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Beauty and the Beast: The adventures of Hulgor and Gwennid! Updated 7/11!
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<blockquote data-quote="Munin" data-source="post: 2389468" data-attributes="member: 5722"><p style="text-align: center">Session IV, part II</p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>entering Endhome and the Tangled Web</em></p><p></p><p>The next morning, Hulgor awoke burning with fever. He was so weak he could hardly move and so ended up in the rear wagon with the rest of the wounded men. Knowing full well the superstition of men, Gwennid took the rear watch to better keep an eye on her friend. Just as she suspected, guards eyed him warily, and whispered that anyone bitten by a zombie would awake the next day as one himself. She was afraid the men would simply toss him out of the wagon and let him die on the side of the road, but either because of her constant vigilance or because of his heroics the day before, the men did nothing more than make wards against evil with their hands and keep a watchful eye on the half-orc. </p><p></p><p>By midday the train passed out of the Duskmoon hills and out into gently rolling grasslands. Farmsteads, the first signs of civilization in days, began to dot the land. Two days later, about the same time that Hulgor’s fever finally broke, the caravan train reached the great iron gates of Endhome. </p><p></p><p>Endhome was built on the fertile delta where the Gaeon river fed into the Sinar ocean. Thirty-foot high stone walls protected her citizens, and were patrolled regularly by men armed with spears and crossbows. Towers, spaced at regular intervals, sported massive ballista along with the regular contingent of watchmen. At the gates, clerks took record of all goods that passed into the city and assessed a tax, which was the main income of the city. Endhome was a small city-state surrounded by much stronger nations. Its wealth and militaristic bent ensured its independence for hundreds of years. </p><p></p><p>The road leading in to Endhome was choked with traffic. It took two hours from the gates to reach the central market, where the caravan crew began unloading goods. Hulgor and Gwennid joined the line of guardsmen awaiting their pay. </p><p></p><p>“What’s this?” Hulgor grumbled when the caravan master dropped eight gold into his hand.</p><p></p><p>“That’s your pay, son. Don’t spend it all in one place.”</p><p></p><p>“That’s it? We saved yer bacon back in the hills, and all we git is a lousy eight gold?” Hulgor was incredulous. </p><p></p><p>“And for that I’m thankful, but it’s twice what the others are getting, so take your money and beat it.” The man replied bluntly. </p><p></p><p>Gwennid took Hulgor by the arm and pulled him away. She could tell by the look in his eye that the half-orc was about to swing, and that’s the last thing they needed. “C’mon, it’s not worth it, Hulgor. It got us here, didn’t it? I would hate to have faced those things alone. We need to find a place to stay, anyway.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>A few minutes later…</p><p></p><p>The pair stood in front of the Heaven’s Gate Inn. They were told that it was the pride of the city, and from the outside they couldn’t imagine a more palatial establishment. Five stories of white marble walls, crystal windows and an expertly manicured lawn dominated their view. A six-foot wall, covered in a thick growth of ivy, surrounded the entire complex. In the rear there was even a separate servant’s quarters and stables.</p><p></p><p>As they passed the front gates and walked up to the carved double-doors, an elderly steward approached. “Will you be guests at the Heaven’s Gate tonight?” he asked.</p><p></p><p>“Well,” Gwennid responded, “that depends on how much it will cost.”</p><p></p><p>“Ahem. If you have to ask, madam, perhaps you should consider one of Endhome’s less…exclusive establishments.”</p><p></p><p>Hulgor cleared his throat and folded massive arms across his thick chest. He glared down at the frail steward and narrowed his eyes.</p><p></p><p>The man glanced behind Gwennid to the large half-orc standing behind her. “I see,” stammered the steward, “well, the pricing is all-inclusive, and starts at eight gold pieces per night for our standard rooms. From there the price increases up to fifty a night for our Imperial Suite, which is currently taken. Heaven’s Gate IS the most exclusive resort in the city. We regularly host foreign dignitaries, as well as important members of Endhome society. Proper attire and conduct is expected at ALL times.” He said the last while going over their clothes with a critical eye.</p><p></p><p>“I think this will do nicely, what do you think, Hulgor?” asked Gwen.</p><p></p><p>The half-orc grunted his agreement, and much to the dislike of the steward the pair continued into the inn, followed by a small train of young attendants carrying their meager luggage behind them, while a small assembly of stable boys began tending to their horses. </p><p></p><p>Heaven’s Gate lived up to its name. Each room was assigned a waiter, who saw to the needs of the guests. Scented baths were immediately provided for the hot, dusty travelers, and when that was done, Gwen collapsed into the thick, down-filled bed. She sank into the white comforter and let out a deep sigh. <em>This is the life</em>, she thought.</p><p></p><p>A private dinner was held each night on the fifth floor of the inn. It was more than a simple dinner, they were informed, it was a regular gathering of the social elite of the city. It sounded like an excellent opportunity to Gwennid, who wanted to make some connections with the upper crust. </p><p></p><p>When she was young, Gwennid caught a glimpse of the liege lord of her province and his wife. She remembered the splendor of their dress, the air of dignity and authority that surrounded them, which spoke more of their position than any title. At the time, she couldn’t imagine seeing greater wealth and grace than that, but she saw it tonight. Even with the finery provided by her waiter, she felt grossly underdressed. Gwennid was sure that some of the ladies wore dresses that were worth more than her entire village and everything in it, and poor Hulgor looked like something out of a comedy in a bursting-at-the-seams suit that was much, much to small for his frame. She couldn’t possibly have felt more out of place. <em>But</em>, she thought, <em>I’m here now, might as well make the best of it.</em></p><p></p><p>From their vantage point near the back of the room, Gwennid could make out the three most prominent players. On a raised dais in one corner sat a portly middle-aged gentleman. He had an inviting smile and a hearty laugh. In the shadow of a pillar behind him stood a grim, dangerous character who eyed everyone who approached the dais with suspicion. </p><p></p><p>Sitting in a slightly smaller table near the exact middle of the room sat a strikingly handsome man with black hair and a neatly trimmed black mustache. He had olive skin and piercing green eyes. Next to him sat an equally beautiful woman with similar features whom she assumed to be his sister. Unlike the other table, which was a flurry of activity, the pair sat alone, in quiet conversation between themselves.</p><p></p><p>On the other side of the room at another prominent table was an older gentleman with a full crown of white hair and a trimmed beard. He was a large man and had the grim look of a soldier about him, despite the fine attire. He paid little heed to the others, instead focusing on a thick steak and pint of ale. </p><p></p><p>She motioned her waiter over to her table, “I’m sorry, I’m newly arrived to Endhome,” she began, trying her best to mask a small-town accent. “Who are these gentlemen? I can tell by appearances that they are important figures.”</p><p></p><p>The waiter cleared his throat, and began by discreetly pointing to the portly man on the dais. “That would be the governor of Endhome, Ranlan Pool, currently running for re-election, the gentleman behind him is his personal bodyguard Kilgore Spink, not a fellow to be trifled with.” He pointed out a man sitting next to him with a neatly trimmed goatee and ponytail. “That, is Stylus Kant, the current headmaster of the Wizard’s Academy.” </p><p></p><p>He then turned to the couple in the center of the room. “Here we have Lurton and Amelia Gaspar. Their place among Endhome’s social elite isn’t so much secure as it is unassailable, they ARE the elite of the elite.”</p><p></p><p>“Finally, there’s Fernando Quinchino. Don’t let his appearance fool you, he is a very dangerous man. Together, they represent three of the most important factions of Endhome. The only other family of their ilk not in attendance are the Pulanti, but they have not made a public appearance in some time now.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh really?” Hulgor followed Gwennid’s lead and enunciated each word carefully. “Are they well?”</p><p></p><p>The waiter coughed softly.</p><p></p><p>Hulgor frowned and slid a gold piece across the table, which the waiter quietly pocketed.</p><p></p><p>“Well, the rumors are flying, but this I do know: none of the Pulanti clan has been seen in months, the grounds of the Pulanti estate have fallen into disrepair, many of the household servants have been dismissed or gone missing, and some have reported strange noises coming from the depths of the mansion in the middle of the night.”</p><p></p><p>“Has no one investigated?” Gwennid asked.</p><p></p><p>“To be sure, questions have been asked, but one does not <em>investigate</em> the Pulantis. They are the oldest, wealthiest family in the city.”</p><p></p><p>“Interesting,” said Hulgor. “What of the others?”</p><p></p><p>The waiter again coughed discreetly.</p><p></p><p>Hulgor slid over a gold piece with a growing frown; this information gathering business was getting expensive.</p><p></p><p>“As I’m sure you know,” the waiter began, “elections are coming up soon. Ranlan is backed by the powerful guilds of the middle-class, but the old money wants to put one of theirs in charge. Both the Gaspar and the Quinchinos have fronted a candidate, so there is plenty of intrigue and politicking to go around, and it will only get worse the closer we come to Election Day.”</p><p></p><p>“Sounds like an excellent opportunity for two discriminating yet capable sellswords.” Gwennid replied casually.</p><p></p><p>“Surely.”</p><p></p><p>She pressed forward, “Perhaps you know of someone who could put it in the ears of any possible employers that the aforementioned swords are looking for hire?”</p><p></p><p>“I may know of someone,” he said, looking down at the spot on the table where Hulgor had passed over his gold pieces. Hulgor groaned quietly, and slid over five more.</p><p></p><p>“As it so happens,” the waiter said as he took the gold, “I know just the person to talk to. I think you’ll find productive employment in no time at all.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>The next morning…</p><p></p><p>It didn’t take long at all for Hulgor’s investment to pay off. As the pair ate their breakfast in the lower dining room, a figure approached the table. He was well dressed, and carried himself in a professional, confident manner. “May I join you?” he asked.</p><p></p><p>“Certainly,” Hulgor replied.</p><p></p><p>The man got right to business. “It has come to my attention that the two of you are looking for employment. Is that so?” He looked the pair over as he spoke, his gaze was intense, and searching.</p><p></p><p>“Yes.” said Hulgor</p><p></p><p>“Good. My employer is very well financed, and is interested in a discreet, unattached third party to carry out some simple tasks. Secrecy and professionalism are of the utmost importance. Would you be interested?”</p><p></p><p>“May I ask who your employer is?” Gwennid asked.</p><p></p><p>“No.”</p><p></p><p>“Go on,” she replied, undaunted.</p><p></p><p>“It is in the best interest of my employer that we first determine your trustworthiness and ability. To that end, I have an offer that will test those two qualities.” He paused to sip his drink.</p><p>“There is an individual, who for reasons that are unknown to us, has taken up dwelling in the sewers west of here. I need you to contact him and deliver this message.” He handed Hulgor a scroll sealed with wax. </p><p>He continued, “Find this person, deliver the message, and return here. It’s that simple.”</p><p></p><p>“Uh, can we get a name?” Hulgor asked.</p><p></p><p>“No.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, how do we find this person if we don’t know his name?”</p><p></p><p>The man thought for a few seconds before answering, “This individual is a practicer of the forbidden arts, that should in itself provide enough information to identify him. But if not, I will also share with you that not too long ago this person ran an opium den that was operated from an abandoned sewer canal.”</p><p></p><p>“That’s not a whole lot of information,” Gwennid noted.</p><p></p><p>“Precisely. But this IS your profession, is it not? When you return, assuming you succeed, you will be given a payment of 300 gold pieces, and additional, more lucrative assignments. Do we have a concord?”</p><p></p><p>Hulgor and Gwennid looked at each other. “Yes,” they replied together.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Munin, post: 2389468, member: 5722"] [center]Session IV, part II [i]entering Endhome and the Tangled Web[/i][/center] The next morning, Hulgor awoke burning with fever. He was so weak he could hardly move and so ended up in the rear wagon with the rest of the wounded men. Knowing full well the superstition of men, Gwennid took the rear watch to better keep an eye on her friend. Just as she suspected, guards eyed him warily, and whispered that anyone bitten by a zombie would awake the next day as one himself. She was afraid the men would simply toss him out of the wagon and let him die on the side of the road, but either because of her constant vigilance or because of his heroics the day before, the men did nothing more than make wards against evil with their hands and keep a watchful eye on the half-orc. By midday the train passed out of the Duskmoon hills and out into gently rolling grasslands. Farmsteads, the first signs of civilization in days, began to dot the land. Two days later, about the same time that Hulgor’s fever finally broke, the caravan train reached the great iron gates of Endhome. Endhome was built on the fertile delta where the Gaeon river fed into the Sinar ocean. Thirty-foot high stone walls protected her citizens, and were patrolled regularly by men armed with spears and crossbows. Towers, spaced at regular intervals, sported massive ballista along with the regular contingent of watchmen. At the gates, clerks took record of all goods that passed into the city and assessed a tax, which was the main income of the city. Endhome was a small city-state surrounded by much stronger nations. Its wealth and militaristic bent ensured its independence for hundreds of years. The road leading in to Endhome was choked with traffic. It took two hours from the gates to reach the central market, where the caravan crew began unloading goods. Hulgor and Gwennid joined the line of guardsmen awaiting their pay. “What’s this?” Hulgor grumbled when the caravan master dropped eight gold into his hand. “That’s your pay, son. Don’t spend it all in one place.” “That’s it? We saved yer bacon back in the hills, and all we git is a lousy eight gold?” Hulgor was incredulous. “And for that I’m thankful, but it’s twice what the others are getting, so take your money and beat it.” The man replied bluntly. Gwennid took Hulgor by the arm and pulled him away. She could tell by the look in his eye that the half-orc was about to swing, and that’s the last thing they needed. “C’mon, it’s not worth it, Hulgor. It got us here, didn’t it? I would hate to have faced those things alone. We need to find a place to stay, anyway.” A few minutes later… The pair stood in front of the Heaven’s Gate Inn. They were told that it was the pride of the city, and from the outside they couldn’t imagine a more palatial establishment. Five stories of white marble walls, crystal windows and an expertly manicured lawn dominated their view. A six-foot wall, covered in a thick growth of ivy, surrounded the entire complex. In the rear there was even a separate servant’s quarters and stables. As they passed the front gates and walked up to the carved double-doors, an elderly steward approached. “Will you be guests at the Heaven’s Gate tonight?” he asked. “Well,” Gwennid responded, “that depends on how much it will cost.” “Ahem. If you have to ask, madam, perhaps you should consider one of Endhome’s less…exclusive establishments.” Hulgor cleared his throat and folded massive arms across his thick chest. He glared down at the frail steward and narrowed his eyes. The man glanced behind Gwennid to the large half-orc standing behind her. “I see,” stammered the steward, “well, the pricing is all-inclusive, and starts at eight gold pieces per night for our standard rooms. From there the price increases up to fifty a night for our Imperial Suite, which is currently taken. Heaven’s Gate IS the most exclusive resort in the city. We regularly host foreign dignitaries, as well as important members of Endhome society. Proper attire and conduct is expected at ALL times.” He said the last while going over their clothes with a critical eye. “I think this will do nicely, what do you think, Hulgor?” asked Gwen. The half-orc grunted his agreement, and much to the dislike of the steward the pair continued into the inn, followed by a small train of young attendants carrying their meager luggage behind them, while a small assembly of stable boys began tending to their horses. Heaven’s Gate lived up to its name. Each room was assigned a waiter, who saw to the needs of the guests. Scented baths were immediately provided for the hot, dusty travelers, and when that was done, Gwen collapsed into the thick, down-filled bed. She sank into the white comforter and let out a deep sigh. [I]This is the life[/I], she thought. A private dinner was held each night on the fifth floor of the inn. It was more than a simple dinner, they were informed, it was a regular gathering of the social elite of the city. It sounded like an excellent opportunity to Gwennid, who wanted to make some connections with the upper crust. When she was young, Gwennid caught a glimpse of the liege lord of her province and his wife. She remembered the splendor of their dress, the air of dignity and authority that surrounded them, which spoke more of their position than any title. At the time, she couldn’t imagine seeing greater wealth and grace than that, but she saw it tonight. Even with the finery provided by her waiter, she felt grossly underdressed. Gwennid was sure that some of the ladies wore dresses that were worth more than her entire village and everything in it, and poor Hulgor looked like something out of a comedy in a bursting-at-the-seams suit that was much, much to small for his frame. She couldn’t possibly have felt more out of place. [I]But[/I], she thought, [I]I’m here now, might as well make the best of it.[/I] From their vantage point near the back of the room, Gwennid could make out the three most prominent players. On a raised dais in one corner sat a portly middle-aged gentleman. He had an inviting smile and a hearty laugh. In the shadow of a pillar behind him stood a grim, dangerous character who eyed everyone who approached the dais with suspicion. Sitting in a slightly smaller table near the exact middle of the room sat a strikingly handsome man with black hair and a neatly trimmed black mustache. He had olive skin and piercing green eyes. Next to him sat an equally beautiful woman with similar features whom she assumed to be his sister. Unlike the other table, which was a flurry of activity, the pair sat alone, in quiet conversation between themselves. On the other side of the room at another prominent table was an older gentleman with a full crown of white hair and a trimmed beard. He was a large man and had the grim look of a soldier about him, despite the fine attire. He paid little heed to the others, instead focusing on a thick steak and pint of ale. She motioned her waiter over to her table, “I’m sorry, I’m newly arrived to Endhome,” she began, trying her best to mask a small-town accent. “Who are these gentlemen? I can tell by appearances that they are important figures.” The waiter cleared his throat, and began by discreetly pointing to the portly man on the dais. “That would be the governor of Endhome, Ranlan Pool, currently running for re-election, the gentleman behind him is his personal bodyguard Kilgore Spink, not a fellow to be trifled with.” He pointed out a man sitting next to him with a neatly trimmed goatee and ponytail. “That, is Stylus Kant, the current headmaster of the Wizard’s Academy.” He then turned to the couple in the center of the room. “Here we have Lurton and Amelia Gaspar. Their place among Endhome’s social elite isn’t so much secure as it is unassailable, they ARE the elite of the elite.” “Finally, there’s Fernando Quinchino. Don’t let his appearance fool you, he is a very dangerous man. Together, they represent three of the most important factions of Endhome. The only other family of their ilk not in attendance are the Pulanti, but they have not made a public appearance in some time now.” “Oh really?” Hulgor followed Gwennid’s lead and enunciated each word carefully. “Are they well?” The waiter coughed softly. Hulgor frowned and slid a gold piece across the table, which the waiter quietly pocketed. “Well, the rumors are flying, but this I do know: none of the Pulanti clan has been seen in months, the grounds of the Pulanti estate have fallen into disrepair, many of the household servants have been dismissed or gone missing, and some have reported strange noises coming from the depths of the mansion in the middle of the night.” “Has no one investigated?” Gwennid asked. “To be sure, questions have been asked, but one does not [I]investigate[/I] the Pulantis. They are the oldest, wealthiest family in the city.” “Interesting,” said Hulgor. “What of the others?” The waiter again coughed discreetly. Hulgor slid over a gold piece with a growing frown; this information gathering business was getting expensive. “As I’m sure you know,” the waiter began, “elections are coming up soon. Ranlan is backed by the powerful guilds of the middle-class, but the old money wants to put one of theirs in charge. Both the Gaspar and the Quinchinos have fronted a candidate, so there is plenty of intrigue and politicking to go around, and it will only get worse the closer we come to Election Day.” “Sounds like an excellent opportunity for two discriminating yet capable sellswords.” Gwennid replied casually. “Surely.” She pressed forward, “Perhaps you know of someone who could put it in the ears of any possible employers that the aforementioned swords are looking for hire?” “I may know of someone,” he said, looking down at the spot on the table where Hulgor had passed over his gold pieces. Hulgor groaned quietly, and slid over five more. “As it so happens,” the waiter said as he took the gold, “I know just the person to talk to. I think you’ll find productive employment in no time at all.” The next morning… It didn’t take long at all for Hulgor’s investment to pay off. As the pair ate their breakfast in the lower dining room, a figure approached the table. He was well dressed, and carried himself in a professional, confident manner. “May I join you?” he asked. “Certainly,” Hulgor replied. The man got right to business. “It has come to my attention that the two of you are looking for employment. Is that so?” He looked the pair over as he spoke, his gaze was intense, and searching. “Yes.” said Hulgor “Good. My employer is very well financed, and is interested in a discreet, unattached third party to carry out some simple tasks. Secrecy and professionalism are of the utmost importance. Would you be interested?” “May I ask who your employer is?” Gwennid asked. “No.” “Go on,” she replied, undaunted. “It is in the best interest of my employer that we first determine your trustworthiness and ability. To that end, I have an offer that will test those two qualities.” He paused to sip his drink. “There is an individual, who for reasons that are unknown to us, has taken up dwelling in the sewers west of here. I need you to contact him and deliver this message.” He handed Hulgor a scroll sealed with wax. He continued, “Find this person, deliver the message, and return here. It’s that simple.” “Uh, can we get a name?” Hulgor asked. “No.” “Well, how do we find this person if we don’t know his name?” The man thought for a few seconds before answering, “This individual is a practicer of the forbidden arts, that should in itself provide enough information to identify him. But if not, I will also share with you that not too long ago this person ran an opium den that was operated from an abandoned sewer canal.” “That’s not a whole lot of information,” Gwennid noted. “Precisely. But this IS your profession, is it not? When you return, assuming you succeed, you will be given a payment of 300 gold pieces, and additional, more lucrative assignments. Do we have a concord?” Hulgor and Gwennid looked at each other. “Yes,” they replied together. [/QUOTE]
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