"Yes, we need to leave if we hope to help Kemek. And I am curious what this worshiper of Bhaal was planning."
Uruk nods in satisfaction that the druid is in good "condition" and does his best to move the staff so Kemek can face the others adequately as they converse.
Hopefully the documents prove worth the delay but I agree, it is probably best we don't give in to any more distractions if we can help it.
"Have care with those books," Qorin says to Ridel, looking at the books as though they might spawn demons at any moment. Hearing Kemek's conversation with Uruk, he holds his maul up and studies it a moment, then looks at Kemek and shakes his head.
"Balance is all wrong," he says. "Nothing to fear."
"We have more questions now than before," he says more generally. "Shall we proceed to the inn?"
Completely missing Uruk's pointed reference to his maul, Kemek looks down at himself, wondering just which balance Uruk might mean. He realizes that with no legs, and little control over himself below the neck, he can't balance at all; and his mental state certainly feels a little askew. Brain whirring and circuits engaging, he moves on to current events.
"Are we leaving then? These goblins might have more information regarding the recent occupant of this cell. Or perhaps have a leader more intelligent, or intelligible than these minions we have met so far." He thinks for a moment.
"Though, perhaps they are not so interested in conversing with us, given recent events."
I would not put my faith in "intelligent" goblins...
Ridel shakes his head. "Nor I. I also do not think we should hunt them down. They were terrified enough of us already."
Update coming in about 7 hours when I get home.
And so you press forward, leaving the mystery of the Priest of Bhaal behind you as you venture once more into the wild. However, Uruk knows the trail well, and only two days pass before the lights of the Friendly Arm Inn can be seen upon the horizon.
Traveling North along the Great Coast Way Road, you soon find yourself traveling towards a Keep stationed along the road. Banners of all sorts adorn the walls, and armored men patrol the battlements, keeping a keen eye out upon the surrounding land. Merchants and travelers of all sorts can be seen bustling around, and a well guarded drawbridge leads further inside. You can see the Guard now, and for those who have ventured outside the walls of Candlekeep and are familiar with these lands, you can recognize these men as members of The Flaming Fist. They appear to be stopping all who attempt to enter, though they only seem to question each, and do not stop them from venturing inside.
As you walk up, the group in front of you begins to mutter in irritation, as ahead of you a hold up situated at the bridge appears. A wildly tattooed, thin weasel faced human stands before you, dresses in robes of rich crimson, with staff in head. A small but powerfully built Halfling stands beside him, one had resting casually upon his shortsword, the other clutching a money pouch tightly to him. It soon becomes obvious why the Guard has stopped this pair, as another man, a merchant from the looks of him, shouts out angrily!
I say, arrest then vagrants! Charlatans and tricksters they are, and this small one here has a talent for larceny! He stole my coin pouch! Arrest them immediately sir!
The Halfling turns, fetching the Merchant a withering glare.
Oye you, best be watching me tone friend. Call me small once more, and ill adjust your size to suit me own!
The Merchant seems to pale noticeably at this threat, but does not back down. The thin red robed man steps forward, arms spread wide in a friendly gesture.
Come now friends, is this anyway to treat fellow travelers? My good sirs, myself and my compatriot have committed no wrongs this day, unless you count a few farmers daughters with a little less virtue than their fathers credit them for! Haha, indeed I do not deny we are quite the rascals, but I promise you, this man has it all wrong. Friend, let us take you inside and buy you a drink, and talk this whole thing through!
The Merchant seems to not be swayed, and the line of people attempting to enter the walled safety of the Friendly Arm Inn comes to a stop as the argument continues, with the merchant quickly turning red in the face with anger.
Rasp scoffs as he is once again reminded about the difference between a thief and a criminal. Simply put, criminals were stupid enough to get caught.
"Amateurs," he muttered.
"This isn't our affair. But we should stay alert. It could turn ugly if that staff isn't for show, he said to the group.
"Are you sure we shouldn't assist? If someone's property has been taken, it would seem appropriate to return it to the proper owner." Ridel seems anxious, but is busy leading his horse laden with the gondsman's body pieces.
As they travel, Kemek keeps Uruk apprised of all manner of small scurryings and a smattering else of useless tidbits regarding shifts in temperature, micro-climatic pressure drops and the nomenclature battles between those that classified the rare woodlouse by its relations to the common louse and those that rather identified it by a contra-indicated lineage that drew parallels with horseshoe crabs. Which all mostly resulted in Uruk having to grit his teeth and thank Kemek to keep a sharper eye and more closed mouth. Which Kemek promptly did. Momentarily.
Upon arrival at the fortified Inn, Kemek views the new locale with keen interest. He takes in the scene, then seems to blink as he hears Ridel's comment. He looks to his body pieces in undisguised alarm.
"Please have a care with my…extremities! It would not do to have the smallish personage make off with my knees or similar…"
"Our priority is getting aid for Kemek. I don't wish to risk him in a battle, unless it is absolutely necessary. Let the guardsman handle it."
Perhaps..
Qorin pauses, watching the scene with a curious eye.
He doesn't recognize either of the two, but there are plenty of thieves whose faces do not appear on wanted posters.
"Easy enough to get to the truth without you running your mouth," he says, shooting the man in red a sharp glance. His maul rests over his shoulder as he stands near the merchant. "A man like you no doubt knows what's in his coin pouch, down to the last copper, eh? Tell us how much, and then we'll see if that's how much is in that purse, if you've no objection." He says the last to the halfling.
Rasp, in frustration, smacks his face with his open palm.
Uruk found himself honing the practice of the phrases Mhmmm-hmm and ah as the group traveled, Kemek one to give far too much detail about far too many things. Yet as time passed Uruk found himself fascinated by the druid's observations but also craving silence so occasionally he found himself asking the gondsman for some quiet.
At the arrival to the gates the ranger frowned at the delay and also cast a side long look at Rasp as Qorin moved to involve himself in something that struck the ranger as none of their business. Words had been spoken, however, so with Kemek in hand Uruk awaited the reply of the halfling and merchant to the other half-orc's challenge.
Rasp sighed.
"Hand me Kemek. I'm used to fighting one-handed.
The Halfing scowls at the challenge in Qorin's tone, and stares up at him.
I got no objections, greeny, but I reckon ya got no business sticking ya nose where it don belong. Keep that up, might wake up to a blade in the back one night ya Half-Blooded Mongrel!
The situation quickly growing tense, the Red Robed Man steps forward, placing a calming hand upon the Halfing's shoulder.
Easy now Montaron! Whilst I admit, I am not over fond of being accused of larceny and other such ill doings, the Half-Orc brings up a fair and valid point. All of this can be settled quite easily. Master Merchant, if you would, please give us the count of your coin as Montaron here lays it out.
Not quite sure what to make of Qorin's unexpected help, but grateful but for someone backing him nonetheless, the Merchant speaks up, confidence returning to his voice.
I do believe it should be 58 Gold, 39 Silver, and 11 Copper. I normally carry more, but the rest is invested in Trade Goods at the moment I must admit.
Muttering curses under his breath, the irate Halfling dumps the money into the dirt, quickly counting it out.
Everyone Roll me a Perception Wisdom Check.
Kemek, completely oblivious to other folk perceptions of him as a botano-mechanical head on a gnarled staff, eyes the counting:
"You want me out of your business, keep your business out of my way, half-pint. You're too short to reach my back." Qorin glares at the halfling. "And find someone else to count. Someone without your quick, stubby little fingers."
Seeing that the others are prepared for violence, he places a hand on his sword and another hand on his crystal ball in his component pouch.
Despite being taken aback by the threat in Qorins voice, the Halfling keeps his composure andfinishes dumping out the coin. The Merchant walks over and counts, a frown and resigned expression upon his face.
Gentleman...im afraid I must apologize. These amounts do not match up at all! Id like that drink, if the offer is still there...
The Red Robed Man grins widely, and lets out a shrillish laugh.
Of course it is friend! Come Montaron...I believe we have waited long enough.
The Halfling shoots one last murderous look at Qorin before they all begin to walk away...
Rasp walked up to Qorin, carrying Kemek.
"It was none of our affair to begin with. We should carry on to the Inn."
He then said to the accuser. "You there, Merchant. If you're headed to the Friendly Arm Inn, we'll escort you -- for a price."
Uruk frowns at the whole state of affairs not wanting any part in the rising tension or in the attempt to guard the merchant from then on. Taking back Kemek from the rogue as they move on Uruk mutters to the druid, And this is why we give people a wide berth and don't get involved...people are trouble... The ranger sounds only half convinced...
"They were in the way," Qorin says to Rasp, with a shrug. "Now they're not."
He looks at the gates of the Friendly Arms Inn and wonders how much Rasp will ask to escort the merchant through them.
Kemek does not know what to think. He understands that something has been settled, but not exactly how. He peers at the merchant, visibly straining so much so that the staff begins to twist in Uruk's grip.
"What an odd occurrence. Surely the merchant would instantly recognise his own pouch by its shape, leather, color and drawstring?" he muses, rather too loudly for Uruk's comfort. Thinking further the gonds-headstaff seems to warm to the subject.
"Perhaps the merchant is rather addled in the brain, an idiot of some kind, or perhaps non-perceptive; forgetful; or, taking an, ahem, leaf from nature's storehouse of information - perhaps the merchant and the halfling are part of a collective we have not detected - their disagreement merely a ruse, a prop in some predatory enterprise we have only now just entered. Uruk?"
"If you mean they're criminals, Kemek, then, yes, that's very likely."
Kemek's head tries to nod, merely making the attached staff bob in Uruk's hand.
"I mean perhaps they a criminals in collusion - the merchant, the staffbearer in red, and the halfling."
The Merchant graciously declines the offer, though he does seem to consider it.
After all, I did wrongly accuse these poor folk. The least I can do is share a drink with them.
Uruk bristles at the druid and only offers a sharp Shush To Rasp's mention of criminals the half-orc nods, But not any I know...
The ranger looks at the others and motions with Kemek's head, clearly interested in getting in and moving on.
The Flaming Fist Guard steps aside, allowing you to walk across the bridge and into the massive courtyard of The Friendly Arm Inn. The bustle of commerce surrounds you as merchants come and go, checking in and out of the large stables housing numerous mounts. For those of you who have never stepped outside your isolated homes, it is an eclectic group, with vibrantly garbed travelers from Amn walking alongside the hardy folk of The Sword Coast. Armored Flaming Fist Mercenaries patrol the battlements, keeping a keen eye out for any wrongdoings. As you walk on, the smell of an homey breakfast assaults your senses, and each of you cannot help but feel at home.
Continuing towards the Keep which houses the Inn itself, you pass by a Guard House, Barracks, Blacksmith, and a modest sized Temple to Lathander the Morninglord. A stout looking Dwarf dressed in the apparel of the Temple can be seen outside, preaching the word of Lathander to the passing crowds. Taking the massive steps leading into the Keep, you emerge into the Friendly Arm Inn proper.
Warm baked bread, battered in honey and butter...soft cheeses and crisp ripe apples...fresh cider and tender sausages...all these scents and more greet your entry, wafting around you and filling your noses. Though early, the place is bustling with activity, as barmaids glide gracefully around the room, taking and delivering orders whilst fending off the half hearted advances of laughing men. A bard plays an uplifting melody in the corner, and everywhere the sounds of laughter and revelry can be heard.
But, despite it all, you cannot help but feel a shadow of tension darkening the revelry. Despite the joy, you can hear whispered mutterings, and overhear snatches of conversation concerning the recent rise in Bandit activity and Iron shortage. The large mountain of a man sporting a groomed beard that stands behind the main bar seems to feel it too, as he watches the Inn with a steely gaze, clearly expecting or prepared for trouble.
Everyone, make a Wisdom Perception Roll and then decide what you are doing.
A massive, well built Half-Orc sits by himself in the corner, clearly daring anyone to attempt to crowd in on him. He stands out, not only from his warrior physique, but also by the gleaming suit of Full Plate he wears, and the giant blade he carries at his side. A serrated blade sits upon a crosspiece styled to appear as a Dragon in flight, wings spread and talons grasping a faintly flowing onxy. As you walk in, he looks in your direction before staring intently, clearly taking your measure...
Tessa gets lost in her thoughts as the group approaches the inn, recollecting herself as they enter.
Ah, the joy of sharing a roof and a meal brings smiles to all.
Encountering the exact opposite situation, though, she frowns but does not give up on her quest for merriment.
Try to find a table, folks, I'll get the drinks so we don't have to wait to dust off our throats. First round's on me - that should be a mug of ale each, perhaps a glass of wine for Ridel... and maybe a barrel of varnish for Kemek? Be right back!
Being half a foot shorter than most patrons does not help Tessa's intention of navigating quickly through the throng of people.
Kemek notices the strange dichotomy of revelry and tension, baked goods and barred glances. He has no idea what to make of it all specifically, but his naiveté actually helps him to understand that there is something very wrong with this society. As if his innate childishness and inability to parse nuances frees him from the background noise of the combat of individual sounds, smells and social mores, to see the vibration pattern prevalent in the whole.
Just like he can't help noticing the figure in the corner. Kemek almost gasps in wonder at the workmanship of the armor and blade.
"I say - that fellow in the shadows. What an amazing blade he has. What fantabulous workmanship! And that armor. With all the iron that there doesn't seem to be around here, he certainly has amassed a goodly amount of it." All in Kemek's signature strange, and, unfortunately, loud and honest voice.
Qorin is never very comfortable in the midst of a crowd, so the tension doesn't strike him as unusual. The smells of food and the sounds of laughter do manage to catch his attention, and as he moves towards the bar with visions of feasting after long days eating trail rations, a stranger catches his eye. Another half-orc, in gleaming armor with a massive and ornate sword.
"Good day to you," he says to the ginormous barkeep. [/b]"Ale, and food, for my friends and I."[/b] He turns to look at the armored half-orc and sees he is still staring at them. Qorin blows him a kiss and turns his back.
Rasp notices the half orc. After all these years, he knows what it's like to have someone stare at you. He wanted to be upset, but it seemed Qorin was already taunting the fool.
So instead he smirked and found a chair.
Uruk bristles as the druid mentions the half-orc in the corner and rolls his eyes as Qorin takes to antagonizing the warrior at first blush. Sidling up to the seating as available Uruk looks at the Gondsman and cocks an eyebrow Do I face you out to look at the crows or in to face the bar and the others hmmm?
Kemek is momentarily raken aback by Uruk's question.
"That is indeed a good question. I hadn't thought of that at all."
Kemek churns over this most perplexing and important decision. He looks out the window, then at the assembled personages.
"I think today I would like to look upon the agency of people. I am accustomed to Lathander's world. It is the function of society I need to examine and learn from. Thank you Uruk, please face me toward the bar."
To Qorin:
"Is that a usual greeting among half-orcs? I notice Uruk did not also send the same greeting."
Frowning at Qorin's flippant gesture, the Half-Orc returns it with a rude gesture common amongst their kind, before returning to his drink. However, he can still be seen occasionally glancing in your direction, studying you intently.
Rasp, you did not notice any marks, but you did however notice the tell tale signs of Thieves Cant amongst some of the locals.
Tessa orders a round of drinks, and soon enough a barmaid walks, dropping off ale for everyone but Ridel, to whom she presents a glass of wine. Bread and Cheese are also placed before you at Qorin's request, with a hearty stew soon joining them.
The Red Robed Man can be seen sitting near the center of the room, playing some sort of dice gambling game alongside the Merchant that accused him previously. The Merchant seems to have accepted the mans innocence, though his crestfallen look would seem to indicate the Red Robed Man is winning soundly at the dice game. The foul tempered Halfling Montaron sits to the side, nursing a whiskey and shooting angry glances at all who come near.
What do you do?
Kemek will good naturedly look around, taking his social cues from his party.
Any notion what these friends of Gorion look like or where we are to meet them once here?
The ranger pours himself some stew and eats as he looks at the others.
