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Story Hour
Milo Windby's Collected Story Hour
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<blockquote data-quote="Milo Windby" data-source="post: 1672" data-attributes="member: 202"><p><strong>Keep of the Borderlands -part one</strong></p><p></p><p>Keep of the Borderlands -part one</p><p>-------------</p><p>Milo Windby made some new friends. He's not too sure where they all hail from, nor what brought this motley crew together. He does know that they all seem to get along in their own way and there is strength in numbers. He met Mazithra Liadon at the gate on his way into the dismal keep in northern Karameikos. The willowy elf had a battle-hard edge to her that belied her age, not easily determined at first glance among elven-kind, much less to a halfling. Milo was always the observant type though, he had no trouble noticing those small signs of age. A weary look to the eyes at an unguarded moment, a regal grace that hearkened back to days when elves were the paramount of civilization, the odd twist of the wrist that only serious sword masters seemed to display. There was something else about her too though, a mystical quality that was a little hard to define. No matter, he would discover those secrets in time, he always did. It was a skill that served him well in his home shire and then in the courts of Darokin. But that was another time, now he had purpose and goals, and every scrap of information he obtained would bring him that much closer to his objective. The two of them hit things off immediately, she seemed to think of Milo as a little brother, someone to watch after in this "big" world full of "big" people. He never did think of other's size unless it was to exploit any weaknesses that were inherent in those of large stature. He was naturally drawn to her obvious strength as a warrior and her easy attitude. "Big" people do have their advantages after all. </p><p></p><p>The next to join this ragtag party was Brigit of the Deeperdown clan. Pity to the hapless soul that finds humor in that clan name. Brigit has settled many a dispute in and out of the tavern over her name, or her beard, or her table manners, or the perceived color of the sky. In fact that's how Milo and Mazi met her, she had just finished mopping up a "debate" on the origins of her clan name right outside the tavern. They were so impressed with her skills at getting her point across that they offered to buy a nice pint of dwarven ale and sit down to discuss some of the finer details in the world of street politics. "Aye, never one to pass up a good pint O ale, dwarven at that! Don't know how anyone kin stand anything but, unless supposin nuthin else be onhand." Her colorful manner of speech was as delightful to hear as it was to watch her down one pint after another. </p><p></p><p>Inside the tavern they met her traveling companion, one Jeremiah Tansden. A wild looking young man that obviously hailed from the lands of the plateau. He had well-tanned skin and a giant greatsword strapped to his back. Other than his pack he didn't carry much, and he said even less. Quiet and brooding, he'd put back as much ale as Brigit could, well almost as many. Brigit invariably had him passed out under the table before the faint rays of dawn made there way into the smoky interior of the common room. She was quick to comment on his prowess in the field though. Seems she found him on her way to the keep, hacking away at some recently deceased goblin corpses. He was in a rage and had obviously quickly dispatched both goblins with one blow. Very impressive, if a little moody. If time went on too long between hacking and slashing, Jeremiah would get a little antsy. It just happened to be one of those dry periods and they all decided it was time to find out what was amiss at the Keep. </p><p></p><p>Tall tales abound in outposts on frontiers and in the wilderness. Castellan Keep was no exception. Milo and his friends heard many while nursing (or guzzling in the case of Brigit and Jeremiah) their ale in the common room of the tavern. Stories of haunted caves to the northwest, full of little beasties and the occasional undead, hungry for the brains of the living. Undead always gave Milo the creeps, he hated them with a passion. Probably due to his strict religious upbringing. Some of that still stayed with him, not quite worn off by the dust of the open road or the blisters that it granted. Still other stories told of masses of goblinoid creatures raiding the occasional caravan. Most of these could be discounted outright due to the amount of obvious exaggeration that seems to accompany all such tales. </p><p></p><p>One in particular had a ring of truth to it though. It seemed that a much loved and much respected caravan owner had recently gone missing. Victim of the goblinoids or the hungry undead no doubt. The tragic turn to the tale was the loss of his lovely wife who traveled with him. Even worse still to Milo was the thought of the vast unclaimed wealth that a caravan of that size must have carried. He was curious to say the least. Any Darokinian worth his blood would be, one of his nature even more so. He wasn't sure, but he could swear that he was slightly in tune with Brigit on that line of thought. After a few well placed questions and decidedly hard-earned copper Milo and Mazi tracked down a little more of the truth. There was indeed a caravan that was taken over recently, suspiciously near the trail that leads up to the haunted caves. The caravan leader's wife was also with him, even if the tales of her beauty were a tad overstated. </p><p></p><p>There was word also of a traveling priest, known and loved in these parts, that was willing to assist any brave souls that might venture forth to save the doomed caravan. The four of them discussed the information they found and after obtaining a map decided to pursue this story a little deeper into the wilderness. Perhaps the caravan was salvageable, the drivers, leader and wife too, he supposed. Milo, Mazi and Brigit, trailing a slightly inebriated Jeremiah behind, found there way to the traveling priest's quarters. A dour young man answered their knock, not a word uttered. The group had heard of him and his peer, two disciples of the priest. Not talkative at all and rather suspicious in their manner for their age and position. After a polite request to meet with the priest they were led into the small dwelling. A kindly middle-aged man warmly greeted them. He was fit from his travels and had a ruddy glow to his face, whether this was from a little early evening partaking of sacramental wine or just his cheery demeanor it was hard to say. His name was Bordamere and he traveled the road spreading the good word and good cheer where he could. Mazi had a hard time believing in him right from the start and conveyed this to Milo through a subtle gesture and look. Milo, unusually unobservant, blithely ignored the unspoken warning and engaged the priest in a discussion about the caravan and the possibility of rescuing any survivors or leftover goods. The priest was willing enough, even going as far as donating some holy water to the cause at Milo's request. Milo hated undead, really. Bordamere also recommended two stout mercenaries that could be found and enlisted at the tavern. One Sir Paul and one Sir Charles. (<em>'Barkley?'</em> Milo asked. <em>'No, Berkley. Why do you ask?'</em> answers Bordamere) Milo was shocked to hear of two knights of the realm selling their services for coin. That is until Bordamere displayed a particularly annoying speech pattern. Apparently everyone in his eyes was "sir" or "lady". Thus it was that Sirs Milo and Jeremiah, and Ladies Mazi and Brigit found themselves on their way back to the tavern, after arranging to meet with the priest near the gate at 6:00am the following morning. </p><p></p><p>A quick discussion later and very little persuasion it was decided Milo and Mazi would arrange matters with the hired swords while Brigit helped to keep Jeremiah entertained at the bar. It seemed Jeremiah was getting a little antsy again. A few pints of ale were preferable to a few broken jaws and a night in the stocks. A couple of the frequent guest to the tavern pointed the two towards Sir Paul and Sir Charles. The pair were slowly drifting towards the floor during a drinking game that had obviously started much earlier in the day. After introducing themselves to the wavering eyes of the mercenaries ('No, there's only one halfling, one elf') Milo dived right into the proposition. He hoped that some coherent dealing could be done before the two of them became a little too personal with the floor. </p><p></p><p><em>"We have need of aid in retrieving, er, rescuing the members of the caravan that was recently waylaid near the keep. We have it on good word that you two stout individuals would be willing to assist us for a price,"</em> Milo started.</p><p></p><p><em>"Yesh?"</em> came the soggy reply from Sir Paul.</p><p></p><p><em>"Yes, the priest Bordamere sent us your way,"</em> said Milo.</p><p></p><p><em>"Ahhhhhh! Good ole ::hic:: Bordy! Boy kin he put away ale like nobody!"</em></p><p></p><p><em>"Yes, that's the man. So, what do you say?"</em></p><p></p><p><em>"You would be outfittin ush with materialsh, eh?"</em> </p><p></p><p>Ahh! That's is what Milo was looking forward to, a good haggle! <em>"Well we assumed, you being old war veterans and all, that you would have your own sturdy arms and armor."</em></p><p></p><p>The warrior gave him a look that would curdle milk, had it not been watered down by untold pints of ale. Paul answered back, <em>"That'sh true. Ya will be provishnn-provishnn-givin ush food an the like?"</em></p><p></p><p><em>"Of course, standard procedure in this sort of arrangement I gather."</em></p><p></p><p><em>"An a share O' the booty too?"</em></p><p></p><p><em>"Ah well, a share of the booty would imply that you were partners, not hired hands. Perhaps if you'd like to come along without the fee we could come to a different arrangement?"</em> Milo warmed up to the bargaining. Just then Mazi seemed to need to speak with Milo rather urgently, <em>"Hang on a sec lads."</em> The two of them retreated a ways from the table, </p><p></p><p><em>"We don't know these two, can they even be trusted?"</em> Mazi asked.</p><p></p><p><em>"The priest recommended them, and everyone loves him around here. I don't think there will be a problem."</em> Milo responded. Mazi seemed to accept this reasoning. </p><p></p><p>They approached the table again, noticing that a new round of pints had been delivered to the soldier's table in their absence. <em>'Ah, this should make things even easier,'</em> thought Milo. <em>"So, what is your going rate for employment, boys? We'll plan on a journey of four days, two out, two back."</em></p><p></p><p><em>"Hmmm, four daysh you shay? ::hic!::"</em> Paul paused, whether to choke down some ale coming back for a visit or to consider the price it's hard to say. <em>"10 gold pieshes for the two of ush."</em></p><p></p><p><em>"Ten gold for four days! Are you mad?"</em> Milo was in his element now, these two inebriated swordsmen had no idea what was about to hit em. <em>"2 gold along with a weapon and/or piece of armor from the loot, if we find any. That doesn't include any magical items we may find."</em></p><p></p><p><em>"2 gold? Bah! We'd make more shovelin dung fer the local farmersh. Make it 8 and you have a deal"</em></p><p></p><p><em>"6 gold, no more. Imagine how much ale that can buy you." </em>Milo replied.</p><p></p><p><em>"Fine then, but we demand payment up front."</em> Again Mazi signaled Milo to step back for a little conference.</p><p></p><p><em>"I don't think we should pay these two in advance, look at them! We probably won't even see them tomorrow morning, either they'll be too drunk to show up or they'll be who knows where with our gold!" </em></p><p></p><p><em>"Good point Mazi, how about we give them half before we leave tomorrow and half when we get back?"</em></p><p></p><p><em>"Agreeable."</em> Mazi agreed.</p><p></p><p><em>"Well then gentlemen,"</em> as they once again approached the table, <em>"We'll give you half tomorrow morning when you show up for the trip and half when we get back to the keep."</em></p><p></p><p><em>"How about half now and half after inshtead?"</em></p><p></p><p>Milo gave them another look-over. 3 gold would certainly be enough to rot what was left of their livers and put them in a comatose, if not permanent rest. <em>"I think 5 silver now, 2 gold and 5 silver in the morning, then 3 gold when we get back. That way you can drink your silver tonight and still have some left over for your victory celebration when we get back."</em></p><p></p><p><em>"Fair enough little one, hand over the shilver and ya've got yershelf a deal. ::hic!::" </em></p><p></p><p><em>"It's a deal then, here's your shil-silver."</em> Milo handed them five silver. <em>"See you at six o'clock tomorrow. Near the gate. The priest will be with us as well."</em></p><p></p><p><em>"SHIX O'CLOCK!?"</em> There was that look again. Milo had to bite his lip to keep from grinning. He partook of the drink here and there, but he preferred to have his fun with those that were more liberal with the libations. It never failed to amuse him when they were delivered a little shock to the system after a good bout of drunkenness. Yes, he could see he'd have a little fun with this group after all. </p><p></p><p>Milo and Mazi made their way back to the bar. Funny, they couldn't see Jeremiah anywhere near Brigit at the bar. Upon wending there way past tables, chairs, and wandering servers they discovered Jeremiah hadn't strayed far. He was slumped against the feet of his stool, reeking of cheap ale. Ah, youth. Brigit just looked at him and giggled. <em>"Ya big boys never kin drink a dwarven lass down. Well here's to ya lad, on account of ya tryin!"</em> She tipped another pint back, from the frothy top to the very bottom of the tin stein, slamming it down onto the bar afterwards. <em>"Barkeep, another rou-"</em></p><p></p><p><em>"Actually, it may be time to call it a night Brigit,"</em> Mazi interjected, <em>"We've got a long way to walk tomorrow and it'll be a little easier without having to drag two of you halfway there."</em></p><p></p><p><em>"Ach, yer always tryin ta spoil ma fun, elfie. Ah well, Jer here couldna keep up wi' me. I spose I'm done fer tha night."</em> Brigit answered and then, <em>"Any luck wi' them boyos at the table?"</em></p><p></p><p><em>"Not a problem at all, 6 gold for four days of service and a piece of weaponry and armor from any loot we find."</em> Milo said.</p><p></p><p><em>"Weapons and armor! They'll be gettin nuthin magical from me loot, I kin tell ya that!"</em></p><p></p><p><em>"Not to worry, only mundane equipment that may still be of use."</em></p><p></p><p><em>"Aye, ya be right there little-un. Very well, let's drag Jerry here up to the room,"</em> Brigit hiccupped. </p><p></p><p>With that they heaved Jer's rather large frame up the stairs to our room. That is to say Brigit and Mazi dragged his rather large frame. Milo dragged his boots up after. Somehow the heavy leather boots had made there way to the other side of the bar during their carousing. Milo didn't want to know. </p><p></p><p>In the morning they approached the gate, seeing that the priest and his disciples were there waiting. Thank goodness those two wouldn't be coming along. Nothing like a couple of melancholy youth to bring down an entire adventure. Bordamere informed them that he was sending a couple of letters with his associates to bring to the high priest if they didn't return within a week. With that he dismissed the two and cheerily looked on at our little party. Brigit had recovered rather well from the night's festivities. She was chipper as ever, all trussed up in her shiny breastplate with her stout dwarven axe strapped to her back. I'll never cease to be amazed by the bottomless stamina of dwarves when it comes to alcohol. Even their women could drink an orc into a stupor. Not that you'd ever catch a dwarf celebrating anything with an orc. Poor Jer didn't fare so well. His eyes were bleary and he kept smacking his lips, as if trying to get rid of a bad taste in his mouth. That couldn't have anything to do with his rather hasty rush to the window that morning, could it? Mazi and Milo were composed and ready for anything. Mazi with her longsword and finely crafted elven bow, one in the scabbard at her side, the other lashed to her pack. Milo with his light crossbow stowed at his waist, almost hanging to the ground. His short sword at his side and his dagger in his belt. It was another half-hour before Sir Charles and Sir Paul made their appearance. They looked much like poor Jeremiah, pasty faced and watery eyed. </p><p><em>"<strong>WELL</strong>,"</em> Milo said, just under a parade ground shout, <em>"<strong>Shall we be on our way gentlemen and gentleladies?</strong>"</em> He grinned as Jer, Paul, and Charles all winced in unison. Yes, it was going to be a very good day. </p><p></p><p>They started out on the winding mountain path out of the keep. They made good time on the well-traveled road. Milo noticed the wheel ruts from the many caravans that came this way. After they passed the marshlands the road started to show its wear. Sir Paul mentioned the long abandoned moathouse, former seat of power in this small region. It had been overrun by the local beasties long ago, before the Keep was built. Some parts of the road were a little soggy from the swampy residue of the marsh and other parts were overgrown. Since they were on foot and had no wagon wheels to worry about, the party made it through these areas with a minimum of difficulty. As evening approached they found a large clearing up on a hill, just north of the road. Figuring the clearing to be a good place to camp they all set about finding a comfortable place to rest. Being a half-day from the caves they figured a little fire couldn't hurt either. <em>'Especially if it kept the undead at bay,'</em> thought Milo. He hated undead, really. Milo and Bordamere took the first watch, discussing the merits of ale, mead, wine, and other drinks on the road. Mazi and Paul took the next watch, discussing very little. Mazi's distaste for the mercenaries wasn't outright evident, but she made no show of being friendly towards them. Jeremiah and the equally quiet Charles took third watch with Brigit taking a lone watch during the early morning hours. Not a soul, or soulless thing, disturbed their sleep that night. This oddly set Milo on edge, rather than relaxing him. </p><p></p><p>The next morning he was ready to start into the caves and see some action. He and Jeremiah shared that feeling a little more than usual this day. The winding trail meandered north, closer to the gorge where the caves started. As they neared their goal the party noticed that the trees took on an especially gnarled appearance. Twisted and haggard, their branches pointed like the bony fingers of skeletons towards the gray sky. Milo hated the undead, really. <em>"So what say you, priest? Any feelings for this place, can you tell if anything may be close by?"</em> Milo asked.</p><p></p><p><em>"Only that things appear worse than we feared,"</em> Bordamere responded gravely. </p><p></p><p>They reached the caves after a slightly more difficult hike up the rest of the road, then more of a trail. The trail petered out into a depression, almost a small valley, dotted with cave mouths all the way to the top. Unsalvageable wreckage and skeletons littered the ground. It indeed appeared that the caravan had been taken here before the drivers and their kin were slaughtered by the evil denizens of the caves. There appeared to be 6 or more entrances, plus the brush may have hid more that. The party decided to handle the caves in a more-or-less organized manner, starting at the bottom to the East and working their way around, then up. That way they left no caves empty behind them. All of them readied their weapons as they approached the first cavern. Slowly Milo crept into the dim recess, able to see now, but he knew he'd have to break out his lantern before they got too deep. The rest of the group followed about 10 feet behind. First Jer and Brigit, then Mazi and Bordamere, followed by Paul and Charles bringing up the rear. Milo would work as a scout, using his keen powers of observation and experience with dangerous traps to rout out any danger to the party. When and if any beasties reared their ugly heads he would retreat back into the midst of the party, letting Jer and Brigit rush up to the front lines.</p><p></p><p><em>[Edited for <strong>emphasis</strong>]</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Milo Windby, post: 1672, member: 202"] [b]Keep of the Borderlands -part one[/b] Keep of the Borderlands -part one ------------- Milo Windby made some new friends. He's not too sure where they all hail from, nor what brought this motley crew together. He does know that they all seem to get along in their own way and there is strength in numbers. He met Mazithra Liadon at the gate on his way into the dismal keep in northern Karameikos. The willowy elf had a battle-hard edge to her that belied her age, not easily determined at first glance among elven-kind, much less to a halfling. Milo was always the observant type though, he had no trouble noticing those small signs of age. A weary look to the eyes at an unguarded moment, a regal grace that hearkened back to days when elves were the paramount of civilization, the odd twist of the wrist that only serious sword masters seemed to display. There was something else about her too though, a mystical quality that was a little hard to define. No matter, he would discover those secrets in time, he always did. It was a skill that served him well in his home shire and then in the courts of Darokin. But that was another time, now he had purpose and goals, and every scrap of information he obtained would bring him that much closer to his objective. The two of them hit things off immediately, she seemed to think of Milo as a little brother, someone to watch after in this "big" world full of "big" people. He never did think of other's size unless it was to exploit any weaknesses that were inherent in those of large stature. He was naturally drawn to her obvious strength as a warrior and her easy attitude. "Big" people do have their advantages after all. The next to join this ragtag party was Brigit of the Deeperdown clan. Pity to the hapless soul that finds humor in that clan name. Brigit has settled many a dispute in and out of the tavern over her name, or her beard, or her table manners, or the perceived color of the sky. In fact that's how Milo and Mazi met her, she had just finished mopping up a "debate" on the origins of her clan name right outside the tavern. They were so impressed with her skills at getting her point across that they offered to buy a nice pint of dwarven ale and sit down to discuss some of the finer details in the world of street politics. "Aye, never one to pass up a good pint O ale, dwarven at that! Don't know how anyone kin stand anything but, unless supposin nuthin else be onhand." Her colorful manner of speech was as delightful to hear as it was to watch her down one pint after another. Inside the tavern they met her traveling companion, one Jeremiah Tansden. A wild looking young man that obviously hailed from the lands of the plateau. He had well-tanned skin and a giant greatsword strapped to his back. Other than his pack he didn't carry much, and he said even less. Quiet and brooding, he'd put back as much ale as Brigit could, well almost as many. Brigit invariably had him passed out under the table before the faint rays of dawn made there way into the smoky interior of the common room. She was quick to comment on his prowess in the field though. Seems she found him on her way to the keep, hacking away at some recently deceased goblin corpses. He was in a rage and had obviously quickly dispatched both goblins with one blow. Very impressive, if a little moody. If time went on too long between hacking and slashing, Jeremiah would get a little antsy. It just happened to be one of those dry periods and they all decided it was time to find out what was amiss at the Keep. Tall tales abound in outposts on frontiers and in the wilderness. Castellan Keep was no exception. Milo and his friends heard many while nursing (or guzzling in the case of Brigit and Jeremiah) their ale in the common room of the tavern. Stories of haunted caves to the northwest, full of little beasties and the occasional undead, hungry for the brains of the living. Undead always gave Milo the creeps, he hated them with a passion. Probably due to his strict religious upbringing. Some of that still stayed with him, not quite worn off by the dust of the open road or the blisters that it granted. Still other stories told of masses of goblinoid creatures raiding the occasional caravan. Most of these could be discounted outright due to the amount of obvious exaggeration that seems to accompany all such tales. One in particular had a ring of truth to it though. It seemed that a much loved and much respected caravan owner had recently gone missing. Victim of the goblinoids or the hungry undead no doubt. The tragic turn to the tale was the loss of his lovely wife who traveled with him. Even worse still to Milo was the thought of the vast unclaimed wealth that a caravan of that size must have carried. He was curious to say the least. Any Darokinian worth his blood would be, one of his nature even more so. He wasn't sure, but he could swear that he was slightly in tune with Brigit on that line of thought. After a few well placed questions and decidedly hard-earned copper Milo and Mazi tracked down a little more of the truth. There was indeed a caravan that was taken over recently, suspiciously near the trail that leads up to the haunted caves. The caravan leader's wife was also with him, even if the tales of her beauty were a tad overstated. There was word also of a traveling priest, known and loved in these parts, that was willing to assist any brave souls that might venture forth to save the doomed caravan. The four of them discussed the information they found and after obtaining a map decided to pursue this story a little deeper into the wilderness. Perhaps the caravan was salvageable, the drivers, leader and wife too, he supposed. Milo, Mazi and Brigit, trailing a slightly inebriated Jeremiah behind, found there way to the traveling priest's quarters. A dour young man answered their knock, not a word uttered. The group had heard of him and his peer, two disciples of the priest. Not talkative at all and rather suspicious in their manner for their age and position. After a polite request to meet with the priest they were led into the small dwelling. A kindly middle-aged man warmly greeted them. He was fit from his travels and had a ruddy glow to his face, whether this was from a little early evening partaking of sacramental wine or just his cheery demeanor it was hard to say. His name was Bordamere and he traveled the road spreading the good word and good cheer where he could. Mazi had a hard time believing in him right from the start and conveyed this to Milo through a subtle gesture and look. Milo, unusually unobservant, blithely ignored the unspoken warning and engaged the priest in a discussion about the caravan and the possibility of rescuing any survivors or leftover goods. The priest was willing enough, even going as far as donating some holy water to the cause at Milo's request. Milo hated undead, really. Bordamere also recommended two stout mercenaries that could be found and enlisted at the tavern. One Sir Paul and one Sir Charles. ([I]'Barkley?'[/I] Milo asked. [I]'No, Berkley. Why do you ask?'[/I] answers Bordamere) Milo was shocked to hear of two knights of the realm selling their services for coin. That is until Bordamere displayed a particularly annoying speech pattern. Apparently everyone in his eyes was "sir" or "lady". Thus it was that Sirs Milo and Jeremiah, and Ladies Mazi and Brigit found themselves on their way back to the tavern, after arranging to meet with the priest near the gate at 6:00am the following morning. A quick discussion later and very little persuasion it was decided Milo and Mazi would arrange matters with the hired swords while Brigit helped to keep Jeremiah entertained at the bar. It seemed Jeremiah was getting a little antsy again. A few pints of ale were preferable to a few broken jaws and a night in the stocks. A couple of the frequent guest to the tavern pointed the two towards Sir Paul and Sir Charles. The pair were slowly drifting towards the floor during a drinking game that had obviously started much earlier in the day. After introducing themselves to the wavering eyes of the mercenaries ('No, there's only one halfling, one elf') Milo dived right into the proposition. He hoped that some coherent dealing could be done before the two of them became a little too personal with the floor. [I]"We have need of aid in retrieving, er, rescuing the members of the caravan that was recently waylaid near the keep. We have it on good word that you two stout individuals would be willing to assist us for a price,"[/I] Milo started. [I]"Yesh?"[/I] came the soggy reply from Sir Paul. [I]"Yes, the priest Bordamere sent us your way,"[/I] said Milo. [I]"Ahhhhhh! Good ole ::hic:: Bordy! Boy kin he put away ale like nobody!"[/I] [I]"Yes, that's the man. So, what do you say?"[/I] [I]"You would be outfittin ush with materialsh, eh?"[/I] Ahh! That's is what Milo was looking forward to, a good haggle! [I]"Well we assumed, you being old war veterans and all, that you would have your own sturdy arms and armor."[/I] The warrior gave him a look that would curdle milk, had it not been watered down by untold pints of ale. Paul answered back, [I]"That'sh true. Ya will be provishnn-provishnn-givin ush food an the like?"[/I] [I]"Of course, standard procedure in this sort of arrangement I gather."[/I] [I]"An a share O' the booty too?"[/I] [I]"Ah well, a share of the booty would imply that you were partners, not hired hands. Perhaps if you'd like to come along without the fee we could come to a different arrangement?"[/I] Milo warmed up to the bargaining. Just then Mazi seemed to need to speak with Milo rather urgently, [I]"Hang on a sec lads."[/I] The two of them retreated a ways from the table, [I]"We don't know these two, can they even be trusted?"[/I] Mazi asked. [I]"The priest recommended them, and everyone loves him around here. I don't think there will be a problem."[/I] Milo responded. Mazi seemed to accept this reasoning. They approached the table again, noticing that a new round of pints had been delivered to the soldier's table in their absence. [I]'Ah, this should make things even easier,'[/I] thought Milo. [I]"So, what is your going rate for employment, boys? We'll plan on a journey of four days, two out, two back."[/I] [I]"Hmmm, four daysh you shay? ::hic!::"[/I] Paul paused, whether to choke down some ale coming back for a visit or to consider the price it's hard to say. [I]"10 gold pieshes for the two of ush."[/I] [I]"Ten gold for four days! Are you mad?"[/I] Milo was in his element now, these two inebriated swordsmen had no idea what was about to hit em. [I]"2 gold along with a weapon and/or piece of armor from the loot, if we find any. That doesn't include any magical items we may find."[/I] [I]"2 gold? Bah! We'd make more shovelin dung fer the local farmersh. Make it 8 and you have a deal"[/I] [I]"6 gold, no more. Imagine how much ale that can buy you." [/I]Milo replied. [I]"Fine then, but we demand payment up front."[/I] Again Mazi signaled Milo to step back for a little conference. [I]"I don't think we should pay these two in advance, look at them! We probably won't even see them tomorrow morning, either they'll be too drunk to show up or they'll be who knows where with our gold!" [/I] [I]"Good point Mazi, how about we give them half before we leave tomorrow and half when we get back?"[/I] [I]"Agreeable."[/I] Mazi agreed. [I]"Well then gentlemen,"[/I] as they once again approached the table, [I]"We'll give you half tomorrow morning when you show up for the trip and half when we get back to the keep."[/I] [I]"How about half now and half after inshtead?"[/I] Milo gave them another look-over. 3 gold would certainly be enough to rot what was left of their livers and put them in a comatose, if not permanent rest. [I]"I think 5 silver now, 2 gold and 5 silver in the morning, then 3 gold when we get back. That way you can drink your silver tonight and still have some left over for your victory celebration when we get back."[/I] [I]"Fair enough little one, hand over the shilver and ya've got yershelf a deal. ::hic!::" [/I] [I]"It's a deal then, here's your shil-silver."[/I] Milo handed them five silver. [I]"See you at six o'clock tomorrow. Near the gate. The priest will be with us as well."[/I] [I]"SHIX O'CLOCK!?"[/I] There was that look again. Milo had to bite his lip to keep from grinning. He partook of the drink here and there, but he preferred to have his fun with those that were more liberal with the libations. It never failed to amuse him when they were delivered a little shock to the system after a good bout of drunkenness. Yes, he could see he'd have a little fun with this group after all. Milo and Mazi made their way back to the bar. Funny, they couldn't see Jeremiah anywhere near Brigit at the bar. Upon wending there way past tables, chairs, and wandering servers they discovered Jeremiah hadn't strayed far. He was slumped against the feet of his stool, reeking of cheap ale. Ah, youth. Brigit just looked at him and giggled. [I]"Ya big boys never kin drink a dwarven lass down. Well here's to ya lad, on account of ya tryin!"[/I] She tipped another pint back, from the frothy top to the very bottom of the tin stein, slamming it down onto the bar afterwards. [I]"Barkeep, another rou-"[/I] [I]"Actually, it may be time to call it a night Brigit,"[/I] Mazi interjected, [I]"We've got a long way to walk tomorrow and it'll be a little easier without having to drag two of you halfway there."[/I] [I]"Ach, yer always tryin ta spoil ma fun, elfie. Ah well, Jer here couldna keep up wi' me. I spose I'm done fer tha night."[/I] Brigit answered and then, [I]"Any luck wi' them boyos at the table?"[/I] [I]"Not a problem at all, 6 gold for four days of service and a piece of weaponry and armor from any loot we find."[/I] Milo said. [I]"Weapons and armor! They'll be gettin nuthin magical from me loot, I kin tell ya that!"[/I] [I]"Not to worry, only mundane equipment that may still be of use."[/I] [I]"Aye, ya be right there little-un. Very well, let's drag Jerry here up to the room,"[/I] Brigit hiccupped. With that they heaved Jer's rather large frame up the stairs to our room. That is to say Brigit and Mazi dragged his rather large frame. Milo dragged his boots up after. Somehow the heavy leather boots had made there way to the other side of the bar during their carousing. Milo didn't want to know. In the morning they approached the gate, seeing that the priest and his disciples were there waiting. Thank goodness those two wouldn't be coming along. Nothing like a couple of melancholy youth to bring down an entire adventure. Bordamere informed them that he was sending a couple of letters with his associates to bring to the high priest if they didn't return within a week. With that he dismissed the two and cheerily looked on at our little party. Brigit had recovered rather well from the night's festivities. She was chipper as ever, all trussed up in her shiny breastplate with her stout dwarven axe strapped to her back. I'll never cease to be amazed by the bottomless stamina of dwarves when it comes to alcohol. Even their women could drink an orc into a stupor. Not that you'd ever catch a dwarf celebrating anything with an orc. Poor Jer didn't fare so well. His eyes were bleary and he kept smacking his lips, as if trying to get rid of a bad taste in his mouth. That couldn't have anything to do with his rather hasty rush to the window that morning, could it? Mazi and Milo were composed and ready for anything. Mazi with her longsword and finely crafted elven bow, one in the scabbard at her side, the other lashed to her pack. Milo with his light crossbow stowed at his waist, almost hanging to the ground. His short sword at his side and his dagger in his belt. It was another half-hour before Sir Charles and Sir Paul made their appearance. They looked much like poor Jeremiah, pasty faced and watery eyed. [I]"[B]WELL[/B],"[/I] Milo said, just under a parade ground shout, [I]"[B]Shall we be on our way gentlemen and gentleladies?[/B]"[/I] He grinned as Jer, Paul, and Charles all winced in unison. Yes, it was going to be a very good day. They started out on the winding mountain path out of the keep. They made good time on the well-traveled road. Milo noticed the wheel ruts from the many caravans that came this way. After they passed the marshlands the road started to show its wear. Sir Paul mentioned the long abandoned moathouse, former seat of power in this small region. It had been overrun by the local beasties long ago, before the Keep was built. Some parts of the road were a little soggy from the swampy residue of the marsh and other parts were overgrown. Since they were on foot and had no wagon wheels to worry about, the party made it through these areas with a minimum of difficulty. As evening approached they found a large clearing up on a hill, just north of the road. Figuring the clearing to be a good place to camp they all set about finding a comfortable place to rest. Being a half-day from the caves they figured a little fire couldn't hurt either. [I]'Especially if it kept the undead at bay,'[/I] thought Milo. He hated undead, really. Milo and Bordamere took the first watch, discussing the merits of ale, mead, wine, and other drinks on the road. Mazi and Paul took the next watch, discussing very little. Mazi's distaste for the mercenaries wasn't outright evident, but she made no show of being friendly towards them. Jeremiah and the equally quiet Charles took third watch with Brigit taking a lone watch during the early morning hours. Not a soul, or soulless thing, disturbed their sleep that night. This oddly set Milo on edge, rather than relaxing him. The next morning he was ready to start into the caves and see some action. He and Jeremiah shared that feeling a little more than usual this day. The winding trail meandered north, closer to the gorge where the caves started. As they neared their goal the party noticed that the trees took on an especially gnarled appearance. Twisted and haggard, their branches pointed like the bony fingers of skeletons towards the gray sky. Milo hated the undead, really. [I]"So what say you, priest? Any feelings for this place, can you tell if anything may be close by?"[/I] Milo asked. [I]"Only that things appear worse than we feared,"[/I] Bordamere responded gravely. They reached the caves after a slightly more difficult hike up the rest of the road, then more of a trail. The trail petered out into a depression, almost a small valley, dotted with cave mouths all the way to the top. Unsalvageable wreckage and skeletons littered the ground. It indeed appeared that the caravan had been taken here before the drivers and their kin were slaughtered by the evil denizens of the caves. There appeared to be 6 or more entrances, plus the brush may have hid more that. The party decided to handle the caves in a more-or-less organized manner, starting at the bottom to the East and working their way around, then up. That way they left no caves empty behind them. All of them readied their weapons as they approached the first cavern. Slowly Milo crept into the dim recess, able to see now, but he knew he'd have to break out his lantern before they got too deep. The rest of the group followed about 10 feet behind. First Jer and Brigit, then Mazi and Bordamere, followed by Paul and Charles bringing up the rear. Milo would work as a scout, using his keen powers of observation and experience with dangerous traps to rout out any danger to the party. When and if any beasties reared their ugly heads he would retreat back into the midst of the party, letting Jer and Brigit rush up to the front lines. [I][Edited for [B]emphasis[/B]][/I] [/QUOTE]
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Milo Windby's Collected Story Hour
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