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As dusk approaches, the caravan reaches the outskirts of the small town of Faldamont. As the group makes town, the guards assist in caring for the animals, then head off to find an inn for a warm meal and a soft bed, their first in days. As the motley group of guards sits around the dinner table their minds wander to the events that brought them here, to northern Taldor, and to this job as caravan guards.
"Oy, wench! More ale, and not this piss ye be calling ale, de good stuff." hollers a rather repugnant dwarf nearly as wide as he is tall. Dark, greasy hair is tucked under a stained, wide-brimmed hat. The dwarf's face is scarred in many places and his nose has clearly been broken a few times. He is dressed in rather foul smelling clothes that are a patchwork of sweat stains and blood. His armor is an odd type of breastplate, and he carries no weapons, just has open fingered chain gauntlets.
"Bloody'ell this meat is rancid" he bellows, though it's not stopping him from devouring his portion, and anyone else's left unattended.
The gnomish woman sits sipping a strong liquor that she had never tasted before. When Angus' attention is distracted a magnificent can of dwarven ale suddenly appears in front of him.
The other guards have been on the receiving end of Yasmin's illusions during the trip. Luckily for Yasmin she has also used her illusions to scare away brigands and wild animals, otherwise she probably would not be tolerated at the table.
A shaggy-haired halfling woman in a loincloth and a leather bandeau is sitting beside the fire, carving a stick with totemic designs. Beside her, a leather jerkin covered with similar wooden sticks awaits the addition of her latest handiwork.
This wild woman has been nearly silent for all this evening, taking a meal with the rest of the travelers with only a mumbled thanks. She has been close-mouthed about her past, or goals, so far, but has given her name, an elven name she says was given by her "auntie".
A wide grin splits across the craggy face of the dwarf as the cask appears in front of him. When his hands pass though the mirage, a loud, "ARGH" erupts from him, "Yasmin! If ye don't deliver the real thing in the next 5 minutes I'm going to strap ye to a horses ass and yell GIDDYAP!"
A warm and hearty laugh comes from Yasmin "Ah, come on Angus, since when can't a dwarf take a joke?". She laughs again "I know, since you first crawled out of the very first steel vein in the mountains..."
She beckons a waitress "Give my friend here the best and darkest ale you have on stock, and for me another one of Faldamont's Finest."
Shaking his head in disgust, "Lass, Ale is something ne'er ta be joked about, and ye be provin how much of a gnome ye be. Mining steel, PSSHAH. Steel be make by blending iron and coal. Ye don't mine it, ye make it." When the ale comes, Angus downs the puny mug in a few deep swallows, foam and ale trickling into his beard. Satisfied he's emptied it, he slams the mug down into the table, leaving about a half inch depression and warping the bottom of the mug, "ANOTHER" he bellows as he begins chewing on more stew meat.
Angus guffaws at Darian’s remark, ”No, I canstest! I be sure I’m not the first blowhard ta come inta this place, and I be sure not the last. If we be upsetting yer delicate sensibilities, then perhaps ye should roughen up a bit and realize we not be in some hoity toite refined establishment. Please and thank ye’ll get ye about as far as I can throw the gnome. Wait, that’d actually be quite far. BAH, ye know better’n ta make me think while I’m drinkin!”
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Darian sighs dramatically.
"The lack of refinement in this establishment has been noted. Still, it is better than the rough road and wilderness, is it not? And while I am sure that this establishment has seen many a rough blowhard, thou doest not have to strive to be one."
He holds up a piece of meat, skewered on his knife. "And while I understand thy hands are your weapons, thou could use tools to eat with rather than thy fingers. Or do you work iron with your fists also?"
Angus pauses to slurp in the last of his stew before responding, pulling some leafy vegetable out of his mouth in disgust. ”I do what be efficient. Why take de time to cut each piece of meat inta mouse bites only ta stick ten bites inta yer mouth at once?” His eyes momentarily bulging, the dwarf lets out a long belch, the vibrato of which shakes the unused flatware on the table. ”Oh dat felt good. Now, as I be saying, in the time it takes ye to do all yer fancy cutting, I coulda eaten half yer meal. Faster ye eat, the more ye can stuff down ‘afore yer belly tells ye ta stop! More ye eat, bigger’n stronger ye become.”
"My quiet is not born of serenity, but of loss, swordsman," says the small woman, breaking her silence uncharacteristically. "I would not wish the dwarf to share that. Though he does remind me of a wolf wary of others filching his meal."
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Yasmin reaches into her pouch and moves her hand above a piece of wool while making some arcane noises. She then produces the sound as if four dwarves are belching in unison.
"You will never outbelch me, dwarf" She then produces her laugh again while determinedly not reacting to Nátulcien's mention of loss.
Angus cocks an eyebrow and the gnome producing magical dwarf belches. "I dunna know if I should be impressed or offended at yer shenanigains. Either way, pinkys out when ye do it, so we dunna seem so uncouth!"
"Pinkys out? Are you implying I was not well raised?"
Yasmin takes a sip of her liquor, pinky up.
"Any lass declaring she'll never be outbelched by a dwarf canna complain if her upbring be viewed as less than royal. Our dear buckler o' swash has delicate sensibilities, an we needs ta make him feel more at ease." declares Angus, his eyes scanning for the next vat of drink or stew that he might devour.
Yasmin laughs again, a sound every guard has heard a good many times during the trip.
"Point well made master dwarf." She turns to Darian, while her hands move over another piece of wool. Suddenly the sound of light chamber music fill the area around the table. Unfortunately the sounds disappear quite soon after they have started. "Are these sounds any better for your sensitive ears?"
She then opens her pouch more fully and mumbles to herself "I better find a sheep soon, I am using wool as if it grows on trees!"
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As the table continues its debate, a rather young dandy steps up to the table.
He is attired in reds, whites, and blacks.
Atop his wide-brim hat lays a silver/blue feather.
At his left side sits a rapier, mirrored by a dirk opposite.
A fairly new pack is slung over a should with a buckler attached to it.
Giovanni smiles pleasantly to the group, sweeping his hat out wide.
Gentlemen, we have had such a tiring--and boring--journey. May we at least sits as gentlemen together and enjoy the respite?
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Giovanni then bows for the ladies.
Ladies, ah, how lovely you both do tonight. It is a wonder as to how you do it. Simply amazing, I must say!
Giovanni motions for a serving girl. He seats himself across from Darian.
Evening, my good blade. I apologize for being late. But, alas, I was...detained. She just wouldn't allow for the proper...amenities.
Giovanni slips the serving girl a coin--and a wink--as she deposits his glass of wine.
Most gracious, ma Cherie.
He then lifts his glass to those assembled.
To a fine venture together!
Angus harrumph's as the dandy forgets his existence yet again. It's like someone of his station is invisible to those who think themselves a nobleman yet to be granted land. Not that Angus cared much for peoples opinions and didn't need yet another person telling him to be more proper and refined. People came to Angus for a job, and it got done, period, and what people thought of his methods or hygene, well, no one bothered to criticize him after they've seen him work.
Nat goes back to carving her stick, tracing careful lines in the wood in patterns that don't look like much to anyone else. When she's satisfied, she attaches it to an empty spot on her leather armor, and steps up to sit next to Angus at the table, taking a plate and heaping a small pile of beans on it.
Yasmin smiles at Giovanni "How do I do what?"
"Angus and me where involved in a belching contest, care to join?" Yasmin says with a mischievous grin on her face.
Yasmin laughs out loud.
"That is a lot better than mist coming from my mouth because it is so cold, although purple suits me better."
Angus makes an effort to ignore the magical monkeys as they put on their show, focusing more on making sure any plates, bowls, and mugs become emptied shortly after arrival.
After passing the evening in conversation and feasting, such as it was, the group turns in and sleeps off some of the weariness of the long road they've traveled. In the morning their employer, Mr. Silas Gribb, greets them at breakfast in the inn's common room.
"Well folks, we'd better get moving in a few minutes. The teamsters have the wagons ready to move. We're on to Belhaim today. It's another sleepy little town like this one. Shouldn't be too much trouble, but stay sharp! I didn't hire you becasue trouble never comes."
Angus wakes in the morning with a grumble. Stretching and rubbing his head, he gets off the floor of the tavern and slowly makes his way out to the horse trough. Ignoring the nickering of the local animals, the dwarf dunks his head into the stagnant water a few times before shaking the excess from his matted hair and beard. With his hat off, you can see a number of scars across his scalp and neck, making patchwork of his hair. Placing his hat back upon his head, he fetches his pack and mounts the cart he's been using as a ride, making a rude jesture at the horse when it tries to move the cart away from the stocky man.
Nat notes the dwarf's voracious eating, and Cicero's preening. "The dwarf is a wolf, and this human is a rooster, as eager to show off as he is to fight."
After communing with her bird, Nat heads to the stables and checks out the animals, checking them for any injuries, brushing their coats and getting them ready.
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"The animals can tell when you don't like them, Angus, and will return it in kind. If you make an effort to be kind to them, they'll forget your slights quickly. In that, they are unlike most humanoids."
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Angus grunts over the karmic comment from the shaman, ”It aint that I don’t like’m, I just ain’t comfortable dealin with things that can think, but not tell me what for.” Looking towards the horse, ”Yeah I’m talkin about ye ya four legged glue pot!” His cheeks then redden slightly as he realizes those comments are probably exactly what the Halfling was talking about.
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Darian greets the day with a smile. His consumption of wine wasn't overmuch, and his sleep undisturbed.
Munching on an apple that he had procured, he watched Angus's ritual cursing of the horse. Natulcien was correct in her words, but he doubted Angus would see that. He offered the last half of his apple to the horse attached to the wagon he was assigned to, hoping for another quiet days journey.
"Are we ready to start?" he queried, looking around for a sign of Yasmin.
The caravan sets off and passes a rather typical, but hard, day on the road. One of the wagons breaks a wheel, and the guards are pressed into service to help repair it. In a few areas the trail grows narrow, and you scout ahead, scouring tree lines and scrub brush alike.
By early afternoon the group approaches the outskirts of Belhaim. A group of three armed men wearing badges approach and demand to speak with Mr. Gill. Suddenly, you notice that Mr. Gill, your employer, is being arrested on a charge of smuggling! The sheriff shows you his warrant and informs you that it is his duty to escort the prisoner to Cassomir. They question you, but quickly determine your innocence in these matters. He and his deputies depart with Gill almost at once.
You make your way into town. Once there, you wander over to the only inn around, the Wise Piper. The innkeeper takes pity on you, and she offers you free room and board for a few days until you can get your bearings again.
"Well, there goes our pay for this trip! It could have been much worse though. Let's check out this town. Who wants to join me?"
Angus is amazed when he is let off the hook so easily, someone of his demeanor and appearance are always the first examined and the last exonerated. He poignantly ignores Darian’s comment over eating the kind innkeeper out of house and home, but does restrict himself to a “normal” portion when meals are offered. To repay the good innkeeper, Angus does his best to perform odd jobs for the woman, and ensures any excessively rowdy patrons are reigned in before they cause damage. He does not join the group for their foray into the town, preferring to repay his debt before working on filling his pockets.
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Giovanni watches in amazement as his employer seems to be parting their company.
I don't suppose he will still send us our pay do you?
I guess not. Well, just have to make the best of it.
Giovanni also stays at the inn with Angus.
He offers to play for the innkeeper in exchange for their rooms and board.
Allow me to entertain your fine guest.
I shall treat them as the nobles they are!