"No it was not as well versed as it should have been. My teachers always scolded me for my words. They said I lacked the nessacary tools to speak like a leader or even a priest. So I was tested and chosen..." She stopped and then blushed deeply as she pulled up her scarf to hide her face.
"No...It could've been better! Though the kids and the others will be given some normalcy. I will make sure to perform tonight for the people." Faidh says a bit shocked her speech worked she wasn't the Champion the people had wanted. She was constantly told she would suffice but hopefully another would rise to take her place.
"Ye're bein' too harsh on yerself lass - everythin' we do can always be better" - the dwarf grumbled - "Trick is doin' yer best in that moment, and dat ye did" - he added with a wink.
Baldo, the smith, is overjoyed at once to meet Akkramar. Bearded himself, and rather stout, he looks the part of a dwarf and Akkramar soon learns that he is an admirer of the dwarven pantheon. At the mention of divinely blessed smithing going on , the man does not hesitate to volunteer a request for an item of which the village is in need. A plow.
Akkramar dedicates himself to the task of aiding Baldo until full completion of the plow, then he goes looking for Faidh - "I'm thinkin' we should perhaps aid with the watches tonight, or at least for a part of it no?" - he grunts.
Melira observes the twinkling in the log carefully. Covered with leaves, and it has been so, and undisturbed, long enough for them to frost in place.
Considering the circumstance just one moment longer, Melira steps forward quickly and collects the treasure. "Let's hurry, before those guards at the gate start moving again."
"And I'm definitely keeping the scroll case for myself." She gulps, wondering what it will cost her.
Bez nods, allowing a genuine and non-sardonic smile to ripple across his face. "You earned it," he says, and then the dark humor that's never too far beneath the surface bubbles up in his coppery features. "Well, the best way to find treasure at this mansion, I reckon, is to find items that previous treasure hunters left upon their demise."
Bez scouts ahead a bit.
"A full pack often attracts unwanted attention." Melira smirks lightly, though her face is relatively blank.
She waits for Bez to go first.
Fiadh will help the villagers she came with get the resources they need as she then at night took up her violin and began to play some more of her Fey Music.
At night as Faidh plays, the kids from Bridgetown approach her. The eldest sister speaks while the snot nosed kid cowers behind her grinning nervously.
”Madame Knight, some of our people have been talking to the villagers of Cat’s Wife. Half of our people want to continue on to Endhome, and half want to stay here and become farmers and fishers. What do you think we should do? We’ve never been away from home before we don’t know where we will feel safe. Do you think those bone dwarf’s and flying shadows will follow us here?”
Vex tips the nod toward the fat half orc;
"Indeed Master Roark. Roast mutton sounds most perfect. Once you let me know when the ale is ready we can toast your tusks and my horns."
"If they think they can have a better life here, then I am glad. As for the Shadowy forces....Not sure. I would think that they are more against just the village itself and not its people." Faidh says with a big smile showing her tooth gap. She prayed to the Goddess that it was true, but until they got to the city with its resources she wouldn't know for sure.
Vex tips the nod toward the fat half orc;
[dice=History DC10 (Advantage)]1d20+2+2
"Indeed Master Roark. Roast mutton sounds most perfect. Once you let me know when the ale is ready we can toast your tusks and my horns."
Roark pours the ale and before long a gnome with an apron and an eyepatch brings out the food.
"Crickets! You look like the paintings on the walls! Are ye cursed man?" The gnome sets down the food at the end of the bar keeping a safe distance from Vex.
The gnome gawks at Vex.
The half-orc reaches across the bar and slides the food within reach. His expression is inscrutable.
The ale has a decent head of foam.
"If they think they can have a better life here, then I am glad. As for the Shadowy forces....Not sure. I would think that they are more against just the village itself and not its people." Faidh says with a big smile showing her tooth gap. She prayed to the Goddess that it was true, but until they got to the city with its resources she wouldn't know for sure.
The kids nod earnestly, and scurry back to the others.
The people of Bridgetown settle in for the night in the hay barns , sleeping on the bails. Many of the Cat’s Wife villagers gather for Faidh’s musical performance. The mood is hopeful. Compared to the last week this is comfort.
When the morning comes, the refugees of Bridgetown are divided. Roughly half have decided to stay on, and adapt to rural village life, which is not so different from where they are from. Fishing and farming. The others, many of them traders, wish to try their fortunes in Endhome.
The kids tell Faith they will continue on to the city since she will be there at least for the rest of the trip.
Faidh smiles at the children and nods."Endhome it is. I will try and keep in touch. Tell me your names and I will remember them. I will even support you when I can"
Faidh will make sure her and the dog stay close to the children that night. She has kinda warmed up to them and felt like she should be responsible of them.
Bez and Melira make their way back from the mansion, down the road from the orchard’s back to Grollek’s Grove.. As they approach the boarding house where they had checked in earlier , they see a carriage with horses being led to the stables.
There is a new guest being checked in. Tall, slender.
Faidh smiles at the children and nods."Endhome it is. I will try and keep in touch. Tell me your names and I will remember them. I will even support you when I can"
Faidh will make sure her and the dog stay close to the children that night. She has kinda warmed up to them and felt like she should be responsible of them.
The eldest girl speaks for all all of them, as usual.
”I am Estrid and she is Olly. Our shy brother is Jak. We are honored to know you, Madame Knight.”
The young boy standing safely behind his sisters, nods his little round head. ”Honored.” he repeats softly.
You can tell someone taught them a certain set of manners. They are a little formal with you but they hang on your every word, and their relief when you pay attention to them is palpable.
"that fellow appears to have had his head sewed back on. Undead friend of our friend back at the academy?" Bez says this all in a low, conversational tone, not wanting to bring attention to himself or Melira, smiling and looking into her eyes. "It will be so nice to relax at the inn with you, darling. Perhaps we'll run into 'friends' in the common room." And stab them, his eyes say with a flash.
" You can call me Fiadh. If you want you can help me come up with a name for my dog friend. Though I'll use my native tongues word." Fiadh says to Estrid, Only amd Jak.
Fiadh will take the rest of the journey to learn and talk with these three children. Try to figure out who we're thier parents, what sorts of things so they know, what are thier hobbies, thier dreams. As well as play and joke with them.
"Friend of a friend? No. He is our friend. Or rather, he isn't." Melira's lips turn downwards into a frown. So they are chasing me after all. Or just following the prophecy. "You know, darling, this friend of ours..." she leans in to whisper in his ear, "Has a habit of showing up at my room uninvited. Mayhaps we can be the ones to do the surprising, perhaps a little something in his carriage?" Melira hangs back, away from the boarding house, planning to circle around to the stables unobtrusively.
Vex chuckles at the gnome's comment;
"Accursed? Haha. Not at the present my friend. It would seem here I enjoy good fare and fare company..."
He nods toward the half-orc and digs into the food.
"What paintings does my little admirer speak of Master Roark?'
The rogue eyes the fullheaded ale, wondering if it too will be presented to him like the food.
Bez gives a throaty growl in return. "Darling, you've read my mind." He takes Melira arm in arm (loosely) and does his best tipsy stumble towards the stables for what appears for all intents and purposes to be plans for a roll in the hay, instead of swords and haymakers.
The stable hands turn toward the pair of would-be lovers. ”Ho there! Can we help you? I don’t recall checking in your horse.”
They are two boys of 19 or 20 years, one strapping , one wiry. They look like they may have been in a tussle or two. It is a major trade road with all sorts of traffic after all.
The stables are a ways off from the lodging. They have a careful wary air about them, not as relaxed as the servants who work close to the hearth and bustle of community.
Their noses are a bit red in the chill air.
"I don't recall asking you to get drunk as a lord on the job, but here we are, my dear varlets," says Bez smoothly. "You be on your way and pay us no mind, and we'll do the same for you."
Melira frowns sternly, trying to help make Bez's case seem more logical.
Akkramar checks in on the children and Faidh every once in a while, but in general tends to move along the refugee survivors as they continue on their journey - offering words of support, treating sore feet, tired muscles, and broken spirits as best as he can. And he never hesitates in using his magic when needed, keeping everyone as healthy and strong as he can.
While Akkramar tends to the physical toils, Faidh focuses on the spirit of those around her. She tries to keep them up performing at night and trying to paint a picture to those who came to her.
It was taxing, but she told them to trust in themselves and thank the gods that they were alive and could rebuild in a city with thick walls and guards.
[dice=Insight]1d20 + 2
"I don't recall asking you to get drunk as a lord on the job, but here we are, my dear varlets," says Bez smoothly. "You be on your way and pay us no mind, and we'll do the same for you."
[dice=Persuasion]1d20 + 2
The lads sniff and wipe their drippy noses in the cold air.
”No we was just passing by. Nothing in there but smelly hay anyway. Just ‘avin a lark…”
They stumble off leaving the stables unguarded. The stables are a standard affair with a loft that covers half the breadth of the building, a ladder up the right hand side. Hay bails everywhere, 5 horses stabled on the ground floor. Only one stall vacant, making it plain to see where the dark elf visitors mount will be boarded.
After a moment the valet from the tavern can be heard outside along with the squeak of wagon wheels and the comp of hooves . ”Here we are, the stables. You can retrieve your mount after you’ve rested, I’ll show you where he’ll be kept just inside here. Now are you sure you’re alright mister? You look like death warmed over. No offense intended…”
It sounds as if the valet is conversing with the dead dark elf pyromancer, and they are just outside.
Bez hurries to the loft, pointing at it for Melira's benefit, intending to hide up there.
About one third of the refugees decide to stay and set up their new life in Cat’s Wife. The rest travel on with the priest and the knight to Endhome. Within three more days the city of Endhome comes into view . No further encounters on the road, not even an armed patrol or a merchant caravan.
Along with the sight of Endhome comes the smell of salt, the sound of gulls, and the vista of the great eastern sea. The terrain becomes rockier, saltier, different vegetation.
Endhome is a sight to behold. Walled and fortified , it is truly an intercontinental trade hub.
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Melira scurries up into the hay loft after Bez, moving fast and quiet.
As she climbed the ladder, Melira's mind went to work. What now? If we steal his horse and make off in the night, we might slow him down enough that he can't catch us. On the other hand, we might get caught stealing his horse, and he could probably just buy one of these other ones. Melira settles in behind a bale of hay, near Bez. What if we can sabotage his carriage. Maybe cut an axle or something. Ideally we could saw it partway so it broke the moment he went over a stiff bump. Then he'd be stuck a little way out on the road and have to walk back to town if he wanted to get it fixed. She checked her weapons idly, trying not to make the slightest noise. But we'd have to saw it just right. Leave it too thick and it wouldn't break, cut it too thin and it might snap while he's still in town. And we'd have no way of knowing if we cut it just right. She glanced around the barn for anything serrated. It would be so much easier to just kill him again.
Do I even want to run off into the night right now? Melira's feet didn't hurt from walking anymore, but she was exhausted. The combat at the manor had taken one of her spells, and she desperately needed to sleep and process everything that had happened. I want to walk right back inside, order myself a hot meal and a pleasant drink, and settle into sheets in a bed someone else made for me.
I suppose he might be a stronger fighter, now that he's dead. And he might have some surprises in that carriage of his. Maybe we can hide up here until they head out, eat some of those foods from that leaf thing, and take a nap. That idea didn't sound so bad. It didn't involve moving anywhere or doing anything right away. It's not so uncomfortable up here. Then we can sneak up to the carriage and see what's inside before making any decisions that might get us killed.
"So this is the Sea, I have never seen the Sea" Faidh says as she stands next to Akkramar as she overlooks the city. She had not really come this far but had been to a city.
"Smells strange"
Bez seems to sense Melira's thoughts and nods.
He points to the hay in the loft and nestles down in it, then points to his eyes (open) and mouth (closed) and gives a coppery thumbs up and a wink.
"So this is the Sea, I have never seen the Sea" Faidh says as she stands next to Akkramar as she overlooks the city. She had not really come this far but had been to a city.
"You and me both lass - it does look impressive I have ta say" - the dwarf nods at the sight of the city and the sea - "And now I'm guessin' ye need ta use yer magic words, and convince some sort of official ta help these people" - he adds, pragmatic as always - "And perhaps send someone to check on what is going on at their hometown - other settlements may be in danger"
"Magic words? I just spoke up. You do have a point though. We need to get these people settled and also see if they can send out scouts to settlements. Something dark is brewing, and it needs to be investigated"She says as she strokes her chin.
"I should probably not look like this though. I mean not a lot of people are comfortable with my well, visage. Not in a bad way mind you but more of a well, awkward and unsure manner." Faidh says to her stout companion as she then looks back to the remaining refugees.
"Seems I am the defacto leader doesn't it." She sighed and then chuckled as she remembered this all started with a trip to the fey market for ingrediants.
Bez and Melira are in a hay loft. The barn itself i Isabel, with capacity for 6 hoses on the ground floor. The loft covers half the area. In over words, half the floor plan has a loft above it, the other half has a clear view up on the pitched ceiling. There is plenty of concealment in the loft. As it happens , there are tools around, including a saw.
The nervous valet enters below, blowing into his cupped hands before him. Behind him comes the dark elf. He moves differently than before, none of the nervous energy. His face is grim, emotionless. Those scars. Stitched over like the work of the morgue. The valet leads the horse to the stall.
”Do you need anything from the saddlebags , mister?”
Rhendlyth ignores the question, and answers with his own. [b]”Have any other travelers from Endhome checked in recently?” His voice does not resemble that of the pyromancer from the fight at the academy. You remember his nervous fearful demeanor. All that is gone. The man before you is focused, unflinching, void of emotion.
"Seems I am the defacto leader doesn't it." She sighed and then chuckled as she remembered this all started with a trip to the fey market for ingrediants.
"That I do not know lass - ye'll have to ask the trail of refugees following in yer tow" - he laughs.
Bez stays as silent as possible, listening and waiting.
The valet shifts a bit , looking uncomfortable . ”Well, you know my friend, this is a well travelled road. Some of our customers prefer a bit of privacy. Discretion… That’s the way of the road. I’m sure you understand.”
The grim dark elf silently upends a pouch and shakes it spilling silver out onto the hay covered floor. He continues shaking it til it is empty. Coins rolling everywhere. Some spinning. He makes no effort to fill the awkward silence with nervous speech. He just stands there expressionless, waiting for a report.
The valet nervously starts collecting the coins and suddenly freezes. From the hay loft Bez and Melira can see a dozen daggers of purple translucent necrotic energy materialize in the air and dart down to cluster along the back of the squatting valet, pricking him through his chore coat.
”The travelers from Endhome. Describe them.” the dark elf says flatly.
The valet stammers. ”A strange man with features from the seven hells was here. Well dressed, like a dandy, but something not quite on the up and up about him. And a sweet girl, elvish blood, not quite bookish but maybe an inquisitive sort… They went to investigate the manor. That’s all I know. They should be checking back in tonight.”
The knives drill in a bit deeper.
”Room number.”
”It wasn’t fixed yet. They’d have to take the last one with an added cot, it’s the only vacancy…. The one upstairs above the hearth. Please can i…”
The last request is cut short as the daggers plunge. There is no sign of blood as the valet goes stiff and collapses into the hay, a silver clutched in his hand.
"Thanks for that humbling blow, Let us head in and find a place to bed for the night. So many will not go unnoticed."Faidh says as she continues to lead the throng into the city.
Should she be stopped at the gate she was going over what she would say to those there about such a large and unkempt group of people.
Bez mimes to Melira with deft hand motions.
One. He lifts a finger, and points to a torch in his pack.
Two. He lifts a second finger and points to the carriage and makes the sign for cracking the reins.
Bez is uncomfortably aware that, as a city boy of little coin, he has never driven a wagon before, let alone a full carriage. Occasionally robbing them (not always that easy) is the length and breadth of his experience in the matter.
Melira's drowsiness quickly disappears as the violence unfolds before her. Watching Bez mime out silently, she cocks her head to one side. Does he want to set the whole place on fire right now? Figuring that he would prefer to wait, Melira does as well, hoping that the dark elf will leave soon so they can get to work.