TBA: Every Story Begins with a Name

Suggested Music: Chrono Symphonic - Manifest Destiny

The Lap, 5 Ascending Air"

"Baldur."

The burly bartender uttered the foreign name in a characteristically gruff tone (Although Baldur was of Delzahn birth, his chosen title was of Haslanti origin, where Skytongue was the language of choice).

"Baldur, eh?"

The half-interested patron polished off the cheap lager, letting the stein clang emptily back onto the counter top. The bartender, though scornful of his customer's disinterest, continued.

"They say he's one of the Shining Ones. He doesn't come t'town much, but I know a family whose entire farmland he saved. 'Fought off the ghost of an angry ancestor who was tryin' t'raise hell there. From what I hear, he operates mostly in th'mountains west o'here."

The patron's attention had been piqued by the tender's speculation.

"Y'don't say, a Shining One, here?"

The bartender slammed his right hand onto the bar top, though not severely, this time admonishing the man's enthusiasm. As he spoke, he began to refill the man's stein, this time with a helping of red ale, perhaps as a gesture of good will toward a fellow Illuminated One.

"Shh! We should be safe here, but you never know who's listening. And yes, here. Sort of - like I said, he works mostly to the West... I don't know what he does, honestly... "

The bartender scratched his head for a moment, recovering from his trail-off with admirable vigor.

"... But you can bet we've not seen the last of him!"

The patron smirked. Though his skepticism was tangible, so too was an almost childlike sense of hope. As strong as his doubts were, he wanted it to be true badly enough that he couldn't help but lend the theory some credence.

Another of the bar's patron, also a familiar face, took the nearest open seat on the right. He leaned in as he dropped a few nuggets of jade on the counter.

"Baldur, right? Word on the street says he was in Northleg last month..."

At any ordinary tavern, even in The Lap, it would be looked upon as unusual that so many patrons should be familiar with the name Baldur, and the rumors and truths that surrounded it. 'The Mile-High Broil', however, was no ordinary tavern. Located in the heart of The Lap's Fold region, The Mile-High Broil doubled as a safehouse for the Cult of the Illuminated, albeit a small one.

The Mile-High Broil was a cramped affair, built straight into a narrow alley formed by two of the storehouses so common in the Fold. The construction was shoddy, and it looked as though it wouldn't hold up well in a storm. Fortunately, weather was fairly calm in the lap, and its larger warehouse cousins provided a fair degree of elemental protection to the tiny building. Its interior was surprisingly well-lit for a tavern -- even a commensurately small number of torches kept it bright enough to read even in its shadiest corner. Enough effort had been put into its construction to give it a wooden floor and roof, but few other amenities had been provided - most of the tables and the bar were all made of the same wood (it was clear the bar had been built quickly, and all from the same load of lumber), while the chairs and stools appeared to have been lifted from other establishments in the area. Nevertheless, the mood was almost always jovial - the Illuminated were some of the Lap's most optimistic citizens. A lone olive branch was displayed quaintly behind the counter, hanging alone near one of the keg barrels. Unknown to any but those within the organization, this signaled the tavern as a safehouse for the Cult of the Illuminated. In the event of a persecuted individual or Shining One needing asylum, four bedrooms had been dug out and furnished beneath the Mile-High Broil, the keys to which were possessed by the bartender on duty.

---

The young Sidereals emerged from Celestial Gate 52 eager to embark upon what may have been their most significant assignment to date. As suggested by their mission dossier, the Fold region in the Lap held the highest population density of Cult of the Illuminated members, and it seemed like a reasonable place to begin a search for a man who'd dissapeared from the Loom of Fate in the past month; Baldur was known to have limited association with a number of Cultists in the city, and, as rumor had it, had allegedly slain a hungry ghost attacking an agricultural family's farm, cousins of the bartender at none other than the Mile-High Broil.

The Sidereals shot each other wayward glances of skepticism as they approached the shoddy construction, hoping for something that may have been a bit more accommodating -- the Mile-High Broil took its name for a reason, and the 1,000 foot hike had not been a pleasant one, even for the Chosen of the Maidens. Nevertheless, the skepticism was fleeting - the beginning of a mission was always exciting, and the pair knew there was work to be done.

The post will stop here, just in case there was anything the two of you wanted to do or say before actually entering the tavern. We should also sort out resplendent destinies - perhaps we can set a few minutes aside tonight (It is technically Friday) and do that.

---

Resplendent Destinies: The Rising Smoke: Duration 1 year, 4 Endurance Points. The Sword: Duration 3 months, 2 Endurance Points.

Post to Follow...

--FyreFly 17:09, 21 March 2009 (EDT)