It does not seem very practical to Cel to build a city on top of dangerous things, but he isn't too surprised from what he's seen of Altiendel so far.
Henri has heard of the underground passages of Kinghaven. The city is famous for the luxury of running water, pumped up from deep underneath the castle with magical machines made by the elves. There were rumors of people encountering dark horrors and relics of the old magic* in those water tunnels, which she'd thought were urban legends.
Henri suspects Elioden may be from the old human noble family that used to control the river and surrounding land before being displaced by the elves. The family name Aubergine seems to fit. From his attire, manners, and apparent position at a tavern she thinks Elioden is probably out of favor with the family or far removed from the line of succession. She is surprised to hear he follows the Way of Spirits, which has fallen out of vogue with the human nobles in favor of worshiping Altien.
Elioden's mention of communing with the spirits reminds Xizoh of his time with Oranis. He infers Elioden may be a follower of The Way, like Marna was.
Xizoh thinks Altiendel is asking for trouble by building a city above what sounds like old, dangerous magic.
Cel's face starts to twist in confusion, I'm relatively certain that this whole place is crazy! People don't like Terry, the city is built on madness, good music turns out to be rude...I'm over my head. He doesn't speak, and just settles into Alaina.
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Giving Elioden an exasperated glance, Xizoh says, "Not everyone has access to magic, and even those who do may be too poor to pay for such luxuries." Staring the bard in the eyes, he adds, "Magic is fickle, and may not always work. Steady hands and a quick mind will save you everytime." I wonder if he would be so reluctant if he was the one treating someone in a back alley struggling to live.
Underneath his breath, the doctor mumbles, "Sure, lets build atop shrines. I'm sure the spirits were thrilled by that idea. Anger the giant glowing spirit wolves why don't we?"
A look of surprise passes briefly over Elioden's face, replaced quickly by amusement. He says very quietly, "No, Forth does not appreciate what the elves have done. They're always puzzled by how often they need to repair the waterworks." The bard chuckles.
His expression falls from amusement to something more like sympathy as he considers the doctors words on healing. "Perhaps it is that way in Abbhen, but things are not so dire here. The elves are unwise in their arrogance, but they heal any sick that come to them. Likewise the Spirits."
"And as a word of caution, I wouldn't mention the Abbhen way of thought too openly. Some of the more devout would take offense."
Alaina welcomes Cel's contact, wrapping an arm around him and kissing him on the cheek. "You alright?" she asks in a low voice.
Cel thinks he remembers 'Forth' is the name of the river running through Kinghaven from the map.
Henri knows the River Forth runs through Kinghaven and has been important for inland trade for centuries, since before the elves arrived.
The magical engineering of the elves seems normal to her for the area.
Xizoh gets the impression Forth must be a spirit.
Cel smiles, and whispers back "I'm fine," in a genuine tone. He continues on listening to the two discuss the area they are in.
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Henri, still somewhat angry, finds herself somewhat curious as well. "You're not saying that there's actually old magic down there, are you?" She inhales the rest of the cigarette and laughs coldly. "Buncha g**!&!ned idiots must've built this place. When I was younger..." Henri trails off before she finds herself lost in her past, not wanting to bring it up so that she'd have to lie about it later. "Well. I thought this place was doomed before, but now there's what, some dark magic user hiding out in the tunnels, perverting the spirits and screwing with the townsfolk? Maybe has an army of undead at his back? My advice? Move, or don't drink the water for the next few years." She shakes her mostly empty cup of beer before downing it, letting out a small hiccup! "Imports, only."
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Snorting in amusement, the half elf responds, "I bet they do." In a more serious tone, he adds, "I doubt Oranis would ever harm anyone."
At his sympathy, Xizoh's face softens but his eyes remain distant. "Perhaps, but when your family is already distrusted, magic will ruin what little good you have built."
Shrugging, the doctor smiles grimly. "I learned a long time ago not to share."
Elioden hasn't heard anything about dark magic users in the tunnels, but he is acutely aware that over the past few weeks there have been more Kinghaven soldiers than normal working continuously on the waterworks near a place of interest to him. He thinks he has spotted Terry near there.
Elioden knows Oranis is a famous, powerful mountain spirit and patron of healers.
Distrusting magic seems very odd and backwards to Elioden - he can't imagine a culture that doesn't value and revere it.
Elioden notices Xizoh is likely the party healer, and Henri ('Henry') is carrying at least one gun.
Alaina smiles hearing Cel is fine. She gives him a small squeeze and turns her attention back to the conversation.
Elioden pales at Henri's words. "An undead infestation in the tunnels?!" He whispers to the elf furiously, before glancing at the empty glass. He looks to the rest of the party. "Is that why you're here?"
By the spirits, why would the guard hide something like this?!
"Do you not know anything about what actually happened on Mount Oranis?" Dara rolls her eyes. "We've seen more than our share of undead in tunnels, but I've never heard anything about tunnels here. And like I said, " she takes a swig of ale, "We're leaving soon."
Cel gets slightly nervous, "No, we're here to rest! Just passing through. This place is real pretty, though. I wish we could stay a little longer."
Nodding, Xizoh sips at his watered down ale.
"Of course we're not here for that, Dead Meat. I was implying that that is the sort of problem you are trying to get us to walk into, and I am now saying that I don't want anything to do with the sewers unless you were willing to pay a lud-ludicrous amount of money for my help, much less everyone else in the party." She starts running a finger around the rim of the glass idly, with an expression of stony disapproval. "What I just said is a theory based on what you've told us. That little bit of c-consulting is free of charge."
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Listening to Cel and Dara, he relaxes. "Thank the spirits." He then grins. "All I know about what happened on Oranis I learned from Terry, so nothing. If you'd like to tell me though, I could write a proper song. I'd even get your names right."
Upon hearing Henri though, he can't help but crack a grin. "Fine, fine, have it your way. And its not sewers, its underground passages carved by a scorned river spirit. And ancestral burial grounds with their own guardians. And whatever is left over from the sacred site that the elves built a palace on top of. And sometimes there are things under the water that are only spoken of in whispers. What could possibly go wrong?"
Cel frowns, "Uh, yeah, lets definitely not go down there. And my name is Cel, not Pel! Where did Pel come from anyway?"
Shaking his head, the doctor contemplated his empty mug. "I don't believe we happen to need a ballad."
Staring, Xizoh asks in astonishment, "Did you really just ask that? Do you always tempt fate so blatantly?"
Cel's demeanor turns slightly sad at Xizoh's comment, "Oh, yeah, we probably don't do we."
Elioden's face lights up and he gives Cel a clap on the shoulder. "Ah, so you are Sir Cel! I agree completely, it would be an injustice for you not to be commemorated in song!" He tilts his head sideways by a few degrees. "You are a little young for a knight, aren't you?"
He gives a wide grin to Xizoh. "Always, but in an ironic and self aware manner, which surely protects me. I find that when fate thinks I'm harmless I can get up to the most mischief without her kindly intervention."
Much to his surprise, Elioden finds himself enjoying bantering with the group, backwardness and paranoia not withstanding. Pity they won't be staying.
Alaina gives Cel another squeeze when he looks down. "I'll make it up to you later," she whispers in his ear.
Dara eyes Elioden. "How can you speak of the justice of our commemoration if you don't know what in Produs's hammer even happened?"
Dara waves off Elioden's joke and turns back to the bar. "Can we get some dinner? And do you have any rooms for the night?"
"Can you promise your friend there won't shoot anybody?" Archana looks at Henri.
Dara nods solemnly. "I will vouch for her behavior."
"Fine then. I have three left, each with two beds. You can take those. Two gold each for the night." Archana asks.
"My thanks." Dara turns back to the group. "Who is hungry?"
Cel stares at Elioden for a moment before asking in confusion, "I'm a knight?"
Dara's statement reminds Cel of an incredibly important fact, that he's a growing boy. "Extremely hungry! And I'll take a room!" He puts two gold down on the table for the room.
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Pulling two gold out of his coin purse, Xizoh places his coins down. "I'd appreciate one of those beds."
Dryly, the half elf replies, "Ah, that is what I've been doing wrong all this time." He snaps his hands for effect.
Archana nods to Cel and takes his coins, "Two hot meals." He fiddles with something just behind the bar counter.
You think Archana is probably sending the order to the kitchen using a system of magical short distance communication commonly installed in taverns and shops in Altiendel cities.
"I count five of you," Archana takes Xizoh's money with a grin. "You may have to share that room."
Alaina gives Cel another squeeze. "We'll share."
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Henri can feel herself wavering, still buzzing from the alcohol invading her system. She frowns at Aubergine and shakes her head. "What is with you?" she asks, not really expecting an answer. Still, she sighs and rests her head on the counter. "Bed would be nice. Don't mind sharing if I have to. Wouldn't be the first time." She smirks slightly at no one in particular.
Elioden leans over so that he is within Henri's sight and points to himself. "I am a Bard. Believe me when I say that, compared to many of my ilk, I am levelheaded and tame." He pauses for a moment, shrugs, and continues. "I'm not even inviting you to share the quite comfortable bed in my room here. Partly because of the death threats, but mainly due to my own monklike nature."
"I could use some dinner," Alaina says to Archana, who nods and presses something again behind the bar counter.
"That'll be a gold each for the meals," he says.
"A gold?" Dara crosses her arms. "At that price it better be fit for the King herself."
"Oh I expect it'll be a sight better than you've had down south," Archana winks at her. "And not just because it comes by magic."
There's a small flash of light behind the bar counter. Archana reaches toward it, then sets three steaming plates of food on the bar. The plates are loaded with vegetables roasted with herbs, meat in fine sauce, and fruit pies.
"Magic food." Dara does not sound impressed.
"Magic service," says Archana. "The kitchen's out back," he jabs a thumb behind him.
"Hm," Dara picks up the three plates and takes them to the group's table, handing one to Cel and one to Alaina.
Archana carries over three sets of utensils, and some roughspun napkins. "Can I get anyone anything else?"
The food looks exquisitely well prepared, one of the finest meals you've seen. You have never seen magic used casually for food transportation before.
You are not surprised food is expensive in Kinghaven. The magical luxuries commonplace in Altiendel cities tend to increase quality and price.
Cel takes out another gold and digs into the delicious food without reserve.
Frowning at the excess, Xizoh cannot deny the quiet grumble of his stomach. Handing over the coin, the half elf takes a seat beside Cel and starts eating his food.
Henri sighs at Elioden's not-invitation. "Honestly, I doubt you could handle me, Dead Meat. You'd be lucky to still have any... equipment, you bring up something like that again." She pulls a knife from her jacket and starts twirling it idly between her fingers. "I could always reinforce that monkish behavior if you'd like." At the mention of expensive meals, however, Henri grimaced. It was just another thing to add onto the long list of reasons she didn't want to be back in Altiendel. She forked up a gold coin alongside her companions, however.
Elioden grins at Archana and tosses a gold as well. "One of your fine establishment's meals for me as well. I promise to get the crowd back in a drinking mood once I'm done."
He winks at Henri. "A kind offer, but I learned my lesson from the last gun carrying elfin warrior to cross my path. Did you know that there are injuries that Altien's priests get quite embarrassed when fixing?"
Elioden then turns all his attention to Dara. "Well you better make sure I do a proper job of it then. What did happen thats gotten you so much attention?"
Archana shuffles another two warm plates of food over to the table for Henri and Elidoen.
"You've got ten minutes or I'm renting your room," Archana snaps at Elioden.
"Why are you so interested?" Dara asks Elioden suspiciously.
Elioden puts on a longsuffering expression. "Ah, my performances are so underappreciated." He then shrugs and digs into the food with gusto.
Between mouthfuls he answers Dara. "Because something big happened, and I suspect its going to upset things here. Furler spins like a weathercock to the winds of politics, and right now he's turning for you."
Elioden's hints at complications reignite the day's frustrations within the Wolf. Alaina tosses her fork down on her empty plate, downs her ale, and slams the mug down on the table. "Let's go upstairs," she says to Cel, squeezing just above his knee.
"I'm pretty tired myself," Dara says, ignoring Elioden and whatever is happening under her table across from her. "Let's meet back here at dawn."
"Your keys," Archana stops at the table again, handing smooth metal keys to Cel, Dara, and Xizoh. "Rooms 4, 5, and 7. Each with two beds," he points to a dark hallway on the other side of the bar leading to another wing of the inn.
You notice two of the patrons, an elf in a Kinghaven guard uniform and a human in traders' clothes, are still watching the party's table intently from across the bar, whispering to eachother. It's hard to tell from their glances if they are more interested in the party or the bard.
As Cel leaves with Alaina he whispers to her, "Hey, I think I think those two over there are watching us," and points toward two people across the bar as non-chalantly as he can.
Taking his key, Xizoh casually turns his neck to a satisfying pop. Who are they?
The Wolf has had enough complications for one day. "Let them," she says, tugging on Cel's tunic until they reach their room. She hurriedly unlocks the door, leading Cel inside with a kiss.
If Cel has the chance to glance around the room, he sees two large and comfortable-looking wooden beds made with soft pillows and quilts, a spacious wooden chest outfitted with a lock and reinforced with iron bars, and an unlit fireplace with wood stacked next to it.
Cel notices the room is quite warm even without a fire, and the light seems to come from glowing orbs on the walls. He suspects the orbs are magic. Compared to the Wolf and Bear, this room is luxurious.
After hearing Cel's warning, Xizoh quickly spots the tavern patrons watching their table. An elf in a Kinghaven guard uniform and a human in traders' clothes are whispering to each other and shooting cold glances toward the party.
Xizoh does not recognize them, but he thinks he spots one of them trying to count how many are in the party. He suspects they are comparing the party to a story they've heard about Southtown, perhaps Elioden's. It's hard to tell if their unfriendliness is due to the party's treatment of the tavern's resident bard, or something else.
"I'd be more surprised if someone you propositioned hadn't already shot you, Dead Meat." Henri leans back in her chair.
Still twirling her knife, Henri stares directly at the table Xizoh just glanced at. She smirks when the guard and trader look away.
Dara looks over to see who Henri is staring at. She leans toward Henri and whispers urgently, "Could we please not antagonize the local law enforcement?"
Elioden recognizes the staring guard as in the same unit as Terry. Elioden has also seen the guard near the water tunnels. He doesn't recognize the trader. He suspects the pair's interest is in the party and not himself.
“Fine,” Henri rolls her eyes but doesn’t look back over at the pair’s table. “I was just going to bed anyway. How’d you like a roommate, Doc?”
“Have a good night,” Archana says to the party as they head to bed.
“You too. Thank you for your hospitality to us tonight,” Dara says, slipping another five gold onto to bar. She glances back at the Kinghaven guard who had been staring one last time before turning in.
In your room there are two large, comfortable-looking wooden beds made up with soft pillows and quilts, two spacious wooden chests outfitted with a lock and reinforced with iron bars, and an unlit fireplace with wood stacked next to it.
If you look out the small window, the last light of twilight reflects off of the River Forth. You spot small distant torch lights on the other side of the the river, but otherwise it looks dark and uninhabited for so close to a city.
You notice the room is comfortably warm even without a fire, and the light comes from magical glowing orbs on the walls. Compared to the Wolf and Bear, this room is luxurious.
Henri knows that touching the lit orbs turns them on and off.
After the music has finished and most patrons have left, the Kinghaven guard who was staring at the party’s table approaches Elioden at the bar. Knowing Archana’s ways very well, Elioden notices Archana is watching them intently without showing it.
“Nice playing tonight,” the guard sounds like she means it. “Listen, I’m wondering if you can tell me anything you know about the group that came in tonight. The one with the dwarf and the elf that nailed you with her drink.” She holds up a platinum piece. “I could make it worth your while.”
Dara is running through a dark forest. She can hear only the crack of twigs and leaves under her feet and the cawing of ravens behind her, but the feeling someone or something terrible is pursuing her drives her hurtling on. Suddenly the earth in front of her opens and swallows her.
In darkness, Dara feels like she is falling, then floating. She sees light beneath her, then lands gently on a wooden chair in small cavern. She finds herself in formal dwarven attire, seated at a table that looks like it’s about to be set for a fine meal. The cavern is lit softly by the glow of candles on the table and torches mounted on the cavern walls. She spots a spiked iron door to her left.
Sitting at the table across from her is the hooded man from her last dream. “Thora,” he greets her in a smooth voice.
She finds she can speak this time. “Who are you?”
“You remember.”
Dara examines his stout form. A dwarf, surely. She notes his is the same familiar voice from her dreams. An unsettling feeling slides over her. Sharp pain and wet blood. She did remember.
“You shouldn’t have left so soon,” he admonishes her. “It was wicked of you to get inside my head. To make me dream about you.”
“I didn’t do sh!t. You brought me here and I’m leaving,” she says as she stands. Immediately she feels a force pull on her torso, wrenching her back into the chair.
“Sit,” he commands politely. “We got off on the wrong foot. Let’s get to know each other again,” her reaches for her hand across the table.
“No thanks,” she pulls her hand away and strains against the chair.
Without warning, he lunges over table and strikes her across the face. “After all I’ve done to bring you here, you should be grateful…” He draws away, breath heaving, and composes himself. He starts to chuckle and shakes a finger at her. “Ah ah,” he chides. “Look what you made me do.”
Dara spits out the blood in her mouth. "F*ck you."
Slowly, deliberately, he pulls out a dagger and approaches her chair. “Come now Thora, ladies shouldn't speak that way,” he lectures. She can see the blade of the dagger shine in the candlelight as he steps closer. “You’ll have to learn, for your own good.” He reaches for her arm, dagger outstretched.
Then the cavern morphs into darkness. Dara hears his frustrated shouts behind her.
The darkness swirls into a large, richly-furnished bedroom Dara has never seen before. Disoriented, Dara finds herself unable to speak or move and floating near the ceiling. She spots newly familiar lavish woodwork and what looks like a private balcony and guesses that this room must belong to a large Kinghaven estate.
Dara sees a relatively young elf with dark eyes polishing her sword. Freshly polished armor and a sword sheath hang by her bed. Dara thinks her features and her ears have a subtle but distinct human character. The elf seems to be alone and she doesn’t appear to notice Dara.
A breeze is blowing the curtains in front of the balcony doors inward, sweeping them gently over the floor and catching the soft moonlight. A shadow appears on the other side of the curtains as someone silently approaches the elf’s room.
Dara watches the intruder pull back the curtains and slip inside. They unroll a piece of parchment and softly begin chanting and gesturing. Startled, the elf springs up and swings her sword around in a practiced motion. She moves to attack, then hesitates. "You?!" she says with a look of shock.
A terrible blast of violet light shoots from the intruder’s hand, striking the elf down. Her body lies staring up at her ceiling with empty eyes, her sword still in hand. As Dara drifts up through the ceiling, the figure disappears into the night.
She wakes up.
Morning dawns chilly and fresh in Kinghaven. Anyone who looks outside notices there’s been a light coating of snow overnight. The rooms in the King's Quay are still magically cozy and warm.
Anyone who heads from their room back to the tavern notices Dara sitting at the bar nursing an early Abbhen Ale and looking like she hasn’t slept much.
Cel rolls out of bed, puts on some warm clothes and heads downstairs. He sees Dara and says in a chipper tone, "Good morning!." Then he notices that she has ale. "Oh...are you okay?"