The back room of the Phoenix Tavern had been cleared. Several tables had been set up, and mismatched chairs dotted the room. A serving man busied himself placing trays of ale and plates of meat rolls on the tables.
Sigil watched the man work, his gemmed gaze following the slightly nervous movements with some amusement. Even after all these months, the staff of the Phoenix Tavern had not gotten used to a Warforged being in a position of authority in the mercenary company that had claimed the tavern as its own.
The door slammed open and Rory burst in.
“Eh ye!! Ye need te be gettin yer ass in gear man! Them weens'll be upte there eyes in drink an arse o'er teet afore long, you may wanna ken a place other than a room with drink fer em te wait fer ye in!"
Sigil simply nodded, his reluctance to engage in discourse lost on the oblivious dwarf, who went back to the common room, slamming the door behind him.
“Go.” The single word sent the server scurrying back to his duties in the pub proper, happy to be away from the menacing Warforged.
It was less than a minute later when Rory returned, ushering in a motley collection of beings, followed by Mayn. Some of the non-Fellowship members were obviously under the influence of the ale that had been flowing freely, courtesy of Witchfinder’s tab. They chattered amongst themselves, mostly boasts and false bravado.
“Sit.” Sigil’s instruction failed to make an impact on the revellers. He repeated the word again, with as little effect. Tiring of being ignored, Sigil muttered arcane words and cast a minor spell, one sure to catch attention. A bright flare of magical light burst above the crowd, turning their talking into gasps of surprise and outrage, although the newcomer’s words were drowned out by the vociferous cursing of the dwarf.
Waiting a moment for the effects of his spell to ease, Sigil continued. “When I say sit, you sit. You are here to learn about the Fellowship of the Golden Night, and whether or not you will seek service with us. We are also here to learn if you have what it takes to join us. You get one night of free food, free drink, and free advice. After that, we will see where we go.”
Most of the potential recruits sat, rubbing their eyes and casting baleful glares at the Warforged wizard. One, a burly human dressed in a faded and dirty uniform that revealed his service at some point in the army of Thrane, remained standing. He pointed a finger at Sigil. “How dare you? Who do you think you are you damned machine? Cast a spell on me would you?” His hand started towards the hilt of his sword. He abruptly stopped and a strange look crossed his face.
“Whist ye fartin noise afore ye learn somethin with a sharper point son!.” Rory’s voice dripped with menace, the dagger he held gently against the Thranite’s side poised to pierce the man’s kidney. Sigil stared at the man.
“You have proved yourself of little worth to us. You may leave, with no repercussions. Should you wish to discuss this further, seek me out, but as you can see, a member of the Fellowship is seldom without back up. Go. Now.”
Trembling with frustration and fear, the human warrior raised his hand from his sword and backed out of the room, switching his gaze between the scowling dwarf and the Warforged. He spun and darted out of the room. Several of the recruits chuckled. Sigil turned his attention back to his audience.
“Let that be your first lesson. The Fellowship sticks together. A threat to one is a threat to all of us. Personal ambition, a desire for wealth, an obsession with power are all perfectly acceptable, but not to the detriment of the Fellowship.”
“Now, a bit of history. The Fellowship, as you know, is a mercenary company. We have a pseudo-military structure and operate under military discipline when employed. I hold the rank of Loremaster, which would equate to a lieutenant’s rank in a regular formation. We are far more relaxed when not on a mission, but we expect you to show respect to senior members.”
“The Fellowship was founded by Witchfinder. He is a wizard with substantial military background. He attracted several others of similar calibre and experience and set up here, in Stormreach. Very quickly we have established a reputation for competence and professionalism, a reputation that you will be expected to maintain should you join our ranks.”
“We undertake a variety of missions; everything from standard mercenary fare such as caravan guardianship and bodyguard duties, to more esoteric pursuits such as lore and artefact hunting on commissions from scholars and explorers, both here and back in Khoirvaire. We have worked for several well known organisations, such as several Dragonmarked houses, the University of Korranberg, and the Wayfarer Foundation.”
“What we will not do is be wasted in the line of battle. The Fellowship works best in small unit affairs, where our elite abilities and skills can be fully utilised. We will not engage in forlorn hopes to die gloriously for some nobleman’s cause. We will also not engage in terror tactics against non-combatants. By and large, we retain full tactical control during our commissions, and we are now in a position to pick and choose the choicest assignments.”
“In addition, we acknowledge that our members also have personal agendas. We fund many missions of our own from the profits that we make from our work. Thus, there will be many opportunities to line your own pockets above and beyond your company share.”
“Now, for another object lesson. How many of you here fought against Karrnathi forces in the Last War?” Several people raised their hands. “Well, I fought in the 4th Karrnathi Warforged Brigade. I was almost certainly involved in battles in which somebody you knew perished..” Shock emerged on several faces, which swiftly turned to hostility. A couple of people made to rise.
“EH!! Ye lo!! Doon!!! Noo!!!!!!.” Rory slammed his axe into the floor and Mayn let magical light play around his hands. Seeing the threat, the antagonists sat, their looks resentful and full of hatred.
“Here is your second lesson. What has gone before is in the past. Should you join us, you will be fighting beside people who have various prior allegiances. There is no room for revenge in the Fellowship. We have members of all professions, all heritages, all races, and all religions. If you cannot deal with that, leave. Now.”
Sigil’s gemmed eyes met each of the aspirants in an unreadable gaze. Finally a Halfling woman stood, spat on the floor, dodged passed an irate Rory and fled into the tavern. "Uppety short ass coo!!" Sigil nodded in satisfaction.
“We have no room for small mindedness in our ranks. Now, this introduction is almost complete. Should you wish to continue your application to join the premiere mercenary company in Stormreach, and should that application prove successful, you will be assigned to a mentor. When he or she deems you worthy, you will be fully inducted to our ranks.”
Rory, taking his cue from the Warforged, moved towards the door and motioned to several Fellowship members who had been drinking in the common room. They filed in, each evaluating the potential recruits with interest.
“Now, eat, drink. It’s all on our coin tonight. Ask any questions that you want answered. You may not get the answer you desire, or indeed any answer at all, but you may ask.”
Sigil left his comrades and those who aspired to be his comrades to their repast, leaving the room to report to his superiors. It had gone well tonight.
This topic was moved from forum Interested in Joining ?
to forum Public Access - Sticky and Archive
on 3/14/2008 11:47 AM by Witchfinder.