You overhear two of the horse scouts speaking:
"Think they'll have it out?"
"I think they start into the next cask ist a good chance."
"What kinda odds on the dwarf you running then?"
“I heard of these monsters called Forgefiends,” says Beldan conversationally. “Made of iron and eat gold and steel. Not sure if they shit though. ‘Course, the fellow who told me of them was a notorious tale-teller and was said to have an unnatural love of kobolds, so I’m not sure how much truth to credit to the tale.”
Gittik grumpily sits in his seat, folds his arms and turns his back ostentatiously to Riese.
"To love kobold unnatural. But it ok if nothing else there."
Beldan looks at the halfling, seems about to say something, and then changes his mind. However, a couple of minutes later he asks, “So what’s your story anyway Gittik? I’ve met a few halflings in my time, and you’re … a little different, if you don’t mind me saying.”
The wagon finally pulls up into the fortress. You're all allowed in this time; however, you're asked to give up any large armaments (i.e. weapons that do more than 1d4 in damage). The man charged with this task shudders at the hobbit played by Emil Minty.
Your slowly multiplying band of Merry Men is led to the horse barn; apparently these are the best accomodations that can be provided on short notice.
A short while later, the one-eyed sargent appears at the door to the barn. Two young noobs come carrying a cask of the fine blueberry ale.
"First off, I want to thank you fellows for this....(he stabs the ale cask with one tensed finger)...it's a boon in this godsforgotten station, this tasty swill. You'll all bunk here tonight, least we can do. Cook'll bring you out a good feast after a while.
It's the least we can do, and probably about the most.
Now the sheisser of it...uh, well, there is no damn work for you guys. Oh, there's plenty to do, but it's a long damn story.
Fort Deployment just changed hands from the Secunforth's to a Neheli....noble, along with all these raw titmice hereabouts. The new boss doesn't want to hire merc's. So, I'm in a lovely position here.
So, sleep up, and we're setting you guys on the road in the morning."
Just then, a cowled figure approaches the Sargent.
"Uncle Chorch," you hear a feminine voice say from beneath a hooded cape.
"Huh? Oh, excuse me fellows."
They proceed a few steps away...
B...."She wouldn't come to Bale."
Ch..."Aaaah, well, did you expect her to?"
B...."You have to do something!"
Ch..."What the nine hells do you think I can..."
The Sargent returns..."well, hell. You guys want a...short jobber?
I'll understand thoroughly if you say no. In fact, I'm fully..."
"Shoosh!" says the cowled female voice, kicking her uncle in the back of the knee!
"Aaah, for the sake of...."
Beldan looks at the halfling, seems about to say something, and then changes his mind. However, a couple of minutes later he asks, “So what’s your story anyway Gittik? I’ve met a few halflings in my time, and you’re … a little different, if you don’t mind me saying.”
<looks shifty> "Me come from tribe in big forest, warrior for tribe. But chief scare of me, make me run away or me kill. So me come to find new tribe, fight for new tribe. When strong, have big band of warriors, go back to forest and kill chief, kill sons, take tribe."
The Sargent returns..."well, hell. You guys want a...short jobber?
I'll understand thoroughly if you say no. In fact, I'm fully...""Shoosh!" says the cowled female voice, kicking her uncle in the back of the knee!
"Aaah, for the sake of...."
"Him call me 'short jobber'? Oh, job. Yes, me want job! Me kill enemies for you! Me kill female who kick you?"
"...So, I'm in a lovely position here.
So, sleep up, and we're setting you guys on the road in the morning."
"Ah tell yoo, laddy, I'm jes deliverin' ale coompliments of Ryan Kirtap, unless this place is ooferin' gloorious adventure, I'm oot ana goona take Ryan's wagin back to Saltmarsh an resoom mah dooties. Well, woonce its fixed - yoo goot a wheelwright here, dontcha?"
Listen 1d20+3=15
Who wouldn't come to Bale, Bitha? I shall rescue her! I, Riese the Nice, shall vanquish evil and bring 'her' to Bale safe and sound! Dammit! Riese the Nice!?! I really need to hire on a bard for all this poetic....*trails off*
“Alright, looks like I won’t be being a mercenary after all.” Beldan shrugs. “Oh well, maybe I’ll go to this Saltmarsh place and see if I can’t make some sort of profit from the porker and the rocks.”
“Oh! I’m always happy to accept a short jobber – or a longer one if such is offered – from a young lady! Oh, wait, did she say uncle? Er…”
"Ah tell yoo, laddy, I'm jes deliverin' ale coompliments of Ryan Kirtap, unless this place is ooferin' gloorious adventure, I'm oot ana goona take Ryan's wagin back to Saltmarsh an resoom mah dooties. Well, woonce its fixed - yoo goot a wheelwright here, dontcha?"
“I don’t know Stig, that wheel looked pretty fooked – if you’ll pardon my Dwarven – to me, and I’ve sabotaged enough wagons in my time to know that those goblins did a number on yours … and the wizard didn’t exactly use magic to fix it if you catch my drift … twine and hope more like. Probably did more harm than good in the long run.”
The girl in the hooded cape pulls back the cowl. Curly blond locks pour down the sides of her head like a golden waterfall, framing a lovely face dusted in cinnamon freckles.
"I'm Bitha. I have a job for you.
Granny is adamant about not evacuating her home, but now she may if....we can move her stuff. You have to forgive granny, she's at least 200 years old, so she's old and set in her ways.
I need a wagon and a gang of strapping young men like yourselves to move Granny up to the fort here.
I don't have any money, but....Granny....has a lot of stuff. This wagon won't get all of it, just the important things. Cob, I don't know where she got it all. It's only a few kilometers up the trail northways. Near the Peat Thorpers Can you fellows see to helping a gal a bit?"
My dear, lovely lady,..I, Riese the Resplendent, Hmm, I kinda like that one..., shall most assuredly assist in this quest to save your dear granny! Fear not for my powers will protect her from harm and bring her unto you unharmed! This I swear by all the Gods of Light! My only request is that your beautiful lips utter my name into the wind when you think back on me, which you most unquestionably will, and who could blame you as I am quite ravishing....*trails off*
Uncle Cheorch's one eye flares wide for a second; he looks about to say something snarky, then thinks about it...after all he does want the party's help.
"Thankyou, kind sir." She responds to Reise. "Your powers of verbosity border upon epic. Are you in training to be a court herald? If not, your talents are wasted in these brackish waters."
"Me no kill Granny?" (crestfallen)
(shrugs) "Ok, get Granny, take stuff."
"Me no kill Granny?" (crestfallen)
(shrugs) "Ok, get Granny, take stuff."
"What could be more simple than that? ;) Uhh, maybe we can work a side deal..." says Oneeye, at which another dainty foot comes down on his instep.
"Lassie, this wagin' coold die forever at any mooment en there's scant sign of a wheelwright here at the Foort. GAH!. Ookay, ookay, Stiggy kint say noo to a granny.... grumble"
<Talking to the lads.>
"Ye knoo, the wagin' may not mek eet, young fellers. Thees ees e recipe for noosance."
Stig, expecting something horribly delaying to happen at Grandma's house, sits down, with much cursing and talking to himself, to write a letter to Ryan about the wagon.
Dear Ryan,
The 18 kegs of ale were well received to the tremendous benefit of general morale and insobriety. Your friend Sargent Booger sends his deepest salutations and appreciations. As for myself, the journey was fraught with danger - I single handedly triumphed over a tribe of goblin raiders and practically carried the wagon the last three leagues of the perilous journey without suffering any injuries or bodily harms. Unfortunately the wagon fared not so well, suffered grievous harm to the front right wheel, and due to staffing troubles here at the fort the wheel is ailing and presently irreparable, although the mule is fine excepting his terrifying farts. I shall consequently be taking a temporary leave of absence to seek a career of heroism at the service of a Keoish matron and shall ensure the return of your wagon at the first possible opportunity.
Your Truly,
Stig
Stig goes out to find out how to have his missive sent to Saltmarsh.
"Leave it with me; It'll get there..." says Sargent Booger.
Stig seeks out the cooks and inquires about where he can keep the pigs, making them promise not to roast them until he and the lads return. Also, he eats dinner and taps some Blue Frog.
Stig seeks out the cooks and inquires about where he can keep the pigs, making them promise not to roast them until he and the lads return. Also, he eats dinner and taps some Blue Frog.
"Toyyum to uh stake nixta ther winder, boyo. Is where we heave the iddible castarffs.
In getcher a paint and drawer a big X on them's hamhock, ass a way oyll know not to truss him oop and spill his porkbelly loyk."The one-legged old cook winks at you, salutes with the hook that's replaced (after a fashion) his right hand.
"Thankyou, kind sir." She responds to Reise. "Your powers of verbosity border upon epic. Are you in training to be a court herald? If not, your talents are wasted in these brackish waters."
Yes, they do border on epic, soon to be conquering epic, I should say! My talents are for the arcane and would be wasted in a royal court and yes, my talents are also wasted in these parts too. However if I will suffer the indignity if it allows me to assist a damsel in distress......kind of is the heroic thing to do and all that, even if nobody seems to understand the ultimate sacrifice that one such as I has made to.........*trails off*
she nods, seemingly fascinated by Riese's arrogant tirade, inserting the perfunctory "uh huh's" and "oh-I-see's" where they should seem to go, whether heard or not.
Great, we’re helping an old lady with a broken wagon, thinks Beldan, and yet it looks like he’s going to help … he can’t quite keep that stupid grin off his face when he looks at fair Bitha, and nods in agreement at her every word. Although he’s somewhat cowed into silence by Rieses verbosity, and the fact that the young lady seems enthralled by it concerns him somewhat…
“Um, Sargent Chorch is it? – Whoa, eye! Um, I mean hi … er, is there a smith in this keep? I’d have a word with him if I may?”
"Aye that." He points you around the corner to the smithy. There's a 'prentice beating on a horseshoe when you walk up; he looks about 13 or 14 but his forearms allready look striped with corded muscles.
The smith walks up moments later. He's a burly man with his beard slung over his back in a leather sack.
"Hay there....y'want something?"
“Good afternoon sir,” Beldan greets the smith, initially taken aback by the beard in the sack, before realising that it’s actually a pretty good idea in this line of work. He wonders if that’s how the dwarves do it.
“I’ve come by an amount of bog iron,” he continues, lugging out the sack of iron balls, “and was wondering what you could tell me of it? I understand that bog iron in such quantity is rare … I would be willing to sell it to you, if it is something that you would have use for. Tell me, what properties does this metal have?”
"Hooo, these are bigyunns. Well, I can't buy any right now. I don't do purchases. I don't think the reeve will right now either at that. There newly here to Fort Bale, The Neheli; they're not looking to trade or bandy much.
Mind if I?"
He picks one up.
"Aye, it's goodly stuff. No good for casting usual, but good for working. Only, it's usual not so good for reworking."
"There's guys that makes weapons entire out of this stuff steadda steel. The Hool's always been good for bog iron, but this....never this big. It ain't entirely common at all. I'm sure there's somebody in Saltmarsh can drop some good coin for this lot."
"Bog iron's usually wee, tiny; like.....well, like rabbit turds."
"So. Granny's stuff - what is it? Piano? Harpsichord? Huge folios of pressed insects? Or just normal stuff?"
"Well, she is a 'book person.' And she has her mementos. I think one go with that wagon should get the good stuff.
Beldan is disappointed that he didn’t find a buyer for his balls of steel, but heartened that the smith was (apparently) honest with him, and the suggestion that he will likely find a buyer in Saltmarsh. He thanks the man and returns to the rest of the group, wondering what will be for dinner.
"Well, she is a 'book person.' And she has her mementos. I think one go with that wagon should get the good stuff.
“I heard of this wizard up north somewhere,” Beldan tells Altai, “Magepoint or some such place – who could create this big floating disc to carry around all sorts of junk. Something like that’d be mighty handy.”
"Ye coold sell it oop in the Dreadhold, too, Beldan. Me father woorks weapons foor mariners and seafolk oot o' this stooff. They're a wee soft, but they doont roost."
"Well, she is a 'book person.' And she has her mementos. I think one go with that wagon should get the good stuff.“I heard of this wizard up north somewhere,” Beldan tells Altai, “Magepoint or some such place – who could create this big floating disc to carry around all sorts of junk. Something like that’d be mighty handy.”
"Yes, Tensor's Floating Disc. I'm sure granny has a scroll of THAT lieing around...somewhere."
Beldan is disappointed that he didn’t find a buyer for his balls
"You no sell iron rabbit shit? No worry - you hold balls 'til we get Saltmarsh."
Beldan is disappointed that he didn’t find a buyer for his balls
"You no sell iron rabbit s%%~? No worry - you hold balls 'til we get Saltmarsh."
Beldan is disappointed that he didn’t find a buyer for his balls
"You no sell iron rabbit s%%~? No worry - you hold balls 'til we get Saltmarsh."
"Yes, Tensor's Floating Disc. I'm sure granny has a scroll of THAT lieing around...somewhere."
"Hmmm... You don't say. So Granny is some sort of wizard?"
"Well, she was a venture wizard,...a century and a half ago. She was training me, but the last few years....she's not 100%...her memory and all;
Well, somebody has to take care of her.
She's the last one alive of her party. Not even the elf outlived her."
“Alright, here’s a hypothetical situation for you. Say there’s an old lady with a lot of stuff, you’re helping her relocate – we’re talking probably way too much stuff … and she’s really old, so probably not long of this world …
“Anyway, if she’s got valuable stuff that she doesn’t even know she has, and won’t miss … is it wrong to take some of it?”
"We need be careful. Granny witchdoctor, sound powerful and old. Maybe she turn us into iron rabbit shit if she catch us. Maybe we catch her by surprise, kill her quick, take her stuff."
"We need be careful. Granny witchdoctor, sound powerful and old. Maybe she turn us into iron rabbit s&%& if she catch us. Maybe we catch her by surprise, kill her quick, take her stuff."
“Alright, here’s a hypothetical situation for you. Say there’s an old lady with a lot of stuff, you’re helping her relocate – we’re talking probably way too much stuff … and she’s really old, so probably not long of this world …
“Anyway, if she’s got valuable stuff that she doesn’t even know she has, and won’t miss … is it wrong to take some of it?”
"Thet dint sound too hypothetical to me, laddie."
"Let's say, hypothetically, that she's loocid enoogh to lay a curse on yoor soory arse. How does that play oot?"
“No no, we can’t kill the old lady Gittik,” answers Beldan, eyes wide. “That’s someone’s dear old gran, someone’s dear old mum you’re talking about … we’ll, she’s probably someone’s mother in law as well, but let’s not judge her until we’ve met her…”
“Well … less a hypothetical situation then, and more a moral quandary. But you make a good point with that curse thing. I wouldn’t want to upset an old lady in her twilight years…”
"And if she really is 200 years old, just think of all the time she's had to cook up nasty curses. Mess with her, and your nose will rot and fall off, you'll get bunions the size of cabbages... Well, you get my point. Myself, I'm sure she'll be very happy if we do the job well, and reward us with some choice stash."