Turn 67 -- The Garlstone Mines

As Milbourne disappears behind the horizon, Kersath calls a halt at the base of a small hill, perhaps an hour or so before reaching the hills in earnest. He turns in the saddle to address Talimar and the group.

"Perhaps we should come up with another marching order with the loss of Beleg now?" He dismounts and stretches his back before picking up a stick to draw in the dirt.

"I'll naturally be up front, perhaps a hundred feet or so, to scout around. I suggest we put the spellcasters in the middle, surrounded by the warriors. Something like this:"

		Kersath
	Tal		Randor
	Druckner  Dain	Garth
	Ras		Kre
	Gnore		Ortho

Talimar listens intently to the suggestions of the drow and nods his head, "That sounds like a good idea to me. Unless anyone has an objection, let's do it that way."

Gnore listens with interest to Kersath's plan and nods his head with understanding before clearing his throat, "I don't know if I'd have a weak front with that order unless I knew no threat would attack from there."

"Rather, I'd put myself on the front of the main group since my role in the company is limited to the bastard sword I carry. Perhaps either Tal or Brother Randor could take the rear, which one it is is up to them. Besides, if trouble should bear from o ur rear or flanks, we could spurn our mounts to the gallop in a direction we already tred. 'Tis faster than turning our mounts to a new way and then take to gallop." Gnore finishes with eyes glaring from the talk of pre-supposed battle. Then realizing his little speech, he shifts nervously in his saddle and quickly adds, "But if I am to better serve in the rear, so be it. 'Tis just a humble dwarf's suggestion."

Talimar stiffens at Gnore's comments, "Very well Gnore, why don't you join me up at the front? Randor?"

Brother Randor simply shrugs it off and moves to guard the party's rear.

"Aye, friend Kersath, do lead on! Ah'm right behind ye and am most anxious to get underground again." urges Ortho.

Kersath nods and mounts up once again, quickly heading at a trot ahead of the party, everyone else falling in line.

"Gnore, Druckner, how about a good traveling song? Something loud and bawdy to remove the boredom of travel and to ease friend Dain's discomfort?" offers Ortho as he looks at the still-aching mage.

With a nod, Druckner quickly launches into a very loud and rather raunchy drinking ballad. Ortho comes in just as strong right behind him while Gnore and Garth simply smile at the remembrance of the familiar song but content to ride in peace. Dain cringes from the noise and pulls the hood of his cloak high on his head hoping for some relief from the noise.

Astride his mighty pony, Garth looks refreshed by his stint in town. His new flail is well polished and has earned a place on his belt, next to his mace. While the others are nursing a hangover for the first part of the day or singing loudly, Garth just keeps quiet and enjoys the countryside.

"What in the Nine Hells?!" exclaims Kersath from ahead as he hears the loud dwarves. "Singing! Dwarves!"

Luckily for Dain, the dwarves can merely hold out for a few songs before their throats dry and they begin to quench their thirst from a wineskin brought by Druckner. Dain takes the moment of quiet to ride up to Kre, hoping to engage him in conversation on the finer points of knife throwing and trying to pick up any free gambling tips, all the while merrily smoking his pipe.

As the mage approaches, Kre is absently shaking his right hand with his newly acquired dice in it. The dice making a familiar rattling sound that settles the young thief.

"I like these dice," mumbles Kre, "they appear to bring a bit o' luck, along with a pouch of gold!" He then reaches down and places the dice back into his pouch. Drawing a dagger, he then begins to carefully carve on a piece of wood as he listens to Dain's desire for throwing tips.

"Ah ha, always ready to teach some dagger tossing." laughs Kre. "As to gambling...well, there aren't any tips, just knowing when to switch the dice and when to run. As to the throwing, it's all in the wrist, like so..." And with a quick flick of his wrist, the dagger he was using to carve goes flying through the air, burying in the trunk of a nearby tree with a loud "Thunk!"

"Nice" replies Dain.

Hearing the conversation, Ras takes an interest and rides up to speak to his two friends, "Dain, you have come to the right man. Kre knows his stuff but I think he is hiding something about the gambling. He still has to work on that running part though, I recall he forgot to once!" Ras holds his head imitating a wobbly Kre with a headache. "Ha! Ha!" he laughs.

Kre sniffs, "It wasn't my fault the Zhentarim had spies everywhere. I would have gotten away too, if they hadn't had men outside. I can still run, why I remember the week before I met you guys, I was rather hurriedly run through a town. Some people just don't understand dice and odds."

He then turns to speak to Dain as he comes back from retrieving his dagger, "That's how gambling works, you bet on the odds, good gamblers are just able to stack the odds higher to their favor. It's all math and speed."

"That's right," laughs Dain, "math, speed, and a little extra weight opposite of a favorable face."

"Dain, I might be able to teach you a thing or two about throwing also," begins Ras, "between the two of us, Kre and I should be able to make you into a contender. Ever thought of taking up thieving?"

"Only the theft of knowledge, friend Ras," answers Dain. "It's a fascinating hobby. Most fascinating indeed. My mentor once spoke of a baker from Dal Sumari, a city far in the far east who deal in the trade of forbidden knowledge. His prices were so steep they would even make a kings purse light. He must have grown more wealthy than even I could imagine."

Both Kre and Ras raise their eyebrows as they hear the story of Dain's rich baker.

"I believe I understand now," says Dain as he takes one of his newly acquired daggers from his pack to examine it. "All in the wrist." He then throws the dagger into the trunk of a large tree just a few paces ahead, imitating the motion of Kre earlier.

"If only dice and women were as simple!"

Druckner snorts when he hears this remark from the mage, "You've got that right friend Dain. Which brings to mind a song about Widow Silkbeard. I'm sure Gnore and Ortho will know this one. Come to think of it, Garth probably knows it well too, hey Garth?" Not waiting on any response from his companions, Druckner continues on, "They know all kinds of bawdy songs in those monasteries, though they appear modest. It's all about a beautiful lady with a long blond beard. Her beard was so silky that she had suitors from leagues away, all hoping to wed to Gretha Silkbeard. An even dozen got their wish but they all came to an untimely end!"

The morning air is then broken with the regular rhythm of Druckner's deep bass voice from the front ranks as he starts to sing the song.

The group continues on as such as they travel north toward the mines, around noon Kersath calls a halt and the party stops for a quick meal and some rest. It is during this break that Ras brings up the question of the horses once they reach the mines and a possible headquarters for the company.

"Maybe we should consider buying a house here," offers Talimar. "We have plenty of money and it may be better....and quieter than staying in the Inn. In regards to storing our treasure, perhaps the dwarves could create a secret compartment?"

The elf shrugs, "Regarding our mounts up at the mines, I was under the impression that there was still mining going on up there. I am sure we could prevail on someone to stable our mounts while we check out the mines."

"Aye, Talimar, Ah can make ye a 'secret compartment', just get me a shovel!" exclaims Ortho. "Ye need to hide somethin'? Bury it! Ancient and revered dwarven way." The others dwarves join him in a hearty laugh.

"As to a house, I like the Inn. Any house or keep might just be some unwanted advertisin'. O' course, if we be plannin' on stain' around here fer a long time, well, it may make some sense. But the cost of upkeep would be quite large."

Garth adds his two cents worth as he takes a bite out of a chunk of dried meat, "I wouldn't leave an unguarded house that everyone knows is where we store our treasure. Gaurds'd be too expensive. Perhaps if we take a room somewhere or trust our money's to a counting house or something. I would certainly vote for hiring some camp hands to watch horses and such."

Ortho nods and turns back to Talimar, "The mines we be headin' to are not being worked at present. Haven't been fer some years. Floodin' I believe. Now there are some other mines nearby which are being worked but we have assumed that they were safe given the constant human activity there."

"Regardin' the horses, Ah'm fer hiring a couple of groomsmen or men-at-arms to accompany us. They can look after the horses when we go below ground. And when we are on the surface one of them could serve as a shieldbearer fer Dain. Now that's a dandy idea!" Ortho laughs heartily at this last remark and claps Dain hard on his back, knocking the mages pipe out of his mouth.

"Yes, yes, very clever idea," smirks Dain as he retrieves his pipe.

"Wal, it's too bad we didn't think of this sooner, guess we'll do that next trip." says Ortho.

"What are we so worried about the horses for?" asks Gnore. "Nothing on mine worth takin 'cept me old bastard sword and I've got a much better one now so no big loss there. I say just leave 'em at the entrance."

"I guess that's what we'll have to do then," responds Talimar as he stands. "Let's go ahead and move on, I'd like to reach the mines before darkfall."

The others nod and quickly mount up, the group heading back north again. After another hour or so they pass the entrance to the Carman mines, the ones still in use at the present. There's plenty of activity at the entrance as men come out pushing wheelbarrows or carts full of stones. They then place them on a shoot to wash them and carry them down to another big basin where they are collected before being put on a wagon to be carried off. The men wave at the company as they pass.

After passing the mine entrance, Ortho rides forward to speak with Ras about some of the other items collected from the keep and the gifts to Lyntern. "Ah'm a bit confused. Will we be givin' the bride a silver feather locket or a ring? Also, Ras Ah believe we found a gold earring. If ye don't mind Ah would like to wear it as a bit o' pers'nal ornamentation. What do ye say?"

Ras nods to the dwarf as he fishes the earring out of his pouch, "That is fine with me, as far as I am concerned it's yours, unless someone else objects?" Seeing no objection from the other members of the company, he tosses the earring to Ortho. "I would just ask that before you go selling it, we return it to the party treasury?"

"Will do," replies Ortho as he puts the earring into his left earlobe, the gold catching the light of the afternoon sun and glinting.

Druckner and Gnore both burst out laughing at the sight of their now earring'd friend. "That'll put the fright into our enemies!" exclaims Gnore.

"Hey Ortho, can I 'ave the next dance when we get back to Milbourne?" asks Druckner as he holds his side with laughter.

"I'll show you fear," Ortho responds to his friends as he shakes his hefty axe at them. "You orc-brained scullions don't know style when ye see it!"

Just before dusk, the group reaches the area of the entrance to the abandoned Garlstone mines. The entrance is set back a half-mile or so from the edge of the hills. Around the mine the vegetation is discolored from waste from the mine. Looking into the entrance, it is pitch black beyond. Those with heightened vision are unable to make out any shapes inside the shaft. Kersath moves forward to knock down the remaining boards covering the abandoned shaft.

As a few torches are lit the group leaves their mounts tethered outside and enters the cave, they can see that this entrance chamber has clearly been widened by miner's work; the stone is smooth and regular here. The cave widens and continues forward into darkness. The only sounds that can be heard are the occasional drip of water or a swift moving rat running from the light of the party.