A Difficult Decision

When the quartet entered Marlock City, they agreed to split up into two groups. Trystan wanted to take Lyonesse to the market to sell off any extra gear they had picked up and purchase supplies for the trip ahead. That meant Hector would escort Ysolt to the House of Priests. The wayfarer figured that the rogue would be on his best behavior if kept away from the gambling den and the market, even if the shorter fellow had proven himself trustworthy thus far. However, this was the first time all four of them had been in the metropolis together. Larger cities meant more opportunities for trouble if one didn’t have their wits about them. Before they split ways, Hector gave Trystan the sword and mace he had been carrying. “I much prefer to work with daggers, please,” the thief requested in a hushed tone.

At the market, Trystan was having a difficult time selling the sword and mace for a fair price, or in trade for a decent set of daggers. “This is frustrating,” he grumbled to Lyonesse as they went to find another weaponsmith or trader to barter with. “In Venefax, we sold an extra sword there at double the cost of what they’re willing to take here. I’m fairly certain we would have been able to get his daggers a quarter less than how much they’re charging now.” The mage, who had been gripping the wayfarer’s arm as a means of not getting separated from him among the throng of buyers and sellers, turned her head in one direction and another as she caught tidbits of conversations around them.

“Marlock City is the capital of Soraka,” she mentioned casually, leaning her head against his shoulder so she wouldn’t have to raise her voice too much to be heard. “The general who won the civil war is a fixture here, and wants to prove that his policies are better than the former king’s.” Trystan nodded, not necessarily in agreement but in understanding behind her logic. “He likely raised the taxes on the merchants because it is his soldiers that protect them on the main trade roads. Those soldiers need to be paid and fed,” Lyonesse pointed out further. “But the other cities haven’t raised their market taxes,” he then countered sternly, as if the statement meant a significant difference. “Not yet, they haven’t. They might not need to until he sends out a kingdom-wide edict,” she suggested with a subtle frown on her lips. Trystan frowned in unison. He wasn’t one for politics, as even the rulers of the kingdoms rarely had any real control over the untamed forests and wildlands. But they could make it more difficult for his ilk if they couldn’t afford basic supplies and gear due to rising taxes.

Maybe something needed to be done about the new regime. Trystan kept these thoughts to himself, though. The reminder of the bodies hanging outside of the gate was enough to keep any ideas of a rebellion to himself.

Meanwhile, Hector escorted the priestess of Maka to the House of Priests. Instead of trying to persuade the guards that he was her guardian, Ysolt dropped the rogue off at the Temple of Sig. “Sig like you,” she said with a wink before leaving her companion to appreciate the shrine devoted to the androgynous deity of rogues and bards. The short, blond man meandered around for a bit, completely in awe of the donations that had been left in honor of Sig. He felt an itch, a yearning to be so wealthy one day. He bowed his head, tugging the cowl over his face so that the dark-robed priests nearby didn’t get a good look at his face.

However, he still stood out to the high priest, who approached Hector and gestured for him to follow. In his office, they sat down to discuss a topic of potential interest. The high priest was a lean man, tall, thin air giving him a wide widow’s peak, and an angular jawline that accentuated his goatee. “You’re trying too hard,” the high priest said, waving to the cowl and silently insisting that the young rogue remove it for the duration of their discussion. Once he saw what Hector was hiding, he neither cringed nor dismissed the lad. “I see why now. Shame that it makes you a target, and easily recognizable,” he said with a sigh, stroking the trimmed goatee on his chin. “But some of our more notorious members are quite distinguished in their…flare,” he added with a twirl of his slender wrist.

Hector raised a brow and frowned, a little confused by what the high priest meant by all of that. “I find I can get away with more tricks of the trade when I can blend in with the crowd,” the blond mad explained, giving a subtle hint that he felt insulted. “Which, of course, is your greatest asset. Blending in when the odds are against you. Imagine, if you will, the chance to get your hands on something completely priceless and leave without being seen or recognized at all. Such as if the guards could only place you as short, but couldn’t determine any of your unique features,” Sig’s representative suggested, which more or less was reiterating what Hector had been implying earlier.

The thing was, he never really pilfered anything that was considered priceless. “What are you trying to sell me on?” Hector asked, quickly expressing how bored the conversation made him. “There is a temple of Tyrnai in Caran Baru,” the high priest explained, crossing his fingers together before resting his chin on them as he leaned forward over his opulent desk. “Worn on their idol of the great warrior god is a suit of gold armor. Quite ornamental and completely useless as armor goes.” “But quite valuable, I imagine,” the rogue mused quietly, causing the man across from him to smirk with pleasure. “You’ll be rewarded for your donation, of course,” the administrator added to sweeten the pot. “I better be,” Hector said, but that was all, assuming he could get away with it.

As soon as the head administrator’s secretary announced that Ysolt was waiting to see him, the older priest immediately rushed out to congratulate her. “The crystal ball revealed your accomplishment! The gods’ blessings are upon you, young lady! Tonight, we shall feast in your honor, and the high priests insist on granting you tuition,” he said with a beaming smile as he ushered the dark priestess out of his office and down the hall toward the dining hall. “That mean month of study and training?” Ysolt asked, understanding that it was a high honor for a traveling priest. But it also meant spending the entire month away from her companions. “May I invite companions to feast?”

The administrator would not dare refuse her request. Messengers were sent out to find Hector, Lyonesse, and Trystan and escort them back to the House of Priests for the feast.


Ysolt Increases 1 Rank. Roll 1 Die.

Ysolt Increases 1 in Stamina.

The feast was a joyous occasion, and the quartet was given beds in the dormitory to sleep in. The following morning, they were also granted a private room in the library to discuss their plans, per Ysolt’s request. “I be training for month, much like with Oliphard,” the priestess explained as the others listened, Hector and Trystan exchanging glances. “It’s an opportunity of a lifetime for you,” the ranger agreed, but there was a lilt in his voice that indicated the inconvenience. “I know it took us several months already to complete the request to find the Willow Druid; I’m not comfortable delaying my return to the Isle of Druids any further,” Trystan admitted as Lyonesse lowered her head in quiet contemplation.

“Are you suggesting that we just up and abandoned Ysolt?” Hector asked, his heterochromatic eyes widening in disbelief. “She has a place here, Hector,” Trystan responded without fully answering the question. “And for a wayfarer, a metropolis like this is stifling and a detriment to his skills and way of life,” the mage spoke up before the rogue could argue back. While she had only been traveling with the others for a few days, her keen senses picked up on a lot of their habits and discussions. Hector was city-born, and likely thrived as a thief and burglar on the streets. Even the story they told to Lyonesse and her mentor about rescuing Elnir’s son on Devil’s Peak included his fear of falling. The world outside of the city took a hard toll on the shorter fellow. Not to say that he was frail, but he tended to bellyache a lot. Trystan’s frustrations were only amplified when having to contend with the crowds and rising taxes of Marlock City specifically. “We weren’t even able to trade the extra gear we didn’t need for the tools you requested,” she clarified further, leaving Hector a bit speechless and embarrassed.

“I wouldn’t recommend a parting of ways,” Lyonesse continued, as though she were mediating a meeting. “At least not permanently. Perhaps momentarily, so that the good Ysolt can complete her training, and Trystan can complete his quest for the druids.” The rogue frowned as he looked to the mage, unable able to lock eyes with her, yet she turned his head in a manner that implied they had. “What of us, then?” Hector asked bitterly. “Will you just go back to your mentor? And I’ll go on my way to find my own place in this city?” Though he already had a job, it required him to head back north. That was a journey he didn’t relish taking on his own. Not when he was starting to make a friend and put his faith in the aid of another. Specifically, the priestess who had remained quiet for some time.

“Hector stay here,” Ysolt suggested. “With me. Stay in city, in dorms even. Pick up jobs and chores in the area,” she continued as the others all turned to look at her as she spoke. Her voice had been quiet just then, as if she wasn’t entirely sure if they would take her suggestion seriously. “Miss Dewin go with Trystan. Continue explore and experience world. Return here after. Should be done by time of return.” To Lyonesse, the holy woman’s plan made sense. Hector was left blushing, his mottled face completely flushed, its colors often hidden by his cowl. Trystan leaned back and thoughtfully considered what Ysolt proposed.

Earlier in their experiences, he would have considered this a great way to escape from the priestess and never lay eyes on her ever again. Then he was reminded of how she had followed him out of Marlock City and what she had said when he had proposed abandoning her at the Blessed Springs. His expression of concern then turned into a smile as his vibrant green eyes locked with the teal hues of the woman who kept insisting that he was blessed. She instantly grinned in response, even though no words were exchanged in that moment. “Alright,” Trystan said before glancing at Hector. “Looks like you’ll have a free place to stay,” he said to the rogue, who chuckled. “Best bed I’ve slept in,” the blond admitted with a snort. “I work out arrangements with administrator. You gather supplies from dining hall before departure,” Ysolt insisted. Lyonesse and Tryston would depart the city the following morning.

Name: Ysolt Ynys
Profession: Priestess
God: Maka
Rank: 2
Defense: 6
Charisma: 4
Combat: 4
Magic: 4
Sanctity: 9
Scouting: 4
Thievery: 2
Stamina: Max – 13/Current – 13
Money: 172 Shards
Possessions – Max 12: Staff, Padded Robes ( Defense +1 ), Faery Mead, Enchanted Spear ( Combat +2 ), Silver Holy Symbol ( Sanctity +2 ),
Resurrection Arrangements: -none-
Titles: Outcast, Commoner,
Blessings: Maka’s Blessing - Immunity to Disease and Poison – Ignore 1 instance of being poisoned or diseased.