Coinage: 8 Silver, 5 Copper
- The (shredded) clothing on his back.
- A fur cloak.
- Seed of the Demon Plant
- Untanned boar skin.
- Leather Belt
- Knight's Shield
- Knight's Dagger
- Knight's Longsword
- Dwarf's Polearm
- Some preserved food
Enough for two people to last a few days.
- Roll of what seemed to be a mat of thick fur, likely for sleeping on
Comfortable, but only one.
- A heavy looking fur/cloth blanket.
Cozy, warm and heavy. Good for sleeping in colder climates.
- Communication horn
Made from bone, hollow and likely used for communication.
- A small pot and a ladle
- Frozen canteen of water
- Map of the Under roads.
A map detailing some routes used by the Dwarves and Shadow Elves to travel in their subterranean homes. Its not entirely complete, but it at least shows the routes to the two most notable settlements and several other places of note. Unless you travel off the paths, you probably won’t get lost.
By the time Sorcha came to view, Isidore found himself settled, his emotions in check and a stalwart purpose behind every movement again. Was this just experience, or had part of his 'peak human' status helped with the processing of toxins that his liver was currently handling? Regardless, he tilted his head slightly to the side at the swordswoman's reaction and said, "I'm perfectly lucid, Sorcha. And it's no problem. Considering circumstances, Leuca most likely needed some fun anyhow."
Still too many words. His tongue was still loosened by that ale, and Isidore still found himself speaking before contemplating. He frowned slightly, but whatever concerns he had, whatever thoughts, were chased away by Augusta's arrival.
Though the tower certainly hadn't done her any favors in terms of hygiene, with three days of travel bearing heavily on her otherwise alabaster complexion, the difference a well-made dress alone turned Augusta from merely being merely beautiful to being on the cusp of breath-taking. The mixture of colors was reminiscent of the night sky, golden embellishments a mimicry of the moon's splendor. It was curious, that the Urutha, a subterranean race, drew such inspiration from the night sky. Portions of it looked padded though, at least from what he recalled of the woman's silhouette before, serving to accentuate Augusta's natural curves in a tasteful fashion. Useless as protection, but aesthetically pleasing. Isidore kept his mouth from falling open like a punk in the throes of hormonally-driven attraction, however, and nodded at her.
"You look good," he said, unbuckling the rapier from his belt and offering it to her. "This will complete the look."
Retrospectively, Isidore may have done well to save some of his dinner for Octavia to enjoy as well, but surely if Augusta could afford a dress, she could've afforded a meal for their pet as well. He gave the demonic dog a scratch behind the ears instead, before following in Sorcha's footsteps, settling into the posture he always used when in a meeting with professionals: back straight, eyes forward, shoulders back, and movements deliberate. The Queen of the Urutha, no matter how influential, was not his queen.
Her palace room still gave him pause though.
A waterfall that created a pseudo-moat around the room, and a throne cut from a massive mushroom that exuded enough of a ghostly radiance to light up the room all by itself? In a past life, this would have been childishly gaudy, the fantasy of an immature dreamer, but here, it only reflected the otherworldly prestige of the palace's owner, Queen Vasserasa No-Last-Name. An Urutha different from the others he'd seen, affected perhaps by the demon that served as Gloomhaven's guardian so many years back. Her dress was understated and elegant, her arms slim but solid. Her countenance was a mask, the same mask that so many other people of influence had learned to perfect, yet worn so naturally that Isidore wouldn't have been surprised if it was simply her natural face. And her crown...
Her crown was silver.
Isidore narrowed his eyes, ever so slightly, but relaxed just as swiftly. Sorcha being constantly referred to as the Storm Bearer was something worth keeping in mind. Not so different from being referred to as the Undertaker or the Midnight Man, really. A title, manifested from a reputation potent enough to reach across nations, in a world without global media. Impressive.
Perhaps he'll make an impression as well.
"Call me Isidore," the dark-haired man spoke, striding purposefully across the room towards Vasserasa. His gaze flickered briefly towards the male beside her, whether attendant, guard, or husband, lingering just long enough to show that he was seen, before settling back upon the queen's eyes. "Of those gathered here, I'm the least remarkable, but I thank you yet for the hospitality you extend. After such long travels, it is soothing to see such a pleasant city, no matter the gazes of its occupants."
He stopped at the stairs leading up to the throne, allowing the queen to keep her high ground, and extended one hand forward for a shake.
"And it's wonderful too, to have affirmed once more that this world full of great horrors will balance itself out with greater beauty."