Two weeks.
It felt like five years. She felt so much older.
It had been easy to follow Hal. He had been right. She didn't understand the situation when she'd decided to join him. Hal was sworn to Sir Henri and had always been a faithful follower, but he couldn't exactly advertise that. Her presence had made things more legitimate. At least, that's how she justified things. If she was being honest, she mostly wanted to get out of the stronghold and see a bit of the world. The way Sir Guisse had talked about the whole thing it was a great big fuss over nothing. So why not go?
When she had first joined them she had immediately tried to set the pecking order in it's rightful place. She made no attempt to hide who she was. Why would she? They should have been grateful to have her along after all.
Hal had given her the worst dressing down of her life. Nobody had ever spoken to her that way. Not even her father at his most angry. He made her feel like a foolish child who understood nothing. She hated him for a while and was absolutely determined to out him for the arrogant fool he clearly was.
He was right. She hadn't understood at all. She'd been a fool then. She could have had a whole battalion accompany her if she'd wanted to. She should have. Maybe then they would have had a chance.
Now, she was out in the middle of nowhere. No soldiers anywhere near. Only xenophobic goblins and rugged dwarves living out on the ragged edge of the land, blissfully unaware of the horrors only a few hours away. She wanted to tell them. To warn them. She knew firsthand how useless that would be. The entire island was in danger, and she was the only Dwarf who knew it.
Now she knew what Hal must have felt like a few weeks and a lifetime ago.
She still only barely understood what was going on, and now the only person she trusted to make sense of it all was captured. Her only companions left were a gnome and two goblins. She knew that the goblins had their own stake in the fight, having to do with some kind of conflict between the goblin gods and the legacy of dead goblin kings, but that had little to do with her or her people.
Her people didn't care about goblin superstitions.
Ancient legacies, heroes in need of rescue, and the promise of gold, though. Dwarves cared a great deal about those things.
Hopefully she could find a few decent ones and convince them to follow her back into the dark.
Hal gave the ancient goblin a look filled with exasperation that bordered on contempt. "It must be handy to be able to walk through iron bars and cold stone like that." he said.
The goblin tossed something. Hal caught it. "Oh, it is." the goblin said, sounding amused.
Hal looked at the thing in his hand, his eyes slowly widening.
"You've gotta be f%@#ing kidding me," he muttered.
Miagnik was silent the first few hours of their journey. It felt as though everything had just shattered into dozens of pieces for the Goblin. Monsters he couldn't fight, there would-be allies all dead or missing, true allies leaving to deal with things outside. Hal being captured.
No, it didn't just shatter, things weren't going well for most of that. Hal was just the breaking point.
It was true he realized. Drawbacks had been a near constant since entering Outogal Hollow, or he supposed the Palace of the Vampire Queen, but somehow Hal had made it all stay together. He'd been distracted the entire time since entering there. The mysteries of the palace, rescuing the princess Stephanie and constantly fighting her angry little owl. Helping to save his personal hero Maelodakh that he'd only heard tales of from afar. Fighting with various undead and other monstrosities he'd learned about. Meeting the wise ghost King Heelggod. Learning about the mystery of the Vampire Queen beneath the tombs and uncovering a plot involving a Dwarf necromancer Omara and her co-conspirator Sir Guisse who was a noble among the Dwarves. His dreams of becoming the next goblin king and meeting demons!
Hallister was the one who'd kept them thinking straight and not getting caught up in all that. But then they'd gotten in over their heads and Hal had gotten captured.
Eventually his thoughts returned to rescuing Hal and Three Willows. They needed allies. He'd been assigned this mission to Hal, he'd never really thought about what was needed to bring people into such a dangerous place. Hal would have known, he was sure. He didn't know about Mixz or Chuffer, but maybe Moralane did too.
"Moralane... when we get to Three Springs... do you think we'll be able to find anyone who will want to help us go back there and save Hallister?
After everything I've learned, I don't think we'll be able to find many goblins willing to travel to Outogal Hollow. Also there's too many things going on with the loss of leadership and the infighting between the goddess Zeenthia and Rath'Zeen."
"I think you're right, Miagnik. The goblins have their own problems right now, and most of the ones who we might have been able to ask for help were just wiped out."
"Three Springs is still technically part of my father's territory. I might be able to invoke his name and get results. I've been really not wanting to do that, but that's because I wanted to be able to tell him that we did it all without his help. Right now, we need all the help we can get."
"There's a couple places we can ask around once we get to Three Springs. For the sake of speed, I think we should split up. I'll go to the Miner's Lantern. Chuffer, are you comfortable going to the Porker's Pants? It's not the most reputable place, but it's worth checking. I'll write you up a contract to offer that will hopefully get people's attention. "
"Miagnik, Mixz, you two can decide which of you is going with which of us."
Sitting at a table in the corner with low, flickering lights Baradesh placed his helm on the table and closed his eyes for a moment. It hadn't been a long day, but he still felt a certain level of exhaustion from simply existing. Of course his armour didn't really weigh a huge amount, or rather it didn't feel like much as he'd grown used to the suit after some time, but his body was a little stiff today.
He couldn't help but notice a few odd looks at his darkened skin and hair like thin strands of copper, but he was used to that. He looked odd, and people stared. It was how things worked. Still, it did stop him from enjoying the taverns pleasures - and the ones he was looking foward to were the meal and drink he had ordered before sitting.
Brolma lingers on the edges, open to conversation but it rarely happened. She is no beauty, she knows and her mannerisms and faith offer a certain intensity that invites the desperate but rarely the chatty. Such was the way of things.
The day had the flicker of something "more" and Brolma came to the tavern to see if she could put her finger on it. For now she sits and waits.
Sitting at a table in a tavern was Kurgan Kegstalker. A burly dwarf, even without his armor. Even here though, he had his Halberd. It was made by his grandfather’s father, and it meant the world to him. It was wrapped up with a peace cord to show his lack of hostile intention with it.
He downed the last of contents of his mug and then looked into it critically. Call this mead, did they? He’d drunk piss better than that. Literally. His brother thought it was really funny at the time. Well...he reflected...it wasn’t *that* bad. But it was still disgraceful. He focused on the mug, causing it to refill with water. He then grumbled a prayer, turning the water into mead. The nectar of the gods.
It was...passable. What he really needed, he reflected, was vampire dust. And not the weak goblin dung that could be gotten from a thrall. He needed the *real* deal. With that he could make a drink of legend. He was certain of it. The only thing was...how to get it? He figured that he’d have to go tomb raiding again chasing rumors. It was lonely and disappointing work. With a sign he returned to his drink. Fate. He thought to himself. It will come knocking, I am sure of it. I just hope it is this century.
1) It isn't at all a necessary thing, but if any of you want to have some sort of backstory tie to Sir Henri and the Vessocho family , or to Hallister himself, we could work that out.
As background, Sir Henri is a decent fellow who cares about his people. He has an awful lot of problems on his plate, so his attention is stretched thin. His usual solution is to send one of his Bondsmen off to investigate and deal with whatever is going on, or to bring back more information.
That's who Hallister is. Basically, he's a troubleshooter for the guy who runs the show in this area. He was a lot more prominent about 5 years ago, but then fell off the map for some reason. His older adventures involved things like hunting down ghoul nests, routing out cults, and investigating tombs. He's kind of a Dwarven Van Helsing. Every time Sir Henri sends him out his usual protocol is to gather a small group of competent people, promise them Sir Henri's money, and then go kill monsters. So, he has a decent sized list of people who have worked with him before.
2) Another option since there are quite a few new characters is that some of you are an existing adventuring party who know each other already. If any one of you is honor-sworn to Sir Henri, or has worked with Hal before, that might be a good way to hook the rest of your group into the fun.
Thoughts?
The old dwarf sat glumly at his table, sharp eyes watching the common room over the rim of his tankard. Why am I here?
Yesterday the wind that he'd followed from the coast died outside this bar. Since then he'd been sitting in this swill-room, nursing his ales until he sensed they'd throw him out if he didn't order another. After they'd kicked him out last night he'd slept out front, against the bar's wall, until they'd re-opened. At this point the barkeep wanted him gone just as much as he wanted to leave.
Thus far he'd ignored the occasional snide comment and taunt from the establishment's clientele. He was familiar enough with their kind from his days in the navy, and wouldn't rise to their baiting unless he felt legitimately threatened. I doubt Trembor brought me here to teach some country bumpkin respect for his elders. He took another sip of his brew and let out a sound, half sigh and half growl. At least a dockside joint would try and hide the fact that they've watered down their ale. He considered the inebriates around him and studied the contents of his mug with a frown. It seems to do the trick for them well enough. And while they may be a bunch of backward farmboys, they don't seem the sort prone to weakness in their cups. He glowered across the room at the barkeep, who returned his look.
Apparently I'm not here to get drunk, either.
"You say you don't necessarily want to use your father's name, Moralane? I don't know if I really understand why. Although come to think of it, it seemed like every time I tried to get to know you better Hal would always interrupt and get us back to the mission."
Miagnik seemed contemplative for a while then began to speak.
"Oh... okay. I think... I think I might understand why you didn't want to use your father's name. It's like Maelodakh. She's goblin royalty, but that's not why anyone knew of her. Maybe the heads of other clans would have recognized her but that would have only been at meetings. Instead she left her position and became known as a war hero who attracted a decently sized following. At least before she mysteriously disappeared." he said starting to smile at the memories of her spoken exploits.
"It was her reputation that made everyone know her, not her bloodline. In the capital city, Dwarves knew her as a menacing and bloodthirsty goblin barbarian queen who fought her own kind... after meeting her I can't say they were wrong, but to the Goblins of my tribe who paid more attention she was a hero who wouldn't bend the knee to old rules and oppression."
He paused again. " Hallister was pretty experienced. He didn't really talk about himself much but he might have his own reputation. We might be able to ask people about that too. I know that Dwarves are usually..." he stopped himself looking at her.
"Er, what I mean is, Dwarves in the capital city were often driven by monetary prospects... If that's the case, then maybe we should also stop by Dwarbon's home before we go to the taverns. Remember? He was holding all of those coins for us. We didn't really have a use for them at the time but now maybe we could use them to help get Hal back!" Miagnik was starting to get excited now and started nodding.
"And when we get there we can ask Dwarbon if he knows any Dwarves we should ask about who might be looking for work or who have a reputation for being strong." Even as he was speaking he began to pick up his pace.
Thunk...Thunk...Thunk...Thunk...Thunk
A relatively short, dark haired dwarf moved toward the target to recover the darts. After a couple days of recuperation, he was finally beginning to feel himself again. The twin black eyes were fading and his rib didn't feel nearly as cracked as the day before. Still though, despite feeling physically better, he did not engage socially with the others in the tavern.
I do not know them and they can't help me.
He passed on challenges at darts, he studiously ignored looks, he kept conversation short...if polite. So far he had been able to avoid any fights.
That probably won't last
He drank and ate with moderation.
Another day or two and I can head out...unless there's more work. But even then, I can't do it by myself.
Thunk...Thunk...Thunk...Thunk...Thunk
He absentmindedly rubbed the tattoo on the back of his hand and approached the target.
Yep...another day or two...
Barnabas sits at a table alone in the middle of the porker’s pants. He appears engrossed in conversation with a strange creature sitting on the table. The dwarf is nursing some sort of swill from a heavy iron tankard, his furry companion laps water from a stone helmet held between his forepaws. a barmaid who strays too close to the table relieves a deep growl from the wombat. Barnabas grabs Scruff by the scruff with his free hand.
”Hey now Scruff! No need to be snippy. She’s just doing her job, eat up and mind your manners.”
He slides a bowl of some sort of thick gruel to his friend, then turns to the barmaid.
”Apologies miss. He hates coming into town, puts him on edge.”
Crisis avoided Barnabas returns to his drink. Despite the rest of the tavern being crowded no one else has taken a seat at his table, the grizzled wombat having claimed it as his territory, to be shared only with his strangely clad friend. Barnabas is strangely clad indeed, he wears armor made from heavy stone plates. The gauntlets lay on the table, and the helmet currently serves as Scruff’s bowl. A stout scythe and a heavy pack lean against the table next to the pair.
20 gold coins? What could he have possibly sold for that much? Intrigued, the old sailor makes his way closer to the boastful drunk through the throng. And outsiders carrying some sort of chest? Perhaps some lost relic, sold by a fool who knew not it's true worth... Once alongside the blacksmith, he catches the dwarf's eye.
"Twenty gold coins? One gold coin, maybe. What could you have to sell worth even that much?"
There was something about the woman who darkened the door of the Miner's Lantern. She was attractive, but not a breathtaking beauty. She looked a bit ragged, but not in distress. She was armed, but didn't look like she was looking for a fight.
It was her bearing. She stood square and tall and moved with the effortless grace of someone who'd had to practice the art of being graceful for her entire life. She looked like she'd been living on the trail for weeks, but there was no mistaking her nobility.
It took her a moment to notice that the noise of the tavern had slowly quieted and that most eyes were on her. Coming to a decision in her mind, she moved to the small makeshift stage and stepped up onto it.
"My name is Moralane Vessocho, daughter of Sir Henri Vessocho. I seek capable warriors, hunters, explorers, priests and sages to aid me in a rescue attempt. A brave vassal of my father, one Halliser Silverspike has been captured by dark forces. I will be leaving at noon tomorrow. Should you choose to join me, your life will most assuredly be in danger. Any who go with me will be offered coin, and the gratitude of my House, upon our return."
"Anyone interested should meet Three Willow Park at dawn. Come prepared to show off your skills and ready to leave if you are chosen."
Then she held up a paper flier, stuck it to the wall with a dart pulled from the dartboard, and made her way through the crowd to order a drink.
Kurgan put down his drink and walked over to the flier and read it. He nodded, before he walked after Moralane. Seeing her at the bar and ready to order a drink, he said ”Hold, lass.” Grabbing an empty mug, he put it in front of her. Still holding it, it filled with water, and with a prayer it turned into mead.
”What kind of dark forces are we talking about?”
A voice in his head, probably his conscience, told Kurgan that he was denying the tavern it’s business. So, as he pushed the mug towards her, he also put five copper pieces on the counter for the establishment.
The Lantern was crowded, as was usual of late. At the bar, there was a chatty little dwarf with fire-red hair and a deeply inquisitive look to her eyes. She was nursing her wine cup like she had spent more copper than she could imagine on it, which of course she had. The nameless dwarf to her left was staring into his drink uncomfortably while she talked at him, as if he were disappointed that the alcohol wasn't making the experience more bearable.
When the dwarf noblewoman entered the tavern, the nameless dwarf was on his fourth drink, mumbling responses while trying his best to avoid her eyes, as if looking at her would just encourage her further. The fire-haired dwarf was still working on that same cup of wine, mostly because she barely had time to drink from it in between her nearly-constant words. The distraction provided a welcome reprieve for the nameless dwarf as Dinura perked up and hopped down lightly off the barstool. Her wine cup held carefully in both hands, as if she couldn't afford to spill any, she moved quickly but smoothly toward Moralane.
As she nears the noblewoman, she hesitates briefly, uncertainty flashing on her face.
What do you call the daughter of a Knight again?
Moralane glanced at the dwarf buying her a drink. She seemed grim and distracted. She put the mug to her lips with a quiet word of thanks and took a long pull. Her brows raised and she looked at the dwarf with the beer again.
"This is exquisite."
She took another drink and a great deal of the tension she was carrying left her body. Now she mostly looked sad. Unshed tears welled in her eyes but never quite spilled.
"Necromancers," she finally answered. "I'm afraid I won't go into more detail than that until tomorrow morning. This is jot the right setting for that discussion. Thank you for the drink."
Kurgan nodded. ”Nectar of the Gods. See ye tomorrow.” With that he turned and walked away.
Brolma simmered at the edges of the throng, So many souls desperate for some scant reprieve, adding to the chaos unknowingly...
She watches the newcomers, the "regulars", she nods at the priestess' words while harboring a small ember or knowing, Dennari will bring much but is her house in the youngest aspect immune to that which befell the nobles there? and finally Moralane.
Brolma considers her own capabilities...and her disposition. Adventuring could be...frustrating...but the simmering of tensions and the rescue of a lost soul. Symbols and portents to those who see such things.
The cleric resolved. She would go. She would watch still a bit here, to see if any other sign might present itself and then sleep until the ember of a new day flared to life.
The door to the tavern opened into the evening sky and standing in the entrance with the darkening sky behind him was a goblin. His clothes looked ragged, worn, and a little singed around the edges. The Goblin himself was strange to the eye as he appeared to have scales covering his hands and arms and face with a dull reddish hue.
He looked momentarily perplexed as he stared around at the otherwise packed inn, but he clenched his clawed hands and rubbed at an intricate copper bracelet on his wrist. Deciding to move toward the closest experienced looking Dwarves he began speaking without hesitation.
"Hey, you look like you know how to handle yourself in a fight. I'm in need of some people who aren't afraid to throw themselves into a dangerous line of work. I'm trying to save a friend of mine who was captured, he's a Dwarf named Hallister. He was taken by a big creature in a place called Outogal Hollow."
Agos turns his head, overhearing the nearby goblin's declarations.
Hallister? Why does that name sound familiar...
Beldain is on his way to the dartboard to retrieve another round of throws when he turns his head at the announcement.
Sounds like the guy got in over his head. I for one ain't letting that happen again.
He gives the goblin a long look. As awkward as Beldain is in the company of dwarves, it is that much worse with goblins. It's not a matter of trust, more just a lack of understanding of the little guys...mixed with poor social skills.
This guy doesn't look like much either. Pfft...Nice robes.
He chuckles to himself as he pulls the darts from the target.
Still though, what if this has something to do with the undead attack before...probably not though. And I do have to be on my way soon...
He grunts and then turns and shoulders his way near the goblin.
"You think people are just going to throw themselves at this little venture of yours? What else you got?"
As he talks, Beldain rarely makes eye contact and is subconsciously rubbing the tattoo on his hand.
Barnabas and Scruff eye the newcomer curiously. Draining the last of his tankard the stone clad dwarf stands up, and crosses the room to Miagnik. Scruff grabs the helmet in front of him greedily as his friend stands but calms when he sees that his beverage is not in any danger.
Approaching the goblin "What in the world were you doing out there? What'd you get yourselves into that this Hallister got himself captured?"
gesturing with his thumb at Beldain. "And he's right, not many will throw themselves into danger with out a little more incentive. Although with a gripping enough tale I might find myself swayed. Not like there's much else to do."
Moralane gave the bartender a slightly surprised look. She seemed a bit judgemental but in truth she was happy for the distraction.
"Wait... you own a drinking establishment, your patrons are wanting a particular drink, and the person who makes it is right in front of you..." she trailed off, hoping the barkeep would fill in the blanks himself.
"I suppose how you run your business is none of mine." she shrugged.
Hal's locked up somewhere in that hell hole and I'm slumming it up in a tavern having drinks and playing middleman between a brewer and a bartender who seem to be in competition for who is the island's worst businessman.
Baradesh opened his eyes, focusing them on the strange confrontation at the bar. It seemed odd that the owner didn't simply hire the man if he could create drinks that the bar could not replicate, and would give the man a job, which he seemed to not have. Still, you couldn't sell something in someone else's place of business.
The young fire-haired dwarf finally moved up to Moralane and began to move a hand forward perhaps to offer a handshake, but noticed that it was still occupied with her wine cup so she abruptly downed the remainder of the wine and set the cup on the bar. Her hands finally free, but her confidence a bit undermined by her silly predicament, Dinura opted for a farm-girl curtsy instead, followed by a barely intelligible rush of words. "Lady Vessocho, my name is Dinura Copperkeep and I'm not a sage or a hunter or an explorer or a priest or a warrior, really, but I'm an engineer and I'm really good at solving problems, that's why I'm in charge of maintaining the well, and I can..." Out of breath, the young dwarf was forced to pause, but the swiftness with which she breathed in was almost impressive, though it made the pause woefully short. "...I can read and write and I'm very thorough, I can do anything you need, I promise I'm up to the challenge, I really am, did you need someone to go with you right now? I'm not busy and I know you're not leaving until tomorrow but I can take notes of the people who are interested if you want and we can organize them by their skillset and... oh I don't know how much you're paying everybody but we can work that out later... oooh, I'm so excited! You'll take me, say you'll take me, won't you?"
Finally, the young dwarf paused long enough for Moralane to respond.
That’s Enough! the other dwarf snarls and yanks his brother out of his chair. Listen, friend, the second dwarf addresses Agos. My name is Falsonn, and this is my brother, Roarke, and we don’t want any trouble. There are rough folk in town these days. We run an honest shop, and we don’t need anyone bothering Dwarbon or bringing the Sheriff down on us.
"Then I'll bother you no more." Agos bows his head to Roarke and steps away as the pair begin to make their exit. He steps up alongside the growing group of dwarves expressing interest in the goblin. For the moment he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to overwhelm him.
Wasn't there a Hallister involved with some troubles about twenty years back? What his name - Hallister Sylvanbite? Slaverpike? Sliverstrike...?
Moralane eyed the talkative young woman for a while, thinking, then asked "Are you willing to risk death to rescue someone you don't know?"
Miagnik glanced around at the Dwarves who were now beginning to gather around him.
Right... Maybe I should have explained it better... Wouldn't Hal would be mad if I said too much? But Hal's not here...
"Uh, well you see the reason we were out there was..."
No wait. What if he gets really mad? Hal didn't like it when I told too many things he considered secrets.
He began to look worried and stopped talking for a few seconds, but as the Dwarves began to stare down at him looking for solid reasons to join he shook his head.
No, I need to save him!
"The reasons are less important now. Hal said, well his full full name is Hallister Silverspike, there was something about working for a Lord Henri Vessocho. His daughter, Moralane, she's also in town now. We were told to investigate Outogal's Hollow because of the rumors of Undead monsters. They were true! There were undead and other monsters and some necromancers too. They made some of their own, but we fought them and killed them. Well some of them and..." The Goblin stopped himself short this time. Hoping he hadn't scared them off.
"There's a lot more to explain along, but if you want incentive... " Miagnik said with an understanding nod. "We can pay you."
Silverspike! That was it.
Agos listens grimly to the goblin's tale, the certainty of his god's purpose settling upon him.
"I am Agos, servant of the Great Father," he informs Miagnik in a tone of resignation. "I will help you."
Brolma watches Moralane from the edges (as best she can. The cleric had resolves to go to the meeting in the morning but a simple observation of the employer might net something of interest. Brolma is content to let things unfold without any overt intervention on her part.
Moralane eyed the talkative young woman for a while, thinking, then asked "Are you willing to risk death to rescue someone you don't know?"
The young dwarf's innocent optimism was shining through her expression as she smiled cheerfully at Moralane. "Well, it's the right thing to do, isn't it? We can't leave Brave Hallister to his dire fate, can we? Besides, if we bond together as heroes, we're sure to survive. It'll be just like in the stories!"
Dinura swept her arm in a grand gesture as if introducing a play. "Noble Lady Vessocho and her companion, the Capable Dinura Copperkeep venture toward doom itself to rescue Brave Hallister from certain death! I can hear the songs now!"
The fire-haired dwarf was clearly ready for adventure. Whether she was prepared for the cold reality ahead of her remained to be seen, however.
Miagnik nodded at Agos, completely missing his tone of resignation. Enthused that the Dwarf had readily agreed to join him after hearing some of what he'd said.
"Agos, thank you! My name is Miagnik. You say you're a servant of the Great Father?"
Recognition shot across his face.
"Oh, Trembor, right? I read about him once. He's the protector of the Archipelago. That means you're a Cleric!" He smiled. "We had a Cleric with us. His name was Windel but he followed Praggul Strongfist. He was always grumpy and saying things like He wasn't very good at healing, but he was really good at destroying the undead. He also really didn't like spiders... heh" Miagnik's voice dropped and his smile disappeared toward the end. "Things got a lot harder after he and Rownig left. I think Hallister was sad to see them leave."
He looked pointedly at Agos but also to the other's who were still around. His voice turned much graver.
"A lot of our allies who came with us have left, disappeared, or are dead. This isn't for anyone who is just looking to make easy coin it's bigger than that... but you will be well paid. If you change your mind I'll understand but there is a lot to be gained from joining us."
It was not hard to overhear the conversation at the bar. Sometimes it was more difficult to not. But Baradesh heard enough to sigh slightly and pick up his helmet, moving to the bar the Miner's Lantern. "Apologies for listening in, but did you wished to arrange a rescue?" The bulky Paladin considered such missions important, needed work.
"I think I've heard enough."
Barnabas extends a stone clad hand.
"the name's Barnabas. We'll lend you a hand. Its been a while since I've dealt with the undead but I think I can be some help. When do we leave?"
Moralane nodded slowly at Dinura's enthusiasm. "You remind me of a friend of mine." she said with a small, slightly sad smile. "Show up tomorrow morning at the park."
Glancing to the bulky newcomer she said "Yes, that is the plan. No apologies necessary. I'm just glad I'm being listened to at all."
"Bel..."
Her face was so young then. Back in those days it was just the two of them and their mother.
"Bel...?"
This time her face was twisted in fear. Several gray forms closed in, surrounding her.
"Run, Bel!"
In a moment, Beldain is back in the tavern, breathing a bit heavier and subconsciously rubbing his chest.
Hmm. Undead. And Necromancers. There is no choice then.
Still mostly avoiding eye contact with the goblin he says, "Why will this time be different for you?"
"Bel..."
Her face was so young then. Back in those days it was just the two of them and their mother."Bel...?"
This time her face was twisted in fear. Several gray forms closed in, surrounding her.
"Run, Bel!"
In a moment, Beldain is back in the tavern, breathing a bit heavier and subconsciously rubbing his chest.
Hmm. Undead. And Necromancers. There is no choice then.
Still mostly avoiding eye contact with the goblin he says, "Why will this time be different for you?"
"Bel..."
Her face was so young then. Back in those days it was just the two of them and their mother."Bel...?"
This time her face was twisted in fear. Several gray forms closed in, surrounding her.
"Run, Bel!"
In a moment, Beldain is back in the tavern, breathing a bit heavier and subconsciously rubbing his chest.
Hmm. Undead. And Necromancers. There is no choice then.
Still mostly avoiding eye contact with the goblin he says, "Why will this time be different for you?"
The simple question rocked the Goblin back onto his heels. His growing enthusiasm at gaining another companion halted. It was something he had not considered even a little.
Why will this time be different? Am I going to lead these Dwarves to their capture just like Hal? Or will they die?
His magic had washed over the Golem last time. None of the group had been strong enough to break it. Would any of this be different?
Miagnik's shoulder's slumped down and it was his turn to avoid the gaze of the Dwarf speaking to him. "Well... we know more now about what we are up against. Hallister was our leader during the expedition for the most part. Part of what we learned was that we were up against a time limit of sorts and he didn't want to wait for it to run out.
Even when we'd lost some of our group and the rest of us were reaching our limits he kept pressing us forward. Eventually our luck ran out when we met with another guardian creation of the necromancers. It was some sort of bone... golem. Magic washed off of it and it was incredibly resilient. That's why we need help."
He finally looked back up at the Dwarf. His determination starting to return to his eyes.
Don't think about what might happen later. Convince them now!
Miagnik's eyes widened as though he'd just remembered several things. "There were others besides Hallister that were taken before. The room we'd found with the golem, I'd only gotten a quick glance at it but there were cages with others in them. It's not just about rescuing Hal. We'd saved a few others from before, it's possible that a few may have passed through here in the last few weeks. But there was more too.
There were a handful of weapons we'd found too. A few were magically imbued and one was made of adamantine, I think. We didn't use them because we didn't have many people left who knew how or even could use them effectively. There are a few other things we can do before going out. But the most important thing we need are hardy people willing to fight monsters."
The old dwarf's expression doesn't change as he listens to Miagnik prattle on about old allies, nor as he attempts to explain his plan for rescue. When the goblin is done talking, he simply nods his head. "Very well, Miagnik. Where and when should we meet you and your allies?" He turns a dour eye upon the dwarf with the acid-scarred face. "Those of us of a mind to do so, that is."
"Uh, there's a park. It's where Moralane said we'd be meeting. I didn't actually learn where it is but it shouldn't be hard to find. We're meeting there tomorrow. After I'm done here, I'll meet up back with her and let her know about how many I expect to be coming. We'll also need to resupply. I'll probably do some of that tonight but I imagine we'll need to get all those who join us gear too."
He talks a lot. That will get old. Oh well.
”You are in luck, goblin. It just so happens that I need to be taking my leave of this place. Seeing as how you are my only offer, I will be there. I can also promise you that I will see this through...until Mafolin comes.”
As he says this last bit, for the first time, Beldain is staring Miagnik straight in the eye.
”And what do I call you?”
The sudden intensity of the Dwarf pulled the goblin's attention. But it was the phrase he'd said that made him regard the Dwarf anew.
Mafolin?
"Miagnik... and you? What's your name?"
"Bel...Beldain Rockdust."
He is once again rubbing the outside of his left hand with his right. Abruptly he stops, and awkwardly shoves his right hand out to shake hands.
His hand feels damp and clammy.
He turns to the cleric and says, "How about you old timer. What do they call you?"
He does not offer his hand to the cleric.
"I am Agos Cheimón." He turns back to Miagnik. "I will await you and yours at this park. Until tomorrow, then." He looks at each of the other dwarves and briefly holds their gaze, as if taking some measure of them, before nodding to himself and making his way towards the exit.
How many parks can this Three Willows have?
Barnabas turns to leave waving a hand over his head as he walks to his table. "I'll be there Miagnik."
He pours the contents of his helm on the floor and plops it on his head, Scruff lets forth a growl as his bowl is taken away but is silenced by a stern look. Taking his pack and scythe from the ground Barnabas heads for the door, Scruff plops down on the ground behind him and waddles away as well.
He stops and turns at the door. "I hope to see you all bright and early. It seems we've quite the quest ahead of us!"