The Plodding Plow Inn. Aka The Stop.
The Stop is a caravan way station halfway between Hillsfar and Yûlash that has grown into a hamlet devoted to servicing caravans and the many surrounding farms. Due to the frequent caravans, The Stop is quite cosmopolitan for lands near Hillsfar.
Many of the Phlan refugees have relocated here following the elemental devastation that has led to food shortages in Mulmaster, in hopes of finding supplies to aid their families still in the City of Danger. Still near to Hillsfar, but with few Red Plumes to watch it, The Stop is a frequent place for spies, brigands, and ne'er-do-wells to ply their trades. After Elventree, The Stop is the most common place where adventurers are found.
The inn is bustling when you arrive.
Scarlet's skin crawls, this place is a hive of corruption and villainy, a part of her wishes to pull out her blade and bring them all down. But no, she will not be ruled by it.
She stands out, her pale skin taking on the smokey orange colour of the torchlight. Her eyes dark, she mentions she's looking for honorable work to the barkeep and takes a seat and a drink to pass the time.
A stocky man in heavy armor enters the Stop, a shield on his back and smile on his face. The armor and weapons that he wears seem to be of a dwarvish fashion and he even looks like he could be a dwarf, except for a lankier body and absence of chin whiskers. Thick sideburns frame his face, skin darkened from hours at a time in front of a forge.
He looks about and calls for an ale before scanning the common room for the elf, Elanil Elassidil.
Ember sits at the bar fiddling nervously with a glass of watered wine. Her charcoal black features look worried and her bright orange hair writhes ever so slightly even though the air is still.
She glances around the room running a hand through her hair and then pulls up the cowl of her gold trimmed black cloak.
How am I ever going to disguise myself as human! I should have paid more attention to Philious when he was talking if illusions!
An old human woman steps into the inn. Haven't been to a place like this in years. But one must do what one must. The fates decree with it.
Alysha is dressed in plain, ragged clothing. There is the smell of garlic and other herbs about her.
Scarlet looks at Ember as she enters, fellow planetouched are rare enough to provoke her interest. She considers a moment before approaching, "I hope you don't find me forward, but you appear a kindred soul."
At well over seven feet tall and close to four hundred pounds of pure muscle, Ragnar stikes an imposing figure as he enters the inn. He wears plain travler's clothes with a polar bear hide cloak draped about his shoulders and broken manacles on his wrists. As he moves, the chains on the manacles jingle lightly. His white hair comes to the center of his back in long braids from the top of his head, with the sides and back shaved. Eyes like polished onyx scan the room, and he keeps one hand on his coinpurse and his other resting on the pommel of his battle axe.
Scarlet looks at Ember as she enters, fellow planetouched are rare enough to provoke her interest. She considers a moment before approaching, "I hope you don't find me forward, but you appear a kindred soul."
"You mean because of our distinct appearances drawn from our extraplanar lineage?... Er, you're welcome to sit with me. Though we're bound to draw more attention if you do, but I don't mind." Ember gestures to the bar stool next to hers though just after she does her orange glowing eyes are drawn to the Goliath who just entered.
"Oh, ah, excuse me a moment I'll be right back. I've just seen a friend!" She hops down off her stool revealing herself to be quite short. Racing across the common room with zero decorum and her cowl falling down to allow her flame coloured hair to fly out behind her, she flings herself at Ragnar and tries to wrap her arms around his waist in a hug. "Ragnar! Come sit with me at the bar, what brings you to the Stop? Harper business? That's why I'm here."
She takes Ragnar's arm and attempts to drag him back to the bar. "This is my friend Ragnar! Ragnar, this is... er, sorry I didn't introduce myself did I... I'm Ember" she says offering her hand to shake Scarlet's.
An elf with a lute steps up on stage.
“LISTEN HERE LAD, HILLSFAR, THE CITY OF TRADE, IS A GREAT place to make your way, as long as you're not an elf... or a dwarf... or a halfling or well pretty much anything but human. But if you're human, there is no better opportunity!”
Some groans and some chuckles come from the crowd.
"No, no, it's true! To thrive here, you should have been graced with humanity; blessed to live a few short decades and to die off, clearly superior in your grave while the rest of us live our poor non-humans lives.
He then goes on to detail the history of the local area:
The walled city-state of Hillsfar is on the southern coast of the Moonsea, just north of the Forest of Cormanthor where three major roads meet. What began as a convenient trade stopover under the control of the Elven Court has become one of the major powers of the Moonsea, a power based on free trade and brutal racism.
Those with cosmopolitan views and accepting of many races, often find it difficult to spend any time at all within the city limits and most avoid it entirely in favor of nearby Elventree or The Stop.
Ah... foolish talk! Alysha shouts, thumping the base of her staff against the floor. Humans remember how the other races have helped us battle against the many evils that beset the realms. Without them, humans would be nothing but cattle! Eaten and bred for food. Hillsfar will learn the lesson for its racism soon.
As the elf finishes his speech, the light from the doorway is momentarily blocked by the massive woman who enters the bar. Like Ragnar, it is clear that she has some giant blood running through her veins.
She is dressed in leather armor studded with bones and carries a simple club on her hip.
"...then who would make the bark and stone tea? Did not think of that, did you?" she said, clearly entering mid sentence. She then moves aside and gestures...although no one enters immediately after her.
She looks around the room then moves and scans the job board.
"Ragnar! Come sit with me at the bar, what brings you to the Stop? Harper business? That's why I'm here."
She takes Ragnar's arm and attempts to drag him back to the bar. "This is my friend Ragnar! Ragnar, this is... er, sorry I didn't introduce myself did I... I'm Ember" she says offering her hand to shake Scarlet's.
Ragnar greets Ember with a broad smile.
"It's good to see you again Ember!"He kneels to be closer to height with the much smaller sorceress, embraces her, and whispers back, "Meeting with this Elassidil as well?"
He follows Ember's lead to the bar and greets the Aasimar stranger before ordering a mug of ale and noticing the other large figure in the room. He calls out over the din and raises an arm, "Skyreaver! Over here!"
The bard continues his story of the History of Hillsfar.
Hillsfar as it is known today began primarily in 1354 DR when the wizard Maalthiir, one of the city's councilmen, rose to prominence as its First Lord. Over the next three years, Maalthiir would dissolve the council, cement his power by merging various mercenary companies into the Red Plumes, and begin a campaign to paint nonhumans as scapegoats for all of the city's problems. At this time, Maalthiir also enacted the Two Great Laws which define Hillsfar:
The Great Law of Trade: Do not interfere with any legitimate trade.
The Great Law of Humanity: Only humans are allowed within Hillsfar.
Hillsfar flourished under the Great Law of Trade, expanding greatly for two decades until 1372 DR when Shade Enclave reappeared and the Netherese began a series of attacks that would embroil much of Faerûn in war. Allying with Zhentil Keep and the sun elf House Dlardrageth of Cormanthor to fight in the Dalelands, Hillsfar raised an army and garrisoned the surrounding client villages.
Two years later, Hillsfar reneged on its alliance with House Dlardrageth. The sun elves responded by attacking Hillsfar's army encamped at Standing Stone, crushing the Red Plumes, moving onto Hillsfar to level the First Lord's Tower, and forcing Maalthiir to flee into hiding. Taking advantage of Hillsfar's weakness, Zhentil Keep in turn betrayed Hillsfar and crushed the garrison of disputed Yûlash and invaded Hillsfar’s western territories. Within a matter of months, the Zhentilar were at the gates of Hillsfar and Fzoul Chembryl issued terms of surrender by which Zhentil Keep gained control of the Moonsea Ride.
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Beryl Ironjoy steps up the bar to enjoy his drink, then noticing his fellow Harpers enjoying drinks with the aasimar woman, turns to the barkeep, Some food, meats and cheeses, maybe some breads fer that table there.
The stout human indicates their table and fishes out a pair of gold coins, sliding them across the bar.
When the foods are delivered, Ironjoy raises his mug and throws a wink at Ember, as if saying, We be kindred spirits...
Seeing another friendly face, Skyreaver will make her way to Ragnar's table and say "Hello, Ragnar of the people. I see you stand in good company."
Skyreaver turns to the others, bows and says "I am Skyreaver, speaker of the people and the spirits. I wish you all well."
As she speaks, you get the sense that she's not just talking to you, but also to the inamimate objects at the table as well, including your gear.
Ember nods in reply to Ragnar's question and her smile widens at the thought of working with a good friend. When Skyreaver comes over to the table Ember gibes her a big smile and a quick hug also.
"Skyreaver! Hey, did you not see me down here? Don't tell me you forgot me! What's the word from the spirits?"
As unexpected food arrives at the table, Ember looks about the common room and the strange tall beardless dwarf catches her eye and winks, Do I know that guy? I think I've seen him around before, in Phlan? Oh well the more the merrier! Running a hand through her hair and giving the end a little twist she waves at Beryl and motions for him to come join them.
"Hey, I'm Ember. You certainly seem to have a strange look about you, though not as strange as some... what's with all the dwarvish getup?"
All worry about having to disguise herself to get into Hillsfar seems to have completely flown from Ember's mind...
The supremacy of Zhentil Keep was short-lived. In 1383 DR, the Netherese overran the Zhents and razed Zhentil Keep and the Citadel of the Raven. The Zhent troops occupying Hillsfar territory lost support from their homeland and abandoned their posts. The city fell to chaos for three years until 1386 DR when Maalthiir reappeared with a new force of Red Plumes. Marching to Hillsfar, he reinstalled himself as First Lord. He blamed the fall of Hillsfar on fey'ri of House Dlardageth, a demonic strain of elves, as well as on the freedoms the Zhents had offered to the nonhumans in their ranks. Maalthiir’s anti-nonhuman rhetoric played well among the general populace who had suffered in the absence of order. All nonhumans within the city were evicted, including half-humans such as half-elves and half-orcs, and all holdouts were sent to the Arena for a month-long series of celebratory games.
In 1394 DR, Maalthiir noted that the elves of Myth Drannor were a very real threat to Hillsfar without Hillsfar's former alliances. To appease the Elven Court in Myth Drannor, he relaxed his policies related to The Great Law of Humanity as applied to the territories surrounding Hillsfar and formed a council made up of humans, half-elves, and elves willing to do business with Hillsfar's neighbors on behalf of the First Lord. This puppet council was little more than a show, but it was enough to encourage renewed trade and a neutrality pact between Myth Drannor and Hillsfar, despite the city’s prevalent racist policies.
The human warrior pulls up a chair, twirls it backwards, then straddles it, resting his arms on the back of it, responding with a smile, Well, lass, I was adopted, don't ye know. The dwarves of Icewind Dale took me in, when I was found as a wee babe on the merchants trail from Bryn Shander to Caer-Konig. The taught me the riddle o' steel among other things, and I guess I was a good student.
He shifts his shoulder as he speaks, his cloak pin, a small silver harp flashing into sight ever briefly.
He turns to Ragnar with a nod, then looks to the rest of the table, Well, ain't we a merry bunch? Won't make it easily into Hillsfar, without some work anyways.
"I think it scarcely matters whom I sit with, I will draw attention in this place regardless."
"No, Ember, I have not forgotten you. I trust you are well spirit?"
Hillsfar today:
In 1460 DR, Maalthiir died in a failed attempt to achieve lichdom. In his stead, an ineffectual council of merchants and guildmasters assumed control of Hillsfar. Several members of both the council and the Red Plumes put themselves forward as the next First Lord, leading to fighting in the streets between their supporters.
Torin Nomerthal, a commander among the Red Plumes, formed an alliance that became the Tower Guard; the alliance was made up of the Red Plumes, the city's Mages' Guild, various mercenary companies, and those pockets of Netherese soldiers whose allegiance could be bought. In 1487 DR, the flying Netherese city of Thultanthar fell upon Myth Drannor, destroying both cities. First Lord Torin Nomerthal, who had renamed the Tower Guard as the Red Plumes, executed the remaining Shadovar and, fearing no elven reprisal, began the second purge of nonhumans from Hillsfar.
He also firmly reasserted the Great Laws within the walls of the city, cultivating a manic xenophobia among the human citizens. Although nonhumans are allowed to live and work outside the city, Torin has since implemented punitive laws and harsh taxes that have made all nonhumans little better than serfs. Once again, the only nonhumans within the city are found at the Arena, waiting for death or glory at the whim of the baying Hillfarian crowds.
Ironjoy looks at each member sitting that the table, taking them in each in kind then nods to himself, The name's Ironjoy, Beryl Ironjoy. Are ye all lookin' ta take on this mission into Hillsfar?
Alysha listens to the story attentively, nodding in agreement at times.
Yes, I be. Someone else... younger... was to be called, but her fate was altered, and I am to take her place in this, Alysha says.
The dwarf-man looks at Alysha, cocking his head at her cryptic and laughs, Well, then, have a drink and eat! You will need your strength, elder.
"The spirits have sent me here, but I do not know why."
Religion in Hillsfar:
Religion is not the driving force in Hillsfar that it is in other Moonsea cities. Due to its tumultuous history with the Zhentarim, Hillsfar has no appreciable following of Bane. Instead, due to the city’s extensive brewing industry, the worship of both Lliira and Chauntea are much more popular. The House of Happiness appears a lively festhall where ribbons and flowers decorate the walls and ale and mead are served by Lliira's Joydancers. All are welcome in Lliira's hall.
Musicians and dancers performing for the intoxicated worshippers who leave their troubles at the door. The temple of Chauntea is a modest building called Lastholme that is frequented by farmers. Home to much sought after mead, the Earthmother's followers do a brisk trade in food and drink and operate a bustling orphanage; recently expanded to make room for Hillsfar's growing flood of unwanted babies.
The followers of Tempus congregate at the Vault of Swords. While regular attendees of the games in the Arena, it is no secret that the Battleguards do not support the enslavement of nonhumans who are forced to fight to the death for nothing more than the crime of being born. The words from the Tempuran Litany "Disparage No Foe and Respect All" is carved above the doors to the temple; a silent protest for the wrongs done within the city. Small unstaffed shrines to Umberlee, Malar, and Torm can also be found in the city.
The Great Law of Humanity
Life in Hillsfar is harsh for nonhumans. There are only two ways to enter the city, via the Docks and the city’s sole gate. The Red Plumes interview everyone attempting to enter, looking for nonhumans in magical or mundane disguises. Those captured at the gate, coming off a boat, or found within the city are immediately sentenced to the Arena until such time as they die. Their lives are not often long. The bodies of nonhumans who die in the Arena are blessed clerics of Tempus and then ground into fertilizer for the surrounding farms.
--------------------------
And with that somber tone, the Bard's tale ends.
Alysha produces a copper coin and gives it to the bard. On seeing his grimace Alysha says I'm just a poor wretch and this is all I can afford. But I appreciate your telling of the tale and that deserves the gift. May the Fates shine upon you that you tell the stories for many more years, Alysha says.
This Hillsfar sounds like a terrible place, Ironjoy grumbles as he tosses a silver into the bard's hat. Where in tarnation is that elfmaid?
Skyreaver nods at Beryl's comment and says "Perhaps this is why he spirits have guided me here. Perhaps they seek change? I can only hope they do not seek vengeance."
"I concur, I find myself driven here, and while we are small group to change the nature of a city, greater things have been done with less."
The bard thanks you for your donations, and hands your table a slip of paper, passed discreetly.
The note provides instructions to meet in a back room. Once there, Elanil provides you with spoken instructions to meet Isthana Ro and directions to her whereabouts.
The directions given to you by Elanil have proven to be very accurate. As you follow the deer run, the trees give way to a small clearing. In front of you is a tree that has been overturned, most likely due to weather. Its enormous roots form a tangle where the tree lifted the ground underneath it when it fell. The tree's bark has been stripped in patches, indicating that the deer travel here to wear down the velvet on their antlers.
Beryl smiles at Skyreaver and Scarlet with a nod, Ahhh, kindred spirits.
--
Beryl Ironjoy stands with his hands on his hips, looking over the scene. Suddenly, his head cocks to the side. Moving toward the roots, he crouches before them, Well now, come see here...
You head down the stairs and eventually make your way to a series of dark damp earthen packed tunnels.
Tunnels vary from 10-20 feet wide and up to 40 feet tall. The walls have a thick coating of muck on them, making it very difficult to climb.
The sound of running water and dripping is
constant here. The slightest sound created by the characters echoes throughout the chamber. In some areas, stinking, muck-filled water flows in 3-foot-deep channels.
And if it is not already obvious, the smell certainly identifies your location: the sewers.
As you walk, the dank passage opens up ahead into a room; dimly lit by a single torch. Most of the irregular-shaped walls are made of the same packed earth as the walls of the tunnel behind you, however, a wide patch of wall across from the entrance is reinforced with well-fitting stone blocks. You can hear the faint sound of running water from the other side of the stone wall. There are no other exits from this room. Beside the wall, and seated on a rock with a silk handkerchief
draped over it is a well-dressed, immaculately-groomed, human female wearing filthy, tall leather boots. Seeing you, she smiles.
This is Isthana Ro. She greats you warmly, and happily shakes every person's hand in turn and surveys the party make up; her gaze lingering a moment or two longer on those that are obviously not human.
Pleased ta meetcha. Now let us get down to iron tacks, whattaya need that this ragtag band might help with? Beryl says with scrutinizing gaze.
Ragnar greets the woman and otherwise stays silent, glad to have his companion from the Harpers here to be the voice.
"You call, we answer, what do you need." Scarlet sees no reason to not be straightforward.
"Ugh!" Exclaims Ember as she trudges along behind Ragnar, "We won't need disguises by the time we've got through this lot... we'll all come out looking like muck monsters!" she does her best to keep the worst of the filth off her cloak
When the party reaches Isthana she becomes totally distracted by finding somewhere to perch so she can start cleaning herself off with prestidigitation and doesn't even notice the woman giving her an extra long look.
"Er, Hi I'm Ember. Sorry about, you know... " she says, shaking Isthana's hand and then indicating her face.
Alysha does not shake the woman's hand. Our meeting was meant to be, but I cannot see further than that, she says.
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The little kobold slipped into The Stop behind a pair of merchants. He found it best not to enter busy establishments on his own. The less attention the better. Now he just needed a stiff drink and a corner to nap -- Jiro froze in his tracks. Across the bar was Gavin Urlandon. The dumb brute was an easy mark to swindle a few gold from, but unfortunately, he took it far worse than most. Jiro had barely escaped with unfileted the last time.
He looked around nervously, debating whether to rush back out the door or find somewhere to hide in here. Then he saw his opportunity. A group of odd races gathering together... and were they.... Jiro prayed to every deity he could think of... Yes! They were introducing each other. Some seemed to know each other, and others not. A mishmash group like this was likely no social meeting.
Jiro took a deep breath and approached the odd gathering of big folk - and a couple of them were very big folk.
"Hey, sorry if I'm late! The... other guy couldn't make it, so he sent me. Tried to hurry to be here on time, but yeah, well, you know how the roads are these days!" Then he tries to change the subject by pointing to the elf bard, "Hey with an act like that, no wonder he's not allowed in Hilsfar, am I right? Ha!"
As the group hopefully welcomes him, he quietly follows them into the meeting and down into the sewers ("Ah... reminds me of home.").
Meeting Isthana Ro, Jiro bows deeply. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. How may we be of service?"
Beryl looks in surprise at the little kobold, trying to read the little one's intentions. Greetings, little one, the stocky human says in a measured tone, Yer folk do not hold a great reputation... What say ye?
--
To Ember, she says, Oh, I know what you mean. I hate this muck. It's why I wear long boots.
To the rest, she says, We are here on a secret mission, and I need people who are sympathetic to the plight of non-humans in this region. I hope my sources have been correct and that is you.
What we're doing is sneaking into the city, donning some disguises, and then trying to steal some information from First Lord Torin Nomerthal during a masquerade.
If that's acceptable to you, then please, follow me. We have some distance to travel and we're on a schedule.
I can answer questions as we walk.
Upon your agreement, Isthana approaches the stone brick wall and runs her hands gently over a few of the bricks. She appears to catch something with the tip of a finger, and almost immediately, the outline of a door appears on the wall. The woman grips the edge and pulls it aside, revealing the dark tunnels beyond. The dark sewers beneath Hillsfar, and unfortunately the stench that fills them, await. Follow me close. You can get lost quite easily in the underbelly of the Great City of Hillsfar.
What is this information that we be thievin'? How is it going ta be helpin' non-humans? Beryl says as he tromps through the mud, heedless of the muck.
As a non-human myself, I think that is a safe assumption. I dislike deceit and thievery, but I acknowledge the need" Scarlet bristles but follows closely.
There are two pieces of information we require, but it takes a little bit of explaining to understand why, she says, stepping over a puddle.
Stop walking so fast; you're going to splash on my new coat.
Now, the Harpers have started a campaign to change the First Lord's stance on non-humans, and there just happens to be an opportunity for them to advance that goal. My own guild agrees with the Harpers, and we've formed an alliance to accomplish that goal.
First, there's reason to believe that the First Lord's court has been infiltrated by one or more agents from Maerimydra. Harper spies have concerns about this rumor, and so do I. Identifying these agents can go a long ways towards changing the First Lord's mind.
Why? Two reasons. One, the drow hate surface races and would love it if they could manipulate the humans against the non-humans. And two, we can use this information to convince him that the drow are manipulating him, thereby making him softer on non-humans.
The second rumor is that the First Lord is taking a trip to Yülash to meet the Damaran leaders. This is rare - he practically never leaves. When he does, he will be taking his court. That's the time when we can eliminate the drow agents. We need you to steal his schedule for the next few months.
If the First Lord discovers that his schedule has been compromised, he will change his plans and it will ruin our opportunity to eliminate the spies. So whatever you do, do not get caught with his schedule on your person.
So that's it - identify the agents and get a copy of his schedule.
At this point, after travelling through the sewers for some time, the sound of splashing water and squeaking rats becomes much louder than the ambient sounds.
The sound is coming from a short side passage off the main tunnel. A quick investigation reports that there is a small hoard of rats scampering over a man-sized buldge floating in the water.
Hold up, ye mean to tell me that proving that the blasted drow are manipulatin' this First Lord will make him softer on non-humans? Wouldn't ye think that would reinforce his distrust of non-humans? Beryl slows his tromping, attempting to be a little more cognizant of his splashing.
We do not want him to discover that he's being manipulated by the underdark. That will hurt our chances at convincing him to he softer on non-humans. So you have to identify them without it being discovered that they are there.
And, when we do? Beryl's eyebrow raises slightly.
Noticing the rats, Just a minute, lass.
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"Hey, sorry if I'm late! The... other guy couldn't make it, so he sent me. Tried to hurry to be here on time, but yeah, well, you know how the roads are these days!" Then he tries to change the subject by pointing to the elf bard, "Hey with an act like that, no wonder he's not allowed in Hilsfar, am I right? Ha!"
Ragnar studies the small creature with narrowed eyes, noting that he had come to this point having never met a kobold that wasn't making poor attempts to kill him. That, along with remarking about filling in for some other person he wasn't expecting made him a bit suspicious of the kobold. Ragnar spent the trip into the sewers keeping himself between the kobold and Ember. He knew Beryl and Skyreaver could handle themselves should the kobold prove to be a traitor, and Ragnar's priority was protecting his friends. He would protect the others if he could, but they were secondary.
As the group discovers the rat swarm, he draws his battleaxe in case they should come at the group.
Ember smiles and waves at Jiro as the little Kobold introduces himself. "Welcome! I'm Ember!" throughout the sewer trip she frustrates Ragnar by continually trying to slip around him to question Jiro on all things Kobold...
"Hey Jiro, when little Kobold hatches from an egg who takes care of it? It's parents? Or is it more of a communal thing?"
"Hey Jiro, what about love? To Kobolds form strong attachments to, like one other particular Kobold?"
"Sorry Jiro, another question... Is it true that a lot of Kobold tribes worship dragons? Have you ever met a Dragon?
"Jiro, later when we've got more time, would you mind if I made a sketch of you and, er took some measurements? Head circumference, hand span, that sort of thing... Would you say your average, small or large for a Kobold?"
When the group reaches the rats Ember makes a face of disgust. "Ugh, do you think there's a body under there Beryl? Not the eternal rest I'd want for my body...