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Story Hour
"Second Son of a Second Son" - An Aquerra Story Hour (*finally* Updated 04/19)
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<blockquote data-quote="el-remmen" data-source="post: 3389016" data-attributes="member: 11"><p><strong>Session #2 – “The Road South” (part 2 of 3)</strong></p><p></p><p>The <a href="http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Sluetelot+Canal" target="_blank">Slutelot Canal</a> was first made by the people of the <a href="http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Sunra+Kingdom" target="_blank">Sunra Kingdom</a> during the <a href="http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Third+Age" target="_blank">Third Age</a>, in an era called “<a href="http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Time+of+the+Six+Kingdoms" target="_blank">the Time of the Six Kingdoms</a>”. Records of how they were able to accomplish such a feat of engineering are incomplete, but in 239 H.E. construction began to re-create it, and now it runs nearly forty miles, connecting the Captured Sea with Drie-Hoek Bay, to bring the goods of inner Thricia to the outer islands and the world. Old Town Bridge is approached from the north by a winding ramp that climbs to a height sufficient to cross the canal, and at its center, thick hinged metal plates could be drawn open by oxen, allowing very tall-masted ships to pass through. </p><p></p><p>Bleys, Laarus, Markos, Telémahkos, Timotheus and Victoria rode their horses over the bridge. They were waved past lines of peasants with hay filled carts waiting to get into the town, and laden merchant wagons waiting to get out of town by the bridge guard. Nobles and esteemed priests would not be made to wait or pay the toll. A light rain began.</p><p></p><p>The other side of the bridge had a similar winding stone ramp that led to the narrow shore of the canal, just north of South Wall. ‘South Wall’ was actually two walls, and they were made to walk their horses through one gate and then nearly half a mile to the west before emerging from the gate in the southernmost of the two walls.</p><p></p><p>On their right, between them and the distant emerald sheen of the Captured Sea were rolling farmlands as far as distant dirty-looking hills that caressed the southeastern edge of the sea. As they rode southward, the land on their left gave way to tall beach grasses and the sound of the bay lapping against the island’s eastern shore welcomed them. At mid-morning a sandy track diverted to the left and the followed it noting a hand painted wooden sign declaring it the Beach Road. Soon they were following a trail within sight of the bay. It wound around tall basalt outcroppings in many places, or else was washed away in a spray of sand and surf. Sudden gusts of wind sent fat raindrops clattering violently against the pea green sea.</p><p></p><p>Laarus and Timotheus led the way, with Victoria and Bleys taking the rear; the latter bringing the packhorse along as well. Telémahkos and Markos took up the middle rank.</p><p></p><p>As they approached mid-day, the rain let up and they saw a group of fishermen repairing a net near the surf. Telémahkos rode ahead to talk with them, Timotheus riding up behind him.</p><p></p><p>“Hail and well met!” Telémahkos called to them. </p><p></p><p>“Hail good sirs! Taking the Beach Road are ya? Brave men… Brave men…” The old fisherman chuckled. He was missing a good number of teeth, and only had patchy steel gray hair on his wrinkled head. The others were younger and fitter, wearing tall leather boots and kilts.</p><p></p><p>“Yes, we heard there were dangers on the road,” Telémahkos replied. “But you are here and working unharassed…”</p><p></p><p>“We’re still within a day’s ride of the Old Town, as you well know,” the old fisherman said. “But after a day… Well, it does get a bit rougher…”</p><p></p><p>“In what way?” Telémahkos asked.</p><p></p><p>“What kinds of dangers might we expect?” Timotheus asked. Bleys rode up as well.</p><p></p><p>“Ya know, the usual… Greenbacks… Ya know, Lizzies, right? And the froggies sometimes…”</p><p></p><p>“Greenbacks? You are referring to <a href="http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Lizardfolk" target="_blank">lizardfolk</a>?” Bleys said. (1)</p><p></p><p>“Aye,” the man spat.</p><p></p><p>“And the froggies?” Timotheus asked.</p><p></p><p>“The ‘wugs, sir,” the man replied. “And of course, damn Weirspierogener brigands! Pfah!”</p><p></p><p>Telémahkos looked to Timotheus.</p><p></p><p>“They hide in the bogs on the far side of the track and leap out atch’ya,” the fisherman went on to explain.</p><p></p><p>“And the lizardfolk attack travelers as well?” Bleys asked.</p><p></p><p>“Ach! Who knows? Half the time they want to eat ya, that other half they wanna trade ya a bone necklace!” The fishermen all laughed.</p><p></p><p>“Wanna buy some fish? Only three coppers,” asked one of the younger men, holding up a line of seven fish, each about seven inches long. Telémahkos nodded.</p><p></p><p>The Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland ate the lunch provided by Barton Digits in shade of a tall bluff. As they mounted to ride on, they noted large wagons up on what must have been the High Road. But as evening fell, the High Road was far from sight again, and they made camp in a wedge of black stone, which helped to hide the fire from the road and the distant bluff. They cooked the fish on the fire, and then split into watches. </p><p></p><p>Markos and Bleys took first watch, and the watch-mage showed the sailor how to brush down and care for his horse. Wise use of <em>prestidigitation</em> made the cleaning portion much easier, and Markos ended up taking care of everyone else’s horses.</p><p></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 18px">Telem, the 13th of Sek – 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)</span></p><p></p><p>A day and half later, the companions broke their second camp. This one was in spot set back from the breach, where a narrow stream of fresh water trickled into the sea.</p><p></p><p>“We saw some boat traveling north in the night,” Bleys told the others. “It was small galley of some kind, and set with torches on its sides.”</p><p></p><p>“I think it was a ferry going to Sluetelot,” Markos reasoned. The others shrugged, and the journey southward continued.</p><p></p><p>At mid-morning Victoria spotted a great plume of dust, as some group of riders passed the up on the bluff, which the Beach Road had veered inland and close to once again. The bluff itself was becoming less and less of a sheer cliff, and descended slowly and unevenly towards the beach to the south. She mentioned it to the others, but no one seemed to care much.</p><p></p><p>It was a couple of hours later when another cloud of roiling dust appeared up on what was left of the bluff. Now the way up was not nearly as steep and tall beach grass shored up the slope. They could see a handful of riders coming down in their direction.</p><p></p><p>“Stay alert! Riders!” Timotheus called to the others.</p><p></p><p>“Look at the standard! Yellow and black, the colors of House Swann,” Telémahkos said.</p><p></p><p>“Just because they appear to be of House Swann does not mean they are,” Bleys warned. </p><p></p><p>“I shall greet them,” Victoria Ostrander spurred her light warhorse forward, past the others and soon was many yards ahead. </p><p></p><p>“Victoria! Wait! No!” Timotheus called, but the eager Militant of Anhur was already galloping away. He increased his own pace, and Bleys moved up between Markos and Telémahkos, who fanned out.</p><p></p><p>Victoria could see the lead rider was a man of slender build; he wore a chain shirt with a yellow and black tabard over it. He was guiding his horse down the treacherous slope with the lightest touch of his reins, as he had a short bow resting on the saddle pommel before him, an arrow bouncing up and down with the horse’s gait, but no doubt a half-moment from where it was to string and then to air.</p><p></p><p>There were six other riders, five of which were in studded leather, with dirty but young-looking faces. They wore similar tabards, all with a quartered field, the black swan of House Swann in the top left, and a gull hovering over a stylized curling wave in the bottom right.</p><p></p><p>“Hail! Who travels the Beach Road?” called the lead rider, slowing his pace. Victoria could not see his slender features that betrayed the elven heritage of some near ancestor.</p><p></p><p>“I am Victoria Ostrander, Militant of Anhur, and these are my companions!” she announced.</p><p></p><p>“Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland!” Timotheus added as he finally caught up. The others slowed way down, as the armored riders fanned out. They saw the rider closest the half-elf was a grizzled middle-aged main a suit of chain mail. He bore the standard.</p><p></p><p>“I am Lieutenant <a href="http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Lorkas+Twelf" target="_blank">Lorkas Twelf</a>, we hail out of Gullmoor, a keep of House Swann, in search of brigands who have been causing trouble in the vicinity of Bog End, which is where we most recently ride from,” the half-elf said.</p><p></p><p>“I am Timotheus Smith of House Briareus, as is my cousin, Telémahkos,” the tall blond smiled and gestured to Telie, who waved. Laarus and Bleys rode forward, but Markos hung back with Telie. </p><p></p><p>The others introduced themselves as well.</p><p></p><p>“We have seen no sign of brigands,” Timotheus said. “Did you chase them from nearby?”</p><p></p><p>“We have not seen them,” Lorkas said. “We were told of their presence and sought them out. We think they have a hideout nearby on the beach somewhere, but we are not sure where… Though we did track them on the High Road…”</p><p></p><p>“Is that the High Road right there?” Victoria asked.</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” the half-elf nodded. “You are close to where the two roads converge again, in the hamlet of Bog End.</p><p></p><p>“We are traveling to New Harbinger,” Timotheus said. “Is there some way we might help you, or some news we might carry?”</p><p></p><p>Lieutenant Lorkas hesitated, and then looked to the older-looking man in chainmail before answering. “Well, we were being led in our hunt by Sir Quintus Gosprey, when he left us to pursue some contact he felt would have information regarding the location of the brigands’ hideout… He was supposed to have caught up with us by now, but there has been no sign of him either. He returned to somewhere near Bog End, perhaps if you pass through there you might ask of him, or if you see him, send him our way…”</p><p></p><p>“Of course!” Timotheus said.</p><p></p><p>They all nodded to each other and bid their farewells, and then the two groups went their own ways.</p><p></p><p>“You should not have charged ahead like that,” Timotheus admonished the militant.</p><p></p><p>“And why not? I was not so far ahead that you all could not have caught up with me,” she sneered. “And if need be, I could have swung Argos around closed our distance in an instant.”</p><p></p><p>Timotheus just sighed and took his spot back at the front of their line.</p><p></p><p>As the afternoon dwindled towards evening, the track that was the Beach Road, turned southwestward, and the companions found themselves climbing a shrub-covered hill as the sun melted orange into the Captured Sea. The shadows were long as they passed several houses of mud and straw among some poorly constructed wooden structures. The land sunk again, and the steep way wound out slowly in a barren patch of rocks and mud, and finally merged with the hard flat stone of the High Road, coming through the tiny village from the north, continuing south by southeast.</p><p></p><p>Just beyond where the two paths converged was a dark bog that went as far as the eye could see, and built upon a dock hanging over the fetid water was a public house.</p><p></p><p>“This must be Bog End,” Timotheus said.</p><p></p><p>“Let us hurry and find out how much further to New Harbinger,” Bleys said, riding forward. “If it is not much further I would not be averse to riding on a bit into the gloom to arrive today…” The watch-mage’s words trailed off as he noticed a hut door clatter shut as they rode by. He made note of which it was.</p><p></p><p>They could hear high spirits and angry voices from within public house. A dirty yellow sign hung from a post, showing a poorly drawn neck of some waterfowl being twisted in a cartoonish fist.</p><p></p><p>“Welcome to the Wringneck!” Timotheus laughed, as he and the others tied their horses to the post out front. There was already a light warhorse tied here. It was saddled and its legs and lower body were splattered with greenish mud.</p><p></p><p>“Don’t bother going in there,” Bleys said. “It’ll only be trouble… I will be right back.” The purple and crimson-garbed mage hurried back up the path to the door he had seen shut before.</p><p></p><p>Bleys looked back to see his companions gathering round the entrance to the pub and shook his head. He knocked softly on the door to the hut, and there was no answer, but certain he heard someone within, he knocked again.</p><p></p><p>“Who’s there?!” came the frightened voice of an old woman.</p><p></p><p>“I am Bleys the Aubergine, watch-mage,” Bleys called through the door. “My companions and I are bound for New Harbinger and wanted to know how much further it was…”</p><p></p><p>“Oh! Uh… Three or four hours south, I guess…” the woman called back.</p><p></p><p>Bleys thanked her and began to walk back to the pub, noting that at least some of his companions had gone in.</p><p></p><p>“Come on! Show us yer cunny then!” The pub exploded with laughter. Timotheus stood in the doorway, with Victoria on one side of him and Telémahkos on the other. The stench of stale sweat and beer permeated everything within. There were many small round tables and a handful of long benches, and at the far end of the one room, was a makeshift bar made from tall wooden tables, with several large casks behind it.</p><p></p><p>The clientele were common men of a range of ages from their teens to their toothless venerability, but most dirty-faced middle-aged workmen in overalls and damp boots; a few wore straw hats. There were a handful of trollops in the common room as well, hanging with loose bodices on drunken men deep in their cups, or giving a flash of a breast or a squeeze of a buttock for a spare copper as they poured drinks.</p><p></p><p>Timotheus was regarded by a broad young man with bush of wild orange hair standing by the door with his hands folded across his great chest. </p><p></p><p>At the center of the pub was a circle of five men laughing at a boy of about fourteen summers who was getting up off the ground. He had long chestnut hair in the Thrician style, and wore a chainshirt and a muddied tabard displaying the wave and gull of the Gospreys of House Swann.</p><p></p><p>“What common and ignoble men you are!” he complained in a voice that was supposed to be haughty, but was reed-thin.</p><p></p><p>“Shut up and sit back down!” said the largest of the drunken commoners about him, and he pushed the boy down with a boot to the ass. “Ya come crying to us and then you insult us?”</p><p></p><p>“You know, Bleys has the right of it,” Telémahkos said to his cousin. “We should just ask someone in a hut.”</p><p></p><p>Timotheus stepped into the tavern, and Victoria followed. Telémahkos looked around before taking a meek step in. Laarus kept an eye out for Bleys, while Markos stood in the shadow of the doorway, taking in the situation.</p><p></p><p>“Good sir!” The boy sprang to his feet, and tried to reach Timotheus, but another kick and a smack on the back of the neck, and he was on the floor again. The five men burst out in laughter, and there were grumbles and jeers from the rest of the crowd as well. The boy looked up at Timotheus. “You seem like men of some birth, will you not make them pay for failing to help a knight against the lizardfolk?”</p><p></p><p>“I got your lizardfolk right here!” One of the commoners made a lewd gesture and then bent over to grab the boy by the ankle and drag him back. A patron at an adjacent table emptied the dregs of his mug on the boy’s head as he passed. This drew more laughter from those that could see.</p><p></p><p>“You do not look like a knight…” Timotheus had to keep from laughing, looking at each of the men with narrow glare. “Tell us what is going on!”</p><p></p><p>“Unhand the boy at once!” Victoria barked, her voice as harsh as a schoolmarm’s. </p><p></p><p>“No need for violence!” There came a high-pitched voice from the front of the pub. Atop the makeshift bar stood a small and pudgy figure. It was a halfling in a soiled apron, with black curly locks and a set of impressive jowls. He wore black boots.</p><p></p><p>Timotheus looked to the young bouncer. “This is gonna get ugly if you don’t call your boys off.” </p><p></p><p>The bouncer just shrugged and shook his head, “Just don’t you dare think about weapons.” He cracked his knuckles and stared down Timotheus, being two full inches taller than the Schiereilander. Tim nodded and smiled and then charged into the group of men, seeking to drive them apart with his sheer size, but he tripped up over the first commoner, who jerked out of the way with the awkward grace only a drunk can have. Timotheus slid headfirst along the floor to an explosion of laughter from all the patrons. He scrambled to his feet.</p><p></p><p>“We are agents of the Crown! Desist at once!” Telémahkos called out in the most authoritative voice he could muster, but was met with more derisive laughter.</p><p></p><p><em>to be continued. . .</em></p><p></p><p>-----------------------------------------</p><p><strong>Notes:</strong></p><p></p><p>(1) “Greenback” and “Lizzies” are disparaging names for lizardfolk.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="el-remmen, post: 3389016, member: 11"] [b]Session #2 – “The Road South” (part 2 of 3)[/b] The [url= http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Sluetelot+Canal]Slutelot Canal[/url] was first made by the people of the [url= http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Sunra+Kingdom]Sunra Kingdom[/url] during the [url= http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Third+Age]Third Age[/url], in an era called “[url= http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Time+of+the+Six+Kingdoms]the Time of the Six Kingdoms[/url]”. Records of how they were able to accomplish such a feat of engineering are incomplete, but in 239 H.E. construction began to re-create it, and now it runs nearly forty miles, connecting the Captured Sea with Drie-Hoek Bay, to bring the goods of inner Thricia to the outer islands and the world. Old Town Bridge is approached from the north by a winding ramp that climbs to a height sufficient to cross the canal, and at its center, thick hinged metal plates could be drawn open by oxen, allowing very tall-masted ships to pass through. Bleys, Laarus, Markos, Telémahkos, Timotheus and Victoria rode their horses over the bridge. They were waved past lines of peasants with hay filled carts waiting to get into the town, and laden merchant wagons waiting to get out of town by the bridge guard. Nobles and esteemed priests would not be made to wait or pay the toll. A light rain began. The other side of the bridge had a similar winding stone ramp that led to the narrow shore of the canal, just north of South Wall. ‘South Wall’ was actually two walls, and they were made to walk their horses through one gate and then nearly half a mile to the west before emerging from the gate in the southernmost of the two walls. On their right, between them and the distant emerald sheen of the Captured Sea were rolling farmlands as far as distant dirty-looking hills that caressed the southeastern edge of the sea. As they rode southward, the land on their left gave way to tall beach grasses and the sound of the bay lapping against the island’s eastern shore welcomed them. At mid-morning a sandy track diverted to the left and the followed it noting a hand painted wooden sign declaring it the Beach Road. Soon they were following a trail within sight of the bay. It wound around tall basalt outcroppings in many places, or else was washed away in a spray of sand and surf. Sudden gusts of wind sent fat raindrops clattering violently against the pea green sea. Laarus and Timotheus led the way, with Victoria and Bleys taking the rear; the latter bringing the packhorse along as well. Telémahkos and Markos took up the middle rank. As they approached mid-day, the rain let up and they saw a group of fishermen repairing a net near the surf. Telémahkos rode ahead to talk with them, Timotheus riding up behind him. “Hail and well met!” Telémahkos called to them. “Hail good sirs! Taking the Beach Road are ya? Brave men… Brave men…” The old fisherman chuckled. He was missing a good number of teeth, and only had patchy steel gray hair on his wrinkled head. The others were younger and fitter, wearing tall leather boots and kilts. “Yes, we heard there were dangers on the road,” Telémahkos replied. “But you are here and working unharassed…” “We’re still within a day’s ride of the Old Town, as you well know,” the old fisherman said. “But after a day… Well, it does get a bit rougher…” “In what way?” Telémahkos asked. “What kinds of dangers might we expect?” Timotheus asked. Bleys rode up as well. “Ya know, the usual… Greenbacks… Ya know, Lizzies, right? And the froggies sometimes…” “Greenbacks? You are referring to [url= http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Lizardfolk]lizardfolk[/url]?” Bleys said. (1) “Aye,” the man spat. “And the froggies?” Timotheus asked. “The ‘wugs, sir,” the man replied. “And of course, damn Weirspierogener brigands! Pfah!” Telémahkos looked to Timotheus. “They hide in the bogs on the far side of the track and leap out atch’ya,” the fisherman went on to explain. “And the lizardfolk attack travelers as well?” Bleys asked. “Ach! Who knows? Half the time they want to eat ya, that other half they wanna trade ya a bone necklace!” The fishermen all laughed. “Wanna buy some fish? Only three coppers,” asked one of the younger men, holding up a line of seven fish, each about seven inches long. Telémahkos nodded. The Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland ate the lunch provided by Barton Digits in shade of a tall bluff. As they mounted to ride on, they noted large wagons up on what must have been the High Road. But as evening fell, the High Road was far from sight again, and they made camp in a wedge of black stone, which helped to hide the fire from the road and the distant bluff. They cooked the fish on the fire, and then split into watches. Markos and Bleys took first watch, and the watch-mage showed the sailor how to brush down and care for his horse. Wise use of [I]prestidigitation[/I] made the cleaning portion much easier, and Markos ended up taking care of everyone else’s horses. [size=5]Telem, the 13th of Sek – 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)[/size] A day and half later, the companions broke their second camp. This one was in spot set back from the breach, where a narrow stream of fresh water trickled into the sea. “We saw some boat traveling north in the night,” Bleys told the others. “It was small galley of some kind, and set with torches on its sides.” “I think it was a ferry going to Sluetelot,” Markos reasoned. The others shrugged, and the journey southward continued. At mid-morning Victoria spotted a great plume of dust, as some group of riders passed the up on the bluff, which the Beach Road had veered inland and close to once again. The bluff itself was becoming less and less of a sheer cliff, and descended slowly and unevenly towards the beach to the south. She mentioned it to the others, but no one seemed to care much. It was a couple of hours later when another cloud of roiling dust appeared up on what was left of the bluff. Now the way up was not nearly as steep and tall beach grass shored up the slope. They could see a handful of riders coming down in their direction. “Stay alert! Riders!” Timotheus called to the others. “Look at the standard! Yellow and black, the colors of House Swann,” Telémahkos said. “Just because they appear to be of House Swann does not mean they are,” Bleys warned. “I shall greet them,” Victoria Ostrander spurred her light warhorse forward, past the others and soon was many yards ahead. “Victoria! Wait! No!” Timotheus called, but the eager Militant of Anhur was already galloping away. He increased his own pace, and Bleys moved up between Markos and Telémahkos, who fanned out. Victoria could see the lead rider was a man of slender build; he wore a chain shirt with a yellow and black tabard over it. He was guiding his horse down the treacherous slope with the lightest touch of his reins, as he had a short bow resting on the saddle pommel before him, an arrow bouncing up and down with the horse’s gait, but no doubt a half-moment from where it was to string and then to air. There were six other riders, five of which were in studded leather, with dirty but young-looking faces. They wore similar tabards, all with a quartered field, the black swan of House Swann in the top left, and a gull hovering over a stylized curling wave in the bottom right. “Hail! Who travels the Beach Road?” called the lead rider, slowing his pace. Victoria could not see his slender features that betrayed the elven heritage of some near ancestor. “I am Victoria Ostrander, Militant of Anhur, and these are my companions!” she announced. “Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland!” Timotheus added as he finally caught up. The others slowed way down, as the armored riders fanned out. They saw the rider closest the half-elf was a grizzled middle-aged main a suit of chain mail. He bore the standard. “I am Lieutenant [url= http://aquerra.wikispaces.com/Lorkas+Twelf]Lorkas Twelf[/url], we hail out of Gullmoor, a keep of House Swann, in search of brigands who have been causing trouble in the vicinity of Bog End, which is where we most recently ride from,” the half-elf said. “I am Timotheus Smith of House Briareus, as is my cousin, Telémahkos,” the tall blond smiled and gestured to Telie, who waved. Laarus and Bleys rode forward, but Markos hung back with Telie. The others introduced themselves as well. “We have seen no sign of brigands,” Timotheus said. “Did you chase them from nearby?” “We have not seen them,” Lorkas said. “We were told of their presence and sought them out. We think they have a hideout nearby on the beach somewhere, but we are not sure where… Though we did track them on the High Road…” “Is that the High Road right there?” Victoria asked. “Yes,” the half-elf nodded. “You are close to where the two roads converge again, in the hamlet of Bog End. “We are traveling to New Harbinger,” Timotheus said. “Is there some way we might help you, or some news we might carry?” Lieutenant Lorkas hesitated, and then looked to the older-looking man in chainmail before answering. “Well, we were being led in our hunt by Sir Quintus Gosprey, when he left us to pursue some contact he felt would have information regarding the location of the brigands’ hideout… He was supposed to have caught up with us by now, but there has been no sign of him either. He returned to somewhere near Bog End, perhaps if you pass through there you might ask of him, or if you see him, send him our way…” “Of course!” Timotheus said. They all nodded to each other and bid their farewells, and then the two groups went their own ways. “You should not have charged ahead like that,” Timotheus admonished the militant. “And why not? I was not so far ahead that you all could not have caught up with me,” she sneered. “And if need be, I could have swung Argos around closed our distance in an instant.” Timotheus just sighed and took his spot back at the front of their line. As the afternoon dwindled towards evening, the track that was the Beach Road, turned southwestward, and the companions found themselves climbing a shrub-covered hill as the sun melted orange into the Captured Sea. The shadows were long as they passed several houses of mud and straw among some poorly constructed wooden structures. The land sunk again, and the steep way wound out slowly in a barren patch of rocks and mud, and finally merged with the hard flat stone of the High Road, coming through the tiny village from the north, continuing south by southeast. Just beyond where the two paths converged was a dark bog that went as far as the eye could see, and built upon a dock hanging over the fetid water was a public house. “This must be Bog End,” Timotheus said. “Let us hurry and find out how much further to New Harbinger,” Bleys said, riding forward. “If it is not much further I would not be averse to riding on a bit into the gloom to arrive today…” The watch-mage’s words trailed off as he noticed a hut door clatter shut as they rode by. He made note of which it was. They could hear high spirits and angry voices from within public house. A dirty yellow sign hung from a post, showing a poorly drawn neck of some waterfowl being twisted in a cartoonish fist. “Welcome to the Wringneck!” Timotheus laughed, as he and the others tied their horses to the post out front. There was already a light warhorse tied here. It was saddled and its legs and lower body were splattered with greenish mud. “Don’t bother going in there,” Bleys said. “It’ll only be trouble… I will be right back.” The purple and crimson-garbed mage hurried back up the path to the door he had seen shut before. Bleys looked back to see his companions gathering round the entrance to the pub and shook his head. He knocked softly on the door to the hut, and there was no answer, but certain he heard someone within, he knocked again. “Who’s there?!” came the frightened voice of an old woman. “I am Bleys the Aubergine, watch-mage,” Bleys called through the door. “My companions and I are bound for New Harbinger and wanted to know how much further it was…” “Oh! Uh… Three or four hours south, I guess…” the woman called back. Bleys thanked her and began to walk back to the pub, noting that at least some of his companions had gone in. “Come on! Show us yer cunny then!” The pub exploded with laughter. Timotheus stood in the doorway, with Victoria on one side of him and Telémahkos on the other. The stench of stale sweat and beer permeated everything within. There were many small round tables and a handful of long benches, and at the far end of the one room, was a makeshift bar made from tall wooden tables, with several large casks behind it. The clientele were common men of a range of ages from their teens to their toothless venerability, but most dirty-faced middle-aged workmen in overalls and damp boots; a few wore straw hats. There were a handful of trollops in the common room as well, hanging with loose bodices on drunken men deep in their cups, or giving a flash of a breast or a squeeze of a buttock for a spare copper as they poured drinks. Timotheus was regarded by a broad young man with bush of wild orange hair standing by the door with his hands folded across his great chest. At the center of the pub was a circle of five men laughing at a boy of about fourteen summers who was getting up off the ground. He had long chestnut hair in the Thrician style, and wore a chainshirt and a muddied tabard displaying the wave and gull of the Gospreys of House Swann. “What common and ignoble men you are!” he complained in a voice that was supposed to be haughty, but was reed-thin. “Shut up and sit back down!” said the largest of the drunken commoners about him, and he pushed the boy down with a boot to the ass. “Ya come crying to us and then you insult us?” “You know, Bleys has the right of it,” Telémahkos said to his cousin. “We should just ask someone in a hut.” Timotheus stepped into the tavern, and Victoria followed. Telémahkos looked around before taking a meek step in. Laarus kept an eye out for Bleys, while Markos stood in the shadow of the doorway, taking in the situation. “Good sir!” The boy sprang to his feet, and tried to reach Timotheus, but another kick and a smack on the back of the neck, and he was on the floor again. The five men burst out in laughter, and there were grumbles and jeers from the rest of the crowd as well. The boy looked up at Timotheus. “You seem like men of some birth, will you not make them pay for failing to help a knight against the lizardfolk?” “I got your lizardfolk right here!” One of the commoners made a lewd gesture and then bent over to grab the boy by the ankle and drag him back. A patron at an adjacent table emptied the dregs of his mug on the boy’s head as he passed. This drew more laughter from those that could see. “You do not look like a knight…” Timotheus had to keep from laughing, looking at each of the men with narrow glare. “Tell us what is going on!” “Unhand the boy at once!” Victoria barked, her voice as harsh as a schoolmarm’s. “No need for violence!” There came a high-pitched voice from the front of the pub. Atop the makeshift bar stood a small and pudgy figure. It was a halfling in a soiled apron, with black curly locks and a set of impressive jowls. He wore black boots. Timotheus looked to the young bouncer. “This is gonna get ugly if you don’t call your boys off.” The bouncer just shrugged and shook his head, “Just don’t you dare think about weapons.” He cracked his knuckles and stared down Timotheus, being two full inches taller than the Schiereilander. Tim nodded and smiled and then charged into the group of men, seeking to drive them apart with his sheer size, but he tripped up over the first commoner, who jerked out of the way with the awkward grace only a drunk can have. Timotheus slid headfirst along the floor to an explosion of laughter from all the patrons. He scrambled to his feet. “We are agents of the Crown! Desist at once!” Telémahkos called out in the most authoritative voice he could muster, but was met with more derisive laughter. [I]to be continued. . .[/I] ----------------------------------------- [b]Notes:[/b] (1) “Greenback” and “Lizzies” are disparaging names for lizardfolk. [/QUOTE]
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"Second Son of a Second Son" - An Aquerra Story Hour (*finally* Updated 04/19)
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