Conclave Crusade

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The Conclave’s camp is nestled in the ruins of a small city. Remains of thatched roofs, rotten timbers, and low stone walls offer plenty of hiding spaces and shadows to lie in wait for the sun to set. Canvas tents stretch across the dead city, providing temporary housing for the host of the Crusade. Quartermasters and members of the Inquisition guard the stockpiles; many crates and barrels of provisions were brought to supply the host and establish a good base of operations.

At night, torches, braziers, fire pits and candles are all situated such that they can’t be seen from outside the city, and no fire is large enough to cast large plumes of smoke. Fires are minimized to the innermost sections of the city on nights such as this, when the moonlight is bright enough to see clearly. The Inquisition patrols the camp, ensuring sound is kept no louder than relaxed speech. Lack of convenience is a small price to pay for safety; the earliest reports spoke of deformed monsters attracted to the lights and sounds of civilization, ghoulish and wretched creatures that would mass upon a man and devour him live. The camp has to be secure, so both food and freedom are rationed.

The camp is a good deal away from the landing area, further upland and upriver. Newcomers from the sea trickle in, more Conclave mages, Inquisitors of varying rank, hired mercenaries and affiliated civilians getting ready for the crusade to come. Barricades are set up at many broken cobblestone roads and intersections to provide a sense of protection, and underground tunnel networks are being dug out for storage, hiding, and traffic access to some of the harder-to-reach areas of the city. Some of the current bunkers are large enough to hold a decent amount of people and have been furnished in a Spartan fashion to serve as taverns, especially to keep the mercenaries’ morale and conviction up.

News, beyond that of the warped humans who abuse their magical power and transform into obscene creatures to feed on the living, is minimal, though gossip is strangely permitted by the Inquisition. Some say that prisoners have already been taken, providing needed information about the surrounding landscape and the enemy. Some say they have encountered one or more of the ‘grey ghouls’, speaking of their own strength in the face of such a frightening terror. Others point out that anyone from the camp that had seen one would have been questioned by the Conclave; the lack of such questioning and lack of a trophy speak volumes of the tales’ credibility. Stories of patrols being slaughtered or returning under half-strength are the only ones quickly hushed by the Inquisition, probably hurting morale more than helping.

The most popular word around the camp is that the Conclave will be sending most of the mercenaries on soon to a new camp that’s been established deeper into enemy territory. Most of the people are excited or at least happy with the news. It means that they might actually see civilization and fight the enemy instead of staring at the dead husks of forgotten cities and chasing at shadows.

[Ageofthewolf]

Nacatha set in her tent fiddling with a torn part of her dress she had been meaning to mend. Her tent was nestled into a corner away from most of the nearby tents, she sighed lightly as she let the fabric fall from her hand and she took thick blackened and charred leather gloves she wore off slowly before she placed them on her lap. She looked down at her burnt and damaged palms and fingers, it had been hard enough to gain entrance into the camp with her tattoos being plainly visible to everyone, she had even been questioned numerous times on why her tattoos were old and even one or two magi seemed to know they were magical in origin and purpose.

"I hope they don't rat me out...these Conclave people seem to not like magi that aren't part of their group." She sighed again before sliding the gloves back over her hands. "Going to need to find some new gloves soon to it seems.." She looked around the small tent for a moment ask if looking for something to do, she had been conflicted since she arrived in the camp. She wanted to be alone and away from the rowdy mercs and questioning looks from everyone, but she also didn't want to be trapped in the tent for the rest of her stay.

[CromTheConqueror]

Douvel Tout gazed distastefully at the band of mercenaries by the dimly lighted fire. Cracking crude jokes and drinking, they confirmed every national stereotype Douvel believed in.
"Such heinous humor", the Eadhaolin mage thought to himself as he stroked his long stylish mustache. A man of proper birth and upbringing, Douvel was the son of a minor nobleman from Krak de Monutem, and was used to living a life of modest comfort and status. He looked down on these brutish men –likely from the Sword States or even farther east- and judged them harshly. If it wasn't bad enough that they weren't nobility they couldn't even claim to be Eadhaolin! Douvel, not for the first time, cursed the Conclave, cursed this wretched land, and above all cursed himself for being powerless to change his circumstance.

A member of the Blazing Sons, he was a part of a small order devoted strictly to the servicing of the royal family. Usually out of the jurisdiction of the Conclave, Douvel was unfortunate to be party to the Blazing Sons during a time in which Eadhaolin had no royal family to serve. The last king having died with no clear line of succession. This left Douvel and limbo and at the mercy of the demands of the Conclave who were looking for recruits to send on their "crusade". Theoretically Douvel could have refused but the Conclave was extremely influential in his home country. Refusing this would have probably ended his stint as a member of the Blazing Sons and made him without a patron. The Conclave existed to indenture mages without the proper protection and as such Douvel would have likely ended up serving in the Crusade regardless. At least this way he had the opportunity of going back if he survived this thrice damned land. Stories were constantly circulating about the camp about parties of men who had ventured beyond the safety of the beachhead and be swallowed up by darkness and devoured by feral men. Douvel then gave an unconscious shiver and shook his head. He would not end up dead in this forsaken land! He refused to even entertain the notion.

Turning away from the mercenaries in disgust he made his way toward a nearby camp. He'd heard that a tattooed woman was present there and he was curious to confirm the rumors. He'd never seen a tattooed woman before. Approaching the flap of the tent he gave a loud cough and called out greeting.

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A large, balding, older man clothed in a sleeveless brown leather shirt and shorts with a scarred face and blind left eye sits in the shadow of an overhanging wooden ruin watching the newcomer approach the tent. He looks around for a moment, noticing mercenaries lounging about nearby in hushed discussion and watches a group of rough-looking passersby moving closer to the center of camp. He quietly spoons and drinks some lukewarm broth.

Another mercenary walks by, a skinny man with long and unkempt black hair wearing a tunic holstering a quiver and longbow, and the two share a brief look and nod before the skinny man walks past and sits down near a group of mercenaries and joins in on their idle conversation.

Inquisitor patrols and Conclave inspections were less frequent in areas like this, giving the men and few women present more freedom. He spooned some more broth when the newcomer coughed and spoke to the peculiar woman inside the tent. The man held the spoon still, watching the newcomer, as several of the other mercenaries quieted and glanced over.

[Ageofthewolf]

Nacatha got up to leave her tent as she heard someone speak, she moved back away from the tent's flap thinking to herself for a moment she moved towards the flap pushing it open and emerging from her little hide-away. She pushed herself to her feet looking at the man who stood outside the tent, she wore her usual garb that was stained and patched up from wear and tear over her travels.

When she emerged from the tent all but one of her tattoos were hidden, two by her gloves while the other two were hidden under pieces of cloth that were wrapped around her forearms then tied in a bow. The top of the two on her forearms peaked out from under the cloth, however the one on her forehead was in plain sight not because she wanted it visible but because she had not found a way to hide it.

"Hello sir what do you need...." her voice was quiet, her eyes avoided his as she looked her over before she looked down away from his face but kept her face turned upward towards his.

[CromTheConqueror]

Douvel's face was passive as the woman appeared before him, her marking vibrant and visible upon her forehead. Though he could not say for certain, he would guess that if the rumors were true, the rest of the markings were hidden behind the quaint cloth she wore.

Douvel couldn’t help but notice that despite simple her attire, her face was pretty , and the old teachings of Eadhaolin etiquette that had been ingrained in him seemingly at birth took control.

Bowing he introduced himself,"Milady, I am Douvel Tout, heir to the Tout Estate at Ellandum and adept of the Blazing Sun. I have come to treat with you."

He moved aside his violet colored cloak to reveal some container, a sweet smelling aroma rising from, and continued,"It is rare to be visited by a woman of your…stature. Do you mind if I come in?"

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The men in the surrounding area further quietened and observed with extreme attention. The young woman appeared vastly beautiful, especially in an environment where the only women seen ever since they left port back home were either untouchables from the Conclave or Inquisition, or they were themselves rough an unfeminine. The few mercenaries who were stunningly gorgeous were extremely deadly and used their skill of seduction and of violence to put a man in his place.

This woman appeared to be more frail and young. She was also an oddity, as a tattooed woman was almost unheard of. She seemed innocent to boot, which put a wicked thought through the heads of some of the more desperate men around.

On top of that, some new guy, royal blood by the sound of his voice and manners, probably from around the Horse Lands, was offering her something that smelled quite good. It didn't take much to decide that it probably tasted a great deal better than their broth and sea-ration bread.

Some of the men shifted their positions, mostly to get a better look, but none made any sudden movements. The last time anyone started anything within the host, the Inquisition appeared from nowhere and ended it, bloodily.

The old man set the spoon gently into the bowl and cradled it in his lap, focusing intently on everything going on, as was the man who carried the quiver and bow.

[Ageofthewolf]

The young woman glanced around at the other men as they watched her, color filling her cheeks from embarrassment before returning to look at the man in front of her. She seemed to be not use to being talked to as the gentleman in front of her was, she slid a gloved hand behind her neck rubbing it slowly before shaking her head sorry. "I..um rather sit out here if you don't mind sir."

She looked away from him as she finished speaking before lowering her head back to its normal position starting to walk over to a nearby ruined chunk of wall, she turned quickly her dress spinning with her before she started to sit. She sits leaning on one hip with her legs folded out to her right close to her, she placed her right hand on her legs then her left on the ground next to her to help support her. "Nacatha Naswood, I'm sorry I didnt not introduce myself straight away."

[CromTheConqueror]

Douvel waved his hand to brush away her apology. "Not at all milady," he said sincerely, "It's easy to forget ones mannerism in a place so dark and crude as this."

He moved closer to the ruined wall as the woman declined his request to enter her tent and opened the container. Within stood two identical plain silver plates stacked on top of each other with silver forks to match. Two satin napkins, the same deep violet as Douvel's cloak, completed the utensils sets. Douvel imagined these details went unnoticed however. All attention would instead be drawn to the lightly wrapped but plainly sugared cakes that the container also held. Though they were small, it was apparent that they were constructed with great detail, with white icing covering the top and velvet colored icing in the shape of a rose in the center.

"That being said one should try to always remember the proper etiquette of civilization," he continued as he prepared the cake and handed one of the pieces over to the woman. "Bon appétit."

After handing the cake over to the woman, Douvel made a flourishing gesture with his napkin, and stuck it into the nap of his finely woven dark blue robes. As he served the attractive woman before him, Douvel became the Eadhaolin nobleman he had forgotten since coming here. He found it easy now to ignore the tattoos on her forehead and he looked straight into her eyes as he politely asked, "Nacatha tell me about yourself?"

[MidgetNinja]

Having concluded his evenings inspection of the line, Arch Inquisitor Vander made his way back into the camp, his mind wandering as it liked too these days even as he unconsciously decided to walk mercenary sections of the camp and get a feel for their moral.

Vander himself did not particularly like the mercs, preferring instead the calm, reliable professionalism of the Conclave house troops, and though there were collections of them to be found if one scrounged, besides the token forces sent from Conclave affiliated realms, the bulk of the military presence here was decidedly freelance.

It irked him somewhat, but there was little he could do seeing as he was not holding the reigns on this one. Indeed that honor had gone to one Lord Inquisitor Stockly, who had a nasty habit of looking at a war through a bureaucrats eyes. A bad habit forming among his fellow Inquisitors if you asked Vander, but again there was little he could do about it.

Truthfully it was not too terribly hard to look on Vander's presence in this crusade as a 'punishment' of sorts, or just an method to outright get rid of him. But really his superiors had explained the reality of the situation. He was here as a means to audition, there was a belief among higher ups in the conclave that these, Kailzim, might be consorting with...whatever the Darius Project had been organized to study.

He was assigned to investigate, officially he operated outside of the crusades jurisdiction, though he was still expected to offer his support wherever Stockly might have need of him.

There was a noticeable gathering up ahead that drew Vander out of his thoughts, he hadn't been noticed quite yet, all eyes being drawn to the spectacle of...

...of course, a woman, a pretty women no less, and some man with a ridiculous moustache in the favored style of Eadhaolin nobility. Of the two the women was far more interesting. She was magic touched, he knew that right off thanks to the nature of his sight, but it did not appear to be as simple as that, the magic flowing from her was different somehow...more, angular, perhaps was the right word.

He made a note to observe her for now, if only to sate his curiosity.

For now he was content to hang back mostly out of sight, leaning in the shadows of some ruined archway. Something seemed to be stirring in the crowd, and he had a feeling he was going to regret leaving Marcus back to watch his quarters.

Meanwhile Ezsrah sat alone in the merc camp, somehow finding himself on the fringes of one of the groups even as a limber looking archer took a seat in the circle uncomfortably close to him, seamlessly joining the idle conversation, even as Ezsrah, tried futilely to isolate himself further from this unwanted level of humanity about him. He always was more comfortable alone.

Resigned to the fact that evening meditation was now effectively a pipe dream, he did as he had been trained to do when faced with a potentially threatening situation.

He sat quietly and observed.

It was a simple matter to deduce the center of this sea of testosterone that stank up the air, was in fact a pretty woman. And the nobleman who seemed to be making some manner of pass at her, smelling of cleanliness and some manner of incense that Ezsrah instinctively associated with weakness.

Two others seemed to be observing the situation as he did, the archer from before, and a balding elder man who was doing a poor job of pretending to eat his soup.

A third he found further out, hiding with what the ninja judged to be semi competence in the shadows on the outskirts of the concentration of humanity.

He had the smell of magic on him, same as the girls though the latter was of a different sorts it seemed.

He had a feeling the likes of which he got instinctively before a battle. Something was going to happened, for the momment he was unsure how he would react, but for now he would wait, even as his fingers unconciously fingered the hilts of his kunai hidden inside his sash.

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Mearic, the old, half-blind Vëannëlander, tried to observe the entire situation from his vantage point without looking more obvious than the mercenaries. He mentally scoffed at the obliviousness of the Eadhaolin noble, bringing out great-smelling food and precious metal silverware in front of murderers and thieves. He palmed the top of a concealed axe at his right hip in case the mercenaries, or the man, or even the woman decided to take the whole thing south. The Inquisition wouldn't be far behind, and he'd have to shuffle around the city again.

He noticed after a moment that some of the mercenaries caught sight of something and instantly turned back to what they were doing. He looked back to his partner, Thaem, another Vëannëlander he had ended up with by chance. They locked eyes for a moment before Thaem looked back to the woman and noble and Mearic looked behind behind his partner.

He could barely make out the robed figure and the insignia he bore on his clothing. Each Inquisitor, especially those of high rank, had a slightly stylized emblem with a personal touch. What he could discern from the stature, body figure, and clothing was that he was seeing one person in only a handful of potential candidates.

While it could be an Inquisitorial imposter, no one dared go that far in the heart of an Inquisitorial or Conclave operation, and this one was joint. The most likely candidate was an Arch Inquisitor by the name of Vander, as it was known he was given certain amounts of free reign and the rest of the brass usually stayed put at the heart of the city. He was told to watch out for Vander, which was disconcerting. No one wanted to get involved in the political debauchery of the Inquisition, especially as pawns to the puppeteers who held great influence over the entire Crusade. He debated with himself whether or not to ignore Vander's presence and decided that, if anything should happen between the girl and the mercenaries, that he would report that he sounded the alarm and Vander was surprisingly nearby.

If it came to that, anyway, and he hoped it wouldn't.

[Ageofthewolf]

The woman took the small cake from the nobleman placing the plate on her lap before taking the napkin and unfolding it before lifting the plate up again to slide the napkin onto her lap, she started to look the cake over slowly before looking back at the kind man. The moment she saw him looking at her she dropped her eyes looking back towards the ground. "I'm not that interesting, I use to be a servant but...I may have gotten lost about a year ago...and I ended up here..."

She wasn't one lie but it was also ingrained into her that she was to never expose where she was from, she started to take a small bite of the cake as she kept looking away from the man's face starting to blush again from the attention. She waited until she finished chewing and swallowed the bite of cake she had taken before continuing. "I was born northwest of here...at least I think I was, I really have no idea of where I am."

[CromTheConqueror]

Douvel chuckled inwardly though his face remained smooth. This woman had to be the worst liar he had ever met. Born northwest of here? There wasn't anything between here and the northwest but wild lands and impassable mountain ranges. And there certainly wasn't anyone to play servant to unless the feral beasts of this land were now staffing their bloodlettings with tea and cake. Clearly tattoos were not all this woman was hiding. "I see," he replied his voice not betraying a hint of skepticism. He took a small bite and relished in the sweet taste. "Have a bit of this cake my dear. It really is quite good. The film covering was of Conclave make. It makes it seem like it came right out of the oven!"

He took a second bite to emphasize his point. "So how exactly did you come upon this outpost then?"

[Ageofthewolf]

Nacatha took another bite, she seemed to be having a little trouble using the fork because of the heavy gloves she wore. She ate slowly leaning her head back against the wall as she chewed trying to stall as she thought of something to say. She figured she might as well tell the truth since she couldn't think of a lie. "Well I was following the shoreline and saw a few ships off in the distance but when i got to them they were gone so I just followed the tracks. Then I got attacked by some creature and while I was running from it I ended up here." She started to take another bite of the cake chewing faster. "Your right...this is good..so...where is this Ellandum place you're from?"

[MidgetNinja]

Watching the situation develop as it did, and with two Inquisitorial agents about, Vander found himself half tempted to wash his hands of the situation and just leave well enough alone. He was undecided until he caught sight of a group of mercs a little to interested in the exchange between the noblemen and the young lady, even as their fingers drifted with seeming idleness to their weapons...

It was right then that he decided he had seen quite enough.

"My oh my what a pleasant little sewing circle we have here," said Vander loud and clearly announcing his presences as he stepped out of his hiding place and into plain sight.

He wandered boldly into the midst of the mercenaries, a half smile on his face as he appraised the men who all gloriously failed to meet his gaze.

"Right then, disperse," he said simply, before his voice dropped an octave and he very sternly added, "Now."

And they did, some quicker then others, a few quite begrudgingly so, only one lingered where he sat, clearly in his living area of sorts, which Vander decided was well enough to leave alone.

Situation firmly under control Vander's half smile returned as he easily walked up to the pair whom had just spared a rather ugly incident.

"Ah, Douvel good to see you as always," greeted Vander, knowing the noblemen quite loathed being referred too so casually, but a little salt in the wound was supposed to be good for it...or possibly bad for it, but it was still fun to do either way, "I am so frightfully glad you decided to join our little expedition, I can't imagine how we would have carried on without you."

"But where are my manners, Arch Inquisitor Vander of the Conclave at your service madam," said Vander, making quite a spectacle of himself as he bowed with overt formality at his introduction, "And what name would you have me call you pretty young lady? Or will pretty young lady suffice?"

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At the sight of Vander's presence, the mercenaries dispelled any thoughts they had about accosting the nobleman and the curious young woman. They were startled at his words and left, not wishing to stir trouble with the Conclave, nor with the Inquisition, especially not with someone of such high status.

Mearic and Thaem filed out, nodding ever so slightly to show respect to the Arch Inquisitor, and disappeared into the crowds to resume their duties elsewhere.

[CromTheConqueror]

Douvel calmly took the none-too obvious barbs of the Inquisitor. He had already held several brief conversations with the man before and had quickly surmised that the man was awash in jealousy. Raised most of his life by the Conclave, Vander had never experienced a real life. His story likely consistent of bending his back and licking of the boots of his superiors until he was a position to have other people to do the same to him. Though considering he was now positioned in this forsaken land Douvel would guess he hadn't kissed ass quite well enough.

"Thank you Inquisitor," Douvel replied calmly, "I have no idea how we get along with you. Would you care to sit down? I'm afraid we have no seats but the grass is soft enough." He attempted his most sincere smile though inside he was seething.

[Ageofthewolf]

Nacatha looked up at the man that made battle hardened men and rookies alike scatter from the area, then listened as he made snide remarks at the man she was sitting with expense. She sighed as she looked up at him before looking away from him. "My name is Nacatha Naswood sir. Also if your going to act that way towards this gentleman I'm sitting with I wont think twice about asking you to leave us be..." She didn't seem to understand this arrogant man's significance in the camp or she did not seem to not care about it.

She looked back to Douvel for a moment before looking away from the two. "Now you haven't answering my question sir."

[MidgetNinja]

Vander was...well, he was just a might bit amused at the rather stern reaction he had gotten out of the young lady. Most people were stunned when confronted by an Inquisitor seemingly without a stick up his ass.

If he wasn't curious before he certainly was now.

"Well I humbly beg malady's pardon," ventured Vander with his half grin never faltering, as he bowed deeply yet again in apologies, before turning to regard Douvel.

"However," he said, all pretense of amusement gone as he leveled a hard sightless look in the noblemen's direction, "I do believe the gentlemen you are sitting with would do well to remember in the future that it is unwise to flaunt his wealth in a den of men who kill for...oh what was it again...Oh yes! Money."

And just as soon as it was gone, the half grin returned as he looked back to Nacatha,"Ah but I am interrupting aren't I," he said apologetically, before turning his amused expression to the man of Eadhaolin "Douvel, do regal us with stories of your homeland...Ellandum was it?"

Oh it was so much fun to tease the dangerously snooty.

[CromTheConqueror]

Douvel paused for a moment before he replied. He was torn between mixed emotions. Half of him fought amusement at the pathetic attempts of wordplay the Inquisitor had leveled his way. This simpleton had little talent for the exchange of tongue. Douvel had grown up a child in a nobles world. Did the man honestly think these obvious taunts would phase him? And yet the second half was enraged. How dare this peasant man seek to insult him? This seviente was nothing to him. Inquisitors badge or no inquisitors badge. Douvel would flaunt his wealth wherever he damn well pleased. The mercenaries could do nothing to harm him – even taking the Inquisitions men out of the equation. Still, it would serve nothing to show his anger so instead Douvel answered the man's question. "Ellandum consists of the most beautiful countryside west of Krak de Monutem. It is a place of dazzlingly sunsets, crystalline lakes, and vast fields of roses. It is a place meant for gorgeous women," he glanced briefly at Nacatha as he spoke the last words. "And…" Douvel paused to look at Vander for a moment before passing over him and then gesturing to himself, "…distinguished men. My families estate sits on a plateu surrounded by a patch of idyllic woods overlooking the lake of Vuelvamon."

[Ageofthewolf]

Nacatha tried to control her anger as Vander ignored what she said and kept antagonizing Douvel, she looked towards Douvel as he spoke still not looking straight at him. As he continued to flatter her she blushed more heavily then before, the way she was being treated seemed new to her. -Even if I don't like this Vander person I must be civil...- she told herself as she glanced towards Vander for a moment before looking away from him. "What exactly is the Conclave...I've never heard of it before..." She started to take another bite of the cake Douvel had given her as she waited for an answer.

[MidgetNinja]

"Well now that is interesting," said Vander curiously, his blinded eyes appraising the girl before him, "A pretty young lady clearly marked with runic tattoos openly claiming to an Arch Inquisitor that they were not in fact Conclave sanctioned..."

He smiled at that ludicrous audacity of it, "Ah, but we're not done yet, this same pretty young lady with no knowledge of the Conclave has somehow found herself swept up in one of it's crusades, curiouser and curiouser indeed."

He chuckled a bit, an edge of weariness laced within, before he continued.

"I imagine you and I will have a very personal conversation about the exact nature of the conclave in the near future," he said with some dejected resignation, as he turned to regard Douvel again, trusting he would at least appreciate the gravity of the situation, "But until then."

"You," he said with undeniable firmness, all teasing pretenses dropped at the last, "If anyone asks about her, you are to inform them she is a member of your order, if they question you further, show them this," he said, tossing his badge to the nobleman, "That should shut them up right quick."

He turned at that, managing a few steps before hesitation caused him to turn back, "Your cooperation in this matter is of course entirely up to you, though you'd do well to remember I know at least 3 ways to have you imprisoned for life on counts of high treason as well as aiding and abedding rouge mages."

His half smile returned as he bowed deeply to Nacatha,"Well madam it was a pleasure meeting you, alas parting is such sweet sorrow, but I'm afraid there is a briefing I must attend to now, rest assured I shall see to you later."

With that he turned and simply marched off back into the main part of camp.

[CromTheConqueror]

Douvel got the badge as it was thrown and quickly pocketed it. For a moment he was actually speechless. Had an Inquisitor really just given him the sign of his authority? Then threatened his life? What the hell had just happened?

He paused to collect his thoughts. This was an interesting turn of events. When the woman had spoken her ignorance of the Conclave, Douvel had been horrified. He had no doubt she was still lying but he for the life of him he couldn't figure why she would tell such a lie. With such clear magical markings it was almost asking for a death sentence. She had to understand that the Conclave did not allow unsanctioned magic. It was their entire reason for existing. To control the use of magic in the world. Still, it seemed Vander understood her words were false and was more concerned with learning about her magical markings. Indeed, they were quite fascinating. Douvel had never witnesses such an interesting application of magic in his entire life.

In fact Douvel found everything about the woman very interesting and he didn’t mind the excuse to learn more about her in the slightest. He turned to regard Nacatha and spoke slowly, “So…my lady. It appears we the Inquisitor has ordered you to become my charge. As I'm sure neither of us would like to disregard the direct commands of the Inquisition, it seems we are going to be enjoying one another's company for a bit longer. Would you care to retire to my tent?”

[Ageofthewolf]

The young woman could barely contain her anger at Vander. The man had continued to insult Douvel then when she asked a simple question he threatens them both with death and makes her a prisoner in all but name for the fact she had no knowledge of who he worked for. Then he just walks away as if nothing happened, Nacatha gritted her teeth for a moment before she set the small plate down on the ground and placing the napkin next to it before looking at Douvel.

"I have no knowledge of this so called "Conclave" or this "Inquisition" but where I am from he would be executed for keeping a Mast..." Nacatha seemed to notice what she was saying and stopped herself from exposing more about her, at least she hoped she did. She was quiet for a moment as she started to stand. "I am sorry but I will not be joining you Mister Douvel I have enjoyed your company and your compliments but you will have to do more then that to bed me..." She started to walk past him back towards her tent her gloved hands balled into fists.

[CromTheConqueror]

Douvel's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the woman harsh words and curt response. The anger in her voice had sounded genuine. Could it honestly be that she had no true knowledge of the Conclave? It seemed impossible to a man who had grown up with the Conclave’s authority surrounding him at every turn and whose entire life had been turned upside down on their whim.

But Douvel was no fool. Living the life of the nobleman made one accustom to acting. That was all noble politics really were. It was the reason he could never enjoy the plays that were all the rage in the capital these days. They seemed every bit as fake to him as they actually were. But unless that woman was truly a liar of considerable skill then there was no denying that her reaction was sincere.

Douvel paled a little. Had he truly been interacting with an unsanctioned woman while in the presence of an Inquisitor? That was comparable to spitting on royalty. One could not ask for a quicker sentencing of death. Suddenly he became very conscious of the Inquisitors badge in his pocket. He was tied to that man now whether he wanted to be or not. His protection was likely the only thing between him and a quick visit to a stake pyre.

Douvel shook his head. The woman’s other words had finally penetrated his reverie. Bed with him? While it was true the idea may have sounded attractive before, neither had it entered his mind for a moment. He was interested in her purely for academic reasons and with this possibility of her being unsanctioned he could hardly consider sleeping with her now. It would be viewed as nothing less than a pledge of allegiance toward wild magic.

That was not stopping the woman from walking away however and he quickly moved forward to reengage her. “Milady you grossly mistake my intentions. I simply wish to provide you with better lodgings outside of this lowlife gathering. My only intent is to see you safe and comfortable.”

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