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Red_Snow |
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Turn |
Title
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First posted
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Turn 16 |
Drifting Back To The
Inn
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27/12/99
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---Turn 16--- Duncan shrugged. "Ok, you know more about this situation then me, which method is better? Catapult or Ballista?" "You mean, is it better to lob the barrel up there or to ask someone to carry it up there, balance it on the edge in full view of them AND us, and get him to run back down here without them noticing or us torching the barrel? Umm, let me think…" "The catapult?" "I reckon." One of the crew chuckled in the background. "Safe, easy, and pretty accurate. Of course, it'd still be a bit of a waste if there isn't anyone up there, but that's not my problem, is it?" "Ok, good choice," Duncan replies, patting the man on the shoulder. "I'll go talk to the Alchemist anyway, and I can come back and help you out later if you need it." Finally turning his back on the mountain, he faced the other adventurers standing with him on the wall. "Well, what do you think? I won't do anything if we decide it's not worth it." "It's worth it if you can stop those goblins," Junither replied, turning to look at the hills above. The others shrugged noncommittally. "And you think it's a waste of time?" Duncan confirmed, turning back to Rat. Rat shrugged. "I'd say so, but then, I'm not in charge. We can't see them, so we don't know if they're there or no. We don't know how many there are, so we don't know if they're worth wasting a barrel of gunpowder on them…" He shrugged again, indicating that it wasn't his decision to make. "Ok then," Duncan said, looking down to the barrel near his feet, "You would know best. I think I'll go and see Urkan and ask him whether he has any other ideas on how we could use it." Turning to the rest of his fellow adventurers he added "if you all want to keep looking around, go ahead, I should be able to find my way back to the Dusty Throat alone. I guess Urkan will still be there." Duncan bade farewell to the rest of the group, and took the barrel back through the streets to the warmth of the Dusty Throat. ---Skip--- Xavier and Magden haggled for a while. Xavier made his position clear and made great efforts to point out his contribution to the town's defence. Magden pointed out that if he was so important, he could borrow the money, or get it directly from the Factor. Xavier got upset. Magden got grumpy. Xavier got sarcastic. Magden dropped the price to 16 Crowns. "Look, how about this?" said Xavier tersely. "I give you a down-payment of 8 Crowns, take the cloak, and go and establish my credit with the Factor. And you don't sell these while I'm away." Magden stared at the wall, cogs turning slowly inside his Halfling brain. "All right" he decided. "I'll only hold these until I shut up shop tonight, though. You'll have to take your chances with all the rest tomorrow!" Xavier grudgingly agreed and handed over the money. The door opened and Darmon apologetically entered. Xavier, stamping out, paused to hold the door open for
Darmon. "Good morning! If you're in the mood to be swindled, you've
come to the right place," he said with a bright smile. Darmon picked through the pile of clothes on Magden's counter and considered his options. He paid for the one-handed axe and what appeared to be the warmest, if poorly colour co-ordinated, collection of clothing he could find. He pulled his robe off over his head and picked up his first purchase. He pulled most of the clothes on immediately, hoping to feel warm for the first time in a long while. Pulling the robe back on and hefting the axe tentatively, he returned to the tavern ---Skip--- Amos dragged the back of one hand across his mouth as Martha interrupted. "- And loud noises. Could be anyone of a lot of things. Snow leopard, Dragon, Toa Suo, Elemental, Demon, Undead… Can you narrow it down at all?" Aenarion paused for a second. "There was also a crater beside the dead Goblin. It was still hot when we found it, although it was cooling fast." "Sounds like a Dragon to me." Amos decided smugly. "It's a fire-breathing Snow-Dragon." "Or a Wraith. Or a Demon." Amos glared at Martha who continued obliviously. "Or a Necromancer who doesn't mind damaging the goods. Or it could be a really pissed-off Zoat. That'd be a guy well-worth avoiding!" "Aren't Zoats forest-dwellers?" Storm let the door swing shut behind him, crashing against the frame. "They're mystics. They commune with the forest spirits but they occasionally travel to desolate places for spiritual enlightenment." Amos steepled his fingers knowledgeably and assumed a lecturing air. "The worship nature gods, gods of living things. They revere the forests as shrines to Life, but some seek to understand Life by studying life-less places -" "- And food-less places." Storm dumped the shield on a stool near the bar and piled his backpack and cloak on top of it. "Do you have any of that soup left?" "Sorry, you finished the last of it this morning. I can offer you a roll and some fowl for a few pennies." "Done." Storm plonked himself down onto a barstool while Martha levered herself up and headed for the fire-pit. "So, Amos, what do you reckon these Goblins will be up to, tonight?" Amos looked thoughtful, the fingers still tip-to-tip. "I reckon they'll attack tonight, as soon as it gets dark." "There's smoke rising from the chimneys." Storm added, thoughtfully. "Aye. They'll have mouths to feed, and they'll see that smoke and they'll smell the bread baking, and it'll get their stomach aching like nothing else. I wouldn't be surprised if they storm the wall tonight." "Do you think they'll make it down as far as the wall?" "They've not done it before, but…" "So it'll be all hands to the wall tonight then." "Ha!" Martha re-emerged from the corner carrying a wooden platter. A slab of white meat and a crusty brown roll were balanced on top. She dropped the platter on the bar-top in front of Storm and made a series of marks against a thundercloud symbol on the wall before sitting back down on her stool. "The Factor will never stand for that. He thinks the Guard is there to handle the Goblins, and the men-folk are there to work in the pit. He'll send them early to bed and order Urkan and his lot to protect us or to die in the attempt. No" - she added - "He won't think of THAT alternative!" The Elf, the old man, the mercenary, and the innkeeper looked up as Duncan pushed the door open with one hand, the barrel under his arm. "What's it look like from the walls?" Martha leaned back on her stool, lifting her fat elbows off the wooden bar. "Anything happening?" Grunting, Duncan lifted the barrel up and stood it on the bar. "Excuse me, good lady, is there a place where I could put this barrel? It contains gunpowder, and if you have a suitable place I could store it, I would be very grateful. I'm sick of carrying it around, and I'm sure you do not want me to leave it here." "Gunpowder? Stick it out the back, I guess: In the larder. The walls are solid stone - it keeps the food fresh." Duncan nodded, hefted the barrel aloft once more, and disappeared out the back. "Is Urkan still asleep upstairs?" Duncan asked Martha, stretching his arms out after finally being freed from carrying the gunpowder. The joints cracked. "He's sleeping like a baby." Amos grinned gamely. "He was up all night with his guards and I suppose he'll be up all night tonight, too." "Thanks you, I will wait here for him if you don't mind." Duncan replied, smiling, heading towards one of the free stools in the centre of the room and making himself comfortable. By accident, he sat with his back to the door, jumping when Darmon carefully creaked the heavy door open. ---End Turn--- |
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