Waynir turns to the group standing outside the mill and says;"Come now the night is closing in and its getting cold, I will answer what I can over some food and drink, Lets get inside",he pauses a moment places a friendly hand on Talfens shoulder and says with a smile on his face,"Yes,Talfen it is magical"
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It is the middle of the day, and once the doors are shut and the candles lit, everyone is treated to hot vegetable soup and thick slabs of dark solid bread, dwarven bread known as hever to some.
Some fresh water is left on the table alongside the obligatory uisge, the water of life. Dark and smoky whisky, the two clay jugs hold enough to get everyone drunk. As people settle down, the table rocks and creaks a little showing it is far from perfect in the making.
As well there are dusty cobwebs in the high corners of the stone walls, the uneven bricks provide many recesses for birds nests too.
The main room is large enough to house the mill stone and workings for the waterwheel at one end. Then there is the area for the table and a fireplace and kitchen of sorts. Above that the wooden stairs travel around and up to the bed chambers.
The sound of the wheel turning is like a soft creaking with the occasional thud thrown in for good measure.
There are several candles lit and melting, they are dotted about the place, but also there are two of bright green stones giving off good light from above the kitchen and entrance door.
Lazarus sits down to enjoy the repast after their eventful journey. He compliments the simple meal, and offers a quick word of gratitude to Waynir and his family efore starting to eat.
While he takes some Uisge, he doesn't ever indulge, instead sitting back and starting to talk to this group of people he's been asked to accompany at the Marquis' request.
"Well then boys, not the most auspicious of starts to this mission of ours, yet we seem to have handled ourselves quite well I'd say."
Turning to Talfen, in particular, he grins and states "Great job on taking down that group of horses young mageling. I can see why the Marquis wanted you along." He hoped this was encouraging for the half elf. Maybe if he could convnce the young man to drink a little spirits he might loosen up a little.
The little bard turns to each member of the group and congratulates them al on a job well done, commenting on teh martial prowess of the young lord and his guardian, and good naturedly ribbing Waynir about his driving.
"By morning, I shall weave teh tale into a legend worthy of the greatest kings hall. You shall all become legends, let me asure you."
Becoming more serious for a second, he leans forwards onto the rocking table and looks around "However, we must now talk of teh business at hand. Again I ask you Waynir, is there a means of contacting the Marquis and letting him know of our little ambush on the road? We must be wary now, for if the attack was not random, and we have no reason to think it should be. Then we must assume those causing trouble know of us and are quite happy to cause us harm. What steps can we take to better protect ourselves? Any thoughts?"
"I agree Lazarus it is an inauspicious start to our mission. And the timing of the assault was far too convenient. Someone doesn't want us to succeed and that bears mindin whilst we carry out our orders."
After having seen the ship they were to travel upon Vincent's brow creases as he looks to Waynir.
"Good Captain a question, how long will it take us to reach our destination by way of your vessel? I'm worried about how Roland and Dayspring will respond to a long ship voyage though they did very well on the way out here."
“Thankyou Lazerus,” says Talfen, taking a sip of his drink, then quickly putting the cup down as the potent spirit goes straight to his head. “I’ve never been in a situation quite like that before … something just took over. Adrenaline I suppose.”
He joins the general agreement about the attack. “If it were just men,” he says, “I would suppose that it was simply a political enemy of the Marquis … or someone who has reason not to want us to succeed,” he does not mention any names, though his thoughts go to the Marquis’ son, “who ordered it. But the presence of that thing – the vampire – very much unnerves me … and leads me to believe that it is not as simple as someone with a grudge against the Marquis or us. There is something sinister afoot.”
It’s a long speech for the normally reserved half-elf … perhaps the drink is doing him some good.
After gulping down a second helping of the hot steaming soup, Waynir wipes his mouth on his sleeve. He then proceeds to pick up a cup of the whisky, takes a sniff of the heady, peaty spirit and takes a sip, savouring the flavours bombarding his pallet. Waynir then calls to Sarel to thank her for the meal and to bring his pipe and baccy, which he loads with a large pinch of tobacco and lights it, with a thin taper from a pot on the mantle over the fire.
Turning first to Lazarus, he explains, that he was thinking of using pigeons to contact the Marquis, but they are not as easy to train as some think and that he thought Florde could travel back in the morning carrying a letter from the party.
Drawing a large lung full of smoke from the pipe and trying unsuccessfully to blow a smoke ring he looks at Vincent and says, "A good question, though time and distance are not the only factors one has to consider, the seas are a dangerous entity and we must of course rely on the wind, too little and it takes twice as long, too much and it could blow us off course altogether.
Waynir had been watching Helda hovering ever since he had got back and knows what she is waiting for, he strolls over to his pack, hung just inside the front door and spends a while searching. Pulling out four small packets wrapped with twine, he returns to the table and his drink.
Calling the little one over he gives her two of the packets, gets a long, "Thank you", before she runs off to open them sitting in front of the fire.The party watch as she carefully opens them saving the paper and string and looking at the contents, which are two pieces of bright green ribbon, a small carved figure of a bear and some sweets. She looks at Waynir with a smile that goes from ear to ear, Waynir winks at her, then in a blink of an eye she is gone, up the stairs to her room.
Sarel has been watching this whilst washing the dishes and clearing the table of leftover food and mutters to herself,"He spoils that child as if she were his own", as Sarel starts to clear the last of the leftovers, Waynir catches her arm and pulls her close, placing the last two packets in her hands. She sits on his knee and says,"You shouldn't waste your money on me", but is really thinking he does love me, ripping open the paper and snapping the string, she finds, two pieces of blue ribbon (the colour of her eyes), a mirror, comb and some exotic smelling sent. Kissing, Waynir for what seems like an eternity and blushing slightly after realising that she is being watched by everyone in the room, she disappears with the gifts to their bedroom, off the kitchen and shuts the door.
Waynir takes a large gulp of whisky.
"Well, who would have coined you as a romantic, good dwarf? Certainly not those misguided chaps." Armand takes a good sip of the whiskey, hoping the burning sensation will clear the taste of blood and scorched flesh from his mouth.
Before the hostess leaves Armand smiles and nods his head. "Dinner was excellent mi'lady. The perfect meal after a day such as this."
"We should send word the the Marquis as soon as is possible. I look forward to setting sail, and discovering more about the intrigues that surround our situation.
It would not be beyond someone with authority, or enough coin, to get one of those monsters in his employ. That said it unfortunately does not limit our suspects."
Talfen feels a little embarrassed by this insight into Waynir’s domestic life. Like he is an intruder, or a voyeur. How could anyone think that dwarves are monsters and child-stealers? he thinks. But then humans – and elves – are often unreasonably prejudiced. Well, perhaps may dwarves are too for all I know…
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Waynir
The mother comes back in a little while later composed and happy enough. She has a ribbon in her hair. Off in the distance, there is the mournful sound of a howl like a moorland wolf. The howl goes unanswered.
The womenfolk tidy away what is left of the meal when everyone appears to have finished. They laugh and giggle to themselves a bit before the girl heads outside to the stables to bed down the horses.
“Lazerus, will you help me pen a letter to the Marquis, explaining what has happened?” asks Talfen. “Your flair for the telling is no doubt better than mine.”
He then turns to Waynir. “When can we set sail Captain?” he asks.
I'm certainly sorry for anything on my part which may have lead to your decision FW. I know I definitely didn't keep up to expectations on this one. I think a part of the reason was as you already had such an intricate plot going on and I came on board so late, I just never really got into the head or mood of my character.
But I definitely appreciate your writing skills FW and would be happy to play on any other game you have. You can email me of post here if/when you do as it will show up on my RSS feed.
All the best all! Cheers!
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I am looking for six quality players for a low level pbp I am starting, sign up here if you are interested.
Cheers