|
| 3 people marked this as a favorite. |
Frigid are the winds that blow from the high peaks of the Spine of the World and the great frozen expanse beyond them. Frigid and eerie, filled with lost voices of great empires long gone, old gods and friends lost to the mists. To those who dwell in the shadows of the great mountain range, those winds are something to be tolerated and endured when needed, but never something enjoyable or friendly. Cold are the winds that bear the worg's howl and banshee's wail, but none are colder than the breath of the Spine of the World.
In the foothills of the great mountain range nestles a large village of mostly stone houses, cobbled streets and even great granite lamps built wherever one street crosses another, all in the shadow of great fortress built on the crag far above the village, with only a narrow road leading up to it. The ruins of the castle are covered with snow and centuries-old ice, that has frozen to hardness of steel and holes in the walls and crenelations are filled by crusted layers of snowfalls, so old that they've compressed into stone-like mass.
The castle is large and it's central tower tall, but not enough to explain that sharpness of view, that richness of detail laid bare to the eyes of casual observer. It almost seems that the air of the small mountain valley beneath the crag possesses some unnatural quality that lends clarity to each glance pointed in the direction of large ruins, but not anywhere else.
A crow flying above the village would note smoke rising from about a fifth of the surprisingly well kept houses. Most of the village is empty of life - there is no livestock tended in the pens and barns, there are no pets chasing vermin... and there are no children. What few people that can be seen on the streets are all adults, of various races and ethnic origins, of various backgrounds - as seen by their diverse clothing and weapons that are always near at hand.
Said hypothetical crow would in time land on the rooftop of the large building in the central square of the small town or large village, call it what you will.
The house is three stories high above the ground floor and its roof is peaked enough to have a large attic, but the huge windows of stained glass are indication enough that the attic was converted into living space.
Indeed, the ground floor of the building is also converted so that much of the front wall is covered by similar windows, of small glass panes set into a led frame colored and put together in such a way as to show great forest of oak and birch, trees spreading their branches above various small animals nestling in the brushes. Such windows would be almost beyond belief even in the great towns of Cormyr or even in Watterdeep. This far north, in a village that seems forgotten by both mortals and gods those windows are nothing short of a miracle.
Above huge oaken doors is a large iron spike from which hangs a figure of a pig, roasted with an apple in its mouth. The pig looks to be made of gold, but the small cracks reveal that it is in fact made of wood, covered by golden-colored paint.
The Golden Pig inn, run by the dwarf named Kagain. The last home for many a exile, lost soul and wanderer who came to the edge of the world...
The crow that may or may not be perched on the inn's peaked roof would crane its head, carefully looking who would approach the oaken doors next.
The crate is old, perhaps ancient. There are decades, or even perhaps centuries, of dings and scrapes on it's old patina'd surface. An ancient paper waybill was once attached, but only yellowed remnants still attached with glue around the edges of where the waybill was.
The crate belonged to a passing traveler who left it as collateral for room and board and storage, their intention to explore the castle.
They never came back.
So the crate sits in the storage of the inn, unopened, gathering dust and cobwebs...
At the urging of the young farm boy, Attikus approached the village. Good stonework, fine houses. Obviously someone here has sense. As the man goes deeper into the village, his gaze drifts to the castle above the village, and an involuntary shiver runs down his spine. That seems...different.
Finally he spots the large building with the golden pig hanging from the front. Unusual indeed. Why does such a place exist this far into the wilderness. Obviously this place is...or was something special. I guess this is as good a place to start as any.
With a final grunt Attikus steps to the door to the place, and knocks the mud and snow off his boots by banging them against the stone placed outside for just that purpose. He takes one of the stiff brushes from the shelve above it to remove any stubborn clinging detritus. Then satisfied with his cleaning, he opens the door. A blast of warm air make his cheeks sting as he enters, and to his great relief sees the dwarf obviously in charge of the inn. Removing his backpack he closes the door behind him and scans the layout and occupants of the room. Hmm. Nice windows, even if they do cater towards elves.
Early that morning, a lonely figure trudged up a snowy hill to a ramshackle house overlooking the village. "This must be the place", he muttered, breath frosting in the cold.
At the threshold he took a moment to compose himself thinking, I must do this right, even though I want nothing more then to be south where it's warm. With a shake of his head, he knocks on the door and calls out, "Amy are you there?'
His call is answered by a muffled sob, and gently he calls out again, "Amy I have news, may I come in?"
"I guess you'd better had, I knew this day would come, it's about Michael isn't it?", said Amy with a sigh as she opened the door. Suddenly pale, she gasped, "Oh! That's his sword isn't it, oh Michael, what have you done?"
Taking off his hat, Marcus stepped in and replied, "Yes Ma'am, I'm afraid so. You'd better sit down, I'm afraid its bad news..."
Hours later, a somber looking Marcus retraced his steps through the snow heading into town, and his thoughts turned maudlin thinking of his lost friend. What I need now is a fire and an Ale. Oh and the southern pass to thaw, ha! Fat chance, Auril's winter is in full swing. I'm stuck here, and what a place to be stuck, full of everyone with a past they want forgotten. I'd best keep a low profile.
As if on cue, the doors open again and an elf enters. Well, nearly an elf. while his ears and build are those of an elf, his long black hair and his small stature are clearly human. On top of that, his pale grey skin and eyes give him a sickened look. His full winter clothes are half-open on his lamellar leather armor as if the weather was too mild and he carries on his back a bundle of javelins and a hand-and-an-half sword in a worn scabbard.
"G'dday Quaggoth,", he says to the huge albinos behind the bar. "Has anyone arrived today ?", he adds with a bit of both apprehension and eagerness in his voice.
Sitting at the bar, he nodds at the familiar faces while he removes his cloak, placing it on a stool near the bar. Then, unloading his weapons, he puts the javelins against the bar and keeps the sword on his knees and absentmindedly stroking the handle. "We did a good job this morning, didn't we", he says to himself before asking the barkeep for a bowl of hot honey mead.
Then his head suddenly swap towards the dwarven priest. "All right, all right, I'm sorry", he mutters to himself again before talking to the dwarf priest in dwarfish. "Good morning, master. Has a caravan eventually found her way to here?"
Sat in a dark corner of the inn, Marcus stares at ale he'd been nursing for the past hour lost in thought. A sudden blast of cold air makes him look up to see an elven looking man with long black hair walk in, obviously a local.
Marcus turns back to his ale, a dark and heady brew, thick enough to eat. Although his ear's prick up when the half elven man introduces himself to the dwarf in dwarfish no less, asking about a caravan.
Picking himself up, Marcus walks over to their table and in passable dwarfish, addresses the pair, "Good days, sirs I hope you don't mind but I overheard you asking about a caravan. I came over that pass on foot a few days ago, and right treacherous it was with snow and ice. I judged it all but impassable, yet what did I see this morning, but a caravan descending yonder hill!" Marcus shakes his head and continues, "They must have had a devil of a job to get here, I wonder what their story is. The caravan master I traveled with claimed only a madman would try that pass at this time of year. I guess we'll find out soon, they'll be in town in an hour or so."
For once Faerin accompanies Kelagh to the Golden Pig. She accepts the small payment for the brace of a brace of coneys on a meal and drink for the pair. Now they are settled munching on a dark meat pie, Kelagh looks about for a chance at conversation unlike in the wilds.
Kitao's endless wait aboard the Emperor's Grace to reach his destination is boarding in the insufferable, as his patience begins to grow smaller with every passing day, with endless sea on all sides and the occasional stop in different ports.
"Gaijin people are barbarians, they have no hygene, no..." as a face of disgusts passes through his face and just remember "Remember your studies, about gaijin they are barbarians, no hygene and more than likely poor educations" yet there was still some hope perhaps for he had seen many different types of people, some small and skinny looking men or more like hairy children perhaps, some stout stone bearded looking kami creatures called some strange word he yet needs to memorize and then the tall and thin pointy eared men that he can relate for their grace but they act as if they were higher in the Celestial Order than a honored bushi of the kuge.
While his book do reference of many different gaijin cultures we trade with, he would have never imagined that we came this far, but it would suit him just as well for he was bound for glory and trade is one way to expand the influence of his family and the Heavenly Emperor.
After months of travel, Kitao finds himself in a caravan with other man towards a forsaken place called Briarwood "Final destination finally on hand, and I'm ready to find a hospitable guest house, with a nice bath and a tea house if the Fortunes wouldn't mind".
As the caravan begins to enter the town, Kitao notices the architecture "Just can't get used to this tasteless architecture, it's more likely to find this on a worn out stronghold for war than a town" looking at the hefty mountain range view "Beautiful... but this unforgiving cold" as he shudders for a moment regardless of his warm clothing " It's as if Fu Leng cold breath would blow through that mountain range to greet us with the same embrace a gaki would and devour me". Lost in thought he notices the caravan has stopped in a what seems to be some sort of sake house, where he would expect to find fellow soldiers enjoying a drink. Noticing the golden pig sign and muttering to himself "This is indeed an omen of the Fortunes" as he pushes one of the great oaken doors open "Gaijins are indeed golden pigs" as kitao smiles to himself.
The elvish woman sits alone in the back of the Golden Pig inn, as close to the fire as she can stand allowing the heat from the flames to warm her body, still shivering despite the heavy woolen cloak she wore.
Words unfamiliar to her echo across the common room, an irritating buzz in her head. Every once in a while she would wave over the barkeep for a refill of her wine where her drow heritage was clearly evident. Less so was the unfamiliar strain of another race, a race unknown to the world of Faerun.
Those who approached her found her manner as cold as the reputation of all drow they have run into before. Still her beauty was enough to draw more than a few casual glances and remarks. The way she caressed the large obsidian blade, a style not seen before, and also the spiked chain hanging from her belt was more than enough to discourage any advances.
She watches the crowd closely, noting those who seemed capable of handling themselves, theor body language speaking volumes. She knew she would have to approach one of them soon...yet who would prove worthy of her trust?
|
|
As if on cue, the doors open again and an elf enters. Well, nearly an elf. while his ears and build are those of an elf, his long black hair and his small stature are clearly human. On top of that, his pale grey skin and eyes give him a sickened look. His full winter clothes are half-open on his lamellar leather armor as if the weather was too mild and he carries on his back a bundle of javelins and a hand-and-an-half sword in a worn scabbard.
"G'dday Quaggoth,", he says to the huge albinos behind the bar. "Has anyone arrived today ?", he adds with a bit of both apprehension and eagerness in his voice.
Sitting at the bar, he nodds at the familiar faces while he removes his cloak, placing it on a stool near the bar. Then, unloading his weapons, he puts the javelins against the bar and keeps the sword on his knees and absentmindedly stroking the handle. "We did a good job this morning, didn't we", he says to himself before asking the barkeep for a bowl of hot honey mead.
Then his head suddenly swap towards the dwarven priest. "All right, all right, I'm sorry", he mutters to himself again before talking to the dwarf priest in dwarfish. "Good morning, master. Has a caravan eventually found her way to here?"
Large bear-like creature snarls openly at Raven, while wearing an apron and cleaning a large silver goblet. "There are many Quaggoth, puny elfling. My name is Gorm. Call me by my name or don't call me at all!" He grumbles for a while, which sounds more than vaguely threatening, even if not aimed at Raven. "We have many guests today", he finally answers. "Well, more than usual, anyway", he corrects himself. "They sit by that table over there. And there's that drow b!#&+ sitting alone. I'm still half-minded to rip her head off and be done with her, no matter what the big man upstairs says." He grumbles some more. "Anyway, we found some junk in the storage. A large chest or something. The dwarf said it's yours if you're still looking for something to put your stuff in. The little you have, that is", he finishes.
Taken back by the reply, Raven glares at his blade before raising his hands in sign of peace. "Sorry, master Gorm" he said, "I was told this was your name. I guess someone wanted to have fun at my expense. And thanks for the chest, I'll have a look as soon as I can."
|
|
"Mrph!", harrumphs the great white beast. "Yes, well, be that as it may, your chest is in the storage behind the Pig. You know, big stone building. It says "Storage" on the sign in front of it. Just in case you mistake it for something else." He bears his fangs in a grin that maybe was supposed to be funny, but it was in fact a terrifying sight to behold.
Totally surprised to see one of the elven blood speaking the stone tongue, Attikus turned his head in puzzlement, like a confused pup.
"Caravan huh". "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about". "I just arrived minutes ago, and the only caravan I arrived with are my left and right boot".
As if on cue, the doors open again and an elf enters. Well, nearly an elf. while his ears and build are those of an elf, his long black hair and his small stature are clearly human. On top of that, his pale grey skin and eyes give him a sickened look. His full winter clothes are half-open on his lamellar leather armor as if the weather was too mild and he carries on his back a bundle of javelins and a hand-and-an-half sword in a worn scabbard.
"G'dday Quaggoth,", he says to the huge albinos behind the bar. "Has anyone arrived today ?", he adds with a bit of both apprehension and eagerness in his voice.
Sitting at the bar, he nodds at the familiar faces while he removes his cloak, placing it on a stool near the bar. Then, unloading his weapons, he puts the javelins against the bar and keeps the sword on his knees and absentmindedly stroking the handle. "We did a good job this morning, didn't we", he says to himself before asking the barkeep for a bowl of hot honey mead.
Then his head suddenly swap towards the dwarven priest. "All right, all right, I'm sorry", he mutters to himself again before talking to the dwarf priest in dwarfish. "Good morning, master. Has a caravan eventually found her way to here?"
"Well have a seat gentlemen". "Names Attikus". "So you weren't lying about a caravan". "Must either be a fool or a greedy man to try to beat winter through that pass". "Obviously it's not dwarven led, or we'd have brought it thorough the mountain". "Har! Har! Har!"
"Maybe they'll show up". "If they weren't all killed by an avalanche".
Sat in a dark corner of the inn, Marcus stares at ale he'd been nursing for the past hour lost in thought. A sudden blast of cold air makes him look up to see an elven looking man with long black hair walk in, obviously a local.
Marcus turns back to his ale, a dark and heady brew, thick enough to eat. Although his ear's prick up when the half elven man introduces himself to the dwarf in dwarfish no less, asking about a caravan.
Picking himself up, Marcus walks over to their table and in passable dwarfish, addresses the pair, "Good days, sirs I hope you don't mind but I overheard you asking about a caravan. I came over that pass on foot a few days ago, and right treacherous it was with snow and ice. I judged it all but impassable, yet what did I see this morning, but a caravan descending yonder hill!" Marcus shakes his head and continues, "They must have had a devil of a job to get here, I wonder what their story is. The caravan master I traveled with claimed only a madman would try that pass at this time of year. I guess we'll find out soon, they'll be in town in an hour or so."
As the eleven blooded and the human make themselves comfortable, Attikus leans forward conspiratorially. "I'm not from around here, and have spent most of my days in Mithral Hall, but is it normal to have hobgoblins, and drow sitting around drinking like they belong"?...and a Quaggoth behind the bar"? "Not that I'm judgmental or anything...just seems kind of well odd".
As the eleven blooded and the human make themselves comfortable, Attikus leans forward conspiratorially. "I'm not from around here, and have spent most of my days in Mithral Hall, but is it normal to have hobgoblins, and drow sitting around drinking like they belong"?...and a Quaggoth behind the bar"? "Not that I'm judgmental or anything...just seems kind of well odd".
"People call me Raven here", replies Raven. "And I don't think anybody is really from here. It's just a place to be went you want to be forgotten. So people don't ask questions. It seems safer that way."
Raising from his seat, he smiles "That said, I have something to go and look at. Kagain doesn't offer anything without reason. Please keep that warm for me, I'll be right back to see what news the caravan is bringing.",
|
|
Raven exits the inn and walks behind it. There are four large stone buildings there - one obviously a shed for the coaches and carriages, one is a stable - with several halflings tending to mountain ponies - and one is clearly marked with several signs that spell STORAGE in various languages. The fourth building is smaller than other ones and some ways behind the rest, up against the low wall that separates the inn's yard from the rest of the village.
Exiting the Inn, Raven rounds it to enter the storage building and look for the mentioned crate. Finding it under its layer of dust and conweb, he spits into his hands and lifts one corner to start dragging it.
Halfway up, he feels something shifting inside and drops the crate in surprise, barely missing his foot.
"Hey, it's not empty.", he says aloud, frowning as he tries to open the box. As the lead resists, he draws his blade and sticks it in the barely visible joint before using it as a lever to crack the crate open.
"Sorry, but you're the best tool I have.", he offers as he pulls the lid off. "Now what by Gond is that?" he says as he discovers the small wooden-like statue.
Kitao is amazed at the range of different creatures assembled within the humble sake house, and shaking his head "This gaijin do not know the important things in life, this is just a alcohol place for heimin to mingle, but I must endure it" as he makes his way to an empty chair in a table and looks at the big bearded, smelly and in severe need of some instruction of proper decorum man that probably owns this establishment "Barbarians!" as his eyes open in amazement "You must see beyond this small things" as he finds reminding himself constantly about how different things are.
Kitao thinks about how to find the attention of the small bearded man by waving and giving him a friendly smile, but the unavoidable heavy Wa accept comes out as he speaks "Sake and some food, at my table if you may" as he bows slightly and awaits for the small bearded man to answer.
As Raven gets up to leave the Inn, he cannot help but notice the eyes of the drow woman watching him with a mixture of curiosity and a hint of...fear possibly? As their eyes meet for just a moment, he is struck by their color a fiery blood red of a kind no drow has ever sported. The eyes continue to follow him as he steps outside.
As morning turns to evening, Marcus finds himself observing the ebb and flow of the eclectic crowd at the Golden Pig. Having grown up in cosmopolitan Waterdeep, Marcus thought he was used to seeing lots of different races but this place was something else. A veritable melting pot of language and races, with elegant Half Elves brushing shoulders with Quaggoths and even a Drow! Her entrance caused Marcus a moment of panic, with her strange ebon blade and icy stare, but she didn't seem to have any evil intent in her heart and before he knew it she sat down quietly at a table keeping herself to herself.
Talk about a convention of the strange and beautiful, I feel positively mundane...
The inside of the crate is fairly well packed. There are walnuts burying the wooden statue inside, acting as a buffer. The statue appears to be darkwood in construction, with a few bits of brass here and there as either ornamentation or connective bits.
There is an indention in the statue's chest, with a couple of walnuts rattling inside it. It looks like something is supposed to go inside it.
Attached to the inside of the lid with leather straps is a round blue crystal, about the size of a large man's palm. It appears the same size as the indention on the statue's chest.
There's also a piece of paper inside the straps, easily pulled free.
Dear Count Vostyk,
Enclosed ys the Golem you requested built. Yt has Various modyfications to Enhance yt's Ability to provyde assistance on your Arktyk Expedition. To actyvate the Golem, place the actyvation Gem yn yt's Chest Braket. Once Ynserted, turn the gem wyddershyns one quarter turn, and the golem wyll be actyvated.
Dominick Revith, Master Golem Crafter
Revith Golem Wyrks
25th of Melting, 1087 DR
Kelagh beckons for the black elf to join her and Faerin, then makes introductions.
"We work the wilderness around here, usually on patrol. Today we finished and felt the need for company.....well I did. Faerin prefers her own company mostly. I have been here for three seasons and I do not remember seeing you before?
The inside of the crate is fairly well packed. There are walnuts burying the wooden statue inside, acting as a buffer. The statue appears to be darkwood in construction, with a few bits of brass here and there as either ornamentation or connective bits.
There is an indention in the statue's chest, with a couple of walnuts rattling inside it. It looks like something is supposed to go inside it.
Attached to the inside of the lid with leather straps is a round blue crystal, about the size of a large man's palm. It appears the same size as the indention on the statue's chest.
There's also a piece of paper inside the straps, easily pulled free.
** spoiler omitted **
Reading the paper two or three times, Raven palms the jewel as he sits down to think. "You taught me all I know about magic. Do you think I should try to awaken it? Won't it be dangerous after all this time?", he asks out loud. "Sometimes I think I should just have left the temple the first time I saw you. I'd be at home and not huddling in a storage room with a golem almost 3 centuries old."
"Hey stop that!", he says as the sword clatters on the floor when he take his head into his hands, nearly dropping the crystal. "Not so fast! What do you mean by doeetdoeetdoeetdoeet?"
Picking up the blade, Raven moves into a fencing position, advancing slowly towards the golem and inserts the crystal into the required spot before turning it into position. Jumping backwards, he half-crouches, sword in one hand while arcane energy crackles on the second.
|
|
Kelagh beckons for the black elf to join her and Faerin, then makes introductions.
"We work the wilderness around here, usually on patrol. Today we finished and felt the need for company.....well I did. Faerin prefers her own company mostly. I have been here for three seasons and I do not remember seeing you before?
As you wave at the Drow, you see both caution and incomprehension in her crimson eyes.
|
|
Picking up the blade, Raven moves into a fencing position, advancing slowly towards the golem and inserts the crystal into the required spot before turning it into position. Jumping backwards, he half-crouches, sword in one hand while arcane energy crackles on the second.
As Raven picks up his blade, he remembers the Drow watching him strangely from her table. Is this some kind of a trap? But what would the dark cousins want with him?
The blue crystal does nothing...
...for a good 30 seconds. Then it pulses brightly. Electricity runs over the wooden form, radiating out in 8 lines from the crystal, running over the body.
One arm reaches up out of the walnuts. The fingers move, one joint at a time, from thumb to ring finger (it seems to only have four fingers, with no pinky, so no drinking tea in polite society). Then the entire hand flexes, first normally, then the entire hand reversing which is palm and which is back of the hand.
Next the hand rotates, first left until the thumb has gone around twice, then right, again twice. Then the forearm moves, up and down on it's elbow. Then the elbow rotates the forearm, 360 degrees. The arm then lowers.
The other arm then repeats the entire process.
Then the golem sits up, walnuts dribbling off it. The head tilts this way and that way, checking each range of motion. Then it rotates completely around, first to the right, then to the left.
The two hands grasp the edges of the crate, and the golem's body lifts into the air, rotating at the shoulders until the feet and legs are held up in the air. Each foot tilts up and down, back and forth, this time in tandem, before rotating twice in each direction. Then the knees go through the same test the elbows went through. Finally, the hips rotate and tilt, until the entire lower set of legs rotate around twice swiveling at the hip.
Then the golem pushes itself up and backflips onto the ground.
The golem rotates it's head around, taking in the entire area, as well as the arcane energies and extended blade. It's left hand begins to click as it folds up and out, revealing a hole in the end of it's arm. A morningstar extends out of the opening, and is swung experimentally. Then the hand on the other arm cliks and folds back in multiple little clicking noises. Both hands end up forming a cowl over the forearm. Within the right arm, arcane energy wells up, and the arm points toward Raven, crackling with arcane energy, a faint humming sound emits from the arm.
"TIK'KLIK" The noise comes from the golem's head and it stands there, mirroring Raven's stance.
"I don't mind the company right now Kelagh, Faerin says with a glimmer of a smile. "If I did would I be here right now?" She looks over to the traveler that her companion was beckoning over, a part of her already twitching at the company of strangers.
Kitao is amazed at the range of different creatures assembled within the humble sake house, and shaking his head "This gaijin do not know the important things in life, this is just a alcohol place for heimin to mingle, but I must endure it" as he makes his way to an empty chair in a table and looks at the big bearded, smelly and in severe need of some instruction of proper decorum man that probably owns this establishment "Barbarians!" as his eyes open in amazement "You must see beyond this small things" as he finds reminding himself constantly about how different things are.
Kitao thinks about how to find the attention of the small bearded man by waving and giving him a friendly smile, but the unavoidable heavy Wa accept comes out as he speaks "Sake and some food, at my table if you may" as he bows slightly and awaits for the small bearded man to answer.
Attikus frowns at the strange looking man making demands of him.
"I'll give you some Socky all right, just now what you might be expecting". "And you can find you're own blessed food". "And, who says this is 'your'table". Attikus spouts his long day no balm for his already cranky temperament.
Frozen in place at the sight of the golem animation, Raven hums to clear his throat and, still weary of the creatures, orders:
"All right, if you can understand me, nod", he starts in common tongue. Then he repeats the instructions in elven, dwarf, drow and draconic.
Anwyn sees the two travelers beckon her over to join them and pauses for a moment, uncertainty plain on her face. Still considering how the other patrons were treating her (which was fine by her) it would be wise to get closer to someone who could help her.
Rising to her feet and wine glass in her hand, she glides over to the table and takes the proffered seat. She then speaks a few words in the Elvis tongue though wih an archaic accent.
Kitao's eyes narrow as if they weren't already narrow already "Celestial Order doesn't recognize you, but yet I will for the sake of my goal you miserable eta" as he regains his composure "I ask forgiveness and meant no insult, for you are a strong bearded man that seemed to own this..." as he looks around with a somewhat sour face not knowing how to describe it, but nonetheless he would not be deterred of trying "Guest house". "Not to mention a great deal of pungent odor and lack of manner" as he brings himself to smile in the most courteous manner and then in a more loud but not aimed at someone in particular hoping not to offend someone else and so he could get something for his empty stomach and maybe it will also help him forget the shock of this gaijin barbarians lack of hygiene and general importance of manners and proper decorum. "Can I have a drink and some food here please! preferably some sort of meat if you may"
|
|
Almost as soon as Kitao shouted, large wooden door that separates the long bar from even longer and larger fireplace opens with a bang and a stocky and fat but a same time very brawny dwarf exits what is obviously kitchen, bearing a large plate filled with large pieces of meat.
He goes straight for the Kitao's table, all the way shouting "Coming, coming! Hold yer britches!"
Suddenly, he stops and looks at other tables. For a bit, he seems confused and then shouts heartily "Fer Moradin's sake, if ye think I'll run like a little goblin-rat to serve three tables, yer mistaken! Come, come, there's enough room fer all of ye at this one table!" Seeing that not everyone understood him, he repeated that in Elvish and continued to place the meat at the middle of the table with the largest number of patrons. "First meal and first drink in The Golden Pig are free! What brings you to the Spine of the World, my friends?" he booms.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"Well, Faerin, this might be a challenge for you. A drow. And one who's words I cannot understand."
The crusader tries to introduce herself in goblin and then sylvan in the vain hope that she may speak one of them.
A free meal? I'm pretty sure there's no such thing, still I don't see the harm in saying hello.
Marcus wanders over to the table and in dwarfish, and addresses the generous dwarf, "Kagain I presume? I must complement you on the window, it's magnificent! Before I set out I read about it, but somehow Volothamp's words just don't do it justice... Anyway I'm getting ahead of myself, the name's Marcus. I have the pleasure of serving Torm, although it was a sad duty that drew me up here."
For a moment Marcus grows distant, before continuing somberly, "The saddest of duties, the one I dread the most, being the executor of a friend's will. Still it had to be done, and better it was me than a stranger." With that he falls silent, lost in thought.
"Tik'Klik"
The arm doesn't waver, but the wooden head nods four times. Once each after each sentence when spoken in Common, Elven, Dwarven, and Draconic.
It's rather creepy how still the golem is when it's not nodding, a perfectly still statue, until it moves again.
Anwyn hears the harsh guttural tongue spoken by the...(orcish?...) Spawn of Irazdor and shakes her head in response. On hearing the Sylvan tongue from her mouth she nearly dropped her wine glass in surprise. Still much of what the woman said made little sense to her.
Haltingly she replied in the same tongue,
"Tik'Klik"
The arm doesn't waver, but the wooden head nods four times. Once each after each sentence when spoken in Common, Elven, Dwarven, and Draconic.
It's rather creepy how still the golem is when it's not nodding, a perfectly still statue, until it moves again.
"Good, you can stand down. From now on, you will only obey my orders and only when they are spoken in this language", he says, speaking draconic. "Can you really cast spells? And are you trained to do other things?"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Kitao stands and gives a slight bow towards the new bearded man that came with the food "You are a great host and I thank you for your hospitality" as he prepares to eat his meal, but he begins inspecting all that is brought before him, and trying not to pretend it is not clean, but the meat "Gaijin can do one thing pretty well it seems, at least they can cook" as he savors every bit of the meat even before he begins to eat it, but he stops himself before he eats and looks at those seating with him "I humbly receive" but only silence follow "Barbarians, they do not express proper gratitude for a meal. What am I suppose to do with this strange utensils" as he stares at a crude knife and some sort of single chopstick that has multiple prongs on a sturdy ample base "Gaijin are strange indeed" lost in thought for a moment he suddenly realizes he is in company and composes himself "from what Province... er.. Kingdom do you come from?" as he looks at the other people sitting at his table.
"Tik'Klik."
The light dies in the golem's arm, and the mace retracts. The hands click as the arm cowls break apart into small squares and fold over each other until the reform fingers. The golem's feet klick, and split down the middle along the bottom. Heavy steel blades extend down, raising him up a couple of inches, as the ice skates click into place. The feet reseal, then they click open again and the blades retract inside them.
The golem looks down, and it's chest plate folds out, revealing a pack. Reaching into the pack, the golem pulls out a rope, then a hammer, some pitons, a saw, a blanket which it tosses away, a belt pouch, some chalk, a flint and steel, an iron pot, which it tries on it's head before throwing it away, a mess kit which is also looked at and then tossed away, some soap (again thrown away after a short look), and finally something that might once have been trail rations which are tossed away along with a waterskin.
The chest plate closes up with just the retained equipment. Then the golem looks at it's fingers, which click and multiple tools slide out of the tips, looking like a full set of lockpicks. These are then retracted into it's body again.
Finally the golem's head does a 360 rotation before finally coming to a stop looking at Raven. "Tik'Klik"
Sheathing his blade, Raven looks in amazement at the multifunctional golem and nods.
While he talks, Raven picks up a bag to empty the crate into it, packing it with walnuts.
Marcus looks quizzically at the strange man, before thinking no, he really is serious. In a patient, but polite tone he replies, "Kingdoms? Well I suppose it's possible somebody here hails form Cormyr or Amn but those kingdoms are thousands of leagues away. Most of the people here probably come from some place not much bigger than this. Myself I hail from Waterdeep, a city state far to the south of here, a place built on trade. Maybe you've heard of it?"
Kitao considered himself tall for his people, but the mountain of a man that speak to him and his strange accent. "Well some gaijin know how to speak even if it's with their very strange accent" Kitao nods to the man and he continues to listen about this Waterdeep place "Wonder what kind of magical water barrier they have or is it on an island to have that name??" "Yes Waterdeep sounds familiar, I believe we made a stop there on the ship, but to be sincere I have no idea what you speak of, or what this Abmn or Amb and Cormeir place you speak of. You gaijin have strange ways indeed" as kitao nods to apparently no one but himself as he looks completely certain of his words and turns to speak to the other person at the table. "From what kingdom do you come from great bearded one?"