Well now, back home I knew what my gold was worth. A good war horse might cost me three-hundred gold pieces, but ... ummm ... I'd not know whether fifty and ten bits would buy more than a sip of ale out in this wilderness.
Aye, but what choice have we?
Well, I guess I want enough bits to find us a place to rest safely for the night, if such a place can be found.
He nods and place 10 gold coins.
The Usurer gladly accepts your gleaming coins, replacing them with gnarled, dull bits of iron. You can see that his nails are long and hard, and surprisingly clean for a smith. He brushes the pile of gold to the side, unconcerned with it for the time being.
”"Tell me you've likely seen more than a few who would try their hand at this place. Are there any spots you would suggest we avoid trying our hand at until we become more accustomed? Or for that matter services or places that might be of interest to us that as strangers we might not anticipate."”
”"Oh! And that reminds me. If there's anything that can be done to improve the camp, for reasons economical or strategic?”
The Usurer arches an eyebrow. He regards you a moment. "Now that you mention it--" The lockbox closes with a click. "Living upon the mere precipice of civilization, we are in a position to catch wind of rumors. Tall tales spun by hedge knights and bandits, bedtime stories of fishwives, and the lot. But, from time to time, a rumor yield its layers to reveal a pearl of truth." He stands as still as a statue, his eyes searching for something beyond the workshop.
"There is a lich out there. In the Dead Fields of the Desolation. I want it dead. If you can slay it, and bring me proof of its demise, its phylactery, your efforts will be rewarded."
Ulave shudders. Once, long ago, a brother of the cloth and shield rescued me from the spells of a lesser lich, in the hills near Wnonen-town.
Ulave stares hard at the iron bits on the counter, face furrowed in melancholic remembrance of the man who had shown him a path from out of the darkness. Then murmuring softly:
A lich is not easily dispatched, and ultimately pointless if one cannot discover and destroy its phylactery. But this task I would do, for I have been sent here not as an adventurer but as an instrument of vengeance upon the servants of Orcus.
And then more loudly:
Still, not tonight, nor too soon I think, for I do not think I am adequate to meet such an encounter. Where can we find shelter for the night?
Ammonis swipes up his bits, shakes them in his hand like dice. The dead fields..ehh He frowns, remembering nothing good about those lands, like warm bowls of stew or mugs of beer. The alehouse had more allure.
and why, Userer, do you, personally, want this lich destroyed?
Iyon considers the matter for a moment. "What kind of magic allowed it to become a lich, is it a priest of Orcus using the foul gifts of it's patron or is it some kind of mage coming along such a foul path using it's earned power? If it's know that would influence how best to tackle such a being."
and why, Userer, do you, personally, want this lich destroyed?
”Why, to protect The Camp, of course. As its de facto leader, I have a responsibility toward the well-being of those who dwell here. It is a burden I choose...”
"What kind of magic allowed it to become a lich, is it a priest of Orcus using the foul gifts of it's patron or is it some kind of mage coming along such a foul path using it's earned power? If it's know that would influence how best to tackle such a being."
”I couldn’t speak to such things. I do not know how this creature came to be, only what it is. And that it should be plucked from the ground like an errant weed.”
Where can we find shelter for the night?
”Ah, now there’s a question I can answer! The Benderkaupft brothers, Jeblie and Jashanah, run a boarding house. It’s sorely lacking the creature comforts to be found in Bard’s Gate, but, they have hot food and and warm beds. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled for the business.”
Ulave listens to the Usurer attentively.
So... this Usurer acknowledges himself as leader of this community. But why de facto?
[b]Ah, well, hot food and a warm bed are what I need after this day. My companions too I would think. Enough time to think it through in the morning.[/i]
"Anything else we should know. I'd hate for any misunderstandings to cause a problem."
Tacks. How much you willing to pay for this Lich? Iron bits, eh?
Rurik has been listening quietly from the back of the group, eyeing the goods on display with curiosity while occasionally glancing out the entrance into the street.
Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he says, but without any real warmth; it's clear it's more of a standard greeting. "Always good to meet an iron worker. What brought you to this area, so many years ago? And why build a settlement on a tract of land that's so clearly haunted and perilous at night?"
"A lich?", Eddwick asks, scratching his eyebrows in confusion. "In such case, I'd accept, and the renumeration too!", he grins, before looking around the rest. "Unless, of course, uh, my companions decline. In which case, I'll not accept. But I hope they will. Accept, that is. Not decline.", he adds hurriedly, before nodding deeply aas Rurik continues his line of inquiry.
Ulave nods at the party's skepticism.
For us to accept a task as perilous as this, you must be more forthcoming, sir.
Privately Ulave had already decided to pursue the lich, remuneration or none.
I will not bargain for the accomplishment of what is my sacred duty. Nonetheless, carry on companions! I will not intervene.
We can all do with more of these lovely iron bits, but tell me more of this lich. A lich can be relatively weak or it can be among the most dangerous foe.
Ammonis continues Nevertheless, while it is an interesting prospect, this lich, I am of the mind to wait a bit before I leave the camp. I need to get a feel of this place before I go die on the field of desolation.
”The…lich…” he smiles at the word (is he amused?) ”...is powerful enough. Powerful enough to be called so. Powerful enough that we should desire its destruction. Powerful enough, I might guess, to send you all to early graves. But that is why you’ve come, isn’t it? To face great dangers and have all sorts of exciting adventures? And if you intend to even approach the gates of Tsar, well! A mere lich in the fields is the very least of your concerns.”
Tacks. How much you willing to pay for this Lich? Iron bits, eh?
”For this, I will give you ten thousand of your precious, golden coins.” The Usurer’s face doesn’t so much as crack. ”In exchange for nothing less than its phylactery. I demand absolute proof of your dominion over this foe.”
”What brought you to this area, so many years ago? And why build a settlement on a tract of land that's so clearly haunted and perilous at night?"
”Why, I arrived here like any other, a traveler on the road, seeking something beyond my understanding. If I ever did know, I’ve forgotten. But The Camp was already here then, a settlement growing up from the ground exactly where it was needed. Rather than spreading my wings and taking flight once more, I simply decided to stay. Things have...worked out, you might say, and I remain. For want of a better arrangement? I have been accused of lethargy in my appetites, it’s true. But I have grown quite comfortable here, my role has solidified, and I venture so far as to say my presence is now desired by those who would call this home.”
”As for customs, well, you now know the most valuable--iron bits. The water well is also precious--do not pollute it. If you are desirous of cheating, ask the hanged man outside what will become of you. The rest is details as numerous and insignificant as the gravel upon which you walk. You are free agents, after all, and far be it from me to instruct you how to comport yourselves. But do try not to cause undue trouble. We accept the patronage of travelers and adventurers here, but have little patience for upstarts.”
Adventure!? Hah..well perhaps. but I've also a mind to just sit at the alehouse selling puffs of euphoria from my faerie dragon for iron bits. Ammoni squints his eyes. to live in the wastes is to be cautious.
Send many to their deaths after this lich, or are we the first for ya?
After concluding his conversation with the Usurer, Ammonis remarks to his companions. We should go look at the Pounders old camp. Perhaps we can make it our camp. Then we should visit the other mercenary groups here, introduce ourselves.
"The first..." the Usurer smiles, his pale blue eyes widening. "But will you be the last? Time will tell. Time will tell."
_________________________________
The Usurer’s workshop and home stand just before the Commons, but the simple dirt road winds west and north toward the former camp of the Pounders. On the way, you pass the old well house . The building is unlike any other in town. Of tightly fitted mortared stone, it’s obviously ancient but has weathered the years well. It consists of an octagonal building with a conical roof, also of stone. A stout wooden door--not the original--opens wards the Common.
Ahead on the lift, you pass a collection of crumbling adobe buildings, lean-tos, and test surrounding a patch of surprisingly healthy and bountiful garden. A small sign etched on the nearest building reads “Skeribar’s Ranger Guides”.
Then, a short path leads east, into a now-abandoned camp of the Pounders . The remains of campfires, midden pits and tent stakes show that this is a regular campsite that was recently used. An inordinate amount of garbage and stinking wastes show that the inhabitants were giantkind.
Ahha! Iron bits.
Looking around at the mess, Ammonis tried to be optimistic.
Don't mind the mess, I can get it cleaned up right proper with a spell or two by tomorrow night. Eventually, we can try to install some further accommodations.
Then again, we can make our own campground easily enough any where around these parts. Less risk of contracting something nasty.
Speaking to his companions, Ammonis discusses the Usurer's offer. Good money, true. If he pays up as he says. And if we do not perish. The last is what I fear. Rushing out to die before we know what is what.
Ammonis pauses thinking.
Ulave proposed a wise idea to me a moment ago. Perhaps we should hire ourselves out to one of the existing mercenary groups that escort traders north. Working with them may give us a chance to learn the trade, so to speak, from those that have done it and lived.
Ulave wanders about, picking up iron bits, and sniffing distastefully at the garbage, and pondering the descending sun.
He walks back to the group, and hands each a share of the iron bits he's found.
I don't like this place, and see little reason to stay here. It stinks. Probably not much more here than these iron bits. I guess others would have got it by now, if there were. Besides...
Ulave laughs, but in a nervous way.
... I don't trust dead things to stay dead; not here anyway; and I mean those hill-giants, of course.
I don't think those Giants died here, save the one we killed. I doubt that that they cared for this camping ground so much as to come back and haunt it. but he ponders the thought anyway..
We can stay at the inn, and probably afford it, maybe. I'd rather set up camp here. I've second thoughts about trying to establish another camp on the edge of town.. Haunts and what not.
"Getting hired on is one thing but I'd rather set to exploring. Even if we set out to find that lich we would have to be very fortunate- or unfortunate- to find it fast. Likely there'll be all sorts of foes and their wealth before we even get an idea of where to track it down. It could operate in any number of ways."
"Is it a Cleric of Orcus amassing an army of undead in a hidden temple in the wastes? Or a wizard gathering materials for it's research striking out from an unseen lair rarely. Is it alone, or does it have a underlings, does it have a network of spies spread out everywhere in the region to inform it of potential threats? Does it even exits? Exploring is and uncovering clues is the one way we can answer some of these questions. No doubt we'll have more than a few adventures along the way."
Rurik bows his head at the man's deflection, and then steps back, eyeing his wares but in truth activating his innate power to gaze into another's soul; slowly, without outward sign, he tests the mettle of the Usurer's quality, seeking to determine where on the paths of morality he walks.
Rurik hunkers down at the edge of the Pounders' camp, hands hanging between his knees, and watches with a sober expression as his companions scrounge iron bits from the refuse. A lonely wind blows through the tattered tents, bringing with it ash, stench, and what might have been the sweet taint of rot.
Grimacing, he flicks away a shard of rusted metal. "We've no business haring after a lich. Not yet, at any rates. Those are legendary creatures of awful magic and spite. No; I say we keep it in mind, learn what we can of it as we go about our business, and eventually, one day, seek a confrontation."
He sighs and stands. "But that day hasn't yet come. As for this camp, I'll not sleep in such filth with good iron bits in my pocket. Ammonis, I'll bed down here once you've cleaned it up, but see no reason to deprive myself of a civilized inn in favor of squalor. The Forgefather knows we've got enough hard times coming soon enough."
"I'm of like mind with Lyon. I've no wish to hire myself out to an unknown quantity and risk my life for another. I say we begin with a series of day trips out into the waste, traveling out in a radius of five, ten miles or so, enough to weather an encounter or two before returning to camp by nightfall. Cut our teeth, as it were, and get a sense of just how bad it is out there. Once we've got the measure of the land and a better idea of how things work out here, then we can make some more long term plans."
Ulave shrugs. Companions, but maybe companions only for the day. Each is free to go there own way. I thought it wise, and Ammonis too, but then both of us are fools, no?
Ulave stands up, and nods to Ammonis. Come, I think the inn will suit you better. Let us see if we cannot find food, drink, and maybe a little cheer.
In the fading light of early evening, you wander back through the Commons and west, passing by two round mud-brick towers connected at the base and roofed by stretched tarps. The mud walls have been stained a charcoal gray, and a large skull and scythe above a setting sun have been painted on the door in red.
On the left, there’s a sod house complete with thatched roof and fieldstone chimney . While its deeply recessed windows are blocked by heavy wooden shutters, there are signs of recent repair to its structure.
Just behind it, an old, artificial mound rises twenty feet into the air .
Your destination, however, is just ahead. A rambling plank structure appears to be comprised of the dismantled remains of dozens of freight wagons and other assorted scrap lumber. Stenciling above the door names it as “Bender Bros.” .
After a knock upon the door, it swings outward with startling force, narrowly missing Lyon’s visor. A short little gnome with jet black hair, a bulbous nose, and a scraggly beard stoops in the doorframe, carrying a bundle of sticks in his arms. ”Bless my soul! Guests! Jashanah!!!” Another gnome emerges from the kitchen, identical to the first in every respect, right down to the same black leather armor. Despite the sneer upon their faces, they greet you warmly. ”And you’ll be staying the evening, then? Always a delight! I am Jashanah Benderkaupft, and--”
”--and I’m Jeblie Benderkaupft” Jeblie interrupts. ”But one does tire of the pronunciation, so we’re simply known as--”
”--the Bender Brothers,” finishes Jashanah. He extends a small hand. ”Rates--”
”--are fixed at five iron bits per night per--” Jeblie cuts him off, throwing his bundle of sticks unceremoniously off to the side.
”--per body.” Jashanah muscles through, tugging on Lyon. ”You’ve seen the Usurer, I take it?”
”All the rooms have locks, they do. No one robs a guest of the Bender Brothers!” Jeblie explains to Fae, apparently oblivious to the wizened wizard on whose shoulder she sits.
”And the first night’s meal is free!” squeals Jashanah. ”Wild hare and lamb!”
”Whadda ya say?” they ask in unison.
Ammonis was still of the mind to construct the largest villa in the wastes, have dinner parties, with the locals..but an inn would do for the night. He joins the others to plod over to Bender Bros. They pass by a dreadful mud building..
Nergal...a forgotten God of death. How appropriate to the wastes. Ammonis walks on, not caring to stop. Ah, A Bender. His poor mood lightened after the mention of lamb.
Sounds fine.
Like the Usurer, you do? Ammonis asks one of the brothers.
"Thank you for the warm welcome Bender Brothers. We'll be staing one night at least." Still aching a little from the fight with the giant a meal and a good nights rest sounded very inviting indeed.
Rurik frowns at the pair of them. "Five iron bits a night, each? That's twenty five gold, that is. Come. Let us be reasonable. No need to extort new friends. Three iron bits and the meal and you'll find us the best of guests, defending your inn as if it were our own home."
Even as he speaks he examines the brothers, trying to determine their alignments.
Regardless of the agreed upon rate, Rurik enters, kicking the toes of his boots on the door sill to knock of the dirt, and then moves to the closest empty table to stretch out his legs and sigh with relief.
A sight better than the giant camp, at any rate.
When the brothers come back with the food, he orders a tankard of ale and gives them a warm smile.
"Such cheer and service I did not expect, not here, not this close to Tsar. A welcome surprise! What brought the pair of you to this desolation? How long have you been here, and might you have any news or choice rumors to share with newly arrived folks like ourselves?"
Ulave gives his best smile, as if to say our very presence will make this inn the envy of every inn from here to Bard's Gate.
Jebli giggles with delight at Rurik. ”Oh, a haggler, dear brother! We are truly blessed this day! You must excuse our rates.”
”But it isn’t easy,” Jashanah continues, ”earning a living through hospitality. Not in Bard’s Gate, and certainly not at the lip of the Desolation. We charge as we do because we may not receive any business for weeks on end!”
”Simple economics,” Jebli confirms. ”But, perhaps we can offer you a group package. Let’s see… There are four of you…”
Jashanah cuts in. ”The gnomish fellow, the fifth, I saw him wandering out the south gate. Heavens, I hope he takes shelter soon, before the night sets in. There are things out in the Desoluation that hunt at night. They devour travelers and even comes to the Camp sometimes in their hunts. I saw a creature like a great wolf, and encountering it would surely spell death!”
”Yes, yes,” Jebli waves his hand dismissively. ”But the rate. I suppose we could accept as little as four iron bits per person. We’d still throw in the first night’s supper, of course. We’d much prefer having you as guests than not. As my brother says. There are things that hunt at night.” He smiles amiably, or as close to it as he can get with that perpetual sneer. ”Would that be more agreeable?”
”News?” Jashana snorts. ”Gossip you mean, and there’s no shortage of that today. Not after you roasted Gurg like a pig!” Both Benders laugh hysterically, clutching their rib. ”Oh dear…. Oh dear, yes…” Jebli continues. ”We’re not surprised Gurg is dead, are we dear brother? No. We think Clantock was trying to do him in. Gurg and his bunch were running Clantock and his mercenaries out of business.”
Jashana pipes up. ”I saw Clantock myself consorting with some winged devil outside of town the other day. When they were done talking that devil took off and flew out into the Desolation. Clantock didn’t see me and it’s none of my business. But we think it strange, don’t you?”
As it happens, I don't have enough iron bits for this. Erm, I spent too much on my hat. I think I'll set up camp and try to clean it up a bit..
Ammonis had followed them here, not wanting to admit to his poverty. However, his 10 gold had netted him only two iron bits, and he'd left his remaining 10 gold in his purse.
Wild hare and lamb?
The old ranger Galin had used to sing an old southern song, a tale really, about Young Jack the Careless's last meal. How did it go?
To feast on wild hare and lamb and
sip the spring wine of autumn berry
Did Jack the Careless go on and
Cross over on death's dark ferry
The story is common enough, he didn't doubt that these gnomes might have heard it before. And where would they have found lamb anyway?
As unobtrusively as he could, he opened himself to the auras of the others around him, and quickly focused on the two brothers. There was something, slick, almost oily about them.
Now, Ulave was not the sort of paladin who refused to associate with anyone whose auras were not clean of all evil. He had sinned too much to harbor any illusions about his own purity, or that those who did evil could not be redeemed. And frankly, I am here in this desolation for a purpose. Still, it was enough reason to be cautious.
Perhaps Ammonis is right. Even at four bits a night, the price is outrageous. I will not pay more than a single bit per night, nor will any of my companions, I think. Daily meals included. That is already twice the price of any reasonable inn in Bard's Keep. That city, I will have you know, is not known for inexpensive accommodations either.
Let's see how much these two really want us to stay.
I should not wonder if we were to be the meal for those two Ammonis shivers.
He nods to the brothers. Good evening. The Cornu Ammonis will wander the Camplands with nought but his hat and a canvas tent.
A well-built, tall man with dark hair, white eyes, and pale blue skin with transparent blood beneath, enters the inn of the Bendor Bros. His dark steel full plate is not new but is serviceable, though his longspear has certainly seen better days. Some may recognise him as a samsaran.
He ponders the symbol he saw on the way.
A near-dead god of death. Hmmph. I wonder if I fought against - or with - his servants before.
He walks in, in time to hear the debate about the price. And waits for a pause before interjecting in a gravelly voice.
"Greetings to you all. I am Agyen, and I would search the battlefield and strike for Tsar itself. But not tonight. I would have accommodation for now, and companions afterwards."
His equipment is the same. But Agyen's flesh is horribly damaged by some unnatural cause, a wasting or withering. It not quite corpse-like in appearance, but it appears closer to that than to a healthy person's.
"The Usurer, I presume? I have been informed by passer-bys that I will require iron bits to trade in the Camp. I will have fifty should they be available."
Agyen will count out ten gold pieces unless informed otherwise.
Iyon studies the newcomer "We're negotiating over rates right now. Poor attendance of customers given the location has led to the suggestion of a rather excessive charge... I might leave the matter to my associates to haggle. We've got our ambitions to seek fortune in this area."
Jashanah grabs Agyen's hand. "Another adventurer! Things are looking up! Don't be fooled. It's exceedingly rare that we should be inundated with so much patronage at once!"
Jebli and Jashanah exchange a look. For once, Jashanah lets his brother speak. "Don't be hasty! A compromise, then!" says Jebli. "Since we are mere business-gnomes, victims of the harsh economic realities of the Camp, and you are adventurers set on finding fortune out on the Desolation, what if we create a credit arrangement? We will offer you the the reduced rate of four iron bits per body per night, with all evening meals included at no additional charge. And we will not collect payment at this time, but rather allow your bill to accrue for the term of, shall we say, one month, and interest free. At the end of one month, or sooner should you seek to terminate your visit with us, the balance of your bill will become due and owing. We can scratch out a promissory note easily enough."
Jeshanah nods excitedly.
Agyen attempts to discretely remove his hand from Jashanah's grasp, clearly uncomfortable with the contact, while he speaks himself.
"Patron gnomes, I would know if you mean a month's worth of stays, or booking rooms by the month, or having a month to acquire iron bits to cover however many nights we stayed within that month? This will make a considerable difference to our decision."
Especially towards the end of his speech, he looks around to the other would-be guests.
Ammonis shakes his head and leaves.
"You'd only be charged for those nights you stay as our guests, of course--oh fiddlesticks!" Jebli curses as Cornu walks out. "We do fear for that one's safety. Surely you can speak some sense into the man?"
Agyen sighs internally. But he decides to act.
Damnable, money-hungry adventurers.
Before Cornu can get far, Agyen moves to catch up to him.
"Cornu Ammonis, correct? We do not know each other, but I will give you a piece of advice. This place kills swiftly, but kills those alone even swifter. I strongly recommend that you do not wander off by yourself in the vicinity of Tsar. Even the mighty can end up ravaged, a full lifetime later."
Aygen, eh? Nice to meet you, I suppose. As it happens, I am not leaving the camp. I am camping where others here have camped. Besides, I have not the bits. That is not an exaggeration...and I've never been one take on credit accounts for creature comforts. In any case, I plan to be at this camp a long while, and I'll be damned if I'll pay someone to do so. I am a free agent, to quote that dark minded Usurer.
Agyen nods.
"I understand. I sincerely wish you luck, and if you would be amenable, perhaps we could work out future cooperation. There are many foes out there, and it is easier to face them with numbers. A good night to you."
If Cornu has nothing to add, Agyen will turn and head back into the inn.
Just Ammonis please. I am here because I was judged an evil Cornu and exiled to the wastes, which is, erm an exaggeration of my faults. I assume the title only when I wish to self-deprecate.