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Runtime	Break start
5h 1m	1h 52m

Episode 3: The Snipping of Shears

At a broad table, here in the banquet hall of the Villa Aurora (the Halovar estate), Teor, you are seated on a exquisite, velvet-lined and cushioned seat as a small, white velvet sack of coins lands with a thunk in front of you. The woman speaking to you says,
“And, of course, for any accoutrement needed for your service as a guardian errant of the Lord Wicander Halovar. The Mercanaud Couturier will be happy to fit you and your gear to our station. We attempt to make clear that violence is always a regrettable, tragic, and final resort; that the weaponry, armor, and tabardry of our various vassals and men-at-arms bear the symbol of the Candescent Creed, but we would shudder to think of you going out of your own pocket for that.”
Teor:“Oh, that is most understood. I think, if I might suggest an alternative, perhaps for an extra level of security, perhaps I could stay as I am, plainclothes, to not draw attention to anything that needs to be done on behalf of the Candescent Creed. A more covert security force.”
“A splendid suggestion. It is such an exciting proposition to imagine, that by wearing the symbol of the Candescent Creed, you may attempt to be covert in proudly wearing the symbol of the order.”
Close behind you, you hear dogs barking as the door flies open and on these sets of silvery-white chains, this massive knight walks in, heavily-armored, gray-bearded, human knight. He’s got gleaming, luminous tattoos all around his neck that curl up around over his eyes. He walks in and goes,
“Ah, you’re the former Bannersman, yes?”
Teor:“That would be me, Teor.”
“Well, Teor, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Sir Filoneus Halovar. These are my dogs Wrath and Judgement. I can’t tell which one is which, but then again when it comes to wrath and judgment, who can?!”
Teor:“Indeed. Both beautiful companions.”
You see one dog snarls and it has a dull glow from the back of its throat. You hear a sort of faint humming from its vocal chords, almost like it can’t stop whining. This whining is sort of beautiful, ethereal, almost angelic.
Teor:“Such a beautiful noise they make. I have never heard the like.”
Fil:“Oh, yes. They can’t stop singing, these dogs. The song confuses spellcasters. They’re good dogs. Glad to have you aboard! Well you’re best on your way to the couturier. We expect you back first thing tomorrow.”