Hmmm... what was it those people were talking about earlier? Kriv ponders as he tries to remember something he overheard.
"I should seek news of the Clanhold. Does anyone know that fellow there? Where his loyalties lie?" He gestures towards the card-playing dwarf.
"That's Adronsius," Ceelie says through another spoonful of stew, her voice low enough not to carry, "An alchemist by trade. Makes potions. Good ones, too. I've used a few. He's a businessman and also a cardsharp. You don't want to gamble with him or you'll lose your money right quick. I have no idea what clan he's from..."
She glances sidelong at the other table, only her eyes moving and not her head so as not to give away her interest in them.
"The young man is Hess. Adronsius' apprentice. Loyal and a hard worker. Not a very good card player, though. The other one is Ben. Hess follows him around like a lost puppy sometimes. That's because Ben's a real wizard-for-hire. I've done some work for him before...picking up knick-knacks he finds useful for spells and such. He's probably the smartest one at the table. And he'll give Adronsius a run for his money. Not because he's all that good at cards, mind you. He's just good at playing the odds. You don't want to cross him either. Ben's got a tendency to burn things...with magic fire...if you get my drift. The guy's friendly enough though. Soft-hearted. Always willing to lend a hand to people in need. Gets him in trouble sometimes."
"So, you got a name, girl?" asks Aelwyn, trying to discern which half of her -- if any -- really contains the elf part. "I might know some of your people."
At this question, Ceelie pauses in mid-bite. She puts her spoon down and reaches for her knife, freeing it from the center of the table. She coolly examines the blade for a moment before tucking it away in one of the myriad sheathes tied about her arms, legs, and waist.
"The name's Ceelie...Merveaux..." she finally answers, "My mother's name. Can't say as I ever knew my father all that well. I hear he went by Ivellios, though. Common enough among elves. But I don't think of them as 'my people.' I don't really have a 'people.' And that's fine by me. I make my own way. That's all I've ever needed."
Ben's Per check vs Ceelie Stealth: (1d20 1=15)
Unaware of the newcomer at the table across the room, Ben continues to play Three Dragon Ante with Andronsius and Hess.
Having gotten over his initial gesture of compassion toward the wizard, the dwarf is now seriously trying to see what he can get Ben to give up in the last few hands before the tavern fills up for the evening. Even the serving maid raises an eyebrow at the way the cards tend to travel from draw deck, to hand, to discard, and from player to player. Ben thinks, not for the first time that evening, that he is glad they are playing for coppers.
"The name's Ceelie...Merveaux..." she finally answers, "My mother's name. Can't say as I ever knew my father all that well. I hear he went by Ivellios, though. Common enough among elves. But I don't think of them as 'my people.' I don't really have a 'people.' And that's fine by me. I make my own way. That's all I've ever needed."
Ah, thinks Aelwyn. So that's the elven part. Fiercely independent--but I'll bet she's hiding something...
Aelwyn simply tilts her head to the side and nods before turning her attention to teasing Kriv. "We can't keep the girls off of you tonight, can we, old chap?" she asks merrily, enjoying the thick stew almost as much as her companion's reaction.
Kriv grunts in slight annoyance.
"This Troyas you mentioned earlier," he says by way of reply, "There seems to be some tension between the various groups in the town regarding him. Some view him as an excitable 'upstart' (not my words), others as a visionary leader. Not an uncommon split of opinion where authority figures are concerned."
"This Troyas you mentioned earlier....There seems to be some tension between the various groups in the town regarding him. Some view him as an excitable 'upstart' (not my words), others as a visionary leader. Not an uncommon split of opinion where authority figures are concerned."
"Troyas? The councilman?" Ceelie perks an eyebrow as she studies her stew bowl for another morsel of tasty meat, "Those who think of him as an 'upstart' are too dense to know trouble when they hear it. Though I don't think he's any more 'visionary' than the average citizen. Doesn't take a genius to know goblins are about these days. And even less to know you should look after you and your own when they are..."
"Be that as it may," Kriv says like a patient school-master, "I merely report what the vox populi has muttered. I myself am indifferent to any squabbles here."
"Be that as it may," Kriv says like a patient school-master, "I merely report what the vox populi has muttered. I myself am indifferent to any squabbles here."
"Suit yourself," Ceelie shrugs. "I'm indifferent to your indifference," she adds with a grin, then elbows Dravos, "So what are you on about these days? Keeping busy?"
Kriv squints at the half-elf as if trying to decide whether she is intentionally rude or blithely unknowing, before turning to Aelwyn and shaking his head with a sigh, I meant no offence, and yet she perceives it in any comment that is put to her. he thinks.
"Well, her discomfort manifests itself in many ways," he mutters to his elven friend when out of Ceelie's earshot. "Strange that she and this Dravos can be friends." he adds without seemingly aware of the irony of their own relationship.
"Strange that she and this Dravos can be friends." he adds without seemingly aware of the irony of their own relationship.
"Stranger things have happened," Aelwyn whispers and smiles, regarding her albino Dragonborn friend. "If she's a friend of the dwarf, and as good with her knives as she advertises herself to be, she may be useful. Dwarves value loyalty; I'll let Dravos take the lead as to how far she should be trusted."
"Suit yourself," Ceelie shrugs. "I'm indifferent to your indifference," she adds with a grin, then elbows Dravos, "So what are you on about these days? Keeping busy?"
"No, By the Hammer, I am not busy," Dravos grumbles with a barely disguised hint of irritation. "I was to head north the day before yesterday with a caravan bound for Red Rock and across the Giant's Shield. However, the wagon master was ill prepared and had to beg off for a day. I have since heard he has disbanded the caravan altogether and fled south with his hirelings abandoning his cargo. Afraid of the Red Hand, no doubt."
The dwarf sighs before taking another bite of stew and continuing in a hushed voice. "There is another job, down the Dawn's Way to Drellin's, but it won't leave for a fortnight - if it leaves at all. The pay is meager, but at least it will keep the ale flowing."
"No, By the Hammer, I am not busy," Dravos grumbles with a barely disguised hint of irritation. "I was to head north the day before yesterday with a caravan bound for Red Rock and across the Giant's Shield. However, the wagon master was ill prepared and had to beg off for a day. I have since heard he has disbanded the caravan altogether and fled south with his hirelings abandoning his cargo. Afraid of the Red Hand, no doubt."
The dwarf sighs before taking another bite of stew and continuing in a hushed voice. "There is another job, down the Dawn's Way to Drellin's, but it won't leave for a fortnight - if it leaves at all. The pay is meager, but at least it will keep the ale flowing."
Ceelie laughs with genuine amusement at her dour friend.
In Dwarven:
She raises her stolen mug as if to toast a possible future of fending for themselves on the streets even if the caravan masters are too afraid to travel. She takes a drink and wipes her mouth, then mellows a bit when she senses the seriousness of Dravos' mood.
"So who's to say we couldn't look into these Red Hand rumors?" she decides to change tactics, "If Troyas really wants proof so he can raise the militia and protect Brindol, maybe he'd be willing to finance a little scouting party? Me, you, your friends here...and maybe we could convince Ben over there if we make it worth his while. Like I said, he's a wizard-for-hire. And if there are goblins on the march again, it'd be nice to have someone that can burn the lot of 'em while we pick off the stragglers. At the very least, our efforts might get the caravans rolling again..."
Blissfully unaware of the interesting turn of topic at the other table, Ben lays a card, face-down, into the flight in front of him.
The dwarf glowers at the tall human. "Yer bluffin' lad. Ah kin tell." He complains in a voice like gravel at the unusual play from the wizard.
Ben simply smiles, showing a mouthful of white teeth. "Well, you see, that's the danger of playing with people you know." He replies, obviously enjoying the dwarf's discomfort over the blatant play.
"You know me well enough to know that I don't like to bluff. So when someone calls my bluff, they usually end up with a face full of flame for their trouble. Of course, dealing with bandits is a little different than dealing cards." He smirks.
Ben leans back, obviously warming up like a teacher with his favorite subject. "And of course, just because I don't like to bluff doesn't mean I can't. And I know you well enough to know that you've taken that into account. So the question is, did I make a real play, or did I manage to overcome my dislike of bluffing enough to pretend like I did? Or,... am I just bluffing about the bluffing?" HE grins.
The dwarf shakes his head. "Ah hates wizards. Allways messin' around and confusin' a simple card game with circular logic!"
The three men made their antes, played their cards, and revealed the upside down cards in their flights. Adronsious spat a dwarven curse as Hess took the modest pot. "AH knowed you were bluffin! All o that talk about 'not liken to bluff' an' 'don't mean I can't,... Hess, you won, so the next rounds on you!"
Still smiling from his win, the apprentice nodded happily and headed for the bar to refill the mugs. When he walked away from the table the dwarf turned to wizard. He grumbled in a dull roar.
"If'n ah didn't know you so well, I'd have said you cheated. I know yer no shark, so it woulda have ta been magic. Ah knowed the boy didn't draw that card, and I know he didn't get it from me,..." He glowered at the human.
"MY dear Adron!" Ben said with mock alarm. "You wound me sir! I would never use magic in a game with you! I need my healing potions to heal, not turn me into a rabbit!" As he spoke, with a flick of his wrist he produced a card, a flower, a handkerchief, and a small shower of golden motes that fell to the table before fading away. Ben smiled. "Besides, you know he got that card from me. The last green dragon he played let him pull a card from my hand. How was I supposed to know he would take the 'Bahumut'?" HE asks all wide-eyed and innocent. "And you know that holding your hand a certain way to encourage the drawing of a certain card is suggestion, not magic."
The dwarf chuckled again, the sound of gargling gravel making Ben flinch. "So, yeh were bluffing!"
Ben smiled. "Of course! I knew I couldn't beat your hand, even with the King of Dragons, so I distracted you, knowing you wouldn't be expecting it from Hess!" Ben looked over the dwarf's shoulder to make sure that Hess wasn't returning yet. But Hess was being completely preoccupied with the flirtations of Earod's serving girl. (Not the barkeep's daughter, the new one. 'How come I can never remember her name?' Ben complained to himself. He turned his attention back to the dwarf and whispers hastily.
"Alright. You've told me the rumors. How bad is it really? Why isn't the local guild of brainless penny-pinchers paying attention to the guy who's trying to save their worthless hides? Even if it's not another full-scale invasion like ten years ago, no one in their right minds wants a tribe of Orcs camping on their doorstep! Or even their neighbor's doorstep! Out of all the people I know, you're the one most likely to be involved at the right meetings. What's really going on?!" He asks.
"So who's to say we couldn't look into these Red Hand rumors?" she decides to change tactics, "If Troyas really wants proof so he can raise the militia and protect Brindol, maybe he'd be willing to finance a little scouting party? Me, you, your friends here...and maybe we could convince Ben over there if we make it worth his while. Like I said, he's a wizard-for-hire. And if there are goblins on the march again, it'd be nice to have someone that can burn the lot of 'em while we pick off the stragglers. At the very least, our efforts might get the caravans rolling again..."
"Hmmmmph!" Dravos squints and scratches his beard as he eyes the wizard as critically as he would a piece of merchandise.
"I'll consider him, but he had better be showing more control of his spells than he has o'er his ale! No place'll be safe ere long if the Hand is on the march. Goblins make for far more danger than a parlor, ye ken?"
After considering the matter for a moment more, Dravos turns to squarely face Ceelie. "Very well. Where can we find this Troyas?" Then, more inclusively to the rest of the table: "An have ye others any desire to join up?"
"I'll consider him, but he had better be showing more control of his spells than he has o'er his ale! No place'll be safe ere long if the Hand is on the march. Goblins make for far more danger than a parlor, ye ken?"
"I'll vouch for him," Ceelie offers with a grin, "Besides, we can't all drink ale with as much ease as a dwarf, can we? And if he doesn't pan out, well...he'll be my responsibility, I guess."
After considering the matter for a moment more, Dravos turns to squarely face Ceelie. "Very well. Where can we find this Troyas?"
"I'm pretty sure I know where to find him," she answers, then she smiles as she ponders her ale again, "This should be fun. Lots better than hanging around in Brindol with people either too dumb or too frightened to take action."
Not even waiting for agreement from the other two, she pats Dravos on the shoulder, takes another swig of ale and then rises from the table. "I'll go check on Ben's availability while you three talk it over," she says, then offers one more comment to Dravos.
In Dwarven:
Ceelie then crosses the distance between their table and the card players on the other side of the room. The pommels and handles of the many knives and blades sheathed across her body glint in the light as she moves. Adronsius is the first to spot her coming.
"Howdy, boys..." she greets them, coming up behind Ben and casually reading his cards over the wizard's shoulder. She lifts her chin in Adronsius' direction. "You taking these fools for all their coin, Adron?"
Then, in all seriousness, she leans down and speaks in a low voice for Ben's ears only. "A few of us are talking about a job for one of the councilors," she offers, "Would you be interested?"
"Howdy, boys..." she greets them, coming up behind Ben and casually reading his cards over the wizard's shoulder. She lifts her chin in Adronsius' direction. "You taking these fools for all their coin, Adron?"
"Hello Ceelie" Ben smirks as Ceelie's voice, and hand, comes from over his shoulder. He notices that her shadow never once crossed his cards. "Not all of it, but I think he's feeling generous today."
Then, in all seriousness, she leans down and speaks in a low voice for Ben's ears only. "A few of us are talking about a job for one of the councilors," she offers, "Would you be interested?"
"Mm. I can always spare time for a chat." Ben replies out loud. "I think I'll call it quits while I still have some coins left Adron. I'll come by after the weekend, we can set up a schedule for Hess that won't interfere with yours. Thanks again for dinner. I'll see you boys next week!" He says, parting company with the alchemists. He takes his mug and starts to follow Ceelie, then stops. "Oh, Hang on a 'tic Ceelie."
He turns back to the table, holds out his hand, beckons with his forefinger and whispers, 'Forzare.'Obediently, his staff bumps once, then floats to his waiting hand. He turns back to Ceelie and winks. "Now, lead on m'lady!" He smirks, motioning for Ceelie to precede him with a small flourish.
"Mm. I can always spare time for a chat." Ben replies out loud. "I think I'll call it quits while I still have some coins left Adron. I'll come by after the weekend, we can set up a schedule for Hess that won't interfere with yours. Thanks again for dinner. I'll see you boys next week!" He says, parting company with the alchemists.
"Sorry to steal him away from you, Adron," Ceelie gives the dwarf a semi-sultry wink, leaving him to wonder about what she whispered in the wizard's ear that got him to leave so suddenly...and purposefully misleading Adronsius so he will assume she and Ben are involved somehow rather than let him learn the truth. Ceelie's smile can't help but widen as she relishes the thought of pulling off her own bluff against the gambler.
He takes his mug and starts to follow Ceelie, then stops. "Oh, Hang on a 'tic Ceelie." He turns back to the table, holds out his hand, beckons with his forefinger and whispers, 'Forzare.' Obediently, his staff bumps once, then floats to his waiting hand. He turns back to Ceelie and winks. "Now, lead on m'lady!" He smirks, motioning for Ceelie to precede him with a small flourish.
"Show-off..." Ceelie responds, her eyes matching the wizard's smirk, "Always the showman. You so love being the center of attention." She takes his arm rather than precede him. After all, it's better to have a fire-mage beside her rather than follwing behind. "Maybe that's why you lose to Adron more often than you beat him?" she suggests, "You show too much. When a little would suffice."
She pauses and looks up at him on their way back to Dravos and the others. "But of course, where's the fun in that, right?" she continues, "Life is short. And when you have power, it can become magnified in the eyes of others as long as you show it off from time to time."
Once they reach the table, Ceelie lets go of the wizard's arm and pats his shoulder as if showing off a prize she's brought everyone. "Lady and gents, I give you Ben Blackstone," she announces, "Rescued from a penniless future and delivered intact as promised. Normally, I'd ask for a finder's fee...but seeing as how he was just on the other side of the room..." She stops and smiles.
"Show-off..." Ceelie responds, her eyes matching the wizard's smirk, "Always the showman. You so love being the center of attention." ,.... "Maybe that's why you lose to Adron more often than you beat him?" she suggests, "You show too much. When a little would suffice."
Ben nods and pats her hand. "Maybe that's it. Or maybe I'm just too darned impatient to pull a good bluff!"
She pauses and looks up at him on their way back to Dravos and the others. "But of course, where's the fun in that, right?" she continues, "Life is short. And when you have power, it can become magnified in the eyes of others as long as you show it off from time to time."
"And you know me, I'm all about fun! And a little showing off never hurts." HE says with a mock pout. Then grins again. "And if the tale grows a little with every re-telling, well, I don't personally know of any wizards who have suffered from having too good of a reputation!" With a final wink at Ceelie, his face resumes it's usual neutral expression as they reach the table.
Once they reach the table, Ceelie lets go of the wizard's arm and pats his shoulder as if showing off a prize she's brought everyone. "Lady and gents, I give you Ben Blackstone," she announces, "Rescued from a penniless future and delivered intact as promised. Normally, I'd ask for a finder's fee...but seeing as how he was just on the other side of the room..." She stops and smiles.
Ben smirks at this. "Not penniless, but that's mostly by luck. Adronsius is a formidable opponent, at least when it comes to Three-Dragon Ante! Greetings gentlefolk." HE says, pulling Ceelie's chair back out for her, then snagging another out for him. If he has any surprise that he is now sharing a table with an elf, a dwarf, and a dragonborn, it doesn't show. His staff he rests against the table within easy reach. Just because Ceelie vouched for them didn't necessarily mean that they would be friendly towards him.
"The name's Benjamin, but if Ceelie says you can call me 'Ben', well, I haven't found any way to stop her!" He smirks another half smile as he looks around the table, he meets everyone's face easily enough, but manages to avoid looking, directly, into their eyes. After all, when your a wizard, there are some things that you have to be careful about.
"So," he says pleasantly after nodding to everyone. "Ceelie tells me your looking to put together a little outing, and that you might could use a little extra firepower? What's up?"
Kriv folds his arms slowly and exhales, whilst looking at his elven friend, as if to say Well I suppose we must go along with it...
He looks at Ben and nods, "Kriv Flamebrow" he says simply.
With Ceelie across the room conversing with the card players, Aelwyn drops her voice and looks at Dravos with an unusually serious expression. "Tell me, do you really trust..." she nods toward the corner where Ceelie just went, and raises an eyebrow.
But when Ceelie returns with her "wizard-for-hire," Aelwyn turns on the pleasantries. "Finder's fee?" she asks wide-eyed. "Was he lost?"
"Have a seat," she says to the already-seated newcomers, her eyes twinkling. "Aelwyn Thornblood of the Witchwood. We seem to have a goblin issue."
...when Ceelie returns with her "wizard-for-hire," Aelwyn turns on the pleasantries. "Finder's fee?" she asks wide-eyed. "Was he lost?"
"Oh you have no idea..." Ceelie jokes.
"The name's Benjamin, but if Ceelie says you can call me 'Ben', well, I haven't found any way to stop her!"
"And you never will..." she interjects.
"Have a seat," she says to the already-seated newcomers, her eyes twinkling. "Aelwyn Thornblood of the Witchwood. We seem to have a goblin issue."
"Or rather, Brindol does," Ceelie adds, "But we've got an angle on it that might drum us up a business opportunity."
"I'll vouch for him," Ceelie offers with a grin, "Besides, we can't all drink ale with as much ease as a dwarf, can we? And if he doesn't pan out, well...he'll be my responsibility, I guess."
Dravos grunts a muffled "Indeed" around a large bite of tender elk and watches closely as Ceelie approaches the strange card-players.
When she returns with Ben, he looks squarely past the Wizard as he introduces himself, "Stonebrow of BlackIron, Servant of He who Forged the World by the Might of His Hands."
"Or rather, Brindol does," Ceelie adds, "But we've got an angle on it that might drum us up a business opportunity."
"Yes, though the matter begs some discretion if we are to keep this 'opportunity' amongst ourselves," Dravos says between bites. "Tell us, wizard, can you keep your own counsel?"
"An honor Master Kriv, Lady Aelwyn, Master Stonebrow." Ben nods to each as they introduce themselves.
We seem to have a goblin issue."
"Or rather, Brindol does," Ceelie adds, "But we've got an angle on it that might drum us up a business opportunity."
"Yes, though the matter begs some discretion if we are to keep this 'opportunity' amongst ourselves," Dravos says between bites. "Tell us, wizard, can you keep your own counsel?"
One side of Ben's mouth twists in a slight smirk. "Wizards are generally very good at keeping secrets. Sometimes too good!"
He levelly meets Dravos's gaze, again managing to do so without looking directly into his eyes."I know how to keep my mouth shut Master Stonebrow. Bad for business otherwise. So, what 'angle' did you have in mind?" He asks softly, leaning in a little closer.
"...So, what 'angle' did you have in mind?" he asks softly, leaning in a little closer.
"Councilor Troyas," Ceelie states, letting Ben soak in the name and conjure up whatever impression he might have of the man and his intentions.
"He's making a lot of talk about organizing the militia," she continues, "Starting patrols and investigating these rumors of goblin activity. We're thinking a well-connected man like that might have a bit of coin to fund a small scouting party such as ourselves. With caravans held up for fear of the roads, we'd be doing a service to Brindol, too. And if we can bring back proof of Troyas' claims, it'll make it that much easier to sell his claims to the rest of the Council and the townsfolk. Business is gonna be kind of slow around here unless somebody looks into this stuff. Might as well get paid for our efforts while doing it, don't you think?"
Baffled at having been rebuffed earlier upon mentioning Troyas, Kriv maintains his silence, wary of the half-elf.
Ben strokes his goatee as Ceelie explains. He ponders for a few moments.
"Troyas huh?"
He smirks, possibly at some private joke.
"Why not? Troyas coin spends as well as anybody else's. And I have heard some disturbing rumors lately. OK. If Troyas is footing the bill, I'm in. Somebody needs to find out what's going on. And those ham-handed businessmen who are trying to run the place sure aren't going to get it done."
"Uh-oh," whispers Aelwyn, her normally jovial and wide eyes narrowed, "it looks like we might have some competition."
Insight (1d20+2=5) History (1d20+10=11)
"What is the matter?" Kriv asks his elven friend.
Insight check... (1d20+3 = 16) Untrained History check... (1d20 = 7)
"Yeah...what's the problem?" Ceelie murmurs, polishing off her mug of pilfered ale and then hiding the cup next to Dravos' while everyone's attention is diverted by the new arriver.
"The Farstriders are in town -- Edgar Sommerfield's merry band of sell-swords. That, over there," she indicates the crimson-clad half-elf with a slight tilt of her head, "is Jen, Sommerfield's half-elf Warlock." And one of the reasons why I don't trust half-elves, she adds mentally, again sizing up the brash rogue sitting across from her.
"The Farstriders are in town -- Edgar Sommerfield's merry band of sell-swords. That, over there," she indicates the crimson-clad half-elf with a slight tilt of her head, "is Jen, Sommerfield's half-elf Warlock."
Ceelie glances over her shoulder at the half-elven warlock, coolly appraising the girl's get-up. "Seems a bit...showy," she comments, then adds a verbal barb just to needle Ben, "Ought to be your type, don't you think?"
She looks back to Aelwyn after that. "But...the Farstriders?" Ceelie draws out the pompous title with a palpable sense of disdain, "Okay. So they're potential rivals in the sell-sword market. But just how far have they managed to 'stride,' exactly?"
Ellice returns to the end of your table with five mugs of foamy ale despite the fact that no one ordered any.
"Thanks," Ceelie murmurs. 'More free ale!' she thinks, taking another sip.
If left untended, she quickly clears your trencher whether you were done with it or not.
Ceelie instinctively defends her bowl of stew by shielding it with one arm propped under her chin. Once Ellice moves away, she goes back to picking through it, half-listening to Aelwyn and half-keeping an eye on the half-elven warlock at the bar. ()
...the exotic Half-Elf leans over the bar and has a whispered* conversation with Earod.
'Well now, there's a bit of business taking place,' Ceelie mentally notes, 'I wonder what the sell-sword's discussing...?' She slips out of her chair and heads toward the bar with her mug of ale as if to have a word with the bartender about it. She even makes a sour face to suggest she hasn't found it to her liking in order to cover her approach.
Bluff check... (1d20+7 = 19)
Perception check... (1d20+6 = 18)
Unfortunately, it seems the conversation is over as quickly as it began and Ceelie can't make out enough words to even get a sense of what passed between them. She takes another swig of ale and relaxes her expression of dissatisfaction. Then, she shrugs her shoulders and retreats to the table again as if no longer finding it so unpalatable after a second taste. When she arrives, she frowns as she notices her bowl of stew was liberated during her absence.
'Great!' she chides herself, 'Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say...'
She looks back to Aelwyn after that. "But...the Farstriders?" Ceelie draws out the pompous title with a palpable sense of disdain, "Okay. So they're potential rivals in the sell-sword market. But just how far have they managed to 'stride,' exactly?"
"Well, when it comes to men, Jen will go about as far as she can go," Aelwyn chuckles mirthlessly. "She's hooked up with a man I knew named Corben, who also fights for Sommerfield. There are a couple of others in the group, the Elves Uulath and Reinar, twins. Sommerfield himself if a veteran of the Battle of Brindol, and they travel all over the Vale. Rare to see them in town, though... Something must be going on."
"Why not? Troyas coin spends as well as anybody else's. And I have heard some disturbing rumors lately. OK. If Troyas is footing the bill, I'm in. Somebody needs to find out what's going on. And those ham-handed businessmen who are trying to run the place sure aren't going to get it done."
Dravos grumbles in response to Ben's reply and takes a renewed interest in the remains of his stew. Dredging a piece of torn bread through the gravy, he barely has it in his mouth when the serving girl sweeps away what is left of his portion and replaces it with a brimming tankard of ale.
"Hey! What? Oh nevermind," he mutters to her retreating back. Eyeing the drink suspiciously, he ventures to slide it aside with the tip of his finger. Then he studiouly ignores it as the others focus their attention on the distracting presence of the bald half-elf woman at the bar.
He turns slightly in his chair as Ceelie excuses herself. Almost without thought or effort, his free hand comes to rest on the haft of his hammer. "More mercenaries, eh?"
A man stumbles in, down the hall, and collapses in a heap on the floor. Though his face is bloody and his apron slashed and tattered, you recognize him. It is Hess, the alchemist’s apprentice.
"Eh?" Dravos grumbles, looking to the others. Then, dropping his hammer with a loud CLUNK, he lumbers to the youth's side and none-too-gently rolls him over to tend his wounds.
"I never was much good with ones so frail..." he mutters under his beard.
Giving long looks at one another, the thought of removing to a livelier bar passes wordlessly around your table when the back door opens suddenly. A man stumbles in, down the hall, and collapses in a heap on the floor. Though his face is bloody and his apron slashed and tattered, you recognize him. It is Hess, the alchemist’s apprentice.
Recognizing Hess as quickly as anyone, including his injured state, Ceelie rises with Dravos. While the dwarf looks to the boy's wounds, she slips past the fallen apprentice and heads for the door, a short-bladed dagger already drawn and held tightly along her forearm. She nudges the door open just enough to peer outside.
Perception check... (1d20+6 = 10)
Unfortunately, the light of the tavern and the noise of its concerned patrons leaves little opportunity for Ceelie to see who might have wounded Hess or followed after him.
Aelwyn hops onto the table and instinctively grasps her bow and draws an arrow. "Is that your card-playing partner?" she asks Ben. She scans the room and tries to catch a glimpse outside the door.
Kriv stands up, alert for danger and concerned for the youth. He strides over.
"Allow me," he says quietly.
With great delicacy he takes out a small metal cylinder from a pouch, and kneeling beside Hess, unstoppers the container and takes out a pinch of powder.
Placing it in his palm he blows on it and it sparkles as if lit by an inner flame. Propelled by an unseen breeze, the dust settles on the young man and disappears.
As the restorative formula settles on the limp body, Dravos staggers back, his arm raised defensively in front of his face. He breathes heavily once ... twice ... three times before deciding it is safe and lowering his arm.
He shoots Kriv a sideways glance as he makes ready to lift Hess. "I'll have none a your magic dust getting in my eyes, Your Grace, especially not now."
Heaving the lad over his stout shoulder and half-dragging him behind the bar, casually knocking aside empty casks and untended glassware in the process. He continues somewhat louder, "Blood has been spilled this night."
Then aside to Earod: "Goodman, fetch me my hammer and shield."
"By all the Forge-Fires of the Deep! Blood has been spilled and it demands recompense!"