The stories of the Inheritors' War have pervaded your youth, yet it has been twenty-three years since the war ground to a halt. Slowly over time each fragment of the shattered empire has formed into a formal nation, yet towns like your own, like Morgan's Ford, were abandoned to the chaos of the abandoned lands. Despite that, Morgan's Ford has continued to eek out an existence.
Yet with each passing year, fewer caravans pass through the once busy trade center. Though the winter ended more than a month ago, not a single traveling merchant, shipment, adventuring band, or supply caravan had entered Morgan's Ford, neither via the gates nor upon the ferry. Life in town is slow, eerily slow, and most young souls find their way to Grumpkin's Two Brews, the charming tavern at the heart of this quiet town.
Like many spring mornings today opened with a heavy fog settled upon the the shoulders of Morgan's Ford. Though the air is cool, the bite of winter is long gone, and a hunger grows in your belly.
He whistled a little jaunty tune as he moved about in the heavy fog, becuase mornings like this brought about an air of melancholy and bad memories and an ache along his chest where that old wound that had brought him home seemed to ache. Besides, he was sneaky enough that he didnt want to startle any of the human folk about. Breakfast sounded about right, he should have the coin to buy it for a few more days before he spent more mornings back home. It was bad weather for new buildings and work but such was life.
What he woudlnt give to be back with the band. It wasnt their criminal endevours he enjoyed but the excitement.... well that and the pretty halfling lass you he had grown close to. Still that was a year ago easy, time heals things like memories and sometimes wounds. He pushed open the door to Grumpkins Two Brews throwing a friendly wave as he made his way to his normal seat. He didnt have to order really, he got the same thing every morning he was in.
Heated mild caramel-toffee flavor with a touch of roasted walnut, ending in a touch of herb bitterness. It would be a tasty morning ale, if it had not been watered down and warmed. As it stood it did its part, though weakly, just like the stew in the bowl in front of him. Looking about the quiet tavern, he caught the barmaid's eye upon him. Flicking her a coy smile, she giggles, then heads back to the kitchen.
Oy, what a day eh?
He said to no one in particular as he waited for fate to make something, anything happen to change his dull life.
"What a day indeed" Alistar calls from his seat as he stares out the window into the morning’s fog.
Standing, and moving about the room, he addresses all:
"As the Light struggles to penetrate down through the last remnants of the night’s cold, so too should we recall our own struggle against the darkness. But let us not Fear this morning’s dew! Rather, let us Rejoice in the knowledge that our Savior fights evermore for our salvation!”
“Even now, as I speak, the first rays of dawn’s light are breaching down upon us. Join me now, in prayer. And together We shall sing his Praise! Let our collective voices Fortify his Resolve. Fuel his Determination. And add Strength to his ever-present Conflict for our Salvation.”
With that Alistar breaks out his worn, but well cared for tome, Words of Radiance, and begins a reading. Today's reading is of the importance of not losing faith, even when the world seems set against you. [Perform Oration +6]
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OOG: I should probably note that this is my first foray into play by post, so from time to time I may require insight into how certain things are usually handled. For example, how should I go about "rolling" my Perform skill?
Thanks
Alex walked toward Grumpkin's with her red hair swaying behind her through the mist. It was a chilly morning but to her the temperature couldn't have been more perfect. With a smile she pushed her way through the doors and into the tavern.
One of the serving girls asks her if there was anything she could get her. "A warm mushroom soup will do me fine this morning thanks."
Darry's eyes lit up when Ahq'ira entered the tavern. She was at the moment one of his favorite flirting targets. Spent so much time at her Da's shop he had to find reasons to go visit her. He chuckled to himself at the preachers sermon. He didn't think the light would appreciate the majority of his work... well what used to be his work.
"Good morning Luv, manage to work up a formula for a potion to make me a proper size to woo you right yet?"
He asked Alex with a grin and an exaggerated taking a sip of his warmed ale. He didn't actually think she was looking for any sort of potion formulae. He couldn't help himself though.
Rastvar grimly wandered the shamefully worn cobblestone street towards the promise of breakfast and the first of likely many alcoholic beverages he would drink today to pass the time. The chill in the air did not much bother him, it was always a good deal colder out on the river and the wind could turn the water sprays into icy daggers at times. Of course, he had not been out of the river for months now. He helps keep the ferry in repair but the general feeling down on the docks is that there would come a day when they would just let the old girl rot.
He could still remember that first trip he took across the river, years before the flood, before the price of the war became apparent. He heaved a sigh and flipped the collar of his coat up against the damp. Unarmed and unarmored save for a small utility dagger, he still managed to cut an imposing figure, standing a full head taller than most anyone in town, with a unruly mop of fiery hair tied back with a leather strap and the scowl. Ye gods, the frown alone was enough to make children weep. If he tried any harder, milk would curdle in his presence.
Opening the door to Grumpkin's he spotted more than a few familiar faces, half the names were unknown to him but he had seen them in the tavern before. The alchemist was well known, as was Alistar the preacher, the rest were not of much consequence to his daily life. Picking an out of the way spot at the bar he signaled a server for his usual meal, not actually opening his mouth until he was handed a mug of mulled mead.
Nose buried in a book as he walked, Evan almost passed Grumpkin's but caught the sign at the last minute. As he walked in he glanced up long enough to find an empty table, then sat down at it, taking out a scroll case and laying out a small map. He continued to read glancing at the map occasionally and tracing out a route. When the barmaid comes by he orders some eggs and warm bread along with something to wash it down. Pausing, he noted Alistar's reading, listening long enough to recall the rest of it from memory, then goes back to his book.
The barkeep Andred chuckled as Alistar launched into another sermon. It was a rather common occurrence in the Grumpkin, but still baffled him every time. Lanky for a dwarf, Andred walked up behind Alistar, clapped him on the shoulder and smiled, "I know ye be doing the good work, but in da mornin' not e'ryone is as brighteyed as ye. How's about ye take a bite, then go do ye preaching down at the market? Theres prob'ly more folks there anyway."
The two servers whisk in and out of the kitchen, where Dannan, the diminutive halfling cook, can be heard hard at work. Dannan is known for making rich, hearty food out of any ingredients that make it into the Grumpkin. In time each of your orders make their way before you, as well as the several other townsfolk in the Tavern.
Snapping bolt upright when he picks up on the sound, Rast tosses a couple of coins from his meager savings onto the bar top and chugs the last of his mead before rushing out the door.
Logan'll have my hide if I'm late to the first bell of the season.
His rush was only slowed by a quick dip into cottage to grab the oil-skin wrapped bundle holding his axe and chainshirt from under his bed. His shield, a hefty wooden thing scarred from sparring sessions with what passed for professional fighters in this town, leaned against the door frame and in his hurry, he nearly forgot to grab it too.
Setting off to the dock at a dead sprint, he did not have time to lace up his chain or slip his axe through the loop on his belt but there would be time for that on the way across the river. He was a capable ferryman but half the reason he had a job was that he made an excellent deterrent against any desperate passengers getting any funny ideas.
Alex doesn't turn to look at or acknowledge Darry. "Are you drunk again swiftfoot? Go see my father for that. I came here for a nice quiet breakfast."
Though I did not expect to have to hear the preacher here today...
"Drunk of your beauty perhaps."
He replied with a chuckle. He watched the surly ferryman hustle off suddenly wondering what had the man in such a hurry. He took another pull of the warmed ale and frowned glancing back torwards the red headed elf.
"You do know I mean no 'arm right luv?"
He added with a bit of a a hint of a smile.That poor maid spent far too much time in her fathers vials and herbs. He shrugged though put in a slightly sour mood by her quick rebuttle of his charms. He swirled the stew in his bowl in slight annoyance.
Did he just... wow
Alex sighs audibly but ignores him. She knows better than to reply and give him more opportunity to speak.
The thickness of the heavy fog was palpable. Reyanard dashed from bed with urgency as he had realized that the waned natural light did not wake him. The Mastersmith would not be pleased. Quickly dressed and reassuring himself his apron and tools were still at the shop and not taken home, he rushed out of the house with alacrity.
He always grumbles though. Getting him some food would certainly abate his wrath... or ale... at least for a few hours.
Rounding the corner to the Grumpkin's Two Brews, Reynard breathing heavily passes Rast, looking steadfast and urgent as he too is sprinting, just in the opposite direction.
Bursting into the kindly establishment, Reynard keeping his eyes lowered. Mug .... takard of ale! ... Ah, please. And two bowls of stew. I'm late. Eyes moving away from the floor, Reynard takes in his new surroundings.
...Oh. Hey, Alex. Evan! Find anything new? You know, I've been working on something great... I'm not saying what your not doing isn't great. I'm just saying that with all that sitting around you do, you have to have figured out some sort of intricacy of arcana. Well, I'm working on something better. Want to see it? Reynard eyes Alister
and realizes something.
He seems nicer when he's not talking. I wonder what he does all day? I think he needs a trade. Dad says people like that need a trade.
Reynard crosses to sit with Evan and wait for his meals and ale.
He grinned for a moment as the boy came in. Well he wasnt really a boy and Darry knew it, His sharp eyes watched as he spoke with Alex barely not frowning. It was kinda sad in a way, here he was being nosy to see if she had... that sort of interest in the boy.
He shrugged it off and took his eyes away, it wasnt his business. None of the small things that happened in this town were really. His feet were itching again, and it was hard to stay. When he had come home a year ago half dead to the world he told his folks the truth of things of course.
He thought his mother was going to die of shock. She made him promise his wandering days were done. While he was resting he learned his da had, well told any curious townsfolk that Darry had been part of a trading caravan that was hit by bandits... he never bothered to correct that story. But this small time work... it was almost maddening.
Just one more spiced and warmed ale if you would please luv! Dip a bit of your luv into it for me will you?"
He called out to the serving girl who took had first taken his order shooting her another wink. He glanced at again at the two 'boys' at the table together.. odd pairing they were, the skinny bookish fellow and the blacksmith's apprentice... ah well took all kinds he supposed.
”I’m sorry my friend, I know your preference is I not use your establishment as my forum. But as a Shepard must tend to his flock wherever they roam, so to must a preacher seek out his congregation. The melancholy in the air this morn is palpable. I had hoped my words might bring tidings of comfort. Alistar watches as Rast suddenly finishes up and heads for the door. But it pains me to see that my words may be costing you patronage.”
Alistar scans the room, searching for some sign that his words have made an impact. Finding none ”As usual you are correct. Perhaps with the breaking of the fog will come a lifting of our spirits. I shall retire to the market, but perhaps a small bowl of something warm before I go. Thank you Andred, may you ever walk in the Light.”
Alistar somberly heads back to his table, worried as to why one of his better readings, and better deliveries, has fallen this morning upon deaf ears. Dipping his head in prayer, Illandros, My lord and Savior, I beg of the' to hear me now. Father Loethren worries that a darkness is coming. Is this, that your people ever increasing turn from your light, that which he fears. Guide my voice, oh Lord of Light, and grant me strength and wisdom so that I may find a way to lead them back into your Grace.
With vigor, Alistar returns to his Tome, searching for the right passage to deliver at the market.
Logan was of course referring to the work he had done on the ferry during the winter months - residing the walls, replacing a few stabilizing beams, and improving the gear system that propelled the ferry along the chain guiding it to the other side. Without that system, no boat, barge, or any other water craft could hope to make it across the mighty Stone River's broad expanse without moving several miles downstream as well.
Driven by a water wheel at the ferry house, a toggle in the building could either put the ferry in motion east or west, or keep it at rest. Back in the day several men would man the ferry house, ensuring that everything was working properly while three more would ride the ferry across, collect the toll, then come back with the cargo. Now, it was just Logan at the ferry house, with old Votrick and Rast riding across.
Loading on, you set out across the river. It was no flash journey, taking at least the time to cross the mile width were you walking on open land. This gave you time to reflect and arm up; more a precaution than anything else, though there had been more trouble these last few years. Still, if someone were ringing the bell, they wanted to come across, and everyone knew there was a toll.
Peering through the fog, Votrick spotted the shore first. "Ah, another year, and the shore is still here. Wait a minute, that wagon, where are its owners?"
As he said it, the fog parted for your eyes and you could see a sizeable wagon, drawn by two draft horses, standing at the waters edge, with not a person in sight.
As the shore came into view Rast's eyes narrowed, "I don't like it, Votty. Call me a paranoid bastard if you want, but be ready at the toggle."
Putting a foot on the railing he leaned out to get a better look at the wagon, "Oi! Anyone ashore?" He called out, careful not to leave the relative safety of the ferry for the unknown of the unknown dangers of the unsettled shore of Stone River. Part of him wanted to tell Votrick to flip the toggle and head back to town but another part was morbidly curious as to where the owners of this wagon were. The wagon and the horses could even fetch a nice price back in town as long as nobody claimed them.
Aldred clapped Alistar on the shoulder, "Of course lad. And a tasty bowl it'll be. Dannan, som'thing special for our spiritual guide."
A moment later, Dannan himself brought a giant bowl (okay, it looked larger in the tiny halfling's hands) of hearty looking stew out to the young preacher. "Beer braised oxtail stew, garnish with capers, taters, and carrots, and of course some fried pork lardons. Should put a smile on your face."
As Rastavar ran out of the Grumpkin in a hurry, most people looked up in confusion. Rast was always in a sour mood, and didn't put much energy into anything. And why would anyone now, with so little to do in the boring town? He was solid muscle to help with the ferry... the ferry, you all realize, it must have been the bell that caused his excitement. The bell signalling an arrival at the far side of the Stone River. Perhaps after the lonely winter life was finally returning to the small town of Morgan's Ford...
While you wish you could give him a clear answer, your initial scan of the shore shows no sign of any people with the wagon, nor any obvious signs of footsteps heading elsewhere...
'Cept, now that I'm thinking of it a lot more ugly things spring to mind.
Hesitantly, Rast finally stepped from the ferry and took some careful steps toward the wagon.
This is the part in all the stories where the unfortunate thug gets ripped to shreds by a monster.
About halfway to the wagon, a cold calm came over him and his pace changed. He was no good at sneaking so he might as well let whatever might be lying in wait know he was coming. He skirted the horses, always wary of things bigger and dumber than him, and quickly checked under the wagon before trying to get a look inside.
Glancing under the wagon reveals empty ground. A sense of anticipation and excitement builds in you as you reach toward the curtain. Pulling it aside, you reveal a full merchant's wagon, lacking a person. Indeed, all sorts of trade goods fill the wagon, from spices and herbs to weapons and tapestries. Walking around the back of the wagon reveals no further information, and turning toward the wood and the departing trail, you get a tinge of dread.
Uneasily Votrick starts to lead the animals onto the ferry. "Ain't none 'ere. Less getta movin'." You can tell he is unsettled by the situation.
Touching one of the horses as it moves forward, you notice a thick layer of sweat on its hair, though it is a rather cool morning.
Dread's normal, Rast, you feel dread about everything these days.
He tried to put the nameless worry out of his mind and focus on the next couple of steps. They could hang onto the thing for a few days and, if no one came to claim it, they could sell it and split the proceeds between Votrick, Logan and him. Even cut three ways, it was a pretty little sum of coin. So, Rast grabbed the cord of the bell and gave it a few good yanks to signal Logan on the far shore before clambering aboard the ferry to help Votrick get the beasts secured
After finishing his meal Alistar thanks Aldred and heads out for the market. "All are welcome to join me in prayer as we welcome the sun’s breaking of this morning’s fog. Together let us form a joyous chorus to lift our dampened spirits!” Hoping that some will heed his invitation, he exits.
On the way, he gives a silent prayer: My Lord, I call upon your divine grace this dim morning. Bolster my words as I speak of your glory. As his prayer finishes those paying him any attention may notice as Alistar’s hand blooms with a shimmer of divine radiance. Bringing his glowing hand to his heart, Alistar draws the light onto himself (utilizing Touch of Glory to add +1 to my next perform check).
Reaching the market, Alistar finds his favorite spot, a large, mostly buried, glacial stone, lying by a gentle slope just outside the market stalls. Climbing up to the elevated position, he calls out to those nearby. Hark! All those who toil on this darkened morn. Join with me now, in Celebration, and together let us call upon our Savoir to beckon forth his radiance and send this obscuring mist into retreat.”
You know he aint such a bad guy, just needs to tone it down some eh luv?"
He said with a grin,obviously mentioning the preacher whom left to spread the good word in the market area. whether it directed to the waitress or Miss Alex remained to be seen. The grey morning made him wish for a pipe and a smoke, something he had taken up while out praticing banditry, but when he came home wounded his mother was so aghast at that his father took the things and got rid of them. He contented himself with a sigh.
With a reasoned realization of Rastavar's excitement, Reynard perks up toward Evan and Alex. Keeping his eyes down but a strange shifty flash of eye contact with Darry, Alister, Dannan, and Andred, he stands in surprising attention. Speaking to no one in particular, he murmurs.
That could only be it... Someone must have rung the bell from the other side of the River... I've got to tell Master. The winter drought must be over. Ah, Evan I'll show you later...
Forgetting his order and his production of payment to the table, Reynard awkwardly runs out of the Grumpkin with excited anticipation.
This is wonderful news. I can help the shop and display our wares for our newcomers. Some people just have a great eye for great craftsmanship and as Master says, "Ours is the Best Around - Dwarven made." Well... for the most part.
Even through the heavy fog, Reynard's pace was swift. Dodging a few passerby and maintaining his footing on the dew covered ground, he arrives at the shop in what feels to be a record time. The potential of a new season blossomed and overshadowed the burning in his lungs general exhaustion from the run.
Hello Reynard, just let me finish this passage.
Evan says as he looks up from his book. He adjusts his maps to give Reynard some room, takes another bite of his breakfast and returns to his book, enjoying the new-found quiet.
The preacher's not all that bad, but there is a time and a place.
As he finishes his passage he looks up and notices the bargeman hurry out. He closes the book and folds the map, realizing the bell must've been rung. After grabbing another bite, he was just about to engage Reynard in conversation when Reynard stands up, mutters and hurries out.
Evan lets out a sigh and takes a pull on his mug. It'll be nearly half an hour for the round trip, what's he in such a hurry for?
Then the server comes by with 2 bowls and a tankard of ale... He could've at least stayed for breakfast, and paid for it...
Evan takes his time, finishing his breakfast at his own pace. I'll head down there in a little bit, it'll be interesting to see who's come and what they're bringing after so long.
The serving girl chuckled at Darry's words as she passed by. Aldred shook his head as Reynard ran off excitedly. "P'haps they'll have some good whiskey, been on the short side as of late." As the idea spread, a small commotion began among those remaining in the tavern. It had been a great many months since word of the outside world had reached Morgan's Ford, was it possible a caravan had arrived? Some caravans were a single merchant with goods, other times it was a trade company, a troupe of traveling performers, a mercenary band, missionaries, questing knights... who knows?!
"What do you make of it Votty?" Rast said, the two of them were not the brightest in the world but Rast figured between the two of them, they had a brain almost worth something.
Any clues you and Votrick found only further cemented the feeling of dread. This wagon was both a man's livelihood and his home - he would not give it up easily.
The fog began to pull away once more, this time revealing Morgan's Ford and the western shore. Logan stood on the deck of the ferry house, accompanied by several townsfolk, incuding Constable Regard. Logan cast out the tying ropes as they all stared at your cargo curiously. The Constable looked especially inquisitive, and Votrick seemed to slink back under his gaze. Sternly, Regard calls out, "Rast, what is this? Where are the owners of this wagon?"
"We found it on the opposite shore, unattended. Horses are in good health but have obviously been running for some time. Got an arrow on the inside, no blood though. Smells like bandits to me. Hey Logan, mind if I take the ferry to the ferry across tomorrow?"
As the guard heads off, Regard turns back to you, Votrick, and Logan. "Strange though that they'd let the wagon get away then." Turning toward Logan he gestures at Rast, "If he's looking for trouble, I could use his arm in the hunt. What say you?"
Logan nods to Regard, then turns to Rast. "Lad, if you want to go across tomorrow, that's yer business. Could be dangerous, but sounds like the Constable is putting something together, perhaps you join them."
"By the Light...Orcs... Illandros I pray it cannot be!
An entire army of orcs!?! Yes, yes, that makes sense. It's why no travelers have reached us this spring. So this is the darkness that Father Loathren foretold. It is why he gifted me with his old armor and sword. Such evil and here at our footsteps. Surely that is why he balked at telling me the extent of his fears. Well, if today is to be our last, I shall not allow my people to perish in the dim. If we are to die, we shall die in the LIGHT!!!
Preparing to address the crowd, Alistar sends a silent prayer to Illandros and casts Emhanced Diplomacy (oth level spell) to add +2 competence bonus to his next diplomacy check. Then utilizes Blinding Flash to emit of Flash of Light from his Holy Symbol and catch everyone's attention. He stands back far enough so to not blind those next to him.
"Fear not men of the Ford. The Glory of Illandros protects all who walk in the Light. Call the men to arms, and together let us show these spawn of darkness that we are no easy prey!"
Pausing long enough to insure his words are taking effect, and that panic is not spreading, AListar heads off to the church to equip himself for battle before heading down to the riverside.
Rast stripped off his lamellar and bundled it up with his axe, "I was entertaining the notion of maybe finding the appropriate owner on the off chance he's alive but it's your call, Constable. Pro'lly dead already."
Regard chuckles, "Well Rast, better keep your armor and axe out, cause you'll be heading back across just as soon as we can round a posse up. Votrick and Logan, get the wagon off the ferry then prep the ferry to go back across. How's about we go find some other able bodies?" Walking back toward town, Regard nods toward a guardsman, "give the call." Lifting a horn to his lips, he lets out a four-toned blast.
The commotion is high around town when a strong, clear horn calls out through the air. "Daa Daa Doooo Daa" As a town that suffered through war then raiders for so many years, Morgan's Ford has developed a system of horn calls to alert citizens to pressing matters. The call lingering in your ears is the call of Assembly, summoning the citizens to the market square.
Your words build confidence and unity in the hearts of the Fordians, and a great cheer goes up. As if on cue, for notes of a horn echo across the landscape, summoning those willing to take up arms to gather at the Market Square. Heading toward the Lighthouse, you see Loathren heading your way with a large bundle slung over his shoulder. "Illandros has called upon you on this day. Take these things which I have bestowed upon you - take up the mantle of the shepherd that leads from the front. Now, to the market."
With the peel of the horn, people look about the tavern excitedly. Aldred calls out mightily, "Ye best be settlin' up on ya tab if'n ye gonna be headin' down to the market. Dontcha think I'm gonna be fergettin' or anythin'." With a smile, he accepts the coins dropped in his large palm as townsfolk scurry out of the Grumpkin and on toward the market. Even Dannan comes out of the kitchen and tosses his apron on the counter as he heads downtown to hear the news.
Beldan pauses to listen to the trumpet, then looks as Reynard. "Well laddy, get your ass down there and find out whats going on! Doubt they'd be blowing the horns for a simple merchant caravan."
Darry for the most part had ignored the earlier hub-bub instead finishing his ale. Still he rose at the sound of the horn leaving a couple of silver and some copper on the table.
"Well then I suppose we ought to see what thats all about then eh?"
He began sliding from his seat and heading to the bar fishing out coins.
"Put my luv Red's tab on mine my good man."
He finished flashing a grin and a wink at Alex and then the serving maid.
he put a gold coin on the counter and followed it with 6 silver. He turned and whistled a jaunty toon as he made his way out the door trying to appear not as excited as he was. Once he was out of the inn though he hurried torwards the horn more than a little anxious.
Of course, his luck was never that good, and the lingering dread still hung over his head like a raincloud on an otherwise sunny day.
Alex was finished and about to be about her day when the horn sounds. Standing up quickly from her seat she looks at Darry with one eyebrow raised, "Oh no you don't." she pays for her own breakfast before leaving quickly without a second look back heading towards the meeting area.
Alistar arrives back at the Market, overjoyed that the confidence he instilled in those gathered there earlier has not dwindled as the crowd swells.
Over the cleric's vestments that Alistar has worn everyday of his life, is an old, yet well cared for set of lamellar leathers and a crusader's longsword. Both finely crafted in the fashion of those worn during the Inheritors War. The sight of Alistar armored for battle is not something you would expect to see, and yet, striding forth into the Market crowd, he does not appear out of place.
Alistar gives a steadying hand to old Father Loethren as they make their way to the front of the gathering crowd.
My Lord, I feel the weight of this armor, and the gravity of what I must do to defend our home. But I am comforted in the knowledge that I walk the Path of Light. Guide my sword, Steady my resolve, And I shall give voice to your Glory and convey unto others your Grace.
Evan was just finishing when the horn sounded. Guess I don't need to head down to the ferry after all. He waits for most of the people to thin out before dropping some coin for both his food and Reynard's, then follows the throng to the market for the news.
Flushed with exhaustion and catching his breath, Reynard scrambles to the few weapons he had made. The sound of the new trumpet caused a stir in his heart as the dream of a merchant caravan vanished. More appropriately the dream was replaced with a reality of potential calamity that had overrun Morgan's Ford in the past.
The merchant caravans I suppose are a thing of dreams and aspirations for the town. I got my hopes up for nothing.
Oh. I was going to bring you some ale and food. But I left it at Grumpkin Two Brews. OH! I didn't pay either. But I didn't take the food with me so it's ok. Will Andred just feed it to the dogs? I should have apologized. I'm sorry Master.
Clearing his mind he grabs a set of lamellar leather armor and takes the time to adorn it properly as he had been taught. It smells of fresh oil, worked in meticulously, and has a minimal rubbing sound as the leather is adorned. As if trying to usher him out the door, Master Beldan assists Reynard with the fine tuning and a few of the straps making sure everything is well fitted.
You can do this. Assembly meeting. People. Keep your eyes up. You're representing the Master of Arms and Armor. But, maybe they're all going to stare at me... Of course they'll stare at me, I have the incomparable goods of a master smith adorned. People. Keep your eyes up. You can do this.
Thank you Master. I think I have what I need. I'm off with haste.
With that, Reynard once again swiftly heads for the Market. The sounds of the trumpet still ringing in memory...
I wonder what it could be.
A mixture of excitement and unease forms among the crowd gathering in the Market square. Rumors abound of a merchant caravan laden with gold, an army of orcs, a bandit king, a kidnapped prince, a lost treasure, and just about anything else the idle minds of an isolated population can conjure up. A few of the town guard are standing at the Old Oak, located at the center of the Market. They have spread the word that the Constable is coming and will speak shortly.
After several more minutes pass, Constable Reggard walks into the crowd and climbs the small stage at the Old Oak. Holding up his hands, the crowd quiets. "Good folk of Morgan's Ford, I thank you for putting aside your work and joining me today. Trouble brews on the eastern shore of the Stone River. This morn Votrick took the ferry across in response to the bell's call, but found none on the other side, save a wagon and its draft horses. No driver, no passenger, no merchant, no guards. A lone arrow was discovered lodged on the inside of the wagon, but no blood. It is a strange situation, one that needs to be investigated. Sadly, the town guard is too small that a detachment cannot be sent to do this properly. As such, I am calling for volunteers to form a band to set out for the eastern shore, determine the fate of the missing merchant and his possible company, and if they are still alive, bring them safely to Morgan's Ford. For the safety of Morgan's Ford and its citizens, and for the strength of our reputation as a trade town, this must be down. All those who would undertake such a quest, please meet me at the ferry house within the hour. Thank you."
Catching the Constable's speech just as he began, Reynard breathed deep exhausted breaths. Listening intently, he looked around those in crowd and their reactions. Soon enough he spots a few of the people he saw this morning in the Grumpkin.
Oh... this is really serious. I can't believe it. She was right, my birthday is going to mark a new beginning. Something is changing I can feel it - something... perhaps sinister.
The endless of thoughts blew through Reynard's mind like a whirlwind. The closing of the Constable's speech resounded newness, excitement, and anxiousness. The swirled potential of the unknown sparked a curiosity not felt since Reynard was 13.
Spotting Alex and Evan, Reynard makes his way through the hum of the slowly dispersing crowd which is talking of mystery,bandits, and treasure.
Hesitating, Reynard opens up slightly. Hey... so... what are you guys going to do? I mean... if there are Orcs. Do you think there are any survivors?
Rast stood to the back and waited for the speech to be over. He was impressed by just how quickly this a being organized but the prospect of wandering into the unknown with a bunch of people who he had never seen put up a fight did not tempt him. Still, he wanted an investigation and here was one being organized. Hefting his gear, he started heading for the ferry again. He potentially had a decent payoff coming from this and making sure no bandits were raiding the trade roads would only make his life better.
As soon as the speech was over Alex wen to find her father. He was back in the house explaining the situation to her mother. She entered and they turned to her quietly. "The Constable is organizing a search party to find the missing owner of the wagon."
He looked at her, "Best if we let the bigger and stronger types handle this one Alex. The bandits could still be out there."
"I am as capable as any of them. We need to get the merchant back here safely, It could be the only way to keep trade going this year. If word is out that it is unsafe to travel here it could be the end of this town. I'm going to help find them." She crossed her arms and her blue eyes looked set. Her parents said nothing more, simply staring at her not sure what to say. She left the room and went to collect her things. Strapping on the protective armour that she used when conducting her experiments and grabbing her kit, quarterstaff and throwing in her torch just in case, she felt prepared. They are probably just lost, the bandits had to be scared off if they left the wagon there and didn't steal anything. She left the house and headed for the ferry.
After hearing Reggard’s call to arms, Alistar steps forward from the crowd and addresses the constable.
”Constable Reggard, sir. Let me be the first, of what will undoubtedly be many, who step forward and volunteer for this quest.”
Then, turning to address the crowd as he slowly ascends the stairs of the small stage, his voice calls out:
”We, as citizens of the Sun, cannot abide the Wickedness of Darkness, whether it be Bandit, Orc or Otherwise. I convey upon this Mission the Blessing of the Radiant Dawn! Let us venture forth, in the Light, and deliver Rescue, Justice or Vengeance, as befits our discovery.”
With the Constable's final words discussion broke out among the crowd. Alistar's words caused a great cheer to go up from the crowd. Young men and women ran off to grab weapons and armor, while many townsfolk headed straight across the bridge to the ferry house. All wanted to see who would go on this dangerous mission to rescue the missing merchants.
Over the next hour, a small company formed of men and women eager to serve. They ranged in age from child to grandparent, and their armaments were likewise varied both in quality and capability. As the last couple came hurrying across the bridge, Constable Reggard came out of the ferry house. Rather than a proclamation from the front steps for the larger observing crowd to hear, he stepped down into your midst and spoke more evenly.
"I thank you all for volunteering. It warms my heart to know that we have so many devoted individuals willing to take up arms to protect others and our way of life. That said, we do not need you all, as a company this size would only slow itself down." Moving through the crowd, Reggard examined each individual up and down.
"Rik, Torn, Patrick, and Henry - I thank you all for your service during both the Inheritors' War and the ensuing chaos that followed, but your time is past. Tend to your families and leave this to younger folk." He patted each on the shoulder or shook their hands as they stepped back away from the crowd.
Turning toward a group of youngsters, "As for you lot, you are courageous as lions, but you need a few more winters before you take on such endeavors. Besides, what it that, a spear? No, that's a sharpened stick. And your heavy winter cloak won't ward off the arrows of the attackers. Go play war after you work in the fields, and in a few years we will talk." The boys and girls (only a few years younger than you) step back dejectedly and run off.
Looking about the remaining group, he asks, "Has anyone seen Caern recently?" One in the crowd behind calls back, "He left off into the northern wilds some three days ago, has not been back since."
Reggard scowled. "Blast it, our best scout and tracker is nowhere to be seen. Well, looks like its up to you six then. Rast, Darry, Alistar, Alex, Reynard, and Evan - I think you all know each other. This will not be an easy task, and danger will be met along the way. You each bring a unique gift to the table, work together wisely. Rast and Reynard, you are the might. Darry's knack for getting into and out of trouble will prove invaluable. Let Alistar's words bolster your spirits in dark hours. Trust in Alex's potions and Evan's spells to assist in strange, arcane ways. Believe in each other. Had I men to send with you, I would. I can give you these." He pauses, handing each of you a small corked iron vial. "A potion for each of you to heal your wounds, crafted by Alex's father. Is there anything else you would require?"
As the constable spoke, Rast was busy shrugging on his leather lamellar and tightening the straps on it to make sure it would not slip or slide about in the midst of combat. Then came the throwing axes, which fit together neatly in a full length sheath at the small of his back. The ugly looking axe, which spent most of its time discouraging any lapses of conduct on the ferry, hung through an iron ring on his waist next to a couple of unmarked flasks. The final touch, his shield, was an impressive oak construction with more than a few dings and dents in the front of it.
The six foot, fiery-haired ferryman looked almost as much like a bandit as anyone they might meet on the other side of the river. Whether or not this was a good thing had yet to be seen.
"I ain't been much farther than the landing over there, any landmarks or good hiding spots in the area? What the distance to the next township?"
Shock washed across Reynard's face as he had been one of the handful that was singled out by the Constable. Listening intently on the words of Reggard, Reynard felt a twinge of non-belief.
The Constable, wants... me?! But, I'm just a nobody... I work with Master Beldan most days... I... I don't talk to many people and I'm nearly not as adept with the arcane as Evan - even though I prod him a bit. Everyone likes Alistar, Alex knows her fathers trade, Rast is Rast - as much of a reputation as his brother. But Darry and I aren't much. I guess he can talk his way out of a burlap sack, but not me. I... hmmm.
Trying to rationalize the Constable's seemingly hasty decision about Reynard, he concurred with the veteran's acumen.
I haven't thought about it much. I suppose I could be strong considering I work hammering metal most days. I don't sit around like dad working on jewelry in a desk chair and atrophy. And if anything gets dinged up I can do some repairs on the weapons. I have learned some things Evan has taught me or at least has shown the mechanics for... Yes, I think he's right. My experience is vastly limited, but yet that is another reason to send me forth into unforeseen circumstance, empirical providence.
Reaching out, Reynard accepts the potion in hand with a stiff nod and stores it in his pouch.
Remembering the aftermath and crowds of the Marketplace, Reynard delved back into memory. Unable to convey his understanding of the Constable's decision, he turns again to resume what he thought was a conversation he had to Evan and Alex.
What are you guys going... to... Reynard watched as Alex stalked away completely uninterested in his words. Evan too was focused on his studies and oblivious to the outside world. Reynard looked up and found Rast preoccupied pushing terse yet pertinent questions toward the Constable and Alistar discussing the the Blessings of the Radiant to the throng of followers that surrounded him.
Reynard collected himself and wilted slightly. Speaking to his peers and the Constable, Reynard postured himself and tried to lilt.
I'll, ah, meet you at the ferry.
And with that, he left. Reynard headed back for the blacksmith shop to pick up his tools and notify his Master of his new mission. The gruff smith patted him on the back and said something to the affect of "a boy becoming a man."
Reynard took to his home to pack for a journey he knew would come around his 17th birthday. The omens aplenty and his ominous discussion with the "Witch of the Wood" gave him reason enough to trust that he may yet see the world beyond Morgan's Ford. He packed various pragmatic things into his backpack and tried to strap his goods down tightly, though he knew he wasn't the best at knowing what was needed to survive the wilds.
The short discussion with his father left him want for more. It seemed that his father was just as uninterested in his new found duty as Alex or Evan were in their pseudo-conversation prior.
As door shut softly into the fog filled afternoon, Reynard marched to the ferry around the appointed time. All his equipment in tow, he couldn't help but reflect on his father's demeanor.
Maybe he was just too busy. Although his hands stopped working when I told him, he didn't even turn to look toward me. I don't know. I could never understand what he thinks really. But for once, I swear it sounded... forced.
Now, as he stands before his new companions, Reynard feels quietly refreshed. The uncertainty of a new beginning can have its advantages.
As the constable's words finished Evan's mind started working in overdrive. He barely acknowledged Reynard as he approached, deep in thought and starting slowly toward home.
This sounds like it could be interesting, a chance to witness history in the making. Of course I can be useful too...
Evan's pace quickened and he walked the rest of the way home briskly. He gathered his spellbook, pouches and pulled on his sturdy jacket then headed down to the ferry.
He listened intently again to the constable and the dock. Satisfied he'd be going across he waits for the next move. Once Rast speaks, he starts to wrack his memory for what he's read of the other side.
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