Kiril finds himself deep in a game of cards with three Kobolds, and he is winning, with a stack of copper coins growing in front of him. He is a bit surprised when Kristyd arrives, arm and arm with an old dwarven man who leans heavily on a thick gnarled walking stick.
Flint is still negotiating with the barmaid about what he might offer the evening’s entertainment, while Kayne has found a comfortable table, with only one chair near the stairs to the second floor.
But where are Brunar, Gwendolyn, and Sandy?
The evening seems pleasant, and before you realize the time, a pair of young dwarven men, with beard braided and tucked into their shirts come out on the stage. Between them they haul a barrel which seems to be overfilled with clubs of various sizes, rings of copper, fat leather balls, and several long handled knives.
The pair bow, and without introduction quickly pull out several props from the barrel and with a few softly spoken cues to each other, face off and begin a very impressive display of juggling.
Kayne stifles a sigh as he sees some of his companions already in the place once he arrives in the main hall. I suppose I had all the respite I could expect. Still, he manages to find a table for one and takes his seat, settling in and hoping at least for a pleasant theatrical production. It soon becomes apparent no such luck is at play this evening, though, and with another sigh, the warlock leans back. Although you have to admit, their agility is impressive.
When Kiril sees Kristyd with the old man, he immediately suspects it's who he's been waiting to talk to.
He shoves over his stack of coins towards the kobolds, "Drinks on me," and walks quickly over to intercept the pair.
"Kristyd, good to see you again. This man stealing you from me?" he asks jokingly.
"What I do? Well, miss..." he says with a bit of a smile. Not his usual, arrogant smirk. This is more of a calming a smile, a gentle appreciation, like someone who had been long awaiting Spring experiencing the bloom of flowers.
"... I am not a juggler, though I'm sure I could struggle through it had I a mind to. I dabble in music and song, though I hesitate to call myself a musician. Stage magic... Gives me ideas, to be fair. But no, I wouldn't consider myself any such thing as you have listed."
"I am a traveler, Miss. I accompany adventurers, heroes and villains. I don't join them merely as a chronicler of their stories, but fight shoulder to shoulder with them. I remember their deeds. I tell their stories. Not just any stories, but real stories. Stories earned by blade and wit. I am not an entertainer in the way any of those others are, I entertain by telling stories of the road. I tell stories of ships and of cellars, of dungeons drafty and dark."
He gives a look over to the shadowy figure of Kayne, uncertain what the warlock would make of what he is about to say, were he to overhear.
Flint had tried to tell his stories, glorifying himself. It didn't work, though the damned elves might be to blame for this. No, Flint would take a different tactic in his art. He would make it about everyone BUT him.
"Not a week ago has passed since my companions fought together to slay a troll. I offer to tell this story." He knows full well he didn't specify if his group succeeded in slaying the beast or not. That's his catch.
Finally he let his normal fierce grin onto his face. He pulls out his purse, and counts out 5, scared and road-dirty golden coins into his hand. He holds them out for her to inspect. "I also wish to sleep as a king tonight. It's been a rough few days."
flint hoped the dwarf woman would look at flint again, taking in his mud stained boots, his battle scared armor, and his assortment of weapons strapped to his traveling pack and his hips.
Before the show actually starts…
The dwarven woman begins listening to Flint with a sort of mild disinterest
Until he mentions his Adventures and she immediately perks up
When he is finished, she leans close to him and whispers into his ear
The Kobolds all give Kiril a “thumbs up” (a common gesture given by happy Kobolds) when he leaves the table
When Kiril greats Kristyd, she smiles a big, warm smile, and introduces her companion
This is Bardral Hauthorveen, or Bar Dee, he likes to be called. When I heard you might nbe looking for him I remembered that we had met before, a few month back when I passed through Cipenny with my employer. He was…
The old dwarf steps in front of Kristyd and scowls at Kiril, saying loudly enough for everyone near to hear him, even getting a stare from the jugglers on stage
Stealing! Don’t be as daft as you are tall, feller-would-be. This gal’s my date. She came in with me and unless ye can carry me out by the beard she’s going out the door with me when the lamps are turned.
Kiril laughs loudly, "I imagine she'll do what she likes. I hear you're a war hero. Fought ogres. I'm just starting out, got plenty of strength but not much experience fighting monsters. If I buy you some drinks you willing to share stories of the Knokhound Regiment?"
Flint raises his eyebrows at the mention of the name Waglinde. It was familiar, but he couldn't quite remember why.
He gives the dwarf woman a nod, her secretiveness interesting him.
"Right. So, does my room come with anything to eat and drink?"
The old dwarf beams at Kiril
Now you’re showing your wits lad. Get us a table, and fetch the mugs. I’ll tell you how to make make an ogre cry
The dwarven woman smiles and curtseys to Flint, saying
I will make up the Duke’s room, our best suite, and yes it comes with an open bar and all you can eat.
Flint smiles, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "I hope it isn't just my being a halfling that makes you comfortable offering me all I can eat and drink..." he trails off, his eyes drifting over to where the kitchens might be.
"If I order from you, I'll have whatever is hot and ready, and your favorite ale!" He then gives his goodbyes and walks toward a nearby table to grab a seat. If Kayne seems open, he'll sit with him, otherwise he'll just sit near his table.
He'll eat and drink himself full, eagerly ordering whatever she's got to serve, and her recommended drinks. He orders to get a good sampling of everything this place has to offer. Adventurers and sailors both might pay money for the recommendation of good places to unwind between jobs.
"It's a deal."
Kiril gets a table and orders a few rounds of drinks for the three of them. He starts off sharing the story of their group taking down the troll.
"--it was a strong coordinated effort for a group flung together so recently. Can't say I'm not proud of the work," it's clear he already has a strong attachment to the group despite being near-strangers. Brothers (and sisters) in arms.
If your heart still calls for you to travel the wild places spreading the good nature and beauty of the daughters of Wyuddenllwyn then it might be best for you to keep your heart focused on the teachings of Mevbol.
Brunar looks slight confused ...
"Aye Matron, don't ye mean Yerina? For now, I go with me fellowship including the Priestess from Mevbolla to recover artifacts. Afterwards, I'll reconsider settlin' down or not. Who should I see to further me training and resupply? There wasn't much treasure from the latest expedition unless me fello's are holdin' out on me. I may need to be a little more outgoing in finding treasure to tithe the next time I return?"
When Flint is through with the dwarven woman, she assures him that a large plate and a pint of the finest draught in the house will be delivered to whatever table he decides to sit down at.
At that, Flint looks around and sees Kiril sitting at a large round table with Kristyd and an old dwarven gentleman, and there are two available chairs at that table.
Suddenly the jugglers finish their act, to loud, but not uproarious, applauds, and as the stage is being cleared, a young dwarven man to the left of the stage, at a front facing table, stands with some difficulty, and shouts
Send out that son of a b%+%* that thinks he’s a girl, BWA ha ha,I need to remember how stupid human folk really are!
Meanwhile…
The dwarven priestess of Yerina, looks at Brunar with a strangely puzzled look on her face, and says
Isn’t that what I said? Anyway, for the night get some rest if you can, but in the morning you should look for me and I will guide you through the rituals that will show our goddess nature and gifts. As for supplies, if you are still determined to rescue the dwarven princess, then I will search the storerooms to see if there is anything you might find useful.
Flint sits with Kiril and Kristyd, and eyes the dwarf gentleman.
"Who's this?" Flint asks, leaning toward Kiril and not whispering in the slightest.
"This is Bardral Hauthorveen, war hero. I was trying to ply some stories from him with ale. Bar Dee, this is Flint, the halfling we fought the troll with."
Flint hesitates for a moment, not quite absorbing the introduction.
"Wait, you mean I could have told you stories for free drinks?!" Flint asks, almost disappointed in himself.
He turns his attention to Bardral. "Hey. Flint of Iron." he grins with his usual bravado.
Then he gives Kristyd a grin and a nod, and then starts looking around for his food and drink, intent on sampling a bit of everything he gets with gusto.
Isn’t that what I said?
Brunar nods in agreement out of respect for the High Priestess, "I will get some rest and meet you early in the morning. And if you do have anything to assist me until I either find more treasure to cover costs or the Princess, that would be most helpful High Priestess?!" Brunar retires at the the monastery for the night to make sure he meets with the High Priestess early in the morning before public rituals take place. If he returns to his fellow adventurers or Sandy tonight, he may be up to late to either make the rituals and/or gather the supplies on time. Brunar whispers to himself, "I will catch up with them in the days to follow."
The belligerent drunken dwarf is hustled out of the theater.
Kiril and Flint spend the evening sharing stories with the old dwarven veteran, who occasionally gets out of his chair to show Kiril the proper way to stand when delivering a killing blow
Kayne finds the evening’s entertainment common, but well presented.
When Waglinde takes the stage she is dressed in green and gold, with black boots, and feathers in her hair. She plays a twelve stringed mandolin, and sings songs about lovers and poets staring across the sea.
Brunar retires to a small cell in the temple and rests peacefully.
The rest of the night is uneventful, and the rooms you retire to are clean, warm, and quiet.
Day 9; Saturday, approximately 7:00 am: It is the 29th of Svafgunum, the sixth month of the twelve month calendar year (the beginning of autumn)*
Kiril wakes with a hangover and goes to buy some breakfast, the greasier the better, and waits for the others to regroup.
Brunar wakes up as soon as the sun hits his face and hurries to get ready for private rituals. He does some last minute checking to make sure everything is straight, cleaned, and repaired before running down to the worship hall for the rituals.
After the rituals, he will ask the High Priestess for the supplies to continue on to find the princess, promising to pay back, and tithe the rest.
Still stuffed full and a hung over from the night before, Flint rolls over several times before falling gracelessly from the bed and onto the floor.
He stretches, gets dressed, and drinks his weight (emptying his skins) in water before coming down to see what would be served for breakfast.
"Uwaa..!" Flint belches like a sailor as he walks by Kiril. He takes a seat nearby.
"Anything good?" He orders whatever whatever the house recommends, but with several strips of bacon.
Kiril slides a wooden bowl of bread rolls over. "So you and Waglinde hook up? Who was on top?" He shovels several 'Flints' worth of food into his gullet.
"Where the f$~$ in Brunar..." Kiril grumbles "We're going back today, right? Still got more shitty dark hellhole to clear out."
Flint chews his food at Kiril's suggestion of a tryst with Waglinde.
"She better not be stealing our adventures as her own, let me tell you." he says over a mouthful of food.
Day 9; Saturday, approximately 7:00 am: It is the 29th of Svafgunum, the sixth month of the twelve month calendar year (the beginning of autumn)*
Flint, Kiril, and Kayne gather together in the dining room of the Inn/Theater, where they are served hot rolls with coffee, eggs with a creamy, yellow, tangy lemon sauce, and thin slices of smoked ham. Kirstyd, Sandy, and Gwendolyn join them while they are eating, and after the three woman share a few short whispers, Sandy stands up, wipes her mouth and asks
So, what is the plan? All of us are willing to continue to be part of your team, as long as you are willing to have us. But at this time we think it’s probably important to discuss how any treasure found on the next foray into the mountain should be divided. I, for my part, am still hoping that you will help me search for any clue to the missing companions I told you about, while Gwendolyn believes that there are still four or maybe five soldiers unaccounted for from her company. We feel that each f us is deserving of an equal share of treasures we might find. What are your thoughts. And when will we be setting out for the mountain top once again?
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Kiril nods, "You all did great, I'd love to have you along with again. I have a feeling it's only going to get more dangerous in there."
He looks to Kayne.
When Kiril admits he is glad to have their company, all the dwarven women smile at each other, and Kristyd blushes.
We should make sure we have plenty of sacks, and rope to tie them up with, before we head back up the mountain.
"Now hold on a second." Flint says, puckering his lips slightly over the lemon sauced eggs.
He points with the spoon he had been stirring his coffee with while rereading some notes he had scribbled down at the edge of his table. Crosslegged on the seat, his head visible at the edge of the table, he points his spoon at Sandy while stabbing a bit of ham with his fork in his other hand.
"I'm not splitting the treasure with any of those other soldiers, we're rescuing them! What did they do to earn treasure?" He demands, completely missing the point, yet apparently not having any complaint with the women getting a cut.
He bites the ham off of his fork, his pointing spoon demanding an answer.
Brunar thanks the high priestess for her and the temple's generosity. Once finished with the rituals, he packs up his gear, places the ring on his right finger instead of his left, says his goodbyes, and heads to Inn/Theater with a smile on his face.
A well provisioned Brunar walks into the dining room overhearing the conversation, "Aye Flint, I doubt Sandy means dividin' thee treasure up to those who we rescue for that is their payment. If those we rescue need any generosity, that is our job as priests but donations from helpful others, such as yerself, would be grateful and it doesn't take much to get the unfortunate back on them feet. However, among us, we should divide thee treasure evenly." He smiles and winks at Sandy. "I received some provisions from my order to help us along in our goals in the castle and catacombs."
The morning seems to drag, and time is moving at a snail’s pace. It is still well before noon, and the party is finished with breakfast, packed, and ready to leave the inn/theater – but how soon will they head for the Black Village?
"Dont know about you lot, but I'm ready. Let's get back in there."
Kiril has his pack on and ready to set out immediately.
Brunar looks at everyone and raises his axe while speaking, "Aye, I am ready!"
"Yah..." Flint says, belching over his meal. He chats up the chef and tries to charm I final large portion of breakfast to-go before leaving, as part of his previous night's lavish fee for the room and food.
"So, missing soldiers eh? Wonder where that lot is being kept."
Brunar nods in agreement,
"Aye, we need to find 'em and there are more prestigious Dwarves in that forsaken place that we have to hopefully find. And hopefully in good Dwarven health, and not cursed nor dead!"
It’s a downright jolly excursion, as the party sets out from Cipenney, bound for the Black Village and the c0omfort of the Loamstone Hovel. Kiril sets the pace, with long, but slow strides, taking in the cool, morning air. Flint and Brunar follow close behind, flanked by Sandy, Kirstyd, and Gwendolyn, while Kayne follows a good thirty paces behind, his nose buried in a book relying on the dedication of his donkey to guide him along after the others.
After about an hour, following a well-travelled road, the party comes to a small tumbledown creek, and a little, wooden bridge. Once across the bridge the group turns north, following a smaller foot path that branches off the road. The path follows the creek for a while, but when the little creek turns to the northeast, the path turns the opposite way, to the northwest, aiming for the base of the mountains.
Drawing closer to the foothills below the mountain range, the path gradually turns to the right, and the burnt out buildings of the Black Village can be seen just ahead.
But something is different. Something is wrong. Grey and black smoke rises from the village.
Without saying a word, the party quickens their pace, breaking eventually into a run, all of them. The run past the fence on the left, the few ruined cottages on the left and right, and then come to a stop, where the ruined inn stands near the center of this dark abandoned village.
The stairs that once stood at the ruined inn are now a shouldering wreck; the door to the hovel is torn from its frame and lies askew across the opening that leads down into the hovel. Grey smoke rolls out of the opening, and obscures the hero’s ability to see below. But lying on the last step is the burnt body of a small kobold warrior. His features are unrecognizable, but he wears charred leather armor, and in his right hand is a burnt small spear.
"The f!@@ing hells!" Kiril bellows, barreling straight down into the smoke and heat as far as he can stand, trying to look for anyone still alive.
"Hey, anyone alive!?" he shouts between coughs.
"Ah, storms!" Flint shouts. "Survivors, check for survivors!"
He shouts, giving a 1d6 bardic inspiration di to Sandy, Kirstyd, Gwendolyn and Brunar.
He then casts heroism on Kiril...
temp HP and fearlessness.
... as he runs in with Kiril.
Brunar bellows, "Stick ye together as ye check for survivors! Non of us need to become undead or a feast ourselves! That is if this was done by the dead?" Brunar follows Kiril and Flint in keeping his shield and axe at the ready, or hammer if need be.
Kiril charges down the stone steps into the common room of the hovel. Thick black smoke rolls around, embers can be seen glowing in the fireplace to the right, while the tables that once stood to the left are knocked over and pushed against the far wall and show signs that they are smoldering and might at any minute catch fire. Two kobolds lie dead in the center of the room, their bodies appear to be partially burned but also show injuries consistent with melee.
Flint and Brunar follow right behind the big man, waiting for any answer to Kiril’s cries. Sandy, Kristyd, and Gwendolyn stay at the top of the stairs with Kayne.
Through the faint crackle of the smoldering fire, in the distance off to the right, Kiril hears a female kobold voice cry out,
Help!
Kiril charges off down the right corridor, searching for the voice.
"Here! Are you stuck? Where are you?" He shouts.
Flint will follow and give advantage to Kiril's checks, as he helps the half-orc search for survivors.