Lord Kerrigan turns to the guests and guards from the keep, and in his deep booming voice recites:
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Lord Kerrigan approaches the site of the skirmish, a few guards behind him. The guards begin to carry Kargan off. Kerrigan addresses Manfred, Percival, Kallista, and Kornelius, "We'll keep him under lock and key tonight and then decide what to do with him in the morning. That last little match came as quite a surprise."
"Onwards the VonFalkenburgs!" "They're very good at this," says Lord Kerrigan to Falcon. "Very tightly choreographed. And the bit with the eggnog! Wonderful theatre." Having run out of improvised weapons, Kallista looks around the crowd. "Can someone lend me a sword? I see someone in need of a lesson in manners." Lord Kerrigan cheerfully tosses his sword through the air to Kallista of the Blinding Eggnog.
"This is a bit of a surprise. Did you arrange this Falcon?"
"That Prince Percival is quite the gentleman," mutters Lord Kerrigan. "And a good cook." Kerrigan gestures for the course to be run again.
"Well, that's more entertaining!"
Lord Kerrigan ponders the contestants comments and then decides, "I'll allow her to be challenged in the next round, should any of you choose to challenge her ... if there are no objections."
"Shame," says Kerrigan. "I'd like to have seen how you handled a lance."
"Only one? What will we* do with the rest of the evening?" jests Lord Kerrigan leeringly.
"Women? Joust? Well ...," deliberates Kerrigan. "Just this morning I said real knights don't eat quiche and I was apparently wrong about that. Blame it on Prince Percival's Pastries but I'll allow this late entry ... but you must be quick. Tomorrow we move on to the challenge round."
"Only one? What will do with the rest of the evening?" jests Lord Kerrigan leeringly.
Lord Kerrigan wonders where all these blondes came from and considers making the joust an annual event.
"Prince Percival," calls out Lord Kerrigan. "To the kitchens! We dine on quiche tonight!"
"Your highness, I don't suppose you know who's up next do you?" Sir Manfred said, looking around at the field. The crowd seemed a little impatient, a general muttering... "I believe that nasty Kargan has challenged his younger brother to a joust. Kornelius disappeared though. Perhaps he chickened out ... No! Here he comes now!"
Kargan begins to walk towards the halfling prince in a threatening manner but Kerrigan intercedes, "Challenge someone who has not already placed. If they beat you, they can advance."
"Than choose your man!" snaps Lord Kerrigan angrily.
Lord Kerrigan applauds the halfling prince, though his smile still suggests he finds the prince more amusing that praiseworthy.
Spotting Uathach's golden hair and silvery eyes, Kerrigan gestures to Falcon, "That one seems ready. ... Boy's so shiny I have to avert my eyes when he stands in the sunlight like that. ... Do you think blinding his opponents gives him an advantage in combat?"
Falcon Warchild searches the jousting field, "Has anyone seen a 'Mr. The Rogue Knight'," he asks reading a piece of parchment in his hands. "Who gives their child the first name 'The'?" asks Lord Kerrigan wryly.
"Never try to out drink a orc" "Didn't I see that one at the 'Old Mess Hall' with our half-orc friend Hru?"
Lord Kerrigan takes one of the pastries from the halfling prince and eyes it suspiciously. Popping it in his mouth, he chews it once before turning to the guard beside him and muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, "Real knights don't eat quiche."
As the knights begin to gather in the central marketplace of the keep, and the locals become less timid and begin to converse, word reaches the Lord of the keep that they have arrived. An older man, who carries himself like an experienced soldier, arrives. A pair of his armed guards remain back while he comes forward and greets you warmly. "Welcome, all! I am honoured that you have travelled such a great distance to be part of our small competition. We hope, by hosting you, to extend our friendships with your kith and kin." "I am Lord Kerrigan. My son, Falcon, will give you more information about the contest tomorrow."
Kerrigan looks around at the selection of items and nods. "You've saved my Keep from disaster. I trust that you will guard my secret as well as you have guarded my little stronghold," he smiles. To Yin he adds, "A tour of the city is difficult to arrange. It is mostly buried and the only way to travel it is through the sewers and up the grates into buildings that have not collapsed, such as the one you saw over which my Keep is built. Perhaps someday, if you don't mind the swim." "Shall we rejoin the festivities?"
"A shortage of bards is a mixed blessing ... but I remember the legend of 'King's Ale' from my drinking days. An ale that heals all wounds, cures diseases, protects against poisons, lightens the soul, and heals even the touch of undeath itself," smiles Kerrigan. "I also heard it tastes like honey licked off a virgin's breast and leaves you with little or no hangover. ... Perhaps, given the dwarven tendency for exaggeration ..."
Klyndak can't tell Ovirid much about either of the shields other than that they're magical. "You may well earn it as well someday soon friend," says Kerrigan. "I'll not sell it any time soon. With that traitor Sarpis gone, I haven't the contacts in Kaer Maga to sell it anyhow."
Kerrigan hands the shield to Manfred, punching him lightly on the shoulder as he does. The shield flares brightly when Kerrigan 'attacks' causing Kerrigan to step back and raise a hand up to shield his eyes. "That seems to work for you, young knight."
"I'm not the one to ask about magic. ... Still ... you're talking about the touch of the grave ... Shouldn't his majesty be able to help you with that? The famed 'King's Ale'." Kerrigan turns to Klyndak, "Or is that just an 'old dwarves tale'?"
You also find a simple leather sachel that displays a strong magical aura. "Best leave that one be," says Kerrigan a bit alarmed. "Trust me. You don't want that one."
"It's not exactly a functioning city ... more like a dungeon than anything else," his eyes gleam. "My own personal dungeon!" He pauses for a while and hinks about the question, "Sirap Hilltown, Rydak Hillgrain and I established some gates and wards. Some 'Skum' in the sewers close to the river. I suspect the caves on the old road connect but can't find out where. Most of the denizens lack the intelligence to launch an invasion. ... Turns out the biggest threat was from within the Keep."
"Are ye thinkin' that the orcs were bein' led 'ere fer reasons o' this city," I ask, my curiosity aroused. "As you said," replies Kerrigan, "the cost of that expedition was great ... He could have built his own keep for the cost of those rings." "For the last fifteen years, I've been 'exploring the basement.' It's big enough to get lost in. I've had Sarpis sell a number of items for me to his contacts in Kaer Maga ... I guess he figured things out." "But, ... I showed you this because I owed you for your help. And, because I want to thank you properly." He waves back to the store room you just came in through, "Choose something. What can I give you to show my gratitude?"
After some more celebrating, Kerrigan bids the party of the Foehammers to follow him and leaves the hall with as little ceremony as possible. He invites you into another chamber, one you haven't been in before. Although it is in the middle of the house, an entire wall is taken up by a thick and heavily reinforced pair of wooden doors. "I can consider you to be friends and allies ... Can I not?"
Kerrigan seeing he still has the stage turns serious. "We lost men today. Good men," he pauses while the crowd mutters their agreement. "We lost men but not as many as we would have were it not for our allies. I hope I can call them that ... allies." He turns and looks to Klyndak for agreement. "Eat. Drink. Mourn our losses. Celebrate our victories. Remember that the day was ours because of friendships. Friendships are all that has sustained our little Keep in the Cinderlands. We have been in need of more of them. And, it looks like today a friendship has been tested and proven."
Kerrigan stands before the applause for Manfred has died down. One member of the audience yells "Braggart" before Kerrigan has even started. "Amidst the sounds of clashing steal,
"For had I more men like this,
"As it is and was I had no choice,
"I waited beneath the cliff 'til the time was right,
"As these noble heroes flanked the foe,
"The blast shook orcs from their hiding places,
"Thus, listen not to the young knight's boast,
The cries of "Braggart" are unambiguous. Kerrigan has lost the game.
Kerrigan smiles at Manfred as he runs by, extends a fond pat and proudly says, "Braggart".
"These rings were requirin' a bit o' resources for them ta be makin' so many," I comment to Lord Kerrigan, "Someone was after wantin' yer keep very badly. Wit' the money they spent on the rings they coulda been buildin' their own fort." "Uh ... yes ... well, as I said," says Kerrigan, "He must have been mad."
"Sir Manfred," Kerrigan yells out to Manny, "Falling from your horse during a joust will not be as dangerous now that you've learnt to fly!" "Those bloody rings!" he says a little less cheerfully. "Do you know what Sarpis had planned? We ambushed one of these warmachines in the forest behind the keep. The orcs, knowing they were discovered, put their plan into motion immediately. The loaded the catapult bowl with a pair of bullish mountain orcs and catapulted them towards the keep. ... This must have been the catapult that Ovirid sabotaged because the catapult's arm fell off halfway through its release and the orcs smashed flat into the wall. They floated down and we shot them through with arrows." He looks up at the cliff where Sarpis' body lay, "He must have been mad. That could never have worked ... could it?"
"Help? I believe this lot were headed my way more than likely. We couldn't have taken that cliff. You've saved me the worry of having a orcs wheeling warmachines up to the walls of my keep. ... Your men will rest in the keep today?"
I answer the Lord of the Keep, "Aye, that was Sarpis. He fled from the Spires a while back when we were after discoverin' his evil nature. I'm glad ta be 'elpin' a neighbor as it were. Are there more o' these orcs around do ye think? Or was this their main host. N' I'm wonderin' iffin Sarpis was the ringleader o' this assault or merely a Captain inna larger army." "Unless there's more coming from up behind you, that should be the last of them. We've been scouting since Yin's company reported back from the Old Road caves. We haven't found more than the lot by the caves and this bunch," Kerrigan says. "As for Sarpis," he adds in a low voice, "his roots are in Kaer Maga and I apparently know less about him than I should. He's been good for trade and has helped keep other more obviously unsavoury characters from Kaer Maga from settling in. I have no idea what precipitated this."
The only mounted officer from the keep approaches, removing his helmet as he does. "King Klyndak," says Lord Kerrigan. "Your arrival was timely. I thought that standoff would prove intractable." Kerrigan dismounts and bows slightly -- deep enough to demonstrate respect for Klyndak's title but not loyalty too it -- and moves in close enough to talk privately. "I lost a half dozen men near the caves rooting out the advance party for this lot. We've slain more than two dozen orcs though. This has not been a good day but it would have been worse without your lot." He looks up at the cliff where Hru, Quarrel, Ovirid, and Manfred now stand. "That was Sarpis, wasn't it?"
King Klyndak and Lord Orlan, Yin, Manfred, and Ovirid had barely departed with my warnings about invading orcs before your three messengers arrived bearing warnings from you about the same. Yin and company did not see them on the road only because, according to them, they are not accustomed to being seen. They claim to have spotted no less than three siege engines during their travels, all headed in the direction of my Keep. I intend to find and rout these orcish invaders before they can dig themselves in. I send you this warning in the hopes that you will not be inconvenienced by a retreating army of desperate orcs. Your message implicating Wain Sarpis has upset the guildmaster a great deal. He insisting on seeing the "scoundrel who would bear false witness against a respected merchant". If you ask me, he seemed a bit hasty to leave the Keep. Yours in mutual defense,
"A token of my appreciation for your discretion in these matters," says Kerrigan.
"Darby, can you get the cloaks?" asks Kerrigan to his manservant.
"Given the circumstances, I think we need to warn our friends in the spires about this orcish activity either for their own protection or ours," says Kerrigan. "I would be indebted to you if you would travel to the spires and inform King Klyndak of what you told me. Suggest to Lord Orlan that this might be a good time to demonstrate to me that respecting his cousins claim to that territory is to my advantage as we discussed."
"Well, Ah'm relatively new t' th' area. What else be 'ere that 'd require a ram t' open 'er up? 'r ye sure yer Keep is such a small prize? Per'aps someone within deals wit' th' orcs 'n wants t' be Lord." Kerrigan glances at Falcon with a raised eyebrow and then shoots a withering glance to Darby, his manservant. "Common wisdom about the keep has it that I was mad to buy this keep once Korvosa had no more military use for it. This is the only standing fortification for miles around. I'm sure they were planning an attack here and I will be prepared should they come. Now, what would you like to do next?"
Kerrigan seems impressed by the rings and stares at them a bit before speaking. "Bands of well-armed orcs, crossing in from the Mindspins with siege weapons. This little keep barely merits such attention. There's something more to this," he says. "I'm at a loss. Opinions?" He scans the room when he says this and includes his son in his gaze. You get the sense that he is unashamed to ask for your ideas and confident enough to make his own decisions after hearing them.
Kerrigan takes one of the rings and hands it to Yin. "I'm thinking this is combat gear not jewelery. Elven make. Yintarah?"
Kerrigan digests the words and says nothing for a long time. "Which direction did they come from? How many were there? What indication do you have that they weren't the only band?"
You pass through a dusty courtyard in which sits the enormous wagon that 'King Klyndak' brought from Janderhoff. Off to one side, a dozen guards are being drilled in fighting techniques that make better use of the shield. A few others stop grooming their mounts long enough to stare at the wounded Kornelius ... or at Yin. It's hard to tell which. The door to Kerrigan's house is opened quickly for you and you are welcomed to a room you've been in before -- comfortable but not opulant, this is where Kerrigan greets his guests. The room is the same as before except for a chipped stone bowl of unfamiliar origin that sits on a low table. Falcon calls out to his father and Kerrigan appears quickly. "So soon? I thought you were to stay there a while?" he remarks upon seeing you.
Your mother and I were very worried about you.
"None taken. For all I know, this is another adventure hook, and I'm just here until some necromancer wanders in looking for more raw materials. At least as a zombie I'd have a chance of getting back at the PCs ...""Adventure hookin', eh? It's hard work to be sure. Here ya go. A double. Adventure hooks pay in advance though. I'll need the coin on the table. No offense." "If you were a zombie, you wouldn't be getting served. NPCs only in this bar."
"Adventure hookin', eh? It's hard work to be sure. Here ya go. A double. Adventure hooks pay in advance though. I'll need the coin on the table. No offense."
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