"*hack* *cough* Yeah, here, take the coins!" Creuse looks to the guards. "Please, officers, you have to help me, take me away from that, that, that...thing!" He points a shaking and bloodied finger towards Grubyub, and the two officers look to each other.
"Well, now, Creuse, singing a different tune now that adventurers show up, aren't ya? Things are going to be different around here now!" The other officer looks to Grubyub. "Take his coins as recompense for your trouble out here, but I'm not authorized to give any reward for capturing a hardened criminal, even one as worthless as Creuse. McDougal would know what the bounty on this lout would be - have a chat with him!" They grab Creuse and yank him to his feet, leaving behind the pouch of coins as well as the shirt in the snow.
Meanwhile, in the Citadel Union, Lagrande and Darius approach the Merry Memory Moss Tavern. They hear the place exactly thirty-seven seconds before they see it, as the unmistakable sound of revelry and good-natured brawling fills the air around the tavern. As they approach, one rather inebriated man aids another in demonstrating the meaning of the word 'defenestration', and he lands roughly and loudly at their feat amidst broken glass. He groans and rolls into a sitting position, chuckling to himself. "'Least I kept you safe, my pretty," he says adoringly to a tin tankard somehow still containing ale, and begins to drain it as he leans heavily against the wall. Beyond the portal lies a large tavern with musicians playing in the corner while saucy tavern wenches distribute large flagons of frothy ale to the half of the patronage not engaged in a massive bar fight moving through the tavern. Nobody seems overly distressed by this fight, least of whom is the barkeep, a stony-faced fellow who dwarfs even Duncan. And I'm not being figurative about stony-faced, he's really stone-faced. Like, all of him. He's like a massive statue or something. That's definitely weird.
Duncan bursts into the Citadel Union, and shouts for Side Burn Guy. Even from this distance and over the din of the tavern, Darius can hear the man-mountain's yells. Possibly more importantly, so can a pair of guards that begin approaching him. "Alright, calm down, calm down, sir, now, what's the matter?"
"I was out there, and there where a goblin, and the guards stopped the bad man, and then I realized I had lost side burns guy, and I don't no what I did with him, AND NOW I'M LOST" Duncan begins to bawl like a seven year old on steroids. No amount of there there's that the guards give will assuage him.
LaGrande works his way to an empty table, shaking his head at the conduct. He waits for a serving wench, and will then look over the menu. Might as well have a healthy meal before descending into the depths.
The two guards exchange a glance, then one approaches Duncan. "So, you've gotten lost, have you? We'll take you to the guard headquarters, and we can get you sorted out. Now, can you tell me your name, sir?"
LeGrande enters, and is quickly shown to a table. A wench in peasant garb with a tight bodice approaches, sitting a mug of ale upon his table. "House specialty, sir - Suloise Indiscretion ale, brewed by our owner, Hops. First one's free. Now, what can I get for you?" She pushes a menu towards him, filled with wonderfully imaginative names such as "Axebeak Wings" and "Dire Cow Ribeye." A chalkboard over on the side advertizes something called "Trivia Night," and seems to claim that people can win several S's with lines drawn through them.
Having collected a share of the money, Fester wanders inside to find his companions. "Now where would they get off to?" he wonders aloud. Reading back a few posts, he snaps his fingers. "Of course! The tavern!" Armed with this new knowledge, he proceeds there with all due haste.
On his arrival in the tavern, Fester locates the grippli and Darius and joins them at their table (regardless of whether he is invited or wanted). "Trivia, eh?" he says, noticing the chalkboard. "I must say that I'm pretty good at it. Mayhap we could win some of these strange letters."
Darius takes a seat at the same table as LeGrande, and calls for an ale of his own, flashing the wench his most charming smile. Spotting the Trivia Night sign, or more specifically, the prizes offered, he seems rather interested, and asks the wench for more information when she returns.
"Tough room," he notes to LeGrande, nodding towards the fight in progress.
Drysten hurries over and grabs the shirt, fitting the llikely too large shirt over his small frame. He doesn't care how it trails, just that he looks cool in it. He'll come back to Grubyub and take whatever gold he is dealt.
Then he too will follow the Jester, trailing on his heals, and healing on his own trail...ing shirt. Trivia? I don't think I will be too much help, unless they ask questions about sailing and the ocean!
Grub stands with pride as the guards depart. "You guards tell people Grubyub Sloppybreech in town! He kill baddies, big famous!"
Next to him, he hears the familiar squeaking of his raccoon companion. He sees the animal standing with a bit of pride himself. "You run off, Sparkly, you not cut baddie like Grubyub. You go hide..."
The raccoon folds his forepaws across his chest and glares up at the goblin.
Grub glares back. "Fine, next time I pick you up, throw you at baddies!"
With that, the goblin hefts his chopper and follows after Daggers and Festerjester. "Hey, where giant man go? Lunk run away?"
The wench returns Darius' smile with a mischevious glint in her eye as she sashays away from their table, returning several minutes later with more ales for the group. "Oh, are you a follower? The cult of the goddess Trivia has worked out a deal with Hops to hold a service/promotion in the tavern every Godsday evening. She's the Queen of Ghosts, so all spirits are half off. We also put your names into a raffle, and you can win her holy symbol." She reaches between her ample bosom and withdraws a silver symbol much like the ones depicted upon the chalkboard. "It's also ladies' night, so you might want to come back if you're feeling lucky." She gives Darius a saucy wink before taking orders from anyone else at the table.
The tavern is packed with many other people besides your group as well. An old man sits near a fire smoking a pipe, two heavily robed figures sit at a table nursing mugs of ale, and a man lurks in one of the tavern's dark corners, his form partially obscured by shadow. Meanwhile, the fight rages on without sign of stopping. Occasionally a brawler is thrown bodily from the melee, only to be replaced by another equally drunk combatant.
"Not quite what I expected, but I guess it's worth taking a chance at the raffle." Darius shrugs.
Darius offers a charming smile in return of the wench's wink.
Duncan whimpers at the guards."My name is Duncan, but Grammy always calls me Dunk the Lunk, so you could call me that if you like. I am looking for the Side Burns man. He walked in here while I wasn't lookin an now I can't find him. Can you find him? Please."
The taller of the two guards - whom Duncan naturally towers over - takes the lead, speaking in calming tones. "Take it easy, big fella. We'll find Sideburnsman soon enough. You just come with Trufel and me to HQ, and we'll find him in no time flat. I think we've even got juice boxes." He leans in to Trufel, speaking quietly. "Run ahead. Make sure we've got juice boxes." Trufel nods and runs down the corridor, while his companion remains behind. "Alright, Duncan, just come with me. You can call me Morel."
"You mean it...sniffle...sniffle... I can have my very own juice box." Duncan brightens up a bit and follows behind Morel. {b}"Thank you mister Morel"[/b]
Come on Darius, she said ladies' night. It's only day now, and we have a Herzog Sanctum or something to raid.
"Sounds fine to me. I think we'd better get the other stooges back first, though. The big one, in particular. I've met more cunning poultry, but his brute strength might come in handly."
Morel leads Duncan back to the Guard Headquarters, a small enclosure inside the Union. Trufel is there, and he's managed to scrounge up a small box labeled "Apple," which he presents to Duncan as Morel leads him in. "There you go, big fella, just have a seat, and we'll find Sideburnsman for you."
"I hope you have a very good explanation on why you're bringing a giant into HQ, Morel," says a gruff voice, and the guardsman cringes as he slowly turns and snaps to attention.
"I do, McDougal, sir!", he says with military efficiency. "This citizen has gotten lost from his group, and I just brought him here so we can find out where his group's gone, sir!"
Duncan sees McDougal at last. He's not an impressive sight - barely 5'5", but sporting a drooping mustache that completely hides his upper lip, he wears a uniform similar to the rest of the guards, but has several well-placed and shiny chevrons. "Well, you and Trufel certainly aren't going to find them here in HQ, are you?", he says, walking directly up to Morel and looking up at the guardsman with hard eyes. "Or did you think they'd been conscripted?"
"No, sir! We were just on our way out, sir!"
"See that you are," McDougal says, and dismisses the pair. They rush from the Headquarters, spreading word to the guards that they see to be on the lookout for someone named Sideburnsman.
"Now then," McDougal says as he walks towards the large man. "What's your story? Who is this Sideburnsman? And, probably most importantly...is that my juice box you're drinking?"
Meanwhile, in the Merry Memory Moss tavern, the rest of you have quaffed a few ales and eaten a few baskets of chicken wings. The brawl has continued all this time, and though it's not due to any conscious decision of the participants, the perpetual fight has begun to drift towards your table.
Darius rises and decides to step out.
"I most certainly don't want a part in such a barbaric brawl." As he does, he pretends to brush off some lint from the lapel of his coat, slipping brass knuckles onto both of his hands as subtly as possible, just in case.
After all, everyone knows a good sucker punch is easily worth a dozen haymakers.
He counts out a handful of silver and copper, enough to pay for his meal and a decent tip for the wench, and personally hands it to her, taking the occasion to flash her another winning smile.
Duncan takes a sip at his juice box. Smiling a bit out of the side of his mouth he extends his other hand out and waits for the McDougal to shake it. Not even pausing to wait and see if McDougal will shake his hand, Duncan begins to tell his story. "I'm Duncan, cause my mama named me Duncan when I was born. But Grammy calls me Dunc the Lunk, she says it is because I don't have the brains Beory gave a half dead Trog. Well she says that Beory sent me on a quest to here because I was needed here, but the voice in the sky says I am just going here so I am out of everybody's way."
The sound of slurping comes from the juice box as it has obviously ran out. Duncan's hand still hovers in front of McDougal, never wavering. "Mr. Sideburns is my friend. I met him out on the walk to this place. He is a good and righteous defender of all that is good in the world. He takes care of me and makes sure I don't do bad. I try to be good, I wash my hands and say my prayers and everything. Open doors for girls too."
Duncan puts the Juice box down on the ground beside him "Can I have another juice box? The nice guards said there would be plenty here and I like juice. Can I please have another. Please oh please oh please." Duncan goes into the dreaded puppy dog eyes, somewhat out of place on a grown man his size. Even more odd is the fact that his hand is still hovering out for a handshake.
"Hah hah! Finally fight come Grubyub's way!" The goblin chitters away as he hops up on the table they're sharing and begins scooping up the mass of sauce laden chicken bones...pausing long enough to slurp off any remainders of meat and cartilage...then begins tossing the entire mess onto the floor where the fighting patrons would be approaching.
He gets out a torch from his pack, ready to use it as a club. "Watch, watch fellows!! Grubyub give them the slip!! Then he smash heads with club!!"
With a maniacal laugh he swings the club about and then ends with it pointing at Fester, his mirth coming to a dead halt as he points the torch at the gnome, but his eyes are looking at the bar. A positively wondrous revelation booms in his head like a thousand fireworks. "Light me, Festerjester! We bring down house!"
Unknown to the goblin who's eyes have promptly glazed over with visions of the entire establishment ablaze, Sparkles the Raccoon is off pilfering shiny things from the tables left behind by the brawling patrons.
"Grub gonna light it,
Jumping up and down,
He'll have a laughing fit
as it burns to the ground..."
.....
LeGrande's head is beginning to hurt from the onslaught of noise, violence, ale and hot sauce. "Well I was called here to explore some dungeon". "Maybe we should gather our motley crew, and set forth...so we can make it back in time for ladies night...maybe with more coin"?
McDougal narrows his eyes, glacing at Duncan's hand as though the outstretched palm offended him, then glances back into the man's puppydog eyes. "Let me make something clear, you simple-minded oaf. I run a tight ship here in the Castle. I've got my hands full with the thieves' guild making trouble, the druids of the Golden Bough doing rituals to screw with the weather, and the monsters crawling up from the depths of the dungeon. What I don't need is a bunch of adventurers poking their noses into everything and making mischief. Don't cause any problems here, obey the law, and keep out of my way, and there won't be any complaints." He moves closer, and stares up into the man's eyes without blinking, unafraid of the much larger man's physically imposing stature. "If you don't, then I will be very, very displeased. Now sit down, stay quiet, and wait for my men to retrieve your Mister Sideburns." He walks away, but stops after a few strides. "And enjoy your juice box," he adds, humming a strange tune underneath his breath.
"Euler's Constant, Square root Pi, take me to a circle on high..."
Meanwhile, in the Tavern, the wench collects Darius' coins, and she returns his wink, slipping him a piece of paper. As Grubyub waits for a light on his unlit firebrand, the brawl finally reaches their table, and a patron slips on several discarded wingbones. The man crashes into their midst, and is out cold he disappears beneath the table. Two of the men inside the brawl notice the little goblin, and one grabs him, pulling him inside. They swing punches at the goblin as he is rudely shaken from his pyromantic reverie.
Dristen jumps up on the table, Hey, leave your hands off of my ally.
Dristen channels negative energy through the tattoo on his right hand.
"Hey! Halfling!" Darius shouts back at Drysten as the nausea of negative energy washes over him. "Watch where you're channeling!"
Darius hops out of his chair and steps behind one of the men, flanking him with Grubyub. He taps the man on the shoulder and, when the brawler turns his head to face him, tries to throw a brass-knuckle-assisted jab at the man's throat.
"Unhand the goblin at once, ruffians! We didn't come here to fight lowlives such as you!"
"Ahh!!, Grubyub munch munch!!" The goblin twirls in the grip of the offending human, overly large head opening on the hinges of his jaws, biting down as hard has he can...
Hard Head, Big Bite
Hard Head, Big Bite
At the combination of negative energy, sharp goblin teeth and old-fashioned fisticuffs, the brawl releases Grubyub as swiftly as it had scooped him up, and the four of you make your escape from the Merry Memory Moss Tavern. As you leave, you hear a crier ringing a bell nearby.
""
"Sideburns? They talking about you?" Fester offers inquisitively to Darius.
"I haven't the faintest clue. They did say 'by the name of', though. Although given the 'hill giant thing, I have a suspicion they might have found the lunk."
Darius sighs.
"All I really wanted to as a few kobolds to skewer and a chest full of jewelry." He mutters under his breath. "Of all the dungeons in the world, why did I have to end up in this madhouse?
Grubyub grabs up his chopper, wiping the blood from his lips where he'd bitten the brawler. "Grub agree, Fancypants. Let's get Lunk, then get treasure."
LeGrande cringes as the negative energy surrounds him stealing his energy. He leaves the pub with the others, feeling weak and dizzy. This whole adventuring thing is not anything like what I thought it would be. I haven't even made it to the dungeon yet, and we've already been in multiple scuffles. Isn't there enough danger here without creating our own?
What do they mean by smuggling? Did Duncan not pay for his ticket like the rest of us?
"They think the oaf's a hill giant, and you're worried about them thinking he was smuggled in? Hah."
"Wait, we have a hill giant in our midst? I've never actually seen a hill giant!" Fester looks about excitedly.
Duncan smiles at the retreating form."Thank you for the juice box mister, and may Beory bless you with a long and happy life, and may saint Cuthbert bless you with his common sense." The lunk then looks around as if trying to listen to a conversation he can not quite hear. In a confuse tone too quiet for any but him to hear. "But I'm not a hill giant."
After wandering the Union for a short time, a pair of guardsmen warily approach the Darius and the rest. They pay little heed to the goblin and the grippli, focused more upon Darius' facial hair choices.
"You think that's him, Soufell? I mean, he's got some sideburns."
"Might be, Beniet, might just be. 'Course, lots 'o folk got sideburns. Can't just assume people be criminals just 'cause they've got facial hair. That just ain't right. Still, probably should check it out."
The pair approach and Soufell tips his cap. "Evenin'. Just out of curiousity, you folks haven't gone and lost yourselves a farm giant, have you?"
"A farm giant, you say? Hm..."
Darius turns to his companions.
"Didn't we see a few adventurers walk in with some tall freak, earlier?"
Then, turning back to the guards, Darius asks:
"Hm... Is your giant about eight feet tall and wearing a brown beret? I know where his companions went. If you'd like, leave it to me and I'll gladly take him back to them."
(and add another +4 if this qualifies as "appearing innocent of 'smuggling a giant'".
"Where is the giant?" Fester shouts excitedly. "I'd really love to meet one!"
"Ayup, that's the one," Soufell replies. "Just follow the signs to the guard headquarters, you can't miss it. Nor him, neither, now's I think on it. Come on, Beniet, we've got a beat to walk."
"We're going to see a giant, a giant, a giant!" Fester sings happily.
Grub keeps his mouth shut. He senses Fancypants is onto something when it comes to Lunk. Better to let him take the lead than get in the way. Besides, he was still a bit depressed about not getting to burn down the tavern.
Dristen starts, Wait - and then quickly stops himself as a thought dawns on him ...for me. The sentence comes out almost as a question.
"Alright, let us go pick up that big oaf, we've got a dungeon to explore, and that's enough wasted time," Darius declares, leading the party towards the guard post.
Finding the guard headquarters is as easy as following the signs. Within a matter of minutes, the group is soon reunited with Duncan at the headquarters. A rookie guard who has been assigned to watch over Duncan looks to the large man as the group approaches.
"Okay, big guy, is this your Mister Sideburns you keep talking about?"
Duncan's face lights up and he surges to his feet. "You came back for me!" He rushes forward and stops up short before Darius, it looks as if he started to go in for a hug and then thought better of it.
"Thank you for not forcing me to wash this shirt before we move on, Sir Duncan."
Then, Darius turns his attention to the guard.
"Thank you for keeping an eye on him. It seems the big oaf has a tendency to wander off. We'll be on our way now, and out of yours by the same occasion." He declares, acting as though the guards had never mentioned any accusations of smuggling giants, and such.
Grubyub and Sparkly share a glance, both seem to shrug in response. The little goblin looks up at Fancypants and Lunk and waits patiently for the signal to either burn something down or to simply get going.
"That's not a giant!" Fester exclaims. "It's just Dunc-a-Lunk!"
Dristen shakes his head. "Guys, can we just decide on whether Duncan is a giant or not? I can't keep tract of all these changes. It's not like he's two things; one person can't be two things."