ok. I can try to get us into the cellar right now if you want. I say we don't split up cept maybe to leave someone here to mind the desk.
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"Well, I said I'd be chairman, but I wanna go along to make sure no one gets bitten too bad. And I can probly help you talk the innkeeper into lettin us in. We should probly leave a couple people here at least, so it's not just one person sitting here gettin bored. Hmmm...anyone want to stay behind while we go find these bugs?"
"I kin stay here an' watch th' door... er... chair. Maybe later we can go check th' wood shed by my house. There's gotta be some in there right?"
OK. Fred'ick stays fer now. We go try ta round up some centerpedes at a couple places then I'll come back an spell Fred'ick an let him check that wood shed with the rest o' you. We might can get some flour sacks or sometin like that at the Inn to put the critters in.
"Let the mischief commence!"
The trip to the inn was short, as the town was small. The inn was the biggest building in town, and had many rooms. Most of these were for seasonal loggers as the demand for building materials in the capital increased during the summer months. It was three stories high with room for a cellar, and was always bustling with activity and as such was a decent place to get information.
Tomid's mother was at the bar serving breakfast to the loggers and caravaneers that were staying there, the innkeeper himself liked to sleep in, so it was likely he wasn't there yet.
Tomid leads the 'team' in through the kitchen, with its quick access to the cellar. Got some help for me chores. he answers the stares from the cook as he grabs a hot roll with raisins from a cooling pan, breaking it into roughly equal pieces to share. Before questions can be asked he is away, down the stairs to the dark cellar grabbing the lamp off the stand with its striker as he descends. Cellar windows don't help much in the mornin. Sun's on the wrong side of the buildin. he explains as the striker lights the wick on the lamp.
What 'bout these tater sacks?
I ken rip strips offen the bottom of ma shirt. Its too long anyhow. Tomid seems to be wearing a shirt for a human boy his age.
Fred'ick sits in the Chair, kicking at the air while he waits for something to happen.
You are able to get three unused potato sacks from the basement, but this place doesn't seem to have any centipedes in in either, at least as best as you can tell. Tomid's mother is ignoring you right now, so it is easy to move about in the inn, and the place is still getting busier with lots of people holding conversations.
In the midst of all of that, Tomid overhears one of the loggers mention the word "centipede" and his sharp ears zero in on their conversation.
"... Centipedes as long as my forearm. 'Ardly anyone goes there because some think it haunted as well. They are the best for fishin' 'cause the meat stinks, and the big fishies like a bit of crunch in their diet!"
Fred'ick sits alone in the chair for what seems to be forever, but in actuality is only a few minutes. Then an ill wind seems to flow in through the door before an old crotchety man who is bent at angles from hard work and age. He only seems to have one good eye left because the other is white with cataracts. He had a bag hanging from his belt that seemed like it was filled with stones from the river, nice and round.
He fixed his good eye on Fred'ick and spoke in a creaky voice. "Who are you? Do I know you?" It was hard to take his tone as anything but accusatory.
Tomid turns to the others and asks Them grown ups there is talkin about centerpedes at some haunted place. But I don't know 'bout no haunted place. I figure no ones tolt me about it cause everyone knows I aint skard o nothin. Any of you know the place?
"Farmer Jozen, it's me, Fred'ick Hewer. My da helped you out wit' dat wolf last fall. 'Member?" Fred'ick smiles brightly hoping not to get stabbed... or rocked.
Suddenly, he remembers that he's got a job to do. "Welcome to the 'Dventurer's Gild. How can I help yous?"
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knowledge(local)
"Can't think of any haunted places in town. don't remember seein anything weird around. Might have to ask around."
Arkus checks with Tomid on who spoke of it, and decides to get some info from the loggers.
"Scuse me, sir? My friend heard you mention centipedes. Where'd you say you found those big ones at?"
Jaeryll elbows Arkus. "No, no, no. Stop your joking! 'Centipedes' have nothing to do with urination!"
Farmer Jozet squints is good eye at Fred'ick. "Heh, good. I got me a problem with ****** rabbits now. No need to get your da involved. They are all over me garden, but I can't find the ******* rabits' ****** hole with my ******* eyes." His string of curses hang in the air for a second, and just about the time that most grownups realize that they probably shouldn't be cursing in front of kids, he kept going. "I wanted ******* Gerad to take care of it, but he ain't here now I reckon. When he get back?"
The grizzled logger blinks at Arkus for a second, and then smiles at him with genuine warmth. "Ah, well, I suppose my secret is out. Are you doing some fishin' too?"
He looks at Jaeryll with an raised eyebrow. And then he looks back at Argus. "Ah well, whatever your idea, don't kill 'em all. Nobody else uses the old mill, and me wife has been pretty appreciative of the nice fish I been bringing home if you know what I... well, maybe you don't. And be careful, some of them boards are rotten through."
With that he turns back to his friend whom he was telling the story to and chuckles. "Kids, what can you do?"
Fred'ick sits, slack-jawed, for a few moments after the string of cussing. He's going to have to remember some of those.
"Oh... He... Er... He's 'tired. We're in charge now. I mean. There's new 'dventurers in the Gild. We kin take care of your rabbits though." Fred'ick pauses, trying to remember what else he's got to do. He looks down at the ledger and then back up at Farmer Jozen.
"Oh. We needs to talk about pay and stuff."
"Sir, if we find a fish bigger than we can carry, we'll store it somewhere for you. Seafood is known to increase the libido, after all."
An if ya want to buy um later we might can sell um to ya. An we can sell um real cheap like, if ya tell us how ta best catch um.
The logger blinks twice at the young girl and stammers, "I suppose you do know what I mean. But don't worry about that. She likes the fish I catch meself better.
He gives a friendly wave to Arkus and Jaeryll, but it would seem he was slightly unnerved by the whole conversation.
"Pay and stuff?" The old farmer howled. "Gerad may not have told you that you do stuff that I ask or I don't shut this place down with persistent complaints the the council. That's the ******** arrangement!"
An if ya want to buy um later we might can sell um to ya. An we can sell um real cheap like, if ya tell us how ta best catch um.
Please?
The logger looked over to where the voice came from, but then noticed the tiny halfling. "They are bugs, son, you swat them with your hands!" He and his friend seemed to find that particularly funny and as such they weren't particularly helpful.
Fred'ick eyes the grumpy adult suspiciously. "Nuh-uh. Gerad did'n say anythin' like that. An' Joanne tole us that all the grown-ups pay us to do the stuff they need us to."
The logger looked over to where the voice came from, but then noticed the tiny halfling. "They are bugs, son, you swat them with your hands!" He and his friend seemed to find that particularly funny and as such they weren't particularly helpful.
I don't want um dead, you bid dumb wood cutter. says Tomid quitely. But by the time the last word is our of his mouth he is already in the kitchen, headed for the back door at a run, tater sacks in hand.
The Farmer squints at Fred'ick, sizing him up and gives him a bit of a smirk. "I'll give you ****** five silver if you give me the location of their hole today minus one for every day you dilly dally. You are going to take the job, and you are going to do it before the time runs out. I will be taking money from you to recoup my ******* losses if you take more time than that. Do you understand you little ****?"
The old man seems to be a bit angry now, with spittle flying from his lips as he talks and his hands seem a bit shaky.
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Fred'ick's face scrunhes up in consternation. " ****** five silver it is. Less one fer a day late." He nods with satisfaction. He's not at all sure what ****** is, but it seems to be a word Farmer Jozen likes, so he thought he should toss it in there.
Lets get to that mill. Daylights a'burnin. says Tomid as he runs out the back door of the Inn.
"Ya know, if we don' hit them too awfully hard, maybe we can knock the 'pedes silly and catch 'em easy." Jerrie says as he keeps pace with Tomid.
"Yeah, don't be a baby."