In the Valus - The Heroes of Marchford (Chapter 14 Continues - 12/24/08)

[Funeris]

Chapter 9: Death in the Family Continued

Ha! Third update today. Internet access at home is awesome!

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Magnus and Fitz stared the merchant down. But as per his usual panache, the merchant just beamed.

“Look, I respect your business, but I’m not sure I can really give you the amount you probably want for the merchandise.” His words were silky smooth; they always were. “I mean, I don’t even know exactly what uses this medallion could have. It’s beyond my means to appraise properly. I know a few people that can but,” he paused and punctuated his statement with a finger jabbing in the air, “it may take awhile.” He smiled again and then leaned casually and noncommittally against his countertop.

“Gaius, you know as well as we do, that we don’t have the time to wait for a ‘proper’ appraisal.” Magnus was beginning to become annoyed with the constant haggling games with this merchant. Still, the man had connections and was good at what he did. So, Magnus swallowed his pride and asked what needed to be asked. “What can you give us for the medallion?”

“Ahhh…I’m so sorry you don’t have the time. Let’s see, how much could I give you for it?” Gaius’ long slender arm reached upward to massage his brain as he did some quick computations.

“Stop toying with us, Gaius. As has already been stated; we don’t have the time.”

“Of course, of course Master Burn. I would never desire to ‘toy’ with you, as you say. It’s just that this is a difficult business and if I calculate wrong, even slightly, then I could jeopardize my business. You know, it’s a very perilous occupation buying and selling goods. One wrong move and I could lose my livelihood. Surely you understand?”

“Of course we do,” Magnus patronized, “How much?”

“Um…well…Fifteen hundred silvers?”

“Seventeen-Fifty,” Magnus challenged. “And I get a discount on a few spells.” Magnus glared at the shopkeeper.

“Fine, fine,” Gaius began, “Seventeen hundred and fifty silvers for the medallion.” The merchant’s quick hands snapped up the medallion from countertop. “But, no discount on spells.” Another cocky grin stretched across his face.

“Fine,” the young mage assented. The merchant tossed a pre-counted bag of silvers across the table.

“Anything else my ever-gracious customers? Aside from the spells the young Master Burn would like?”

“Yes, actually, I’d like to talk to you about a suit of armor.” Both Fitz and Gaius smiled.

 

[Funeris]

Chapter 9: Death in the Family Continued

Hope you guys & gals think I'm putting this whole lack of sleep thing to good use.

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Motega passed the flask to the trapper. The burly man took a great gulp, nearly draining the tin. The man was rough, even for a trapper. His beard was growing in scraggly and dark in patches across his strong jaw. The black hair falling to his shoulders was tinged with silver and dirt from weeks in the woods. A pungent, sweaty odor clung to his worn leather clothing and equally worn gear. Two piercing blue eyes, ever alert, peered from underneath the silver-black mop of hair dancing over his forehead.

Motega had instantly liked the trapper Algach. He had caught sight of the trapper moving on the edge of a wood just north of the town. His pursuit had not gone unnoticed and eventually Algach had allowed Motega to catch up. Algach had been hunting and trapping in the lands around Dun Moor for the majority of his life. No one could outsmart him in his own forests and hills.

The trapper, unlike many in Rhelm, held no racism toward this man from the Rornlands. Algach felt everyone akin with nature was as a brother. And so, he had allowed the Rornman to catch up with him. Together, they had continued along the trail in silence, pursuing their prey and measuring each others skills.

An hour farther along the deer-path, Motega split from the trail. Algach had paused in surprise at the Rorn’s change in direction. The tracks continued to lead north and the Rorn had broken off into the brush along the left side. The trapper paused for a brief inspection of Motega’s new path but could find no reason to follow. He paused, taking in the filtered sunlight passing through the heavy green leaves and the warm breeze flowing through the forest. His curiosity peeked the trapper followed the Rornman’s new trail.

Fifty feet further, just over a slight ridge Motega knelt on the dry earth, an arrow drawn. Algach quietly moved into a position slightly behind and to the right of the Rorn, peering through the brush. Not twenty-five feet directly ahead, a large buck and several doe lapped water from a sliver of stream. Algach saw Motega’s bead on the buck and drew his own bow, taking aim at one of the larger doe.

As one, the trapper and Rorn released their arrows. A soft whistling sound pierced the canopy as the buck and doe were slammed by the wooden shafts. The buck took two steps before collapsing onto the forest floor; the doe made it no farther. The remaining deer began to dart away. Algach stood but Motega had somehow managed to release another arrow; another doe fell.

Algach’s mouth hung open as Motega stood, replacing his bow. The Rorn then handed the trapper the flask of firewater. Brother, indeed.

Algach and Motega had feasted quietly on the buck. The antlers had been removed, all of the deer skinned. The meat that couldn’t be readily devoured had been salted and preserved enough to make the return trip to Dun Moor. Once the feast had been finished, Algach turned toward the Rorn.

“How did you know they were to the northwest? The trail led north.”

Motega grinned. “I could smell them.”

“Impressive. My next question would be: Why were you following me?”

“For information, friend. Just some information.”

 

[TheYeti1775]

Happy Day ....


It's a good glorious Monday to come into work and have updates to read so not to be bored.


Still much more to tell. You know you could update at this rate every day till our next game day and I think you would still not catch up to us in game time. So rest assured folks he has plenty more to write about for you all to read.

And for those who are wondering about the Gem we gave Lady Erigal it was a 50GP gem. May not seem like a lot till you take into account Valus is a Silver based economy. (i.e. 1 SP in Valus is equal to 1 GP in Greyhawk/Realms) You will see us be stingy enough, but for some reason we have soft spots for those we rescue.

Now where is Gimpy the Midget to crack his whip on our boy to get back to writing.

 

[hobbit_killer]

Good stuff there Fune. Glad to here everyone is doing well. Reading this stuff makes me want to go back and pimp slap Lady Erigal. Keep up the good work and give the little one a PHB to keep him company at night, and tell him good children grow up to be paladins and rangers. Bad children grow up to be bards.

Your friendly neighborhood cannibal.

 

[Funeris]

LoL. I'm already reading the PHB to him Mo'. Its under control. Good kids grow up to be paladins??? I think my parents would have something to say to the contrary....

 

[TheYeti1775]

Everyone knows...

Good kids grow up to be
Archmages like Uncle Magnus.

 

[hobbit_killer]

LoL. I'm already reading the PHB to him Mo'. Its under control. Good kids grow up to be paladins??? I think my parents would have something to say to the contrary....

Paladins lead to hate, hate leads to anger, anger leads to Blackguards!

Seriously, no self respecting Blackguard didn't do his time as a goody two shoes.

As far as Archmages go, the motto of a wizard is 'Be Prepared', sounds like a boyscout to me, bleh. Now a sorcerer is another story....

Your friendly neighborhood cannibal.

 

[Funeris]

Chapter 9: Death in the Family Continued

Ok, its short. Hopefully its the first of several posts. That is if the Yeti keeps bugging me tonight

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The Heroes plopped down one by one by two around their table at the Weeping Willow Bar and Inn. The ale had been flowing nearly freely for an hour before Motega stalked in to take his own chair.

The Rorn was laden with dirt, strands of mud interwoven with his thick black hair. A content smile was on his face as he dove into the ale. Already he reeked of alcohol and not the watered-down ale kind.

“The amulet has been taken care of?” Tobias questioned.

“Done and done.” Magnus grinned. Tobias’ eyebrow began to arch.

“It’s been placed into appropriate hands to be rid of,” Fitz affirmed.

“Good.”

“And,” Fitz added, “I’ve had a suit of armor commissioned. And the mage and I have purchased some useful supplies. Besides, what did you do today?”

“Nothing of any import to you. Just explored the city.”

“I’ve gathered some information.” Motega paused to capture everyone’s attention as he grabbed his fourth goblet of mead. “Seems the Earl here has been recruiting the trappers and hunters in this area to track the dwem. The trappers and hunters have been smuggling information between towns and cities.

“The dwem hit Dun Beric hard that first night then practically disappeared. But there have been even more troubles farther north, near Victorsburg and Rhelm. The forces in the north, if they are separate forces, seem to be larger than the group of one hundred sighted here.

“But the information is sketchy at best. Several trappers have gone missing. And so the Earl has forbidden the trappers to leave the lands surrounding Dun Moor. The hunter I spoke to says a force was sighted just to the west of here not long ago. But further attempts to find the dwem were unsuccessful.

“Also, my friend claimed there are a set of caves just to the north of town maybe ten miles north of here, maybe twenty. The caves used to be frequented by bandits but they’ve been abandoned recently. A strange scent akin to rot has repelled the beasts naturally found in the area.

“Algoch says the caves run generally south-southeast. If that is their course, then they should probably intersect with the tunnels under Llyndofare. Probably right where the nests of those carrion crawlers were. I think we need to investigate those caves. I’d bet a good barrel of mead the dwem are held up there.” Motega grabbed another tankard and looked up at the party.

Everyone else’s tankards had stopped halfway to their mouths that hung wide open in confusion. Magnus looked most astounded.

“What!?” Motega roared.

“You…,” the mage stammered, “you spoke. In…in complete sentences…paragraphs even!”

Motega grunted as he finished his tankard.

 

[Funeris]

Chapter 9: Death in the Family Continued

Second update for tonight.

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The night passed quietly in the Inn, as quietly as could be expected. Fitz woke the other party members an hour after dawn. The gear was gathered quickly and quietly and they poured into the common room for a quick meal.

Fresh eggs and bacon quickly disappeared from their plates. No words were spoken about their plans. All had decided the caves north of town were the best place to begin their search for the dwem. Of course, four could probably do very little against an army of the deep dwarves but still this was an information gathering mission.

Only the nervous barkeep seemed off on the beautiful early summer morning. The man was overweight and balding, as per the norm with barkeeps. Yet, he seemed filled with anxiety as he bounced quickly to refill plates and mugs. A slight tremor in his hands vibrated the platters of food while rushing about.

He leaned in to slap more bacon onto Motega’s plate when the Rorn’s arm snapped out and grabbed his wrist. The platter of bacon dropped onto the table, nearly overturning as the man tried to pull away.

“Ow…ow…ow!” The man pulled back again. “Uh…could you…um let go of my wrist?” Motega glared at him. “Uh…please?” The Rorn retracted his grip cautiously. The bartender snatched the bacon off the table and stepped backward.

“What troubles you so badly this morning barkeep?” Fitz did not bother to look up as he spoke, still cramming food down his gullet.

“Well my good sirs, let me just say that I’m a man of small means. And normally, normally I would ne’er do what happened last night. But he was so persuasive. And he gave me three silvers. I really don’t usually accept bribes, you must understand…”

“Grmm mmph blarm.” Fitz paused to swallow his mouthful. “Stop your prattling. Just be direct. We’re here, we’re listening. What did this man want?”

“Well…uh he wanted to know if you all were staying here. And I couldn’t refuse him. He slipped me three silvers just for a yes or no. And then he promptly left.”

“Well, it seems there was no harm done, uh…what’s your name again?”

“Graham.”

“Right, well, Graham. You did right in telling us. What did this man look like?”

“Well, sirs, he looked like a farmer. A large man, rough looking. He looked like he hadn’t shaved or bathed in days. And he carried a pickaxe.” The Heroes finished their plates and stood, hefting their gear onto their backs.

“You’ve done well Graham. Breakfast was delicious. The room was pleasant as ever. We like your establishment. And now we know we can trust you. You can count on our business.” Fitz beamed to try to put the man at ease. “I don’t suppose you got his name?”

“Well, no. He didn’t give me his name.”

“No matter. For your trouble,” Fitz passed Graham five silvers.

“No thank you, sir. I feel bad enough as it is for troubling you so. And as I said, I don’t take money for nothing.”

“You’ll take it from us. Consider it a deposit for our room next time we’re in town.”

“Yes sir.”

The Heroes turned to exit, Motega standing absolutely still by his chair.

“Are you coming, Motega?”

“You go ahead. Don’t wait for me. I will catch up.”

“Suit yourself.” Fitz and the others walked out the door.

Motega slapped another two silvers into the barkeep’s hand. “If they bother you again, just let me know.” The Rorn smiled viciously and after a few moments slipped out of the Inn.

 

[TheYeti1775]

mmm what awaits us.
Strange men asking about us with pick axes.
Wonder what that entails.
Only our heros know.