Six From Gate Pass - Chapter 3: Shelter From The Storm

[digimattic]

Arnir heads to bed early and goes over his spells, though he knows he is unlikely to be able to use them and wakes the next morning feeling fresh and alert, even if still a bit sore. He makes his way down to where his companions wait and listens to them banter back and forth but finds himself focused almost exclusively on his missing bow feeling naked and vulnerable without it.

"I truly do not care whether Merrywinter lives or dies- he is a hired assassin and there may be others. I just want my bloody bow back!"

Arnir lounges about for the rest of the morning and follows Kirio to the inn for lunch. Despite feeling no actual hunger, his nervousness inspires him to order half a honey-roast capon with leeks and potatoes and he picks at it until Smeed shows up. Letting the halfling say his piece Arnir then pipes up. "It shall be as you say Smeed, however there is one unnegotiable condition on our partnership, namely should these men be found in the possession of our weapons, their rightful owners reclaim them. This does not count towards each person's share of potential booty."

 

[Bannock]

Bannock hates the halfling. He wants this small puke-stain on the world to die. Yet he sits still, and listens to Smeed's statements carefully, subconsciously analyzing every singsong syllable for hints of malicious intent and ulterior motives.

 

[Gregor]

"'ave yer weapons, do they long ears?" the halfling scoffs, "T'aint none o' Smeed's concern that yer not able t'hold on t'yer things. 'Ow many trinkets n' weapons n' quaffable 'lixirs you be stealin' from those ye just sent to the Abyss? Hmmmm? Things 'er lost n' others find 'em." He takes a long slow drink. "Fair be fair n' we have a deal, seven way split o' what we be findin' down there boyo. If ye must be havin' yer toys back, then ye forfeit part of yer other spoils. That's the way it'll be, or Smeed be walkin'"

Bannock, its hard to tell what the halfling is about. You do have a hunch though, that Smeed is a right prick who is motivated by nothing other than gold.

 

[digimattic]

"Enough of this foolishness. We don't need the greasy little , and I'd rather give Master Simeon my gold than this maggot. We have no reason to trust him, no assurances that he speaks truth, and even less reason to like him. I move we leave Smeed here to wallow in his filth. He got a free meal on us and that's just about all I'll give him."

Arnir looks around the table hoping his party remembers the letter that Hrmir found directly written to Merrywinter.

 

[Adjuntive]

Alric clenches his fist until an audible popping noise begins to erupt from it, and his jaw moves back and forth visibly grinding his teeth. Even without the constant jabbering insults, he'd sooner spit a rat than trust Smeed or even fight alongside him. Sighing, Alric knows the options are few from his point of view.

"What can we learn from Simeon, Arnir? We have none of Merrywinter's personal effects nor his true name. Nay, this -smear is our best chance. Unless you'd like to accept the geas from a cleric of mask. I'd rather eat rat-carrion than pay him but I see little recourse."

Alric's ears prick up at Smeed's mention of haunting, "Could there be ghosts? Like the one that damaged Bannock's soul? Should we bring a priest?"

 

[The Bashar]

Hrimr nods in agreement with Alric.

"We do not have any better leads at the moment. We can scry the letter, but that may be another dead end. We can search the embassies for information, but how long will it take to get the information we need?

Is forfeiting some gold too large a price to get your bow back and remove this threat?"

 

[digimattic]

"The two of you must be the most profoundly stupid pair of fools I have ever known. Do you understand the concept of a negotiation? You realize Smeed is RIGHT FU#$ING THERE? Mystra save me. Perhaps I should just take up with Smeed, detestable though he is, at least he has his wits about him."

 

[Gregor]

Smeed laughs, spraying some cheese and bread from his mouth onto the table. "Oh aye, a filthy brown n' greasy stain upon ol' breeches is Smeed, no denyin'." He thumbs in the direction of Alric and Hrimr. "But yer long eared friend has it true. I be havin' more wits n' street smarts then these e'er fools." He cackles. "A tip to ye oh sir knight of the small sausage, and ye, ya sodden bearded moose. T'aint a wise man who be showin' his hand so easily. N'ery another option t'choose eh? Canna use ol' Simeon, high in his ol' tower. Nowhere else to be turnin' then little ol' Smeed."

He drinks from his ale, laughter dancing in his green eyes as he turns them to Arnir. "Lets be about it then eh? Ye canna stand ol' Smeed. That be fair. I'm a rotten of a halfling. Tis the truth. Ye dunna want to be sharin' in the fun with me n' mine, that be fine n' swell. But ye ain't know where ye be needin' to point yer blades n' aim yer bows. Reach into yer purses, slap down me five hundred and ol' Smeed'l tell ye what ye need to know n' move on. As me Da used ta chirp, pinch yer loaf when yer bakin' on tha throne! Deal?"

 

[Adjuntive]

Alric quickly forgets about the despicable little halfling and turns an icy glare towards Arnir, and he ignores Smeeds continued chirping.

"I'm not here to dicker as I've skills other than reading your demented elf-wizard mind Arnir. Make your deal whatever it is, then come find me when you're done with subtlety." With that Alric rises and leaves the table heading back to the house having his fill of this company.

 

[digimattic]

Arnir shakes his head in disbelief as Alric rises "And to think you want to negotiate peace between 8 religious factions...."

Turning back to Smeed he says "Does anyone else have anything to add? If we must deal with Smeed here, I'd have him come with us."