"I know little of such things, except that they must be very wealthy now."
"Ah. I think we saw your friend's wagon. Damn' brigands attacked us quite close to it; they must've hoped to catch more traffic into the valley, to repeat their rich haul," Everard rumbles.
"Your story is indeed a sad one, master Shameen. It's a sad thing to lose your home."
For a brief moment, the big man glares, his eyes staring into the middle distance as he relives bad memories. But then he shakes himself, clapping his gauntleted hands together.
"Ahh, bless me. Enough of sorrow for one day. I'll gladly pay for room and board - and bath! How soon do you think you could have one ready for us, please? Um, one for each of us, of course."
Shameen suggests you eat your meal while he goes to prepare your baths. As you sit at the table, he stands, claps his hands, and shortly the door to the kitchens opens, and a tall, lithe, willowy katta woman makes her way to your table.
"Greetings, travelers. I am Shema. Today I have prepared a lamb stew, spiced with desert aromas and other fine Shapeiran flavours. It will be my pleasure to bring you each a helping, as well as bread and coffee."
"And it will be our pleasure to partake of such fine tasting fare."
"Greetings, Madame Shema," Everard says, briefly rising from his chair in a show of respect. "Yes, that sounds absolutely wonderful!"
Shema bows low to each of you and returns to the kitchens. Within minutes, you are enjoying hearty bowls of exotic lamb stew, fresh flat bread, and smooth, bold coffee.
When your meal is done, Shameen shows you to the bath room, where you find four copper tubs, two of which are filled with steamy water, along with the usual accoutrements. The hot water feels great on your sore muscles.
It is early afternoon when you step back out into the (mostly) empty streets of Spielburg.
As you take a look around, you both notice things that are odd, for a village this size: it's quiet. You don't hear the sounds you would expect, no animal sounds, no clang of a smithy, no parents calling out rambunctious youths. No shop windows advertise any specials, and many are closed. The barber's shop next to the jail bears a weathered sign, the handwriting which reads, "Out to Lunch" so faded, you can barely make it out.
Where to? The directions from the sheriff suggest that the adventurer's guild hall is in the southwest corner of town.
Feeling refreshed from the bath and having taken care of his wounds, Felix is ready to look around the village. "Should we start with the general store then make our way to turn in the spear for the bounty on the bandits."
"No rush," Everard says, shrugging. "With that avalanche, we'll be around for a while yet."
The fighter winks.
"Let's show this spear off around town a bit, see if we can get a discount. Besides, this place .... it leaves me curious. It's so quiet. Why don't we find out what's what?"
So towards F or G?
You head north along the street. An abandoned stables sits opposite the shuttered barbershop. Past the barber's, you see the town well, where a tough, seedy-looking man leans arrogantly, casually tossing a gleaming dagger into the air and catching it.
The smell of apples draws your nose to the market stand in the northeast corner of town. Behind the market stand, you see a charming young centaur lass with the upper body of a teenager, and the lower body of a filly.
"Good afternoon," she calls out to you as you approach the area. "Would you care to buy some apples, or perhaps some delicious carrots?"
"Well, hello to you!" Everard says, a smile of Delight on his face. "Oh, pardon me, I don't mean to be rude -- but you are the first Centaur I have had the privilege of meeting."
The warrior holds out a hand to shake that of the stall-keeper.
"Everard Katzenjammer," he introduces himself. "And this is my good friend and companion, Felix Mairail. With whom do we have the pleasure?"
As the duo goes past the well, Felix finger waggles his nose at the seedy looking fellow.
Felix nods his welcome to the centaur. "Greetings, sir."
"Sir?" the centaur lass replies, "I am not a boy, Mr. Mairail. My name is Hilde Pfeferdern, Mr. Katzenjammer. This market stand belongs to my father Heinrich, where I sell produce he grows on our farm to the north of town. There is not much available these days, but I do have carrots, parsnips, turnips, potatoes, and apples left over from last year's harvest. Hopefully, we'll have some strawberries, radishes, and lettuce soon, if they grow this year."
Felix winces. "I'm going to be very quiet now."
"Two apples, please," Everard says, smiling at Hilde. "One for me, and one to help Felix be quiet."
The Fighter winks, to show he is joking.
"We're newcomers to the valley and to town, Ms. Hilde. As a native, would you share with us anything you think would be good to know about Spielburg town, Spielburg valley and those who live within it? We've already been attacked by Brigands, you see. Even had a Minotaur with them! I'd rather be forewarned about whatever else is outside the town walls."
"This is a lovely valley, and a nice town. I was born here, and wouldn't want to live any place else, but it is not like it used to be, even five years ago. Brigands are a big problem; a few months ago, they attacked my father for his cart of produce. They broke one of his legs and nearly killed him."
"In the old days, my father would take me out into the forest. We would go to Mirror Lake for picnics and explore the forest, searching for the White Stag or the Fairie Ring. But now days there are too many monsters. Father does not permit me to leave the safety of the town walls. In town is safe. No brigands would dare mess with the sheriff. He told me so!"
"My goodness!" Everard exclaims. "How did your father survive that, if I may ask?
And you mention such evocative names. A White Stag? A Fairie Ring? Mirror Lake? Please, do tell us more, Ms. Hilde!"
"Well, for some reason, the brigands' leader made them stop hurting Father, and took him to the Healer's. You should visit our farm and ask him more about it if you want to know details. Father didn't want to worry me."
"As for the other things, you probably saw Mirror Lake-or Spieglesee-when you came over the pass. It's an icy cold lake fed by the snowmelt that comes down the Flying Falls along the south side of the valley."
"I've never seen it myself, but Father says that somewhere in the forest lives the great White Stag. The baron's son was hunting the White Stag when he disappeared five years ago. Please don't try to hunt the White Stag. He is supposed to be so beautiful and gentle...and, it just wouldn't be nice to hurt him."
"As for the Fairie Ring...Father has never seen it, but the Healer often talks about it, and the magic mushrooms you can find there that she uses in some of her stronger potions. Legends say that at night, the fairies come out and dance around the ring. They say the fairy magic makes the trees grow stronger and greener nearby."
The apples are a copper each, quite exorbitant for such shrivelled little fruit, but her price is firm.
"It will be my pleasure to meet your Father soon. But fret not, dear lady; I have lost no White Stag, and thus have no intention of hunting one," Everard says, smiling. "But tell me.... The Sheriff mentioned the Baron's son being .... lost, but he would not go into detail. Can you tell us more?"
Hilde pauses, nibbling at her lip. "Forgive me, good sir. I cannot tell you much. Father says it is wrong to speak ill of other people, and otherwise, I would have nothing left to tell."
Everard laughs merrily.
"I meant about his disappearance, dear Miss Hilde! But very well, very well. Can you tell us about town? Why is it so .... quiet? No children, no dogs, no idlers, nothing."
Felix perks up a bit at Everard's question. He too was wondering about that particular peculiarity.
"Father says that twenty years ago, the streets were filled with miners, but they aren't around anymore. When all the orchards produced, Mr. Amblin and the others produced Spielburg's famous cider, but there aren't enough apples anymore, so the cider makers left town. There used to be families and children, but they left when the work left."
"How sad," Everard says. "No help for mines drying up, but have you any idea what stopped the apple trees from flowering?"
Hilde shakes her head. "I don't know. Only our orchard continues to bear fruit, and only our fields produce crops. The other farmers all left. It is a blessing in some ways, that so many have left town. My father is a fine farmer, but he could not produce food for all who once called Spielburg home."
"A sad one, however," Everard says, shaking his head. "Ah, well. I hope we shall have an opportunity to talk again, later. And please give my compliments to your good father, Ms. Hilde!
For now, might you direct us to the general store?"
Hilde giggles. She points to the building right next to you, with the sign "Kaspar's Dry Goods".
"Before you go, a warning Father always wants me to give newcomers...don't drink the Dragon's Breath."
She smiles warmly for Everard as you leave. Felix gets a sulky scowl.
The dry goods store is dimly lit, or perhaps it's just the pot-bellies stove giving off more smoke than is strictly necessary. The shop smells more like a dusty library than a dry goods store. Behind the long counter sits a balding man wearing thick glasses and reading a book. He doesn't appear to have noticed you.
On the shelves behind him, you see the usual goods important to any good housewife, or adventurer. (Any core rule book mundane equipment costing up to 50 gp can be found here, except holy water, holy symbols, alchemical stuff, or thieves' tools. Other mundane equipment may be available, if it's not too "out there".)
Hanging on the wall, you see a beautiful longsword, as well as a matching shortsword. A suit of breastplate armour rests on a mannequin.
"Beautiful," Everard breathes as he subjects the two swords and the breastplate to an intense scrutiny. "Felix, just look at the quality of this workmanship! These must cost a fortune."
The shopkeeper puts down his book and looks up. "Oh, hello. Welcome! I'm sorry I didn't see you come in. I'm Kaspar, and this is my shop...obviously. Say, are you adevturers? You look like adventurers."
Felix offers shallow nod of his head and a weak smile to Hilde as he leaves with Everard.
"She will never forgive me."
At the store. "We only want to be helpful."
"Buy some parsnips and apologize," Everard suggests to Felix. "Repeatedly."
To Kaspar, he nods, smiling.
"Hopefuls, anyway. Sorry to be so direct, but I could not help but notice those beautiful swords and the breastplate....?"
"They are magnificent, are they not? They had been ordered from Hisperia by the Baronet, but he disappeared before they arrived. Perhaps if he had had them, he would not have been lost as he was. The Baron didn't want them, so I have had them up for sale ever wince. Not that anybody local would want such things, but I had figured that one day, some adventurers would come, or else I would finally be able to leave the shop behind and begin my own adventuring career. I plan to be an adventure myself, you know. I've read every book I can on the subject, like this one here."
"Yeah? I followed the Famous Adventurer's Correspondence Course, myself," Everard says, peeking at the title of Kaspar's book. "Might I see these books of yours sometime?"
Kaspar's book is called: Quest for Glory: A Hero's Death.
"Maybe we could make a trade: I loan you a book, you give me an adventuring lesson!"
"I'd be delighted to teach you a couple of combat drills!" Everard says, smiling. "We'll start tomorrow morning. I'll meet you here after breakfast. Have two quarterstaves ready -- padded quarterstaves -- and wear some armour."
"Oh, well...I think I have some inventory to...inventory. Maybe another time."
"Don't be afraid, Kaspar," Everard says. "I won't hurt you, maybe bruise you a bit at worst. And once you have a couple of combat drills down, you're better equipped to go out into the world and seek the adventure you want -- equipped to stop enemies from hurting you."
"Oh well, maybe, I suppose, but..."
Kaspar's equivocating is interrupted as the door to the street opens, admitting Sheriff Meistersson .
"Hilde said you'd gone in here. Since you are hoping to become the Heroes of Spielburg, I figure you want to know as much about our troubles as you can. When the merchant' caravan was attacked last week, there was another young adventurer travelling with it. She was hurt quite badly by the brigands, and has been recuperating in the inn. Shameen tells me she has just woken up. The healer is with her now, but if you want to talk to her, you should head to the inn."
Zayla comes to her senses, and the events of the ambush come flooding back. As soon as the brigands appeared, sweet Abdullah the caravan master hustled her into a wagon, covering her with a canvas. Her last memory involved being thrown into the snow, as the horse was startled by a bright flash and loud bang. Pain, as her head hit a rock, and then nothing.
So the soft mattress, soothing spices, and warm fire are a welcome change. As she stirs, a beautiful Katta woman, bent over to fluff her pillows, smiles warmly, saying, "It gives me great pleasure to see you awake. Shameen! She's awake!" she calls out.
Zayla sits up and looks hurriedly around at her surroundings. "Where am I?" she blurts. "What happened? Where's Abdullah and the rest of the caravan? Are they okay? They weren't hurt, were they?"
"You are in the Hero's Tale Inn in Spielburg. Abdullah is fine, as are his guards. The brigands stole all the goods and treasure, but we were more worried about you, that you were not going to awaken soon. If you give me a minute, I will bring you some soup and some tea."
Zayla sighs with relief. "Oh, thank goodness. Yes, some soup and tea would be nice."
She sits in the bed and waits for the food and drink.
A few minutes later, a greying, plump woman with a pleasant, matronly smile, enters after a quick knock.
"Zayla, dearest, how are you feeling? You won't remember me, my name is Amelia Appleberry, the town Healer. We've had quite a few visits over the past week, you and I, but it's a pleasure to actually make your acquaintance."
The Healer begins fussing over bandages and feeling Zayla's forehead.
"I suppose it would be smart to at least talk to her. And there's a chance that she could be a damsel in distress." Felix nods to the shop owner. "We'll see you in the morning, sir. Have those books and padded sticks ready." Felix goes back to the inn.
Everard gives Kaspar a companionable pat on the shoulder, and follows after Felix.
"I hope she'll be out of distress, now she's awake," he notes to Felix. "But let's go make her acquaintance, indeed. If we're going to be mixing it up with those Brigands more from here on out, we can use all the information we can get!"