”Must be expensive.” Ulark said warily. ”Can’t imagine manticore meat comes cheap. Think the supplies are local?”
"Perhaps this is a business for adventurers?"
"But of course!" an exuberant male voice answers Micheo's question. The source is a round-faced man with an immaculately groomed mustache. He sets down the three bowls upon his tray, each containing steaming dumplings, for a table of diners before he continues to speak. "In fact, I daresay that I owe my success to - well, in addition to my culinary mastery - to the Azure Guard, formerly one of the finest adventuring companies in all of the Vale.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he rubs his hands on his apron before offering a bow. "I am Master Chef Tobias Thrum, and I welcome you to my restaurant. But as I was saying, the Azure Guard were the ones who first brought me samples of grick - and then bravely sampled my experiments with cooking them, until I hit upon boiling as the best way to bring out their succulence."
It becomes readily apparent that this colorfully dressed man needs very little prompting before launching into conversation, perhaps to draw attention to his business.
"I now proudly depend on Olfden's adventurers, both local and new arrivals, to bring in an array of ingredients for my next masterpiece. I am especially looking forward to serving braised owlbear breast."
"But aren't some of those ingredients from sentient creatures? I don't think I could stomach that, the owlbear does sound interesting. I can't say I've ever tried eating some."
”Seems to me to be only fair. If they try to eat you, you are allowed to eat them.” Ulark shrugged. ”What’s the going rate for owlbear meat?”
Micheo ponders on whether he has ever been taught the ethics of eating such creatures.
While creatures of animal intellect, such as owlbears and grick, are given no special protections, killing and eating sentient beings such as the fey would be seen as wicked. Manticores, if for no other reason than you are unsure of their sentience or intelligence, are a gray area.
However, for religious sects with dietary restrictions, there remains debate about whether to classify owlbears as game or fowl.
"Oh, but gricks, owlbears, and manticores are mere beasts, the same as an elk or a cow," Chef Thrum protests with a wave of his thick-fingered hand. "And even Pixies, I've heard, are no more than colorful insects that loggers must swat away.
"But I prefer to discuss business in the morning. For now, I must focus upon my beloved customers."
"Another time then."
Once the Thrum has walked awayInconnu shakes his head at the chef's flippant manner. "I think I can find something suitable." The excitement gone from his demeanor and his appetite dampened.
Pixies are indeed sentient. Andoren law should ostensibly protect them, but north of Oregent the law is very unequally enforced, especially in regards to the fey and their allies. Given that Chef Thrum is only seeking pixie wings, you're fairly sure that local law would condone this, even though it is far from ethical.
Dugan slouches in his chair and cocks his head, thinking for a moment. 'We never thought to toss fey in the cook pot.' He slowly chews the air trying to imagine the taste.
Micheo thinks, then speaks. He speaks in the tone of one teaching.
"Gricks and owlbears incur no special prohibition. The eating of fey is a darker thing, as they do have minds. Pixies are no mere pest. And I am not at all certain whether manticores are mere dumb beasts."
"Manticores aren't going to overthrow the academic or arcane world with their intellect but they're capable enough in their own way. But given our current journey making a big scene about this right now seem ill considered."
"They're sidestepping the rules around pixies as he's only seeking the wings. I'm not inclined to eat goblins ears either so he can keep it clear of my plate."
"I am not keen on the idea. But I have said my piece. Let us get a plate of something more wholesome."
You step inside the restaurant and flag down Chef Thrum before he retreats back into the kitchen. At first, he seems about to dismiss you with a spot of rising frustration, but when you hold up the signet ring provided by your recent acquaintance, his countenance softens immensely.
"Oh! You are friends of Miss Dosatora? I had no idea!" he exclaims. "Please pardon my earlier behavior. Is she back in town? Will she be joining you tonight? Please allow me to show you to our best table."
Chef Thrum escorts you to a table at the back of the restaurant's common room, situated beside a wide, outwardly bowing window that offers a sweeping view of the greenery beyond. The land slopes down gently, allowing you a pleasant perspective of the park that sits between the Thrumming Birch and the grounds of the Town Hall in the distance. The sinking sun's waning light filters in through the panes and lattices, bathing your table in pleasant, orange light.
"This evening's special is boiled grick dumplings served in a broth of carrots and leeks," Chef Thrum announces proudly. "We're also serving a potato and barley pottage with shaved ox shank, and a fish pie served with salmon, pear slices, and pitted damson plums."
"There is no need to worry. Miss Dosatora is well, we escorted her back to town. She said that she will join us later. And the fish sounds marvellous."
"The pottage with ox shank sounds very tempting, I think I'll try it."
”Am I dead? That chain monster killed me, didn’t it? This has to be the afterlife.” Ulark said, his mouth watering, as he heard what was on the menu.
'I'll have a bit of both, hauling all this metal around makes a man hungry.'
Chef Thrum, mentally noting your orders, withdraws into his kitchen. His other serve soon arrives to replace him, setting down a ceramic pot upon the table. He lifts the lid to reveal a strange loaf of rye bread baked within the pot.
"Locals call this Mud Pot Bread," he explains, removing the crustless loaf from the pot. "Rather than baking it in an oven, the dough is placed within one of these pots and buried on the edge of a mud pot or hot spring down in the lowlands. The ground's heat then bakes the bread."
The server then sets down two small dishes beside the loaf, one cradling butter and the other a mutton pate, along with some small wooden knives. As you sample the strange rye bread, you find it very dense although rather naturally sweet. It is a delightful way to tide you over until your dinners arrive, leading you into what is, without a doubt, the finest meal any of you have ever tasted.
Just as your steaming bowls and plates are placed before you, Miss Dosatora arrives to join your table.
Micheo tucks into the local delicacies and finds himself thoroughly enjoying them.
By the time Miss Dosatora arrives, he is in a much better mood.
"Hello, Miss Dosatora. My thanks for the meal, there is much good food to partake of here."
"Welcome, I can't say I've ever had Mud Pot Bread before, this along makes the meal worthwhile."
Before she can take a seat, Miss Dosatora is intercepted by the master chef. He seizes and shakes her hands vigorously, thanking her for her family's contributions to his restaurant. His profuse praise makes it clear that the Dosatoras, in addition to local adventurers, provide Thrum with a steady supply of grick to make his delicacies.
When the chef finally frees her, the socialite takes her seat with a heavy sigh, relieved to be finished with that embarrassing public display.
"I hope you are enjoying your meals," she says, her well-bred smile returning to her face. "Worry not about payment. Master Thrum will simply add it to my family's account."
She slides her letter upon the linen tablecloth. It is a single sheet of parchment, folded in thirds and sealed with red wax. The wax seal is stamped with the same symbol emblazoned upon the signet ring she gave you.
"Here is the letter I would like delivered to Adamas," she says sweetly. "It is for Ingrid Odeber, but tell them that Jillia Apta will handle the payment."
"That sounds reasonable."
"Very kind of you." Inconnu smiles though inwardly he ponders the contents of the letter... what might it contain. The use of the old family's signet seemed curious to him.
Surprisingly, Miss Dosatora does not stay long enough to enjoy her own meal. Instead, she quickly though politely excuses herself.
"Since we last parted, I learned of some pressing matters at home, so I must prepare to depart for Oregent immediately. This makes me all the more relieved that you have agreed to deliver this letter to my friend. Thank you, all. I look forward to our next meeting."
The socialite rises and begins to leave. Before she can escape, though, Chef Thrum presses a bag into her hands - insisting that she take it with her. Rather than arguing, she simply accepts the gift and continues on her way.
With the exquisite meal finished, you find yourself in the large, peaceful farming town on a cool spring night. Shall you seek lodgings or brave the benighted road and make for Adamas immediately?
"I would leave unless any of you wish to see the town."
'I could sit and eat all day, but I have no real interest in anything else here aside from maybe unloading some of the trinkets we've found.'
"We've made good time so far but lets lighten our load as Dugan suggests before moving on. A brief respite only might be the most prudent course of action right now."
Despite the evening hour, quite a few shops remain open - likely in hopes of catering to the adventuring clientele that Olfden has been cultivating.
Ulark decided to sell one of his axes, under the idea that too many weapons was practical for adventuring. Now with two battles axes, one cold iron and the other enchanted, he felt better better about the idea of another trip.
"I've heard of Ingrid Odeber before, I believe she's the commander of the garrison at Adamas."
Dugan will accompany Ulark to sell off his old scale mail and battleaxe.
Micheo will accompany Durgan and Ulark.
[ooc]I cannot recall anything he wishes to sell.[/i]
Not far from the restaurant, you find a smithy. Although its forge sits dark and cold, likely so the hammering and smoke does not disturb neighbors trying to sleep, a pair of lanterns hang beside the entrance and illuminate the shop's sign - labeled as The Swordsharp Man. The clerk inside, looking nothing like a smith, agrees to pay a fair price for your old gear.
.....
The guards atop the four towers that protect the town's eastern gates watch you curiously, likely puzzled by anyone who would risk traveling by night. They do nothing to stop or warn you, leaving you be as you depart.
The waxing moon lights your path. The road runs alongside the Elberwick Rise, but a fence of wooden rails has been erected to keep people away from the cliffside. This east road is well traveled, suggesting regular traffic between the town and the stronghold of Adamas. On your right-hand side grows a young but dense copse of trees, rising from the remnants of an old arm of the Arthfell Forest.
Halfway along the three mile distance, you spot Adamas ahead. The moonlight catches upon the white stone tower, highlighting your destination like a beacon. This leaves little wonder to why the stronghold's nickname is the Gleaming Tower.
Ulark walked along, happily. Everything was going so well! He loved it outside of Falcon’s Hollow. The air that night felt especially good. He was just happy to be alive and free.
Dugan attempts to casually draw near as many of his companions as possible. 'Something's watching us from the trees' He says, keeping his voice low and even.
Micheo gazes at the tower, then hears Durgan urging him over.
Inconnu nods wishing he could spot them but trusted Dugan's dwarven eyes. They had been through so much since they met he accepted it easily. He readied himself for any attack that might come but resisted the urge to draw his weapon or cast and spells just yet.
The next few moments are unspeakably tense and suitably quiet. The wind rustles the leaves, but no nightbirds sing, and even the insects have grown hushed. You almost dare not to take any further steps forward.
Then, the anticipated moment comes, and the stillness of night is shattered. However, it is not an attacker who emerges. A lanky, bare-chested man bursts from the trees on your right. He stumbles forward and trips, falling upon the dusty road. He desperately scrambles away from some unseen horror lurking among the young growth.
"Please! Please save me!" he croaks, still splayed upon the ground. "Don't let them take me again!"
Dugan immediately readies his shield in the man's direction. As the situation becomes clearer, Dugan turns his shield in the direction of the man's exit and steps between the man and the trees, readying Glintaxe.
Ulark let his weapon drop, first in relief and then in concern. ”Calm down, you’re safe now. You’re safe with us. What has caused you to be so frightened?”
Inconnu draws his shield. What had the man so scared? Hobgoblins, wolves? Anticipating his pursuers to be coming in quickly he casts grease where the young man just emerged from.
You do not need to wait for the frightened, babbling man to find his words again before learning what lurks among the shadowed trees.
A pair of hobgoblins burst forth, brandishing their thick bladed swords, only for the both of them to slip and tumble upon Inconnu's magical grease.
Three more members of this warband emerge on their heels. Two of them loose arrows, striking Inconnu and Ulark. The last one, aiming to avoid the fate of the two comrades upon the ground, steps around the grease, shining in the moonlight, and approaches the party with sword and shield raised.
Dugan laughs heartily as the large goblinoids come slipping out of the undergrowth but quickly gains his composure and edges around the patch of slick earth to engage the nearest standing Hobgoblin.
Round 1
Shaking off his surprise at the hail of arrows, Ulark joined Dugan in the counter attack.
Inconnu steps forward to confront the hobgoblins. "We've faced worse than these, to arms!" As he finishes the statement he draws his sword for emphasis.
Micheo feels a headache, as the visions kick in, and his tongue furls.
He does however step in the path between the frightened man and the hobgoblins, yelling in a foul-sounding speech:
"By Saranrae' Grace, I will have this man protected from your wickedness!"
The two fallen hobgoblins struggle to rise to their feet, one of them managing to withstand two swings of Glintaxe from Dugan. They toss aside their bows and draw their iron swords. The one on the flank lowers his shield in order to rush towards Micheo, inflicting a painful wound with his sword.
Ulark easily parries an attack from his foe, nearly wrenching the sword from his grasp. In return, the former logger practically cleaves the left arm off of the hobgoblin in front of him. Inconnu's voice rings through the night, spurring his allies to new heights of heroism.
Another of the hobgoblins steps forth and brings his sword down heavily upon Dugan, but his mighty armor just manages to protect him from the blade's bite. Joanne jogs forward and launches forth with a strong kick, but her foot only strikes, much to her ankle's dismay, against the hobgoblin's shield.
Meanwhile, the frightened man shuffles back, away from Micheo and his faltering battle against one of the hobgoblins. The man groans as though in pain, but it is largely drowned out by the din of battle.
Dugan and Ulark deflect more incoming blows, while Micheo suffers another painful wound.