A cold wind howls over a savage land bathed in the wan light of a sun hanging low over the southern horizon. It's cry reaches out of the lands, a warning of the dangers here.
Deep below, in the twisting caves of the Dark Lands, a people twisted and warped hear the whispers of something calling them to act. To set something in motion. To reach out for the surface and cover the lands like a cloying shadow.
They answer the call, and rise.
A few weeks ago, around the time of the Winter Solstice, there was an eclipse that lasted for three days and nights, blotting out all light and leaving Iron Bay a beacon of light in pitch dark. The local high priest, Father Juriendor, has grown increasingly nervous since that event and most everyone in Iron Bay seems to have agreed to never discuss the strange and unnerving eclipse. Everything, it would appear, is fine.
Beside a crackling fire in the Thirsty Serpent is a table surrounded by a band of would be heroes. Now they sit planning their next move. There are tales of Vikmordere tombs filled with treasure, rumors of bandits raiding nearby logging camps, and a strange notice on the board by the front door about a gnome looking for three missing songbirds. Plenty of potential adventures to choose from, but the question is, what will they do?
The somber dwarf grimaced as he forced down another mug of the swill they called ale in these lands. Grimlak wiped the foam from his beard with his stained sleeve and proposed in a voice that sounded like gravel, "I be sayin that our next step should be goin into the most lucrative enterprise available."
He pause, looked around the table and with a conspiratorial whisper suggested, It makes the most sense to check out the Vikmordere Tombs, bloody undead be dammed."
He looked down at the table and raised his empty mug and cried, "More ale!"
Logram sips on some apple pie shine and thinks about the eclipse.
The young half-elf looks confused. Not in his facial expression. No, he's certain, optimistic, eager. It's his appearance. His fire-red hair and sideburns give a strong indication of his relation to the native Vikmordere which contrasts somewhat with his lithe elven features. But that's not really the issue, either. It's, well... most Vikmordere who settle in the city adopt the more comfortable, affordable and readily available clothing of the more civilized people there. They're drawn by the idea of an easier life and they dress the part to try to fit in. Most of them, anyway.
Despite being born in Iron Bay, Alfgeir manages to be one of the few exceptions. Though exceptionally clean and a lot more put-together than your typical Vikmordere, the half-elf blatantly broadcasts his human heritage. Wearing furs, displaying tribal tattoos on his arms and carrying his father's huge sword, he looks like he would belong in the wild if his attire wasn't prioritizing style over function a bit too much.
Those who know Alfgeir, know that he's never really been on his own in the wild. Fortunately, he's fairly useful in other ways, so his friends let it pass.
Sitting at the table, the half-elf grins at the dwarf, his eyes shining with eagerness. "Who knows what we could find? Ancient relics? Weapons once wielded by long-dead heroes? And imagine the stories they'd tell about us if we had to face down the undead spirits of my people to earn those relics? Let's do it!"
His tenor voice has the quality of a young man who is purposely lowering the pitch in order to sound more mature.
A young lad scurries over to your table from the back rooms after the barkeep barks something you can't quite make out. From the water stains on his sleeves and the damp apron he wears, it's clear he's normally washing dishes.
"A beggin' yer pardon master dwarf," he apologizes with a bow while wringing his hands, "will ye an' yers be havin' more o' th'same?"
Deep from the memories of your childhood and adolescence, you recall that while no eclipse is normal, most are over in minutes. Those that last longer are dire omens indeed. Some have been the result of some dark god's influence and others have been because or used by some black, arcane, rites.
There are many dark gods, but for some reason, your mind keeps coming back to Naraneus. There were strange shadows that looked like spider's legs before the sky went black. What the Spider Goddess of the mythical dark elves had to do with the surface is beyond you, however.
"Aye, lad and make it quick," the dwarf gruffly replied angry at hims elf for ordering more of the swill. He turned to Alfgeir, Lets not be to hasty lad. We might want to be considering that the bandits might be an easier bunch to deal with." He scratched his beard trying to remember what he he knows about the bandits.
There are many tombs of old Vikmordere heroes rumored to be in the Black Wood and in the hills to the north. There are also, it is whispered, tombs of ancient and mighty giants. In fact, an old tale mentions that the final resting place of a frost giant jarl is at the heart of the Black Wood.
Most of the bandits in the region are Vikmordere, though there are some orcs and goblins. The most vile of these is a group known as the Bloodfeathers. The bad is lead by a ruthless shaman and it's rumored that his blood-red hawk sees what is in a man's soul.
More disturbingly, there have been whispers of ash-skinned elves roaming about and people going missing. Most dismiss the tales as the imaginings of a drunk, but there are too many sources and too many claiming to have seen them in the distance for it to just be tales told for ale.
You've also heard tale of a troll leading a band of ogres, orcs, and goblins. The man who brought it to the Thirsty Serpent was a mess when he stumbled in and muttered about the big brute just not dying no matter how many times he was stuck.
Turning toward Runia the dwarf asked, ”What do ye be thinking lass?”
Plate long empty and hoping for more Knick Knack crawls under the table and nudges Alfgeir with his nose. Whining and laying his black and grey face in the half elves lap and staring at him with pale blue eyes, as mournful as he can make them.
Face buried in a notebook and furiously moving a ink pen held in ink stained fingers across the page. Red hair spilling over her shoulders and mostly shrouding her face, completely absorbed in her task. Backpack forgotten under her chair and a small fluffy owl is perched on her shoulder watch what Runia is working on with wide yellow eyes.
Lifting her head quickly, hair flying in all directions and the odd little owl is completely unaffected by the spontaneous movement. Staring at Grimlak with wide eyes. Quickly pulling the book back to hide the new drawing, "Umm, what?"
Moving the book to her lap and leaning back, "Money right? We were talking about coin? I mean no one likes bandits and they tend to have interesting things."
Reaching down and grabbing her plate off of the floor and laying it on the table. Scratching the ear of the shaggy mutt at her feet, "Whatever is fine by me but I have a gnome to find."
Twisting around and waving her a hand wildly in the air, "Hey! Can I get some more food please?"
"A gnome?" Grimlak said looking puzzled. "Why you be wasting your time on such a foolish creatures."
"Whhoo?" Tilting her head far to the side and staring at Grimlak and then biting Runia on the ear.
Reaching up and thumping the little bird on the beak. Refocusing on Grimlak with complete seriousness, "Cause if I didn't Crux would scream at me all night. Besides gnomes aren't that bad. They are eccentric."
"Hah! Hah! I hear ya, boy. A musty old tomb isn't really your style, is it? Lots of strange smells and not enough food, huh?" The young halfelf grins as he reaches down to scratch the wolf behind the ears thoroughly. Alfgeir's eyes sparkle as he looks up at the others. "It looks like Knick Knack is voting for the bandits as well. Should we pretend to be a lonely merchant and see if we get ambushed?"
"Oooh, I can do a good 'lonely merchant.'"
Leaning into the scratch but whining again. Slipping out from under the table and laying his head on the surface. Pale blue eyes scanning the table for something in reach.
"He was searching you pockets for snacks. Also you never know what you might find in ruins. Sometimes it is just traps and over grown snakes and other times it might be other looters who do not play nice."
Leaning back in her chair with a shrug, "Knack, I am ordering you more food so knock it off. I really do wanna help the gnome and that shouldn't take long. Then we can go pretend to be merchants, ripe for the banditing."
A large grin crawls across her lips, "I am always willing to see Logram get into a new role."
A few minutes later, mugs of ale and plates of food are brought out and laid out on your table. The serving girl on the cusp of womanhood leans in and speaks in hushed tones.
"You lot lookin' ta go after some bandits? I hear there's a few that have got themselves a bunch o' kobolds. Brothers that ain't right in the 'ead from what I 'ear," she half-whispers.
Grimlak slipped a piece of meat under the table for Knick Knack and began to rub his hands together at the serving girls remarks, "Now doesn't that sound like something you can sink your ax into. Taking care of a bunch of beardless buggers that be harassing poor travelers." He slapped Runia on the back, "Now stop being daft girl and quit your yammering about helping this foolish gnome."
Abandoning Alfgeir's affection from free food with a happy yip. Snatching up the hunk of meat and licking Grimlak's hand before returning to Runia to stare at her expectantly.
Wobbling with the slap and sticking her tounge out at Grimlak, "It's not foolish and I am gonna do it. You don't have to help if you wanna keep being a stereotypical cantankerous dwarf you can."
Pulling the portions on her new plate into three parts and putting an equal part on the empty plate for Knick Knack and handing a small piece of meat to Crux.
Lips splitting into a wide smile, "There is no reason we cannot do both after all. Birds, bandits, and maybe some burrowing though dusty old buildings."
The half-elf leans back with a casual grin. "There'll be a story to tell whatever we do, no doubt!" He gives the mismatched group a wry wink.
"I just hope someone else doesn't steal our adventure while we're running errands!"
Sighing and feeding Crux another piece of meat. "Fine, fine."
"I knew you'd be comin to ye senses lass," Grimlak roared as he lifts his mug. He looked to Alfeir and Logram, "Now all we need is a plan to deal with the thieving scum."
Logram burps. "Blow them up?"
Rubbing her face and happily starting to eat herself since Crux and Knack have been fed. Waving around a hunk of bread while speaking, "So lone merchant while we all are not far. Is that what we are going with?"
Pointing the bread at Logram, "Do you wanna be alone or have two dogs with you?"
In between gulps of ale Grimlak added, "Perhaps we others hide in the lone merchants wagon? I have no desire to be traipsing through the blasted countryside."
"Hah! I want to see the look on the bandits' faces when a fully armored dwarf with two shields leaps from their victim's wagon and confronts them!"
The young half-elf chuckles aloud with a mirthful grin.
"So... who has a wagon?"
We be buying ‘em of course,” the dwarf answered.
"Ah, my generous dwarven benefactor! Truly tis time to take my tinctures traveling!"
"That is most generous of you Grimlak. I can split it with you, if you like." Leaning back and tucking the journal that was in her lap back into its place in her bag.
"So are we leaving sometime later today?"
"I be suggesting we start out at dawn. That be giving us the afternoon to get supplies and such," the dwarf suggested.
"You'll be paying your tab first, I hope," the serving girl says as she whisks by with a tray full of frothing mugs held high.
Smiling and digging in her bag to hold up some coins, Wouldn't dream of not doing that."
Snapping her fingers under the table and feeling Knack nose at her before speaking to the others, "Great I will go see about finding some donkey's and go ask about the missing birds since I have time. Do we want to meet back here in the morning?"
"I be payin me tab when I be done drinkin lass. Now bring me another ale right quick," The dwarf yelled after the departing serving girl.
He passed some coin over to Runia, "I be takin care of findin the wagon then." After a few more drinks the dwarf will try to purchase a wagon.
The bill paid up, all of you find yourselves in the cold, crisp air of Iron Bay in winter. A cold wind blows as you all go your own ways to take care of any last minute errands.
As the drained his mug and and went out into the cold wind he took a seconde to consider some things.
The young half-elf happily follows Grimlak out of the tavern, intent on joining him in his mission.
"We have to find just the right wagon for uncle to drive. We might need some fake cargo too! Maybe something soft so it's not too uncomfortable to hide in..."
Scooping up the coins then her things, "Good luck with the wagon. See you all in the morning."
Striding out the door and glancing one direction before turning another way. Donkeys are easy.
Tapping people on the shoulder and trying to get out some combination of, "Excuse me. I'm trying to find the gnome who is missing his song birds." or "Sorry to be a bother, do you know where the gnome who is missing his song birds lives." Though pleasantly of people do not even let her finish her question and she is left asking the air.
Growling quietly and making rude gestures behind the backs of those who could not be bothered to help.
Grimlak, with some help from Alfgeir, finds a farmer willing to part with a pair of donkeys and a good-sized cart for a total of fifty crowns. The man isn't particularly happy and doesn't look to be in the mood for haggling.
The square is busy with the bustle of trappers and merchants haggling and trading. It wouldn't be too difficult for Alfgeir to find some pelts for the ambushers to lie on and some other goods to maintain the ruse.
Just as Runia's frustration reaches the boiling point, a small, green haired gnome waves her into the shadows of an alley.
Grimlak reluctantly doles out the coin to the farmer with no other pressing business he retires to his room at the inn.
Logram gets drunk enough to meditate.
Stopping to stare at the gnome before calling out, "Are you the one with posting?"
Mumbling to Crux, "If it looks like I'm gonna die go get the others."
Rifling his feathers and bitting the bossy dwarf before flying up to perch on a roof. Glaring down, large yellow eyes filled w contempt
The gnome smacks his forehead and runs a long-fingered hand down his face. He glares at you for a moment before scurrying out and grabbing a hand.
"Dwarves," he hisses as he attempts to drag you into the alley without much success, "no sense of tact or subtlety at all. No, I am not the one who posted that notice, and my uncle would hardly thank me for what I'm doing."
As the two of you wallow in your drink, a heavily cloaked figure walks in and says something to the innkeep before paying him in gold and settling into chair at a table in the corner where they can keep an eye on the whole room. The innkeep looks at the coin with an expression of incredulity, but after biting and bending the coin, shrugs and heads to the back, presumably to fix the newcomer's order.
Something about the figure gives off an air of nervousness, like a mouse trying to keep an eye on too many cats.
"Well here is a new face, a rarity unfortunately. Perhaps new stories to tell! I'm old enough to have heard of the local ones."
The newcomer jumps as Logram calls out to them just as the serving girl from earlier comes to set down a steaming mug and trencher before them.
"Oi, don't be scarin' away our customers," she says with a glower at the elf before turning to the figure, "Mr. Halst says the bath'll be ready in an 'our. He'll send me t' fetch ya when it's ready."
The figure nods at the girl before ducking their head and pulling the cowl of their hood lower. After the girl goes about her business, the figure looks up at Logram for a moment before returning their attention back to their food.