"Do not fret, dear Tatya, every merchant caravan needs a 'healer' of some form. Either that or you could pose as the bookkeeper and/or a dual voice in business transactions. As I've said, between you and Bostarg, if battle could always be won with words, none could stand. Alazandaru will pose as a protector, as shall I. Easy enough. Remember, what we are likely to deal with in such a small town is nothing more than fools. Now, unless any of you have other ideas, I say we prepare to leave. And as soon as we're ready to depart, we then can finish the task at hand."
With a grimace, Tatya switches out her unholy symbol for the silver and sapphire pendant stolen from from the body of Sir Eldon. "Then I am once again a healer and servant of virtue," she sighs. "Not Estella; she's supposed to be with the Yutak. If it got abroad that she was seen in Aldencross with a group of merchants, it might draw attention. I will be Margoleine, hideously boring do-gooder hired on with travelers to escape the monotony of her little life."
Disguises in place, our villains approach the sleepy town of Aldencross. A small town not unaccustomed to traveler's, it takes little to breach the open gates. Smoke rise above from several forges as you make your way through, the central road leading to a market square filled with vendors selling their goods. Children play in the streets carefree while soldiers make their patrols, eyes still alert for signs of trouble even in this quiet place.
It takes little to learn that Aldencross only possesses one inn that caters to traveler's such as yourselves. The Lord's Dalliance, the building possess two stories of rooms for travelers above the spacious ground floor itself. Having still arrived before the afternoon rush, the room is still fairly vacant. Behind the bar stands the innkeeper, cleaning a glass in traditional fashion who welcomes you as you enter. "Welcome to the Lord's Dalliance, travelers. I am the innkeep, Bellam Barhold. How may I welcome you today?"
Beyond the innkeep, the only other current occupants are a couple of pretty serving girls preparing tables, an older gentleman at the bar with his facedown in his arms and a half-full drink in front of him, and a trio of soldiers in the back, apparently already off-duty.
"But of course, Master Jonas. How long do you plan on staying? A private room with a single bed goes for 2 gold an evening, or if you fancy we do have a suite on the top floor available. A couple attached rooms with beds and a single common area. That runs about 5 gold a night. Special rates for extended stays as well, 10 gold for the single and 30 for the suite if you stay a week." He takes in the group again. "I could recommend a couple smiths if you need any upkeep on your equipment, find you someone with a fair price and good work. And there's a temple about three blocks from here, Sister, for any of the Inheritor's needs. Father Niven is a kindly man, though getting on in his years." The man is quite jovial as he greets you all.
"Of course, Master Jonas. And if there's anything else you need, please don't hesitate to ask." Bellam eagerly takes Jonas's money, his gaze obviously glancing at Bostarg's purse. He quickly orders one of the serving girls to show you upstairs to the suite.
The suite itself is as much as one would expect. The main room offers a small sitting couch and a table with chairs for meals. Two rooms break off from the main to allow for sleeping arrangements. Each of the bedrooms offers a window with a view of the main street, a similar but larger version in the main room.
After a short while, giving everyone time to recover from your travels, another serving girl comes to the door bearing the requested food. "Good evening gentlemen, lady. I have brought up a meal as requested. A lamb stew with a red wine. Will there be anything else?"
"Margoleine" summons a smile and a nod for the innkeeper when he directs her to Father Niven and the temple. Must be sure to avoid the priest, she tells herself. Given the slightest cause for suspicion, he'll be sure to find me out.
A real smile doesn't come until they are shown to the suite. It has been too many days of sleeping in the open on the deck of the Frosthamer since the last time she had the comfort of a roof and a bed. The arrival of hot stew is even more welcome. "Bless you, child," the false priestess smiles at the girl.
At the first opportunity to do so quietly and subtly, Alazandaru whispered to the others-
Did you notice the soldiers at the back? Whats the likelihood they are posted at our target... it seems to me we have an opportunity here. How should we best use it?
Aedorn finds his eyes pulled to the serving girl's curvy waist and can't help but smile slightly as they walk up the stairs. After food is delivered he speaks up, smiling with a wry grin. "How can I get you on the menu?"
The arrival of hot stew is even more welcome. "Bless you, child," the false priestess smiles at the girl.
The serving girl returns a sincere smile, "Thank you, Sister."
Aedorn finds his eyes pulled to the serving girl's curvy waist and can't help but smile slightly as they walk up the stairs. After food is delivered he speaks up, smiling with a wry grin. "How can I get you on the menu?"
The serving girl brings up a hand to her mouth and gasps, "Aren't you a little forward for one so small?" The practiced smile she flashes back to Aedorn a sure sign she's accustomed to this sort of behavior, which quickly becomes a blush as she shifts back to Margoleine. "Um, will there be anything else you require?"
After the stew is delivered, Jonas is about to speak when his brother's words turn lecherous. Flashing him a violent glance to quell the halfling's loins, Jonas' look implies that words will follow when time allowed.
Turning back to the serving girl, Jonas clothes his words with honeyed intent and asks "Nothing for now miss... but perhaps you might tell me who shares the common this day? We are recent to the town, and would like to greet them after we have taken our repast. You would be doing me a kindness..." smiling widely to show his teeth. To the girl it looks benign and kind, but to his companions they can see the touch of the predator.
The serving girl's eyes take a glazed over look to them, her mind seeming to look beyond as she responds to Bostarg's words. "Of course, Master Jonas. The three soldiers are Alcott, Clive and Ward. They're soldiers serving under Captain Mott at Balentyne. They usually gather on Sunday after there shifts. Clive and Linsey, one of the other serving girls, are a couple and usually meet after her shift. Alcott is shy around women, fun to tease. On his off days, he often works the smiths. He plans to retire and open his own shop someday. Ward says that one day he too shall become a Knight of the Allerion and his service on the Watch Wall is just to make a name for himself. He often wishes the bugbears to the north would try to attack just so he could prove himself.
"The man at the bar is Halvor Seavers, an old bard. Bellam lets him perform here every now and then. He's upset because he just learned that William Marcus Marlowe will be coming to town to perform 'The Fall of Amberlyn' for Lord Thomas Havelyn and the other soldiers in Balentyne. He believes it's ruined his own chances of ever performing for them at the fortress."
Her eyes refocus at Bostarg's touch. "Hmm? Ah, yes Master Jonas. Please don't hesitate if you need anything else." The serving girl curtsies as she leaves the room.
Tatya gives Aedorn a sour glance at his crude comment to the serving girl, either unpleased at the idea of sharing a room with a lecherous halfling or offended that he has never found her worthy of remarking on; possibly both.
After "Jonas" has dismissed the girl, she suggests, "A traveling performer with an invitation within the fortress? If he were to be waylaid and replaced...."
Aedorns eyes widen and he looks surprised, but swallows and nods at Bostarg. "I won't make any trouble."
Aedorn finds his eyes pulled to the serving girl's curvy waist and can't help but smile slightly as they walk up the stairs. After food is delivered he speaks up, smiling with a wry grin. "How can I get you on the menu?"
As Aedorn's words exit his mouth, a fire burns within Morthos at the foolishness of such. Managing to keep his calm, Morthos reminds himself the halfling is going to need to be spoken to.
"Indeed... an opportunity it is, words perhaps with Halvor it seems. Morthos, do you care to talk with the guards? I could manage both, but perhaps the soldiers would be more comfortable with one more of their stature? Given our conceit it would be useful to garner what Alcott knows of the smithys in town... particularly if any are working for Balentyne and there is an order to be delivered or paid for in the next week or two."
"I will handle the guards." Morthos states plainly.
As Bostarg leans Aedorn's direction, the gnome appearing to be saying something to him, Morthos catches Aedorn's reaction. Hearing the halfling's response, Morthos is confident Bostarg's speech had everything to do with the foolish actions of the halfling toward the serving girl, which puts him at ease on the issue.
Jonas takes a bowl of stew and sits, finishing a few bites before adding "It would be good to learn more of the night as well... perhaps while talk is made here some could walk and learn outside?"
"Yes. A good idea, Jonas. I shall look for this Alcott fool and see what information I can remove from him. Any of you who wish to accompany me, should ready to leave." Morthos then prepares to leave.
As Morthos gathers his things, "I shall return," he tells the others as he walks out the door and down to the common area.
As he makes his way down, he takes a look around the room, taking the scene in. Okay, Morthos, you're going to have to act like these simple folk. Remember those days? They always had a false kindness about them. I could see it miles away. It was sickening. Just be sickening, Morthos. Taking a deep breath, he moves to the bar where the man looks as if he's asleep. Raising a hand, "Innkeeper, a drink please." Pulling up a chair, he looks to the gentleman that appears passed out. "Is this fella alright, Innkeeper? It looks like he's either had too much to drink, or he's dead." He looks up at the bartender, grinning. "I'm only kiddin'. But," he glances at him then back at the innkeeper, "he is alright, isn't he?"
Bellam places a dark ale in front of you in response to the requested drink. As you mention Halvor by description, Bellam quickly gains a look of concern and tries to hush you, a finger at his lips. It seems to have been too late as the man suddenly uprights, waving his hand about and knocking his mostly empty glass to the floor. "Hush yershelf, Bellam. I'm not so drunk yet I can't defend my own self. Halvor Seavers, sir, and I drink because my career has come to an end."
Bellam rolls his eyes as he goes about mixing a drink. "Don't be so dramatic, Halvor. Here, drink this to help sober yourself up. Business will be picking up soon."
"Foul tasting brew." The man drinks the mixture despite his protests.
Terrick looks to the innkeeper and shrugs, figuring it best to leave the man alone. Taking a quick glance over at the three soldiers, Terrick quickly changes the subject. "You wouldn't happen to know of a good smithy in town, would you? It's been a long road for us and we're in need of some new equipment. It gets brutal out there sometimes, let me tell ya."
"Well, I can recommend a few depending on what you're looking for. Lucan over on Maple road specializes in blades of all sorts and sizes, and he charges a fair price for travelers. Durn Cleves just down the street from Lucan prefers bludgeons. Y'know, maces, morningstars, warhammers, that kind of thing. Durn's pa across the street does both, but his prices are quite a bit higher. Higher quality weapons though.
"Now if you're looking for armors, Reginald three streets over to the east would be your best bet for heavier armors. Near the market you've got Brie's shop. She's pretty skilled when it comes to chain linked armors. She has a bunch of leathers she studs as well.
"Now for them smaller fellas, there's Iron Flint. He's a dwarf smith, runs a shop near Brie's. Well, his sons run the shop I should say, he keeps his smithy in the dwarven side of town, works from there. Prefers his own kinda to most of us humans, and halflings better than us too."
He turns his head in thought. "Now if you're looking for some patch jobs, Alcott over there does some work in his off time. He's still pretty new to the trade so wouldn't trust his manufacturing quite yet, but he's coming along quite good. Give him another couple years and he'll be making it big."
"Well that'll sure help us out greatly," he smiles at the man. "Thank you, good sir! I'm gonna check on that now." He glances over to where he mentioned Alcott. Lowering his voice, "You know, I think I might give that young fella a shot. Who knows? He may surprise us all," he says with a wink, grinning. Nodding in thanks, he makes his way there to make the guards acquaintance.
"Morning, gentlemen. Or afternoon, I guess. Name's Terrick. We just showed up a little earlier today. Word is one of you is an up and coming smithy." He looks to each one individually. "Now I need to know which one of you is Alcott? Hm? And I know one of you is Alcott because the Innkeeper told me so. Now don't be shy, this is no time for modesty," he says, grinning.
Aedorn's eyes follow the gnome as he leaves, then glances over at Tatya. Laughing nervously, he shrugs. "I honestly didn't see that coming. Who would've thought a bunch of hardened warriors like them would be such prudes? It's not like having a bit of fun with the local help would endanger our mission - if anything, it'd just establish us as normal folk with normal desires. I understand not wanting to draw undue attention, but I wasn't gonna hurt the lass!"
Soldiers
As Terrick comes over the three stop drinking and give the man a look. In response to his question, one of the soldiers looks to his fellows, a questioning look on his face, when another speaks up. "This one here's Alcott, friend. And just to introduce the rest of us, my name's Clive and that's Ward. Looking for some cheap work, because if so y'might want to look elsewhere. Alcott's skills are top notch despite He emphasizes the last part, giving Bellam a look, which the innkeeper ignores. "Have a seat and tell us what you need."
Alcott finally speaks up, "Yes, please. Take a seat, I'd like to hear what you need a smith for."
Halvor
Halvor sits for a moment as the halfling comes up, humming a piece of Sarrit's third opera, The Winter's Weave, a tale of a soldier who travels through the bugbear infested lands to retrieve winterthread from the Ice Elves for the seamstress he loves.
Halfway through, Halvor joins in with Jonas, humming in tune. As the refrain comes to an end, Halvor sighs aloud. "Now that would be a fine opera to bring to Balentyne. Much better than whatever that two-bit Marlowe could do. You have just made a friend this day, a friend by the name of Halvor Seavers. I do apologize but my worries stole my hearing when you and yours came. Perhaps you could enlighten me?"
Terrick nods, "Alcott, Clive, Ward, well met." He pulls a chair out and sits. "You know, just your basic type stuff. Well, maybe not too basic. Mayhap you have some higher quality armor for us, possibly weapons as well? We're doing okay now, but it's been a while since we've looked into better equipment. So I was thinking now might be a good time to look into purchasing a bit extra, while we have a chance. You know, when you travel from place to place, you never know how long it might take before you cross another town that has decent enough equipment. Better safe than sorry and all that. Plus, I'd hate to be caught with a weapon that busted on me in the middle of a fight, know what I mean?" He grins.
Aedorn's eyes follow the gnome as he leaves, then glances over at Tatya. Laughing nervously, he shrugs. "I honestly didn't see that coming. Who would've thought a bunch of hardened warriors like them would be such prudes? It's not like having a bit of fun with the local help would endanger our mission - if anything, it'd just establish us as normal folk with normal desires. I understand not wanting to draw undue attention, but I wasn't gonna hurt the lass!"
Tatya gives the halfling a brittle smile. "Undoubtedly. But unless you are inviting her in for a chat about justice and valor, it is hardly something you would do in the company of a priestess of the Inheritor. Sneaking away and hiring the attentions of a professional, on the other hand, is precisely the kind of hypocrisy one might expect of a respectable templegoer. Do try to look conflicted afterwards."
Soldiers
Alcott stammers a bit as he speaks. "Um, well, I'm not really that good, but uh, I could introduce you to my teacher. He's, uh, pretty good at making stuff."
Clive elbows him in the side, "Okay, no. You're better than you keep saying. Don't let him fool you, Terrick. This guy knows his stuff. If he'd just admit it, he'd be forging stuff for me and Ward, right?" Ward nods. "So Alcott, why don't you take him down to Lucan's shop and show him some of your wares. Well, unless it's armor, he studies that craft under Reginald."
Alcott, who's been looking red in the face at Clive's words, speaks up again, "Um, I do have a couple pieces I've crafted. If you'd like, I could show them to you. Or craft you something custom if you want, or try to craft it."
Halvor
"A refilled glass would be a remarkable occurrence..." Bellam shoots Halvor a look, "...but it seems you'll have to convince the innkeeper to serve me another. An opera, now that would be a feat, a production to put to shame whatever hack job that Marlowe may attempt to pander off. If I could only find some voices worthy in this town."
Aedorn laughs heartily. "True, I hadn't considered that. Ah well, I promised Bostarg anyway. I'll be more careful in your company."
Soldiers
Terrick looks to the young man, smiling. "Okay, I'd love to see 'em! I'll get back to you on the armor though. I'll have to speak to my fellow counterpart and see if he's in need of any. I don't think it's too important at this time, though. Anyway, I'm more than willing to see what you've crafted, if you fellas are ready. If not, I could meet you there in a bit? It looks like you fellas are having a rest up, and no sense in me keeping you from it. Let me tell you, my friend, I completely understand that a break from a long days work is quite necessary. But, whatever's good for you fellas." He gives them a reassuring look that it would be fine no matter what they decide.
Soldiers
A grin comes across Alcott's face, "S-sure, yea, we can. Um, how about now? Shall we?" He looks to the others for confirmation. Clive passes a glance to one of the serving girls, who flashes him back a smile.
"Uh, why don't you two head along. Looks like Bellam might not miss Linsey for a bit, if you catch my meaning." He grins as he gets up and heads back towards the kitchen, watching as Bellam serves drinks to Jonas and Halvor.
Alcott turns to Ward. "Guess it's the three of us?"
Ward stands up, dropping a few coins on the table. "Guess so. Lead on."
Halvor
Halvor can't help but chuckle as you mention Marlowe's name. "Surly there is no great proof of the Inheritor's will than those very words, my friend Jonas. To think that one so cultured as yourself does not know the famous Bard of Barrington. You, my friend, are truly the greatest gift this man seen in a very long time. Name any song, any tale, I shall perform it no matter what Bellam says." The innkeeper only snorts as he turns away.
"Margoleine" removes the tiny wicker cage that houses Tatya's familiar from a pocket and lays it down on the table. Seeming to draw breath a little more easily with the scorpion not physically on her person, she sighs and glances out the window down onto the street of the village. "What do you suppose they are doing down there, mingling with the sheep?" she asks Aedorn and Alazandaru. "Why are we wasting time here? Our goal is Balentyne."
Nodding, "Well all right, I guess it's settled then. I'll follow. And I promise I won't keep you long; that way you can get back to enjoying your time off," he tells them, grinning, as he gets up and moves out of the way so as to let them take the lead.
Halvor
"Alas, you are correct. What has pained me is the gall he displays, the very nerve, to come to this town, where my own talents surly suffice to satisfy the populace, and wishes to portray whatever production he believes the people of this town will stomach."
His voice becomes louder, more affirmed of his words, "But no, that is only the beginning. What has truly upset me, you would like to know? When I found out the 'Great Bard' is coming, I sent him a letter to offer my services. I mean, I know this town, my experience is worth ten of that fool. But what did he say? He offered to let me show him my skills! What nerve!
"Well, when William Marcus Marlowe comes, I'll take his offer and show him what a true performer is. Then he shall regret what he has tossed aside." Halvor lets out a deep breath, his tirade over. "And that is why I drink today." Halvor finishes the drink brough to him by Bellam.
Soldiers
Alcott and Ward lead you over to Lucan's shop, a two story stone building, the top clearly a living residence. The walls are covered in an assortment of blades, from shortswords to longswords, scimitars to falchions, daggers to greatswords. The only thing in the building without a sharp edge is the man behind the counter, a middle-aged powerfully built man. "Greetings sir...ah, Alcott. What have you brought today?"
"Ah, um, Master Lucan. This man, he, um, would like to see some of, uh, my works. If that's okay sir."
Lucan listens to Alcott as he stammers on, finally giving a bellowing laugh. "That's my apprentice, coming to steal work from me in my own shop!" Alcott turns bright red at the last statement, "No no, don't be like that. You've given me a great deal of help. If you wish to see Alcott's works, please be my guest. They're out back by the smithy."
Alcott leads you out the back door to the smithy behind the building, where the forge sits, looking to be cooling from a day's work. Inside lies several half-finished blades, several lumps of iron, and other assorted tools for the crafting of weapons. A stack in the corner are the works of Alcott, all of normal quality. A pair of longswords, a shortsword, a few daggers and a half-finished rapier. None of the weapons are of any exceptional quality, but appear sturdy enough to be effective.
The only other thing of note in this room is a display on the wall covered by a cloth.
Soldiers
As he notices the assortment of weapons, Terrick takes in the numerous amount of them.
Making their way out back and to the weapons, Terrick inspects them closely. "These aren't bad, my friend. Not bad at all. I'll admit, they're not quite what I'm looking for, but you got potential. You really do." Seeing a bit of discouragement on the young man's face, Terrick crosses his arms and attempts to relate to him. "Now I got to say, just from the short time I've know you, I would gather you're not to confident in your ability. Forgive me if I'm wrong. But you know what, there was a time I myself was just like you. I had nothing. I grew up with nothing. Now look where I am. Huh? Not bad, eh?" He backs up a step, arms out, showing himself off. "We all gotta start somewhere, my young friend. It's just gonna be up to you how far you want to go. And who knows where that'll lead?" He shrugs, smiling.
"I will say, I'm impressed with the amount of weapons you and Master Lucan have crafted. And from what the bartender was telling me, there are several more smithy's around here? That's a lot of smithy's for one small town. I'd say you folks have enough to equip an entire army!" He smiles.
Then, as he notices the covered up display, a curious look forms. "Now, you wouldn't mind me asking what that cloth is covering, would you? If it's a personal issue, then by all means just say so. It's just a curiosity thing, nothing more. Absolutely not important if you'd rather not share."
Halvor
"He is to perform on the 7th of Gozren, a Starday with most of the garrison in occupance. Going to be a slow market day in town, what with all the soldiers up at Balentyne at the show. What day did he say to expect him, Bellam?"
The innkeeper turns back, "Marlowe? His letter said to have his room ready on the 29th of Pharast."
"An entire week to prepare? Bah, I could've done it in half the time."
Soldiers
Alcott looks down, a smile on his face as he rubs the back of his head, obviously pleased at the compliment. Ward instead speaks up, "Yes, we do have quite a few smiths in town. While we aren't in danger of any bugbear assault, it's nevertheless best to be prepared. Plus there are 'adventurers' who think it's worthwhile to antagonize them by looking for trouble. They do bring money into town before they go get themselves killed though, I guess."
"Ward, y'know some of them are good ones."
"Yea yea, the 'society'" The last he says with a sneer. "Bunch of rogues and troublemakers hiding behind a supposedly organized facade. Still glad they don't have one of their lodges here."
Alcott throws up his hands in exasperation, obviously a common disagreement between the two.
When Terrick mentions the sword, Ward's scowl grows even deeper. "What's under that cloth should be buried even deeper, like underneath a mountain. Or a volcano."
Alcott doesn't disagree with his friend, but he finally starts to speak without his stammer, "That's a trophy from Lucan's grandfather. You see, during the Asmodean purges there was a group of them in town. Lucan's grandfather was a soldier himself, and he lead the group to wipe out the last of them. Inside that case is the sword the leader wielded. It's a foul blade to be sure, but Lucan's grandfather had it mounted on the wall of the shop up until Lord Havelyn took charge of Balentyne. He came into the shop and saw the blade, demanded it be melted down. The two argued for near an hour I heard, until finally Lucan's grandfather agreed to lock the blade away. Which is why it's back here." Alcott moves over and removes the cloth, displaying a wood and glass case inside which is a long blade, a bastard sword in size. The blade is nicked and dented, it's edge long gone. The crossguard ends in twin symbols of Asmodeus, a third at the pommel. Three blood red rubies lie in the blade towards the hilt, with three serrated edges in the blade itself. The blade itself seems to be stained a red, as though blood has long dried.
Alcott leaves it uncovered only a moment before returning the cloth. "A frightful thing that."