Dunganagar looks down at the brooch in dismay.
"Melt away? But..."
What good is a piece of silver if you can't spend it?
He shakes his head in disgust.
"Och, whatever. So we need to go to this Keep to find out more, is that it? We already marched for two weeks to get here."
"Well tha same goes for you, Mister Courtland. If you are no' actin' in good faith here, and this is a cheap attempt to press-gang a bunch of men inta tha army without committing yerself to a wage for them, well I'll consider that due cause to consider any agreement null and void. In which case the Baroness' men had better not bar my way. Nay, they'd better not."
"Deal?"
So no families to help out and no wages to speak of, just these bounties. Things didn't sound too promising.
Pinto spoke up, "The dwarf Bob here is right. What are we supposed to live on before these bounties? Will the fort pay for our room and board?"
Eina's smile turns to a frown as first the scrolls and then the contract she would have to sign are brought up. The look on her face is the same one a child might have if someone had told them their puppy had just died.
"I... I do not know your runes," she says sheepishly if anyone asks her what's wrong. "Is that a problem for those who would accept this call?"
Eina's smile turns to a frown as first the scrolls and then the contract she would have to sign are brought up.
"Och, whatever. So we need to go to this Keep to find out more, is that it? We already marched for two weeks to get here."
"Well tha same goes for you, Mister Courtland. If you are no' actin' in good faith here, and this is a cheap attempt to press-gang a bunch of men inta tha army without committing yerself to a wage for them, well I'll consider that due cause to consider any agreement null and void. In which case the Baroness' men had better not bar my way. Nay, they'd better not."
"Deal?"
Pinto spoke up, "The dwarf Bob here is right. What are we supposed to live on before these bounties? Will the fort pay for our room and board?"
Cortland looked amused and slightly disappointed all at once. He paused briefly, pondering his next words carefully.
"Gentlemen. It seems that you missing the forest for the trees. You are not being offered 'wages' or 'room and board.' Such forms of reimbursement are for common laborers. You are being offered an opportunity that befits heroes and red-blooded adventurers.""The keep will provide you a home base for your operations but it will not be a boarding house free of charge. You will be expected to pay for your accommodations and goods as you would anywhere else. A certain amount of initiative is expected on your part. From this home of operations you will find enemies who's body parts will earn you more pay than most common folk make in a year."
"The borderlands boasted some of the most verdant and plentiful patches of white ironwood ever before seen. Decades ago there was a mine with veins of mithral and the purest iron thick as that dwarf's arm, and it stands to reason it is still there waiting to be relieved of its resources. The keep was once the hub of trade for these materials and there was a profound amount of money trading hands by those who lived in the lands near the keep. As those lands were retaken by wicked races, it also stands to reason that these stolen monies are still there, waiting to be reclaimed from the limp hands of evil."
"Every route you secure, every mine you reopen, ever accomplishment you can prove will net you status, monetary rewards, and one notch closer to title. If you are not cut from the cloth I believe you are, then I suggest you enjoy another cider and head back home. If glory and gold are still what you seek, you are in the right place."
He ended his speech with a straight face, though softened with a disarming twinkle in his eye.
Eina takes a look at the scroll and is unable to make heads or tails of it. Her smile fades as she sees that it's written in the language used throughout the lands she'd been traveling these past several months. She'd learned to read and write, but in the language of her people. These people used different runes and the words on the scroll may as well be an arcane spell for all she could make of it.
Anyone looking in her direction would notice the frustrated, crestfallen expression on Eina's face as she glared at the scroll, hardly paying attention to the conversation around her.
Brandt takes the time to read out the scroll word by word for Eina. Getting her started on the new runes.
He signs the contract after reading through it carefully himself. "That is why I'm here, to defeat monsters and open the lands to settlers. I don't see any problems with these terms."
"Thank you." Eina's cheeks burn as Brandt reads to her like a child, but she begins to pick up on things fairly quickly.
"Is this how you make agreements here," she asks as she watches Brandt make a mark on the parchment.
"Gentlemen. It seems that you missing the forest for the trees. You are not being offered 'wages' or 'room and board.' Such forms of reimbursement are for common laborers. You are being offered an opportunity that befits heroes and red-blooded adventurers."...
"I dinnae need any 'room and board.' I can live off tha land well enough, thank ye. Though I do fancy a pot a' ale now and then - ne'er did learn how ta make that meself."
"But Mister Courtland, you'll forgive me for sayin' so, but it doesn't sound like we're bein' offered anythin' at all that we couldn't just take for ourselves. Anyone can tell you to help yourself to someone else's gold, but for them to think they're doin' you a favor by sayin' so is another thing altogether. And you're not even sayin that ye know that these monsters have treasure, just that they probably do. If it turns out that they don't, I doubt ye'll be makin' up the shortfall."
"These wild lands belong to no one and we certainly don't need Baroness Hellbane's permission to rove there. She can call it her land when she has the men to control it, but if she had 'em we wouldn't be here."
"Now you mentioned bounties for dead goblins and such, and that sounds more like a kind of a wage. I've done that kind o' work before and it can turn out good. But the fact that you refuse to tell us how much that bounty is makes me think we'll slay a pile o' goblins and then find out the bounty is a copper piece a head. Ye'd have to be daft to risk life and limb for a few coppers. I could earn a better livin' than tha' just from huntin' and sellin' the skins."
"You say you want to make a contract. Tha's fine. But a contract needs to give both parties somethin', or it's nae a contract at all. Right now all your contract seems to say is that we must do this and behave thusly and in exchange you agree not to take a percentage of what we earn on our own with no help from you... at first. Meanin' you will take a percentage later on, e'en if you did nothin' to earn it."
"I hope you can see why such a contract does not impress me."
Eina's eyes narrow dangerously at the mention of goblins. By the end of Dunganagar's rant, she's almost glaring at him. Hearing the excitement in Erodin's voice, however, causes her own to rekindle.
"I cannot decide between calling ourselves the Fluffy Bunnies of Sowell's Orchard or Dunganagar's Warpups," she jokes before turning her attention to the Baroness' representatives. "I will join this cause, Courtland of Hellbane. What must I do to enter this pact," she asks.
"How about we call ourselves 'The varied reasons.' Or 'The Golden dawn'. And leave it at that." Brandt suggests, barely hiding a shudder at Eina's suggestions.
Eina gives a snicker as she feels more than sees Brandt's shudder.
"If we are truly naming ourselves, I would like us to be called the Ravens of the Wandering Winds," she replies more seriously.
"How about the 'Suicidal Fools?'" Dunganagar grumps.
"How about 'The Golden rule'?" Brandt comes back with half seriously.
While the naming goes back and forth, Pinto just groans, children
He turned to Courtland again, "I think dwarf Bob here has the right of it. What happens if the bounty is not worth it or worse still if there are no bounties to be claimed. What then?"
He shook his head, "I mean hell, what if we get snowed in for a few weeks. Do we get no pay? Do we just lounge around doing nothing?"
He concluded, "Don't get me wrong, I'm all for payment based on results but I need some sort of minimum if those results are not coming due to no fault of our own."
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"Is this how you make agreements here," she asks as she watches Brandt make a mark on the parchment.
"You say you want to make a contract. Tha's fine. But a contract needs to give both parties somethin', or...
Cortland reached over, gently staying Eina's hand.
"There is no need to sign or mark. There is nothing more than a verbal contract here, with 'contract' used in the loosest context. You can change your mind tomorrow and walk away with no repercussions.""I will join this cause, Courtland of Hellbane. What must I do to enter this pact," she asks.
"I would venture to say that 'pact' is still too strong a term in our scenario. We are simply laying before you a tract of land; it is up to you how much you decide to plow, sow, and reap. There are not specific terms for gaining title because no such terms are yet predictable, though it is certain that those who's deeds have the greatest impact on the land shall be rewarded lavishly."
"But Mister Courtland, you'll forgive me for sayin' so, but it doesn't sound like we're bein' offered anythin' at all that we couldn't just take for ourselves. Anyone can tell you to help yourself to someone else's gold, but for them to think they're doin' you a favor by sayin' so is another thing altogether. And you're not even sayin that ye know that these monsters have treasure, just that they probably do. If it turns out that they don't, I doubt ye'll be makin' up the shortfall."
"These wild lands belong to no one and we certainly don't need Baroness Hellbane's permission to rove there. She can call it her land when she has the men to control it, but if she had 'em we wouldn't be here."
"Now you mentioned bounties for dead goblins and such, and that sounds more like a kind of a wage. I've done that kind o' work before and it can turn out good. But the fact that you refuse to tell us how much that bounty is makes me think we'll slay a pile o' goblins and then find out the bounty is a copper piece a head. Ye'd have to be daft to risk life and limb for a few coppers. I could earn a better livin' than tha' just from huntin' and sellin' the skins."
"You say you want to make a contract. Tha's fine. But a contract needs to give both parties somethin', or...
While the naming goes back and forth, Pinto just groans, children
He turned to Courtland again, "I think dwarf Bob here has the right of it. What happens if the bounty is not worth it or worse still if there are no bounties to be claimed. What then?"
He shook his head, "I mean hell, what if we get snowed in for a few weeks. Do we get no pay? Do we just lounge around doing nothing?"
He concluded, "Don't get me wrong, I'm all for payment based on results but I need some sort of minimum if those results are not coming due to no fault of our own."
"Allow me to set the record straight. The borderlands have been claimed by the Baroness. There is no question as to whether the land will become under control. It is a matter of time only. In that time strange rogues roaming the land in search of fortune would certainly be considered outlaws alongside the brigands and wicked folk that already roam there. Your notion of free rein with or without permission is incorrect."
"Good men, you are pragmatic and cautious, but you are letting your caution plug your ears from the words I have spoken. You would not receive 'coppers' for bounties, but gold. I cannot provide you with the details of such bounties because I do not write the warrants. Only the keep's captain and paymaster may do such things as they are the only ones privy to the situation at hand. If they deem that bandits are the problem du jour, they will increase the bounty on bandits. If the following day goblins rear their ugly teeth-ridden heads, then the bounty on goblin ears will go up."
"As to taxes, well I am afraid that taxes are a fact of life that can't be avoided. This is the cost we all pay to have access to the benefits of society at large, and in this case collections go to fund the keep which will protect you from harm."
"As to the weather and being snowed in; the keep will be provisioned to care for those inside of it. In such an emergency you would be taken care of. It is of no concern."
"As to the 'contract'...perhaps I should not have used that word as it implies specific terms. I meant it in a more figurative sense, in that if you do your part, you will receive at a minimum monetary rewards as the paymaster sees fit, but with a potential for much more."
"Do you understand the heights of luxury that a Lord enjoys? Do you yet underestimate the value of tracts of land in your name that can be passed down to your progeny? This is no small opportunity, and yet your concerns lie with marginal bothers like taxes and wages."
"Yes gentlemen, there will be risk. We are not ushering you along a paved road lined with sweet flowers toward your free lunch. There is fortune and glory out there, but it must be earned. If such notions make you squeamish, I suggest you turn back to wherever it is you come from. Rest assured that someone else will not let this opportunity slip through their fingers."
Pinto smirked when he was once again told about Lords and riches and glory and progeny (?). Well, he wasn't really sure what that last thing meant but he was sure it was something in the same vein.
A practical man, he breathed deeply before answering, "Maybe I'm not making myself clear. It is not that I lack faith in my abilities to earn a living. Hell, I made it this far without a Lord."
He looked about, "It's the potential lack of work, lack of bounties that concern me. If you can give me reasonable assurance that there will be plenty of work then I'm ready to go right now."
He added, "And by work I mean just about anything. I can make a living hunting or trapping; four-legged and two-legged vermin makes little difference to me."
-------
<<Your customs are strange and make no sense,>> Eina mutters in her native tongue when she hears that the Baroness was giving out tokens and promising land, treasure, and status without an oath from those she was giving them to.
After she takes the medallion and the scroll, the conversation turns to the name of their company. She nods enthusiastically at Erodin’s suggestion, and smiles behind her mug of cider as Taecuss seconds it.
”I do not like only ravens. I like any birds that take wing on the winds. The Silver Ravens sings well in my ears, but if we are to be hunters of goblins, I would think the Silver Hawks sings more sweetly still,” she says before turning to Pinto.
”The wilds are a dangerous place for the unwary and unprepared. There are men and monsters willing enough to take the lives of those they think weaker. They hide at the edges, like wolves hunting prey. I would not worry over your bounties and work. There will be more than we can handle I am certain,” she says, a small, mysterious smile on her face as she looks at him, amusement glittering in her half-lidded eyes. ”Save your worries for the road, I say. Tonight, we drink and feast! May our songs sound as thunder to our foes,” She raises her mug in a toast, again standing to be able to clink her mug with those who join in.
"Sounds like Brandt here likes shiny things, while Eina likes ravens. How about we call ourselves the Silver Ravens? I'm sure that's a name that nobody has ever come up with before. It would make for a decent-looking flag or coat of arms, too." Erodin looked around to gauge the reaction of his fellows.
"What the hell do we need a name for? How about 'The Silly Birds What Keep Squawkin'?'"
He looked about, "It's the potential lack of work, lack of bounties that concern me. If you can give me reasonable assurance that there will be plenty of work then I'm ready to go right now."
The nobleman took a sip from his mug, then another, his eyes never leaving Pinto's gaze. He tugged smartly at his mustache with a sidelong glance at one the soldiers he sat with. She returned his look with only the slightest inclination of her head, maintaining her soldierly composure and indifference. Turning back to Pinto he offered with a smile,
"I can do better than reasonable assurance. I give you a guarantee on my honor that you will find an abundance of work.""Our scouts have returned with reports of ravenous man-eating goblins, spider-riding grumpkins, ice kobolds, strange beastmen, ghoulish walking dead, swamp lizardfolk,"
Cortland glanced left and right, then drew his head closer to the six travelers, saying a whisper -
"there are even reports of a frost dragon hunting in the area."
----------
Cortland dipped his quill into his inkpot, and paused with the tip hovering over his book.
"Who's names shall I enter into my ledger?"
As Dunganagar opens his mouth again, Eina finds the constant gruffness wearing.
”Tell me Dunganagar, have you had too much too drink or not enough? Are we not supposed to be companions in arms? Have we somehow offended you,” she asks, a cold bite to her voice. ”All things have names, even groups like ours. I’d rather our name sing than be some dull thing picked by scholars with no songs in their souls.”
===
Eina smiles at Pinto as Courtland confirms what she had said.
”There is no need for being timid. We are hunters, and the goblin wretches will fear our coming,” she tells him.
===
When asked for her name, Eina ponders for a moment before saying, ”I am Eina of the Storm Ravens, Lorekeeper of the tribe.”
"Allow me to set the record straight. The borderlands have been claimed by the Baroness."
"Och. She claimed it, did she?" Dunganagar says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why didn't somebody tell me she had claimed it?"
"You nobles, you think you're just entitled to everything."
"So claiming something makes it yours, does it? In that case, I claim this here table you're sitting at and the chairs you're sitting on. That makes them mine, right? Never mind the woodcutter who felled the trees and the carpenter that turned them into furniture, and the good innkeeper here who paid for them out of coin that he earned. No, I claimed it, and that makes it mine. So now you will have to pay me taxes for sittin' in my chairs."
"Does that sound reasonable to you? Sane? In fact, I hereby claim the entire Free Realms of Mylosia. You can all call me Emperor, because I claimed it."
"Och, a claim is worthless. How many other barons claim these lands, eh? How many respect hers? A claim is just words, and talk is cheap."
"There is no question as to whether the land will become under control. It is a matter of time only. In that time strange rogues roaming the land in search of fortune would certainly be considered outlaws alongside the brigands and wicked folk that already roam there."
"No question? Hah. If there was no question, you would nae have called for us. And you talk of 'That Time' when the land is under your control... well that 'time' is hardly now, is it?"
"And there are plenty of barons who are no better than outlaws themselves. Robber barons. Don't tell me I'm wrong."
"Do you understand the heights of luxury that a Lord enjoys? Do you yet underestimate the value of tracts of land in your name that can be passed down to your progeny?"
"Och, I understand, all right. I've seen it. The peasants do back-breaking work just so the likes of you can wear silk underpants. Someone has to pay for all that luxury, you know. You get away with it, because the poor sods don't know how to fight and haven't figured that they don't need you, since everything you've achieved was actually done by them."
"If your 'paymaster' wants to pay me gold for choppin' off the heads of goblins, I'll take his money. But if this Baroness thinks she is entitled to what I earn, well, then we will have an interestin' conversation."
As Dunganagar opens his mouth again, Eina finds the constant gruffness wearing.... ”All things have names, even groups like ours. I’d rather our name sing than be some dull thing picked by scholars with no songs in their souls.”
"Don't you think it's a little premature to be thinking about fancy names and coats of arms? We haven't done anything yet. A true name is earned. And time will tell what name we deserve."
"Besides... I have no desire to be named after a cowardly carrion bird. Not how I care to be remembered."
"If we do end up with a name, it should have at least some relation to who we are. Have you heard the stories of 'The Knights of the Red Oak?' They were called tha' because they were knights, and they pledged their oath to each other beside a great red oak. Simple."
"A good name is like that."
He looked about, "It's the potential lack of work, lack of bounties that concern me. If you can give me reasonable assurance that there will be plenty of work then I'm ready to go right now."The nobleman took a sip from his mug, then another, his eyes never leaving Pinto's gaze. He tugged smartly at his mustache with a sidelong glance at one the soldiers he sat with. She returned his look with only the slightest inclination of her head, maintaining her soldierly composure and indifference. Turning back to Pinto he offered with a smile,
"I can do better than reasonable assurance. I give you a guarantee on my honor that you will find an abundance of work.""Our scouts have returned with reports of ravenous man-eating goblins, spider-riding grumpkins, ice kobolds, strange beastmen, ghoulish walking dead, swamp lizardfolk,"
Cortland glanced left and right, then drew his head closer to the six travelers, saying a whisper -
"there are even reports of a frost dragon hunting in the area."
Pinto was satisfied with the answer and nodded approvingly, "Well, that's good enough for me. You can go ahead and sign me up. The name's Pinto Donasetti."
He looked about, "Like I said before, I'm ready to continue my travels towards the keep."
Eina, obviously irritated by the dwarf, perks up as Erodin's comment gives her an idea. The grin on her face means trouble as she stands up. She heads for the bar and gets the barkeeper's attention.
"I have heard that some taverns have contests to see who can drink the most. Does this one have such a thing," she asks.
Brandt shrugs, even if two don't want to join there is still a good party ready to go. "Brandt Holgarson." He tells Cortland.
If the Chicken and vegetables are ready he sits down and starts seriously trying to fill the bottomless pit. 'Might as well be comfortable for the night.' He thinks and books a room, still having a few gold to spend. 'After this it's likely to be a lot less cozy.'
"Is there a room I may have for the night as well," she asks after Brandt comes up and asks after one for him.
In a quiet moment, Tae arranges to stay in the common room that night.
The barkeep leaned over toward the assembled group, replying to the elf,
"No arrangements necessary. There'll be plenty'a room on the floor. No full house tonight."
*snipped*
The nobleman maintained his composure after the harsh words about his Lady Baroness. He saw in the dwarf a fiery spirit, one who could be a valuable ally if his skill with an axe was comparable to his passion. He scribbled the names into his ledger -
-Taecuss dyn Bru-Eina of the Storm Ravens, Lorekeeper of the tribe
-Pinto Donasetti
-Erodin Stark
-Brandt Holgarson
Afterward his gaze fell upon the dwarf.
"You have your reservations strong warrior, but I assure you they are in vain. Lady Hellbane is a good soul and not the greedy monster you paint her to be. If you're half as good with that axe as you are with your mouth, then you'll be a rich man indeed in the coming season!"
He again paused with his quill poised above his book, awaiting the dwarf's answer.
Eina, obviously irritated by the dwarf, perks up as Erodin's comment gives her an idea. The grin on her face means trouble as she stands up. She heads for the bar and gets the barkeeper's attention.
"I have heard that some taverns have contests to see who can drink the most. Does this one have such a thing," she asks.
A pair of young people emerged from the kitchen laden with trays to carry the food. Steam rose from the chicken and mixed vegetables, as well as the bread - clearly fresh baked. Several cheers erupted from nearby tables where common farmers laugh with delight at the prospect of watching a drinking contest, with a dwarf no less. The barkeeps begin pouring ales, readying several horns for rapid consumption, with sizable smiles on their faces as well.
Eina decides that it might be a good idea to eat before her inevitable appointment with the floor. She quickly devours most of the vegetables and some of the chicken, planning to eat the rest on the morrow instead of her rations.
A few minutes after the food has been brought out, she nimbly hops onto the bar with a drinking horn in her hand.
”Noble people of Sowell’s Orchard, I beg your ears for a moment. The honor of my tribe has been smeared by the words of a dwarf. Dunganagar has called the sacred animal of the Storm Ravens nothing more than a craven carrion eater. I demand that he pay for this grave insult,” she says, her voice loud and clear and a smile on her face. She stands tall on the bar, well, as tall as she can when she’s an inch shy of five feet. She points an imperious finger at Dunganagar as she looks down her nose at him.
”I challenge you! Do you accept? Or, are you too afraid of a small wisp of a waif drinking you under the table,” she asks, her grin wide as she is obviously enjoying herself.
"If you're half as good with that axe as you are with your mouth..."
"It's your words doin' the paintin', mister Courtland, what you say and what you won't say."
"But you have my name, and I already told you I'll take your money for killin' goblins. What else do you want?"
If Courtland leaves it alone, Dunganagar turns back to the bar.
”I challenge you! Do you accept? Or, are you too afraid of a small wisp of a waif drinking you under the table,” she asks, her grin wide as she is obviously enjoying herself.
Dunganagar looks Eina up and down, rather mystified.
"Och, lass, I don't think I hae anythin' to fear on tha' score, e'en if I take two drinks ta yer one. I could use a good drunk right now, but I only have ten pieces o' silver left after my journey, and it may take more than tha' to get me there. Unless we say... loser pays?" Dunganagar grins.
"I'm also a wee bit hungry after that long march, and it would be nice to get somethin' hot for a change." He pulls a silver coin out of his pocket, and turns to the barkeep. "Let' me ha' a bit o' that stew, will ya? Matter o' fact... make it two bowls. I'm famished."
Pinto, satisfied that his doubts were no longer a concern, decided to enjoy the rest of his evening.
He smirked as the young and foolish set up a drinking game but decided to just watch. he was way too old for drinking games and his battered body did not need any more abuse.
Seeing as everyone was enjoying themselves, he took out a gold coin and tossed on the dwarf while joking with the girl, "I don't mean any disrespect lass but I'll be very surprised if you outdrink a loud dwarf."
Dunganagar begins drinking with Eina (and whoever else is joining them).
Dunganagar starts to relate anecdotes from his life as a mercenary. At first he is fairly circumspect, sticking to amusing stories, but as the night wears on he becomes more maudlin.
"So this Baron comes... *urp* ...and hires us Black Iron Brothers ta assist in an attack on his enemy. Baron Kemlas of Dunwater Keep. So he said. We took the job."
"We went in first, and the Baron's troops were meant to reinforce us at dawn. We did our job all righ', but the bloody baron ne'er showed! We held on for three days with no supplies. But it was nary supposed ta be a siege, and we couldn't hold out. So we surrendered."
Dunganagar leans back and accidentally knocks over the stool next to him.
"Oops, sorry." Unsteadily he rights the stool again.
"Now in war there's supposed ta be certain rules about prisoners. You don't just start killin' mercenaries that you capture, because you may need to hire mercenaries later. You may not like 'em, but no laird has enough men for every circumstance."
"But Baron Phyran of Eigershire *hic* ('scuse me) won't listen to that. He insists that this was no act o' war, just banditry. We tell him we were hired by 'is enemy Baron Kemlas. But when Baron Kemlas arives, it's not the same man! The real Baron Kemlas is nearly eighty and can't walk without 'is cane! And he don't have no sons either so it canna' have been a son acting for the father."
"So we get sentenced to death, because one noble decided to trick us into a false job, and another noble wouldn't honor the conventions of war! O' course we made a break for it, bu' only five o' us made it oot."
Dunganagar pounds the table with his fist, and glasses and mugs jump.
"Five! Can you imagine? The mighty Black Iron Brethren, reduced to only five out o' a hundred, and the five livin' all fugitives. I don' know why I managed to live when so many o' me friends died. Many a time I think I'd ha' rather died to save me friends."
He drains his mug of plain ale and thunks it down on the counter, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"Tha's how I know, lass. Nobles - ye canna' trust 'em."
He leans back, and with a burp, calls over his shoulder. "*urp* NAE, YE CANNA' TRUST NOBLES!"
"Now here I am... takin' their silver again. Ye'd think I'd ha' learned by now, that I'd know better."
Suddenly a moment of clarity strikes Dunganagar like a sling stone in the in the back of the head. He looks up, eyes wide.
"I do know better! What was I thinkin' comin' here? Take another noble's pay and just trust to luck?"
He lurches unsteadily to his feet.
"NEVER AGAIN!" he shouts. He pulls out the little silver medallion, and hulrs it across the room. He probably intends to throw it at Courtland, but it lands under a table three stalls over. "Here's your Badge, Mister Courtland! You can take your job and stuff it!"
He dumps a handful of silver coins on the counter, and they go spinning madly across the bar. "Thanks for the drinks, barkeep! Nice place."
He stumbles out the door and is gone. After a few moments, you can hear a shout in the distance.
"OPEN THE GATES, FOR GORUM'S SAKE! I WANT TO GE' OUT O' HERE!"
And then there is silence.
Exeunt.
Eina enters into the contest with more gusto than sense, shouting, before downing her first drink with aplomb. After a few drinks, she was a little tipsy. By the time Dunganagar was feeling tipsy, she had to sit down. Half a mug later, she was out cold. She was half-sprawled on the table rather than under it, one of her arms she was using as a pillow and the other was stretched out, that hand holding the half-finished tankard. Well, at least until someone grabbed it and finished it off.
She stirs as Dunganagar begins to raise his voice, and by the time he’s shouting, she’s looking about with bleary eyes that just can’t seem to focus. She sees him storm out and mutters in her native tongue, <<I thought he’d be happy he won.>>
She gets to her feet and wobbles her way to the rooms. It takes her a few tries, and walking in on a couple in the middle of something better left private, before she finds her room. Some stumbling about and getting tangled in some of her clothes later, she collapses on the bed and falls asleep.
===
The next morning, the crowing of a rooster that has the audacity to perch just outside of her window wakes her. Her head feels like an ogre had been banging on it from the inside, the racket the rooster makes is like a goblin trying to pry her skull open.
She shuffles into the tavern after getting dressed and throwing every curse she knows at the insufferable fowl. Her hair’s a mess and there are dark circles under her eyes. She sits at the bar and cradles her head with a groan.
”Top o’ tha marnin’ ta ya! What’ll it be fer breakfast,” the disgustingly cheerful barkeep asks.
Eina glares at the man, her voice cold and dark as she answers.
”Find that hellspawned cock that was crowing outside the window to my room and bake him into a pie,” she growls softly, her head throbbing with each beat of her heart. Her voice returns to something more like normal as also begs the barkeep, ”and please do not yell. My head feels like there is an angry storm inside of it.”
The nobleman and his two soldier guards watched the departing Dunganagar, or "Bob", or whatever his real name was, as he left the inn and walked out into the night.
"He was a man of his principles, I'll give him that."
He shook his head, sorry to see such a powerful warrior leave when they needed him so badly, but then returned his gaze with a smile to the five remaining adventurers. With another tug at his mustache he offered,
"You are embarking on a new chapter of your lives. This will be the adventure you speak of to your grandchildren, repeated over campfires for generations to come."
"Everyone hold your badge forth and speak the word veritas."
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The fun and rowdy atmosphere of the room deflated after the blustering dwarf made his exit. The drinking contest was good-natured and seemed to force smiles upon the entirety of those visiting the inn that night. Most of the villagers had backed him as their champion, playing the stereotypical odds against the small upstart barbarian woman. By the time Dunganagar left it was well into the evening, likely past midnight, time for everyone to find a few hours rest before the labors of morning came knocking.
(muffled, outside) knock knock knock, tink tink tink
The sounds of hammers and clanking wood carried on throughout the evening, a constant reminder of those making repairs to the village's perimeter wall. Apparently the laborers working on the wall planned on working well into the night, even as the drinking locals were readying themselves to depart the Sword and Cider and go back to their homes.
It was difficult to make out but sounds of battle suddenly intermingled with the noise of the laborers outside. A lantern shattering against something solid, the sound of men barking harsh orders, a muffled gurgle as a sword silenced someone's death cry - something dreadful was going on outside.
Not fully sure of his new role, the old man took out his badge and pronounced himself in a half-mumble, "Veritas."
He then as ked one of his new companions, "So what does veritas mean? is't not some oath to a hell-born or anything like that, is it?"
tag?
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It was almost time to grab some rest, definitely past his normal bedtime. Pinto had grown accustomed to getting up earlier and earlier as his life went on.
He waited until the local folk left the place before inquiring on his sleeping accommodations. Peaches was already curled up in front of the fireplace and Pinto did not want to wake up the grumpy dog.
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, nope, nada
Eina is dragged from where she was heading to her room and pulled into line. She blinks, trying to focus on Courtland as he speaks, and sways as the room spins about her. She fumbles for the badge she’d been given and holds it up, using the opposite hand from everyone else. She switches hands, almost dropping the badge in the process. After a moment, she blinks again and tries to give the oath.
”Feri- Furry- M-M- <<No, that’s not right either.>> Veritas,” she slurs after a few tries. She grins, happy to have gotten the oath out without too much trouble, but her alcohol hazed mind was being rather insistent that she find her room now.
”Which way to the rooms? I think I might have gotten a little lost,” she says, slowly turning in place as she tries to find the way to where her room is.
”Outside, now! We are attacked!”
The sleepy, drunken grin that had been on Eina’s face disappears and she frowns at the elf.
”Are you sure that it is not Thud? He can- *hic* He can get a bit ornery some- *urp* sometimes,” she mutters, her face turning green.
<<Oh no, I think I’m gonna puke!>>
Pinto is instantly ready and even Peaches has woken up and is growling, "Easy boy. It's probably the horses spooked or something or may be one of the locals too drunk to find his way home."
Nonetheless, the man makes sure his handaxe is within easy reach and follows the others.
He stopped for a second and addressed the drunk woman, "Maybe you ought stay inside..."
”Who shaysh I cannot shta-*hic*-schtand?! I can schtand well eeeeeenough,” Eina replies as she sways drunkenly after the others. ”I do not need to schtand an- *hic* -anyway.”
A blue-white spark dances on her fingers for a moment before it jumps with a pop like a miniature thunderclap and Pinto’s weapon begins to glow as if it was made out of relatively dim lightning.
”You cannot shee in thhhhhe dark, I *hic* bet. I can help without having to ffffffight,” she adds with a laugh. She still looks green, but the grin’s back.
Brandt says "Veritas." When prompted.
He enjoyed his meal, but didn't drink heavily, watching in concern as Eina got herself hopelessly drunk against the Dwarf.
Rising to his feet and strapping on his shield when Taecuss called a warning. He made sure to move ahead of Eina when heading out the door.
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Erodin spoke the magic word which was followed immediately by Cortland uttering the same word -- "Veritas." The bronze and silver badge gave off a brief flash of light, then returned to its mundane appearance.
Not fully sure of his new role, the old man took out his badge and pronounced himself in a half-mumble, "Veritas."
He then asked one of his new companions, "So what does veritas mean? is't not some oath to a hell-born or anything like that, is it?"
Just as before with Erodin, Cortland followed Pinto's single word with his own copy - "Veritas," followed by an expected flash. He then smiled at the man's caution.
"No sir, it is a charm that seals the badge to you, requiring both of us to complete the enchantment. The brooch will quite literally melt away if someone or something steals it from you, thus preventing illegitimate usage of the station it provides."The same magic words were exchanged with Eina and then Brandt shortly thereafter, each with their own badges of office flashing momentarily.
This magic badge is worn by those operating for the good of the peoples under Baroness Hellbane's rule, specifically to designate those who act with the authority of law within the region of the "Borderlands." The wearer is allowed to make executive decisions regarding the punishment of evil folk and creatures therein to affect change in the region toward the greater good.
Once the veritas enchantment has been sealed, the brooch is then attuned to that specific owner, providing a +1 Resistance bonus to all saving throws to the owner while worn. If the brooch falls into the hands of anyone but its owner, it disintegrates within moments, utterly destroying it and its enchantments.
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