As Talliree and Mitchell talk, the Manor continues to re-settle itself after it's temporary transformation.
Creaks and groans of wood and masonry echo from the other parts of the building, seeming to come together in a kind of sigh; of release perhaps.
Each of the party then realizes, that a knot of tension, between the shoulder blades had gone. The sudden absence made you realize it had been there, slowly building since you'd made residence here some days before.
You are certain the threat of the Hag has been ended. You recall reading of similar 'hauntings', wherein the creature had manifested itself, actually changing the environment with it's presence, presenting it's actual self, not just it's shade or apparition. Killing the creature at that time was final.
Talliree looks up when Mitchell grabs her shoulders. She nods as she listens to what he is saying. Before he can get out of reach, she wraps him up in a bear hug of her own with no hesitation at all.
"Thanks you," she says, laughing with relief as the tension eases in her shoulders. "Thank you for not leaving me alone."
Mitchell stiffens at Talliree's passionate embrace... then slowly melts into the embrace. It had been years... since his Grammy died since he'd been hugged with true feeling.
"I...I... Thank you as well. I... Mitchell seems about to say more but then returns to business.
"I've read about this kind of haunt before. I think that since we've released the souls that creature used for energy she is no more. Still we're going to need some help getting this place back where it should be. Got any friends needing work"?
”The last friend I had before meeting you and the others tried to beat me to a pulp the last time I saw him.” A dangerous edge creeps into Talliree’s voice as the bitter memory comes back.
Mitchell looks upon his companion with horror. "That's terrible. That was no friend. I can promise you that any beating to a pulp I do will be by your side, not aimed at you".
Though Mitchell then looks at Talliree with a bit of a grin... "Though I would think he somehow had you at a disadvantage at the time or you were much younger".
"So do you think we should find some help with this place. it's a lot of work, but hopefully it should be safer now"?
"Yep, all of last year 'twas when I was an innocent and tender lass," Talliree says in a creaky voice that sounds like an old, withered dame's. "You also got to know me as a fighter first. He still thought of me as just a young half-elf girl. He may have started it, but I definitely finished it." Her voice returns to normal as she continues and flashes Mitchell a ferocious grin. Her smile fades as she looks away.
"Sorry, I guess I haven't really gotten over it." She sighs and looks back at Mitchell. "But yeah, we should probably get some help. I think it's going to be a little much for us and Hob."
As Michell and Talliree talked, Hob and Himo had also engaged in an animated , whispered conversation.
At the mention of his name, Hob perks up and declares, "I'm sorry , my dear, but you'll need some more help than that, for I shant be staying on. "
He has the good grace to look somewhat shamed by what he was saying, "This last 'adventure' has me shook, I admit it. I think I'll be taking up my uncles invitation to join him in Neverwinter, help him with his brewery. Himo is accompanying me on the journey, isn't that so?" he says, looking to the Acolyte of Mask.
Himo nods, "Yeah, I'm not so shook up by this, but still I'm not for running a joint. I'll see Hob to Neverwinter and see where the road takes me from there. Here, get out the deed, we'll strike our names; leave room for new partners to come aboard!"
Talliree's face crumples for just a moment, only as long as it would have taken Mr. Whiskers to twitch his eponymous whiskers. Hurt, anger, fear, and other emotions too muddled to catch twist her features and flash in her eyes before fading into a resigned and mournful mask.
"S-safe travels," is all she can manage to say as Himo and Hob ready themselves to leave.
Mitchell addresses his former partners.
"I certainly understand gentlemen. The pressure of owning and running a successful business... especially a formerly haunted one is not for everyone. I wish you luck, and you'll always have a house discount here if you return to visit".
Mitchell puts on a stolid face as he pulls forth the documents to be sighed over, but you can tell he is a bit confused why anyone would give up the safe profitable income for an unsure life of adventure.
After seeing Hob and Himo off, Talliree closes the door and makes it three paces before she starts to sniffle. She only makes it another one before she begins to bawl. The wounds from Farlo's betrayal were only just beginning to heal, and now she'd seen most of her new friends leave. They had reasons, good ones even, but she still feels the wounds they leave behind as they move on. Was she destined to lose all of her companions? Was she doomed to live a life filled with loneliness and pain as they left her?
She knows she's being unfair and selfish, but she cares little for that at the moment. She hurts and something inside of her cries out for her to give vent to it and the anger. Only with the release of her pain could she heal.
So she stands there, her head buried in her hands before she falls to her knees and sobs all the more.
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Kurgan sat on the streets of Waterdeep with a long look on his face. He had been fired from yet *another* tavern. And it was for the usual issues. Brawling with patrons. Drinking the ale. "Unnatural experiments that are perversions of the entire natural order." The usual.
He was wearing a backpack that contained all of his worldly possessions. Well, not just a backpack. The dwarf wore a suit of boiled leather armor, studded with metal. Over this was a faded blue cloak which had once been of fine quality. Two hammers hung from his belt, one a full sized warhammer and the other a smaller throwing hammer and on his backpack was slung a shield. In his lap was a very old dark red hat, and his most prized possession. It was a greataxe, the head of which was a mug and which had a blade that seemed to shimmer like the water on a still lake. It was a holy relic of Hanseath, that went by the name of Anvilbreaker. All in all, he could have been marching to war. Sadly, it was not war that he was meant for, but rather brewing. And for all of his equipment, he only have a handful of coins to his name. With a sad sigh he held up his axe and looked at it closely. It meant everything to him...
Back in the heyday of mithril hall, when the halls rang with the sound of hammer on anvil and ironshod boots on stone floors, there had been a dwarven smith by the name of Thorek Anviltamer. He had been a paragon among his people, known throughout the hold as a weaponsmith without equal. Everything he made was of peerless quality, and it was said that only with one of his axes would a dwarf be properly armed for battle. If his tale ended there then he would have had a story much like many a dwarf. A life of hard work, toil and respect. But the tales that are remembered rarely end as such.
For the greatest of dwarven smiths, there comes a time when they feel the pull of the forge. When they have a calling to craft an item of such quality, of such strength, that it takes on a part of themselves. With the price being that the craftsmen will never craft anything greater. And Thorek felt the pull. When the strange mood took him, he locked himself away and went to work, coming out only to make demands to his clansmen. Many expected him to make demands like mithril, or illithium ore. Instead, his demands were...different. Such as copious amounts of ale, blessed by clerics, and large quantities of troll blood. Weeks went by as Thorek worked feverishly, in the end ignoring even the food and water left outside his workshop. It was the talk of the hold, with many gossiping about what wonder he would make.
When the doors to his workshop finally opened, what they found was an old dwarf with sunken features and a wasted frame, for he had poured himself into the axe that he made. But there was no fanfare. There was no rejoicing. For the axe was a monstrous thing, far too large and heavy for any dwarf to wield. It was said by all who held it that it would take a hill giant to swing it in battle. But that was not all. For Thorek had made something different from what any dwarf in Mithril Hall had seen. Rather than an axe made out of steel, or mithril, or any other known metal, the blade had been made out of "liquid glass." The blessed ale, forged with troll blood, had created a blade which seemed to move and shimmer, but which held an edge. And atop the axe was a mug, inscribed with the runes of Hanseath.
Despite the wonder of it's creation, the axe itself was met with profound disappointment. While certainly a holy item, it was found to be far too unwieldy for actual use. There were dark murmurings that it was 'all show and no swing' and that Thorek had been abit *too* blessed by Hanseath when he made it. No dwarf was willing to wield it, though many a serious and doughty warrior tried. As such, it was taken by the temple of Hanseath and was hung above the main entrance. And there it sat until the fall of Mithril Hall and it's reclamation. Of Thorek, the dwarf wasted away after his creation, and died of old age, having never produced another weapon. The axe took on the name "Anvilbreaker", for it had broken the anvil that he had tamed.
Many a century later, the axe was finally used for it's intended purpose. Kurgan, a faithful follower of Hanseath, was on a quest. A quest to make a name for himself as a brewer of legend, who would find the rarest of ingredients and from them make a brew which would make his name go down in the annals of history. Or at least earn a few good toasts. Either way worked for him. So long as when he died he could meet his God and give an offering worthy of his devotion. And when he left, he decided to do something that no other dwarf had thought to do.
He went to the clerics of Hanseath, and beseeched them to allow him to take the axe with him, for Kurgan said that it was against everything their deity stood for to have a holy weapon gather dust when it could be used. The clerics of any God besides Hanseath would have scoffed at the idea of using a holy relic as such, but Hanseath is not like most Gods, and his followers tend not to be exactly right in the head. Kurgan's proclamation was met with bellowing laugher, and he was given the axe with the hopes that he would at least kill a single orc with it before he accidently cut himself down.
And the clerics would have been right...but for the grace of Hanseath. For in Kurgan's hands, the weapon is actually usable, swinging straight and true, despite it's odd balance. For what the dwarfs of yore had forgotten was that the weapon had been blessed by a God, and that only one of his followers was meant to wield it.
...he smiled. The axe was his strength, for it was a reminder of what he had come to Waterdeep to do. He had left his homeland and the hidebound traditions so that he could truly be himself. So that he could drink, and laugh, and brew, all without longbearded elders grumbling at every step he could. It was here, in the City of Cities, that he would make his legend come true!
His stomach growled. He decided first food, then he'd make a legend. The problem was, where could he find work? Most reputable places already knew him well enough to not take him in. And that was when he remembered that pretty lass who was strong enough to break an orc's spine over her knee. Talliree! Locals were saying that she had a place, but that it was haunted. With a wry smile Kurgan pushed himself to his feet. He'd bet his belt buckle that was just the place which would hire him and it was just the place that would give him what he needed to really give his drinks a kick.
He spat in his hand and started wiping the dirt and grime out of his beard. He really needed the job, so he had to look his best.
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A distance away, in one of the many towers that the guards of Waterdeep called their own, sat the diminutive man known as Jasper Silvereyes. Looking over the mountain of paperwork, the halfling sighed and sat back in his seat before lightly puffing at the pipe that hung from his lips. Smoke escaped his nostrils like that of a dragon as he stared out the open window into the gorgeous night sky. His family had warned him of this for quite some time; his turn from the family business of making the best damn jam that the Sword Coast had ever seen into the work of a city guard was not natural for a halfling like himself. Things would go wrong. He would become dissatisfied. He would yearn for simpler times. They were almost right, the sensation he felt was even worse than homesickness.
Jasper was terribly bored.
Years of service to the city watch had earned him the honorable title of Vigilant, a sergeant amidst the force that helped keep peace within the city and protected it from threats beyond its border. Yet the thrill of chasing down the occasional killer, breaking up the latest thieving ring, and the endless drunken outbursts had grown dull and monotonous. The mountain of paperwork he now had to deal with almost made him long for the days when he would walk the streets as part of the patrols. The people he would meet were such shiny moments of light compared to his fellows who were trapped in desk duty. The young half-elven woman who had been part of his first big break that made him stand out from the usual guards, the proper nobleman who aided him in tracking down small trio dedicated to Mask, just the joy of every day being a new adventure. Now it was just as dull as making jam.
Emptying out his pipe, Jasper brushed his black uniform with gold trim off before looking back once more towards the paperwork that demanded his attention. Fingertips rubbed at a headache that was brewing before the young halfling's eyes snapped open. It was a crazy idea. It was absurd really. Could he really do it? Why not? It was just as much of a shift from making jam, right? A wry grin spread across Jasper's face as he hopped from his chair with a pep in his step before heading to his captain's office.
"Ah, Vigilant Jamjar. Good to see you." The middle-aged man said from his desk, the use of his clan name earning a small scowl from the halfling. Jasper moved to the chair and hopped in, his head just clearing the desk. Most of these places were built for the bigger races and Jasper had long since learned to adjust.
"Captain Villabeau, good evening. I need to talk to you about my paperwork." The captain quirked an eyebrow, motioning for him to continue. "I need someone else to do it for me tonight. In fact, all nights going onwards." The words earned a small chuckle from the human, who tilted his head to the side in amusement.
"Is that right? Why would that be?" Jasper's look of amusement grew as well as he sat up straight, his young face splitting into a wider smile.
"I'm retiring. Tonight. Sorry for the forewarning. Its a...a Jamjar thing, you could say."
A few hours later, Jasper was freed from the ropes of bureaucracy and had the chance to begin his career as an adventurer! Perilous journeys, dangerous tasks, evil foes, a life of excitement! It was all his as he returned to his tiny apartment and settled in. He didn't have anywhere to really start with it, of course. There was the Yawning Portal and the deathtrap that it went down into. There was plenty of work to be found elsewhere. Yet all of those sounded so dull and contrite. He didn't stop being a member of the watch just so he could protect a caravan! Left perplexed of where to begin, he nearly missed the envelope upon his desk. Within it was a correspondence from the human noble he had befriended, one named Mitchell Cloudkeep. They had worked well together to solve the Waukeen case and had kept up letters to one another. One never knew when they could use a nobleman on their side or when a short detective could be of assistance.
Looking through the paper, he read about his acquaintance's latest trials and tribulations. A haunted tavern, adventure and mystery, it brought an excited smile to the halfling's face as he wet his quill in ink and began to write a response back. Perhaps his friend needed another helping hand? A tavern was an excellent business investment after all.
"My dear friend Mitchell, it seems you have yourself quite the venture! I have retired myself from the boring tedium that was the Watch recently and have been seeking new opportunities to test myself. The cutthroat nature of entrepreneurship within Waterdeep would be quite the challenge. If you are interested, we could talk the possibilities of partnership and what Jasper Silvereye could bring to your tavern. If I may say..." The halfling murmured to himself, writing with a look of fervent excitement upon his face. Seemed opportunity had shown itself at just the right moment.
Mitchell watches Talliree with a mixture of horror, and sympathy. He's not sure what to do wondering if he consoles her will she get angry and break off his arm, and if he doesn't will she ever stop.
He chooses to stand a few feet away and offer her encouragement. "There, there now. I'm still hear am I not. And I'm sure there are others who will cross our paths who might help us out. And Hob and Himo are still our friends... they're just not going to be present physically. I'm sure if we reached out to them they'd still do what they could to help".
He then reaches for a nearby linen napkin to hand the burly barbarian. Just as he reaches out a paper bird flies in through the open window, and hits him in the forehead barely missing his eye. "Ouch"! he reflexively shouts as the bird unfolds into a piece of parchment, and gently wafts to the ground.
"What's this now"? The holy warrior begins to read the document, and a smile begins to cross his handsome face. "See right here. A friend of mine Jasper Silvereye... you might have heard me mention our name, has reached out to me and is interested in new opportunities. He's just the sort we need to make a go of this thing. I'll go find a messenger, and fetch him here at first opportunity, so you'll have a chance at a new friend".
Mitchell dashes from the room, and grabs the first messenger he sees with instructions to find Jasper and ask him to attend.
Not long after the message was sent out, Kurgan entered the tavern. The door flew up, having been pushed harder than was intended, revealing the smiling face of a dwarf. Kurgan looked around, and spotting Talliree, he bellowed "Oi! There's me bonny lass, eh? Ye remember old Kurgan, aye?"
As an outsider in Waterdeep, Kurgan had operated out of the poorer quarters for city, seeking work where he could. Unfortunately this put him in the territory of the Crimson Breakers. While he never ran with them, he was victimized by the group, with their enforcers demanding a tithe of his product. Something they would do in large enough groups for the dwarf to know better than to be obstinate about. Of the Breakers, the only one who ever struck him as being a good sort was Talliree.
"Heard ye *broke* away from the Crimsons, eh? S'true that this 'ere place is yers?" He asked. Then, noticing Mitchell for the first time, he said "Oh! Sorry there, lad. S'cuse me manners. Name's Kurgan! Brewer by trade, drinker by birth." Seeing his noble bearing he hesitated to extend his hand, not wanting hurt Talliree's business by offending a nobleman.
As one neophyte trade began in Trollskull Manor, across the city, within the House of Light another was coming to an end.
Inside, Tullowvaen took in the flickering grandeur within the 3 storey guildhouse of Waterdeep’s Guild of Chandlers and Lamplighters, one final time. It was a place he had come to call home, and had served dutifully for over 10 years.
As the tall gold elf mulled his tenure, he inhaled the comforting scent of burning tallow and the sight of candle flames making the shadows dance.
Ten years. A mere season to my folk. A lifetime to many poor souls of the city…
Before him sat his Master of Flame. The guild master carefully signing two documents before he addressed his
”It is a bittersweet eve Tullowvaen. You have served us in exemplar fashion this last decade. I am truly sorry to see you leave us, I know the lads feel the same…”
The old man smiled wistfully, as Tullowvaen’s keen eyes were drawn to the shadows, where other members of the guild huddled - black capped and curious. Most were mere children, few could call themselves adult. All were his family.
To them he was a figure of fascination and fantasy; his skills, his magicks, the exemplar blade and craftwork he demonstrated. All had made him revered and emulated. To Tullowvaen it had always been about perfection. About the craft and duty. Until but a week ago, he achieved his end. His magnum opus - a candle delicately sculpted to resemble the Morninglord himself.
At the end of his lamp-lighting shift, the tall elf had graciously presented his work at the Spires of the Morning. Such was its beauty that the priests bade the head of the temple - High Radiance Ghentilara herself receive it. When its perfection drew a smile and a tear from the priestess, Tullowvaen knew that a chapter had ended. He tendered his intent to leave that very day, and a week later his final shift was done.
The Master of Flame tapped the two scrolls;
”This one is a letter of commendation. Signed by myself. Sealed with the symbol and wax of our guild. May it provide testimony to your service for any who would seek it.”
”The second is your final act as a Guilder. We have been made aware of a new tavern in the North Ward. It carries the name Trollskull Manor…”
The guild master chuckled to himself as he read Tullowvaen's expression;
”I know the name will already be distasteful to you. Just remember Tullowvaen. Not all of us are refined as yourself. I know not what kind of place it is, but the fact one of the owners is of noble birth offers some hope. The Cloudkeeps of Ahm if I recall… Regardless, seek them out and present this missive detailing our services and goods. All taverns need light. All streets need illumination. Offer them good terms should they seek our services. That is all we ask.”
Dutifully the elf removed his own black cap, placing it next to the flickering candles upon the Master’s table.
Gathering up the two scrolls with a nod, the tall elf proudly addressed his guild;
”Know this I will do. Though I leave you all, I do not leave. I am in the flickering flame. I am in each carve of the tallow. I will watch over you all.”
He bowed, and keen ears picked up more than few sniffles from the shadows. The Master presented him with one final parting boon;
”Take also these gifts. Each of your watch crafted a candle for you. May they light your path. From me this pendant…”
Tullowvaen stooped as the old man pinned the silver pendant symbolising flickering flame upon his breast.
”You may be a peerless warrior, wizard and worker, but you elves are fragile too. This periapt has magic. It shall ward you from death, and afford you better healing when recovering. Wear it well.”
He paused, pride clear. Then as a final farewell offered up the Guild’s maxim:
”May our light burn bright.”
And with that he was gone. Reach pole slung over his shoulder. Missives and scimitar at his hip.
To Trollskull Manor it is, and whatever awaits me there...
Mitchell's attempts to calm Talliree take a minute or two to begin their work, but strong emotions cannot last forever. They burn too bright and hot. She sniffles as she looks up, then jumps as a paper bird smacks Mitchell in the head. He begins to read before she can ask if he's okay. The moment of pain passes as she listens and wonders if she's ever seen Mitchell this excited.
Before he can head out, she hears the crash of the door and the call of a familiar dwarven voice. Her eyes, still wet with tears, widen as she sees Kurgan for the first time in years.
"Oh! Y-yes, Mitchell and I own now, I guess," she says as she wipes her eyes and sniffles again. She gets to her feet and comes up just a head taller than the dwarf, and much more slightly built. "I don't think I could forget you, but I was kinda hopin' you wouldn't remember me, or that I was with the Breakers..."
Her voice trails off as she cast a glance over Mitchell's way. The man was a bit of a stickler and she really hoped her former association with the Crimson Breakers wasn't about to sour the friendship they had.
”Bah! Could ne’er forget ye! Yer the only fookin’ good one there was. Remember ye fondly, aye I do. Glad ye escaped them fookers. So, ye two own this place?” He said, dropping his backpack to the ground. He had never handled tears very well. Sadness, in general, made him uncomfortable. Crying doubly so. Anger and joy though? Those two he understood, as they were the answer to nearly everything. ”Seems to me it’s missing something. Something like...a brewmaster with a luxuriously handsome beard. Aye, one so unforgettable that he could walk in after years, as broke as a looted body, and in need of a place to brew his spirits. Aye...I think this place could use one of those.” He said, meaningfully.
It did not take long for the messenger to find the sly halfling, who was already in the midst of packing up his belongings and preparing for travel. There was interesting work to be done up in the restoration of Neverwinter, if all thing failed locally, and the need for adventurers there to clear out ruined sections of the city were great indeed. The messenger arrived out of breath, placing a hand on the door.
"A-Are you Jasper Silvereye?" The young human man said, bringing a smile to Jasper's face. It seemed that his friend was either very eager to see him or the situation was a bit more desperate than he had imagined. Either case would prove an interesting in the long run.
"Why, yes I am. Please, sit and have some water. You look parched, friend." Jasper would gesture him into the small apartment and fetched a glass of water for the man to drink from. Happy to have a moment to rest after being paid well by the scion of House Cloudkeep, the messenger delivered the news. It seemed that Trollskull Manor was newly acquired and in need of assistance getting onto its feet. There had been vacancies made by a few others that had helped secure it. Mitchell made it quite clear that he would be welcome and one with his reputation and friendliness could be exactly what the tavern needed. Paying the messenger well and making sure he left with a bit of his family's jam and warm bread as well, Jasper would gather up his gifts and make his way to Trollskull Manor.
Trollskull Manor was a beauty covered in decay but, like a proper halfling should, Jasper did not look at it and see the outside. He saw the beauty and potential of this beautifully crafted building. Even in its current state, the lights shining from within provided a warmth that brought a small smile to his face. With his arms full, he would make his way towards the door where he saw a tall, elven man approaching. It took a moment to recognize him as a member of the Lamplighter's Guild.
"Excuse me, good elf! Sir! Would you mind...uh...helping me? I fear I may have been a bit overzealous for a celebration for a friend." In this small halfling's arms were a multitude of loaves of bread, jars with different jams, and it looked like smoked meat and cheese as well. How the small fellow was able to carry it all was a wonder, likely more out of sheer determination than actual physics.
”Bah! Could ne’er forget ye! Yer the only fookin’ good one there was. Remember ye fondly, aye I do. Glad ye escaped them fookers. So, ye two own this place?”
Talliree sniffles as she wipes the last few tears from her eyes. She smiles, true it is a small smile, but she smiles nonetheless.
"Thanks, Kurgan. That means a lot."
”Seems to me it’s missing something. Something like...a brewmaster with a luxuriously handsome beard. Aye, one so unforgettable that he could walk in after years, as broke as a looted body, and in need of a place to brew his spirits. Aye...I think this place could use one of those.” He said, meaningfully.
"If you can pull weight as a bartender too, then I think we'd be fools not to have you," Talliree says. She beams, her spirits lifted considerably thanks to the dwarf and Mitchell. "So we have a brewer, a bouncer and a barmaid. I guess we need a cook, don't we?"
Mr. Whiskers, who'd been busy else where scurries in from wherever he's been and climbs up Talliree to sit on her shoulder and eye the newcomer, Kurgan.
"And since we're busy getting to know one another, this is my friend Mr. Whiskers," she says, introducing the mouse. "Mr. Whiskers, this is Kurgan. He'll be helping out."
The mouse leans out and twitches his whiskers as he takes Kurgan's measure. After a moment, he nods as if to say you'll do, then finds his favored riding spot in Talliree's collar.
"Ah, he can be a bit, uh, particular about people. At least he doesn't dislike you. I'd be worried for your socks then."
Tullovaen pauses outside Trollskull Manor, his focus solely on keeping his lip from curling in disdain;
This.. "hovel"... is owned by a noble? Perhaps one that has fallen on hard times...
His brow furrows as he contemplates entering, when he is aware of being hailed. The Lamplighter pivots to cast his gaze toward a halfling dressed in the uniform of the Watch, heavily laden with food and jars of preserves;
"Greetings Master Halfling. Assistance? Yes; for a Serjeant of the Watch most surely..."
Tullowvaen approaches the diminutive porter, attempting to lighten his burden whilst commenting on the situation;
"For such small folk, your prestigious appetites never cease to surprise. Regardless, to where does this hungry friend of yours reside?"
At the mention of his uniform, Jasper looked down at himself quickly and gasped in surprise. He was still wearing his uniform, an unspoken invitation for him to return back to the Watch should he ever wish to. Who said that his captain wasn't a sweetheart at the core of his being?
"Oh? Oh! Yes, yes I am still dressed for work. The excitement must've been so much that I forgot to change! Silly me." Jasper chuckled to himself, lifting up some of the jars and happily offloading a bit of the weight to the elf. He looked infinitely more comfortable now than he was a little bit ago. Shuffling the bread in his arms, he nodded towards the rundown manor they both stood outside of.
"My friend is here, I believe. You can never have enough food, drink, and merriment at the beginning of a new venture, you know. I am certain that they will be gushing with excitement once we get inside. You're welcome to stay and eat as well, Ma and Pa would never forgive me for not inviting someone so helpful to a meal!" Jasper exclaims as he waddles his way up to the front door and knocks upon it three times before clearing his voice.
The halfling shouted, his voice surprisingly authoritative and powerful. The Watch had certainly removed any shyness from him. He gave the elf a cheeky wink before waiting for the door to open. How he could not wait to start celebrating.
Some time had passed since Kurgan had accepted the graciously offered position. When the knock came he was behind the bar, taking stock of what was on tap and getting familiar with the premises. He stopped at the commotion.
”Seems like there’s a guest for ye.” He said to the nobleman.
For his part Tullowvaen stoically stands, having alleviated some of the loaves and preserves from Jasper.
"For my part Master Halfling, I am merely here as an agent to offer my guild's services... though I am not sure bespoke tallow candles and lamp lighting is the priority for this... ramshackle... establishment."
As the excitable halfling festoons him with details, the Lamplighter forces a smile;
Quite the talker...
Upon their sonorous announcement, he winces inwardly
...Quite the shouter also.
”Seems like there’s a guest for ye.”
"And he sounds miffed at you. That or he just naturally sounds angry."
Not long after the message was sent out, Kurgan entered the tavern. The door flew up, having been pushed harder than was intended, revealing the smiling face of a dwarf. Kurgan looked around, and spotting Talliree, he bellowed "Oi! There's me bonny lass, eh? Ye remember old Kurgan, aye?"
As an outsider in Waterdeep, Kurgan had operated out of the poorer quarters for city, seeking work where he could. Unfortunately this put him in the territory of the Crimson Breakers. While he never ran with them, he was victimized by the group, with their enforcers demanding a tithe of his product. Something they would do in large enough groups for the dwarf to know better than to be obstinate about. Of the Breakers, the only one who ever struck him as being a good sort was Talliree.
"Heard ye *broke* away from the Crimsons, eh? S'true that this 'ere place is yers?" He asked. Then, noticing Mitchell for the first time, he said "Oh! Sorry there, lad. S'cuse me manners. Name's Kurgan! Brewer by trade, drinker by birth." Seeing his noble bearing he hesitated to extend his hand, not wanting hurt Talliree's business by offending a nobleman.
Mitchell starts as the door to the tavern slams open, his hands automatically reaching for his sword. He quickly looks to Talliree to see what her reaction to the Dwarf's appearance might be. "Uh... Hello.... He then looks back and forth between his partner and the loud dwarf. "Umm we're not open for business yet, might I suggest another tavern to wet your whistle"?
@Kurgen>>: "Oh. So you are not here to drink Sorry for my mistake. Your skills would certainly be welcome, and if Talliree trusts you then so do I". The big noble then walks forward and extends his hand in welcome to the Dwarf, before showing him the bar, and where the storage areas for supplies were.
Mitchell starts as much as Kurgen when he hears another knock at the door, then rushes forward eagerly as he recognizes both the tone, and volume of the speaker. Before he even gets to the door he begins speaking as he knocks over a barstool, and dislodges a chair in his rush to greet his old friend. "Jasper"? He then slings open the door automatically adjusting his gaze to the proper level. "Jasper Silvereye. As I live and breathe. It is so good to see you old friend... and you bring not only gifts, but a friend as well". Mitchell then smiles at the elf carrying some of Jaspers goods.
He is a bit confused by the presence of the lamplighters guild, but he had actually spoken to this one a few times in the past due to his unusual background for a lamplighter.
"Please come in. I know the place is a bit rundown... but we've dealt with some unfortunate circumstances, and now everything is ready to move forward... with the right partners that is". Come on in and I'll introduce you".
Mitchell motions to Talliree. "This is Talliree my friend and partner in ownership". He then gestures towards the Dwarf scrubbing down things behind the bar. "This gentleman is Kurgan. He's recently been hired on as our brewmaster and barkeep, and is already proving himself a hard worker".
"Let's sit and catch up for a moment, before we discuss business, perhaps you could introduce me to your helper"?
Kurgan had been cleaning a mug with a rag, and stopped to wave at the newcomers, a friendly smile on his face.
Talliree turns to greet the newcomers and freezes as she sees the uniform worn by Jasper Silvereye. The right corner of her mouth twitches as she slowly begins making her way to the kitchen and the door leading out of the other side of the manor.
There was the sound of a barstool clunking against the ground followed by the sound of a chair being displaced. Humans and their long gaits. Elves with their long gaits. Dwarves and gnomes were reasonable at least. The door opens and Jasper's big grin was spread acorss his face as he looked up at the paladin. The human certainly looked older, having grown into his age a little bit more from the last time that the two of them met.
"Mitchell! It is good to see you too. What would a new venture be without food and merriment?" Jasper said with a laugh, looking back at the lamplighter beside him. "He was kind enough to carry the bread and I invited him to eat with us. You can't enjoy a good jam without good bread. Then you want variety with cheese. Meat always goes well with cheese as well. Then a little bit of fresh fruit to refresh the palette. So...I brought it all." His eyes widen as he meets Talliree's gaze, a gasp leaving him as he was suddenly struck with a realization.
"Good sir, I had never asked your name. My sincerest apologies. I was so focused on making sure nothing touched the dirty ground that I forgot myself. Jasper Silvereye, a pleasure." The uniform he wore was the sleek black accented with gold, the symbols upon it identifying him as a vigilant of the Watch, a sergeant in other words. The uniform fit him perfectly, though it was not as tidy as those focused on decorum would hope. There had been small alterations here and there to adjust for his armor preference and mobility. Walking in with Mitchell's permission, he would hop up and place the various jars of jam, bags of smoked meat and cheese, and bit of fruit that he had at home onto the table. He turned after brushing his hands off to look at the two of them that were already there with the young nobleman.
The little halfling would look over the two of them for a moment and for the observant, there was only the slightest furrow of his brow as his memory kicked in. It was gone in a moment though and his smile returned to its former strength. "Talliree and Kurgan? A pleasure to meet you both. Please, come and eat." The half-elf began to move through the way and his smile grew a little softer as he hopped up in his chair. "Excuse me, Miss Talliree? Please come and try my family's jam. It is the closest we could ever get to the warmth of Yondalla herself. Please, I have just quit the force when I heard about the wonderful business opportunity that you and Mitchell had found. I would love to hear the story from you. Waukeenar tend to be a little dry." He said with a wink to Mitchell.
Tullowvaen enters with a nod of greeting, then follows Jasper's lead in depositing the loaves and preserves he was lumbered assisting with.
When presented to the company he bows slightly;
"Greetings once again Master Cloudkeep, I thank you for your hospitality. Good day to you both Master Kurgan and Mistress Talliree. I am Tullowvaen; proud member of the Guild of Chandlers and Lamplighters, completing what is my final act of service..."
He pauses, as if mulling the gravity of the words he has spoken. The tall Sun elf reaches for a scroll case from his belt and retrieves one of two documents.
"The Master of Flame bade me give you all this..."
Offering it to Mitchell he succinctly explains;
"A summarisation of the guild's services and goods. Candles, tallow, lamp lighting and maintenance. All abodes need illumination both inside and out do they not? Our guild offer both. Please do not baulk at the costs... The fees are befitting the exemplar service and wares our members provide."
The elf's eyes take in the surroundings and décor of the tavern and he awaits a reaction...
Rundown? Ramshackle would perhaps be a more befitting description. Still they seem fair folk.
The half-elf began to move through the way and his smile grew a little softer as he hopped up in his chair. "Excuse me, Miss Talliree? Please come and try my family's jam. It is the closest we could ever get to the warmth of Yondalla herself. Please, I have just quit the force when I heard about the wonderful business opportunity that you and Mitchell had found. I would love to hear the story from you. Waukeenar tend to be a little dry."
Talliree yelps as she sees Jasper focusing on her. It wouldn't take someone with his training to see the young half-elf is well beyond nervous. Hearing that the halfling is no longer in the guard's employ does help her relax a little. Sheepishly, she joins the others at the table and fixes a slice of bread with some jam and one of the creamier cheeses.
"Well, if you want know how we wound up owning this place, I guess it'd be rude of me not to make it entertaining." She nibbles the bread as she thinks back over all that had happened since meeting Volo in the Yawning Portal. As she begins, she fixes Mr. Whiskers a mouse-sized slice of bread with a sliver of apple.
"So, we'd just gotten back from this job that had us goin' all over the place. The long story short of that one was it was a bust and the guy refused to pay us even though it was his own fault. The others were in the Yawning Portal while I was getting some fresh air (few too many in love with their own musk in that place sometimes.) I come back in an' find the others talkin' up this statue o' a half-orc woman..." Talliree launches into the tale of how the party had been hired to find one of Volo's friends by the man himself after they'd help fight a troll that had come up through the Yawning Portal of the Yawning Portal. True to form, at least before learning the house was haunted by an evil hag, as Talliree gets into the story, she gets more animated and flamboyant in her telling. After a couple of hours, she finishes telling the newcomers about the fight that exorcised the hag's spirit from the place. "... And after that the place returned to normal. Hob and Himo left to take up some family business, then y'all showed up."
As the morning light lengthens, workers begin trickling in , saying hello to Talliree and Mitchell the moving on to other parts of the Manor.
Soon the sound of hammer and saw drift down from the upper stories as the three newcomers acquaint themselves with the Masters of Trollskull Manor.
As Kurgan stands behind the bar, 'someone' or 'something' unseen takes the clean mug he's placed on the bar and places it in a nearby rack.
Jasper's provisions cascade across the table, one particular half-wheel of cheese seeks to escape to the floor. But, as it topples into the air, it floats back up onto the table.
From where he is nibbling his tasty treat, Mr Whiskers raises his little nose and twitches his whiskers at the empty air beside the table.
Kurgan blinked in confusion when he saw a clean mug place itself on a rack. Then a smile crossed his face and he laughed. With a shake of his head he went back to work, muttering "This is me kind of place."
Jasper sits transfixed the entire time, listening and eating enough food that anyone his size should probably be full and then some. The hours pass by and Jasper only stops them for a moment to make them all some tea to help as the night drags onwards. Enraptured though, he claps at the end of the story and lets out a breathing.
"What a harrowing tale you all have been through. A shame about your friends leaving but I am certain they know what is best for them. Thank you for telling us your story." It is around then that workers begin to make their way into the manor and begin getting to work. A cheese wheel gets loose and nearly falls onto the dirty, dusty floor before stopping in the air and floating back up onto the table. The halfling looks incredulously at the mouse and then at those who are nearby, his smile wide as he gestures to the air. "Amazing! Could it be a friendly haunting? That will certainly catch attention as a tavern, my friends." Jasper exclaims before looking at empty space. "Thank you."
From there, Jasper gets to work getting acquainted with the manor itself. Noting any signs of damage that may have been missed, the industrious halfling begins itemizing things and conferring with Mitchell to see what work has already been done and what else needs to be done.
"That's Lif. He ran the tavern before Volo got the place. Lif, these fellas are here to help out. Fellas, this is Lif. He's friendly once you get to know him," Talliree says. Her voice is bright and cheerful as she gives introductions.
Mitchell notices the interaction from their invisible host/guest, as he goes over some sketches and plans with Jasper, expressing his astonishment at the cost of some of the upgrades.
"You are welcome to pick out a room to stay in during the renovations. I've reserved the Attic suite, but there are plenty of other empty rooms. Especially now with the others leaving".
"A right good lad he is. A'int never had a spectre help run a place before. He talks to us at all? Oi, Lif! Mighty well appreciate yer help." The dwarf said, looking around, as if though by doing so he might see the ghost. "Anythin' ye like in return? Like leavin' out a mug o' grog for ye or the like?" Then to the others, he said with a shrug "Doesn't seem right for the lad to work for nothin'."
"Huh, Maybe we should get a bottle of everything we're thinking about servin' and set 'em out to see what he likes and doesn't," Talliree says. "I would see if he could write it out, but he didn't seem interested in writing the last time I tried that. He may have been messing with me, though."
Mr. Whiskers, having thoroughly enjoyed the treats Jasper had brought with him, snoozes contentedly in his little hiding place in Talliree's cloak.
"Lif, you say? How wonderful. Thank you Lif." The amiable halfling says to the air. He quickly returns to looking over the plans and expected costs of restoring Trollskull Manor to its prime. It was expensive but a hell of a pig to put makeup on as well.
"Yup! Lif's a pretty good guy!"
After the work of the day was done and the guildsmen gone, Talliree looks for an opportunity to catch Jasper alone.
"Y-yer not gonna turn me in, right," she asks. Her shoulders hunch as she waits for Jasper's answer.
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Jasper was just finishing up a meal when Talliree caught him alone, the halfling's face looking up as she murmured her question. He watched her for just a moment, finishing his cup of ale that had been expertly poured by Kurgan earlier before motioning to the chair that was right there in front of him. He offered some of his desert bread and jam, gently making her a slice that oozed with delicious goodness if she wanted. Taking a bit of his own, he let the moment between them sit for just a moment while he gave her a smile.
"I remember you. The Alven Dorse case, nasty business it was. It reeked of the Crimson Breaker's new style of dealing with others and you were a prime suspect. You were seen in the area, the alibis didn't work well for you, and the Watch considered it an easy case closed. I don't like easy though. I remember you sitting there, that tired...sad look on your face. We didn't talk, I merely listened, but I could hear it in your voice that you were haunted by this. You didn't shake with the adrenaline and fear of a first kill nor was there the calm, practiced mask either. You were...a kid. A kid in the wrong place at the wrong time." Jasper finished his piece of break, licking his fingers a moment afterwards as he shook his head.
"I was careful. You had a lot of friends who were and are still on your side. They wouldn't give you up easily but it took some convincing, a few acts of goodwill, and a charming smile to get the truth. You wanted out. So I looked into another case; a beaten thug by the name of Farlo Hen. He was young too but...you could see the choice he was making. A killer always gives it away in the eyes. Someone had beaten him to a pulp but the weapon on him? It had the same vicious serration that matched the throat wounds on Alven Dorse. He said he just found the knife, that it wasn't his, but it was enough for a magistrate to move onto sentencing. It was hard work, late nights, but I remember seeing you leaving the jail cells. You looked...alive. Truly alive." The way the halfling says it shows the pride he had at that moment; a job well done. Jasper would hop off of his seat, moving around towards Talliree before looking up at her. Despite his diminutive stance, his eyes had that quality that he could just look right through a person. "You still don't have those eyes. They're not cold. They've seen a lot of bad, bad I'm sure you were part of and regret. We all make mistakes, it is up to us to decide what we'll do going forward. Running a tavern ain't a bad decision."
[b]"C'mon, I'm stuffed and ready for bed. You coming?" Jasper says after patting Talliree's leg and turning towards the staircase, all the while whistling a soft tune that now sounded vaguely familiar.
Talliree quietly accepts the unspoken invitation to sit and have a slice of the bread he had been enjoying. As the silence grows longer between, them, she does a fair imitation of a mouse and nibbles her bread. The smile he gives her helps, calming her nerves and keeping them from tightening.
No amount of good will could keep her from flinching at the mention of Alven Dorse's murder. She'd been looking to talk to Farlo, and she stumbled right into the scene of the man's murder just moments before the guard had come running. It was the only time she'd been arrested, and the experience had not been pleasant. After running from the Crimson Breakers, she'd been feeling joyful, but then to wind up accused of a murder she hadn't committed had nearly crushed her. She's wondered why they'd let her go.
Now she knows.
Jasper can see confusion, gratitude, and relief. Relief not just at hearing she isn't about to be clapped in irons, but at hearing that one of the people who'd most like to stick a dagger in her back is no longer in a position to even attempt it.
Jasper barely has time to turn before Talliree is on her knees behind him and wrapping her arms around him.
"Thank you," she whispers.
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The hug was sudden and Jasper was jostled in the half-elf's surprisingly strong arms. He turns in her grip for a moment, his smile warm and welcoming as he puts an arm around her and returns the hug with a tightness that couldn't meet her strength but held just as much adoration in it.
"I was just doing my job, nothing more." Jasper murmured, looking down at her. His smile becomes a little smirk as he peeks over his shoulder. "You might want to let me go though, don't know if you have a reputation or anything to maintain, yeah?" There was a quick wink and when she let him go, he would adjust his ruffled clothing for just a moment. "I knew you to be a good one and I am glad I wasn't wrong. I know Kurgan has been the nemesis of many different bars here in Waterdeep; I think I actually picked him up once but I don't think he remembers me. Thought I was just a young human." Jasper says with a chuckle.
"Just know I run a tight ship. I expect those I work with to be at their very best, performing their very best. If you give that to me and to this tavern, I'll go all the way to Nessus itself and tap Asmodeus on the balls for you. Now come on, got to make sure those workers keep at work."
"I'm just a mouse off the streets," Talliree says as she lets Jasper go. She chuckles at the thought of her, of all people, having a reputation worth protecting. "I promise you that I'll do my best to help run this place, and I'll try to keep Kurgan from decking anyone. Hopefully a cute girl asking nicely will do the trick. I just need to get something besides, well, this." She gestures to her clothes, which are sturdy, but not anything close to fashionable or well made. "Anyway, aren't all the workers gone? I thought they left a while ago?"
"For tomorrow, my friend. To direct the workers tomorrow. We can't expect Lif to do all the heavy lifting, right?" Jasper offers with a grin, looking her over for a moment. "I am certain Mitchell has some connections with the tailor guilds and can fetch us higher quality fabric for decent coin. You and I will both look the part well within here. I feel Kurgan looks exactly as you would want a barkeep to look."
”Dashing, handsome, irresistibly charming? Aye, if ye say so.” He said, nodding with a serious look on his face.
Finding the clouds over her mood lifting, Talliree chuckles, then sees that for once, she's the tallest person in the room, and starts to laugh and has to lean on Kurgan for support.
"Oh yes, I think we're going to get along splendidly!"
Mitchell seems to be harried, and unable to concentrate on one thing as he scurries back and forth between the upstairs rooms, the basement under renovation, the kitchen the bar and everywhere else making sure there is nothing out of sorts... too bad. He acknowledges the others as he rushes by, but doesn't pause to engage in conversation... too busy!
Jasper positively jumps when he hears Kurgan on the other side of the bar, moving over and peeking over the side of the counter.
"Ah! Kurgan, my friend! I was looking for you! I wanted to go over the offers from a few of the different glassmaker guilds that are competing for out patronage. I'd like your professional opinion on them. The Tahavee Guild has a cloudy glass that I think could survive the impact upon the ground though it..." The conversation grows muted as Jasper takes up Kurgan's time with a variety of sample glasses for them to peruse, the seriousness of the conversation seemingly disappearing in moments.
There was always more work to do at Trollskull Manor.