At his approach the publican clears his throat softly, “The Rose Room has been set aside, as requested. Several of your companions have arrived, though your cousin sent word he cannot attend.” The big man nods slowly, before pouring several platinum coins into the publican’s hand. Giving the room one last look over, the tall Human and his Elven companion head towards the back room, nodding to the other patrons he recognizes. As they quietly enter the room several voices, Elven, Human and a Prydaen raise warm greetings to both.
A few minutes later marks the arrival of another human warrior, his long cloak billowing behind him in his haste. His kadepa armor modeled in the similar style to the earlier warrior, the younger man quickly strides up to the publican before being gestured towards one of the back rooms. Upon his arrival he takes a deep steadying breath before opening the door to the Rose Room, his entrance punctuated by a bass voice echoing “You’re late, Squire”.
Stepping into the room the younger man is greeted by two leather clad Elves sitting to the left and right of the table, longbows leaning against the wall behind their chairs. An auburn haired Human woman clad in corset and skirt is leaning over slightly saying something to one of the Rangers. Seated opposite, next to the other Ranger is an older, tawny furred Prydaen, weapon harness studded with darkened steel emblems of the gods draped across the his chair. Facing the door on the far side of the table seated next to the tall Human man is the Elven woman. Blue-black hair set just so behind her by a nightsilk and Elamiri sapphire lily, her hand resting gently on the big man’s arm, she smiles a greeting to the latest entry and then murmurs something in her companion's ear. Samsaren leans forward in his chair, pavise shield and sterak axe against the wall behind him in easy reach. With an ungauntleted hand he gestures for the Squire to take one of the remaining seats.
As Eckan settles himself into his chair the door bursts open with a rush of barely stifled giggles as a curly auburn haired Elf dashes in with a platter of fresh warm cupcakes. Depositing them quickly in front of Eckan with a breathless “Congratulations!”, is all she manages before the city guards, obviously in hasty pursuit, grab her and remove her from the room muttering apologies.
Chuckling softly and taking a bracing sip from the glass before him the tall human speaks, “My friends, I called us together for a happy moment of celebration. My Squire has earned his one hundredth circle.” Nodding proudly to the younger man he raises his glass in a toast. “As such I’ve arranged for a quiet room as well as food and drink to celebrate, and will offer you one boon as long as it’s in my power to give.”
The younger man blushes under the undivided attention before studying his glass a moment. After a period of quiet reflection he says, “My story is guided by your hand, and as such is better know to us all, yours however is rarely told. I’d like to hear your story, Sam.”
Sitting back in surprise the big man gazes at the younger warrior, before his attention is called to the Elven woman at his side, her gentle laugh bringing chuckles from the others. Samsaren chuckles ruefully, “I suppose I walked into that. Are you sure you want to hear something so dull? Its hardly the most exciting tale.” The younger man nods, completely serious. “Alright lad, if that’s your request.. The story starts, as they are wont to do, with me as a young boy...
I grew up on a farm. The simple life, my father and I with a small piece of land. Hard work, but we never went hungry. I fondly recall my old man, stern but fair. Well liked by his neighbors, sought after for advice and company. I think I could have lived that way, and happily too. Sadly, that simple time was ended by the war with Lord Sorrow. Like too many I lost my home, and family, and ended up one of too many refugees begging for aid in the Crossing. Fortune however, favored me greatly and I was taken in by the Ranger, Bowgirl. Seeing a metal in me, she eventually delivered me to the Paladin guild. There I met Sir Darius, and I’m not afraid to say my story as a Paladin almost ended there. Sir Darius and I never got along, but that never stopped him. He took that raw metal and forged a Paladin from it, with me kicking and screaming the whole way.”
"From there, I continued to keep the company of Rangers, meeting the Elf who sits with us, Maltris. Fast friends we became, thicker than thieves. We swore an oath of Brotherhood, a moment I hold dear to this very day.”
"Years passed, and I met another Ranger, also with us tonight, Korsobar. Mm, the trouble we used to get into - never ones to shy from a challenge we’d take on anyone, or anything. Ah to be young again.”
"Some time later I joined my old friend and mentor, Leucius, in starting up the Northern Branch of the Phoenix Warriors. During my stent there the troubles with the Outcast was brewing and the leader of the Baron’s Own asked for support from our order. With that, I took the lieutenant role in the Baron’s Own, as well as working with my order to coordinate responses as needed. The war is a story for another time..with something heavier to drink than wine so we’ll save that for another time.”
"Before and during the conflict I took on the roles of Vice Speaker for the Phoenix Warriors and later, Field Marshal, leading the group in both battle and exercises with various militia groups abroad.
"Seasons changed, as did my pursuits, and I ended up spending many years on Corik’s Wall, helping my fellow Emerald Knights with the work there, before returning to Ilithi. There I fell in with my old friend, the Cleric Liurilias who introduced me to Sendithu, who at the time was serving as Shard's Ambassador. It came to pass that I took up the role as Bodyguard for the Ambassador, a position I still take rather seriously despite her retirement from the public light.”
Settling back in his chair, Samsaren gazes upward a moment. Sighing slightly, he continues “I believe that more or less should catch you up.” With a chuckle he glances ruefully at a softly snoring ranger, “Now, please go signal our friends outside to bring in our meal, I’ll wake Korsobar..”
Grinning, the younger Squire leaps to his feet stepping outside of the room. As he closes the door the basso echo of a powerful war cry, and the surprised shout to follow in elven is slowly drowned out of the rich sound of laughter.
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