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The wagon driver Broden Fink had accepted your money for passage to Fort Inevitable quite eagerly, ushering you all into the confines of his covered wagon before taking his seat at the front. As you all lay spread out amidst piles of what could only be accurately described as junk, watching the West Sellen River flow to the west of the road, and an endless malaise of trees to the east, Broden Fink spent the better part of an hour fussing over his horse, a large chestnut-brown Clydesdale with chipped hooves and a tangled mane.
The man looked over his shoulder, scratching at the beginnings of a beard, his eyes appearing slightly glazed over as he does so. "If'n you don't mind my saying, you bunch are probably the oddest crew I've taken to the fort in a while. Not that I don't appreciate the extra coin! But uh... what brings folks like you to these parts?"
Dotting here
Kaley looks up from her formula book and says quietly, "Just traveling around, I guess. Maybe looking for somewhere to settle down. I don't really know."
Dorin frowns disapprovingly, before his face slips in to sadness. 'Aye tis addiction alright. A sad thing for such a short lived life. Torag, t'aint your domain, I be knowing that, but keep an eye on the poor man hey?' He said a quick prayer to the Lord of the Forge, before turning to speak to the Wagon driver.
"I be heading for the front eventually, Mendev. The Crusades do be needing Smiths and tis my divine duty to aid them in any way I can. Torag wills me to the Worldwound and I will go. He be guiding me, for sure!" He grinned, stroking his beard in thought.
He turned to look at the Aasimar woman sitting across from him and smiled. "Aye, the River Kingdoms is the place to be, for a wayward soul like yourself. Settling down is what the place is all about, carving yourself out a little corner of the world and doing with it what you will. An admirable thing to search for!"
Addict. Common enough among the rabble. Could maybe help the man, but I haven't the ingredients. He probably doesn't even want to be helped.
"I'm thinking of joining the fight against demonkind myself. For the challenge, the experience, and the reagents."
"Aye? Another for the front? Blessed do be our meeting then friend. Our paths do be converging and leading towards the Worldwound. Surely there is luck in that!"
Kaley turns to Dorin. "Thank you. I'm actually from Thornkeep, although it turns out that particular corner of the world is not my sort of place."
"A wagon full of crusaders. Now I feel out of place. Although I suppose I do have the largest weapon."
"True. You are a smith alone, or do you come by any other professions?" Coglen asks of the dwarf.
Turning to the woman with the big sword, Coglen says, "That is true. I keep but a small blade. It has worked well for me so far."
Dorin laughed softly and nodded. "Aye, that do be true. That sword be a mighty fine looking weapon too. She has seen some use I would wager!"
"Smith and I suppose I do be a Priest at that. I am a holy warrior of Torag, devoted to the Lord of the Forge since I was but a wee-un. It do be my driving force!"
As my path shall converge with yours as well, mighty dwarf. - Qot says, coming out of his usual monk silence - I plan to meet the Hellknights of the Fort, and offer them the services of my bow if they feel I can be of any use. My name is Qot.
Any time he's not meditating/sleeping, Qot is merged with his Eidolon. The shadowy figure is almost transparent, and it's pretty obvious the man inside transpires something soothing and peaceful - contrasting with the figure surrounding him. A longbow stands on his back with arrows. Qot looks very, very Human. If he noticed Broden was under the influence of anything, he didn't say anything.
Muttering softly as he did so, Petros rifled through his backpack, making sure that everything was where he had placed it. Glancing up from his inspection as the driver spoke, Petros stayed notably quiet waiting for everyone else to speak before he replied to the question.
It seemed his traveling companions consisted of an avid reader, a verbose wanderer and an aspiring hero. And, some sort of distracted looking human.
"I'm just trying not to get killed in the west; thought it might be fun to try the same in the east" he spoke in a distracted tone despite the fact that he was now only looking through his pack to avoid meeting eyes with anyone else.
In response to Dorin: "Less than you might imagine. I've spent a few years as a guard for wagons like this, but other than that this blade has only been used in training and practice. I mainly keep it around to frighten off would-be bandits. I'm not a warrior, at least not until I find the right war."
Dorin nodded his head at the shadow garbed man and smiled. "It do be good to have you along also my friend. There is good work to be done!"
When Petros spoke, Dorin stared at him for a second before laughing loudly. "Aye, do that be so? Well... It is always good to avoid being killed, that is for sure. Fortune smile on us, we strange few, all bound for only the Gods know where!"
Dorin regarded the woman with a smile, laughter still twinkling in his eyes. "Aye, that be about my experience as well. I am a Smith and a Priest first and foremost, a Warrior second. Well... here is to you finding your War lass. I hope it be a good one and I hope you do be triumphant!"
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Broden nods as the conversation begins to lull amongst the travellers. "Sounds like most of you are planning on making for Mendev. You know Fort Inevitable was founded by somebody making their way to Mendev? It's true! Emos Varden. Had a penchant for nailing bandits to trees, which got them all very shy around these parts, at least for a while."
Shaking his head, Broden sighed. "'Course, when he was killed, his replacement buried her head so deep into the crannies of the town and executing her own citizens, the bandits have started cropping up again, to say nothing of... well, let's just say I don't make this journey at night for a good reason."
Broden looked ahead as the cart crested a low hill. Beyond a town with a curtain stone wall sat on the road, its outskirts filled with a few farmsteads. From the town center a few chimneys spewed smoke, and the occasional armored figure could be seen pacing atop the parapets.
"Ah! We're almost here! If'n you're looking for a place to stay, I'd recommend the Red Shield Tavern. It's the first building on the right past the marketplace on the road we'll be going on. Embra Morsk is the owner. She's keeps the place very clean, the beds're well made. If you need your arms or armor looked after, ask around for Rillin. Don't give any business to Tsador! The lime-skinned bugger is moldy-rotten the core."
"There do be no call for men to turn to banditry, I hold no truck with their ilk myself, but..." He stopped, frowning and staring out of the wagon for a moment. "Desperate men on desperate times? It do be hard to think that men such as them do deserve to be nailed to trees. Banditry isn't the answer mind, I just believe in due process!" Dorin nodded, before pulling a pipe from his belt and stocking it with tobacco, in anticipation of the Inn.
"I do be in need of a cold ale and some food. It is not often I travel and I do not enjoy it much, truth be told. I said to myself when I started this trip, 'Dorin you do no be a young Dwarf no more, you should be settling down. This be your last trip now, where you stop you do take root!', and I mean it. I will find somewhere I can set up and I will Smith and provide for those who do be doing the Gods work!" He nodded, chewing on the stem of the pipe in thought.
"There comes a time in every mans life when he do need to listen to himself, and to how he is being led. Nach amhlaidh?"
Thanks... - Qot thanks Broden, calmly, and then just smiles to the other people in the wagon. In silence, he starts thinking in a prayer to Erastil for his good luck and health so far.
Stifling a chuckle at the dwarf's comments and talkative nature, Petros chose to look up from his backpack and glanced at each of his fellow travelers, avoiding eye contact by swiftly switching targets every time they shifted. When the topic shifted to banditry and it's punishment, Petros snorted before saying
"Ah yes! The age-old practice of robbing everyone you can and trying not to get caught. A favorite past-time of Nobles and Bandits alike!".
When Dorin mentioned drink and food, Petros actually reached for his mask and slipped it off, revealing his face. He looked a fair bit flush, the mask having been uncomfortably hot. "If you're going to be eating something, I'd like to come with you; I haven't had a solid meal in a while and if I'm going to get robbed, I'd prefer to do so while there's someone else there to provide a distraction"
Taking a moment to look at Broden, though he avoided meeting his eyes by staring at his chin, Petros asked "Would you happen to know where I could find an establishment catered to spell casters?"
Dorin smiled when the man removed his mask, taking his pipe from his mouth and nodding enthusiastically. "Oh aye, that do sound like a perfect idea lad. I'd be more than appreciative of the company. When we set down we can head to the Inn first thing, if'n ya have nothing to do round the town first." Dorin grinned, sticking the pipe back between his teeth and stroking his heard contentedly.
"It do be good to meet such nice travelling companions. Truly Torag blesses me!"
"I'll join as well. This is one of the easier trips I have made, gladly over land instead of sea. Warm food and cold ale sounds great."
"I've been living on trail rations for longer than I care to admit. A nice bowl of soup, perhaps..."
Running his fingers through his hair, Petros did his best to smooth it away from his eyes as more and more of those he was traveling with offered to join Dorin and he. Once he was comfortable with his hair and a lull in conversation appeared Petros began to speak once more.
"I'm Petros by the way" he said, trying to sound non-chalant. "I'd really prefer to have the rest of your names, besides Dorin and Qot, obviously. I mean, if I see someone slipping something into your food or drink, I'd like to be able to shout something besides "Hey You!'"
He glanced from the aspiring crusader to the bibliophile, avoiding their gaze by looking just over their eyes or beside their heads.
"Oh! Of course. I'm Kaley."
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The covered wagon shudders to a halt as Broden cracks his riding crop in the air. "Woah, woah there girl!" With another snort, the Clydesdale comes to a stop. Ahead the main gate into Fort Inevitable lies, its portcullis drawn up, but two men in heavy plate armor adorned with devilish skulls on the breastplate stand with halberds to block the way.
One of the men walks up to Broden, tilting his head to gain a brief glimpse into the covered wagon. "This is your wagon?" asks the man sharply of Broden.
"Owned it for ten years, sir." Broden pulls out a piece of paper. "Broden Fink, and these folks here are mostly heading towards Mendev."
The man takes piece of paper, unfolding it in the sharp points of his gauntlets. He looks up from the piece of paper, his face fully concealed. "Are you intending to take those goods in your wagon to market?"
"That is my plan," said Broden. "And I know to keep full copies of receipt to pay excise and duties... and..." Broden reached into the coin purse he had put all your payments in, withdrawing a few coins. "The toll."
With that the man looks to Broden, and then all of you. "Step out of the wagon, please."
Broden stiffens. "Is something the matter?"
The man shakes his head, but beckons for Broden to get off of the wagon again, at which point Broden complies. At this point, the guard looks into the covered wagon. You feel his steely gaze on each of you linger for several seconds.
"Come on now, out!"
"Aye, the more the merrier. And I do be right glad to meet you all, that is for sure!" During smiled and was about to continue, as the Wagon pulling up cut him short.
He kept silent as the man dealt with the Hellknights, but he didn't like it. The Hellknights were an unchecked beast, constrained by the Laws, or at least the Laws they themselves set forth. They smelled of rabid zeal, even from here.
When the man stared at him, Dorin felt his skin begin to prickle, an answering feeling of warmth begin to build within.
He stared for a second, frowning, before hopping down from the back of the Wagon, resting his Waraxe non-threateningly against the hub of the wheel, before stepping back and holding his arms wide, to show he was unarmed.
"We have nay done anything Sir. We do be but arrived!"
Starting as the wagon came to a stop, Petros began to pick at his ring, running his fingers over the signet that adorned it. Normally, he only did that when he was casting a spell, but in this case, it was more of a nervous tick.
When the man in the armor stepped into his field of vision, Petros visibly flinched before whispering "Nice mask" . Oddly, he did not look away as he met the man's gaze, his attention obviously captured by whatever magical process the man was using. He rifled through his memory, attempting to make sense of what he believed the man had done. Distracted, he stumbled out of the wagon, nearly tripping before he righted himself and turned to the armored man looking him over.
Despite his nerves Petros whispered softly "Yestes Jadwiga?" which translated from Skald to Common meant something like "Are you Jadwiga?". Though he hated to use the phrase, he tended to use it whenever he spoke Skald.
The monk came out of the wagon in silence, and gently stepped to the side, looking at the mysterious figure with respect and calm. He kept his eyes looking forward, vague.
Knowledge Local Take 10: 10+2=12
Startled by the sudden commands, Kaley looks dazed for a moment before getting out of the wagon with a slight nod and a quiet "Yes, sir." Once outside, she puts her hands in her pockets, looking uncomfortable.
"Coglen" the man simply states.
*******
Content that the Hellknight's spell would spell no trouble for him, Coglen stepped out of the wagon without comment. He stepped to the side in such a manner that no one hellknight could see him and every other member of the party at the same time.
He kept his face towards them, but didn't reach for the weapon strapped horizontally across his lower back.
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Giving a satisfied nod with everyone off the wagon, the guard looked over to the gate. "Commander Drovast! We think this might the be wagon!"
From beyond the portcullis, a woman in full plate, speaking with a man in robes, a scholar or clergyman from mere appearances, turns to the wagon. She steps forward, affording a few of her pale skin, coal-black hair, and austere jaw and chin. She casts an unconcerned glance to all of you, before spinning her heal to face Broden.
The woman's eyes briefly narrow as she looks to Broden. "Are you carrying any illegal substances aboard your wagon?" she asks.
"W-what? No! Why would I be doing something stupid like that?" asks Broden.
The woman sneers before raising up a fist. Before Broden can even flinch, she launches a punch... straight into the wagon's timbers below where he had been sitting. For a moment she appears to be feeling around, and you can now see the distinct features of a hidden compartment.
Pulling her arm out, Commander Drovast holds a burlap bag, a few yellow herbs poking out from between the threads. Holding it between her face and Broden's, Drovast sniffs briefly. "Pesh," she says icily, before tossing the bag to the gate guard, and latching onto Broden's shoulder, digging in with sharp gauntlets.
"Lying to an officer of the peace, mandatory sentence of three years hard labor and seizure of property. Smuggling of illegal goods, one year hard labor. Your days of pushing poison on the people under my protection are over!"
Broden whimpers, and begins screaming in protest as he's dragged off towards the gatehouse, and then inside, the other two guards looking on.
Once the yells of protest had faded into the depths of the keep, the guard nearest you looks to you. "I apologize for your having to see that. We were expecting that smuggler to come by this way. A clever distracting tactic, bringing along unwitting passengers to cover for his own misdeeds." He nodds his head to the gate. "You're free to enter the city. Keep your weapons sheathed, keep to the laws, and don't cause trouble."
Beyond the gate, an open space lies with several empty stalls lying on either side of the road. A small group of children stands a short distance away, one of them clutching a ball, looking towards the gate. Beyond the currently inactive market, you see a red-roofed tavern, its three chimneys letting out a small trail of smoke, most likely the Red Shield Tavern Broden had recommended.
"Well, that was unpleasant. But the law is the law. I am shocked someone would even chance coming here with pesh if three years of hard labor is on the line."
Dorin grabbed his pack from the wagon, making sure the Warhammer was secured tightly to the side, before slinging it over his back and grabbing his axe. Propping the weapon on his shoulder, he sighed sadly. "Aye, Pesh is a hell of a drug and once it gets in to your city, it is hard to root it out. It is for the best our driver got pulled. With them lot running the Labour Camp he will be hard pressed to get his fix on the inside. He will be clean by the time he comes out, if it doesn't kill him. All for the best. Addicts have no quality of life!" he said, as he lit his pipe, taking a couple of draws on the stem, before exhaling a ring of smoke and smiling almost tranquilly.
"So... Breakfast?"
As Broden's fate was sealed, Petros stared intently at his shoes, biting his lip and running his thumb over his ring over and over. When, at last, the armored figures gave the remaining wagon riders leave, he made no move to step forwards. Instead, Petros dropped into a crouch and began to rummage through his backpack. Smiling, Petros tugged his mask from his pack and donned it. After a few moments, a calm settled over him and he began to walk forwards.
"Breakfast sounds like a delightful idea"
Qot looked at the man being taken with a broken heart. He felt genuinely bad for him, but at the end of the day - he chose that path, and now has to deal with it. At least the punishment seems fair. He looked at the other people on the cart and smiled.
I'm in... - he limited himself to say, following them with calm eyes.
This was exactly the sort of thing I left Thornkeep to avoid. Although the Hellknight thing was new. Better than the alternative, I guess.
Tearing herself back to the matter at hand, Kaley responds, "Breakfast, yes. Breakfast. Nothing like greasy food to take your mind off an arrest."
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The decision made to pursue a late-morning meal, you head towards the Red Shield Tavern. Inside the town you take in the sights, sounds and smells of peaceful settled life. The smell of baking bread wafts from townhomes, in the distance a hammer strikes an anvil, and the children from earlier return to play.
Entering the Red Shield Tavern, you find yourself amidst a few dozen tables, most occupied by men and women in well-kept day clothes eating, drinking and talking amongst one another. Judging from the majority of Chellish stock amongst them, they're likely off-duty Hellknights
The interior is lined with solid oak furniture, and a small fire burns at a fireplace in one corner. Opposite it a bar sits, the back well stocked with clean plates, glasses, and a selection of wine and ale kegs. Leaning against the bar, looking over her patrons stands a middle-aged woman, her red hair graying at the edges, but her skin still supple and lacking in blemishes. She eyes the entrance, and then the group, before smiling and gathering a few glasses to place along the bar.
Moving up to the bar, Dorin sets his pack down on the ground carefully, before leaning his axe up against it. "May the Gods smile on you this day dear lady. I do be in powerful need of a cool drink and a hot meal, if'n you please!" He stopped, pulling his pipe from between his lips before taking a deep breath in through his nose, closing his eyes with a smile. "Ah, there do be nothing like the smell of a nice clean Tavern. Good food, good drink and the smell of a wood fire. It do already feel like home!" He grinned up at the woman with an honest smile.
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The woman smiles at Dorin, pleased at the praise he's given of the establishment. "Something cold, of course, and for the meal, how does sausage, eggs, and a fresh loaf of bread sound for your first visit to The Red Shield?" she asks.
She then reaches to a pitcher behind the bar and pulls out a glass. A lone cube of ice floats in the white milk in it. She pours out the drink, careful not to dump the ice into Dorin's glass and then passes it to him.
That would work perfectly for me, thanks. - the monk gives a smile, then looks to the rest of the group with pure eyes. If it wasn't for that translucent form around him, he'd look almost like a normal, young man...
"That sounds like I do be already dead and have come to sit at table with the Gods. A Princely fare my dear lady. I will have plenty of that and more besides!"
He took the glass of milk and took a long gulp of it, careful to keep his beard and mustache out of the glass, before setting it down on to the counter before him gently. "Ah Milk. Good to wash the road out of your mouth and refreshing to boot. So m'lady, I wonder if you could tell me, I am looking for somewhere to stay as I have just arrived, is this something you could help me with? Do there be room in this fine establishment?"
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"Alright, that's two breakfast plates at least," says the woman as she pours out a glass for Qot La'Jal.
"I'm Embra Morsk, and there are rooms upstairs to stay in. Six total. Two silver a night."Embra then departs to the back kitchen, and returns a few moments later with two plates filled with sausage and eggs, along with a baguette lying on top. She lays the plates down, one before Dorin and one before Qot.
"Might I ask what brings you all to Fort Inevitable?" Embra looks between each of you. "Is it regarding High Mother Dremagne's call for people to investigate the undead that have increasingly been wandering out in the Echo Wood? You all certainly look the part for being able to handle such things."
At the sight of the food, Dorin smiles dreamily and begins to reach for the knife at his belt, only stopping when her next words sink in. He paused, looking up at her with a small puzzled frown.
"I do be intending to head on to the Worldwound from here Embra, but now that you mention the Undead trouble, that do sound like something that I may have to look in to!" He nodded slightly, frowning again. "Where do I be able to find this High Mother, if'n you please?"
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"You'll be able to find her in the Temple of the Golden Key. It's just down the road, past the town square and fountain on the right hand side. There aren't any services being held today, so it should be fairly easy to meet with her." Embra looks to the rest of the group as she pours out drinks for the remaining three. "Would any of you care for a bite to eat?"
"Many thanks m'Lady!" Dorin took a seat and began to eat slowly, savoring every bite. As he did he began to run over his options in his head. He could head down to the market and search out a Wagon going to Mendev and the front, right away, or he could maybe stay around town awhile, do some good, help out with their undead problem.
'Heh... If I was a Priest of Pharasma the choice would be obvious. But then I would be a Priest of Pharasma, and that would be weird!' He nodded, taking a sip of milk and looking around the Tavern. 'If I stay I could stay here, seems like a nice place. Food is good, the Mistress of the House is a gem and the place looks clean and cozy. I couldn't do much better myself!'
He nodded and returned to his food. The sausages were particularly delicious.
Paying close attention to what was being said, Petros chose that moment to offer his opinion. After placing his backpack to the side of the seat he was planning to take, the one beside Dorin, Petros took out a pair of gold coins and placed them on the bar.
Slipping into his seat Petros chose to chime in with Dorin "I'm not planning to go to the Worldwound, but I could use some breakfast and a bed. At least four nights, and you can keep any change." he spoke to the wall behind Embra, rather than directly to her, still just a bit too shaken after that encounter with the armored individuals at the city gate.
"And any chance you could use the help of an unaccomplished, inexperienced caster?" Petros muttered to Dorin.
Dorin swallowed his mouthful of food before speaking, "Oh aye. I figure we eat here, maybe put our things in our rooms, those who are taking them, and then we head off to find the Mother Superior. I'd take all the help I can get Petros. And do nay worry, I too am an unaccomplished, inexperienced caster!" He grinned broadly at the man before turning back to the Tavern owner.
"I'll pay for four nights and all. If'n I be needing more I can always say so, no?" He took another mouthful of the delicious breakfast and sighed happily.
'Good food, good company, a nice cold drink and a goal. Is there anything better?'
Kaley pauses for a moment, surveying the empty marketplace before turning to enter the tavern. She notices that Dorin and Petros are already in the midst of both a meal and a conversation.
These two settled in quickly.
She hears Dorin's last remark, and comments, "Four nights? I didn't think you were staying. Mendev and all that."
Dorin glances over his shoulder and smiles at Kaley. "Oh I weren't, not till this lovely woman informed us of the trouble the town has been having with a pack of undead, in the nearby wood. I figure maybe I'll hold off on seeing Mendev and hang around, offer my services to the Mother Superior. Petros do be joining me too. I figure, why would Torag bring me here and put this opportunity in my path, if I weren't meant to follow up on it?" He smiled, taking another bite of food and waving his knife around enthusiastically but carefully.
"It do seem like the right path for me, for the moment anyway!"
"Huh. You'd think undead wouldn't be that much of an issue in a town full of Hellknights. I'd be happy to help out with that, if I'm needed. It's either that or start looking for a job and a place to stay, and I don't think I'm up to that today.
Turning to the woman, she adds, "I'd like a bowl of oatmeal please, ma'am."
Well, this may potentially be a first job... Of something more important. - says the monk, interested - ... And I'd love to be useful to the Law, if they'd need me.