, a job," he laughs out.  "It means hardwork, and hopefully I'll
be something more than just a soldier.  But I'll work for it... I mean
Aide to Ross sounds pretty good, but I can't expect him to just hand
it to me."  His grin gets even wider as he gazes down at you. 

Darrin continues, "And look, I'm honest enough to admit that it was Tag and
Dunz that made the plans enabling us to defeat those orcs.  I just
did my best to keep some orcs busy while Zan cast his spells.  I'm
a good fighter... look at who's trained me, Tag, Varn and Maeg, and
I'm not scared of anything," he says, but his voice catches and brushing
his lips gently on your brow, he whispers, "Except afraid of how I feel
about you.  I don't want to do anything wrong that would lose you."

Fynvola looks up at him with a smile, a feigned sharpness in
her tone, "Darrin! Don't let's start that all over again...once is
quite enough!" she softens her voice and continues, "You can't do
anything `wrong' to lose me...unless you make assumptions about what
you think I think!" she pauses, puzzling through what she said and
laughs.."that even made sense!" she chuckles.

He draws a deep breath and says softly, "I'm even afraid of being near
you.  I mean, not in a bad way," he adds quickly.  "The other night...
when we kissed, I gave you that massage, because I was scared, Fyn.  I
guess that's what you've been trying to say, about us going so fast,
and neither one of us has been down this path before.  Tag would say,
we're bound to find a pitfall or something, but I wasn't thinking, was I?"

"Can we agree that we mean a lot to eachother...that we both
think we might well be in love...and we will explore that path over
the next few weeks and make sure it's what we think it is?  Then we
both know where we stand and wont be too edgy at being out of
eachother's sight? 

His body tenses even more as he speaks, but at least now there are no
tears in his eyes, and he holds you against his body as though you were
the most precious person in the universe.

Fyn stretches up and kisses Darrin again...long and sweet...but not
letting it get overpassionate.  "Now do you think you can relax a
little?  If you were any more tense I would fear you thought I was an
orc..." and finally her eyes twinkle with the merriment they are
accustomed to.

He grins, breathless, he sighs, "You are much more dangerous than any
orc, my Fynvola Quain.  I think even Faron would have to say that,"
he adds and he actually says Faron's name with no dread attached to it.
"I'm sorry, Fyn... no, uhm... I mean I am sorry for my behavior,
but let's see... did you really give Tag a massage?"

Fynvola looks very puzzled and pulls back a bit to look up Darrin
fully. "Yes, I gave Tag a massage, and he has given me one...where's
the harm in that? Tag knows how I feel for him and he knows, better
than you apparantly, how I feel for you!" she replies defensively
...confusion clear in her face and voice.

"No, It's not what you think," Darrin says quickly, trying to pull
you close to him again.  "It's just, that, well, Tag, never really
talks to women, or goes near them, even.  Not even drow women.  I
just never thought, he'd let a woman touch him, or get close to him.
I didn't mean... I guess, I just thought he was joking with me, but
then, I saw him tonight touching you, and I figured that he wasn't
kidding with me.  I think it's great the two of you like each other.
I'd really be in trouble if the two of you didn't like each other."

Fynvola sighs with relief and smiles brightly.  "He is very happy to
see you so happy...perhaps that is why he let his guard down a bit."
she replies quietly.

Darrin sighs and says, "Did you know that Ross could really help you guys out.  
I think he means to speak to all of you about it.  He could hire you as a group 
even, and like sub-contract work to you guys... or he would hire you.  He's 
very respected in his field, and some... some people say he's one of the
Lords of Waterdeep, though I'm not really so sure about that."

Fynvola's voice lightens again and her eyes dance with mischief as
she replies, "Trying to get rid of me already, are you? I
don't know what the group or I will be doing.  I don't think Dalin
and Dunz much care for travelling with a certain bard 
but I think Zan and I will work together for a time yet...especially
if Tag will join us.  Zan bears much respect for our friend Tag...as
of course do I.  I wonder what the others will do if the group splits
up?   You aren't nervous of me working with Zan, are you?
I know we were betrothed, but he is more brother to me.  Or Tag? He
was but teasing you..." 

Darrin shakes his head, his hair falling a little into his eyes, as he
whispers, "Zan knows how I feel about you.  He told me a little about
you and how you left home.  And Tag's my friend, if I thought that
he was in love with you...," his look darkens, but then he forces a
smile, and says, "I mean, I always wanted to see Tag with someone.
I've always thought he was kind of lonely.  But then... I've never
felt like this way about anyone, and so maybe I couldn't give you up,
though his happiness is really important to me."

Fynvola growls in a most unladylike manner and rolls her eyes. "IF
YOU GUYS DON'T STOP TREATING ME LIKE A MEATY BONE AMIDST A PACK OF
WOLVES...I am going to turn you all into poodles...if it takes me
every coin I ever make in this lifetime!!!!!" she mutters with
genuine frustration, though her eyes remain playful.

"What can you expect, when you're the most beautiful, most understanding,
most spectacular woman in the world," Darrin says casually before changing 
the subject.
  
"It's kind of funny... I never realized how well I know him, and I
knew him before he met Zeptha.  Dad and I would bring wagons to
Waterdeep, and since I was little, I can remember coming and staying
at this house for a week while we were in town.  I've been wondering
about that lately... especially since, he started seeing Zeptha.  It
seemed like so much coincidence, everyone I cared about actually
being in the same city... and now you're here, too," he adds a twinkle
in his eyes.

Fynvola chuckles again, "And you wonder why I tell you to have faith
in the Fates!?  I sometimes think our lives are mapped out long
before we know of it and we are left only to choose which Fate is our
guide !  I want to learn more about
your growing up...it sounds as though you had some marvelous times!
But I think we should soon head back to the feast...when we are sure
we are both reading the same program .  Zan
would like to talk to you too, and you should get a good sleep before
your training begins tomorrow......and I am famished..."

"You didn't eat anything yet," he scolds you.  "Ross never sets out
anything but the greatest banquets.  Here," he says rising to his feet
and holding his arm out to help you up.  "I am always here for you, Fyn.
I'm not going anywhere, and in fact, I think I'll have more pull to
spend time with you than my competition desires.  I have much to learn
about you as well.  So let's talk to your other betrothed," he says
with an ear-to-ear grin, "eat something, and then a comfortable bed
for a change."

Fynvola looks at Darrin with a look of shocked innocence and
whispers, "But Darrin...I thought you would need to -=sleep=-
tonight..."

"Huh," Darrin says at first, and then his eyes go wide and he turns
bright red.  "No... no," he sputters, "I didn't mean... I mean...Oh,
Fyn, I... I don't think I'm ready.  What if I did something wrong?
I meant sleep.  I really did," he adds.

Fynvola looks at the consternation in Darrin's face and bursts out in
laughter, warm and musical.  She looks up at him and replies with
laughter in her voice, "I know, dearest!  I was only trying for a
reaction...which I received in spades!  Forgive me, dearest..."

His breath exhales and he laughs out, "You... got me.  I wasn't ready
for that, Fyn."  He grins widely, knowing he's been a gullible fool.
"Glad you found it funny... I guess it was though," he says his heart 
still racing.

She walks with her hand tucked into his arm as they return to the
hall, her smile bright and relaxed.

Darrin guides her unerringly to the house, and in through the doors
to where Tag and Zantorax are sitting with Ross.  Ross has just
finished saying something and he stands and bows low, greeting her
and Darrin with a smile.

As Ross finishes his offer, Fynvola and Darrin return arm in arm
from the garden, both grinning happily.

Tag looks up peers closely, and then a wisp of a smile crosses his features. 
 
Ross stands and bows in greeting as Tag murmers, "Amazing.  I
thought to go searching for my young friend, and instead he
stands before me happy as a bear, who finds a forest of honey
and no bees racing around his head."

Darrin grins at Zan and says, "Okay, Zan... it's your turn to get lectured..." 
he then ducks away from Fyn, knowing a slap might come his way.

Fynvola murmurs, "good thing you dodged, Darrin!" and her eyes are
bright with humour, "I'll talk to you later Zan..."

She sits by Tag and peers casually about the table for what food may
be present, blushing fiercly and placing her hands to her stomache as
her tummy growls.  She looks up at Tag and asks, "What did we miss,
Tag?"

"I'll get you something to eat, Fyn," Darrin grins and with a slight bow,
he heads towards the far door.

"Allow me to explain dear bard, as your young friend finds you a plate, or
perhaps makes one up for you himself, much to my cook's chagrin."  Ross 
continues softly, "Only an offer to either join my company, or that perhaps
I could help fund your own group.  I have spoken to Dunz and Shiro now as
well as to you."

As fast as Ross speaks, Darrin returns bearing a plate of cut fruits and vegetables
and a thin slice of prime rib, steeped in it's own juices.  His mouth is full
of something, and he gulps it down as he returns, a bit of juice dribbling
down his chin.  "Umm, Phineas outdid himself on the meat, Fyn.  If you want more,
I'll go get it."  He sets Fyn's plate down, and then wipes the corner of his
mouth.

"Thanks, Darrin...you are so sweet..." she smiles up at him with a
warm smile.
 
Ross continues, "You have time to decide of course, I'm certain that with as
busy as the next days will be, you and your friends can find time to discuss
this and see what your best option is."

Fynvola bows her head slightly to Ross and smiles, " Thank-you m'lord
for your generousity.  I shall endeavour to find time with my
companions after the wedding."

She takes a small piece of fruit up on her fork, into her mouth and
chews delicately.

She freezes, swallows quickly and pales considerably, looking up at
Ross and asking..."What of the wedding plans, m'lord?  I have no idea
what's going on or what is expected of me!" she looks panickstricken
in Zeptha's direction....

"My dear bard, please... those matters were already well in hand and
were only postponed to await your return," Ross grins.

Zeptha hurries over, hearing Fyn's words and says, "All we need do
is get you all to the tailor in the morning, and he will do the
rest.  Something new for all of you... and Darrin that includes you
as well."

"But, I have to go with Faron in the morning," Darrin begs off.  "It's
really important, Zep."

"It's not more important than looking good at my wedding," Zeptha scolds
him, and Darrin looks to Ross for support.

"Darrin is not a difficult fit, but be sure to check with him in the
afternoon, lad," Ross tells him, and Darrin nods, though he still looks
less than thrilled with the idea.  "And you need to get some rest, Darrin,
Faron will have you up in just a couple of hours," Ross reminds him

"Yes, sir," Darrin says with a heavy sigh.  He comes around to face
Fynvola and with a deep bow, he softly touches his lips to the back
of her hand.  "On the morrow, dear bard," he grins and then with
a glance at Zantorax he nods his way and begins to walk slowly towards
the door.

Fynvola smiles distractedly at the exchange between Darrin and
Zeptha...clearly amused. and she smiles warm and sweet to Darrin as
he bids her good night.
 
  Zantorax nods back to Darrin, his mind apparently racing with thoughts of
what path is life will now take. "Well, Fyn, I guess we can talk here, since
what I need to discuss with you is by no means something that needs be kept
secret. Besides, I value Ross and Tag's input. The matter which I wish to
discuss with you is that of where we go from here. As I see it, we can go
off in our seperate directions, continue together, or join Ross's company.
What do you figure. Oh yeah, Tag, I would greatly appreciate your input,
since I would be honoured if we might stick together. I have great respect
for your combat abilities and the clairity of your thought. Of the company
we travelled here with, only you, Darrin, Maeg, and Varn would I wish to
travel with further."

Fynvola looks mortified and turns to Zan with wounded eyes
"Well, thank-you kindly, betrothed!  I didn't realize I was beneath
your standards of companionship as well as marriage!"

Tag smiles gently at the bard and says, "I believe your...betrothed
was including you."

Fynvola smiles and winks.

Tag leans back in his chair and nods slowly as Ross looks on. 

Ross says softly, "Perhaps, I should leave this discussion to the
three of you.  Zeptha, some more champagne, light of my eyes."

"Of course... though, I would stay and hear my friend's plans."

"I'll be right back with a ..." Ross trails off.

"Why don't you go speak with Darrin, Milord Marquet," Tag interrupts simply,
not looking away from Zantorax.  "It is long past time that you told him,"
Tag continues as Ross begins to stand.

"I made a promise, Tag."

"To a man dead now," Tag whispers back to him, peering up into his
eyes.  "It is a promise that I made as well, but the responsibility
is yours.  What better time will there be?"

Fynvola's colour fades again at the exchange between the men and her
eyes darken with worry when Ross leaves.  She looks from Zeptha to
Tag, scrutinizing...trying to ferret for herself what the promise
may be.

Tag's eyes are for Ross only, and Zeptha sits with eyes wide and
confusion on her face.

Zeptha looks worriedly on, but Ross merely nods in Tag's direction
and turns on his heel, leaving the area.  Tag sighs deeply, watching
Marquet's back.  Zeptha looks at Tag, questions in her eyes.

Tag nods slowly, but then says, "I can not say, Zeptha, what truths
we hold hidden, though it is a truth that has long burned in my heart.
But, come, Zantorax has asked me a question.  Ross would be a good
man to know and work for, and it would enable you to stay close to
Darrin... and myself, though I think the time has come for me to split
from Darrin.  It is time for him to have other mentors and other friends.
Though, he will always know where to find me."

Fynvola looks hurt...genuinely, unlike her play with Zan.  She turns
saucer eyes to Tag and whispers, "Tag...not yet, I beg of you.  He
needs you still, though I know you have devoted much to him and we
both owe you much."

"Neither of you owe me anything, Miss Quain," Tag says softly.  "And
there is a time when he must go onward... when he must grow up and
not have me to fall back on."

Fyn interjects with a soft but urgent voice, "I understand what you
are saying, Tag, truly I do.  And soon that time will come to
fruition, but right now he stands astride two cliffs. The first is
childhood and innocence and the other is manhood and the unknown, and
the bridge between them should be you and his family . Please Tag, trust a foolish slip of a girl
on this one...my instincts are strong on this count."  She tries a
smile but fails miserably.

"I do not mean that I will abandon him, Miss Quain, merely I will
let him stretch his wings a bit," Tag sighs softly.

She looks past Tag towards the departed Darrin and Ross then back to
Tag, her voice still low and full with every modicom of charm she
possesses, "I would never ask you to betray a trust, Tag, but he is
on such shakey ground now...much of it is my fault...will he be okay
after Ross' words? Should I go to him?" she pushes away the barely
touched plate, appetite forgotten, her eyes bright with growing
worried tears.

"I doubt that Ross will even tell him," sighs the dark elf.  "Did not
all go well with you and Darrin?  He looked fine to me, being with you.
I just worry, because I want nothing between the two of them."

" We have made a peace of sorts, but a tenuous one, for I did not offer my undying love as he hoped but
asked him to wait a short while to make sure we know what we are
doing.  He truly doesn't seem to
understand that I am trying to be wise...trying to prevent
I'mpetuousness..."

Tag nods in understanding.

Zeptha clears her throat and whispers softly, "Tag, you are talking
about my husband to be and my closest cousin.  Speak plainly, sir."

"Think of the coincidences," Tag whispers his eyes downcast.

"I've asked Ross about that.  How he has known Darrin since he was
but a child and then three years ago, he meets me and now we are to
be married," Zeptha says.

"And he answered?" Tag asks softly, not looking up yet.  "Let me tell
you the excuse.  Anders Miyar, father to Darrin and brother to Zorl 
Miyar, head of one of the most successful Merchant's Guilds was invited
here merely to cultivate good relations between Ross's interests and
The Merchant Leagues's interests.  Finally taking a trip to Baldur's
Gate to finally meet in person your father, you and he meet and now
you are to be married."

"You make it sound like a wedding of convenience," Zeptha says anger
rising in the color of her cheeks.

"No," Tag says simply.  "I have no doubt he loves you, Zeptha.  Ross
is not a man to wed for money or power or even for the sake of alliance.
Do you not know that every trip we made to Waterdeep, Anders and his son
spent their time here, in this house.  Darrin's room is not a guest room,
Zeptha, it is here and available to him whenever he comes.  Do you truly
believe that is common in this house, where political alliances are made
every week.  Fancy balls held in your father's house for important
guests are no larger than what goes on in this house.  Ross himself is
suspected of being a Lord of Waterdeep, and is a high ranking priest in
the church of Tempus, the War God.  The man talking to Ross now, by the
door is no one else than the High Sword of Tempus here in Waterdeep.  If
you walk into this, at least do so with your eyes open, unlike Darrin."
Tag sighs and then slowly rises.  "I'm sorry.  I've said too much.  I
personally can only stay for the wedding.  I can not stay to see Darrin
get hurt any further."

Fyn whispers quietly, "Tag...please wait...are you hinting at what I
think you are?!  Are you speaking of a secret held for just past 17
years old, Tag?  I know you love Darrin as if he were your brother,
sir...please...you don't want him hurt and neither do we!  If you
don't think Lord Ross will and you wont speak to him of it...let me!"

Fynvola begins to shake with the ferverance of her frustration and
wracks her brain to think of any tales she may have heard as they
travelled to prove or disprove the dark suspicions she bears...

"I am sorry to have upset, you," Tag says softly before bowing his head
and walking towards the door, with a grace noticed by several people in
the room, including Ross, who pauses in the conversation he is having
with a tall, stern man, wearing resplendent armor that gleams in the
hall's lights.

Zeptha places a hand on Fynvola's lap to stop her from saying anything
further or going after the dark elf.  "Sh... we have the start of a 
mystery, and we have the means to discover the truth, my dearest friend,"
whispers the bride to be.

After things settle down from the Drow's passage out the door, Zeptha says,
"This is no surprise to me.  I had wondered at Darrin and Ross's closeness.
I had no idea they had known each other for so long.  I thought only the
past couple of years since Ross and I had first met, Fyn.  But I am sure
that Ross means no harm to Darrin.  When I first told him of the danger you
all risked, Ross was stunned, staggered by the news.  He whispered, 'No, not
Darrin,' and then shook himself and was riding forth before the next hour
came.  At that point, I knew they were much closer than cousins in law to be.
But all who might know something had gone with Ross to your aid, and I only
waited for their return to see them together.  They seem very close, Fyn,"
she trails off.  

    Zantorax's face is calm, but the slight trickle of smoke curling from
his ears betrays his now surly mood. "Well, Fyn, I think that decides it for
me, and if I'm not mistaken you too. I'm going to join Ross' company and
stick close to Darrin. If he's gonna get hurt, I'm going to be right there
to make it that much more difficult for our mysterious antagonist. If I know
you as well as I think I do, Fyn, you've probably already made the same
decision. Have you not?" Zant's words come out as though he is only half
there. His mind seems deep in thought on other matters as well as the
conversation...

Fyn doesn't even look at her betrothed to reply, "It seems the fates
have intervened again, my friend...intervened again..."

"I am glad that I will have your help in this.  I want nothing between
Ross and I on our wedding day, or anytime in our lives together," Zeptha
adds softly.

Finally the party seems to be breaking up, though there are always a group
of people that will party till the dawn when you get a hundred mercenaries
together.  Ross comes over to collect Zeptha, holding out his hand to her,
which she takes as she says to both of you, "Thank you for a delightful 
evening.  Fyn I will see you early in the morning."

"Lord Nightwind, Madam Quain, it has been a pleasure.  I look forward
to having more time to speak with both of you..." he trails off.

As the evening gets along, Ross finally makes his way towards you.
You've noticed that he's made the rounds talking to most everyone
in your group.  Also for a little while, Fyn and Darrin disappeared
to the backyard,... kids.  But now you see that Darrin has gone
to bed and Fynvola is taking the time to talk to Zantorax, Tag and
the lovely Zeptha.

Ross murmers a greeting as he nods and says softly, "A moment of
your time, if you will.  You do Lathander justice and I feel that
you are going to have quite a career.  I have spoken to several
of your friends tonight and between offering them positions amongst
my band and offering to sponser your adventuring group as a whole,
I have now found time to make the same offer to thee.  Take your
time to answer and feel free to discuss it with your fellows, good
priest.  I am impressed with all of you and your incredible
accomplishment and wish to do what I can to help you make a name
for yourselves."


-------------
Map of Room

___________DD___________


     xix        xix 
     xix        xix 
    DaiT        xiJ
     ZiFy       xiDu
      iF        xiS
  ----i----------i----
  xxxxxxxxRexxxxxxxxxx
F= Faron      R=Ross
Da=Dalin      J=Jeremiah   
Fy=Fynvola    Du=Dunz
T=Tag         S=Shiro
Z=Zantorax    e=empty
x= one of Ross's merc's

    Source: geocities.com/timessquare/7343

               ( geocities.com/timessquare)