Gunl dropped the Wheelbarrol handles, allowing the thick frame to clamor hard upon the rough stone that makes the entrance to the narrow tunnel he, and others, had spent the last six weeks carving into. He lifted his hands over his head and leaned back, his back squealing in delight from not being stuck in it's hunched over stance for so long. He clenched his hands hard, the tightness of skin mixed with dirt and grime rasps upon itself while his knuckles cracked loudly. A groan of enjoyment escapes his chapped lips, and his eyes blink rapidly as they tear up from the sudden brightness of the noonday sky overhead. He rolled his head left adn then right, neck muscles stretching, bones cracking. Same with shoulders and hips, he rolled and cracked them all.
"humans were never made to work within the rocks" he muttered to himself, basking in the enjoyment of the stretch.
An image flashed across his mind, a rather pleasing image. Milnea laying underneath him, naked. a smirk forms on his lips as he recalls the torid details. It was the "stop" and the "donts" that made him the happiest.
Gunl wasnt the only one out in the wilderness mining this mountain face. He was the muscle, Milnea was the pleasure, and Master Onrik was the idiot in charge. "a fools errand" Gunl had decried a bit too loudly, for Master Onrik heard this and made Gunl pay dearly for his loud mouth.
"Tis not a fools errand. Moradin's gift is a precious metal, one you had best take heed of, young Gunl, if you are to pass to journeyman wizard with my blessing" Master Onrik derided gunl after slapping the man across the face with a handful of magic. "my studies-[/b] the old master clamped his jaw shut hard, his face screwing up tight as if he smelled something noxious.
"Please master, Gunl was only making comment for me[/b] Milnea begs gently, her voice a warm kiss on a cold night.
Master Onrik glares at the pretty young woman, his newest wizarding apprentice.
Milnea Ondrstic stepped between the two men, her dark skin shining brightly in the sunlight, glistening with a warmth and softness only the best kept ladies of Calimshan could achieve. A bad accident in Master Stalnic's tower left Milnea without a Master to learn from; Master Stalnic apparently disolved to death. Normally, the supserstition of an unlucky apprentice would have been the end of Milnea's dream of becoming a wizard, but she was considered too "new" to be afflicted with "cursed apprentice" vibe. her time with Master Stalnic was measured in hours, not weeks. Master Onrik accepted her into his care, and began instruct her on the wizarding arts.
Gunl himself wastn too keen on being anything beyond a journeyman wizard. He wanted to cast some cantrips, to use magic to manipulate the dice, the cards, the darts. That was his path to easy life. Cheating at gambling in back country inns and villages.
"bloody Wheelbarrol. Stupid thing", Gunl groans, his thoughts brought back to reality. He paused once more, remembering entering Milnea's tent after the Master went to sleep, to play with his new toy. A big grin etches across his face as he bends down and lifts the handles. Stones spill out the top of the Wheelbarrol, and cascade down the hillside with clatter and clacks. they tumble and flash, kicking up a fine red dust that drifts hazily upon the wind.
A weird sound comes from the tunnel, almost like someone slapping another.
"More like Milnea smacking her delicate head into the low wall." Gunl rolls his eyes as he wheels the one wheeled cart back into the tunnel.
It started the first night, his visits to Milnea's tent. They had talked on the ride into the high hills, and Milnea seemed charming, likeable. When shed turn
her head to the left a little, she looked absolutely amazing to Gunl. not that his standards were high, but perhaps they were so low did Milnea look so amazing. Perhaps it was because they were out in the wilderness, and he was the only male that was closer to age than her and the Master. In either case, after the Master went to sleep, Gunl made his move.
The daylight didnt extend very far down the tunnel, no more than 20 feet before the tunnel doglegs left, and the ambient light couldnt overcome the darkness. Small candles bequeathed a dim light that allowed the humans the ability to see the chiseled floor they had carved and magiced over the last few weeks. THe master had used beams of disintegration, the spray of transmutation, and the fires of evocation to carve this tunnel far faster than any team of dwarves could cut. Even Gunl and Milnea had added their abilities to the spells, further enhancing the effectiveness at removing the aged stone. Yet, with every spell, every casting, every cartful, Gunl couldnt figure out why. why here? whats so special about the Thunder Peaks? hed ponder after his nightly (unwanted) visits to Milnea. Yet he couldnt figure out. Moradin's gift the master had called it. Yet, he couldnt remember what this gift was.
They had discovered the small ruins two days before. Perhaps abandoned rooms is a more apt term, for there was no destruction due to time. the room itself was carved from the stone mountain itself, with a hall that ran further into the darkness. A drip of water was ever present, and sometimes gunl would catch Milnea captivated by the sound. more like going mad gunl snorted wryly, a dry grin upon his lips.
There were rods laid upon the floor when they broke through the wall, much to the master's delight. he shrieked and hollered, as if he discovered something intense. yet he hadnt revealed what it was. When asked, he clamped his mouth shut, hed stare hard at gunl, and even the gentle sweetness from Milnea wouldnt soften the Master's gaze, nor tone. You both should have studied more. Now, keep digging. He demanded.
Now, two days later, the hall with the drip, the partial collapse had been cleared, the large crack in the ceiling had been reinforced. The spell the Master had cast has revealed that the tunnel goes on for many many yards deeper into the mountain, over and under cave ins and collapses, yet it held promise. A vein of the gift was discovered. This held no interest to Gunl. He had already progressed from annoyed at the grit and dirt to anger, an anger he vented nightly upon Milnea.
The candle before the "entrance" to the room had gone out. Gunl grumbled and sighed. no doubt i'll be blamed for this. It's not even my job to replace the candles. It's Milnea's. He shoves hard the wheelbarrow, forcing it to hop the lip onto the proper floor of the room. With a clang and a jolt, the barrow settles onto the rock floor, and squeaks easily along. Grunting in annoyance, Gunl steps up onto the lip and into the room.
He never saw it coming.
Where there was no light, his vision flared brilliantly with an intensity of a multispectral rainbow! Yet the rainbow hurt, bad. really badly! The blow drops Gunl to his knees, and he pitches forward onto his hands. Immediately he throws up, his mind reeling, his vision dancing with lights where the room holds none. he tries to move, yet nothing works. he vomits again, and feels chunks of breakfast coming up with the retching. He gasps for air, each heave of his body causing the pain and disorentation to worsen. His arms loose their strength and he falls face first into his vomit. His eyes roll as he once again retches, but his body doesnt have the strength to fully expell the contents. he begins to choke. If his head hadnt been slammed on, he'd be able to control his body to roll away, to shift his position. Instead, his arms flopped without control, his legs stiffened.
Oh no. not yet her voice says suddenly.
a foot kicks savegely into his side, forcing him to involuntarily contort. The waste stuck in his throat is expelled, along with the wind in his lungs. Yet the effort is not without reward, for Gunl does roll away from the vomit pile. His mind is simply wrecked as he struggles to stay conscious.
Comparing the odd stabbing feeling in his back is a mere pin prick to the wracking of pain that hammers his brain. Yet, the stabbing causes his odd twitching though mostly limp limbs to truely fall limp.
There. much better. that honey voice wraps around his head like soft gossamer, lulling him further into... into...
a brilliant head flares through his head! the pain of his rattled brain immediately goes away, and the cotton packed thoughts and slurring snaps sharply into focus.
OW he groans. and then groans once more as a phantom pain flashes in his head. Yet, as he tries to tense his entire body, he feels-nothing?
what? what happened? what-
I paralyzed you. The healing spell only managed the lesser of damages. A shovel to the side of the head is a far lesser injury to heal than a severed spine.
He groans, and coughs, after vomit tickling the back of his throat. Anger and murder blaze within his imagination, if only he could get his hands on her!
his hands.
if only he could move his hands.
Suddenly he's rolled onto his back. The black woman that had been the subject of his nightly visits stood over him, pure anger marring her onyx beauty. Her eyes glowed with an internal brilliance of one exacting revenge! Her foot, which had been used to kick him onto his back now pressed firmly upon his chest. (he felt that! He could feel his chest! Small victory!)
He was about to snarl a reply back at her, to demand that she heal him again of his paralysis when his tongue stuck to his mouth, his jaw clamped shut. Abject terror stole his voice, his tone, his confidence.
Where Milnea had once worn rags, sandals, dirt caked her face, her arms, her curly hair, now a woman in absolute power stood over him. Gone is the dirt. gone is the rages. gone is the meekness. a hardness that was never displayed is now heard easily in her voice. Instead, she stood over him wearing brilliant red leather skirt, a white cotton blouse that hung upon her frame loosely, yet failed to hide the swell of her breasts. The skirt stopped just above the knee, yet her right leg, resting upon his chest, her leg was displayed well up the thigh from a long slit up the skirt. her face, dirt marring the beauty, now a perfect onyx statue staring down at him.
How can you be so stupid, gunl? she snarled at him. she grinds the pointy tip of a high heeled sandal into his chest, at a spot gunl can feel it. (and it does not feel good). he winces at the pain! All that time, sneaking into my tent to she lifts her hands up and makes quotes man handle me? Please. i let you. she shifts her weight, lifting her foot off the paralyzed man's chest, and savagely stops her foot into his face, breaking bone. Blood spurts instantly, coating his features with a red glaze. YOU stomp are stomp a stomp stomp pathetic stomp stomp STOMP MAN she stomps harder and harder, pulverizing bone and flesh until only a bloody mess that is Gunl's face remains, and Gunl's eyes close.
Between the time when the oceans of sand drank Netheril and the rise of the sons of Raumvira, there was an age undreamed of. And unto this, Dewn Mou'tain, destined to wear the jeweled crown of Narfell upon a troubled brow. It is I, his chronicler, who alone can tell thee of his saga. Let me tell you of the days of high adventure!
Massive drums hammered in unison upon a loft not 12 feet above your head, the deep bass booming so intensely, your soul pounds in unison. Your breath quickens, and you pant slightly as you feel an involuntary surge of intensity fill your veins with power, as if you were overcome momentarily with a perverse desire for bloodlust.
A man jumps out from behind a small crowd, and lands upon a table set with drink, yet he doesnt cause a drop of alcohol to be spilled. A thick white beard, a wicked scar upon his face runs from forehead down his neck, overtaking his left eye. Either an axe, or razor sharpened blade to cause that scar, that split in his eyebrow and cheek.
The drums pick up in intensity, causing you to clench your teeth as if you can feel the thrum of history overtake you, to bring you to when you were a child sitting around the fire, the fires of imagination pitting you against the hell hordes of the Abyss, against the mighty Klauthin the Red Menace, against the evil black elves that haunt the realms below!
the man squats momentarily and picks up a tankard at random, his rough spun cotton pants and shirt folding and creasing easily, revealing a taunt frame to one of late middle age. His other hand, he picks up a candle, and holds it out at arms length, as one might wield a blade of great length. He lifts the tankard to his lips, tilting his head back, he holds for a moment, then swiftly lowers his face and seems to look at you. the candle sweeps up between the both of you, a smirk delights his gaze, and he spits a brownish liquid out of from his mouth. It flows from his lips to the candle... and hell seems to appear before you!
the brown liquid catches light, and where liquid was, now only fire and heat billow out, flaring brilliantly and intensely to your unprotected face!
you raise your hands, your arms to cover your beauty, your face, your eyes, your hair, the drums hammer more, your soul pounding in unison, you feel it! the excitement! the thrill! the danger! the heat
you fall backwards, off the table, and the impact drives out the spell, the illusion of danger. the cold hard surface snaps you back, centers you. You blink, and realize that the fire isnt as large nor as intense as it appeared. rather it was large, and gave of heat, but it ended mere moments beyond the candle itself.
the crowd laughs loudly at your misfortune, and your action.
Good show!
well acted
i could have done better
and more are all shouted out!
The days had been consistent, neither boring nor dull. Your travel to Esembre in Battledale had been rather uneventful. THe promise of coin, of a job, had driven you to walk. to walk when you wanted to wallow, unsure of where your next meal would be. to sleep under a hedgerow, the only cover outside of the looming dark forest of Cormanthor. The drow lurked in these woods, and the "civilized" elf had returned, yet the bugbear, the goblin, the orc, the frost giant and more, all of them hunted and prowled. Not a week before you had come across a horror upon the road. A group of travelers, definitly not merchants, had been caught by something. several dead lay upon the road, mostly a bloody mess, yet enough remained to recognize the mass as humanoid. There was some gold to be had, but most of the equipment was destroyed. a large crushing impact had wrecked devastation upon the group, and while the tracks didnt say what did the killing, you knew they were too much for you. Hasty graves were dug, a peasants prayer was said, and on the road you were, desperate to be safe.
The Realms are a frightfully awesome place the man cuts in, leaping between two beautiful serving wenches
beauty behind every corner to see... he lifts the chin of one of them, kissing her rose lips gently
and certain death to those not quick enough to evade! he leaps out of the way as the second one swings her servign tray at where he had once stood!
the man laughs a horrible cackling sound
Fortune favors the bold! he cries out, stealing in for a quick handful of the offended woman's offered chest. yet he stops and swiftly moves out of the way, the movement turned into a bow.
Yet history only remembers the few!
The man spins once, twice, thrice, upon the balls of his feet. He stood several feet away, yet the spinning brought him close to your side. He squats down, and meets you eye to eye.
in a low voice, pitched for your ears alone, he says
death is so cold, the Realm's memory is short, will you be remembered, or will you be Forgotten?
The tiny terror of Marsember smiled as she sat in one of the large chair in which she continued to eat. For Priscilla she did miss the many canals and waterways of the City of Spices. She also missed her father and mother as well as the exended family left behind. All to which were master fishmen, boatwrights, net makers and fishmongers. Springheel Fisheries were one of the largest Halfling businesses in the Human lead country of Cormyr, they also had a few clans inside Sembia as well.
Priscilla though like many young halflings felt rhe pull of adventure. She dreamed of someday findinf her hairy feet troddinf down a path of wonder and excitement. The Brunette beauty born of Beau and Portia Springheel was always a rebellious yourh, divinf into dangerous waters, fighting on the docks and carousing many of the local bars. It was this attitude that lead her to learning the arts of sealth and larceny under tutelage of a Brandorian priest named Laim Loretooth.
Still Priscilla thought foundly back on those days, learning the ways of the greatest Halfling Hero turned God whilst showing the pretencious human nobles of Marsember a thinf or too. Until she got fingered by some upstart Purple Dragons which needless to say caught her stealing a certain pearl mecklace from the young Dara Dragonirths bridal chamber minutes after her and said Purple Dragon suitor had indeed began a passionate session of love making. Granted as she was pilfering the purloined pearls from around her neck during the act was a bit too daring, it still didnt give the man to wave his swords around.
So one well placed dagger and speedy exit the 'master' thief fled the scene and shortly after the city. Thankfully she hitched a ride on some caravan wagons as a Chef and seemed to do well. Eventually she parted ways in the Small dale know as Battle Dale in the city of Essembra. Thier in the Tavern called 'Scouts Honor' she sat eatinf her fill.
Oddly she was during the performance watchinf the patrons snd stealing a piece of food here and thier. Took a sip or even moved a plate or too. Seeminfly appearinf to do the work of a tavern maid, until she found a seat and ordered two meals and a human sized pint for herself. She also happy acvepted bread and cheese, alonf with whatever larger menu items were offered and plopped down a couple gold with a wink and a smile.
She was here for a new lease on life and well a way to keep the Purple Dragons off her back until Mr. One-Nut the Relentless abd his fellow Dragons forgot her face. AmBy Tymore and the Hin Pantheon she thanked them for all the luck she had gettinf here, and hoped that it continued
Augier, aka Aggghh the Unclean sighed as he put down the last of the crates and rubbed his back. For now his job was over and he could enjoy some stew and ale before resting.
The pungent dwarf was wide and some would say almost fat, but never to his face or they would get a smack with the thick sap he carried at his waist. His beard was surprisingly short as was his hair since he said was to keep people from grabbing onto it when he was doing his bodyguarding jobs.
The scent is what assails everyone first. Then the echo of the flimsy door slamming open (and some splinters flying free). The previous stench of sour mash and the unwashed sweat of weeks doesn't begin to overpower the reek that the wide, scarred dwarf exudes. Everything halts to stillness in the formerly rowdy bar.
Augier grunts and heads over to the bar for some vittles.
Easy there Dewn. Easy now. Save that tale for later this evening. a short man says, stepping in front of the old man who was just about to start into a tale. THe look on the aged one's face told a story of anger, annoyance, and dejection. Finally, he frowned and stumped his way up to far end of the bar. He took a stool and sat down, and slumped onto his fist.
Quiet all! quiet! quiet! the man begins to shout, each take growing louder and louder, cutting through more and more of the noise. Short of stature, the man carried an air about him of one who asked to be heard, not demand. People quickly quieted down, the 40 or so patrons within Scout's Honor. serving maids and wenches (The difference is the depth of the cleavage revealed) moved about, bringing drink and food to those that ordered it.
The short man raises his hand high overhead, a letter dangling from it, complete with a long red ribbon adhered to the letter with some sort of large blob of wax.
Everyone! Word from Chancellor Ilmeth. the room quiets even more, most of the sounds of cutlery upon plate dies down considerably.
First off. News on the black scourage. The black elves, the detestable Drow. They raided the northern farms earlier today. But our patrols beat them back with ease! 12 dead darkies! the room fills with cheers. the Drow had appeared out of nowhere several years back, crawling up from the Underdark through cracks and crags littered about the land. Word spread from all the other Dales that the Drow did attack their lands as well, killing those that resisted, and enslaving those that subdued. Within Battledale, this has lead to small, fast moving squads patrolling the lands of Battledale proper, fast attacks in an attempt to contain an even faster foe.
Easy. easy! the short man urges Yet the Chancellor has send out this message, an urgent call to aide! he pauses, looking at everyone in the room, making sure that he has everyone's full attention.
He brings the paper to his face and begins to read:
My Fellow Battledarans.
I once again must commend you for your stalwart actions against the ongoing Drow threat. Each day, you prove your resiliency against a dedicated foe, one that would seek to destroy not only you and your families, but also this Dale and the greater dalelands as well. For that, i salute you
patrons within the room hammer knives and forks, or fists, onto the tabletops for a moment, a salute to themselves and to others.
the short man continues.
Yet, i must ask another thing of you. Another request for aide. There is a strangeness happening in the small settlement of Hap. it is the lack of anything that concerns me. No patrols, no messages. Traders approach the settlement and are greeted with a sign that says seek trade elsewhere. If I had the manpower, i would send a patrol to invesitgate. Yet, i do not. Instead i ask that this message be read at taverns throughout the Dales, in the hopes that someone, anyone, is willing to lend assistance.
As always, know that it is not I that protects you, but you that protects yourselves. I merely help.
BattleDale forever!
the short man lowers the message.
I know asking my fellow Battledarans to aide the Chancellor is asking to much, so i ask if there are any newcomers here that would wish to aide our Dale? any adventurers? Come now, dont be shy! please!
A young dwarf maiden, palest blonde hair with equally pale skin (is that a tinge of blue to her skin?) stands up from a table at the far end of the room.
I will aide she says simply as she pulls a long dagger from her a hidden sheath upon her frame. she drives the tip into the wooden tabletop, plates and silverware clattering from the impact. I aim to kill some Drow, and this smells like Drow to me! she says with passion. Several townsfolk nod their heads, and quickly the room begins to buzz with conversation.
She steps back off of her seat, and walks up to the short man...
Aggh arches an eyebrow at the bartender. Not like any of us are sweet flowers, plus worken out in the dirt and rain makes one ripe. If there be a way of getten regular water and soap, then I'd be bathen more. Augier wonders just how a thing could be done without having to lug water with buckets. Perhaps build something with pipes..eh...probably wouldn't catch on...
As she stuffs her face the Halfling mischief maker and evade of Officer One-Nut the Relentless heard those words. She pondered on the idea and went through the words. As she did more food crossed her lips and ale washed it down. It struck her suddenly that no terms where made. Why offer just patriotism? Oh sure native Dalesmen might be okay with fighting under Battledales banner, but her a new comer to this land. A former child of Marsember the City of Spices and Undoubtly the largest city on tbe Dragonmere!
She took a bit kore food and srood confidently up on the table. She used the back of her palm to wipe foam and food from her ruddy cheek and spoke." Herald of Battledale, pray tell what does such a task offer say a beauitful and stunning adventuress like me?" came her sweet soprano sound, lettinf the words hang in the air.
As she stood she then reached down to feab some bread ans ate it before going back to grab the for her a head side mug of ale and deink a bit kore. She would then wink and smile at rhe Barmaid before focusinf back to the Herald.
Helna looks over at Priscilla, and she glowers at the halfling woman.
for a beautiful and Stunning adventuress like myself, gold. For you she pauses, looking the halfling up and down best would be a warm night with the pigs
Helna laughs at her own joke, only to have it cut off by the licks of a large wolf.
blech blah ew... dog drool she says in annoyance, giving Naomi a glare. Control your dog, eh? Friendly though? she wipes her face with the back of her sleeve. blech... warn me next time, yeah? she asks, her face softening.
the crowd roars with amusement at the expense of Priscilla, even the old man who spoke earlier makes loud Oink sounds.
The herald, a smile upon his face, replies to Priscilla's inquiry. Easy ladies. Easy now. If Drow are there, then it's to be double the rate for extermination. That's 50gp per pair of drow ears you bring, not the normal 25. If it's something else, 200 gold.
the crowd gasps at the mention of the large sum of gold. Many folk in this region can only dream of holding onto a pot of money that large.
That be a rich price! Of course from legends, the drow are deadly foes so should fetch a good price. I'll be willen to head there.
Priscilla takes anorher big swig and smiles." Sounds like a good start! Maybe after a bit of fun and more food Ill be ready to get those ears and answers" The halfling says wink8nf at the maid again. She then hops onto her chair and then the floor.
She glides silkly across the floor and as she strides up to the others offers the Wolf a bit of meat and smiles at rhe dog." Hi Thistle, I am sure well be good friends" she says with a giggle and scratches the neck of the wolf with youthful vigor.
" Oh Prscilla is my name adventure is my game!!!"
Pushing out of the crowd, A man in polished armor steps forward. He's not much more than average height, but the brass inlay upon his lamellar tells that he is no ordinary warrior. If that were not enough, when he holds up his left hand, a glowing symbol marks his palm. "I will bring Amaunator's light to the darkness. Let these creatures of the night fear the Light of the Law."
Name's Helna. the blue tinged dwarf says simply. She nods at everyone, a simplistic greeting from the short female.
What catches your eye the most about Helna is not her odd blue tinged skin, but the sheer number of daggers, various designs and lengths. A short, fat width one that looks like it fits in the fist, as if to punch with it. Another has an odd forward sweep, a narrow blade that suddenly widens to an odd bulb. handles made of antler, of strange colored woods, finger wells and finger grooves. A blade hangs upon her front, just below her stomach, securely held in a leather sheath with gold string.
a motley crew of folks in search of gold coin are we? Ope, beggin your pardon, holy one. she sweeps a bow at the tall man. and i agree. what do be your name, stranger? you may bring light to darkness, but im with her. Im not calling you "light bringer", not till you buy us ladies a drink she smiles at Priscilla and Naomi.
The paladin turns to the woman, smiles amiably, and inclines his head in a gesture that isn't quite a bow. As he does so, you can seen a greatsword and longbow sticking up from where they're strapped to his back. "Certainly, m'lady. You can call me Hellig. If I may, how may I address you two?" he says, with a gesture that takes in her wolf as well.
" Nice knife collection respect" She says as she continues to pet and scratch Thistle throughoughly enjoyong thr beast.
" A bringer of light...so the ships beacon or a light house!" Priscilla giffles some more and adjusts her many blades and winks to Helna. After that she hears a drink and nods.
" And a mesl, oh and after meal entertsinment!" Priscilla says as she fills with life enjoying herself again
. This was gonna be fun.
Helna blushes briefly at the compliments to her blades.
Oh thank you. they are lovely. Took me many months to make them all. This one is, so far, my favorite She draws the blade that hangs below her belly with an easy draw, and your amazed at how long the blade is. Held in her hand, she bares a blade that can only be described as long, for a dagger. No guard upon it, an antler for a handle. the blade itself, narrow where handle meets blade, seems to grow wider as the further out it goes, only to suddenly drop severely towards an aggressive tip. Where it would be a polished blade, instead its been darkened in some way.
Well I will certainly be joining in. So when will we all be heading out for drow smashen?
The messenger, who had been distracted by munching on the browned end of a hunk of bread; a questioning look comes upon his face.
the north, miss? Did i say- Oh! Oh! Oh yes! I understand. I apologize for the misunderstanding, lady. THe patrols they fought the drow to the north today. Like i said, the patrols. The patrols have that under control, but the message was for someone to investigate the small settlement of Hap. It's about 40 miles south of here on Rauthavyr's Road. Unless youre wishing to join the patrols. A hard life it is, always on the move, on horseback. Course, i will warn you, there is no women in the patrols. only men. The drow would be more inclined to capture you than just kill you. Ive heard they have odd tastes, if you know what i mean? he asks with the seriousness of one who is attempting to discourage.
" Ooo thats so cool! Im not a metalsmith, but I can fish, cook, and know about sailing and how to build, repair and maintain a ship!!!" Priscilla says with a smile as she is eager to learn about her new companions and especially earn some coin along the way.
The halfling lass saw Arrggh and gave a wave as she then grabbed a drink from somewhere and began drinking it before making a blegh face and returning it to its previous owner.
"Then let us head for Hap." Hellig says, after the messenger clarifies.
Aghhh waves back. I know some carpentry since I did some work building houses and other stuff. Mostly bodyguarding though and thumping heads. Heading south sounds fine by me.
A slender human with dark skin approaches the gather group and says, "Excuse me, I am Ceirn. I hear that you are traveling to Hap. I was hoping to travel to the area on business, and if there is something preventing trade, I would be happy to assist in finding out what has happened and opening trade up once more."
" Arrgh you are a carpenter, Nice! My da and granda were all ' Learn a skill besides skulkry' So I tried a few my family had to offer! Which was fun, but not exciting." Priscilla says as she grabs an untended roll and begins to eat it.
" Wait who said we are leaving roght now. I have more booze to drink and tavern maids to impress. Maybe a stalwart patron. Who knows its still young, with wonderful food, drink and dancing! Besides lets worry on the morrow about the Spider Kissers and Hap. Mostly to have a good nights sleep and in the morn after breakfast and provisioning we head out!" the pint sized Proscilla said with gusto. The petite athletic wisp of a halfling woman, may stand barely over 2 feet in hoeght but she was seemingly serious about her plan. At least her percieved plan exicuted to perfection.
.
Excuse me. Ladies. Lords. Sir, a word?
a man of equally short stature had walked up on the group. A bright smile, bright white teeth matching and equally black slicked back hair greeted you all. Aside from a sword upon his hip and the tan marks of a man who weilds a shield, the item of importance is a small silver pin upon his collar. The man bows to everyone, then reaches out and grasps the proclaimers arm.
the messenger allows himself to be pulled aside, a sour look already grimacing his face.
in a not to subtle tone, the newcomer asks loudly i say sir. was there happenings down in Hap? did i hear that correctly. the man asks in the most polite way possible.
The messenger curls his lips in disgust, but answers. ...yes.
A providence! Behold lads! A quest! the man turns and pumps his arm in excitement. in response, a group of six men eating at another table raise their glasses and cheer loudly, filling the longhall with an echoing roar.
these lands need our help, and we shall do so.
the messenger groans slightly, his face growing pale.
But the Chancellor-
ack. tis no issue with myself, and my band! Why, once we finish our meal here, we will gladly be on our way. the Night Road is no fearmonger for us and our ilk. i dare say sir, we shall vanquish this black elf presence from Hap, and people will bring prosperity to these Dalelands once again, am i right? he laughs loudly, slaps the messenger on the arm, bows once more to the lot of you, and then glides easily back to his table. Cheers and comraderies greet him upon his return.
Helna's face looks as if she swallowed a glass of milk.
I dont know that guy... but he has a face that even his own mother would punch rather than love. she shakes her head
"Sulver Ravens eh? Sembians here to take coin and make coin. As usual" Priscilla says looking at the man with a scowl.
" Not a fan, stingy and rude. Also You can never truly trust a Sembian even if they proclaim to be good" Proscilla was not a fan as her family who had a long history on the Inner Sea, especially the Dragons Reach had to deal with Sembia Merchant Houses. It was never easy not entertaining.
So they will be competing with us, I guess? Well if they go and fight the drow first, that means less bounty for us.
Seeing the Slender dark skinned human approach she smiles at Hellig, "See."
Hellig smiles sheepishly and shrugs.
Not really concerned about the 'Ravens' she tugged on Thistles scruff, "Come on Thistle, let's go back to our table." Looking at the others she adds, "There are empty chairs around my table if you all want to have a drink and get to know each other better." Not waiting to see who follows or who doesn't she heads back to her table, and continues sipping her pint of ale.
Hellig swings by the bar and orders an ale and some food, whatever the bartender recommends, then heads for Naomi's table. He smiles and waves at Thistle as he approaches.
Priscilla will move her plates and mug to Naomis table. She will continue to order more food and drink. As she does she will jest and jokr, with an occasional wink and pinch of the serving lass
After the others settle in she speaks plainly again." The key to a good team is knowing what each of us are capable of. Now I know its hard to believe but not all halflings are sneak theives and cut purses...which is true, but I am unfortunately one of those.aforementioned professions. Which makes me an excellent scout and trap finder! I am quick with a blade if nessecary. So hopefully I wont inconviemce some of you taller folk!"
At tbat she takes another piece of meat, from who's plate is a muystery as all the plates before hers held mere bones,
. She devoured it and washed it down with another pint of ale.
Ceirn looks at the pin, but doesn't know anything about it. He looks back at the woman who responded to him and says, "I do have some arcanse skills that allow me to protect myself and aid those I travel with."
Ceirn will follow along with the others back to the table as gaining travel companions into dangerous areas was definitely of interest to him. When the Halfling starts discussing what skills she has Ceirn will add in, "I have some arcane abilities. My ancestral blood hums with fire and I can send out small bursts of flame or a sheet of fire at those near me should we be threatened. I will, of course, work to avoid striking any of you with flames."
Agghh shrugs. I hit things with my sap or spiked gauntlets.
Hellig chuckles at Aggghhh's simple declaration. "I too hit things, though my tools are larger." he says, reaching over his shoulder and pulling his greatsword far enough out of his sheathe for the others to see, then sliding it back in. "I'm especially effective against evil foes. I can also do some basic healing, and detect the presence of evil." as he says this last, his eyes begin to glow with warm light like the sun, and he looks around the room.
"Whoa Big guy barinf steel inside is not a good thing.Some take that as a challenge...at least in the places I have frequented in the past!" Priscilla says and then cocks her brow as she is standing in her seat.
"Wait are you a holy knight?" the halfling lass says as another piece of food appears and not from her plate. She eats it then washes that bit down. She winks at Hellig and then smiles at the others so far.
" So a holy warrior, a dwarf brawler, a Merchant Mage, and me the adorable and vivacious scout! What about the rest of you?" The girl spouts very much playing up her good looks and over the top personality.
Hellig shrugs "Ah, well, I suppose. It's true that Amaunator has blessed me. But it's also true that humility is a virtue. 'Holy Knight' sounds so exalted. I'm just a warrior who tries to fight the right fights. To do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly, as I've heard it put. But now I'm speechifying again." he says, before grabbing some food and occupying his mouth that way.
Ceirn looks over at Naomi in interest at what she said and then asks, "Does your mother find many buyers for her wolves? Are they trained to guard or are they intended more as a unique pet for those who can afford such things?"
helna says loudly to Hellig i bet your tools are larger than the rest of them! and she laughs loudly
Helna pulls out a narrow dagger with a subdued wood handle. She twirls it back and forth over her fingers, flips it up, catches it by the handle.
if i can see it, i can hit it. the dwarf says, standing up. she looks at everyone gathered around the table, and her eyes settle upon Priscilla.
allow me to demonstrate. She slips over to Naomi, who's hand she takes into her own. before Naomi can react, helna presses her hand flat upon the table, places her own hand atop of it, and then begins quickly and accurately driving the tip of her dagger into the spaces between the fingers with accuracy.
with a final thrust, she jams the dagger into the table between the ring finger and middle finger. she leans back, letting go of Naomi's, laughing.
chuckling, she catches Priscilla's eye and moves over to her. bending over, she says loud enough for Priscilla's ears alone we should talk.