Last night went very well. I may have found a key to the Architect. If we're taking the same path back, I'd like to stop by and see what we can do about it.
Sharla stumbles downstairs, and collapses at the table. "Food please." She says, before slumping down on the table with her head in her arms. "And some coffee."
|
Varus nods. "The man seemed quite knowledgeable about all things dangerous, and was eager to make a difference...especially if there was coin involved. A strong back for our items of pillage and another sword-arm for the worst case scenario seems good.
Um, on our way out did we want to see the man about his twin?"
A dwarf walks into The Cup, wearing leather armor, equipped with a club, a crossbow, and a large traveling pack. A small quiver of a half dozen arrows is strapped to one thigh.
He gives a look around the room, easily spots the table of adventurers, and approaches.
"Good morn." he says simply, looking at each person. He gives a nod to Varus, the one face he recognizes. "This yer group, eh? I hear you lot might be killing some orcs. Good! If I can help, I will. So long as you've got the coin you mentioned."
You're served your ordered food and drink, with the exception of Coffee which this remote mountain town apparently doesn't often get.
"Thanks Galenus." Sharla says, taking a nice bowl of porridge with steamed apples.
"Sooo... Dwarf. How much money do you want for this little adventure?"
"Himalt, Miss." the dwarf corrects, standing patiently at the table.
"Two gold a day seems fair for me to risk my life helpin' you."
"Mmm." Sharla says, her mouth full of food. "But, Himalt, you're only carrying our stuff. You don't really have to do any fighting unless we go down, which isn't very likely. What about pushing it down to a gold a day, and we'll pay to get you a simple meal each day?"
Galenus chimes in, in addition, some of us are trained in the arcane arts. So we'll have more capabilities than the trivial campaigners.
Himalt gives it a long, hard think. "Hmm... Alright. I'll do it for a gold on the first day, but if things start getting too dicey, I may change my mind for the second." He says. "When do we head out?"
"What about now?" Sharla replies. She looks around at the others, "You guys have anything you want to do before we leave? WAIT!" She yells out, startling everyone. "Jus' a minute!" She runs out of the inn.
Sharla heads for Andy's Arms and Armour, and picks up her studded leather suit. She quickly changes, and heads back. "Sorry bout that," She says, out of breath, "I don't want to go into battle unarmoured."
I'm ready now.
|
|
The group, having, through a series of wachy hijinks, found themselves back in the taproom of the inn, calmly makes their way through another jug of the deep red wine they've becomes so familiar with.
Varus speaks up, ""Did I ever tell you of my first real campaign? High-Father Joakim had agreed to dispatch a company of Doomsealers to the Ironhide Hills, to crush a war band of SteelClaw orcs that had overstepped their bounds and raided farmsteads in earnest.
Though a mere hundred of us marched, the wagon train of provisions and fodder stretched back on the road 'till it crossed the horizon. At every village on our path everyone, from elders without teeth to farm girls, bouncing in their simple frocks, came out to shake our hands and litter our path with sweet-scented flowers, or offer hard-crusted bread and tough salted pork or even an earthenware pitcher of good clean water to wash the dust of the road from our throats.
Throughout the campaign, a steady caravan brought bread fresh-baked from local ovens and news from home. Acolyte Rufus was granted leave to see his first son born, and StormCleric Arrian was raced home when his grandfather, a warlord in his day, fell to his deathbed.
As we marched home, the corpses of the greenskins rotting at our backs, along the track we were showered in kisses and gratitude. Not a one of us did not feel a hero in a bard's epic, and each man knew what good was done that day."
Varus takes a fortifying sip. "I suppose my hope here is that I can return to my order with another such tale, but this time secure on the knowledge that 'twas mine own efforts that did reap the victory, and 'twas not just a cog in a mighty host."
Anders is anxious to get back to the Orcs.
We need to quit leavin' the enemy every time we get in a fight. It is takin' us way to long and gives the enemy a chance to regroup. Can we get back, now?
Galenus walks through the dirty streets, breathing in the morning air with eagerness in his heart. They were pursuing two agendas today, both his own ideas and plans. He was happy that his companions allowed him to follow his pursuits - unlike the administration back at the college. Those fools kicked him out for following "improper" lines of research. There is no improper line of research! he thought to himself as he recalled his own past.
But now! Now they were headed to speak to the brothers - well, the one brother - for the other was dead out in the forest, speared to a tree and enchanted with a magical trap.
Speaking of which, we should discuss this.
Friends, we are on our way to speak to one Mr. Asher. Martin Asher. Good dwarf, do you know anything of him? He was here with his brother, Shaemus, who went missing a short time ago. I believe we found Shaemus out in the woods. According to the word around town, Martin has been reluctant to speak of it. We go now to try to get him to speak and see if we can help.
And after that, he thought, We go back to the Architect's Crypt to see if this family heriloom will bypass the magical protections!
Sharla is feeling good. She has new armour, and breakfast was delicious. Simple pleasures like this have made her day better already.
"Martin Asher? Sounds like a plant. Should we tell him his brother is dead? Or do you think he already knows?"
I think that may be the purpose of the visit, no? Break the bad news.
"I know none more than you have already said. The two were generally private. Martin would sometimes socialize with the towns folk at the Cup, but I rarely saw Sheamus. I'm curious to tell the truth. You need me to follow with? You're paying for the day,after all. "
|
|
Varus nods at Himalt. "Aye, we'll most like head straight out as soon as we're done with that, so do come along.
Sharla, we're not sure, but 'twould make no use to see the man and be coy. Let us at least make sure he is aware, and 'tis most like he does not know since we but stumbled across the corpse randomly in the woods.
Mmmmph, Anders, we do not disengage willy-nilly, but only when we are spent in power and rich in wounds. As a LifeCleric, 'tis my duty to keep you alive, but I can not do so against an army. We are but few, and they many, so to hit and run and return 'tis the only way. Unless you would prefer your current station to one inside an orc stewpot."
Varus knew he was putting caution before glory, but as a LifeCleric 'twas his duty to due so. Leave the songs of the charge to WarClerics and StormClerics and their stomping iron-shod boots.
Anders spits.
Riiiiight... Well let's go break the bad news and get back to killin' orcs, eh? After all, we have Scales to recover, right?
The party, walking down the roads of Wyatt Peak and talking plans, head toward the home of the Ashers.
The home is a modest one, a small stream of smoke emanating form the chimney. The windows are shuttered and blocked by drawn curtains. It looks like it could house two only if these two were used to living in close quarters with each other.
Outside the home, a couple of chickens peck around the dirt dear the doorstep.
Sharla shifts into the form she used before while with Galenus, and does her best to look vaguely intimidating, so that he is more 'willing' to talk. She walks up and slams her hand on the door. She says in gruff and gravelly voice, "Martin Asher! Are you home!?"
Anders stands next to Sharla's transformation, also looking very intimidating with his massive axed sheathed upon his back and hulking frame.
Galenus clasps his hands behind his back and let's Sharla take the lead on this one. As the others are trying to be a little intimidating, he places a smile on his face to look reassuring.
The young man was quite skinny and tall, but the nervous look is gone from his eyes. He has bushy eyebrows, dark skin, and no hair on the top of his head. His alarmingly white teeth stand out, and his eyes are so dark as to look almost black. He speaks in a gravelly deep voice, that sounds like what you would expect if a sandstorm could talk.
Sharla, in her disguise knocks hard on the door in her best Tough-Guy persona. Indeed, her gravely voice seems to nearly shake the door as hard as her fist had when she calls out to Martin.
She is answered by silence.
Each of you catch a brief movement from the curtains behind one of the shuttered windows. Clearly, someone was sneakily peaking outside from within the house, but has chosen not to answer the door.
+bonuses
|
|
Varus remained silent while the changeling took a more masculine look. 'Twas not the path he would have taken, but he had little experience with engaging new people, and left the talking decisions to those that were more wise.
But as he catches a glimpse of someone observing-yet-not-speaking, he feels compelled to give voice. He whispers to the group, "Um, why are we knocking hard? I thought we were to but inform a man of a passing of a family member? Mayhap a calmer approach?
Heh. Sharla, if you can take any form, mayhap whenever we talk to a male of the species, a buxom lass with flowing locks is almost always more profitable than a hulking young tough. Or, at least, so I've seen. Perhaps I might have a bite at the apple?"
Varus chuckles and elbows the others aside. He adjusts his holy symbol so it is clearly visible. "Martin, my son. We have traveled a far, far ways to speak with you. And we only bring news, and wish only for your take on it. Indeed, not only is the news of some import, but the lives of every townmember, indeed, the very town itself, may hinge upon any information you have for us.
Might we beg but a moment of thy time?"
After Varus speaks, there is another moment of short silence, when finally the sound of the door unlatching, twice, is heard.
"Come on in, but don't try anything funny."
---------------------
Scene - The Asher House
The home is small, possesses only the single door for entering and exiting, has at least a single shuttered and curtained window on each wall, and is moderately lit by a small fire burning in the hearth.
The floor is wooden, but a bit musty and in need of renovation. The walls are stone, and undercoated. The place is small, yet can easily accommodate the forms of all present, though there would certainly not be enough floor space if all were trying to bed down
Features
One side of the room is mostly taken up by a small dining room table, a couple of chairs, and shelves for carrying cookware, food, and other household necessities.
The other side of the room is mostly cleared, except for a disheveled sleeping pallet. Extra blankets are folded and placed in the corner of the room. A rain barrel sits inside, open, with a ladle hanging from the open lip.
The hearth is located in the center of these two sides.
Occupants
A shirtless man, wearing leather pants and armed with a loaded heavy crossbow stands behind the door, partially taking cover from what he thinks could very well be a threat ().
He appears to be in his early 40s, and has an athletic shape of lean muscle beneath pale skin. He's a somewhat hairy fellow, and his chest and jaw are both covered with black hair. Several scars shine on his half-naked body
A traveling pack lies at his booted feet, clearly loaded and ready to go.
-----------------
He gestures with his crossbow toward the back of the room. "Get in, the lot of you. Over there, by the fire. Keep your hands peaceful and I'll keep mine the same. I'll not have you standing between me and the door, to the back!" he demands, wary.
Sharla steps to the back, holding her hands above her bald head. "Easy, we just want to talk. We have some information for you, if you answer some of our questions."
"yeah yeah, friend. I'll listen and I may even talk, but I won't be taking any chances. You want to talk to me, then we do it on my terms! "
He says as the disguised changeling enters. Clearly, the man is unused to trusting people, or has just been set on edge.
"We just want to know why you haven't been talking about your brother's disappearance, and what you know about where he went."
Galenus moves to the back as directed. He looks around to room to see what kind of stuff the brothers keep.
He also surreptitiously casts detect magic.