| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
A stone's throw from the southern Fangwood Forest, Phaendar is a small town nestled along the bank of the Marideth River. Trade comes through the town over Phaendar Bridge, the only suitable place to traverse the swift, rapid-coursed river for 50 miles in either direction. The town of 400 residents rarely sees any excitement, making the Market Festival a major source of news, entertainment, and revenue. The 2-day affair, held once every 3 months, gathers farmers and herders from across the Nesmian Plains, as well as woodcutters from the nearby Fangwood and prospectors from the Hollow Hills, to trade for supplies and raw materials. Even traders from the “big city” of Tamran make their way from hundreds of miles away to the event, swelling the town’s population to half again its normal size.
Indeed, many come solely to hear Aubrin the Green — the retired Chernasardo Ranger-turned-Caydenite cleric — recount bawdy tales of adventure from her youth. You find yourselves gathered for such a telling at the Taproot Inn, a two-story building built out of green-stained timber and capped with a pine shake roof. A wooden statue of a rearing grizzly bear guards the front door. Ownership of the Taproot changes often as proprietors struggle or grow bored. It currently belongs to Jet, a recent transplant to Phaendar of mixed Shoanti and Varisian descent, with twin black braids, black eyes, and a distinctive teal scarf worn around her waist.
Outside, the celebration continues, as raucous shouts carry on the night air. Warmed by the firelight after a long day, any levity comes as a welcome reward to the rough, earthy souls of this riverside trade town.
“So there I am, thinking, when will I ever be able to talk to a bear again? So before the grizzly can stand back up, I turn to it and say, ‘All I need is the honey. You can keep the bees!’” The room erupts into laughter as Aubrin finishes her winding story and takes another drink from her tankard. “But it’s fine now. All’s good. She named a cub after me. Someday I’m going to have to check in on little Ow Oh Gods That’s Too Many Bees.”
Aubrin gives a little mock bow to the gales of laughter from the crowd before heading over to the bar. Other members of the crowd begin to share their own boasts and jokes.
Kudera walks into the Taproot Inn just as Aubrin the Green finishes the punch line of her last joke. Though she missed the joke, Kudera can't help but smile.
That Aubrin, Kudera thinks. She never fails to entertain.
Looking around, Kudera sees many familiar faces and a few new ones. Many of those she'd had the chance to heal over the last few years nod at her when she looks in their direction.
Kudera stares at Aubrin for a moment then mutters, "I wonder if she knows anything about my guardian..."
"Speak up, I don't like it when you talk so low that I can't understand you," Moz, Kudera's raven familiar, says.
Pulled from her thoughts, Kudera sighs as she looks at the bird perched on her left shoulder. She'd grown so used to the fellow that she hardly noticed he was there... until he talked. That was hard to miss.
"I didn't mean to leave you out of the conversation, Moz. I was more thinking out loud than anything."
Moz just shook his little bird head, prompting Kudera to sigh again.
Dozens of men and women of various ages and races were sharing jokes and laughing together in the Inn. Kudera enjoyed good company, but she was rarely the one to initiate the conversation.
"If you're not going to talk to me, at least socialize with others of your size. You look out of place sitting by yourself in the back of a crowded inn," Moz says.
"I suppose you're right, though that's rarely surprising," Kudera replies.
Standing up, she scans the room before picking a table with some familiar faces and one or two new ones.
Socialize with others of your size, Kudera thinks, Moz knows how to put me in my place.
Kudera waves to those at the table she selected and walks over to join them.
Today had proven to be quite exciting for Clementine. The Market Festival was always a delight to attend, what with all the merchants, the games, the goods, the food, the singing... Well, her living sort of depended on that last one. She knew her way around a fight, but never really applied herself to to hunting and gathering her neighbors seemed so accustomed to, nor did hard labor in a forge or tannery capture her attention. But she loved to sing, and the people of the Taproot seemed to appreciate it too. It was never anything great, but it helped her survive. And the Market Festival was always a great time to get a little more.
But the blond halfling's plans changed. Aubrin's arrival overshadowed her own and her fame and stories gathered a larger crowd then she ever could... including herself. She couldn't hold ill will for the adventurer. The ex-ranger was an excellent orator, and her jokes had brought back fond memories of her older brother. So there she stood, dressed in light leather armor, rapier strapped to her side, light blue eyes and smile both wide in awe, and little hands clapping.
"Wonderful story, Miss Aubrin! I'd have been on the edge of my seat if this place had any my size." She said, attempting her make her own joke. "Any plans on changing that, Miss Jet?" she added, turning to the bar's current owner.
Dalvin Arikani laughs and claps his hands as Aubirn bows. Big people humor rarely made sense to him, but he always loved physical comedy at the expense of someone else. The green-skinned gnome is perched on top of a table drinking from his own special mug, surrounded by a few other patrons. He was in town, as everyone was, for the Market Festival. A trapper by trade, Dalvin has brought a multitude of furs and hides from his home in Fangwood Forest to sell. Most of his goods had been sold during the day, and what is left currently sits, along with his regular gear, in a pack fastened to his dog Drako.
Dalvin looks down at Drako, who lies under the table and appears to be taking a well earned rest despite the noise. He grins as he watches the small dog scratch himself in his sleep, and begins to scratch his own orange hair in sympathy.
As he turns his attention back to the room, he notices a familiar young woman walking towards the table. Oh, the girl with the raven! he thinks as he cheerfully waves.
"Don't worry, Drako's asleep!" he says, grinning. "Kudera, right?"
Getting up from his seat at the Taproot, Arthorion bends slightly over the table and shakes hand with the man across him. "Alright then, Mr. Teedle. I'll be expecting your sacks of grains first thing in the morning, and you can pick up the flour by midday. Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to finish your trade with Mr. Hoggarth before the festival is over", Arthorion reassures the merchant. "I'll excuse myself now, please enjoy the festival", he bows politely before getting away from the table.
Despite all the laughter and cheerfulness around him, the festivities at the Taproot feel more like yet another chore after a long day of work. It is always the same, every three months: local farmers rushing to use the mill before the Market Festival is over and they get stuck with some of their production. Though good for business, this is also the busiest times for Arthorion, but now, with a baby girl to feed, the miller needs the work more than ever. The amount of flour and grain he gets to keep as payment for the job should be enough to cover the mill's rent for a few more months. He thinks of Rowena and Flora waiting for him at home, and the long walk back to the mill, upriver. His stomach roars. It has been a tough day, and Arthorion decides to give himself the luxury of a meal outside the house. Perhaps even with some ale? He picks up the food and sets off to look for a spot, juggling a bowl, a plate, and a mug.
He finds a free seat among some of the other villagers, and sits down greeting his neighbors. Just as he is starting to eat, Arthorion spots Kudera Rivani, the town healer, approaching his table, her pet raven perched on her left shoulder. She waves timidly at the sitting men, and Arthorion waves back. He then sees the gnome Dalvin talking to her, and asks both of them to join him. He pulls out a chair for Kudera. "Dalvin! Ms. Rivani! Please take a seat with us." Arthorion takes a bite off the chicken leg. He chews and swallows, takes a sip of ale, and smiles at Kudera. "I want to thank you again for what you done for my little Flora. She's all happy and giggly again. Those herbs worked wonders for her", he says, his eyes sparkling at the mention of his daughter. "Today I got some fine corn starch and I'll bring it to your place the next day or so. I kept a good corn cob for Moz, too." He looks at the raven. "Hello there, Moz.". Finally, he turns to Dalvin. "Been away a while this time, Dalvin. Any news?"
Rayne lounges quietly in a corner, legs crossed and casually propped up on the table in front of her as she pokes through a small pouch of coins. When she first came to Phaendar a week ago, she hadn’t realized it was already time for the Market Festival again. Being on the run from Ironfang soldiers and a murderous bandit leader tends to make a person forget trivial things like that.
Near-death experience aside, she’d happily fallen right back into her usual routine, strolling through town and picking the pockets of those around her with ease. Her forced desertion and arrival in Phaendar truly couldn’t have happened at a better time.
Maybe things are starting to look up, she thinks to herself wryly as she dumps the clinking contents of the pouch into her own with a satisfied smirk.
She settles into her seat and takes a long drink from her mug as Aubrin finishes her joke, scanning the room and the people in it. Since her arrival in town, she hadn’t taken the time to get to know anyone, but visually she was familiar with most of the people in the inn. As far as she could tell, they were all good people, which suited Rayne just fine. Good people tended to be the best targets for someone with her particular set of skills.
Twirling a dagger absentmindedly between her fingers, she watches some of the more familiar faces meet at a nearby table. As they greet each other warmly and begin a conversation, Rayne wonders what life would have been like if her parents had chosen to abandon her in a place like this.
Boring. Life would be boring and unfulfilling. She takes another drink, silently toasting her friends that had bested by the gods-forsaken Ironfang soldiers.
Dalvin nods enthusiastically at the invitation and, taking care not to spill his drink, quickly scrambles over to the other tabletop.
"Hey Arthorion!" he says. "Fangwood's been quieter than usual. Wasn't able to gather as much for the festival as I thought I would," he confides. "The animals are getting used to my tricks." With a frown, the gnome adds, "I've already almost sold all that I brought to sell." He shakes his head, and smiles wide. "But that's a problem for tomorrow, yeah? Now it's time to relax and enjoy the evening."
Despite Dalvin's cheerful affirmations, he worries that he'll have to start traveling deeper into the forest to keep up his trade, a thought that he doesn't particularly relish. And Arthorion can probably tell what's really on my mind.
Dalvin glances quickly at Drako to make sure he hasn't woken and wandered off, and looks back to the table. "Has the festival been good for the mill?" he asks curiously. "Saw you still doing business earlier, must not be too bad, right?" Dalvin grins and takes a quick drink from his mug.
"Ah, yes. It's been running strong since last week. A lot of work, but I can't complain. In fact, between the mill and Flora, I haven't had a night in town for quite a while... it's good to see some friends." He bends over and speaks in a low voice and serious tone. "Now, Dalvin, you know what I think about you delving into Fangwood. If hunting is slow there, maybe it's time to take your skills elsewhere, huh?" He leans back on the chair. "Just think about it." He raises his mug towards the gnome and then takes another sip of ale looking around the room. "Lots of new faces, with the festival and all." Arthorion's eyes lock on the half-elf woman playing with a dagger. He nudges Dalvin and Kudera. "Look. Why would anyone bring a knife to the Taproot? It's a quiet enough place. Do you know her?"
Kudera and Moz both eye Drako warily as they move to sit with Arthorion and Dalvin.
As Dalvin is making his way over to the table, Kudera says to Arthorion, "I'm so glad to hear sweet Flora is doing well. Let me know if her symptoms come back. I always have time for you and yours. And please, 'Kudera' works just fine. I'm much too young for you to be referring to me as Ms. anything."
Moz perks up at Arthorion's mention of corn. If there was one thing that always got the raven excited, it was food.
As Dalvin joins them at the table, Kudera contents herself with listening to their conversation. She tends to think others have more interesting things to say anyway.
At Arthorion's mention of the half-elf woman, Kudera looks over to see the woman leaning back with her legs propped up on a table. Kudera frowns for a moment at the informal posture. It was a festival, but most people were too excited for the festivities to be so laid-back.
I can't really complain too much about it as I was at my own table alone just a few minutes ago, Kudera thinks.
The knife was more troubling. The festival did tend to bring with it competitions of various kinds, but the half-elf's use of the knife seemed too casual.
"I've seen her a couple times around town in the last week. Perhaps she's a hired guard for one of the visiting traders," Kudera says to Arthorion and Dalvin.
Regardless of how many people laughed or groaned at her joke, the halfling bowed and gave them all a "Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all year." before backing out and scanning the tavern. On one table, she spotted a number of familiar faces gathering up. Arthorian was a miller with a beautiful wife and the most adorable baby girl she'd ever seen. Despite his intimidating stature, Clem had never seen him get angry or raise his voice once... and given how many times she'd tried (and failed) to help him before, that was an accomplishment.
Kudera wasn't a mother herself, but given the way she always chided her brothers for goofing off she may as well have been. Still, she and her raven never turned away someone who needed healing, and she only nagged because she cared so much.
The third one was a seldom-seen figure she'd known as Davlin. She was least acquainted with him and his constant companion Darko, but the gnome was always a delight to see in town and he never failed to bring a smile to Clem's face.
She gave them all an energetic wave before turning to see what they were looking at; an elven woman lounging in the corner, playing with a knife and drinking alone. The singer had seen her in here over the last few days acting much the same way. To her, she was about as Nirmathan as she'd expected: reclusive, independent... Clem couldn't think of a third thing.
Still, appearances could be deceiving. And she wasn't about to let such an exterior keep her from finding a potential friend in the elf. Putting on her best smile, she bobbed and weaved her way through people up to the elf's table, pulled out a chair... and struggled to climb onto it before attempting to greet her.
"Hey there. I'm Clem. Short for Clementine. You new in town?"
"Now, Dalvin, you know what I think about you delving into Fangwood. If hunting is slow there, maybe it's time to take your skills elsewhere, huh?" He leans back on the chair. "Just think about it."
Dalvin breaks eye contact and looks down as Arthorion speaks, and gives only a short nod in acknowledgement, not wanting to go into the matter any further.
"Look. Why would anyone bring a knife to the Taproot? It's a quiet enough place. Do you know her?"
Dalvin perks back up and shifts on the table to get a better look at the stranger. He tilts his head in curiosity as she twirls the dagger.
"I've seen her a couple times around town in the last week. Perhaps she's a hired guard for one of the visiting traders," Kudera says to Arthorion and Dalvin.
"I think I've seen her around Fangwood before," Dalvin mutters uncertainly, unable to get a good look at the stranger.
He grins and waves back to Clementine, expecting her to join them. He is about to shout for her to get up and sign when she goes over to talk to the half-elf instead. Shrugging, Dalvin takes a long drink from his mug. If people wanted to play with knives, that was fine by him so long as they weren't headed in his direction.
Feeling the sensation of many eyes on her, Rayne looks back around the room and quickly notices the table of people from before casting glances of confusion and trepidation in her direction. She flashes them a smile and raises her mug in the air before taking a drink, giving them a wink over the rim.
She sets her mug down to a halfling struggling to climb into a chair at the table. Raising and eyebrow, she waits patiently for the girl to situate herself, still twirling the dagger lazily in her hand.
"Hey there. I'm Clem. Short for Clementine. You new in town?"
"Hi there, Clem," she says with smile. "I am indeed new in town. Is it obvious?" She sets the dagger down onto the table and sticks out a hand. "Name's Rayne."
She motions towards the other table. "Those friends of yours over there?" She grins at them again before looking back to Clem. "They look nervous."
"Hi there, Clem," she says with smile. "I am indeed new in town. Is it obvious?" She sets the dagger down onto the table and sticks out a hand. "Name's Rayne."
Clem takes the hand and gives it a generous shake. "Nice to meet ya, Miss Rayne." she started. "And it's not that hard to tell. I've sang here long enough to know the locals from the transients."
She motions towards the other table. "Those friends of yours over there?" She grins at them again before looking back to Clem. "They look nervous."
She turns to the table and gives them another friendly wave. "Mmhmm. Known 'em all for years now. Can't see why they'd be nervous, though. Maybe..." The halfling shrugged and looked over the woman. Now that she was closer, it was easier to tell this woman wasn't a full elf; Her ears were pointy, but not as pointy as full-blooded elf's. The eyes were pretty violet, but elf's eyes were usually one solid color. Unless the darkness was playing tricks with her, Clem was sure Rayne's had whites in hers. Elves didn't tan much, either... unless they were born tan, of course. But the thing that drew the most attention was the scar that ran its way down her face.
'Don't say it's the scar, don't say it's the scar, don't say it's the scar,' She kept thinking as she let her next words come out.
"Maybe... oooo~ Cool knife." she said, glancing on the dagger on the table.
Arthorion observes Clem talking to the newcomer, and they both seem relaxed. He shrugs. "I guess it's nothing." The miller stands up walks up to Clementine and Rayne, and bows slightly. "Hi, Clem,"" he greets the halfling, and goes on turning his glare to the half-elf. "Miss, I see you're by yourself here, so if you and Clem would like to join us at our table, we'd be happy to have you." He smiles, nods, and walks back to Dalvin and Kudera's side, leaving space for Rayne to decide whether to come or not without any pressure.
Rayne grins at the halfling. "So Clem, what brings you to my table? Is there something I can do for—"
She cuts her words short as the burly man approaches them. She eyes him up and down as she speaks to Clem, then offers a smile when he turns back to her.
"Miss, I see you're by yourself here, so if you and Clem would like to join us at our table, we'd be happy to have you."
She watches him walk away before glancing back at Clem, motioning towards the other table. "Shall we?"
This should be interesting.
After returning her dagger back to its sheath on her hip, Rayne slides her legs from the table and stands, strolls over to the waiting group, and flashes a smile.
"Hi there. Thanks for the invite."
Kudera had hoped Clementine would just come to join their table and have a pleasant conversation with them. Alas, that was not to be.
As Kudera observed Clementine and the half-elf’s conversation, she wasn’t sure what to think of the taller woman. As the inn was far too loud to hear the conversation, Kudera had to rely on the half-elf’s mannerisms for some indication of her character. She seemed nice enough.
Please Clem, don’t get yourself into trouble. During the Market Festival isn’t the time, Kudera thinks. At least Daxton and Gilroy aren’t around to encourage her.
To her side, Kudera watches as Arthorion stands and walks over to Clem and the half-elf’s table. Kudera tenses for a moment before relaxing and silently chiding herself. It’s just Arthorion being his friendly self. Even after all these years, he’s still an imposing figure.
A few moments later, Arthorion returns to their table. Kudera sees Clem and the half-elf moving to stand and join the three friends' table. It was quickly becoming crowded.
"Probably best for you to stay quiet for a bit, Moz. Not everyone knows about you and your… peculiarities,” Kudera says.
"Really? And here I was thinking talking ravens were commonplace,” Moz says.
Kudera looks directly at the rogue raven and says, "I’m serious, Moz. Once we get to know her, I’m sure it’ll be fine, but we don’t want to scare her off before she even sits down.”
As Kudera looks away from the raven, she sees Clem and the half-elf arrive at their table. Despite her trepidation, Kudera does her best to put on a genuine smile.
"Hello to you as well. Always good to meet new people. Don’t always get that privilege here in Phaendar. What brings you to our little part of the Nesmian Plains?”
Dalvin chuckles at the conversation between Kudera and Moz, but before he can say anything Arthorion is back with the stranger. That's Arthorion, the gnome thinks as he leans back on his hands pressed against the table to get a better look at the newcomer's face. Friendly and ready to help others. He recalls the day he first came to Phaendar, bloodied, exhausted, feeling like he was ready to die. Arthorion had been one of the townsfolk to offer him aid, and Dalvin ended up staying with him while he recovered. Dalvin smiles as he remembers the kindness, accompanied by a small pang of guilt for mostly keeping to himself in Fangwood.
"Hey Clementine! he greets the halfling with a smile. "When are you going to get up there and sing, huh?"
While studying the stranger, now that she isn't so far away, Dalvin stares with interest at the long scar on the half-elf's face. His hand is drawn subconsciously to his chest where his own scar sits, hidden under his clothing. "Hi, my name's Dalvin! Haven't I seen you 'round the forest before?"
"So Clem, what brings you to my table? Is there something I can do for—"
The woman's pause made Clem raise an eyebrow... until she turned to see Arthorion standing nearby.
"Hi, Clem,"
"Hi, Mr. Aegas!" She beamed at the proud father.
"Miss, I see you're by yourself here, so if you and Clem would like to join us at our table, we'd be happy to have you."
The halfling looked over at the others and responded "We'll be right over!"
She watches him walk away before glancing back at Clem, motioning towards the other table. "Shall we?"
She gives a quick nod, jumps down to the floor, and follows her toward the others. When she arrives at their table, instead of struggling to her seat, she takes her backpack off and uses it as a stepping stool to get onto the seat.
"Introductions!" she announces to the rest. "Dalvin, Kudera, Mr. Aeges, this is Rayne. Rayne, these are my friends Dalvin, Kudera, and Mr. Aeges."
"Hi there. Thanks for the invite."
"Hello to you as well. Always good to meet new people. Don’t always get that privilege here in Phaendar."
Before she could continue where she left off, the green-skinned gnome addressed her.
"Hey Clementine! he greets the halfling with a smile. "When are you going to get up there and sing, huh?"
"Not sure if I will, honestly." she sighs. "This place might be packed to the brim, but they're here for Miss Aubrin. Not me. Wouldn't feel right to try and upstage a hero."
"It's very nice to meet all of you."
Locating an empty chair at a nearby table, Rayne pulls it over and situates herself near the others.
"What brings you to our little part of the Nesmian Plains?"
"The festival, of course," she replies as she leans back in her seat and crosses her legs. "I realized I'd never been to it before and wanted to see... what it had to offer."
"Hi, my name's Dalvin! Haven't I seen you 'round the forest before?"
She gives the gnome a look; that certainly wasn't a question she'd been expecting. Tilting her head slightly she looks him over, a smile slowly spreading across her face. "You know Dalvin, I think you might be right. You'd think I'd remember that hair of yours," she jokes kindly.
"The festival, of course," she replies as she leans back in her seat and crosses her legs. "I realized I'd never been to it before and wanted to see... what it had to offer."
Arthorion raises his eyebrows and chuckles. "Well, you might have been fooled. We call it a festival, but it's mostly a trading fair. Not too many attractions unless you like bartering all day. Still, it breaks the monotony of Phaendar." He looks at Clem. "A little bit like Clem, on some days..." he sighs, looking at Clementine.
Kudera's eyes narrow at Rayne's words. Something told her Rayne wasn't there for the festival. That knife of hers was making Kudera more uncomfortable by the minute.
For the moment, no one else seems to notice the half-elf's deception, so Kudera decides to keep the knowledge to herself.
Still, the knowledge bothers Kudera and she has to bite her tongue to keep a question from slipping out. What are you really doing in Phaendar?
Perhaps the information would prove useful in the future, so Kudera remains silent and waits to see where the conversation goes. She hopes other clues as to Rayne's true intentions will surface.
"Not sure if I will, honestly." she sighs. "This place might be packed to the brim, but they're here for Miss Aubrin. Not me. Wouldn't feel right to try and upstage a hero."
Dalvin sighs, nodding. "Yes, suppose you're right. That'd be bad form."
"The festival, of course," she replies as she leans back in her seat and crosses her legs. "I realized I'd never been to it before and wanted to see... what it had to offer."
Dalvin raises an eyebrow, uncertain as to how truthful Rayne was being, curious as to what reason the woman would have to lie. However, he is hesitant to call her out. After all, everyone has their secrets, even him. Maybe she's running from someone? Dalvin decides to leave it be for now.
"You know Dalvin, I think you might be right. You'd think I'd remember that hair of yours," she jokes kindly.
Dalvin lets out a mirthful laugh, rubbing his hair with his hand. "Do you like it?" he asks earnestly, briefly forgetting his suspicion. "It's my favorite color, it is." He grins widely.
"If you want to be a more active participant in the Market Festival, I have some furs you might find useful," he adds, still grinning, with a glance towards the pack on his still sleeping dog.
"See? Barter all day," Arthorion says with a smile after Dalvin's remark about trading his furs.
Dalvin sighs, nodding. "Yes, suppose you're right. That'd be bad form."
The halfling slumps onto the table. "I was looking forward to getting a little extra spending gold, too..."
"What brings you to our little part of the Nesmian Plains?"
"The festival, of course," she replies as she leans back in her seat and crosses her legs. "I realized I'd never been to it before and wanted to see... what it had to offer."
Whatever lies Rayne's words held, they flew right over Clem's head.
"Well, you might have been fooled. We call it a festival, but it's mostly a trading fair. Not too many attractions unless you like bartering all day. Still, it breaks the monotony of Phaendar." He looks at Clem. "A little bit like Clem, on some days..." he sighs, looking at Clementine.
She turns her attention to the miller, giving him a look of amusement. "Just some days? Sounds like Dax, Gil, and I need to try harder."
"Well, you might have been fooled. We call it a festival, but it's mostly a trading fair. Not too many attractions unless you like bartering all day. Still, it breaks the monotony of Phaendar."
Rayne laughs. "I'll admit, it's not quite what I was expecting, but," she shrugs. "It's a nice change of pace."
Anything is a nice change of pace at this point, she thinks grimly to herself.
Dalvin lets out a mirthful laugh, rubbing his hair with his hand. "Do you like it?" he asks earnestly, briefly forgetting his suspicion. "It's my favorite color, it is." He grins widely.
"I like it very much, actually." Rayne can't help but grin back at the gnome's infectious cheerfulness. He was certainly not the kind of person she was so accustomed to being around. Neither were the others, for that matter. Is this what all small-town people were like? The abundance of kindness was nice enough, but it left her feeling a bit uneasy.
"If you want to be a more active participant in the Market Festival, I have some furs you might find useful," he adds, still grinning, with a glance towards the pack on his still sleeping dog.
Rayne glances down at the sleeping dog and eyes the pile of furs before looking back to the gnome. "Those look really nice. I may have to take you up on that offer at some point."
A chant picks up through the Taproot. "Aubrin, Aubrin, Aubrin!" Soon, the gathered revelers cheer and pound their fists on the tables and stomp their feet to bring the Caydenite out for another tale. At first, the retired ranger waves them away with a rude gesture, but eventually her tankard is topped off and she is pushed back into the center of the inn.
"All right, all right," she begins, laughing. "Don't shove." She takes a pull from her mug, letting the crowd quiet down in anticipation for her story. "Okay, may Cayden strike me down if this isn't true--"
A woman screams somewhere outside, a cry of panic and fear that shatters the silence in the inn.
A look of concern crosses Aubrin's face, but before she can react, the front door explodes into splinters. Wooden shrapnel sprays through the room. Aubrin screams in agony and collapses to the floor, grasping and clutching at a bloody wound in her chest. A ballista bolt quivers in the wall behind her.
Two hobgoblins stand beyond the remains of the door, cruel-looking blades drawn. Both wear weathered, but well-maintained studded leather and hold shields painted with a dagger on a field of red and black stripes. Behind them, lit by the glow of burning homes, dozens - perhaps hundreds - of hobgoblin soldiers march through the street. Phaendar burns, shouts of celebration now replaced by the screams of the panicked and dying. Above the flames and the humble rooftops, rises a tower of black stone.
Kudera's first thoughts are of her family. My mother and father... my brothers...
Her next thoughts are of Arthorion's family and the rest of Phaendar. Rowena, sweet Flora... Phaendar. What is this evil that has beset our town?
Her next thoughts are of Aubrin, screaming on the ground and bloody. I have to save her, she thinks, but then she glances at the hobgoblins beyond the shattered door. I'll be no use to her dead, and I certainly can't fight those evil creatures directly.
To her left, Kudera sees Moz sitting transfixed, no not transfixed, just stunned in fear, his feathers quivering.
Dalvin jumps off the table as soon as the door is blown open, and stares in terror as Aubirn the Green falls to the floor. Coughing as the stench of smoke begins to waft in from outside, he hurries to his pack as Drako wakes suddenly from the noise. "Shh, it's alright," Dalvin says as Drako whimpers from the sounds of screams. He pulls out his bow and arrows and steps to the side to get a clear shot. Hobgoblins? Dalvin's eyes narrow as he takes aim for the nearest one.
On the first woman's scream, the halfling turned to face the door. Her arms came up just in time to shield herself from the shattered door's shrapnel. Then she saw the monsters move in and the horrors outside. Her home was burning... her friends were in danger... They needed a hero.
Gritting her teeth, the swashbuckler drew her buckler and rapier and dashed into the danger shouting "You picked the wrong inn, you snaggletoothed freaks!"
Arthorion feels the shrapnel flying aginst his back and over his shoulders and quickly turns around to find himself facing two hobgoblings. His mind immediately travels to his family, and whether or not they are well, and he throws himself into the fight with a readiness he had assumed lost after so many years.
The fear for the safety of Rowena and Flora bubbles up to the surface, and the adrenaline rush clouds his reason. Before he knows it, his dragon claws are swinging against the hobgolbin right in front of him, and years of secrecy are out the window.
Bolting upright from her lounging position at the sound of the first scream, Rayne just manages to duck below the table as the front door explodes into a barrage of splinters.
Standing quickly and releasing the daggers from their sheathes on her forearms, she looks around frantically for the source of the blast. As the dust from the explosion settles, she sees the pair of hobgoblins in the doorway, the fiery city serving as a foreboding, sinister backdrop.
Panicked, Rayne swears repeatedly under her breath, looking around to see if there were more enemies, and to assess how the others were faring. Except for Aubrin, everyone seemed to be fine, though shaken up.
She chastises herself for staying in town for too long, images of her friends and the only family she had ever known slaughtered at the hands of another group of hobgoblins not all that long ago fresh and vivid in her mind.
With those barely buried memories once again bubbling to the surface, she glares at the figures standing in the doorway with a sudden sense of resolve. Now wasn’t the time for running. Now was the time for revenge.
Violet eyes flashing with anger, Rayne snarls and rushes towards the doorway, driving herself between Clem and Arthorion and ducking smoothly behind the two hobgoblins.
Daggers in hand, she whirls back around, slashing and stabbing at the monster in front of Arthorion.
Between Dalvin's arrow, Arthorion's claws, and Rayne's daggers, the first hobgoblin dies quickly. The second, shocked by the level of resistance from what it assumed were backwoods hunters and sunburned farmers, swings its sword at Rayne.
The blade catches the half-elf in the side, slicing into her armor and drawing blood. Chuckling, the hobgoblin moves in to finish the rogue off.
Clem cursed at missing her first swing. The fact that there was a wall between her and the hobgoblin she wanted dead was a bit of a problem, but before the second one could do anything substantial, she saw it get plonked by an arrow, clawed at by Arthorion ('Wait, humans don't have claws...'), and shanked by Rayne, whose nimble moves caught the swashbuckler off-guard.
Turning back to Kudera, she shouts "Get Miss Aubrin back up! We've got this!" before dashing past Arthorion, out the door and trying to get behind her foe.
Dalvin gapes at Arthorion as he rips into the hobgoblin with claws, barely registering his own arrow piercing the vile creature. He shakes himself out of the stupor. Questions would have to wait. But he was going to have trouble shooting an arrow into the surrounding fight...
"Drako!" he shots for his dog over the din. Grabbing his pack off the dog, Dalvin mutters some quick words in a low voice as he infuses Drako with the strength of a bull. He points at the remaining hobgoblin and simply says, "Attack."
Drako barks and takes off for the hobgoblin, and attempts to bite into the creature.
Kudera watches as one of the hobgoblins is cut down. She is still partially in shock as to what has transpired.
What... what's wrong with Arthorion's hands? she wonders.
Moz continues to shake on her shoulder, so Kudera, despite her own sense of fear, says, "Stay with me, Moz. You came to my aid when Gilroy was hurt and we made it through that. We'll make it through this, too."
Kudera looks back to see Rayne take a blade in the side. Behind her, Kudera still hears Aubrin's cries.
"Get Miss Aubrin back up! We've got this!"
At Clementine's words, Kudera's resolve hardens. She's a healer. She's been through life and death situations before. Never on this scale before, but that didn't change the fact that she could still save lives. She had to try.
"Please be careful, Clem. Daxton and Gilroy still need their cohort and... just please be careful." Daxton and Gilroy, please be safe as well.
With those words and thoughts, Kudera rushes to Aubrin's side to do what she can to mend the cleric's wounds.
"You're going to be okay, Aubrin. Cayden isn't finished with you yet. And you'll live to tell another tale if I have anything to say about it."
Guardian guide me.
Rayne stumbles back and grunts in pain as the blade slices through her armor and into her skin, hand instinctively moving to the wound, but it was hardly the worst thing she’d experienced recently. She briefly looks down to the blood on her hand, the pain in her side fading with another rush of anger-fueled adrenaline, before looking back towards the remaining hobgoblin with narrowed eyes and a dangerous grin. She springs towards it, both daggers gripped tightly in her hands as she aims for the creature's chest.
Arthorion snaps out of his rage and leans against the door, panting, avoiding the glances of his friends. He looks down just in time to see his hands turning back to normal. Catching his breath, the miller bends down to pick up one of the hobgoblin's shield and longsword, and then steps out of the Taproot calling for his wife at the top of his lungs. "Rowena!"
The other hobgoblin falls to Rayne and Clementine's blades. As it collapses, the backpack it was wearing spills open to reveal a number of items, likely looted from Phaendar homes.
In addition to this, the hobgoblins each carry a longsword,
longbow with 20 arrows, and a light steel shield.
There is no response to Arthorion's shout, drowned out by the sounds of battle.
Inside, the crowd of people cluster around Kudera as she heals Aubrin. The cleric gasps as the wound in her chest seals up and it takes a few moments for her breathing to even out. Her eyes flutter open.
"K-Kudera. It sounds like there's an army outside."
Arthorion's firts instinct is to sprint off in search of his family, but his martial training kicks in before he takes such a foolish action. A lone soldier running around the battlefield is set for slaughter, he learned in his days of fighting. I can't save them if I'm dead, he ponders. He takes a deep breath and pulls himself together, and then turns to the people inside the Taproot and speaks in a commanding voice.
"Friends! All who are injured or unable to fight, stay close to each other, and seek shelter here inside the tavern! Keep away from the windows and doors! Everyone else, come with me and engage these damn hobgoblins! Get their weapons as we put them down, and arm yourselves however you can! We need to move in groups and stay together to clear this area, so we can advance safely to go help our families and friends!"
He turns his attention back to the street assessing the situation, and looking for hobgoblin units to be taken down first.
Panting slightly, Rayne wipes the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, kicking the nearest hobgoblin body in frustration as she takes a moment to regroup.
As she cleans what blood she can from her daggers and returns them to their sheathes, she kneels near one of the hobgoblins to inspect its dropped loot. Mostly things that were useless to her, crossbows and bolts and magic items... any other time she'd pocket them and sell them for gold later, but if she was going to stick this out and fight, maybe this time she’d let the others take the items. At the very least it might help save her life down the road somewhere. She grabs the goblin's backpack and deposits all of the weapons and magical items back into it for later, then gathers the food and milk and does the same. Food was something they could all use.
Taking a deep breath, Rayne turns her attention to the bodies. She reaches over and turns the shield towards her, heart thumping loudly in her chest as she stares at the all-too-familiar insignia.
"Dammit," she mutters to herself wearily. "Dammit."
Forcefully pushing the shield away from her, she grabs the full bag and stands up, running her hand through her hair as she turns her head towards Clem and Arthorion. "It’s the damn Ironfang," she says, her voice shaking slightly. "This is bad, they're going to be everywhere—."
She stops talking as she catches something large out of the corner of her eye. Looking out to the town, her eyes grow wide as they’re drawn upwards to the large, black tower. "What is that?"
Dalvin looks back to Aubirn and, seeing that she seems to be in good hands with Kudera, runs up to check on Drako as the last hobgoblin falls.
Dalvin feels a drop in the pit of his stomach as he looks out on the destruction of the town before his eyes fall on the tower. "What the hell is happening?" he asks in a barely audible whisper, the sounds of marching hobgoblins seemingly everywhere. Phaendar was supposed to be a safe place. What was he supposed to do? Maybe I should just take Drako and run, he thinks for a brief moment.
"Friends! All who are injured or unable to fight, stay close to each other, and seek shelter here inside the tavern! Keep away from the windows and doors! Everyone else, come with me and engage these damn hobgoblins! Get their weapons as we put them down, and arm yourselves however you can! We need to move in groups and stay together to clear this area, so we can advance safely to go help our families and friends!"
Dalvin turns to look at Arthorion as he speaks, and feels shame for even entertaining the thought of running. He needs to help these people like they helped him. Like Arthorion helped him. Dalvin, bow in hand, runs up to the man as he returns to the street.
"Whatever you need, I'm here," he says, with only the briefest of glances at Arthorion's now normal hands. "Is your family at home? How can we get to them?" The gnome looks out at the burning town, trying to keep the tears from his eyes as he watches another home be destroyed right in front of him.
As Kudera examines the severity of Aubrin's wounds, it becomes clear that the cleric is in no shape to fight. Not anytime soon, at least.
"K-Kudera. It sounds like there's an army outside."
At Aubrin's words, Kudera gives her a sad smile. "I'm afraid you're right. I don't know how many there are, but the two that just attacked were far from the last. You may have to walk later, but you're in no shape to help for now. The best thing for you is rest. Try not to move too much."
Kudera stands to look outside again only to see that the nightmare continues. Except it is no nightmare, it is the reality of Phaendar in flames, besieged by a heartless enemy.
Still, the hobgoblins themselves may not be the most dangerous aspect of the night as Kudera looks into the night sky to see the black stone tower from before. Yet another aspect of their reality that seems like something from a nightmare.
Kudera glances at one of the hobgoblin's shields as Arthorion picks it up. An uncommon emotion for Kudera wells up inside her. Anger. Those were no random hobgoblins.
"The Ironfang Legion has returned," Kudera says, more to herself that anyone else. And they're here to commit another massacre.
Kudera looks up to see Arthorion addressing those inside the Taproot. The man's hands have returned to normal. Perhaps I can help him once this is all over.
"Friends! All who are injured or unable to fight, stay close to each other, and seek shelter here inside the tavern! Keep away from the windows and doors! Everyone else, come with me and engage these damn hobgoblins! Get their weapons as we put them down, and arm yourselves however you can! We need to move in groups and stay together to clear this area, so we can advance safely to go help our families and friends!"
Kudera walks over to stand beside Arthorion and echoes his words, "My friends, please listen to Arthorion. We must save as many as we can. We must show these barbarians that Phaendar is strong. We will not roll over as they expect us to."
Kudera sees Dalvin standing on the other side of Arthorion. It seems to be all the brave gnome can do to hold it together.
"Whatever you need, I'm here," he says, with only the briefest of glances at Arthorion's now normal hands. "Is your family at home? How can we get to them?"
"If your family was ever in danger, Arthorion, where would they go? I'm tempted to split up to expand the search, but I know that would be foolhardy. Time is short, though, so we must move quickly."
Kudera looks back at the others in the Taproot, so many people that just expected a fun evening at the festival, only to have the night turn into a struggle for survival. Guardian help us. We must save as many as we can.
After the hobgoblin went down, Clem followed her new friend Rayne's example and gave the corpse a kick while shouting "That was for Miss Aubrin, snaggletooth!" She would've insulted him more, but her attention was drawn to her surroundings. Phaendar was burning and there were a whole lot more of these hobgoblins prowling around. Too many and too organized to be a group of simple bandits... And a black tower that marred the skyline filled her with dread.
'This is an invasion...' she thought, visibly blanching. As ready as she was for taking on a few bandits, even she had her limits. Her little incident 10 years ago proved that to her. And though she was stronger, there were a ton more hobgoblins then bandits.
"Friends! All who are injured or unable to fight, stay close to each other, and seek shelter here inside the tavern! Keep away from the windows and doors! Everyone else, come with me and engage these damn hobgoblins! Get their weapons as we put them down, and arm yourselves however you can! We need to move in groups and stay together to clear this area, so we can advance safely to go help our families and friends!"
Kudera walks over to stand beside Arthorion and echoes his words, "My friends, please listen to Arthorion. We must save as many as we can. We must show these barbarians that Phaendar is strong. We will not roll over as they expect us to."
"Whatever you need, I'm here."
The halfling shook her head and slapped herself to shake off the fear. If she let the doubt overwhelm her now, she'd only end up making mistakes. "Nobody stays! she objected. "They're already swarming the streets. It's only a matter of time 'til more come in to look, and I'm not letting anyone die because we decided to leave the injured without protection! If that means moving a bit slower, I'll take up the rear and do all the hard work."
Rayne enters the inn as everyone is talking, stopping in the doorway as she listens to what is being said.
"Nobody stays!" she objected. "They're already swarming the streets. It's only a matter of time 'til more come in to look, and I'm not letting anyone die because we decided to leave the injured without protection! If that means moving a bit slower, I'll take up the rear and do all the hard work."
She shakes her head and walks towards the halfling. "Yeah, listen, that's a terrible idea," she says matter-of-factly. "That's a sure-fire way to get all of us killed. There's too many people, and who knows how many of them can actually hold their own in a fight." She looks towards the fiery town outside. "And if the damned Ironfang know anything, it's how to fight, and fight well."
Aubrin grunts in pain as she tries to rise to her feet. "Arthorion, I appreciate your candor, but they sound too large. Too large to fight on the ground like honest fools. We need to gather what we can, cross the bridge, and make for the Fangwood." The cleric gasps and presses a hand against her broken ribs.
"I-I know a few secrets that may keep us safe there," she continues. "But if we run, we won't get far. We'll need to collapse the bridge, else they'll just march themselves across before we can hide."
She points to the people that immediately leapt to fight the hobgoblins. "The five of you. Go and save as many people as you can. Oreld's shop, the Phaendar Trading Post, the Riverwood Shrine. I know there were other celebrations there, your friends and families could be there. You could even find something to bring down the bridge."
She leans heavily on her staff. "I will lead these people across the river. Send anybody you find across and we can make for the forest together."