The merchant says, "I've got waterskins at 6 SP each but no barrels."
With that the merchant says he is closing his shop for the evening.
Two acolytes from the shrine walk out and declare to Iz, "We are closed. Now go away."
We're here, I'm ready for a bath and a room, anyone know if they have a stable. I'm getting feed bag of oats and molasses and salt block for Kelpie. Also need her rubbed down and grooming. Need her saddle cleaned and rubbed with oil, That sand is into everything. After getting cleaned up, getting a good bottle of wine, a plate of stew and a good book to fall asleep with.
I go into the Inn and the place is packed with the guys from the caravans and some locals, but I also noticed someone sitting in the corner out of place here, a sailor from either Freeport or Razor's Coast, hmm, will have to get her story before I head up.
The inn is full of dervishes, 7 drovers, 9 mercenary guards, Verdonitii, Monk4, Vastavaar Speartongue, Haltashaar, and Auroka the flailer. There are also two women each sitting alone, 2 men also and the bartender/owner who is 6'4" 250 lbs. At the bar are three men talking with the bartender.
Two acolytes from the shrine walk out and declare to Iz, "We are closed. Now go away."
”Of course, my friend. No offense meant,” he said with a bow to the acolytes. He straightened up and inquired, ”When will the shrine be open for worship?”
Iz sees an old man walking from the shrine to the hovel. About halfway there he turns to Iz and says, "Well hello, how are you? I always welcome visitors."
At last a friendly face. The large man nodded to the old man, ”Mitra’s blessing upon you father,” he said in greeting. I am Iz-dubar humble servant of he who shines upon us with justice.” He waved his arm towards the others, ”and these are my companions.”
He continued, ”Pray tell what is the name of this town. We have gotten turned around in a sandstorm and seek to get our bearings?”
"Come, yes, come to our father's shrine. I am the prefect Cornelius. Mitra's Fist has been my station these last 20 years." He stops and inspects Iz-dubar's vestments, "What are you, a paladin, a priest? I have been rather out of touch it seems. Never mind these young acolytes. They mean well, but sometimes they can get a bit overprotective!" He leads you into the shrine area. Inside, a large white marble statue of Mitra dominates the circular, domed chapel. It depicts Mitra as a well formed, Adonis like youth, crushing the head of a serpent.
You see the ring he is wearing and for a second it brings back the dream of the lion faced bartender.
”Many thanks Prefect Cornelius. I am a part of the martial arm of Mitra’s clergy,” he responded as they walked into the shrine.
He marveled at the statue, ”Impressive. I would like leave an offering and give prays and thanks for the blessings Mitra’ has showered upon his humble servants.”
"You are welcome here at anytime. Just beware those that worship the god of snakes."
”Once again many thanks Prefect. I do not abide or freely associate with the serpent’s minions. Are there many worshipers of the forked tongued god here about?” he asked with a righteous fervor shining in his eyes.
He pulls you close "There is a secret entrance into the tunnel below the village, under the front two pews of the shrine."
”And this tunnel leads where?” he asked conspiratorially.
Pleased at how well the group dispatched the scorpions Ratel returned to his wagon. As they traveled, he contemplated how well Iz-dubar had used his longsword. His title of 'warpriest' was warranted, truly gifted of Mitra. Watching the windstorm, Ratel covers his face with his turban. As they stop in the pass, he gets down off of the wagon and attempts to keep the horses calm. As the storm passes and they prepare to leave he learns that the water and food had been damage. Mentally shrugging he know brvheart Mitra would provide, smirking to himself when they hear about the city from the rider. Taking his place on the wagon, he nods in agreement with the princess. Speaking as much to himself as anyone, "Yes, let us make our way to this village and see what Mitra has provided."
As the wagon comes to a stop he stands looking about the village. Recognizing the shrine as one belonging to the Lord of Light, Ratel notices Iz-dubar heading that way. Leaving the wagon and stock to the drover, he gathers his rucksack and bardiche following the warpriest. Watching as the two acolytes approach Iz-dubar, he quickens his pace to catch up with his fellow traveler. Frowning at the two acolytes response to his companion Ratel notices the old man walking towards them.
Standing behind the warpriest Ratel nods at the Prefect's greeting. Not wanting to be impolite, he did not interrupt the conversation, only chuckling as the Prefect told them to beware of those who worship 'Set.' Raising an eyebrow as the Prefect shared with them the location of the secret entrance, Ratel looked from the Prefect to the warpriest, then back again, leaning in conspiratorially, asking: "Yes sahib, where does it lead?"
He stumbles a bit with his words almost whispering so the acolytes cannot hear, "The Tower, of course. Of that I can say no more."
Confused by the Prefect's concern over the acolytes listening, Ratel nods towards the Acolytes and asks. "Sahib, why are we concerned about sharing this information with our fellow brethren?"
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Iz-dubar watched the man closely.
He is suspicious of the acolytes.
"I have been here 20 years and none of them have aged a day. For that matter no one else in town seems to have either come to think of it...."
The acolytes appear to be in their early 20s.
Raising an eyebrow at the Prefects observation, Ratel turns towards the two acolytes. Looking first at the one on the left, then the one on the right, he moves his hand and speaking "buraee ka pata lagaen" he uses his ability to detect evil, looking at one then the other.
Frowning, Ratel looked from the acolytes back to the old man then Iz-dubar. Shaking his head, he knew he couldn't judge a man by what was in his heart. The law judged a man by his actions. Sighing he looks at the prefect, "Sahib, I think you are wise for not trusting them." He leaned in closer, remembering his dream, and whispers, "This tower, is it also called 'The White Tower?'
V11 is a 50' tall grey tower. Rather late in the day to check it down. The sun is going down.
V11 is a 50' tall grey tower. Rather late in the day to check it down. The sun is going down.
Tal'ariel stared down at the drink held between her hands. Her head throbbed, and she felt acid in her throat like she'd thrown up recently. Sh!+, you've done it again, Tal. What was she doing here? She searched her memory and was coming up short.
It felt like a moment ago, but maybe it was a lifetime ago. She had gotten that look from a man. Tall, dark, handsome, probably a native to these parts unlike herself. Tal was usually the shy, quirky girl who was left out. It was hard to fit in when you were a Diviner, when you just knew that the thing your body wanted to do was a horrible, horrible idea. But he--what was his name again?--he seemed like so much fun. And so Tal downed the grog in front of her, asked for another. And another. That was the way she knew how to let it go. They talked, they danced, they kissed, they . . . what did they do next? Tal wasn't sure. And then, she ended up . . . where? Here?
She looked around--no sign of the man. In a panic, she opened her Handy Haversack, but everything seemed to be there, meticulously organized in extradimensional space. At least she hadn't been robbed. But all the patrons were natives. She didn't even speak their language! And they all seemed a little weird. Or was that just the alcohol talking?
She looked around some more. A bunch of dervishes had walked in. More natives--that didn't help. And then she saw her. A half-elf! With white hair! And a fantastical hat! Like her kin had magically arrived to save her from her own stupidity. Alright, Tal, you can do this. Incredibly, she takes another drink--to summon some more courage--quickly tries to fix her messy, sand-tangled hair, straightens her clothes, and finally stands, walking slowly, gingerly to the woman. "Um, hi miss, I couldn't help but notice how remarkable you are. Mind if I join you?"
Jim dusted himself down before entering, the town (well more of village really) had an odd feel to it. It didn't seem the most welcoming of places, but for Jim that made it all the more interesting. Were the locals just taciturn and rude, or were they hiding something? Time would tell!
Fixing his best smile as he approached whoever seemed to be in charge, Jim asked, "How much for a room and how much for a bath?"
He then attempted to make some small talk anyone who would listen, hoping to get an idea what was on everyone's minds.
The bartender tells you 2 GP for a room and a bath. A woman with somewhat loose morals notices you and asks you to buy her a drink. Another man sits primarily slumped over the table in the corner or bar with a hand around his cup. He seems to be older than most of the other residents in the village, and can sometimes be heard muttering tearfully to no one particular. A half-orc brute sits alone in the center of the room. Ciri is talking with another woman.
Jim paid the gold and smiled at the woman but gave her a non-commitial answer, "Perhaps later, it's still a bit early for drinking."
He made his way over to the old man and addressed him gently, "Hello Sahib. You seem to carry the way of the world on your shoulders. If it would help I would lend you my ear... May I sit?"
Assuming the old timer lets him, Jim gently coaxes the story out of him. He had a feeling the man had lost family or somebody close to his heart.
The man puts his cup out and says, "Yeah, a drinnnnk, thhhaats whut Izze neeeed anuther drink...Gimme a drink nnn Ize tell ye alz u wantss to know..."
With that the three men that were talking with the bartender come up to the old man. "Ok, Beldar that is enough for one night. Let's get you to your room." With that they carry the man out.
The locals look at Slim Jim after his comment about being too early to drink and laugh. After that, no one will talk to him.
Nodding to the old man, Ratel spoke up, "Thank you Sahib." Pausing long enough to make sure that Iz-dubar was finished speaking with the prefect as well, he eventually pointed to the Inn, "Shall we join the others?"
As they moved towards the building, Ratel spoke softly, "Did you hear that? The locals have not aged since the Prefect has been here. Do you think that's possible? Or is he growing senile"
As the cool of the evening was coming on, Ratel was pleased to step into the warmth of the inn. Looking across the room he noticed Ciri sitting having a bowl of stew and wine. He then noticed another half elf moving over to speak with her. Turning to the Warpriest, he nodded the two ladies direction. "I'm going to ask Ciri if she minds if I join her. Will you join us or do you have something you need to do?"
Moving to the table, he bows slightly to Ciri, and asks, "Kuleen Mahila may I join you?" Turning to the other woman, he nods politely, but not as low as he'd done for the princess. "good evening Kumaaree, I am Ratel Dier humble servant of 'he who shines upon us with justice'."
It's my pleasure to meet you,, I am Dutchess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Princess, currently diposed Heir apparent of Cintra, Empress of Nilfgaard. I am a Student of the Arcane and a sword's woman
Daughter of Geralt Rivia and Yennefer Vengerberg, but my friends call me Ciri.
she gestures to both my Dear One and Tal to join her, as she seats herself
The bartender gives Thoron an ale. Gives one to Slim Jim, Ratel and half-orc also. Gives the women wine.
Beldar as he is being dragged off yells, "I'll turrn yoouse into a pack of mice...I am a rrrright powersssful wiizzard am I....
He looks at Slim and says, There is a gem as large as the outstretched span of a man's hand."
Wait, this is a real princess? As she listens to the apparent princess go on about her titles, Tal'ariel concludes that she is being totally serious. She returns the Princess's curtsy, clumsily, a bit unsteadily. "Oh, I hadn't realized you are royalty. It's an honor, um, Princes Cirilla?" She hoped she had picked the most impressive of the titles. "Really, truly an honor."
She looks at the Princess, then a little bit under her, not wanting to meet her gaze. "I'm Tal'ariel Rhuidon. Um, daughter of Sythaeryn Rhuidon, a blacksmith? Probably wasn't supposed to be born, definitely wasn't supposed to learn magic, but . . ." she shrugs and trails off. She then realizes that her lowered gaze has landed on Ciri's bosom, and quickly turns to accept the wine that has been offered by a bartender. She sniffs it and sighs, could she really turn down such a delicious treat, even in her state?
"Brother Dier, are you part of the Princess's holy guard?" she asks, trying to distract herself momentarily.
As the cool of the evening was coming on, Ratel was pleased to step into the warmth of the inn. Looking across the room he noticed Ciri sitting having a bowl of stew and wine. He then noticed another half elf moving over to speak with her. Turning to the Warpriest, he nodded the two ladies direction. "I'm going to ask Ciri if she minds if I join her. Will you join us or do you have something you need to do?"Moving to the table, he bows slightly to Ciri, and asks, "Kuleen Mahila may I join you?" Turning to the other woman, he nods politely, but not as low as he'd done for the princess. "good evening Kumaaree, I am Ratel Dier humble servant of 'he who shines upon us with justice'."
Iz-dubar entered the tavern with Ratel and stood in the entryway while his eyes adjusted to the dim interior light. As he stood there he is assaulted by the pungent smell of incense, spices, and sweat. Slowly he looked around the chaotic tavern, ”Many thanks my friend but no I will find a quiet table. I have much to consider after talking to the old Prefect.”
Nodding politely to his fellow Mitracian Ratel answers with a traditional children's bedtime blessing, "Even in the darkness of night, may the lord of light shine brightly over you." He winks at the warpriest, "And perchance as the drovers prepare the wagons in the morning, we shall investigate the front two pews of the shrine."
Smiling at Tal'ariel question as he leans his polearm against the wall, "Not really, Kumaaree, just a happy accident" As he sets his rucksack beside the table, "Or maybe providence?" Pulling out the chair he takes a seat. "I am on a pilgrimage to the 'Holy Cities' the safest way to journey there is with a caravan. This one was headed there and willing to pay for guards, so I accepted the offer." Shrugging, he looked towards Ciri, "I do not know if the princess is also a pilgrim, or if she is the financier of the caravan." He smiles and sips his ale. "Or if she is returning incognito to the cities to establish her throne."
I AM traveling on a pilgrimage of sorts, gaining knowledge of the world in order to make alliance with others and adventure. When I return to my people, I will do it in strength and unite our Kingdoms into a country of our own, one to be proud of. So, for now I am but a humble pilgrim making my way in the world. However, I always wanted a handsome body guard, Dear One.
Oh, this is just what I was hoping for! thinks Tal'ariel to herself. "Say, I got myself into an accidental pilgrimage of sorts." Which was a nice way of saying she'd gotten completely lost and came back to her senses in this tavern.
"Do you think I could join your caravan? I can totally guard things. Yup, that's what I do." She takes a big gulp of the wine she had told herself she wouldn't drink.
(That's pretty much the opposite of what she does--she's much more likely to take things.)
"Do you have a lot of sandstorms here?
"This is the desert. The wind blows and so does the sand. It will be 2 gold for a room and 1 sp for the dwarven ale. He is close enough at this point Thoron can see the bartender has stone teeth!
After collecting his gold, the bartender starts walking back to the bar and states mockingly, "Look Merth, we've got us a princess! Shall we all bow down?" With that, all the locals start jeering and laughing. Most of them pretending to bow in an over exaggerated manner.
Non plussed Jim went to have his bath which was luxurious and after soaking long enough to be wrinkled like a prune, he realised he was tired and he went to bed. It occurred to him that he was could be robbed so he stuffed his saber between the bed and the wall and he put his pack under the bed and promptly fell asleep.
Raising an eyebrow at the princess' comment about a 'handsome bodyguard' Ratel sipped his ale again, intentionally covering a slight smile. He did not consider himself handsome, his features were symmetrical enough, but the scars had ruined that. He considered his aquiline facial structure strong but would be tempered with a plated beard and hair like the warpriest wore. But for humilities sake, and the fact that in combat your enemy would grab beard or long hair, he wore his hair short and his face clean shaven. He'd considered his younger brother, who'd taken after their mother, the pretty one. But after the pilgrimage was over, if this princess wanted to hire him, he would consider it. Lowering his ale he nodded and answered, "If the Lord of light wills it."
Turning to the other half elf, he raises an eyebrow at her 'accidental pilgrimage' comment. Resisting the urge to explain that a pilgrimage cannot be entered into accidentally, he sipped his ale again, swirling the dark heavy hops brew around in his mouth. Almost spewing the ale out when she followed up her claim of being a guard with 'yup that's what I do.'
Swallowing the ale in his mouth as he sets down the ale, he leans around the table, looking her up and down. Trying not to sound condescending he asks Tal'ariel, "Which do you find more effective against the local gnolls, the dagger or the sap?"