'A bit of the first frost will keep you hearty through the winter. That was the our shaman's idea,anyway.' Dugan says, stowing fear hurriedly, eager for a hot meal.
"We've got a few bits we picked up from the fight with the hobgoblins which should cover horses, after this hopefully someone will be up selling some decent ones. Heat up and dry off in the meantime... I'm not sure if your shaman was right or not but we're not all dwarves. I find you've got to mind yourself while travelling." Inconnu eagerly sets out about ordering some hot food as well, sitting down near a fireplace.
"I imagine that I feel the cold even less than the average dwarf. I still do not relish the prospect."
The Silver Bulette is a large inn, housing an expansive tavern on its ground floor. It proves to be a popular establishment, as many local loggers, porters, and craftsmen have already flooded in to drop their coppers on a half-decent breakfast.
However, despite the Bulette's size and evident popularity, you come to discover that its quality is far eclipsed by even Jak'a'Napes back in Falcon's Hollow. The offerings are meager: thin oatmeal, crusty bread, old butter, and sausages smaller than your pinky finger. Many of the patrons feel the need to start the day with a mug, and from a distance you can tell its best brew is a watered-down approximation of dwarven whiskey.
With a quick glance at the threadbare linens being shuffled upstairs and down, you begin to wonder whether a stay here would have been any better than camping out beside the town walls.
Dugan leans in to the group and speaks in a low grumble 'I'll starve to death eating this.'
Micheo is disappointed, but tucks in regardless.
"It is the fare before us. We can look forward to future meals with more optimism."
With a sigh Ulark said ”If this is our worst problem of the day then we will be blessed.” He couldn’t shake the feeling of there being an axe above his head, waiting to fall.
'Fine, but let's give me time to hunt once we're away from town. Couple of coneys and some foraged vegetables, we could have ourselves a decent dinner, at least.'
”Wouldn’t say no to that. Throw in some alcoholic water from here and we’ll have all we need.”
'See if we can buy a firkin of it. I have a mind for a hearty stew.'
Breakfast itself is a mere 3 coppers each, and the watery whiskey is 4 coppers per cup.
After asking the incredulous innkeeper, he says he'll fill a gallon cask for you with the "house whiskey" for 2 silver.
Ulark slid over a gold coin. ”We thank you for your hospitality. But before we go, is there any news you can share? Recent goings and happenings?”
Micheo watches, awaiting the reply with interest.
"Well, the biggest news is surely the army company that marched through here yesterday," the innkeeper says, leaning over to speak with you. An eager gleam enters his eye, and it nearly belies the onion smell that permeates his breath and armpits.
"Everyone's saying they're marching north to shut down the Consortium in Falcon's Hollow, put the loggers all out of work. Least, that's what I think. Some of the boys ask, 'Junken, why would they go all the way to Falcon's Hollow? Why not start here in Olfden?' Well, I'll tell you what I told them! If they shut down the supply of darkwood, it'll starve the Consortium in Olfden and Oregent and both those towns will dry up like a dead well.
"Then there's the folks who say its harpies and hags coming out of the Wood and the mountains again. Nah, they'd send more soldiers," Mr. Junken says with a dismissive wave of his thick fingers. "The craziest thing I heard was one of the wash boys from Master Thrum's place saying that the Sixth King was going to awaken. If that's true...well, if we don't start rounding up some elf maidens to please him, there won't be nothing left of Olfden but fire and ash."
Joanne hearing news that is there could be a major economic down turn for the Hollow thinks
"Oh that would really hurt the town....
If that comes to be I hope everyone can adapt to something new...."
The man seemed like he was truly into the tale. Ulark leaned forward, and doing his best to not sound guilty or anxious, said ”Shutting down the consortium? Why now? And who is the Sixth King? I’ve never heard of him, but that sounds ominous!”
Mr. Junken offers an exaggerated shrug.
"Who knows how the wheels turn down in Almas. Heavens know the Consortium ain't good bosses, but they offer pay. No sense rocking the boat just 'cause a few 'jacks are bellyaching."
A couple eyes turn your way at Ulark's less-than-quiet mention of the "Sixth King." This causes Mr. Junken to stoop his shoulders, lean in closer, and hush his voice a shade.
"It...it might not be the best idea to talk about him so loud, now that I think of it" he says, a hint of nervous fear creeping into his voice. "You know those mountains to the north? The Five Kings range? Well, there's this dragon - some say the oldest, strongest of them all. Supposedly every dragon within 100 leagues bows to him as their king. He's called the Sixth King of the Mountains because of how terribly powerful he is.
"Well, he ain't been seen for at least twenty years, but folks get spooked if you mention him, as though he'll hear and wake from his slumber to fly down and rain fiery destruction. I guess I got a bit wrapped up in chopping words that I forgot to watch my tongue."
A sheepish look overtakes the innkeeper, and he surveys his morning crowd, as though this superstitious faux pas might drive many of them right out the door.
”Well for all our sakes I hope it is just business above our pay that does it then. I hope to be back later. Until then.”
Ulark said with a smile, as he made to leave. He hoped to get out with his information without either raising any suspicion or ire.
Micheo keeps listening until Mr. Junken ceases talking.
As you depart from the counter, one of the seated patrons extends an arm and stops Ulark by softly placing his knotted knuckles against his solar plexus. You find a jovial, rotund man already deep in his cups despite the early hour.
"Junken is right. You should watch bringing up the Sixth King. It's right bad luck," he says, a mix of sweat and whiskey clinging to his whiskery mutton chops. "'course, seeing as I'm a spot of bad luck myself, I'm just the bloke to tell you about him, if'n you'll listen."
”Well, how can I say no to that?” Ulark responded, with a smile, taking a seat. ”I’m all ears.”
Micheo turns, curiosity springing up at the words and manner of the man.
"As I am. I am Micheo Barbulcus, servant of Saranrae. Who might you be?"
A broad, beaming smiles crosses the man's face as you join him.
"Oi! Junken!" he calls to the innkeeper, before tossing a thick gold coin across the way. The innkeeper catches the thrown money with skill born, evidently, from experience. He turns back to you and explains with a wink, "For anything else you might want.
"Anyhow, you can call me Walstaff. I guess you could say I've been around a while, so I've learned a thing or two - including about dragons. Now, I much prefer copper dragons. They're passionate freedom fighters and friends of Andoran, but more importantly, they really know how to revel and celebrate."
Walstaff offers a rattling chuckle, before drawing a heavy sigh.
"Of course, you're asking about a red. The king of the reds, in fact. Daralathyxl," he speaks the draconic name in a hissed whisper. "He's lived for at least two millennia, and he's one of the mightiest dragons in all of Golarion. When he rampages across Andoran, Isger, and Druma, he demands tribute in mounds of gold, priceless treasures, and elven maidens. His favorite," he adds with a derisive snort.
"His last awakening was fifty years ago, in the border region between Andoran and the Five Kings Mountains. I hear the dwarves in the mountains have never stopped keeping watch for him, though."
Ulark listened intently, his eyes shining with wonder. At that moment he looked every bit the naive lumberjack that he had spent most of his life being. ”Amazing.” He said, almost as a sigh. ”Such a dragon, here? Have you seen a dragon before? Do they speak common? How often does he awake?”
Inconnu settles in to hear the tale, even if he has heard a version before. Something told him the man was well enough practiced at it.
Micheo listens with a grave expression upon his face.
"Walstaff, that is quite a foe you describe. Has no church or band of adventurers sought to end this reign of terror? And most importantly, how would one slay such a creature?"
"Oh yes, I've seen dragons before," Walstaff says with a gleam in his eye. "They speak many languages, including some that have not been heard in many ages. As for the Sixth King, he has thankfully become less active with each passing century. In fact, it seems like whenever folks begin to speculate that he's finally died, that's when he makes his fiery return to remind Avistan that his power has not diminished."
Micheo's question seems to catch Walstaff off guard, and his eyes widen with a start.
"You'd sooner manage to slay an earthquake than the Sixth King. He's as much a force of nature as the fire and magma that sleeps within Droskar's Crag. If you fancy yourselves ambitious dragon slayers," he says with narrowed eyes, "You'd be better served setting your attention to Moschabbatt, the Blood of the Mountain. Make no mistake, there are few mortals who could defeat such a foe, but at least it is not wholly impossible."
"Moschabbat? Another red? Or perhaps a white? I think any true dragon of adult age would likely be a lethal quarry. We'd have an easier time finding and slaying a forest drake, and would provide some lessons for us to learn I think."
"Moschabbatt is actually a magma dragon, and a relatively ancient one at that, but his power still pales in comparison to the Sixth King," Walstaff corrects Inconnu. "Well, the Vale is home to quite a few flame drakes that would be easier prey, but then again I suppose the ideal would be to avoid going dragon hunting altogether. Of course, if one of the brutes comes snapping its jaws and hurling fire at you, it would be folly not to defend yourself."
Walfstaff offers an exaggerated shrug on the matter before he shifts the conversation's direction.
"Then again, a less draconic yet more monstrous foe that needs to be dealt with," he says in a lowering voice, leaning in close enough for you to smell many mugs of whiskey on his breath, "is that Lumber Consortium. I've known many blokes who worked themselves to death trying, in vain, to get out from beneath their mercantile boot. It ain't right. It's a reminder that not all chains are made of iron."
You've met characters like Walstaff before. This fellow is clearly as much a fixture of the tavern as any of the tables or chairs, and he can certainly hold his drink (watery though it may be), yet he is no liar and speaks no tall tales. He speaks with earnest, and the local stories you've heard confirm what he tells you regarding both dragons.
As for Magma Dragons, they are a kind of "primal dragon" whose roots lay on the Elemental Plane of Fire. Magma dragons are solitary creatures. They are temperamental creatures given to lashing out violently. Other dragons view them as dangerously unbalanced, with a great deal of justification. Although you have not heard the name "Moschabbatt," you have heard stories of a magma dragon, lairing in the Five Kings Mountains, that has hoarded many ancient dwarven relics - including legendary artifacts precious to the stout folk.
"Indeed. Dragons are mighty foes, and I merely seek advantage if we must cross one. The Consortium are another matter, and a foe worth opposing."
"Indeed, there's plenty of villains. Some who use bribery and bend the law to defend themselves. I know of some their crimes and it's more than enough for me to agree with you." He gives an easy smile "When next we pass through we'll have to let you know if we have any run ins with dragons or villains... I'd agree a run in with a copper dragon would be a lot more fun."
Joanne adds on the chains comment
"And not all prisons or jails have walls."
"Trust me: once you've spent a night raising mugs with a copper dragon, any other night at the tavern will seem tame," Walstaff assures you, raising his own flagon to emphasis his point. If you have no questions for the knowledgeable old lush, he bids you a cheerful farewell.
Outside the Silver Bulette, you find that the morning sun has climbed atop the rooftops of Olfden. Shopkeepers are opening their doors and shutters, loggers tote their axes as they march towards the western gates, and all sorts of other laborers and porters maneuver their way to work.
Inconnu tries to see if they can locate somewhere to buy mounts and appropriate trappings to help them close the gap with the soldiers.
"Farewell, Walstaff. You are a man generous with your cheer and your knowledge."
You stop a passing cooper's apprentice, and the young lad offers to lead you to Tepid Transports. He knows the shop well because he adores passing their paddock on the way to and from work so he can pet the donkeys that sidle beside the fences.
Following the apprentice, you find what is likely the largest shop in all of Olfden. Serving the needs of loggers, farmers, and adventurers alike, Tepid Transport actually straddles one of the main roads through town. Upon a wide green to one side sits its paddock, where numerous draft animals graze or sit in the shade of their stabling. The main shop, on the other side of the road, displays all sorts of wares, from the simplest tack and and harnesses to whole carriages and rowboats.
As soon as you enter, you are greeted by the sultry-voiced proprietress, Marteva d'Salle.
"For your troubles... and in case your master grumbles." Inconnu gives the coopers apprentice ten silver pieces.
"This young gentleman recommended your stables. We're looking for five strong steeds, with saddles and a few days feed. If you have them to hand appropriate barding for them, leather would suit fine, no need to slow them down with heavier but the roads can be dangerous so it'd be worth the investment."
"We look forward to doing business with you, Ms. d'Salle."
The apprentice is agog, and his eyes widen as though Inconnu had dropped a diamond into his small hands.
"Thank you sir, thank you!" he babbles, clearly bewildered by the generosity. He scrambles off, his eyes darting between the road before him and the coins in his hands. You strongly suspect this is the most money he's seen at one time in his life.
.....
"Please, please," Ms. d'Salle beckons in a breathy voice. "Follow me across the street. I will show you our animals."
She lifts a panel in the counter and steps out, further coaxing you along with a turn of her slender fingers. He leads you along, still offering information on her wares.
"Strapping fellows such as yourselves certainly have the look of adventurers. Even when my late husband ran the shop, we never saw anything in the way of war-trained steeds, but we have plenty of sturdy animals that can meet your needs."
At the fence girding the paddock, the Widow d'Salle summons one of the young grooms inspecting the hooves of a reluctant donkey. The distraction allows the animal to slip from his grasp and trot away, across the green. At his employer's instruction, he soon leads forth a pair of horses. One of them is an immense draft animal, clearly sturdy enough to haul heavily laden wagons, while the other is more sleek and slender, its legs promising great speed.
"Our animals come from neighboring ranches. If you ask me, the old Elberwick Shire should be more famous for its horses. The big one, Croft, is bred to pull carts of lumber, so carrying an armored hero," she says, looking to Micheo in particular, "is a trifle. Unfortunately, we only have three such draft animals at present. We do have six lighter riding horses, such as Damsel here. They may not be as sturdy, but they are spirited, to be sure."
Regarding saddles and barding, with a warming smile, she explains that you are in luck - the shop has begun stocking such more specialized items to suit her growing adventurer clientele.
"I believe your selections will suit us admirably.", says Micheo, quietly pleased with the beasts.
"I'm sorry for your loss but am happy to see you've maintained such a good stock. Speed is our main concern rather than combat but the roads can be treacherous. We'll make do I'm sure. The three draft horses and three of the lighter, we can use the spare horse for carrying some supplies."
Ulark stood in the back, letting others do the talking. Still somewhat afraid of being recognized, he was more than happy to keep a low profile.
(200x3)+(75x3)+(50x5)+5+((10x4)x5)
600+225+250+5+200=1280gp
"Thank you for your sympathy," the proprietress says, turning her attention to Inconnu, "but he passed quite some time ago. I am out of mourning, but it can be so lonely. But for now, let us focus on business. I would imagine you have need for the animals, tack, and barding immediately, yes? We can arrange that."
d'Salle dispatches her grooms to fetch the horses and her shop assistant to bring the saddles. She guides you back to the shop counter and brings forth a thick ledger. With a quill, she scratches some figures to calculate the cost. She provides a slight discount, along with a coquettish wink, and offers the six horses, saddles, tack, and barding for 1200gp.
"Perhaps you'd like payment in something less hefty than gold? We've got some gems that can meet your generous price and easier for you to find a spot to keep them hidden. There's a tale behind these but it will have to wait for another day."
Micheo stands patiently, knowing barter and trade are amongst the list of matters that are not his strengths.
When you present the gems, the shop assistant's eyes practically leap from their sockets. For her part, the young widow shopkeep touches her fingers to the spot below her neck, clearly also taken aback by the uncanny treasures.
"I've certainly never been offered such payment before," d'Salle gasps in awe. "While I know far more about wagon wheels than jewels, even I can recognize their value. These will cover the bill nicely."
"You've been most hospitable, when we're next in need of horses we'll have to keep your business in mind." Inconnu smiled "We'll be leaving shortly however, thank you for helping us on such short notice."
Dugan oversees the saddling of the horses while the others see to haggling with the stable owner.
Micheo moves to assist Dugan with the horses.
With payment rendered, your new steeds and their accessories are brought out to you by mid-morning. In addition to the two horses first presented to you, Croft and Damsel, the Widow d'Salle happily introduces the other animals. The other two heavy horses are named Longfellow and Baron, while the two light horses are named Ruffian and Isinglass.
"These new companions will carry you wherever you're going with great speed, I'm certain," she says with a smile of pride.