Faelyn heads up to the bar and catches Tracy's attention. Hey sweet heart. How about some Icewine? Faelyn gives her a friendly smile and hands her a gold.
Silas an icewine for down here," She winks, then the grabs the sliding wine. "You look like shyte she says...where's everyone at?" Pausing looking around the bar, "couple new ships come in and we've been working hard."
They are laying low. Any news here? Anything new about any previous employees?
Faelyn enjoys the burn of the frozen drink. This is what I have been missing.
He keeps an eye out for any gambling taking place.
"No news on Orn...rumors that he is dead...but only speculation if you ask me.' she nods. "Lots of new folks around" her eyes dart to a few noticeable guards.
"Some dice in the next room if you are interested. Don't think the stakes are that high."
Faelyn slides Tracy an extra gold. Keep your ears open.
Faelyn lights a rolled smoke and heads to the back room. He takes time to memorize faces.
Faelyn you see a group of five men tossing bones on the table. they seem to be rolling for 3 gp per roll.
Faelyn walks over to the table. Gentlemen is there an open seat?
The look up, "Aye if ye got gold, ye got seat at my table. Were pinching dice high roll wins."
2 people/6 gold
The first roller scoops up the coin and smiles. "How about 5 gold a roll you against me.
Faelyn lays out 5 gold. Let's make it interesting.
With desire many times greater than the fatigue wearing on him, Truk pulled Lucrezia's last piece of tar-caked clothing over her head and dropped it to the ground. He took a moment to take in the full bounty on display in front of him, before pulling at his own tarred belt.
"What is it that keeps you going Beautiful?" the big orc asks between heavy breathes. "How do you deal with this %*#^ everyday?"
Orsin finds himself staying up long after the others have turned in for the evening; a single flickering candle, his only company. He stares at the parchment sheets, still as blank as they were when he sat down to start writing hours ago. He tries to order his thoughts as best as he can, reflecting on the events that transpired within the Asmodean Knot, every recollection, however, brings back bitter memories of those the brotherhood has lost.
A salty, silent tear stains the empty parchment before Orsin takes up his quill yet again and sets down the first few words.
"Duncan Redhammer was among one of the finest, most honorable people I have ever had the displeasure of meeting..."
---
By daybreak, Orsin's account of the Asmodean Knot is finished. The exhausted bard spends the morning catching up on the sleep he lost to the little hours.
Lucrezia sighs as she helps Truk with his tar soaked belt. "Sometimes I have no idea what it is that keeps me going. I think I'm just too damn stubborn to know when it'd be best for me to just f!@&ing quit this sorta s$!&."
As Lucrezia works to free his belt, Truk undoes the last clasp on his breastplate and drops the heavy pieces of metal to the ground with a hollow clang. His roughspun tunic is shed with reckless abandon a moment later, giving the hardened grayish flesh of his muscled torso a welcome breath of air.
"Do you believe him? Do you trust Arael when he says that all of this will save Westcrown?"
"I believe that he means everything he says. I just hope that it will all turn out to be true."
Lucrezia turns around, presenting her bare backside to Truk. "Now, if you don't mind, I can't seem to scrub the tar off my back myself."
Free of the belt, the big orc lets his kilt slip to the ground.
"My pleasure..." Truk purrs as he scoops the beautiful ranger up and carries her to the tub.
***
Sometime later, free of tar and relaxed, Truk kissed his way across his paramour's shoulder.
"The night's still early. You ready for another go or should we see what the others are up to?"
Faelyn you wake in a tangled knot of limbs and sheets, your mind tries to focus on the strange room. The dim light highlights an empty icewine bottle on the floor. A soft moan startles you...Ahhhhh yes, Tracy.
Orsin you wake up and find your face pressed against the writing table, your parchment and ink put to the side. A gently hand stirring you, trying to wake you, "You'd find a pillow softer than the table."
John your mentor introduces you to the two Hellknights, neither name sounds familiar to you, "They will oversee your next test. By the look of things you may need a couple days to get ready. No big hurry they are being repositioned in town for a while."
"Now go clean yourself up."
Faelyn gets up quietly and heads over to the desk in the corner of the room. He pulls out his spell book and begins memorizing his daily spells. After some time, he heads down to the main room for breakfast hoping to run in to Alphonse.
Andrea, Lucrezia, Truk, Orsin an Shadow hear at the crack of dawn activity coming from downstairs. Orsin whimpers it's far to earlier for so much ruckus, his head only hitting a pillow in the last hour.
The safehouse is humming earlier the next day, there are several loud greetings and warm wishes. The spicy sweet smell of sausage, bacon, ham an griddle full of eggs potatoes There is a salute of three cheers in deep boisterous voices: "TO DUNCAN...TO DUNCAN...TO DUNCAN". The sleeping warriors all know it's way to earlier to be drinking mead and talking so loud.
Over the loud voices it sounds almost like...well...a fart. Followed by tremendous laughter.
Faelyn you do see Alphonse in one of the back common rooms he is having breakfast with two other people when you approach. An odd looking red headed dwarf with dirty finger nails and female dressed in erotic scarves and high black snake skin boots that come up to her mid thigh.
Faelyn gives a slight now to Alphonse as he approaches the table. Greetings Alphonse. I missed you at the table last night.
Faelyn nods at the other two at the table.
"I had private game last night."
Faelyn slides a chair up to the table. You don't have any play for your old friend Faelyn anymore?
He grins, "You sure are ballsy."
The exotic female arches a thin brow at you, then runs her tongue over her pouty ruby lips, when you intrusively sit down.
Morning my lady. Faelyn winks at the exotic lady. He looks back to Alphonse. For sitting down with a friend? He smirks. I want to talk mutually beneficial business. I've noticed your clientele has grown and I want some action. I'll be blunt...I need gold.
After the adrenaline of battle finally fades as the last of the tar is removed, Lucrezia rethinks her idea to see what the others are up to. "I don't think that I have the energy to leave this room 'til morning. How about we just find something to keep ourselves occupied in here and then have a nice long sleep?" Lucrezia settles back down into the mess of blankets upon the bed, pulling Truk down with her.
Feeling a bit refreshed from a full night of sleep, but still saddened by the previous day's events, Lucrezia rises to wash up for the new day and to see what's salvageable from the clothes she was wearing. Digging around in her bag for some spare clothes, Lucrezia decides that she needs to buy several sets of new clothes. One to replace what she was wearing and others to keep on her and stashed in her various rooms for when needed.
"I suppose I can wear my chain shirt for the day while I'm trying to get my new armor clean again. Good thing picked up a cloak from those b#*@*es. They owed me one for ruining the mine."
At the loud noise, cheering and farting coming from the main room of the safehouse, Lucrezia looks over to Truk. "Well, shall we go see what is going on and join in the festivities?"
Truk wakes with a start and pulls himself from Lucrezia's tight hungry grip. He pauses for a moment, trying to make sense of the ruckus that woke him.
"It's damn early but I think you're right."
The big orc digs through his things for a unsoiled change of clothes. His armor could be cleaned but his kilt was likely ruined. He settles on an open roughspun vest and a breechcloth.
"I could use a bite to eat anyway."
"What action are you speaking of Faelyn Sindrel and why would I share with your gambling likes?" Alphonse replies.
That comment brings a gruff laugh from the dwarf. Although the dwarf has a battle axe strapped to his back, the more interesting item that has your attention is his bronze horseshoe staff.
"May Duncan drink the golden ales that Ragathiel generously provides." Arael's voice can be hear praising.
"Here...Here." followed by drumming on the table.
Truk enters the common area, adjusting himself with one hand while rubbing his eyes with the other.
"What's going on...?" the big orc asks groggily.
"What action are you speaking of Faelyn Sindrel...
Now that is the question isn't it? What is available? You know that I am more than just a gambler and I have made some recent connections that you may be interested in... Faelyn eyes the horseshoe staff. Very nice item master dwarf.
Back to Alphonse: Are you so important now that you no longer require informants in Westcrown?
The staff appears to be finely crafted. Other than that your spellcraft reveals no other information.
When Truk and Lucrezia arrive downstairs.
Areal is grasping forarms with an unknown, cankerous faced dwarf that has a frothy beard. While Janiven is doing the same thing with Gruum, each person is holding the others tankard and forcing them to drink. Both dwarf's are standing on chairs to get height.
Truk is quick to add himself to the mix.
"Morning everyone", the orc offers.
"Gruum, I didn't know you were involved with this lot too. Who's your friend?"
Truk preemptively offers a handshake.
Orsin your head is ringing from the loud boisterous racket.
---
Shadow you too find it difficult to rest with all the noise that is happening in the hideout.
"May Duncan drink the golden ales that Ragathiel generously provides." Arael's voice can be hear praising.
"Here...Here." followed by drumming on the table.
At the table the wild looking dwarf climbs on top of his chair.
An odd sight. The dwarf is tall and quite obviously broader than even Duncan was. But he was far less kept.Extremely muscular (perhaps favoring the upper body more than would be normal) with bold black dwarvish runic tattoos all over what ever bits of skin you could see, including the shaven sides of his head and chin and cheeks.
His beard/hair was an unusual style for a dwarf,
His armor was ridged and spiked and black but seemed in good working order. On his back was a Fine but plain shield with a jagged double sided battle axe on one side of his belt and a Greataxe with serrated edges next to the shield. The only fine looking weapon he seemed to possess was a beautiful silver Warhammer which he brandished towards the sky as he balanced on his chair.
TO DUNCAN. Maybe the bastard stand proud atop the souls o every stupid prick e ever dropped in the name o good. An eternity o fun and plenty o orcs to smash and women to shag! Drinks!
Then he falls of the chair onto his head.
Andrea wakes with the yelling and the farting and drags herself out of bed with sleep-crusted eyes. Splashing water overh er face, Andrea settles in for her prayers before rising and dressing.
Her hair is still an awful mess so Andrea wraps headscarves around her head, even borrowing som scarves from Shadow before dressing plainly and heading down stairs.
Seeing everyone eating and quaffing, Andrea takes a small plate of food and some coffee.
To Duncan. Andrea responds and eats before gathering her thigns to head out for the day.
The unusal dwarf proptly stands at the new arrivals and wraps Andrea in a too familiar bearhug, the spikes of his cesti digging in just a little . Unlike his pauldrons, his chestplate was spike free lest andrea get injured by the gesture.
Andrew! Da telled me about ye! Duncan nearly squished yer head, till it turned out ye weren't an Urgothan whore! Bet yer lotsa fun at parties. He'd be missing ye in any case.
He puts here down and looks to the side as if hearing someone say something, Yes Father, I'm fergetting me manners. He spits in his hand (which is missing the top of a pinky) and extends it. Grimm Sharpest, at yer service. Warrior fer hire but I'll roll wit ye fer free. Point me at yer enemies!
Truk cheers to the toast, looking for a mug to join in with.
He looks a lot like Duncan... Are they related? Come to think of it, all dwarves look alike.
The big orc takes the offered hand and shakes it fiercely.
"Another warrior is always welcomed."
Suddenly the dwarf sobers. He sorta tilts his head to the side and his left eye twitches a bit as he looks sideways at the big half-orc.
At least 6 seconds pass before he looks at Grumm, This the one ye wanted me take keep me eye on?
Grumm nods, Called tact boy, ye should learn it.
Grimm smiles and repeats his gesture with the spit/shake to the Half-Orc. Nice te meet ye. Hope year wield yer weapon better'n that orc chieftain I got me axe off. Didn't seem like he needed it, what being dead an all. But I'm sure ye a right nice orc, ain't ye? Duncan woulda kilt ye otherwise.
"Truk'tosh", the big orc answers as he grips the dwarf's hand.
Truk tries to overlook the blatant distrust.
"I wield my weapon well enough", the hulking brute says with a glance in Lavinia's direction. "And Duncan's the one that recruited me for this little group. I don't know about 'nice' but I'm not going to cut your throat in your sleep if that's what you're worried about."
Lucrezia extends her own hand towards the new dwarf. "Nice to meet you Grimm. My name's Lucrezia Villanova and I happen to think that Truk-tosh here is rather nice for an orc." Lucrezia looks over to Truk and winks at him as she says that last bit.
A wide grin spreads across Truk's face, revealing the short tusks hidden beneath his bottom lip.
A moment later, his attention returns to the newcomer.
"So you're to be helping out around here? That's good. How do you feel about Hellknights?" Truk asks leadingly.
Ahh, that's right. Brother in some trouble or sommthin'. The elf filled me in. Well goin after an army without one o yer own is plain f*ckin stupid. But I hear good sense don't come in when there be orcs or family involved. Not that I ain't done me fair share o stupid s!$+ in the past. Didn't get me haircut fer nothin ye know.
He pauses again to listen....
Right father, he weren't asking that. As fer my opinions on Hellnights. We'll seems a bit stupid to worship infernal spit without and goodly reward fer yer service. They be a bit cracked if ye ask me. He taps the side of his head.