01/05/745 A.E. Continued . . .
Maarik looked around at the resting group, his hands covered in blood from his recent work, the skinning of the Giant Weasel. He knew there was more than one way to do that, but one was enough. He also knew the fur was extraordinary. Extremely soft, long, and it had the ability to repel the formation of ice crystals on it from one's breath during colder times. Such a fur would bring a handsome price, but only if it were cured properly, and he couldn't do that in the field with the things he had with him. "We should head back and get the proper solution for curing this pelt. It will be worth a fortune if we don't let it go bad."
Jarmain seemed concerned about the two little weasels. They'd die without their mother, and he'd rather not let that happen if he could help it. "What will we do with the two babies?"
Maarik hadn't given that matter much thought. There was little reason to since he already knew what he planned to do with the little weasels. "They will make excellent guards when properly trained. We can sell them in a month or so, so we'll take 'em with us. Another reason to head back now."
Jarmain didn't care if they were sold or anything; he just didn't want to let them die by starvation. "Then it is agreed. We will leave for home now and come back later when we are better prepared."
After getting back out of the complex, and passing the wind, so to speak, the adventurers and the two kobolds stood at the bottom of the gravel pits. The party decided to leave the kobolds in the pit. If they could get out on their own, fine, and if not, that was fine too. Maarik again took the lead, telling all that there would have to be a better path home than just backtracking their old trail. He thought about it. Sir Gerald would have taken the most direct route home, and he crossed the White Water River at night and went to the north gate of Alodar. That had to be the best and shortest way, so he made up his mind to lead the party in that direction and find out where the best route actually was. A little trial and error shouldn't hurt too much since they were all reasonably well. "Follow me," he said, "and we'll be home in just over a day." Maarik looked up at the sun, Gimarian, which cast a very short shadow under him at the moment. "It's about noon now, so we'll have to make camp before we get there," he said to anyone who was listening. He just fixed the thought in his mind that he was also looking for a good place to camp for the night while they traveled homeward.
It wasn't long before they came across the southward flowing White Water River, so they simply followed it until they might find a suitable place to ford her. Before that happened, however, night was upon them, and Maarik called a halt to the group's progress when he spotted a small clearing that would hold them safely until the morn. "We'll camp here for the night. We'll get a good start in the morning and be in Alodar by noon tomorrow." He started picking up a bit of wood and soon some of the others were doing the same. There would be a campfire tonight, and hot food. The night passed without incident.
01/06/745 A.E.
A very easy place to cross the river was found just an hour outside of Alodar, but up ahead, almost out of sight, they saw a better alternative. They continued walking and came to a small wooded bridge, not more than 30 years old, by the look of it, so it couldn't have been there when Sir Gerald made his last trip. Too bad for him, but good news for our adventurers. They could use it on the way back, too. From there, it was just a short hike up to Alodar's north gate, and they entered the city just before noon. But before coming to the city gates, Maarik went to a nearby furrier, just outside of town, sufficiently removed from the throng of life since the smell of that business was pretty ripe, and there he made the best deal he could. He then went into the city where he sold the baby weasels to an animal trainer he had heard about. They'd be worth more in a few months, after fully trained, but he figured no one wanted to take the time off and raise them, so he happily accepted the gold offered. Returning to the Ferryman's Inn, the group ate and then split up the gold. The remarkable fur had sold for 2,000 GP! Astonished at this, he asked why and learned it was a highly sought component to certain magic items and cloaks - a fur of the highest quality, and it was even almost magical in and of itself, its natural ability to shed ice and stave off frost a characteristic of that species. He wondered if the little ones were destined to be used thus upon reaching maturity, but he didn't think so. They would possibly be, after all, better than a highly trained guard dog, and a ferocious fighter if necessary. He could personally attest to that. And at the end of their lives and after years of useful service, their fur might still be harvested. He almost wished he could have kept the pair, but the upkeep and time would have been too much for him right then.
Later, since it was determined several of the party members required further training, they agreed to split up for the next two weeks or so and meet back at the Inn on the 4th of the next scepter for any who wished to proceed back to the complex. All agreed, and it was also understood no private excursions would be done by individuals, and no one would speak of the hidden complex to anyone outside the group for now. Then they adjourned.
In the intervening weeks, Tuall got caught up in things I will not mention here. Exit Tuall.
Jarmain had serious misgivings about continuing to adventure with Drael since she seemed to have no problem with certain actions that he considered unethical and immoral. If he felt a stronger block of support in the group, he'd probably have stayed and forced her into line, or failing that, forced her out of the group. But since this support was lacking, he thought wisdom called for his absence before the situation blew up. True, there might be a lot of gold still waiting out there, some of it was probably even his by right, but he had the magic sword. He decided to take it and leave the group. If they came back for it, he'd likely relinquish it, but only if they paid him a reasonable amount of money. Otherwise, he thought all things were pretty much fair. Exit Jarmain.
Maarik, too, had thought better of his choice of companions. He didn't relish the thought of digging around in a dungeon of stone. He was more the outdoors type. The Underdark actually bothered him. And he had several other reasons as well, but I won't go into them here. Exit Maarik.
Finally, though Anne had no particular problem with the group, she had no love for the quest of money for the sake of money. True, it would be handy to have, but she figured she could always go back whenever it suited her. For now, she resigned herself to learning all she could from a new book her mentor, Serious, had just given her. Besides, learning a greater compliment of spells would give her more tools to choose from and make her more diversified and flexible in the field. Since she could only have two spells ready at a time for now, she decided it would be best to have more than one or two options. This would take time, but Anne felt it would be well worth it, and when Serious agreed she was doing the intelligent thing, this is what she did. Exit Anne.
Certain other aspects of the game will also not be shown here, as they were really non-group related.
02/04/745 A.E.
The second scepter of the year had begun in typical fashion and the days were growing steadily warmer as the Fire Season approached, but that season was still some scepters away. Training over, visits with family and friends taken care of, and the scepterend parties (typical at the end of every 20 days) being well over, business as usual reigned, then, in all things, and the Ferryman Inn was holding a bardic contest when our intrepid adventurers straggled in during the course of the agreed upon day.
The contest had been going all day and now only two finalists remained. Garren Rayne, a human male bard and priest of Poseidon, teller of epic sea tales and master at poetics was one contestant. The other contestant was a beautiful Elven female, Fenarellnen, though she seemed somehow different from most elves seen around these parts. She sang her Elven songs and played her lute and the audience loved it. While the contest continued, Liska, Drael, and Gillmesh soon came to the conclusion the others either were not coming, or could not come. They began to wonder what to do since they all felt three party members were simply too few to make a go of it.
A loud noise rang out; a silver platter hit the floor as a clumsy customer accidentally knocked it out of the barmaid's hands. The chime of the silver, though not too disruptive for most, put Fenarellnen slightly off key. Damn it! she knew she had made a mistake, but she quickly recovered and finished her song. She smiled at the crowd, even though she was angry that her song had been disrupted, and she left the stage area and found her way to the bar where she ordered some rather expensive Elven wine to sooth her frustration. Garren was now up, and preformed flawlessly (and without interruptions, lucky him). They were both very good, but in the end Garren took the small prize and the crowd clapped and cheered him. Fenarellnen just drank more.
Fenarellnen soon decided a nearby dartboard, a perfect target for her slim daggers, would take her mind off the recent loss. Interested in what he saw, Gill watched her, and soon finished his Ale and went over to her. Offering her a game, she accepted, and after a few games they reached an understanding. Fenarellnen would join the group.
Unaware Gill was on a recruiting mission, Drael and Liska discussed their problem and decided to invite the winner of the bardic contest over, having recognized talent quite beyond the mundane. Garren saw them wave to him, and since they seemed 'above the norm,' as people go, he decided to see what they wanted. A welcome surprise, a man had paid for 1 GP worth of ale ($100) for the winner before he left, and soon pitcher after pitcher found their way to Garren's table (probably 12 pitchers in all, or until he called a halt to them, the barkeep taking what remained of the 100 SP as a tip). Naturally, Garren shared his prize with Liska and Drael while they talked since he had no wish to drink himself stupid this evening. The pitchers kept coming as they talked. Soon, Garren was also invited to join the group.
Garren rents four rooms for the night and passed the keys around to Liska, Drael, and Gill. Fen had other ideas and found herself outside resting comfortably in one of the few but larger trees in the area. This was not normal behavior for the regular variety of elves, but Fen was not one of those. Well hidden, she goes to sleep perfectly balanced on an upper bough, slumbering, waiting for the dawn. The others take up residence in their rented rooms, and the night passes.
02/05/745 A.E.
The noise of the crowd and the smells of breakfast again awaken our friends of mythic proportions and abilities. They attack breakfast and soon vanquish it. It didn't stand a chance.
Sally, the morning barmaid, is surprised and delighted to have such customers. They are easy to please, and pleased customers tip well. Sally was a rather striking blond, both tall and thin, and with a natural smile that always seems present. Sally worked tirelessly and effortlessly and seemed very efficient. She made more in tips than any other barmaid here, a fact she was both proud of and yet tried to keep a secret. No sense making the other girls jealous. Soon she would have enough for that dress she wanted. Sally puts the thoughts of the dress out her mind and concentrated on various conversations. Information was also valuable, and she had sold some in the past that had kept her in a few of the nicer things. She poured coffee for our friends. "Good morning. I hope you all had a wonderful night," she smiled and winked at Gill, a friendly gesture, since Gill was what she called a "real" man. Just the sort she'd want to model her new dress for during a night on the town, when she got it.
Liska looked at the gesture and wondered if Gill even saw it. Sometimes men were so blind. Her thoughts were soon on business instead. "We have all our supplies and are ready to go. How about you Garren?" Garren looked up from his food and nodded. He always traveled light and was ready to go. It just made sense to be prepared. Fen entered the Inn, spotted Gill, and walked over to him. "When will we leave? I'm all set." Within moments it was proven that all were ready to go, or nearly so.
Drael spoke up, saying, "I have a horse now at the north gate stables. Not much, but better than nothing. We can use her to carry a few of the heavier things." Drael knew a horse didn't add much to a group's speed (unless all had them and they were making the horses trot or gallop, but that was for shorter distances and not day-long or longer journeys). "At least we needn't be tired out by lugging all our equipment on our backs anymore." Liska smiled at that since she, among all others, tended to buy more equipment for the group than anyone else. She didn't mind the expense so much, but carrying it did bother her. "Wonderful, Drael, that will help considerably."
Fen bought some wine for the road, a couple bottles and some for her wineskin, and walked out to where Drael said she was keeping her horse; a beast named Dapple, or so she was told. She passed a large glass window on the way to the stables, then paused, looking at herself in the mirror-like reflection. Fenarellnen, a young, Elven female looked back at her. She came from a tribe of Moon Elves deep in the northern forests, far across the Scale Mountains. Waves of reddish brown tresses fell loosely down her back, tied at the tip in a tail, and her soft, pale skin, with almost a hint of gray, reflected well in the glass. She could tell her eyes were a soft blue-green, with the telltale almond shape of the elves defining her sharp, tapered brow. All of that she could see in the pane, but her thoughts were focused monetarily upon just how impressive this city was. Large glass windows, just one of the many things she was not used to, and the many fountains, one of which was reflected in the background. She stood just over 5 feet tall and was very slim, with a small, delicate, agile frame and seemingly nimble appendages. She wore loose fitting leather pants and a gray cotton blouse. It brought out the color of her eyes. Long, high leather boots protected her feet and legs, and leather bracers covered each wrist and forearm. Fen carried a pack and several pouches, along with a staff in her hand, a sword at her side, and a longbow slung over her shoulder. On the whole, she looked a bit dangerous, and doable, as her one-time boyfriend had told her. She was not displeased with her appearance.
Fen listened to the music of the running water from the fountain and wished she could capture this image and sound in more than just her memory, but she had things to do. She continued to the stables and waited for the others to join her.
Garren left and made a quick detour to his temple down by the docks. He offered prayers and a sacrifice for success in any upcoming struggles, and then hurried back. He was only monetarily delayed when a very young man asked him for permission to ride 'The Horses of Poseidon.' A sacred duty, Garren paused to grant the request all people of the Olympian Religions must obtained at least once in their lives if they wished to ride horses without incurring the wrath of Poseidon, or so it is said. "Ride well, my son, and true, and may the blessings of Poseidon be upon you." Overjoyed, the boy offered a smile rather than verbal thanks, and mounted his horse for the first time and rode away, though somewhat badly, like a beginner. Garren looked after him for a moment, slightly amused at the sight, but then quickly hurried about his own business.
The day grows late and the party gets a slow start, but they are soon on the road, out of the city, and across the recently discovered bridge. They travel only a few more hours before the great shadow begins to make its presence felt, and they bed down for the night. Most of them gather around the small campfire, but Fen seems to prefer the nearby trees. The night passes, and despite the fire and Garren's violin, nothing disturbs them this close to the city.
02/06/745 A.E.
Morning arrives and all dispense with their usual morning routines quickly, seemingly anxious to get under way, looking forward to what lies ahead. They do not have long to wait. The hours pass and before they know it, they are back at the gravel pits. No kobolds or kobold bodies can be seen. Quickly, they descend and once again brave the whirlwind of debris as they open the doors and struggle into the complex within the tiny but violent sandstorm. They closed the door again, and again the dust settles, in time, the air becoming steadily clearer until it's hard to tell there ever was quite a bit of dust or debris in the air, save for the grit-laden floor beneath them.
The noonday sun is now overhead, but they cannot see it. Only Liska's lamplight illuminates the dusty hallway. They rest for a time, their battle with the unnatural wind that guards the concealed doors to this complex now over, taking stock of their equipment and readiness for what might lie ahead. The darkness beyond the light seems to devour the feeble illumination, almost in an unnatural way. The gloomy setting is not very restful, but there they rest for at least half an hour.
SESSION ENDS.
© September of 1999
by
James L.R. Beach
Waterville, MN 56096