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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 7051090" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>It took a lot of consideration to find a Background that fit with Bredan's character concept.</p><p></p><p>* * * </p><p></p><p>Chapter 6</p><p></p><p>When Bredan emerged from the wrecked smithy the first thing he saw was Glori. The half-elf woman was standing next to the raised porch of the leatherworker’s shop across the way, chatting with Kesren Tull. It looked like she was showing him her lyre, the silver flashing even in the weak glow of the overcast morning.</p><p></p><p>He hesitated for a moment, but she must have somehow sensed his presence, for she turned around and looked his way. When she saw him her face erupted into a broad smile that made the glint from the silver of her instrument seem pale by contrast. He suddenly felt self-conscious but trudged over to meet them. The chainmail was heavy but the weight was well distributed. He had no doubt that it and the sword slung across his back would leave his muscles sore after a day carrying them.</p><p></p><p>“Young Master Karras, you look quite… different,” Tull said.</p><p></p><p>“I guess I look pretty silly,” Bredan said.</p><p></p><p>“You look like a warrior,” Glori said. He looked askance at her, but there seemed to be no teasing in her tone or manner. “Is that your father’s gear?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes. How did you know?”</p><p></p><p>“I didn’t. It just seems… right.”</p><p></p><p>“A moment, a moment before you go,” Tull said. The gnome ran inside, shouting after them to wait.</p><p></p><p>Glori looked down at what he was carrying. “What’s that?”</p><p></p><p>“A shovel. And an iron pot.”</p><p></p><p>“I can see that. What are you doing with them?”</p><p></p><p>“Ah… some of our neighbors came over with gifts this morning, apparently.”</p><p></p><p>“That was nice of them. But why do <em>you</em> have them? Wouldn’t your uncle…”</p><p></p><p>“The gifts were for me. It seems that <em>someone</em> spread the word about what we were planning.”</p><p></p><p>Glori’s look was pure innocence. “Hmm. Okay, I can see where a pot would come in handy. But… a <em>shovel</em>?”</p><p></p><p>“Hey there was a suit of clothes, too. And a purse. They took up a collection. Ten golds! Can you believe it? It appears that I’m some sort of folk hero now, just because I’m apparently dumb enough to go treasure-hunting in the bloody Dry Hills. Don’t laugh.”</p><p></p><p>With an obvious effort Glori’s expression turned serious again. “No, really, it’s nice. And now that I think on it, I think it was General Laxom who wrote that half of an army’s work was digging, and that a shovel was just as important as a sword to bring to war.”</p><p></p><p>“You’re making that up.”</p><p></p><p>“I never lie when it comes to history.”</p><p></p><p>Bredan gave her a dubious look that turned evaluative as he took in the details of her attire. Her outfit was stylish but definitely practical, with sleek trousers tucked into knee-high boots and a vest of rigid leather covering her from throat to hips. Over that she wore both a thick coat and a warm-looking cloak that was currently pulled back to give her arms full range of motion. In addition to her lyre and dagger she carried a compact hunting bow and a quiver of arrows that hung from her hip opposite the instrument.</p><p></p><p>Glori noticed his scrutiny and did a small hip-twist to show off. “How is your uncle doing?” she asked.</p><p></p><p>“He’ll be okay,” Bredan said. “It’s hard for him.” He waved his hand vaguely behind him in the direction of the wrecked smithy, unwilling even to look at it again.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah,” Glori said, understanding what he meant.</p><p></p><p>“Here, here,” Kesran said as he returned. He was carrying a pair of leather packs, one thin and compact, the second square and bulky. Both were covered with decorative scrollwork that showed trees and other plants in the case of the smaller one, and a martial theme of crossed swords and shields for the bigger. Kesran grinned as he held them out to Glori and Bredan.</p><p></p><p>“Please, accept these humble gifts,” the gnome said.</p><p></p><p>Bredan hid his reflexive groan. “Oh, Master Tull, we couldn’t…” he began, but the craftsman quickly shushed him. “You must honor me by taking them. Please, you and your uncle have helped me many times, and Miss Leliades, there have been more than a few customers who said that you sent their custom my way. And besides, as my dear later father used to say, every adventurer must have a good backpack! And comfortable shoes. A good backpack, and shoes.”</p><p></p><p>“Here, I can hold your shovel,” Glori said. Bredan shot her a look but handed it over and took the big pack. He wondered how he was going to manage both the pack and the sword. As if reading his mind the gnome started adjusting the straps for him. “I gave you this one because of your great strength, from the forge. You can fill it with all the many treasures you will find in your adventures.”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t know about all that, Master Tull,” Bredan said.</p><p></p><p>“Nonsense,” Kesran said. “I am certain that you will become quite famous, both of you.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, that would be something,” Bredan said. He looked over to Glori for help, but the bard had already put on her pack and was smiling at him as the gnome helped him make sure his sword was clear and the pack was in place. For the moment they put the iron pot and his tools inside the pack, which looked like it could fit the gnome and a few of his companions inside comfortably. Bredan had to kneel so Kesren could get at the straps, and when he got back up he definitely felt it in his knees.</p><p></p><p>“Thank you, Master Tull,” Glori said when they were ready. “You do us honor with your gifts, and we will put them to good use.” With a subtle bow she thrust the shovel back into Bredan’s hand, took him by the elbow, and led him down the street.</p><p></p><p>“So what was that all about?” Bredan asked.</p><p></p><p>“It was a nice gesture, I thought,” Glori said.</p><p></p><p>“No, I mean, how did he knew that we were going adventuring?”</p><p></p><p>Glori looked over at him. “Well, you don’t exactly look like you’re heading off to fix the hinges on some farmer’s barn door.”</p><p></p><p>“Glori…”</p><p></p><p>“You made him feel good, that he was helping. Him and the others. You and your uncles have made a lot of friends here. You should be grateful.”</p><p></p><p>“I’m not used to being treated like some kind of hero.”</p><p></p><p>“Sir Bredan, master of the blade, lord of the martial dance. Wielder of the mighty shovel of destiny.”</p><p></p><p>Bredan hefted the shovel in mock threat. “Once we’re in town I’m going to find someone to take this back to my uncle.”</p><p></p><p>“We’re not going through town.”</p><p></p><p>He blinked at that. “Where are we going?”</p><p></p><p>“I thought you said you knew Starfinder?”</p><p></p><p>“I said I’d heard of her, like everybody in Crosspath. I’ve never been to her house, or tower, or… whatever.”</p><p></p><p>“It’s a perfectly normal house, and I know exactly where it is. Just outside of town off the south road.”</p><p></p><p>“I didn’t know you and this wizard were old pals,” Bredan said.</p><p></p><p>In response Glori just rolled her eyes at him.</p><p></p><p>They continued on in companionable silence for a while. Glori took them on a route that bypassed the center of town and led them instead through the outskirts to the southern trade road. Bredan found that he was actually glad for that; while he normally was happy to talk with the other townsfolk he wasn’t in the mood for their questions or condolences over what had happened to the smithy. The few people they spotted gave them curious looks but didn’t stop to chat.</p><p></p><p>The houses and shops had started to thin around them when Bredan finally spoke again. “So I take it you didn’t find anybody else to join us for this crazy quest?”</p><p></p><p>“Not directly, but I heard that the monastery is sending someone.”</p><p></p><p>“The monastery?”</p><p></p><p>“That’s what I said. And before you ask, I don’t know who it is yet.”</p><p></p><p>“How did you find out that they’re sending someone?”</p><p></p><p>She grinned and shot him an amused look. “I have spies everywhere.” After a few more steps she asked, “Worried about reducing your share of the reward?”</p><p></p><p>“No. Like I said before, the more people the better, and I suspect a cleric would come in real handy in the Dry Hills.”</p><p></p><p>“What’s bothering you, then?”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t know. I just… I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing, leaving like this.”</p><p></p><p>“It’ll just be a couple of days. A week at most. And then you’ll have a pile of gold, and you can rebuild the smithy and buy a bunch of those big hammers you smiths use to beat on metal all day.”</p><p></p><p>“I think you have a somewhat simple view of my profession,” Bredan said.</p><p></p><p>“Could be,” she said lightly. “But look, we’re here.”</p><p></p><p>Bredan blinked in surprise. The wizard’s house was not what he had been expecting. The place was just a small cottage, nestled against a hill that rose up steeply behind it. The exterior was immaculate, with fresh paint on the window frames and door and a path of round stones that wound through a neatly-kept garden bounded by a whitewashed picket fence. The roof was tile rather than thatch, but otherwise this might have been the dwelling of a middling farmer rather than a renowned practitioner of the arcane arts.</p><p></p><p>Glori apparently was not surprised at all; she had already opened the gate in the fence and gestured for him to hurry up. Bredan swallowed the sudden nervousness that had begun to stir his insides and followed her to the door.</p><p></p><p>There was a small bell-rope next to the entry, but they didn’t need to use it; the door swung silently open at their approach. Again Glori didn’t seem to find anything unusual about that, and Bredan had no choice but to follow her inside. It took him a moment to navigate the narrow doorway with his various burdens, but after a few moments he was able to get inside without breaking anything.</p><p></p><p>The sight that greeted them took him aback. The interior was as neat as the outside, the décor plush and decorative without being overwhelming. There was an assortment of chairs and couches, a number of bookshelves populated by thick volumes and assorted knickknacks, and a couple of rugs that looked thick enough to sleep on. But it was the size of the room that alarmed Bredan; he didn’t need a measuring line to know that its dimensions were significantly greater than the exterior walls.</p><p></p><p>“Magic,” he breathed.</p><p></p><p>Glori elbowed him. “Don’t be silly. It’s just built into the hillside is all.”</p><p></p><p>Bredan flushed as he realized she was right. But as he gave the room a second look he belatedly realized something else; they were not alone.</p><p></p><p>The two men had been standing on the far side of the room, partially obscured behind the mass of a stone hearth that looked large enough to roast an entire pig, if not a small cow. As Glori and Bredan entered the pair turned to face them. Bredan felt his hands twitch and he had to resist an urge to adjust his sword; the strangers hardly looked friendly.</p><p></p><p>One was a half-orc, and he had both the size and ferocious appearance typical of his race. He was clad in a suit of iron scales that Bredan reflexively identified of being of quality make, and carried both a flanged mace and a round shield banded in iron slung across his back. He watched them intently but without apparent hostility.</p><p></p><p>His companion, however, was surly in both his demeanor and expression. He was a dwarf, though oddly enough he lacked a beard. Unlike his friend he didn’t wear armor, just a loose-fitting linen garment that was fastened with ties at his legs, wrists, and throat. He wore leather bracers that were looped through with what looked like narrow strips of metal, and he carried a quarterstaff sized to his height with iron ferrules crimped at each end.</p><p></p><p>Bredan started to reach for Glori to move her behind him, but again he was too late. “Hey there!” she said, skipping forward to greet the pair. She extended a hand to the half-orc, and once he enveloped it in his thick fist gave a firm shake. “I’m Glori, that’s Bredan. You guys here for the job? I mean, the wizard’s mission?”</p><p></p><p>The dwarf scowled, but the half-orc said, “Um… yes?”</p><p></p><p>“Oh, you’re a priest of Hosrenu?” Glori asked.</p><p></p><p>The half-orc’s gaze dropped reflexively to the icon he wore on a long throng around his neck. Bredan stepped forward, curious despite himself. He had not encountered many clerics of the god of knowledge, and the last thing he would have expected was for this uncommon stranger to be one of them.</p><p></p><p>The half-orc fidgeted and looked nervous, which oddly made Bredan feel more confident. The dwarf had folded his arms across his chest and looked impatient. Now that they were closer Bredan could see that what he’d first taken for metal strips inserted into his bracers were in fact slender knives. That realization did not reassure him.</p><p></p><p>Glori just kept looking back and forth between the half-orc and the dwarf with an expectant look on her face until the former cleared his throat and said, “Sorry, I’m being rude, aren’t I? My name is Quellan Emberlane, and my companion is Kosk Stonefist. We’re from the monastery here in town.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh, of course,” Glori said. “I’ve only been out there a few times, but it seems like a very peaceful place.”</p><p></p><p>“You looking to dig a hole, boy?”</p><p></p><p>Bredan blinked at the dwarf’s question, then realized he was still holding the shovel. He flushed and looked around for someplace to leave it but at that moment a door in the back of the room opened and someone new came into the room.</p><p></p><p>This time Bredan wasn’t the only one to do a double-take. The figure that came in was… well, huge didn’t seem sufficient to describe him. He had to bend low to clear the top of the doorway, and when he rose to his full height his head nearly scraped the ceiling. Even Quellan would have only come up to his chin or so, and from what Bredan could make out under the flowing robe he wore he had muscles to match. His features looked human for the most part, though there was a slightly olive tint to his skin that was unusual, and his brow was just a bit too prominent to be typical. His eyes were dark orbs sunk deep under that protruding shelf that fixed on each of the four guests in turn.</p><p></p><p>“The Lady will see you now,” he said in a voice that sounded like stones being crushed into gravel.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 7051090, member: 143"] It took a lot of consideration to find a Background that fit with Bredan's character concept. * * * Chapter 6 When Bredan emerged from the wrecked smithy the first thing he saw was Glori. The half-elf woman was standing next to the raised porch of the leatherworker’s shop across the way, chatting with Kesren Tull. It looked like she was showing him her lyre, the silver flashing even in the weak glow of the overcast morning. He hesitated for a moment, but she must have somehow sensed his presence, for she turned around and looked his way. When she saw him her face erupted into a broad smile that made the glint from the silver of her instrument seem pale by contrast. He suddenly felt self-conscious but trudged over to meet them. The chainmail was heavy but the weight was well distributed. He had no doubt that it and the sword slung across his back would leave his muscles sore after a day carrying them. “Young Master Karras, you look quite… different,” Tull said. “I guess I look pretty silly,” Bredan said. “You look like a warrior,” Glori said. He looked askance at her, but there seemed to be no teasing in her tone or manner. “Is that your father’s gear?” “Yes. How did you know?” “I didn’t. It just seems… right.” “A moment, a moment before you go,” Tull said. The gnome ran inside, shouting after them to wait. Glori looked down at what he was carrying. “What’s that?” “A shovel. And an iron pot.” “I can see that. What are you doing with them?” “Ah… some of our neighbors came over with gifts this morning, apparently.” “That was nice of them. But why do [i]you[/i] have them? Wouldn’t your uncle…” “The gifts were for me. It seems that [i]someone[/i] spread the word about what we were planning.” Glori’s look was pure innocence. “Hmm. Okay, I can see where a pot would come in handy. But… a [i]shovel[/i]?” “Hey there was a suit of clothes, too. And a purse. They took up a collection. Ten golds! Can you believe it? It appears that I’m some sort of folk hero now, just because I’m apparently dumb enough to go treasure-hunting in the bloody Dry Hills. Don’t laugh.” With an obvious effort Glori’s expression turned serious again. “No, really, it’s nice. And now that I think on it, I think it was General Laxom who wrote that half of an army’s work was digging, and that a shovel was just as important as a sword to bring to war.” “You’re making that up.” “I never lie when it comes to history.” Bredan gave her a dubious look that turned evaluative as he took in the details of her attire. Her outfit was stylish but definitely practical, with sleek trousers tucked into knee-high boots and a vest of rigid leather covering her from throat to hips. Over that she wore both a thick coat and a warm-looking cloak that was currently pulled back to give her arms full range of motion. In addition to her lyre and dagger she carried a compact hunting bow and a quiver of arrows that hung from her hip opposite the instrument. Glori noticed his scrutiny and did a small hip-twist to show off. “How is your uncle doing?” she asked. “He’ll be okay,” Bredan said. “It’s hard for him.” He waved his hand vaguely behind him in the direction of the wrecked smithy, unwilling even to look at it again. “Yeah,” Glori said, understanding what he meant. “Here, here,” Kesran said as he returned. He was carrying a pair of leather packs, one thin and compact, the second square and bulky. Both were covered with decorative scrollwork that showed trees and other plants in the case of the smaller one, and a martial theme of crossed swords and shields for the bigger. Kesran grinned as he held them out to Glori and Bredan. “Please, accept these humble gifts,” the gnome said. Bredan hid his reflexive groan. “Oh, Master Tull, we couldn’t…” he began, but the craftsman quickly shushed him. “You must honor me by taking them. Please, you and your uncle have helped me many times, and Miss Leliades, there have been more than a few customers who said that you sent their custom my way. And besides, as my dear later father used to say, every adventurer must have a good backpack! And comfortable shoes. A good backpack, and shoes.” “Here, I can hold your shovel,” Glori said. Bredan shot her a look but handed it over and took the big pack. He wondered how he was going to manage both the pack and the sword. As if reading his mind the gnome started adjusting the straps for him. “I gave you this one because of your great strength, from the forge. You can fill it with all the many treasures you will find in your adventures.” “I don’t know about all that, Master Tull,” Bredan said. “Nonsense,” Kesran said. “I am certain that you will become quite famous, both of you.” “Well, that would be something,” Bredan said. He looked over to Glori for help, but the bard had already put on her pack and was smiling at him as the gnome helped him make sure his sword was clear and the pack was in place. For the moment they put the iron pot and his tools inside the pack, which looked like it could fit the gnome and a few of his companions inside comfortably. Bredan had to kneel so Kesren could get at the straps, and when he got back up he definitely felt it in his knees. “Thank you, Master Tull,” Glori said when they were ready. “You do us honor with your gifts, and we will put them to good use.” With a subtle bow she thrust the shovel back into Bredan’s hand, took him by the elbow, and led him down the street. “So what was that all about?” Bredan asked. “It was a nice gesture, I thought,” Glori said. “No, I mean, how did he knew that we were going adventuring?” Glori looked over at him. “Well, you don’t exactly look like you’re heading off to fix the hinges on some farmer’s barn door.” “Glori…” “You made him feel good, that he was helping. Him and the others. You and your uncles have made a lot of friends here. You should be grateful.” “I’m not used to being treated like some kind of hero.” “Sir Bredan, master of the blade, lord of the martial dance. Wielder of the mighty shovel of destiny.” Bredan hefted the shovel in mock threat. “Once we’re in town I’m going to find someone to take this back to my uncle.” “We’re not going through town.” He blinked at that. “Where are we going?” “I thought you said you knew Starfinder?” “I said I’d heard of her, like everybody in Crosspath. I’ve never been to her house, or tower, or… whatever.” “It’s a perfectly normal house, and I know exactly where it is. Just outside of town off the south road.” “I didn’t know you and this wizard were old pals,” Bredan said. In response Glori just rolled her eyes at him. They continued on in companionable silence for a while. Glori took them on a route that bypassed the center of town and led them instead through the outskirts to the southern trade road. Bredan found that he was actually glad for that; while he normally was happy to talk with the other townsfolk he wasn’t in the mood for their questions or condolences over what had happened to the smithy. The few people they spotted gave them curious looks but didn’t stop to chat. The houses and shops had started to thin around them when Bredan finally spoke again. “So I take it you didn’t find anybody else to join us for this crazy quest?” “Not directly, but I heard that the monastery is sending someone.” “The monastery?” “That’s what I said. And before you ask, I don’t know who it is yet.” “How did you find out that they’re sending someone?” She grinned and shot him an amused look. “I have spies everywhere.” After a few more steps she asked, “Worried about reducing your share of the reward?” “No. Like I said before, the more people the better, and I suspect a cleric would come in real handy in the Dry Hills.” “What’s bothering you, then?” “I don’t know. I just… I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing, leaving like this.” “It’ll just be a couple of days. A week at most. And then you’ll have a pile of gold, and you can rebuild the smithy and buy a bunch of those big hammers you smiths use to beat on metal all day.” “I think you have a somewhat simple view of my profession,” Bredan said. “Could be,” she said lightly. “But look, we’re here.” Bredan blinked in surprise. The wizard’s house was not what he had been expecting. The place was just a small cottage, nestled against a hill that rose up steeply behind it. The exterior was immaculate, with fresh paint on the window frames and door and a path of round stones that wound through a neatly-kept garden bounded by a whitewashed picket fence. The roof was tile rather than thatch, but otherwise this might have been the dwelling of a middling farmer rather than a renowned practitioner of the arcane arts. Glori apparently was not surprised at all; she had already opened the gate in the fence and gestured for him to hurry up. Bredan swallowed the sudden nervousness that had begun to stir his insides and followed her to the door. There was a small bell-rope next to the entry, but they didn’t need to use it; the door swung silently open at their approach. Again Glori didn’t seem to find anything unusual about that, and Bredan had no choice but to follow her inside. It took him a moment to navigate the narrow doorway with his various burdens, but after a few moments he was able to get inside without breaking anything. The sight that greeted them took him aback. The interior was as neat as the outside, the décor plush and decorative without being overwhelming. There was an assortment of chairs and couches, a number of bookshelves populated by thick volumes and assorted knickknacks, and a couple of rugs that looked thick enough to sleep on. But it was the size of the room that alarmed Bredan; he didn’t need a measuring line to know that its dimensions were significantly greater than the exterior walls. “Magic,” he breathed. Glori elbowed him. “Don’t be silly. It’s just built into the hillside is all.” Bredan flushed as he realized she was right. But as he gave the room a second look he belatedly realized something else; they were not alone. The two men had been standing on the far side of the room, partially obscured behind the mass of a stone hearth that looked large enough to roast an entire pig, if not a small cow. As Glori and Bredan entered the pair turned to face them. Bredan felt his hands twitch and he had to resist an urge to adjust his sword; the strangers hardly looked friendly. One was a half-orc, and he had both the size and ferocious appearance typical of his race. He was clad in a suit of iron scales that Bredan reflexively identified of being of quality make, and carried both a flanged mace and a round shield banded in iron slung across his back. He watched them intently but without apparent hostility. His companion, however, was surly in both his demeanor and expression. He was a dwarf, though oddly enough he lacked a beard. Unlike his friend he didn’t wear armor, just a loose-fitting linen garment that was fastened with ties at his legs, wrists, and throat. He wore leather bracers that were looped through with what looked like narrow strips of metal, and he carried a quarterstaff sized to his height with iron ferrules crimped at each end. Bredan started to reach for Glori to move her behind him, but again he was too late. “Hey there!” she said, skipping forward to greet the pair. She extended a hand to the half-orc, and once he enveloped it in his thick fist gave a firm shake. “I’m Glori, that’s Bredan. You guys here for the job? I mean, the wizard’s mission?” The dwarf scowled, but the half-orc said, “Um… yes?” “Oh, you’re a priest of Hosrenu?” Glori asked. The half-orc’s gaze dropped reflexively to the icon he wore on a long throng around his neck. Bredan stepped forward, curious despite himself. He had not encountered many clerics of the god of knowledge, and the last thing he would have expected was for this uncommon stranger to be one of them. The half-orc fidgeted and looked nervous, which oddly made Bredan feel more confident. The dwarf had folded his arms across his chest and looked impatient. Now that they were closer Bredan could see that what he’d first taken for metal strips inserted into his bracers were in fact slender knives. That realization did not reassure him. Glori just kept looking back and forth between the half-orc and the dwarf with an expectant look on her face until the former cleared his throat and said, “Sorry, I’m being rude, aren’t I? My name is Quellan Emberlane, and my companion is Kosk Stonefist. We’re from the monastery here in town.” “Oh, of course,” Glori said. “I’ve only been out there a few times, but it seems like a very peaceful place.” “You looking to dig a hole, boy?” Bredan blinked at the dwarf’s question, then realized he was still holding the shovel. He flushed and looked around for someplace to leave it but at that moment a door in the back of the room opened and someone new came into the room. This time Bredan wasn’t the only one to do a double-take. The figure that came in was… well, huge didn’t seem sufficient to describe him. He had to bend low to clear the top of the doorway, and when he rose to his full height his head nearly scraped the ceiling. Even Quellan would have only come up to his chin or so, and from what Bredan could make out under the flowing robe he wore he had muscles to match. His features looked human for the most part, though there was a slightly olive tint to his skin that was unusual, and his brow was just a bit too prominent to be typical. His eyes were dark orbs sunk deep under that protruding shelf that fixed on each of the four guests in turn. “The Lady will see you now,” he said in a voice that sounded like stones being crushed into gravel. [/QUOTE]
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