You can either dot & delete, or dot and stay when you get your profile made.
Dotting. WIP Profile for Black Dow's Hedge Knight.
Just in case you'd all like to get started in character I'll give a brief background on where you currently are.
It is late summer, and the caravan season draws to a close.After your last adventure, which paid well... though somehow the coin purse seems to be lighter than it should, your party has decided a little down time in Bards Gate might be a good way to wile away a little time. At the advice of some of the citizens, you've made your way to The Outer Quarter, and rented out a small cabin behind Reingolde's Bar. You've been here a couple of weeks now, and your rent is due in three days, so you've began to pay more attention to the rumors about, in hopes of finding your next employment. The patrons are tiring of the repeating of your old tales, and perhaps it's time for some new material.
Bards Gate
Established many years ago as a bard’s outpost and way station for travelers between the Darkling Wood and the port city of Castorhage, Bard’s Gate has grown into an important crossroads for trade and travel. The city’s banner depicts a silver lyre above a stone gatehouse on a green field. Bard’s Gate is currently an independent city, allied with it's own force raised for defense and prosperity. Several Mercenary bands help defend the city against the evil creatures from the Shield Peaks Mountains to the West. A liberal and tolerant city, Bard’s Gate welcomes all races.
Bard’s Gate’s population averages 20,000 in winter, and up to 35,000 in the summer when merchant caravans, adventurers, travelers and mercenaries visit the city; over the entire year its average population is about 25,000. Bard’s Gate boasts a higher population than normal of elves and half-elves, possibly due to its focus on the arts. Normally a race in search of a home, many half-elves find
things quite to their liking in this tolerant city. The city, as with most cities, is dominated by humans, however
The Outer Quarter
Character: In addition to being a haunt of lower-end
Adventurers, the Outer Quarter is also home to most of the city’s non-humans, containing large enclaves of dwarves, gnomes, halflings
and even half-orcs. Bard’s Gate does not have a large population of elves, and most half-elves are content to mix with the human population. Most of the district’s human residents are immigrants
who have come here seeking employment or new surroundings.
Businesses: As might be expected for an adventurer’s district, there are many inexpensive inns and shady taverns here, along with shops that cater to adventurers, selling exploration gear, clothing, weapons, lanterns, maps, and so on. Most of the buildings are residential, inhabited by the many non-human and immigrant residents
of the city. There is much cheap housing here, including many tenements and inns with minimal facilities.
Prices: Standard unless otherwise noted. Gold Piece Limit: 400 gp unless otherwise noted.
Building Type: Much like the Turlin’s Well, buildings here are built of wood and plaster; there are few stone structures in the district. The majority are two story structures.
Guard Details: The constables maintain a substantial garrison here, and send out regular patrols. The district is large, so the
constables are often overstretched, but they work closely with the Wall Watchers, who can quickly summon aid if major problems occur.
Reingolde's Bar
The first building inside the northern gate to the wilderness beyond is this watering hole, well-known to locals and travelers alike for the variety and rarity of its beverages.
The bar is run by Reingolde Tumsen, a broad shouldered warhorse of a man who retired from being a mercenary after he found that relaxing in a tavern retelling tales was far more enjoyable than actually
experiencing them. At first, he and his old comrades began to meet and trade tales. Eventually Reingolde bought the place with the proceeds from his old life, and today he offers over a hundred different types of brewed or distilled alcohol at any given time, from sweet fairy mead to subtle elven elixirs; from the finest ales on the continent to the crudest troll brew. It is now considered a rite of passage by many adventurers, soldiers, and mercenaries to take the “Reingolde Challenge.” This involves drinking different brews from the bar’s extensive collection until the imbiber throws up, passes out, or gives up. The specific beverages are chosen by Reingolde himself, though he often listens for suggestions from the enthusiastic crowd that gathers to watch such spectacles. He frequently hears rumors of new and unusual liquors and brews from around the world, and has been known to hire adventurers to seek them out.
Reingolde's Specials of the Month.
- Troll Brew: Mug 1 Pence
- Gnoll-Piss Beer: Mug 2 Pence
- Brin Zwiescher: Ale: Mug 5 Pence
- Stone Heart Reserve Whiskey: Glass 4 Shillings
- Heart of Aeulyn Brandy: Glass 4 Shillings
- “Last Drop” whiskey: Mug 5 Shillings
- Vinewood Port: Glass 1 Pound
- Autumn’s Breath elven liqueur: Glass 5 Pounds
- Fairy Mead: Thimbleful 10 Pounds
- Evernight Ale: Stein 20 Pounds -
- Draconic Thundergod: Egg 50 Pounds
It was a quiet night in Reingolde's for a change. Tabby, your beautiful... except for her hunchback... and your favorite barmaid, escorted you to your usual table in the back corner across from the stage, and wiped the table before asking for your order. Garo was working the bar, cleaning up empty mugs from the group of men who passed you on the way out, and winked (or blinked hard to tell with one eye) her one good eye as you were seated.
Purvis, the old "do everything" man, and Tabby's father nodded at you as he brought a platter of some kind of cooked fowl from the back to a group of overdressed, and make-up obsessed group of teenage girls at the table nearest to the stage, giggling and laughing among themselves.
"Li'l Gus and the Basilisks are playing here tonight. Always brings out this same group of infatuated fans. What'll it be tonight"? Tabby holds the slate in her hands chalk ready to write up your order.
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Murgrim sighs as he finishes climbing up into his seat and settles his bulk, pausing to push his grey hair away from his eyes. "Greetings Tabby and fine night to you. A platter of those fowl would be a fine fare for myself and my companions start and some Brin Zwiescher to wash it down. We are looking at hammering out the last details of our Adventurers Charter and hoping to do so over a hearty meal. Perhaps soon we will be asking Reingolde himself if he is looking for some extra exotic drink ingredients. Hah!" he burbles happily.
Seated opposite the thick set dwarf, was Brunhard Schölhamer; the burly hedge knight who was another of the group’s warrior fraternity and their self appointed moral compass - a thankless burden which oft made him the target for sardonic comments from the more blackheated members of their company.
Brunhard smiled politely at Tabby and Murgrim’s jolly interplay as his thoughts drifted beyond the ale and fowl they would consume.
With cropped brown hair and glittering dark eyes, the warrior could almost be deemed handsome save for the broken nose, numerous small scars and serious expression that marred his looks. Not that the impecunious knight had time for affairs of the heart - not when purses were light and his reckoning of worthy deeds was also somewhat lean.
"Though perhaps tonight not too much of your fine ale Tabby... Not least until we have committed our names and intent to the Charter."
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Seated beside the knight looks to be his opposite in nearly all ways: Aurelie. Where the knight is tall and broad-shouldered, a mountain of a man, Aurelie is small and frail; even if she's of average height for a woman, she's quite thin and seems dwarfed beside her companion. Where his hair is short and his eyes dark, she has long waves of tawny brown locks, and her eyes are a light gray-blue. Where Brunhard's rugged good looks are hidden by scars of old wounds, Aurelie looks almost sickly with her lean figure and an ashen complexion--and yet, the woman is undeniably striking. Perhaps the only similarity is her serious demeanor: she seems a tad concerned and on edge, as the others have learned she nearly always is.
"Agreed, we should save the drinks 'til then." Aurelie purses her lips in thought for a moment. It would save on funds, as well. No sense in spending what little we have left. With a sigh, she pats her own coin purse and feels its lightness. Another night of troll brew, if you're drinking, it seems.
"So, what are we thinking? This 'occupation' business has me wondering." She points out the spaces on the charter. "Should we all just put 'mercenary,' or should we refer to our talents there? It would let employers know about our capabilities."
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The bald, bronze skinned dwarf sitting with his back against the wall chuckled. "I like that. So I would be the brutal destroyer of all things living, or otherwise, that present a threat to me, my friends, or my employer." The other dwarf was a curious sight. He was clearly not a Barrier Dwarf, who had pale, if a little ruddy, windblown skin. But neither was he a Sand Dwarf, with their dark brown flesh. No, Kurdran was something different. Something apart. He wore an ash colored beard, well maintained and waxed. His leather armor was clearly a product of the the desert, crafted from the great lizard hides utilized by the Sand Dwarves. He looked leaner, more agile than a Barrier Dwarf, but clearly carried the strength and sturdiness of one. He was an anomaly, something he had become used to.
"Tabby, a mug of troll brew if you'd please. Need to wet the whistle lest I die of thirst amidst the discussion of documents and paperwork. Why do we need the blasted charter anyway?"
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Nuriah sits close by Brunhard, picking at a crust of bread, bringing little pieces to her mouth from time to time. She was 18-19, with face that might be pretty if she smiled more. Thin, frail-looking, most mothers looking at her thought she needed to eat more.
As always, she watched the people come and go , her gaze serious, the grey eyes arresting in their intensity as she wondered how Death would take each of them.
As talk returned to matters concerning the Charter, she sighed, that such worldly matters would take her notice away from the ultimate question.
"Probably so we're not hung for brigands," she answers Kurdan, "Mercenary fits , Aurelie, or is the closest fit in my opinion." she says, tucking away a stray strand of her reddish-brown hair, "If we want to be able to earn some coin legal we better get this done. "
Her words make sense, but the others know she chafes against these strictures to hers and their lives.
Brunhard eyed the others as the spoke in turn.
At first Kudran's words the knight offered up the inkling of a fledgling smile, as unsurprisingly the dverg berserk did not let the opportunity for some bombastic swagger, nor supping of ale, to silently pass.
Yet at the nihilistic young woman's words he decided to interject his own thoughts;
"Nuriah has a point regards being mistaken for brigands. Think we can all remember Red Hill Keep and how close some of us came to the hangman's jig there."
Brunhard frows at the memory of a job gone sour, then focusses back to the task at hand, tapping the charter parchment as he spoke with his atypical pride and conviction;
"Honestly? To merely describe us as mercenary collective does not do us justice. Some of us like to think we are more than mere battlefield butchers. These binding words should reflect that no?"
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@Brunhard: You find it strange that the charter for the group is so cheap in Bards Gate. Elsewhere from your experience it's typically 100GC or so to get chartered, then 10GC per year per member for yearly dues.
@Aurelie: Your local lore tells you that many are disgruntled with Bards Gates Adventuring Group policies. First Dice Roll Alern!!! You decide to look more closely at the agreement to see if anything looks out of sorts. Adjustments are as follows:
- This is a Fellowship (Local Lore) Roll 42 Fel. +10 Apprentice, +10 Focus.
- Difficulty is Routine so a +10% to the roll.
- Your Meeting of the minds would give you a +10% if this was a negotiation, but just a standard contract it wouldn't normally apply.
- Since this is a negotiation for money however, your "Debt Ridden" drawback would apply, meaning that you have to "flip to fail". on the roll.
If anyone had said upfront that they were going to carefully review the document, or taken it to a barrister for review, then I would have allowed you to make a roll, and possibly given bonuses to that. You are a group of mercenaries, so that wouldn't necessarily be in your arsenal unless you'd been burnt before.
If anyone had Education: Law the success would have been automatic.
So If successful test... you find this in the fine print.
The fine prints states that in addition to being allowed to adventure as necessary under the license of Bard's Gate, that you are at any time, at the request of the Bard's Gate Government proscribed to serve as part of the Bard's Gate Free Defenders to serve for a maximum of 30-days per calendar year.
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Aurelie frowns and nods at Brunhard's mention of Red Hill. "Well, it's good enough that we all walked away from that one. We might have done it laughing, but someone... well, best to leave it."
The thin woman sighs and returns her gaze to the charter, considering Brunhard's comment on the mercenary term. It is what they are, she supposes, but each of them have skills and training beyond that point. As she peruses, her eyes start to search out every detail of the contract, at first from habit, then from curiosity. She'd heard about the people being bothered by the adventuring policies in Bard's Gate... maybe there's a hint as to why?
Her eyes catch on a small section of the fine print in the contract, and she clears her throat to get the others' attention. "Everyone, were you aware we were hiring on as guards with this charter?" Aurelie looks up, and turns the paper about, keeping the offending sentence under one finger. "Perhaps we should list our occupations as Free Defenders."
At Aurelie's discovery of the fine print, Brunhard's nicked brow furrows and he gives a resigned nod to himself;
"Ach. I had mulled on why this Chartership comes at such a low cost... Elsewhere in the realms I've heard of these documents costing up to ten times what we are being levied."
The knight draws one heavy hand o'er his cropped scalp as he eyes the others;
" So now we know, with such a bargain comes conditions... Question is are they acceptable to our Company?"
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"Not really. But neither is being penniless." Answers a well-built, weather-beaten Vosk sitting at the far edge of the table. A slightly older man who is firmly into his prime, Skeggi grins sardonically at the others and shrugs. Having been doing this sort of work long enough to leave him just a touch jaded, Skeggi is in many respects the opposite of the more idealistic knight sitting further down the table.
"Ahh... 'Free Defenders!" He laughs. "It has such a noble ring to it, does it not? Much more lofty than simple mercenary... even if in the end the job is always the same." He grins again and shrugs. "Can we afford a charter without strings?"
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Murgrim splutters at Aurelie's comment and a pained look passes over his face and he pauses as the rest of the group comments. "Well..." he starts and stops again and nods towards Skeggi. "It does sound like we may have little choice here, are there conditions on it? If we only need to be guards, but if we are fodder for some suicide mission..."
Kurdran grunts then slams his fist down on the table. "Blast 'em all to the Infinite Hells, ye never can trust a bureaucrat. They can force us to work for 'em, but I'll be damned if we claim that as our formal title. Lass, how much does it say we owe them? Several days a week, a week a month, a whole bloody year?" Kurdran seems more than a bit disgruntled by the situation, but also seems resigned to accept it as well.
"Unless you have a hundred crowns I don't know about in your purse, Skeggi, I think this is our only option." Aurelie's words are laced with dry sarcasm, but it isn't meant to offend. "As for the wording, it says we're to serve as part of the city's Free Defenders--it doesn't state outright just what that means, but I'd expect it means protecting the town, not running off to fight a demon horde or some such."
The woman pauses to look over the legalese again, and nods. "We can be conscripted for that service at any time, but not for more than thirty days in a calendar year. And it's the government of Bard's Gate that has to proscribe our service, so if we're off somewhere else, I doubt they'd get a hold of us."
She leans back in her seat and drums her fingers on the table in thought. "Honestly, it seems a fair trade to me. The difference in charter cost alone is worth several years of service at that rate, and they may not even contact us for a full thirty days if not needed. We'd probably only be conscripted for a day or two at a time, as a supplement to the militia in case of expected danger."
Brunhard continues to mull the table wisdom and varied reaction from his companions.
Skeggi was his usual wry self. The veteran sellsword's tongue was as sharp as his blade, but the Vosk was also a realist: "Gold is the cost of the dead and the reward of the living" he was apt to say.
Unsurprisingly the dverg differed in their feelings; Murgrim always measured and dependable, a wise voice in contrast to the more emotional and reactionary Kurdran. Regardless, both had merit.
He smiled inwardly as Aurelie typically cut to the chase, and he nodded stoically at her words.
"Makes sense. Even if they call us on the full thirty... One month of defending this place is less time that some of you spend drinking each year, and most likely would involve less trouble too..."
Leaning back, his leather armour creaking in protest, the knight continued - resolute in his own decision;
"We should sign. Would make a change... and a welcome one at that, for us to do deeds of some worth."
Taking a deep draught from his ale mug to hide his expression again Murgrim sighs as he puts it down and looks over the group. "Prudence says we should mayhap talk to some other Free Defenders to find out the rules, and pay rate. 'Twould be a shame if that 'free' was very literal..." He pauses again weighing things still for but a moment more.
Having reached a decision, his face animates a look in his eye beyond the table and the current circumstances. Holding the mug up to toast, such as his short stubby form allows. "But aye! We agreed, for each our own reasons, to form a band! Our profession be Adventurer!"
"I do believe my question was more a rhetorical one, Aurelie." Skeggi says with a slight smile.
"Murgrim has a good point. What is the going rate for that month of guard duty? Not that I see we can afford to be too picky, but it would be good to know ahead of time what exactly to expect."
The band enters the room followed by a throng of adoring fans. You know that soon the common room will become so filled with magically amplified music, and squealing fans, that private conversation might become challenging.
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"So we are mercenaries and adventurers, unless the city guard needs some meat fodder. Great! Ah, well, it'll be another grand story to share over a pint I suppose! Here's to us, The Hounds of Charon!" Kurdran hoists his mug of ale aloft, waiting for his companions to raise a drink with him.
After tossing back the mug's contents, he looks at the gaggle of fools chasing in the band. "Shall we be on from here? Don't really want to hear this mess again. Though can't be as bad as that last bard. What was his name, Justino of Bieberton?"
Brunhard winces as he eyes the growing throng of young women;
"Agreed. Give me the crash of the waves over this caterwauling nonsense..."
As the two dverg raise mugs to toast deciding on their collective profession, the knight rubs
his scarred temple;
This has the potential to be a long night. Kurdran and Murgrim will toast anything, and as the night wears on will toast the toasts. Clear heads and clearer words are required.
"Lets get this signed and delivered... or as Kudran suggests move on and discuss further... The Broken Camel is an option."
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"Caterwauling is a compliment.. Nuriah comments, waving her hand in acceptance of both the name and the conditions of incorporation.
She does though take a sip of her own thin ale at each toast, for to not do so would serve up insult to those to whom she was now joined to by Bardish legalese, but most importantly through blood and death.
Her lips twitch at Brunhard's suggestions, "The 'Camel ? Wouldn't be due to a certain brown-haired serving girl? " she asks teasingly
The band finishes up their rendition of "A Knights hard Day", and have to forcibly remove a couple of over-exuberant fans from the stage when the door to the establishment opens and none other than Reingolde the proprietor of the establishment enters struggling to carry a wooden crate through the doors. "Make Way! Make Way! Heavy load"! the big man hollers as he steps through the door, and makes his way to the bar setting the load down heavily on the edge.
"Good crowd tonight huh? he states to Garo, as he begins to remove several bottles of golden liquid from the straw padded crate. "This is the last of the Mountain Satyr's Kiss. Gonna have to arrange to have some more delivered".
The big man then looks to your table with a nod and smile, as you've been quite generous to him and his staff over the past few weeks. Then a cunning look comes over his face and he approaches your table... just as the band starts off on another raucous tune.
"Excuse me... but I've noticed that your spending has decreased a bit over the last few days... might you be interested in a profitable proposition... for both of us? Perhaps an opportunity to refresh your coffers"?
Assuming the characters will entertain the possibilities, he motions them to a back meeting room, stopping at the bar to grab one of the new bottles he just delivered to the bar.
In the back room
Reingolde makes sure all are comfortably seated, and passes out some small pewter goblets, and sends the bottle around the table for each to pour a drink.
"This wonderful Amber Mead is called Mountain Satyr's Kiss. It is vinted at a monastery in the foothills of the Shield Peaks Northwest of here. The monks there only produce in low volume, but I buy all they can spare, and the crate I just brought in is the last in the City".
The man leans back, closing his eyes as he sniffs the beverage before sipping it and sighing in contentment.
"I spent some time at the college today consulting with a couple of instructors about some references to a long lost mead I overheard in a song, and the discussion drifted off topic to how mead is distilled from honey. I was referred to an aged scholar named Elmar Frye as an individual who knew more about bees and honey that probably anybody else in Wrack".
"After meeting the old man the discussion turned to the Monastery of Saint Maisontaal and he pined for access to a number of tomes on beekeeping said to rest in the library there. He wished that there was someway he could visit and study these books before he passed away... so seeing your group setting there gave me a thought". The man refills his goblet almost to overflowing and continues.
"Perhaps we can kill two stirges with one stone. If you're interested I'm sure I could arrange for your group to be paid to escort Frye to the Monastery, and then return with whatever quantity of the Mead they can spare. I will pay you well, and in addition I can offer you 6-months of free board at the hut you've been staying in. If you're interested we can meet here tomorrow morning, and head to the Bards College to see if this is an option. I feel strongly that it will be accepted".
"So what say you? Are you interested"?
Murgrim belches with appreciation as Reingolde enters. Wiping his greasy fingers as he finishes off a piece of chicken and tilts back the last of his mug of ale. With a grunt he hauls his bulk from the chair down to the floor giving the over tall furniture a glare he follows the proprietor to the backrooms.
Speaking as they enter he says "Greetings to you Master Reingolde." But noting that business is at hand he merely follows before finding a new seat and settling back to listen to the proposal.
Nodding along and slurping happily at the cup to the tale and offers.
"Well, I be thinking this sounds like a fine task with some reward..." he ventures with an eye to see if the other members of the group are maybe a little more aware of the nuances of bargaining and proper rates of payment versus risks. But on his plump and guileless face Murgrim looks eager to begin.
Brunhard lets Nuriah's comment pass without a parry, then nods in acknowledgement at the big proprietor's greeting and proposition.
Before he can look to the others to gauge the feeling Murgrim has already risen to follow Reingolde...
Trolling in his wake as much for the liquor as the potential work I'll wager. - the knight wryly mulls as he moves to the back room.
Brunhold eases himself into a seat which creaks in protest.
He sips sparingly at the coveted mead as he hears out the big innkeeps proposal. At its conclusion, the knight leans back with a nod to himself;
"Seems a fair trade. Escort the scholar and return with mead in exchange for coin and board. I'll pre-empt the more brazen members of our company Master Tumsen and enquire just how much coin could we expect in payment?"
Kurdran looks about the gathered company sitting in the back room. "A good bit of work with reasonable pay, that's something we can appreciate. That said, just how far off is this Monastery? Six months' rent and coin as well suggests this might not be just a pop down the road."
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Aurelie smiles at her companions' continued mirth, although she herself is more worried about the legalities of the contract than she let on. If there's one clause we almost missed, who knows what else they might have hidden in there... For that matter, how did I miss it? I'll have to say my prayers twice tonight.
Her thoughts are interrupted by Reingolde's approach and offer, and she sits patiently as the man explains. When he offers the ale, she takes a sip and sighs in appreciation--she hadn't had something this fine and precious in years. Just because you're taught to endure life's hardships doesn't mean you can't appreciate the finer things.
Another fine moment comes from her friends voicing the very questions she'd been ready to ask. The payment offered was quite extensive, even if it was more in services than goods or gold, and that suggested a difficult or dangerous job. So while the others quite capably covered the important questions, Aurelie lets her mind drift to what she's heard of Saint Maisontaal and the Monastery...
Nuriah winces as the noise from the bards and their fans mix and assault her eardrums. She's relieved when Reingolde guides them back out of the cacophony.
As they walk she smiles at how hard it was to get a rise out of Brunhard, looking sideways out of the corner of her eye at her friend.
Once seated, she allows her friends to pepper the bar-owner with questions, sipping the fine mead , wondering at the exquisite taste.
Finally a lull in the questions allows one of her own, "The Monastery...Will we have access? I for one would seek entrance to pray and commune with St Maisontaal."
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"Well now I would think that a half year's lodging, plus whatever the old man pays for the escort would be sufficient... still I'm a fair man. I only make a profit, when the Mead is sold, so for every bottle you return with whole I'll pay you 10 Shillings. That seems fair. Normally they have about 60 bottles available at a time, but since I haven't communicated lately there might be a few more or less.
The big man wipes the sweat from his brow, and takes another sip.
@Kurdran:
"Assuming the weather stays fair... and it should this time of year, it's a 4-5 day hike overland. There is a town called Keegans Bluff about halfway there. It's the nearest real settlement close to the Monastery, and there's also a few bigger farms... oh... and a small Dwarven mine, that still being worked".
@ Little Aurelie
St. Maisontaal is the patron Saint of hunting and gathering. They are known for making the most of limited natural resources, and sometimes are able to find food where others cannot. This particular monastery is renowned for it's beekeeping.
@Nuriah
"I can't speak for the abbot of course, but they've always been friendly in the past. Might not make it into their secret areas, but I'm sure they'd let you do some studying and mingling while there. Don't want to wait too long however... don't want Winter snows to catch you in the higher elevations".
@ All
"Perhaps we should head over the the College tomorrow, and meet with this Elmar Frye. I'm sure he has a little coin he's share with you to escort him there. He seems really anxious to go".
Brunhard listens intently as Reingolde makes his pitch, then looks to the cannier members of the group;
"Escort a scholar and bring back mead. Seems a straight enough course... As long as our dverg brethren don't get thirsty halfway down."
There is mirth in the knight's voice, but his stoic expression does not mirror the words.
"Agree we should meet this Scholar Frye and ensure we are outfitted suitably for the journey?"
Kurdran listens for Reingolde's responses, calmly drinking his taste of the mead as he hears the details. "Well, not going to deliver product to Reingolde without ensuring the integrity of it! Last thing I want is to tarnish his reputation with bad mead. But beyond confirming quality, I can behave myself.... mostly. I am a man of my word, after all, and a contract's a contract. So yes, I think a meet with Scholar Frye would be a productive way to spend the morn' tomorrow."
Skeggi chuckles at Kurdan's reply and nods agreement with the plan. "Seems a simple enough job, at least from where we're sitting now. The pay seems decent too. Eh, Why not?"
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Nodding towards Kurdran. "Aye, best us hope there is no line at the bureaucrats for us signing up the Company although prior. Keep everything in its time." Murgrim repeats a truism while looking rather mournfully at the bottom of his mug.
Aurlie nods in agreement. "A meeting seems like the place to start." She considers trying to negotiate for more payment... but Reingolde is well aware of her financial troubles, and she's not likely to convince him. Besides, it's probably not best to start the group's adventuring career with greed and stinginess.
"Excellent! Excellent! It's always such a bother trying to find trustworthy individuals to carry out my missions. As this is the last bottle, perhaps you could leave soon? I have a cart and mule that you can borrow to help transport the goods".
"I have other duties on the morrow, but I'll write you a letter of introduction for a friend of mine in the Lyre Guard. She can escort you to meet with the esteemed Elmar Frye".
"I must admit to you that he's a bit senile... probably too many bee stings to the head or something, but if you can keep him on task he's capable enough. Once you finish your bargaining with him, return here, and I'll have a sketched out map, and the Mule and cart waiting. See little Hiram in the stables when you arrive, and you can depart when you like... The sooner the better of course".
Then with a smile he rises and motions for you to finish your drinks and depart the room into the noisy hubbub of the outer room. "You know what they say... Time is money".
Brunhard shoots a quick look to his companions, before appealing to Reingolde as he departs;
"If we could but have the sanctity of this room but for a little while longer as we have Charter business to complete Master Tumsen. The raucousness of the main hall this night is ill-suited for such work, hence my request..."
Reingolde hesitates for just a second, then nods. "Certainly... unless someone comes in wanting to rent the room that is... Gotta pay the bills you know". Then he puts on his best smile and opens the door, the sound from outside almost a physical blow of sound and noise.
With a firm goal in mind, the group of adventurers called it an early night. Retiring to the small cabin they shared out back, they each in their own way made peace with themselves before they went to sleep, safe and without keeping a watch for maybe the first time for weeks.
Morning came to the well rested crew. It was impossible to sleep past the cacophonous crowing from roosters throughout the city, so after a quick breakfast of day old bread, and blueberries starting to soften with age, the group starts towards the College with their letter of introduction to a certain Jari Flumm of the Bardic College Lyreguard. Through the morning fog, you can just make out the spires of the College across the east branch of the Stoneheart River. The college sits on a small island in the middle of this busy river.
Location O1
Reingolde's is on the RH side of the river in the top of the section (Outer Quarter) almost at the gates out of the city to the north.
Murgrim awakened instantly to the sounds of morning. Some dark rings under the eyes show that instead of a well rested sleep some dark dreams plagued him still. A rare uttered word in while in slumber suggested the reason Murgrim was never deeply asleep. But it was a handy survival trait upon the road and he was always known to volunteer for the middle of any watch arrangement.
Instead spending time enjoying breakfast, he wolfed down the meal and instead spent time sitting on his bed going over his gear. Cleaning and caring for things that should in turn be used for his personal care.
The thick and sturdy dwarf lumbering after the party and seeing the choice ahead uttered thickly, voice breaking as he spoke the first words of the morning. "Not that boat, best we be getting our legs used to travel again. Too long sitting in this place and 'side I don't think I can brave another stint in what is dumped into the river every morning."
Brunhard woke early as was his want. He rose, stretched out the aches and pains of his limbs before donning armour and heading outside.
In the fresh morning air he practiced his pikework and combat stances, saluted by the distant crows of roosters.
Once satisfied, dunked his torso into the barrel of riverwater and bade one of the others pass him out some breakfast as he dried in the crisp morning air.
When talk turned to transport the burly knight flashed a hard smile;
"Earth's good. Water's better... but walking's cheaper."
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Making herself ready for sleep, Nuriah knelt facing east, where the sun sets. Then, muttering prayers to the God of Death, she ritually drew her dagger and mimed as series of killing blows, a slice of the jugular, a severing of the neck, a disembowelment, etc. Finally, she grew still...one would say still as a corpse, until finally her spiritual ablutions were done, and she rose to slip into her bed and swiftly slip off into sleep.
At dawn she rises, limber and fresh, smiling at the new day and her rising companions.
She shrugs at the discussion, "Walking's fine with me."
The heaviest of the fog begins to lift, and the group begins their journey to the college. Though the crows of waking roosters no longer fill the air, the slowly increasing crescendo of a busy city coming to life replace their abruptness with a ever building cascade of sound. As the individual sounds of carts rumbling, merchants haggling, and dogs barking merge into an indistinguishable and subtle roar.
The Hounds of Charon make their way south from Reingolds along West Sardinha Way passing the Stoneheart Mountain Distillery, and it's smell of damp oak and various grains and herbs before crossing the small bridge over the East Canal and into The Turlin's Well section of the city. A couple of members of the Well Watch nod as your armored and armed group pass, but this area is teaming with adventurers, and little notice is giving.
This booming district was once a run down area of the city, but adventurers coin has caused a renaissance, and fresh construction, and wall frescos depicting what the building caters to line the road. You talk among yourselves criticizing one art style over another, as you walk, and you notice many merchants laying out some of their wares on small tables outside the shops to catch passerby's attention.
You pass many shops and taverns along the busy street, and finally arrive in the Circle of Gargoyles, where you turn west and head across the Lyre Bridge.
Circle of Gargoyles
An alabaster pillar, topped by a bowl, is carved with gargoyles that
look down upon the circular street intersection. A low-angled wall divides the usual paved stones of the streets from the stained granite pavers that surround the pillar. When it rains the bowl atop the pillar collects the rainwaters, and they then drain forth by the gargoyles to form a spectacular dome of sheeting water. The water strikes the wall and runs back toward the pillar where it drains into the sewers.
Local Lore - Challenging (-10%)
The purpose of the pillar is unknown, as are its origins. It was gifted
to the city by a merchant lord of Coutaine over a century ago, though
that nobleman’s line has since died out and no further records of its
commissioning have been found. Utello the sculptor, took his primary
inspiration from this somewhat-macabre pillar when he started his
business. Wizards who have studied the pillar have found it to be
magical, with strong conjuration magic that some suspect opens a gate
into the Elemental Plane of Water. Over the years several members of the city council have put forth motions to have a pump installed in its base so that its wondrous water dome feature can be enjoyed in all weathers, rather than only when it rains, but so far each such motion has been quashed by successive burghers of the Wizards Guild until such time as the strange sculpture’s true powers and purpose can be discovered.
You have now entered the Bridge District. The Lyreguard's at the gate ask your purpose, and your reply of business at the college is acceptable. You are asked to sign a register with your name, and your adventuring group's name if applicable as you cross.
Lyre Bridge
Lyre Bridge is believed to be named for some unnamed, long-lost lover of Turlin the Bard, the original founder of Bard’s Gate. Like King’s Bridge, its length is crowded with all manner of shops and structures that occupy the majority of its 400 ft width. The slope of this bridge is somewhat steeper than that of King’s Bridge in that its center rises higher above the river to accommodate the majority of the river’s water travel, and its ends are closer to water level due to its lower banks. At its center the span reaches at height of 140 ft, and its ends are a mere 35 ft above water level. However, its 1600 ft length keeps the slope from ever being too steep to negotiate by cart or beast, even in the iciest weather. The three great stone pylons that support the bridge along its length were built by the Silverhelm dwarves and sunk deep into the bedrock of the river’s floor to provide stability with even the fiercest flood waters and in an architectural feat to rival even that of the Great Bridge to the south.
Carpenter Lane takes you to the large common where market stalls are already doing a brisk business. You check your purses, and keep a hand on them as you cross the busy market, as this is the area where the Thieves Quarter, and the Bridge Quarter intersect, and many are the rumors of quick handed thieves in the market. Still prices are much cheaper here than in the Guildhall Court Market, or the Grand Plaza Market. The common man shops here, but is wise enough to not carry a great deal of coin.
After a quick stroll through the market you enter Thieves Quarter proper, which will lead you through to Fate's bridge, and into the College grounds on North Island.
Thieves Quarter
Named for the now-vanished Bard’s Gate thieves’ guild, this district continues to be a dark and dangerous place, but has also become somewhat fashionable among jaded nobles and thrill-seekers. Shadowy inns and taverns sit cheek-by-jowl with drug dens, smugglers havens, and houses of ill repute. Almost anything can be bought or sold here, if the price is right. It certainly is far from the safest district in the city, but the Canal District has long since supplanted the Thieves’ Quarter as the seediest and most unpleasant spot in Bard’s Gate.
A few quick glances, and the obvious danger that your group might present to potential thieves gets you through the district easily, as the more intelligent look for an easier mark, and you arrive at the 10' high stone wall that surrounds the campus proper. Several wrought-iron gates pierce the walls at different locations, and all are manned by a few members of the College Watch.
Stopping at the first gate you are approached by a young man with a pockmarked face and a large cudgel. "You're not students here, and you're certainly not scholars. What's your business here, hey"?
Such an interesting place... Skeggi takes in the college and its iron gates.
"Good morning friend. We're here to meet with Jari Flumm. Reingolde sent us by way of introduction."
Murgrim paused at the back of the group knowing from experience that men put stock in politeness and manners to grease the wheels of social encounters. Something for which he had little talent. Reaching back and touching upon the hilt of the broadsword on his back to confirm no sneak thief had stolen it Murgrim peered behind the group to see if anyone was following, paying them too much attention or even merely wandering too close to his group.