Day One Red Squadron
Open Red
Ah, the road is long and hard, but finally I reach Daggorford. A small
community with a small keep nestled against the Delimbyr River. It is
the last decent town on the last leg of the road to Waterdeep. Only
another 150 miles to go, but though I see the crossing bridge before me
the inn just before it beckons me enter. I see by the sun that it is
about four hours past the mid of day, and how much further could I go
this evening, if I were willing that is? I am only a weaver of tales
and not much used to exercise of this sort.
No, the doors of The Silver Ladle swing gently open at my touch, and
even as my weary feet hit the threshold, the bearded bartender grins
my way. His hands deftly grab a mug and as he fills it with a dark
amber ale, he calls out in a friendly tone, "Ho, stranger, and
well met! First one's on the house, friend." My feet seem to dance
to the bar, and even as I take a deep draught, he continues, "I am
Kyle, son of Tabek. Who might you be? Which way do your travels take
you?"
I answer softly, though most of the answers are not vital, and only pass
the time until another traveller, weary of the road as are we all, enters
and Kyle, son of Tabek, goes to serve and greet them. The only true
information I have, is of the caravan a mile away to the south.
It is making it's way here, though slowly, as one of the wagon wheels
is sorely damaged and in need of a smith. This information earns me a
quick refill, of which I was much in need.
Shortly, I am in need of one more ale, this one to sip at my leisure.
After being served, I turn and take a chair at a large round table
with it's center cut out, that lies in the midst of the room. Jutting
forth from it's center is an outcropping of rock. It is a fire pit,
though as yet the logs have not been lit, for it was a warm enough day
eventhough it is still Tarsakh of the Storms,(thank the gods it has
not stormed these last few days). This is obviously the common table,
while along the sides there are a few tables with booths for dining
or discussions of a more private nature.
As I sit, I peruse the other traveller's who have entered and taken
a place at this magnificent treasure of a table.
(Jeathrohtl) First enters an elf, stepping lightly in worn leathers
with an impish/frolicking gleam in his brown eyes and a perky grin. He
is like a small child in that even my twelve year old daughter is already
his ht and wt, maybe even more.
(Foldis) Then in tromps a short and squat dwarf, yes shorter than most
dwarves I've seen. And her face is extremely ruddy with her hair
braided down the back and tied with a leather thong. I almost rise
up and ask if I can be of assistance, for a painful ache is etched on
her face, though she does not seem to be physically hurt.
(Cyril) After a few more sips of my ale, in comes a dark complected
young man wearing glasses and a robe. Even through the folds in his
robe, I can tell he is strong for one of his profession.
(Phearez) Then a bony youth, wearing a black cloak makes a
quiet entrance. His face is tinged a pale blue with strong, steel
grey eyes (which perch a top his bony nose) peering forth quite intelligently.
(Christeel Tavvic) Almost directly behind is an elf with well
groomed golden hair and vibrant violet eyes, and his mail is polished
and extremely well taken care of.
(Thad Forinth) Then a human teenager enters with a spry step despite
being slightly overweight. One so young, and already a slight paunch
developing. He takes quite a look around, and after some whispered
words to the innkeeper, he takes a seat near me. Almost immediately
he begins to ask me questions about my trade. He is bright and well-
mannered and reminds me of a younger me when I first started out, well
except for the raspy voice. Certainly I will teach you one of my
favorite ballads, I hear myself saying, distractedly.
(Onyx Strongarm) And about to, I am, but then the door slams open and
in stomps another dwarf. Eventhough this one is male, he is as ruddy
complected as his female counterpart. He is a couple of inches taller
than her, and shame to say it, his beard is scraggly. Such a thing
of pride and it has gone to hell and back it seems.
And even as I look at them as a whole, I get a peculiar twinge in
my gut that things are moving in the realms and these beings will
somehow be a part and parcel to it all. Yes, it seems these seven
will be a group to behold, and perhaps I shall do just that.
What else would a simple storyteller do?
Turn #1 21st of Tarsakh of the Storms
Each of you finds yourself seated at the common table as half an
hour later, the door crashes open and in comes a large built human
bearing a scar from forehead to cheek, intersecting the left eye,
which he does not even bother to patch over. At his belt are
worn a dagger on one side, and dangling on the right is a coiled
whip. His eyes scan the room haughtily and centering on the
round table where you are seated, he scornfully says, "My boss
is looking for a few caravan guards, though there's not a decent
guard among you. Dwarves and gnomes, and no elf ever
knew the meaning of hardwork. Worthless, mangy, whoreson's the
lot of you. Well, who want's the..."
Even while your attention is focused on him, through the door
comes a youth, his neck and face an awful crimson hue that rises
above his worn leathers. He is not tall, nor heavily weighted,
but without even hearing him speak, he draws your attention,
with his bright emerald eyes(though now, they flame nearly red),
and his strong, bold chin. When he does, speak it is soft, the
obvious anger held in check, and just barely loud enough for
you to hear him.
"Ever since Baldur's Gate, you have been trouble. This is the
last straw. Get your stuff. Get out of here!" It is short
and clipped, but the scarred man blanches as he faces the manchild.
After a few seconds, the youth turns his back and steps toward
the table. When he speaks again, his voice is gentle and with
just a slight quiver, does his anger still show through. "My
apologies to you all. Allow me to buy you a round of Tabek's Red."
As the youth motions to the barkeep, you watch as the older
man's hands twitch once, twice, and his face visibly hardens.
He reaches for the whip, and in a flash it is loose and uncoiled,
it's tip lying on the floor behind him.
RED SQUADRON TURN 1
CHRISTEEL TAVVIC
> [unseen
servant]
"Now sir I don't believe that this situation needs to come to
viloence. This nice young man has offered to by us a drink
perhaps you would put down that whip and join us at the table.
You may even have my chair, if that is what you would like"
I will personally buy you a drink, of course that would mean
that you might have to lower your high standards and maybe
make a new friend or two. I am somewhat tired from my travels
and wish just to put my tired feet up for a little while and
just rest. Are you actually going to attack everone at this
table just because you are having a bad day. Come have a sit"
[If the man attacks, Christeel will try to subdue]
_____After the issue is resolved________
"Hello gang and tis nice to meet you, I am Christeel a Grey
Elf of many talents but master of none."
later on in the conversation.
"If we are to become a group, We need to come up with a name
for our new group. Let's see something will all have in
common. Ahh Red for the drink that we are all having, but
it needs something more. Red group, Red troop, Red patrol,
Red gang, Red Table
Yes, I like it. Red Squad!! What do the rest of you think
of the name?
==== Christeel Tavvic ====
___________________Phearez, turn 1.____________________
Still poking at his 1st drink, but only if it was free, Phearez
remains silent and observant. Slouching on chair in a nonchallant manner,
he will watch what is about to unfold with the utmost scruitny. His
calculating eyes taking in every word and mannerism of his would be
assiciates.
It seems that there is to be some sort of scuffle, and Phearez
will take absolutely no part in it, maintaing his comfortable pose... and
watching. There is actually little which would make him move or even
flinch from his chair, but if anyone swings, falls, or throws something
towards him, he will be as quick as possible to get out of the way.
Although he would prefer to remain seated and without a drop of his
beverage spilled, if forced to stand Phearez will move away from the fray,
still observant... especially of the angered youth whom has unnerved this
loud-mouth, scarred, hulk.
o o After that is resolved. o o
Anyone whom speaks will be observed with a similar, piercing scruitny.
Accents, names, mannerisms, etc Phearez will try his best to take mental
note of. If a conversation begins, from anyone he will remain silent, and
add absolutely nothing to the conversation... unless asked a DIRECT
question, two main ones bieng:
1> 'And you, what is your name?'
2> Would have something to do with a job regarding the caravan,
guarding it or whatnot.
Whomever asks the 1st question of Phearez will recieve a thoughtful look,
and a slight pause, before answering in a deep yet soft tone. "My name is
Erilyx t'Dargon" (That's like Air-ill-icks).
As far as the 2nd forseeable question, Phearez will ponder this for quite
a while, and if there is any chance of him thinking things over for the
night, he would perfer to do such. One thought is nagging at him, though,
and due to the fact that he wants to speak as little as possible, he will
wait to pose his question... hoping someone has already thought to ask.
But if none do, Phearez will, in his soft tone, inquire "and what became
of the previous guards?"
[Note: This is assuming that somebody is indeed looking for
a group to 'guard' the caravan that was currently a mile
to the south. . .]
Any other conversation that would stem up, about the realms in general,
about a group name, or just small talk, Phearez will merely watch, listen,
and learn... not contributing a word. Nor finishing his 1st ale.
THAD FORINTH
Thad gently rises after Christeel and says in a low gravely voice:
"Why, that would be a wonderful idea, for all of us to have a drink and
get to know one another... let me introduce myself..I am Thad Forinth..A
singer and actor who is trying to get back to my parents farm after losing
my job.."
"Kind sir, please join us for that
drink..In the meantime, I would be more than happy to entertain with a short
story i have written..please allow for some leeway, as me being so young
have much to learn"
"Let me tell you a story,
about two friends of mine.
Who built a powerful stable
with sweat blood and time.
The first is named Gregor,
a troll with attitude.
A gladiator once he stood,
no one to beat him could.
His home arena he left
as many a day before
but Never again to see
for abducted was he.
The second was Trimalcio,
a "collector" of fine goods.
She has a heart of gold
many times sold.
She "collected" from the wrong people
and found herself imprisoned.
laying next to her a troll
lashed heavily onto a poll.
Quickly friends they became
and alliance they formed
to get out of the cell
and raise a little hell.
They slashed and hollered
fought and hit
until the people left were two
aboard this pirate ship."
"Well, my throat is awfully tired to continue for now. Someday i will tell
the rest of the story.."
ONYX STRONGARM
I may be caught up in my own sadness, but I will not stand by and watch this
bully whip the young man from behind. I will stand up and draw my battle
axe. Upon drawing my axe I will see if I can just stare the man down, since
using a whip against an axe may not be a fight he really wants. If he so
much as twitches the whip towards the youth I will charge forward and try to
place myself between him and the youth so I can either foul his whip or take
the blow myself. If he does try to whip the youth or myself I will attack
him with my axe when I get close enough. If possibly I will attempt to
wound him instead of killing him. If he leaves me no choice I will go for a
killing blow.
If I am able to stare him down I will nod to the youth and return to
my seat.
Onyx
FOLDIS
On entering the Tavern Foldis will approach the bar. If the offer of
a free drink is extended to everyone she will accept, if not she will order
a Strong Ale.
After taking her drink she will head for an empty table in a quiet
corner of the bar, with a good view of the door, and take a seat.
Foldis will not approach any of the other bar patrons but if
approached herself will happily talk anybody as long as the questions are
not about her family.
On the entrance of the two "recruiters".
She will not react to the racial slurs uttered by the first entrant.
However on the freeing of the whip she will outwardly show no reaction but
will quietly rest her hand on her axe "just in case", other than that she
will not react unless directly threatened.
When/if things quieten down, assuming a fight occurs, she will
inquire where the caravan is going and what problems are likely to be
encountered.
The replies to these questions will determine her reaction to any
suggestions of forming a group and accepting the job of guarding the
caravan.
In reply to CHRISTEEL'S comment about forming a group
After having ignored CHRISTEEL's first comment, Foldis will reply to
the comment about forming a group as follows.
"I really thing we should find out more about this job first, and
also a bit more about each other. I for one will not venture into the wilds
without knowing more about both my employer and my companions."
She will then empty her drink and go to the bar to buy another - if
anybody was sitting with her at the table she will offer to buy them a drink
but not the rest of the tavern, and definitely not the prospective employer.
ONYX STRONGARM
When we get a conversation going with the youth as I assume we will, I will
listen quietly to whatever is said. If the youth mentions they need a
blacksmith (since I have not heard that from the bartender) I will offer my
services. I am also more than willing to be a guard if they need them, as
it would be a good place to begin my redemption. However, I would like to
know more about the job and my companions than I do now, so I will not
volunteer for that job right away. I will listen to what he has to say, and
to what my companions say before I make my final decision. Even if we do
not become guards I offer my services as a blacksmith to fix the wheel
Onyx
JEATHROHTL
Okay the group note was what I do obviously. More subtlely this is a chance
I can't refuse. Making every effort to make sure no one sees me, I will
tweak scarface preferably in the behind quarters, then throw a taunt spell,
something to the effect of the scar through your face makes you look so much
better than you use to and using my ventriloquism ability to make it seem as
though the youth said it. If I notice anyone at all watching me I will NOT
do any of this. If I fail to provoke a fight I will be so disappointed.
CYRIL
As soon as I got my first Ale I guzzled it and slowed down a bit on the
Tabek's Red. Feeling the long travel take its tole I do not say anything to
anybody becuase of fear it might come out wrong. Instead I stare intently at
the scarred man expressing no apparant emotion. If asked anything by anyone
outside of our group I will answer with another question and take another
sip of my drink.
On the chance of a fight.
As this all devolopes and the chance of a fight increases I will ready my
dagger under the table while showing no movement in my upper body and go
over the spell of Magic Missle in my head.
On the descion of the Job
If it comes to a vote I will vote against taking this job, I would rather
wait until we got to Waterdeep. I'm totally against anything that delays our
trip there.
---------------------------------------------
Turn #2
STORYTELLER
I sit still hoping this trouble passes by. As I said before, I am
a storyteller, not a fighter. And luckily there are others who come
to the emerald eyed youth's rescue.
Though some sit back, I can see they prepare slyly for danger,
while a couple try to entice the scarred one to more friendly
pursuits, such as the guzzling of a few ales and proper discussion.
And the lad, Forinth tries to interest the man in a song. I must
speak to him about timing, a very important part of a bard's job.
Luckily, it is the sharp voice of the bartender, Kyle, who yells,
"Darrin, watch out!" that gets the youth to step quickly to the side
even as the whip is started forward.
Then things progress quickly, for the dwarf Onyx Strongarm charges
in between Darrin and Scarface, but the tip of the whip makes no
forward motion, and quickly my eyes spot the moving lips and slight
grabbing motion of Christeel's hand, as though he is holding the whip
himself on the other side of our table.
With a bellow of rage the scarred one, as he is being compared to
a famous ugly(and I mean ugly) dancing girl, jumps a couple of feet
in the air, while grabbing at his backside. He then turns and runs
out the door, calling out threats as he goes, to the effect of Darrin
will get his when it is more of a fair fight. (I of course, at some
time will get around to telling everyone the story of The Curse of
Belladonna, the dancing Queen, and how she was made the ugliest creature
alive.)
And laughing in his wake is Darrin, with his hand on his undrawn
sword, taking none of this too seriously.
He, Darrin, orders another round for all, explaining to Foldis and
Onyx, that they can have as much as they want. It is as close to
Dwarven Spirits as they are likely to find along the Sword Coast,
though it is a well known fact that Tabek even studied with a Dwarven
Master Brewer in the early days of his brewing career.
As the bartender begins to set mugs and glasses in front of each
of us, even I your humble teller of tales, Darrin states that he is
impressed with them all and could use their assistance. He says
Waterdeep is but six days away and he is need of more guards for
his wagons.
The terms of agreement:
30 golden lions for each upon arrival at Waterdeep.
free entry to Waterdeep(at festival time this can cost
up to two silver falcons at the gate)
Darrin will also be glad to help everyone pick out an inn
and if it is one which he frequents, he promises to help
get a good rate.
If they are for some reason attacked before Waterdeep,
the group can split all the loot, for he is only
concerned with his cargo.
Then the door swings open again, and a woman of brilliant yellow
hair enters, lifting the hem of her black gown over the threshold.
Her musical voice calls out Darrin's name, breaking his reverie.
He stands, a startled look on his features, and with a call to the
bartender to set each of you up with dinner, he takes her arm and
like a proper gentleman leads her up the stairs. He pauses only to
glance back and say, I will be right back, please consider my offer."
After a short time Kyle brings you steaming platters of food
and more drink and says knowingly, "What a lad that Darrin is, eh?"
Bartender Kyle, son of Tabek
As Darrin seemingly ignores your questions as he escorts the blond
woman upstairs, the bartender calls out to the company..."Hear now, hear
now. I can be of assistance. I've known Darrin since he was a little
tyke traveling this very trade route with his father Anders Miyar. Who?
That's Zorl Miyar's brother that is." Quite a few blank faces look at
the bearded barkeep, and throwing his hands in the air, he continues, his
voice tinged with exasperation, "Who is Zorl Miyar? How can you not
know? True the trading has been hard these past two years what with
the bloodshed at Dragonspear Castle, but this is dire indeed. He heads
the merchant's guild out of Baldur's Gate. How true the rumors then?
It has been said that with the recent competition, the League has serious
monetary problems. This makes the first trade caravan of the season
so important then.
"As for the lad, when his father, gods receive him well, passed on
nearly five years ago, Darrin approached his uncle and convinced him
that he could move the cargo safely along this trade route. And he
does. There is likely not to be any trouble, 'tween here and Waterdeep.
"Now the fair-haired lady, I know naught of her, though doesn't mean
that I shant fore the evenin' is gone. But I would clearly say that
she isn't the type to take hold of that lad's heart.
"Cargo. Well, the League is said to deliver whatever the customer
has a desire for, as long as it isn't illegal, though there isn't much
will fall under that category anyway. From here they always take some
of the ale to Waterdeep to sell at festival, and then on the way back
they take more home for some of the inns and taverns in Baldur's Gate.
Spices, knickknacks, rare beasties at times. And like I said, if a
customer has a special order, The Merchant League will find and deliver
it, for a price...
He stops speaking all of a sudden and cups his ear with his hand.
"Ach, that'll be Darrin now, though not with the pretty lass, I warrant."
With that he steps back to the bar, though you neither see nor hear
Darrin approaching down the stairs, until a few seconds later. But than
this barkeep, Kyle, must know every creak and it's portent.
Darrin returns to the table after snatching up a tankard of
ale. "Well, I can see you all enjoyed the food," he says as he
takes note of the empty platters lying around the table. "To answer your
questions, my new friends, the cargo is none to precious, though the
most precious in my mind is the Tabek's Red, and yet
I need the extra guards because we have to split the caravan by a
day's ride. The bulk of the wagons will go on ahead of us, while
we escort one wagon and a carriage."
Then Darrin chuckles to hear mention of this lass of his, "No,
She is my cousin and although we are very close, she is nothing
more than my uncle's daughter Zeptha. It is for her we even brought
a carriage. I will supply horses... though if you prefer, I need
two drivers as well."
As Phearez asks softly about the previous guards, Darrin grinning
replies, "Well you saw the assistant foreman just get fired, and I won't
say that I haven't lost a few before this on the trip. I always figure
to lose a few, who find other pursuits along the road. I don't stop
anyone from following a different path. But since what you really
want to know is did any die? Yes...two died just outside of Dragonspear
Castle in an orc raid. But mainly, I just need additional hands because
my caravan is split up all of a sudden.
"And food will be provided, though you all are welcome to shoot
any wild game you can to spice up the meals. I would appreciate a
good change after almost a month on the road..." Darrin trails off
as the door open again and all sense a chilling prescense.
Another elf stands in the doorway, his obsidian black skin and
hair, and eyes of diamond white, piercing the establishment's calm
atmosphere.
All eyes follow as the Drow strides quickly towards Darrin.
FOLDIS
1st - sorry for missing turn 2.
In reply to the request for info about herself Foldis
will remain seated and will give the minimum information
possible.
"MY NAME IS FOLDIS AND FROM MY DRESS AND WEAPONRY YOU
SHOULD ALL BE ABLE TO GUESS THAT I WAS TRAINED TO BE A
WARRIOR. MORE THAN THAT I AM NOT PREPARED TO SAY AT THE
PRESENT TIME."
She will eat her share of the food, and more than her
share if any is left.
After hearing Darrin & the Bartender's stories she will
agree to join up as a guard.
"AS I'M ON MY WAY TO WATERDEEP ANYWAY I MIGHT AS WELL
GET FED AND PAID, I'LL PROBABLY HAVE TO TRY TO DRIVE A WAGON
THOUGH AS I WILL HAVE PROBLEMS WITH A HORSE".
When the Drow enters she will take no action, except to
keep a close watch on him.
JEATH
As the Drow enters, Jeath rises from the table, muttering something about
not buying ale, only renting it. As he heads for the front door his step is
a bit unsteady, and he stumbles into the Drow briefly. He instantly
apologizes for his clumsiness, mutters something about not being able to
hold his ale, then unsteadily continues his trek, pausing long enough to ask
the bartender where the best place might be for completing his quest.
A few minutes later Jeath stumbles back in, takes his seat and observes the
rest of the proceedings.
__________________Phearez. 3:2____________________________
As he does with everyone else, Phearez studies Kyle as he speaks,
coming to the realization that this local is not at all yokel. More
amused by Kyle's almost childish actions than anything that night, Phea...
Erilyx feels slightly relaxed, if at all possible. (Must be the two
ales.... he never drinks two ales.)
Still in his same relaxed position while Kyle speaks, Phearez will
straighten his posture when Darrin returns, and regain his indifferent
air. Phearez will remain silent throughout Darrin's run-down of how the
other 'two' guards died in an 'orc' raid for his semi-precious goods. But
once the possiblity of drivers comes up, only the most perceptive would
notice Phearez's dark eyebrow raise.
When Darrin is done with his spiel, Phearez will be _almost_ quick
to say, "I'd prefer to drive, if at all possible." You notice that his
tone has an entirely different level of firmness to it.... compared to the
quiet and almost self-consious quality it held before. (That is, if
you're paying attention to Phearez, or the Drow in the doorway.)
With regards to the drow:
I can't think of What Phearez would do, so I'm sure of what he
would do .... nothing. He'd freeze. If anything his white knuckled grip
on his backpack would tighten, with full intent of using it as a
projectile to stall anyone or thing on his way out the back door. Making
an assumption though, Phearez would sit as far from the door as possible,
and would do his best to keep an eye on the portal. For what? Only he
knows. If this is indeed the case, Phearez would be a little more at
ease, cause so many people are in the way (which insn't saying much, He
heard that a drow could point at you and say 'die' and you would). But
for this encounter, Phearez will be an observer, and hope that he can
regain his nonchallant attitude, while all all eyes are still on the drow.
CYRIL
I ask Darrin in a squeaky voice "Why did the caravan split, wouldn't it be
easier to defend the liquire if it was one group." After saying that I find
every thing in the room that is apparant incredibly funny or strange. If
someone asked me a question then I point and laugh as if it was a big joke.
As this has happened I feel the danger stop and slip my dagger back in to
the inside of my robes.
CHRISTEEL TAVVIC
Christeel with sit up and take note of the drow as soon as he walkes in
the tavern. He will follow the Drows ever movement. As he approches
Darrin, Christeel will say while looking at the drow
"Is it true what I have been told about Drow"
Christeel is saying the word Drow to see what kind of reaction
he will get out of the Drow and the Aleart Darrin of his presents.
Turn 4
"Drow?" Darrin says and looks over his shoulder. He looks back to
Christeel, with a twinkle in his emerald eyes and says, "Yes. Probably
true. But this is Tag. He just likes to make an entrance." As Darrin
seems familiar with the dark one, Jeath moves back to his seat quietly
and continues to listen and watch.
The dark elf, looks to Darrin and taking a deep breath, begins
completely ignoring the rest of you, "The smith reports that the wheel
will be repaired by noon tomorrow, Darrin." You all see the stone face
crack a little with frustation, as he continues, "I can only possibly
make five more miles before it is too dark to continue...perhaps I and
the others should just wait up for you, and we will all continue tomorrow."
Darrin steps up to Tag, putting his arm around his shoulder
familiarly and says, " Tag, Tag...we have to make sure the main
cargo gets to Waterdeep on schedule, and this couple hour delay has
already set us back. No need to wait for me. Heck, we will probably
catch up to you." As he says this the emerald eyed, blond
haired youth, turns the black obsidian skinned drow towards the door,
and continues, "I'll be fine. This is plenty of additional guards for just
one wagon with some kegs of ale and Zeptha's carriage. Now let's go
finish loading and I'll see you over the bridge."
Tag tries one more time, saying, "Then send the others, Darrin,
and I will remain at your side."
"No," Darrin replies forcefully as they reach the door to the inn.
Darrin turns and says to all, "Listen everyone. The common room is on
me tonight. I'm afraid if you wanted a private room, my cousin Zeptha is
already using it. I will meet all of you out front around noon." You
all watch as his hand reaches into a worn leather pouch and you see
the flicker of gold in his hand. He tosses the coin in the air towards
the storyteller, whose hand flickers quickly in the air and the coin
disappears faster than it appeared in the folds of the storyteller's
robe. "A little entertainment for my friends, eh old one." And with
that the unlikely pair head out the door.
Storyteller on Dwarven Plight
You wish a sad story tonight, eh. One that will make the women
weep and seek the comfort of strong arms in the night. Such a story
I have to tell:
The Dwarves in long ago history were once a mighty race of
hill and mountain, and their weapons and artifacts were wondrous to
behold. But now not much is known of their homelands and kingdoms,
yet I will tell you what I can.
Before the dragons controlled the lands of Cormyr and the Sunrise
Mountains began to spout flames and steam, the Dwarves were a mighty
and numerous race. And then the wars began to take their toll, wars
with orc and goblin and the settling of the Dragons in Cormyr, and now
the Dwarven nation is dwindling in stature and size. No more are their
wondrous cities amongst the caverns freely visited. Nay, for the most
part their communities are kept hidden and secret, small kingdoms hidden
from the larger world. Little is known of the Dwarves of the Far Hills
except that they travel to the East to trade their few precious wares.
And forgotten also are the enemy occupied holds of Hammer Hall, and the
Iron House, those dwarves who had been driven out of the Mines of
Tethyamar.
However, even as these tales come from the North, there is talk
of a great Dwarvish kingdom to the South, beyond the Vilhon Reach.
There, a mighty chasm greater than Cormyr in size is supposedly rent in
the ground and poised on the rim of that canyon are the towers of the
city of Eastheart, while within the walls of the chasm is a huge Dwarven
nation called Underholme. There is tell that these southern dwarves
are not as dour and taciturn as their northern fellows. In fact they
are said to be prouder, more haughty, and more energetic.
These great losses of land and life have made the dwarves leave
the sanctity of their hallowed mountains and seek a life of trade and
adventure in the open world, there to attempt to make a mark on history
that will not fade as their race is so doing.
Red responses to turn 4
PHEAREZ
Sitting in his usual, quiet mode, Phearez will snap to attention when he
realizes that someone is actually talking to him. His eyes have lost
their gleam, and are glossed with tiredness, after the bards tale.
Blinking quickly, the youth regains his scruitinizing edge, but is
confused. . . appearently not having heard a word Onyx said.
"Pardon?"
-He asks.
ONYX
I just asked Phearez if I could be the second driver. Foldis asked to be
one and so did Phearez. I figure as a Dwarf I am not built to ride a horse,
especially since I will not be able to reach the stirrups. I figure I will
just slow everyone down if I have to ride. So far he has not made a
decision yet.
> CHRISTEEL TAVVIC
>
> Christeel speaking to the old man
> "Tell me how do you come to know so much about Dwarves, your story
> tells of how they keep to themselves and you know much about them?"
> Christeel will contiune his conversation with the old man if he is willing
> to continue talking with him.
The storyteller is glad to inform you that any decent bard should know the tale
of the plight of the dwarves. He seems somewhat miffed that you question how
he came by the tale.
>
> After Christeel conversation with the storyteller, he will kick back and
> enjoy the tavern's atmosphere and any perty little maidens if they happen
> by. A little later he will retire to his room for a bit of sleep.
> Upon awakining Cristeel will get ready for guard duty and head to the
> common room to get some breakfast (a little bit after sunrise).
> He will say good morning to all that are already there and will
> with a big grin say good morning to and party members that arrive
> to the common room after he does.
As for perty maids...sorry, the only server on duty is Kyle the bartender. The
only other are women in the inn are their to have dinner perhaps with their
husbands.
Moose
he will take out if flute, and provided that no one has any major objection
will proceed to play a tune. He will ask the storyteller if he would care
to join in or perhaps they could trade music or songs to pass the time.
"I am no Bard mind you but I do enjoy a good song or tune"
The storyteller is glad to teach you a little ditty, until it's his
bedtime.
PHEAREZ
Phearez answers quickly to the question, the second time it is asked, a
tired simle on his pale face "Oh - I guess you are right... Sure, no
problem." This is spoken with a tone of voice that seems extremely weak,
even the yourh's eyes don't seem to have a flare in them anymore. But
what's more odd than that, you think you notice that as Phearez nods
curtly to the table, and excuses himself to the common room - That his
face . . . had an odd hue to it, almost a light blue.
If anyone cares enough to follow Phearez with their eyes, they would
notice his feet dragging along the floor as he solemnly walks to the
common room to retire.
ONYX
After Phearez leaves the table:
There is something odd about him. He didn't look right just now. He has
been alert and watchful the whole evening until the Drow came in. I don't
suppose any of us is a healer? It might not hurt to take a look at him to
make sure he is okay. Unfortunately, I have no skills in the healing arts
or I would check on him myself. He does seem to me like the kind of person
who would need convincing to let someone take a look at him, so I will go
along to help with that if any of you have the skills to look him over.
CYRIL
> I stagger out of the of the bar bumbing in to people and whistling
>the tune the bard had sung earlier only baddly out of tune. If any one
>watches me you will notice that I didn't make it to the door. Instead I
>passed out on the floor just before the door. The only rational thought in
>my head is to vow to stop drinking. A drunken mage is a bad mage I always
>say, or starting to say, or something to that extent.
ONYX
Humans just don't seem to be able to handle drink very well. Does anyone
want to help me put Cyril to bed?
If there are no takers I will do it myself. I put him on the opposite side
of the common room from where I intend to sleep and I find a bucket to put
next to him in case he needs it.
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