Magnus allows his eyes to glaze over as he looks to the billowing smoke. If everything checks out, Magnus will nod in satisfaction to his comrades. "Krawg, you have done good work today, and we shall repay you by sparing your life, but take this message back to your people: My group shall not be attacked again. If we are, I will find you, and I will hold you personally responsible. Now, be gone!" With that, Magnus turns his back to the Giant and waits for him to return the other direction, before finally returning to his usual demeanor. He turns to his comrades. "Well? Am I amazing, or am I amazing?" He grins.
Krawg narrows his eyes at Magnus, and you can hear his teeth grind, but he says nothing, merely giving a terse nod and cautiously circling around the party to head back the way he came.
Auric watches the ogre leave, wary for any reprisals.
"Good job. Let's see if we can get inside."
The group continues on, cresting the hill and viewing the settlement below. (See the send senses spoiler for the description.)
"Well, let's get to it and hope there's some means to communicate."
Auric starts leading the cart down to the closest bridge.
As Stilgar marvels at the size of the ship, a thought occurs to him.
"Perhaps this is our means of getting to Fardusk," he says as he stows the map again, before nodding at Auric's words. "This is unfamiliar ground, but we will need to make friends."
"Fardusk?" Magnus queries. "I had forgotten about that place. You're right though, a ship like that could sail anywhere, I'm sure."
The group heads downhill, reaching a road of packed, rutted earth that leads to the edge of the water, where one of the floating bridges starts. The breeze shifts slightly, and a distinct odor of fish wafts from the town ahead.
A small stone structure sits near the bridge, and as the party approaches a pair of figures emerge from an open door. A man and a woman, both human, hold spears and wear leather coats sewn with iron rings. They stand, alert but easy, awaiting the group's arrival at the bridge.
Auric holds up a friendly hand as the group approaches.
"Hello there!", he calls out. If he isn't understood, he'll switch to Elven and Dwarven.
The man gives a gap-toothed smile in response, then turns to the woman and mutters something quietly that you don't make out from this distance. Whatever he says causes the two to laugh. Then he spits off the roadside, leaning on his spear and waiting for the group and their cart to reach the gate house.
"'Ere den, oo're ye en watter ye aboot den?" he asks when the party reaches the pair of guards.
Stilgar glances at Auric and Magnus, before looking back to the guard who spoke. He bows his head to him slightly before speaking.
"My name is Stilgar Fulgrum, and these are my compatriots. We come from the Marches to trade goods and find passage across the water," he says, as amicably as he could manage. "This is the first real settlement we have come across during our travels here."
As the guards get a good look at Stilgar, their eyes widen and the woman's jaw actually drops open. She elbows the other guard.
"Ere, look at this un den! 'E ain't got the marks 'tall, dun he? No outcast, e's un a dem lil' masters, sure!"
The two guards share a look between them for a long second, then their stance shifts, becoming more soldierly, though not actively aggressive. The male guard pulls a horn from his belt and toots off a series of three short blasts, followed by one longer note.
The female guard, after glancing over the party, looks out over the hills, as if watching for more arrivals.
Auric shoots a concerned look to his companions.
"We're here by ourselves, no need to worry.", he says, his empty hands open in a non-threatening manner.
Diplomacy:
"Trust me, if he was one of them he wouldn't be here." Kalaya chimes in.
The two guards stand tensely watching the party for several minutes, while you can see activity in the towers along the town's palisade. Then the drawbridge lowers and a contingent of armed folk tromp out and across the water on the floating bridge. Perhaps thirty men and women, armed and armored as the two that stand before you, approach. In front of them are two mounted figures. The first is a man with dark hair and beard, mounted on a roan horse. The other is a dwarf, bearing the clear marks of an outcast of the Marches upon his face, mounted on a fat, shaggy pony.
The dwarf is oddly clean-shaven, which makes his face seem rounder. The tattoos on his face are angled around the eyes and across the forhead, faded by time. He speaks in Dwarven directly to Stilgar.
Stilgar shifts uncomfortably during the awkward silence, eyeing their watchers pensively. He makes certain to keep his hand far from his hammer, lest he give the wrong impression. His body tenses up slightly as the armed forces come out, but he quickly relaxes when he spoken to. He considers lying for only a moment before recalling their encounter at the fort.
The dwarf seems taken aback by Stilgar's response, and he sits there a moment, blinking, before turning to the bearded man and murmuring to him. They exchange words for a bit, then the dwarf turns back to Stilgar, frowning.
"Da har du ikke representerer presteskapet i denne saken? Eller en eller flere av kongene? Navnet du snakket betyr ingenting for oss. Hvis dette Varras har flyktet marsjene, hvorfor satse på ham?"
More hushed conversation follows between man and dwarf before the reply.
"Hvis det er slik, hva har det å gjøre med byen vår? Vi så stjernen høsten. Noen sier det er et dårlig tegn. Andre håper det knust herskerne av Marches. Vi vet ikke dette Wayland du snakker om, og heller ikke denne Varras, som jeg allerede har fortalt deg."
Magnus speaks to Stilgar. "We're not really looking for much more than a safe place to sleep at the moment. Let's secure that before we ask for help with our more lofty goals."
Auric clears his throat and speaks earnestly to the headman.
Dwarven:
The dwarf's face settles into a smile, eyes narrowing, as if something in Auric's plea has satisfied him. He leans over and murmurs to the bearded man once more, who responds merely with a nod. The dwarf turns back to the group, speaking this time in Common, his dialect one you are familiar with from the Marches.
"Good Klerval welcomes you to his town. You may make what accommodations you will and rest as you please. Be at peace."
With this proclamation, the group of militia parts so that the headman and his dwarven companion can turn and ride back to the drawbridge, then close ranks and follow thereafter. The two gate guards stand staring at the party for a moment, before the woman gestures with her spear towards the bridge.
"Wot yew waitin' fer, den? Off'n ye gew."
As the militia turns to march back into the town, Stilgar looks to Auric, more than a little impressed. On the way in he speaks to him, nodding in approval.
"That was well spoken, Auric. Perhaps I was too forthright this time. Neither deception nor negotiation appear to be my strong suits."
Auric cracks a smile as the group crosses the bridge into town.
"Glad to step in. I think it helped that I said something to that effect rather than you- it plays to the social narrative. A dwarf in good standing in the Marches wouldn't humble himself to a "barbarian" ruler- but a human retainer might be able to express such things on his behalf to save face. It's reassuring that they have at least some familiarity with our culture- they know us at least a little."
"I'm just glad you didn't get us burned at the stake or something similar." Kalaya mutters.
"Still plenty of time for that, we only just got here."
"You're right, Auric. I'm glad that you were able to talk them down, and I am definitely going to enjoy this well-earned rest, but let's not let our guard down entirely." Magnus says as they cross the bridge into the town. "Let's rest up now and explore the city tomorrow."
The houses within the town are made of logs and sod. The streets, such as they are, are mostly mud. The place has a pervasive odor of fish and smoke. Folk--mostly women and children--have come out to stare at you as you pass by. Their clothing is mostly leather and fur, with some homespun cloth here and there. All the population that you see as you pass is human.
It's hard to judge, with so many crammed within its palisade, but you think the population here might be equal to that of Three Oaks. You've seen no sign of any farming in the area, but there are small gardens within the walls, and signs of wild vegetation that has been harvested from the wilderness--roots, tubers, wild onions, mushrooms, and the like.
Oglan, Klervan, and the soldiers lead you through the town toward the docks, where you find yourselves before a long, single-story building near the docks. A cleverly painted sign shows a gray-bearded man asleep in a chair, a net thrown over him like a blanket and a mug in his hand tipping to spill its contents upon the floor.
Magnus' tired eyes gaze upward hopefully at the clever sign. "How cute." He then turns to one of the leading soldiers. "Being as you live so differently, isolated from other markets, I wonder how we may pay you for the night and accommodation."
Jon follows the party, his mouth closed and his eyes open.
The soldier shrugs. "Coin werks. We use it fer trade wit' outsiders."
Oglan turns to the group and says "This is the Fisherman's Rest. You can find food and drink here. It is also an inn where visitors from across the Tindal Sea bed down when they do not stay on their ships. You might find the master of that vessel to discuss passage here, or perhaps one of the crew."
"Klerval has other duties to attend to, but he has asked that I return later to see how you fare. May your stay be peaceful and productive." He smiles, revealing three teeth crafted of gold on the left side of his mouth, and favors the group with a bow from his saddle, before your entourage turns and begins heading for the rise at the center of town that holds a small wooden keep.
Magnus smiles back at Oglan before turning to go into the inn. Magnus pays for all of his comrades, including the stabling of their animals. Once that's all done, Magnus promptly retires to his room and snoring can be heard moments later throughout the inn.
The place is relatively clean, if old and timeworn...though you can't get away from the fishy smell. In fact, the food here consists of fish stew full of leeks, tubers, and an assortment of what you can only assume to be fish (which is actually not bad) served with small, hard rolls and a hard, crumbly cheese. The alcohol of choice appears to be a ginger beer which is the highlight of the meal.
The old man who runs the place simply goes by "The Old Man." You note that shortly after your arrival, the place begins to fill up. You'd guess that many of them are here to get a look at you.
Magnus puts down 5 gold for two rooms to allow for a respectful separation for our female and male members. He also asks for the morning meal to be covered as well.
The stares do not seem to particularly bother Stilgar, though as time goes on, they do make him rather uneasy. As delicious as the ginger beer is, he finds it difficult to enjoy.
Auric eats and drinks with gusto, glad to be out of the wilderness for a short time. He smiles and waves at the people there to see the group, keeping an eye out for anyone that looks like a sailor that they can ply for information.
Auric sees a lot of folk that look like they'd be comfortable on a boat, but since he's never lived anywhere with a body of water large enough for a ship, he's not sure what to look out for.
"I guess the docks would have the most promise far as gettin' a ship out to Fardusk. I've never taken a boat anywhere. Makes me a little nervous, thinking about it. Water far as you can see... Just a little wooden ship in a giant ocean..."
Stilgar pauses for a moment, trying to imagine that much water in one place. The thought that manifested made him shudder.
"I think I would be more comfortable on solid earth," he says with a grimace. Finally, eyeing the other people in the inn, he sighs in defeat. "I suppose it is folly to ignore them. They might have the information we need."
The cleric pensively approaches a few onlookers, introducing himself and asking about any recent going-ons, ways to cross the water, and of course, Fardusk.
Stilgar finds himself in a unique situation. The humans here stare directly at him. Except for children, most humans in the Marches avoid looking directly at a dwarf, even if they are being addressed by that dwarf. The townsfolk answer his questions, at least on a way to cross the water, but they're deliberately rude, as if trying to provoke him. It occurs to him that, barring any other exiles like Oglan, he may be one of two dwarves in this entire town, and the one that doesn't work for its ruler. One fellow, a rather burly fisherman by the look and smell of him, addresses the question about passage over the sea.
"The cap'n o' thet ship at dock kin get yew 'cross the Tindal, no doubt. Sooner the better, I'd say. 'Less yer bein' on the boat goes and turns the cargo o' fesh bad, not thet thaid notice in Fardusk."
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"Agnar, why am you in this game?" The small kobold looks around nervously. "Agnar, why am Kereek in this game?!?"
Whoops. Wrong avatar. Man, the heat is really baking the stupid into my brain.
Magnus can be heard snoring and mumbling in his sleep throughout the inn. "Monkey, go fetch my hatchet. There's a trufula tree to cut down!"
Stilgar finds himself balking at the attitude of the people he talks to. It dawns on him slowly how different the lives of the humans here must be, the revulsion that they so freely direct at him. If there were no threat of reprisal, would the humans in Dunshale, in Three Oaks be the same? It certainly put things into perspective, and made it rather clear that it would take far more than a few choice words to earn anyone's trust here. These disturbing thoughts delude Stilgar, but fortunately he keeps his good manners intact. Though, he could not help but to be a little offended.
"It seems you were right, Auric. I was told that the captain of that ship we saw might give us passage to Fardusk... assuming that he proves agreeable. Unfortunately, the people here are not very receptive of me. I suppose I should not have expected less. I am, after all, an outsider, a dwarf, and perhaps worst of all, a Baalite priest."
"You need to realize that the attitudes here are what you'd find anywhere that people were allowed to express opinions. You aren't like most of your race Stilgar, but most wouldn't dare to believe that unless they've been exposed to you." Kalaya says quietly."Decades of oppression will do that."
When nothing comes of their baiting, the locals eventually get bored and the place empties out except for the die-hard regulars, who studiously ignore the party and keep to their cups, and a group of men and women sitting apart from the rest, who spend the evening singing riotous songs before staggering out as a group. Eventually, you head off to the common rooms, finding that you're the only folk in them, providing plenty of space and privacy.
Come morning, you're awakened by a clangorous sound, like someone beating frantically on a cooking cauldron with a pair of maces.
Auric dresses as quickly as possible, belting on his sword and stepping out to see what the commotion could be.
Magnus has already been awake for a time, preparing his spells and re-organizing his pack. He sticks his head out of his room to see what is going on.
After stirring from his sleep, Stilgar performs his morning prayers to Baal, preparing his allotment of spells for the day. Only after does he move to see what is going on.
Auric rushes out to find the proprietor near the open door to the inn, where a large iron hoop hangs from a rope. The innkeeper has an iron bar in his hand, and is flailing away along the inside of the circle.
As he finishes, he turns and sees Auric.
"Ah, good, yer up. Breekfest is ready," he declares.