" And where do we find Aerdy Conrad then?"
"That spellcaster lives in the Ulfensson home in the middle of Highfrost. You are summoned to see the Jarl this evening and if I am to vouch for you I will need to know what you're intentions are in these lands of the Jarl may through you out at least. If Ragmas is who you speak of then I am sure Conrad" and Jarl Borg spits on the ground again "knows something of it and it would be wise to speak to the man. Dont go barging over to the house before then though. Wait til tonight"
It appears Jarl Borg dislikes Aerdy Conrad, most likely from the superstitious upbringing of northern barbarians vs magic and the fact the wizard is from the Great Kingdom
Diplomacy
Magic, Jarl Borg is not all bad. In fact, it was my magic and my use of it which helped to turn the tide of the battle where you were being overwhelmed.
"As you wish... " She will relate what she senses from the man when the party is alone:
"I don't think Aerdy Conrad is well liked by the Jarl... probably because he uses magic and comes from the Great Kingdom."
"I am sure you right Lady Tanariel but some things are hard to accept for us northerners. Twas Baklunish magik that made our tribes flee through the tunnels from the west eons ago, and twas evil magik that forced us barbarian tribes to become divided. Those memories pass down from generation to generation and still linger today. Although I hear the Fruztii young wolf has desires to start some magik college in Krakenheim whenever he takes the throne. You may look for employment there some day. Now if you will excuse me I need to speak to the other leaders to discuss the next weeks patrols. Old Garram and I are concerned that some of the tribes here keep getting the plum patrols while others get the shaft ones." and Jarl Borg excuses himself and leaves the dwelling.
The Frutzii young wolf, or wolf pup, Jarl Borg refers to is Hundgred Rälffson, the King in waiting, son of King Ralff the Grey Bear. Rumors abound of the younger Hundgred accepting certain aspects of magic and learning after being fostered in Ratik as a youth. His father is not so inclined nor are the many Jarls.
"that is the operative statement, eh? 'Evil magic' as opposed,to just 'magic'."
So then I suppose we are guests here until tonight's introduction?
The group is guided out of Jarl Borgs residence and have some 6 hours to kill before dinner with the leader of Highfrost later tonight.
"Let's go see some more of this town." suggests Antonio.
The wizard, not wanting to make a scene will wait in the bard and study her spells.
"I'll join you, Antonio... let's see this place."
"The Claw Gully Tavern sounds interesting," says Antonio, "but I'll drink anywhere. Where to, sister?"
He frowned at the large armored fellow but shrugged. He wasnt entirely sure that going to a barbarian tavern of bad reputation would be wise, but he also didnt have a large amount of coin to spend frivously.
"Either will work, as long as we dont look for trouble. Wouldnt do to be brought before the Jarl in chains."
He said lowly hoping the armored man took the hint.
"Well the other place, what was it, the mountain hearth? Sounds more pleasant. But I'm guessing that's not what you're after, is it? I'm going where you go. Let's try it, we can always leave if it's too rough a place."
We might save time by avoiding a place that is solely known to have a bad reputation for no specific reason. Violence and crime may be the least of your worries if the food there is toxic. I'll prefer to wait at the Mountain Hearth. We can meet back here just before our audience with the Jarl. Anchard says stifling a yawn before heading out to the Hearth. Along the way he takes particular attention to looking at their religious buildings to get a feel for the dominant faith.
Antonio goes with Kithariel to The Claw Gully Tavern. Cerian will either come with us, or go with Anchard to the Mountain Hearth Inn.
The Claw Gully Tavern is a large H shaped building where one side is the kitchen and living space and the rest is the bar. You notice it is in-between the Bearclaw and Bloody Fists areas of town and is considered neutral ground. Upon entering you see two Highfrost guards sitting at the door, most likely there for security purposes. The tavern itself is fairly populated with Fists, Bears, Dragons and what appear to be other non-aligned local folk all congregated in their own personal fiefdoms. The wear and tear of barroom brawls show on the furniture and walls of the establishment. Almost everyone looks at you when you enter, you are the new folks in town, and they watch you sit at a vacant table. A serving girl fends off unwanted advances and moves to your table to take your order.
The Mountains Hearth Inn is a well maintained building in the Ratik section of Highfrost. As you step upon the porch there are a few good folk sitting on chairs smoking from pipes or drinking from glass cups and talking about many topics (mostly religion and politics). They greet you with a nod of their head and as you enter a grey bearded dwarf greets you introducing himself as Klagin Stoutheart, proprietor of the Inn. He says this proudly and finds you a clean table. A dwarven lass, obviously his daughter from the looks, comes up to take your order and leaves some bread and fruit. Looking around you see other patrons in the bar area most of them professionals or craftsmen. Only a few northern barbarians are in the Inn, and they look to be more civilized than their brethren.
Antonio sets some gold on the table and says, "Hello, darling. My name's Antonio. I'll have a mug of mead for myself, and one for every warrior in the hall. Who's thirsty?"
Watching the armored man head into probably trouble the wood elf merely shook his head and followed along with Anchard to the nicer establishment.
As the dwarven barmaid came to leave their orders and the bread and fruit he stopped her with an additional coin.
"May name is Cerian Screamingtrees, of the Phostwood. We are obviously travelers in the area, whats the news about town if i may ask. The looks the locals outside of this place have given us has kept me from asking."
Kithariel stays silent and decline the offered drink. "Thank you for the offer Antonio, but I think I'll keep a clear head here." She looks around wide-eyed at the folk in the main room.
A cheer erupts from the gathered crowd at Antonio's generosity. The serving girl winks at Antonio and moves back tot he bar as the barkeep begins lining tankards of mead for her to distribute. Men walk by and slap Antonio on the shoulder as they move up tot the bar. Two come over and the smaller one says "So you all must be the newcomers." The tall one asks Kithariel "Are you an elf?" They seem non threatening, just curious.
"Dontbe angry pointy ears.... they just humans... and they all treat us differently. Some of these tribes never seen a friendly dwarf or elf or gnome and think all kinds of weird things of us. One rumor started about my pa's mead and how it stunts yur growth if you drink too much of it... not true of course... but folks believed it until Elrik Ulfensson started drinking here some 50 years ago. Now them northerners know the mead is more xpensive and drink elsewhere. Pa does that to keep the clientele decent."
"Yes, yes I am... have you not met one of my kind before? I'd be happy to answer your questions if you have any."
"We are newcomers," says Antonio. "From the warm lands to the south. Do you have any interesting tales to tell? What has been happening here?"
With a heavy sigh, Anchard finds a spot to enjoy the peacefulness of decent clientele and is happy to nibble at more food despite the meal he had so recently and the idle company of Cerian. Suppose we should put together a plan of recourse should the Jarl prove to be less than supportive of our wayward group. We may have need of mounts for travel and maybe a hand or two to steer and man the provisions. I don't know how trustworthy a couple of our new companions are, but thankfully it is only a couple.
The serving girl comes back to your table with a round of mead for everyone including the two men standing next to you. She even brought one for Kithariel. "1 gold piece is the cost. It better be good gold too, not some fake 'Fister' gold." she says to Antonio.
The tall man looks over Kithariel and asks "are you man or woman elf?"
The shorter one asks her "Are you one of them snow elves that used to live in these parts way back, ages ago? They had white hair and white skin as you."
"Are ya ordering drinks? We gots mead, honey wine, maple mead, black mead, elder mead, and white mead. As for Ales we gots bitter, brown, golden, mild and apple. If ya want any of the fancy imported spirits I can list those off too." the dwarven girl asks Cerian and Anchard.
A few folks come in and greet the dwarven girl and a few leave also saying goodbye. You discover her name is Winri.
"My money's good, sister. And here's a little something for your trouble."
Antonio gives the serving girl one gold piece, plus a two silver piece gratuity, then slaps her on her backside. He drinks some mead while Kithariel speaks with the strangers. He is half interested, so he listens to them talk.
Kit smiles at the queries, but doesn't laugh, as they are good questions. "I am woman elf, and no, I'm not a snow elf... My people have always dwelt in warmer lands. My hair is unusual in color among my folk. Most have yellowish hair, though brown and red are common too." She twirls a lock of hair and pulls it to the front so even she can see it while she answers. "Perhaps one of these 'snow elves' you speak of was an ancestor in the distant past."
"Would you tell me about your different clans? if you don't mind me asking, that is."
"A glass of the honey wine if you would please Miss Winri, though ive never had it, it sounds refreshing."
He ordered from the dwarven lass waiting till she left to respond to Anchard.
"The armored one seems far too eager, but we've traveled with those with a lust for battle before. The other elf i feel is trustworthy... the archer not the mage. I am sure miss Tanariel will be able to handle.... no wait These folk seem distrustful of magic they may not listen to a word she says.
He began with a frown. He had never been that comfortable with magic, but these barbarians made him look accepting. He drummed his fingers along the table for just a moment.
"Beast of burden, with supplies we could get easily enough, depending on how rugged the trail to our objective mounts may or may not be helpful. Im sure our coin would be acceptible to some of the folk here even if the Jarl disaproves of us."
The large one asks another question out of curiosity more than anything else. "They say elves can switch between being a man and a girl when they want. Is that true? Can you do that?" The smaller one smirks a little as the taller one tries to understand it all
The smaller one then speaks up and says "We are part of the mighty Bearclaw Clan. We are huskarls for Karl Oskar, greatest fighter in these parts." he says the last part louder and a cheer erupts from some of the nearby men (obviously Bearclaws as well), while chuckles can be heard from a group of barbarians off to the side. "Never mind the Fisters." the smaller man says regarding the chucklers. "So who is the Lord for you two?"
You can hear light laughter whenever the tall slow one asks a question and receives a reply. It is almost as if someone is playing a prank on him but he does not know it.
Talking to some of the locals (Keldrin- Baker) you gather that all of the armed bands are in competition with each other for prestige and spoils of war. The locals do not believe any of the mercenary bands care for Ratik or for the locals and if the money runs out then the mercenaries would leave.
Speaking to Wurren the Cordwainer you discover that while the Iron Boars do a lot of patrols, they also have the worst luck on their patrols. Too many ambushes and too many deaths of the Iron Boar warriors. The Bloody Fists have better luck. They sometimes scare off raiding parties after a caravan is attacked bringing back the trade-goods after the merchants fall in battle during the raid. The town still gets the supplies, oftentimes at a lower price since the Fisters sell the goods to the town merchants at a discount. Fisters dont let anyone go on their raids with them though.
"Our leader is no lord. She is a lady, and her name is Tanariel. She is another elf. Is your lord a good man? Does he treat you well?"
Kit smiles at the question, does her best not to laugh aloud at the ridiculous nature of it, as she doesn't want to make fun of any of these clansmen. "I've not heard of any elves that can do that. It is true that we are not particular about the gender of our partners... when you live as long as we do, any activity, no matter how pleasant, can become quite tiresome after a while. Perhaps that is where such a notion might come from." She smiles at the fellow, but without mocking, coyness or flirtatious affectation...
"The Bearclaw Clan? sounds quite fierce. I don't mean to offend, but might I ask... What exactly is a huskarl?"
"Whats a huskarl....! How can you not know what a huskarl is?
We are household troops in the personal service of a Lord. We fight, we drink, we sleep, we fight again. And if we die and Kord sees our bravery in battle then he may scoop us up at the moment of our death and bring us to his Happy Hunting Grounds for all eternity. You elves have no huskarls?" the smaller one says flabbergasted at Kithariels question.
The taller one is still trying to come to grips with what she said earlier, but struggling. "Your Lord is an elf woman, but she is a lord, but a woman when Lords are usually men. Can she change into a man? Is she different than you?" the tall one asks.
As you are talking to the two Bearclaws a group of 5 armed and rough looking men walk in bearing a dragon scale clasp on their cloaks. They usher away a few patrons from a large table and loudly order for drinks to be brought quickly.
The smaller one spits on the ground and mutters "Blasted Dragonfangs... in this area."
"I guess the closest word in elvish for a huskarl would be ohtar... Your lives sound very valorous! I don't know that Tanariel is our Lord... she is a fine Lady elf who leads our small group I guess... though she is not with us tonight..." She lowers her voice so as not to be overheard by the newcomers. "You don't seem to like these Dragonfangs much. What have they done to incur your dislike?"
After mulling about with the patrons of the Mountain hearth inn, the elven ranger would once more find his companion, Anchard and share what he learned.
" I dont know whether to be content or worried about the sitution of this township my friend. Perhaps our travels might allow us to take a few of their raiding monsters out eh?"
He began on his second honeywine
If we are forced into a situation where we must, then I will take solace knowing I am making the world a safer place. Be careful though, many simple looking problems that persist through time in settled areas are often more complex and sinister than they may seem. Anchard replies scanning the occupants of the room.
"Missy the thillonrian tribes mostly kept to themselves including in this place. After a bad brawl between some of the groups the Jarl made certain nights here for certain groups. Tonight aint one of the nights for the Dragonfangs..... Imma gonna go tell the others about this... Kark lets go!" the smaller one says to Kithariels query then drags the taller one by the arm just as he was about to ask another question and they leave your presence to go speak to their Breaclaw companions.
The serving girl comes back to see if you need a refill.
Cerian and Anchard continue discussing team business when they notice a poor and rough looking Ratik man enter the establishment. The man scans the room and then sees you two and stops looking around. You feel he wants to approach you all but does not for some reason.
He frowned and nodded torwards the man,
"We have a visitor it seems my friend, shall we invite him over? Or should one of us perhaps go see what he wishes?"
He asked the cleric trying not to look at the man too hard.
Wave him over if you wish, I'll spare time for anything while we are forced to wait for the Jarl. Here would be preferable to a hand full of other places
"They'll be back," says Antonio just loud enough for the she-elf to hear. "With friends. Then there'll be trouble. How do you want to play this? We can order another round of drinks, run and tell the great jarl, or pick a side and join in the fight. If we pick sides, I'm partial to the Bearclaws."
"I'd just as soon stay out of it, to be honest... either leave or hide in a corner til it's over, but if we MUST get involved, I'm with you regarding this business of picking a side."
The nervous man that stands out like a sore thumb in this establishment sees you beckon him to come over and he nods. He stands at the edge of the table and keeps his head facing down. "Begging your pardon good sirs. My names Gervin, the town wheelwright. Folks say you are the new goddi for the Iron Boars. I have need of a priest for my wife. Toomas, the regular priest for our folk, done died when Grimkel of the Fists cut him up in a duel all legal like. We been without one for a while and Skegg of the Dragons wont help us folks none. I need a healer for my wife. I come to see you to see if you can help us. I'll give you all the gold i have." he says to Anchard.
The two Bearclaws that spoke to Antonio and Kitharial go to one side of the tavern and speak to their companions who in turn look over at the Dragonfang group. The 7 Bearclaws rise up together and grab clubs and axe handles from their waists. They move towards the 5 Dragonfangs who are drinking at the table. An aura of bad intentions lingers in the air.
The look of flippant annoyance is clear on Anchard's face as he looks at Gervin. Surely you'll come to understand the irony of your inquiry. You heard that I specifically might be able to heal your wife. I am a Jeromian Seraph. Jeromy, the goddess of quarrels and disputes. He raises his arms from the table with palms up and fingers tensed. My arms are charred to ashen cinders. Who told you I was a healer when I carry scars like these?
How much is 'all your gold anyway' and why do you think that whatever pittance you have offered is the currency this Seraph wants? You seek the power of the divine to heal your wife, but then toss gold at the faithful like I am a mercenary.
After giving the man a chance to respond, Anchard relaxes and leans back with a sigh, What is wrong with your wife? Is it disease? Poison? Broken bones? Anchard's eyes scanned the man's hands reactively after his last question looking for signs that Gervin might have been recently in a one sided fight.
The man looks down at the floor again and his shoulders sink down... common signs of a peasant worker being scolded. He stammers out "Folks just say cause you wear signs of a god you must be a priest, if not then you would have put the signs under your clothes like regular folk. All I have is in here." and he places a money pouch on the table.
"Work been slow with the raids stopping merchants from traveling. All I have is there. Beggin your pardon Sir but I never seen you before so I would not know of your arms, sorry, it looks painful. If you can't help then I won't trouble you anymore and I will git back to my wife and hope the baby dont breach." he says in a resigned voice.
I won't call you lucky, as I only have a basic understanding of human anatomy, but it is better than leaving your wife to chance. I will need to pick up proper tools before we head to help your wife. You can tell me her name along the way.