Neils follows after, living for valor another day.
Electing to run rather than fight, the caravan hurriedly pulls into Jace’s Stanchion. The creatures that have so doggedly pursued them have given up their chase the closer the caravan has gotten to the small village.
Found in the northern portions of the continent of Femon, west of the Barony of Soliel, rests the small town of Jace's Stanchion.
The buildings of Jace’s Stanchion tend to be single story affairs. With a foundation of stone that must be drawn from the local quarry, the floors have puzzle-like tiles that have been placed together for added stability and do not seem to use mortar. The walls of many buildings are constructed of heavy, knotty logs, seemingly at odds with the ingenious stonework. The roofs are composed of thin, geometric stone shingles, interlocking almost like a turtle shell, supported by thick wooden columns. These shingles are expertly crafted phrenoric ore. All buildings look solidly made and in good condition, obvious pride has been taken in their appearance. Surrounding a central court built around a statue of an impressive-looking man are the tell-tale signs of a blacksmith, tailor, stonecutter, and general store.
The weary and battered caravan makes their way over the bridge and into town. The caravan master walks up to you. "Well, that was a harrowing journey to say the least. Gonna make a great story to tell the grandkids one day. I cannot thank you all enough for your levelheadedness. You earned this and then some." he flips a pouch of clinking coins to you.
"Got delivers to make, so I best be off. You might want to head over to the The Absent Eidolon Tavern . It is the only place around here worth getting a drink at. Be seeing you!" he ends cheerfully before wiping his brow with a spotted kerchief.
the date is.
Squirm jumps lamely down from the back of the wagon and stretches lopsidedly
Tavern sounds good, tavern means people. Someone round here has to be worried about the attacks... about our arrival at least...
"Where is everyone?! Tavern I say, last one there's a deer headed weirdo"
and with that he's off, limping slowly off.
As he makes his way he spots a child hiding around the corner of a building, he diligently checks his cloak is in place before calling out
"Hey kid, what's your name? What to see a trick kid? Where is everyone anyway?"
"The Absent Eidolon eh? Interesting name. I'll certainly head that way. And thanks for the honest payment! Sorry we could do no better."
Upon arriving at the tavern, after ordering a meal and an Ale, to any who look talkative "So, on the road we were attacked by several creatures that walked on two legs & had antlers on their heads. I don't know what they are but they were accompanied by Feraxes on every occasion. Any idea what they are and what, if any, abilities do they have? How is it that they seem to know who has psionic abilities?"
"So what is it about the folk here in this town? Everybody looks similar? Also I noticed no guards except for the ones at the delivery area? Surely you have more town guards?"
"Also I passed by your market on the way here and noticed you seem to have an excess of items that were most likely not made locally &, no offense, but they seem a bit old & not in the best of shape."
As Squirm interacts with the locals of Jace's Stanchion, he decides to manifest some of his psionic power on some of the locals. Besides getting odd reactions and dubious stare, he can sense an underlying feeling of fear, and sadness, but it is almost unperceptive in nature.
The small child walks away from at a brisk pace, completely uninterested in his 'trick'. Whether this is do to great parenting, "Stay away form Dromites you don't know.", "Never stay around to see a stranger's trick." or just some latent xenophobia, Squirm cannot say.
Neils looks down at the money and then back up in surprise. "What!? I thought this job was round-trip. You can't leave me here."
Continuing to look down, Neils is mumbling to himself. "I wish Aidan was here...he'd know what to do next."
Neils does to navigate to the tavern. He bumps into townsfolk along the way, but something about them makes his skin crawl. He can't bring himself to meet their eyes for more than a second, let alone carry on a conversation.
Somewhat taken aback by the child's fear, Squirm rejoins the others as they head for the inn.
Strange place this indeed
"Worry not Neils, mighty heroes find their destiny in taverns such as this, not in the dust of caravan wheels"
As the new friends walk into The Absent Eidolon they notice that unlike many of the other taverns they have frequented, there is no buxom waitress with her blouse unlaced, no surly barkeep polishing a glass with a dirty rag, spittle, and elbow grease, and the patrons seem quiet and reserved, rarely looking around or talking. The air is clean, a small fireplace stands cool in the warmth of the late morning sun, and the floor is strewn with fresh wood shavings giving the tavern a pleasing, spicy scent.
At a corner table sit the four of the surviving guardsmen, the brothers Morris and Simon, and the married couple Syonne and Bertrand. They sit in joyful jubilation with the job ended and their lives still in their own hands.
”Couldn’t believe the antlers on that thing. I wish we had time for me to field dress it and hang it over our bed. What say you, Syonne, care to redecorate?” the large man Bertrand guffaws at his own jest.
”And what palatial estate have you acquired for us, Bertrand? If I remember correctly, we have slept in hedges more than pillow topped, four-posters these last few years.” comes Syonne’s sharp tongued response.
”Ha! She’s got you there, Bertrand. The adventure is in his blood too much, Syonne. You know that.” Morris adds with a twinkling of his eye and a smirk.
”Visitors. The greenies.” states Simon without expression.
All four heads turn towards you.
Squirm limps over to the table of veterans and looks up at them, face barely showing over the tabletop.
"I daresay you saved our arses more than we saved yours back there, and that, inveterate as you are, you've rarely had worse journeys. Allow me to wet your throats in return. I don't want acceptance, just repayment and your comfort."
With that Squirm turns and heads to the bar
"So, on the road we were attacked by several creatures that walked on two legs & had antlers on their heads. I don't know what they are but they were accompanied by Feraxes on every occasion. Any idea what they are and what, if any, abilities do they have? How is it that they seem to know who has psionic abilities?"
"That .. sounds .. like .. hanoshafyr. I don't know much about them."
"So what is it about the folk here in this town? Everybody looks similar? Also I noticed no guards except for the ones at the delivery area? Surely you have more town guards?"
"We do? I have never heard that before."
"Also I noticed no guards except for the ones at the delivery area? Surely you have more town guards?"
“House Duarran keeps us safe.”
"Also I passed by your market on the way here and noticed you seem to have an excess of items that were most likely not made locally &, no offense, but they seem a bit old & not in the best of shape."
"We have what we need. It makes for a nice life" come the unemotional responses from the populace of Jace's Stanchion.
"Why thank you. Mighty nice of you, Squirm wasn't it? That was one harrowing ride. I hope the next leg is much easier." comes Bertrands thank you.
"It will have to be. Couldn't have gone much worse." Simon adds in as he plays with one of his knives.
In response to the caravan guards: "We do appreciate your help in healing our fallen comrades. ... The next leg? Is there another stretch to this trip that we are unaware of? I thought Jace's Stanchion was our destination?"
Talking in just a whisper so that just our group (other caravan guards included) hears us: "There's something terribly wrong in this town. It seems that they are lost in time or something. They are obviously in-bred amongst themselves & they have nothing new in the market, only old, dusty items that were not made here & are in many cases in a state of dis-repair. They don's seem to care about much of anything & put a little too much faith in this 'house Duarran'. I don't like it. I want to either get out of town as soon as possible, or maybe investigate this 'house'. What do you all think?"
Neils blinks in surprise as Christaph brings up his concerns.
"I had chalked it up to apprehension or something. I mean, we had to fight through an army of those things to even make it here. Maybe they're just tired and scared from being besieged by an army of crazy deer-people?"
Morris looks at Simon, as Syonne looks at Bertrand.
"Christaph is it? A caravan never has a final destination, just a next one. We plan to be on that caravan to the next one, wherever that is. Depends on what the caravan master has left, what he acquires, and what he hears. Basically wherever he stands to make the most profit." adds in Syonne.
"We should be pushing off in a few days, week at the most. We can add in a good work for you with the caravan master if you wanted to head out with us. It would be nice to not have to worry about our back." declares Morris as Simon just flips his knife absentmindedly.
"But the locals do seem off, that's for sure. I will be first in line when we pull out of here." adds in Bertrand.
"You always are." teases Syonne.
"You all are welcome to do whatever you want. We'll probably have a look see, take in all Jace’s Stanchion has to offer. We can meet back here around lunch time if you want." declares Simon, still playing with his knife.
"For sure staying away from crazy deer-people." laughs Betrand as he pulls a long drink from the tray Squirm brought over. "Thanks again my dromite friend."
"Well, if nothing else comes up before then I just might be willing to go along on the next leg of the caravan's trip. In the mean-time I think I may be trying to check things out around this mysterious town. People actually feel some sort of 'reverence' towards these creatures as well as fear. These creatures are somehow able to detect who has psionic powers? And why since there are no guards, why do the creatures not attack the town or continue attacking the caravan as it rides into town? And if this is a trading post for caravans, why don't they have any newer goods for trade? I tell ya', something awfully suspicious is going on around these here parts. Too many questions and not enough answers."
"It's an isolated sort of place. If that makes the people a little strange, I don't suppose I mind so much. Still, it might be better to move on sooner, rather than later. For now, let's stay in touch, yeah?"
She eyes the guardsmen's table, and figures the four of them will probably have to find their own. She picks out one nearby ]b]"Over here, eh?"[/b] she asks the remaining three.
Neils nods along with Vara's decision "Maybe we should see some sight's around the town? Getting wasted in the tavern seems...sad."
"Sounds like a good idea Neils! I'm certainly up for 'seeing' the town. I wouldn't recommend doing so alone however. I suggest we stay in groups of two at least. Neils? You want to come check out the general store with me?"
"Sure, maybe we can find some more potions."
"Yes, now that we have some more coin, some healing potions might be a wise investment. At least I still have the one those guards gave me since the Dromite was not in need of one."
"spritely as ever the dromite is!"
As if to illustrate the point Squirm does a little leap landing before Vara. Extending a croocked elbow as if to take the lady by the arm. His arm is roughly in line with her knee.
"Then it's you and me m'lady. Let's grab a quick drink then I say we should pay a visit to these Duarrans, thank them for the sanctuary they have provided"
and maybe find out a little more about what the hell's going on here!
Vowing to return at lunch, the group breaks away from the seasoned caravan guards and heads towards their destinations.
This square is dominated by a fine marble statue of Jace Meldarion. A scattered few wagons and market stalls sell semi-exotic cloth, fresh fruit and other rare commodities for the community.
The groups moves from stall to still noticeably absent are the cries of hawkers and a general feeling of the energy of other markets they have visited. Those few patrons move swiftly towards what they are intending to purchase, speak quickly with little desire to barter, and return to whence they came with their newly bought goods.
"Good Morning sirs. I am named Squirm, a regrettable circumstance I know. I understand we owe the sanctuary we have found in your lovely... if quaint... town, to the ministrations of the noble family within. I would give my thanks! Do they ever stoop to accept visitors without invitation?"
"Hallo Squirm. Aren't you a nice chap. Odafin, the master of the house, is away."
"On business?" the other guard adds in as both scrunch their faces in concentration.
"Yes. That seems right. But Horik is here. Does he accept visitors?" the first guard queries the second guard.
"Not sure. I'll head to the house. You watch these two."
The guards quickly end their private conversation which was held out in the open as the second guard treks to the manor.
He returns a short time later with the same languid expression. "Nope. Not today. Try back tomorrow." he tells to both the first guard and Squirm and Vara.
Both guards start to look around before snapping back to the dromite and half-giant combo clearly resuming their duty.
The two make their way over to Matei's Magical Makeshift Market. A middle aged man, round around the middle and losing hair at an accelerated rate lounges in a wooden contraption which resembles a cross between a chair and a bed. The man pops on eye open to observe the duo approach him. He rolls off the canvas lined furniture and brushes his robes smooth and flattens his wispy hair flat to his palate.
"Matei here. Boys look like you mean business. Whatcha looking for?"
"An invitation, how splendid. And with Horik no less! Now..."
Squirm sidles closer to the guards and looks around in a conspiratorial sort of way
"I have been absent from civilized parts such as these for too long, how would one such as I address one such as Horik? By title?"
The second guard tilts his head to the side. "I call Horik, Horik. What else would you call him?" The second guard looks expectantly at Squirm.
Idiots!
"as for Horik, I can see me subtleties are lost on you, who is Horik?"
Both guards look at one another. "Horik is Odafin's nephew. He is in charge of House Duarran."
"Which keeps us safe." the other guard intones.
The 'keeps us safe' thing was starting to become a bit of a theme by now.
"How's it they do that, though?"
Diplomacy to not come off as poking into their private business:
Neils hangs back, window shopping the rest of the area and letting Christaph do the talking.
"Magical healing. Um ... yeah ... I should have something somewhere that does the trick." Matei rummages through a canvas bag behind him. "How much money do you have, these things don't come cheap?" Matei eyes the guards suspiciously after their declaration of limited funds.
"Hanoshafyr and Veraxes? Tremendous beasts. Roam the swamps near here. If you are heading back to the swamps, be prepared to meet them again. Better stock up boys."
"Uuugghhh. By keeping us safe." comes the stammered answer from the first guard.
"So we are not unsafe." comes the worse answer from the second guard.
"You mean Horik?" comes the second guard's response.
"Or you mean us?" they both say in unision.
Looking at each other, the first guard turns back to the half-giant. "Well, nothing really bothers us here. That keeps us safe."
"No one relly messes with anyone else. So does that count?" the second guard adds, clearly at a loss for what the half-giant is after.
Its short fuse blowing, Squirm turns and heads away from the manor
"what were they, brain washed zombie idiots?! The colony. That doesn't sound like a place that greatly welcome outsiders... Shall we?"
It starts hobbling in the direction the guard had gestured when he refered to the colony
As a dejected Squirm and Vara leave the company of the two House Duarran guards, Squirm's mood immediately brightens as they cross the road to the make shift community of Dromites. The green coloration of their carapaces indicates their Glimmer caste status.
A regal looking dromite approaches the duo. His antennae twitching fervently, he greets them in a warm manor, "Hello. I am Nisk Stone and this is The Colony. What brings you here?"
"We shall. You know, I think someone has these people under their sway. Isn't this what mindslaves are supposed to be like? I wouldn't mind leaving sooner rather than later."
She tries a smile at the friendly welcome. "The guards mentioned your place, and I think my friend Squirm here has gone a while away from his kinsmen."
“So what can we do for you?”
”We have people move in. Someone just moved in … a while ago.” Matei’s eyes seem to wander to the empty market where no patrons are to be found.
Squirm crouches in a strange curtsy like deference before linking arms with it and walking him back towards the Dromite settlement
"Strength to your colony. Xenophobia seems to be the east of their problems, what do you know of the house yonder?
"Speaking of: why is it that people stick around out here? Things seem pretty slow for a trading outpost, and I hadn't heard anything about any mining going on around here. How do the folks in this town get by?"
"Why does anyone do what they do? I make a good living, no real need to go anywhere. Do people travel a lot where you are from. Obviously you do or you wouldn't sign up for a caravan. Right?"[/] Matei tries to joke with the duo.
”You speak of House Duarran as the house yonder. It is difficult for us to understand humans and their ways. I know little other than they control the trade of phrenoric ore.
This land that we live on is perfect for us to run a small indoor garden, cultivating rare plants using our psionic powers. We can trade if it interests you. We have by far the best source of vegetables, spell components, and various other sundry goods in Jace’s Stanchion.”