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Sniktch's Story Hour Prelude - From the Beginning (UPDATED 04/22)
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<blockquote data-quote="Sniktch" data-source="post: 434711" data-attributes="member: 7704"><p><strong>Around town, part 2</strong></p><p></p><p>Filthy Ike woke up early in his room at the Foaming Mug and dressed quickly. He had plans with how to spend his time before they went back to the mines. His anger at Lord Travens had only grown during the last couple of days, and he planned to find a way to make the aristocrat pay for his callousness and snobbery.</p><p></p><p>A half an hour later found him crouched in the branches of a thick fir tree, giving him an excellent view of the Lord’s manor while concealing him from casual view. He studied the house intently, looking to establish the early morning routine of the household and determine of an opportunity existed to break in. </p><p></p><p>A rustling in the branches alerted him to the presence of another a few seconds before a small, agile form bundled in thick furs clambered up and sat on the branch next to his. Welby tossed a dead chicken over the limb he sat upon and began devouring another.</p><p></p><p>“Welby, I’m trying to avoid notice!” Ike hissed.</p><p></p><p>“No worry, Ike. No one see Welby. Chicken?”</p><p></p><p>Ike turned down the offered hunk of raw meat. “So what do you want then? I don’t have time for games right now.”</p><p></p><p>“Welby want be sneaky. Like you. You teach Welby?” The halfling focused his cherubic face upon Ike hopefully.</p><p></p><p>“Is that it? Sure, Welby, I’ll teach you how to be stealthier. Meet me behind the inn tomorrow morning after your chicken run and I’ll show you all about it.”</p><p></p><p>The small barbarian beamed happily at Ike for a minute before dropping back out of the tree and loping back toward the Inn. Ike shook his head in amusement and went back to studying the silent manor house.</p><p></p><p> *****</p><p></p><p>Artimas had also risen early, but spent the first hours of his day in prayer to Arawn and deep in the study of his spellbooks. Finally, hunger roused him, so he grabbed his sketchbook and journeyed downstairs to break his fast. The Crow greeted him groggily, raising a steaming mug of tea in salute and motioning for Artimas to join him.</p><p></p><p>“Morning, Art,” he mumbled amiably. “Glad to have the company. Eli isn’t quite well enough to get out of bed yet, and as you know, Jack stayed up most of the night, deep in his cups. Our furry barbarian and our friend the half-orc have, as usual, already headed out, leaving yours truly to eat a sad and lonely meal.”</p><p></p><p>“You take that back, Royston!” Ned chimed in from behind the bar. “If my company means so little to ya, you can cook yer own breakfast from now on!”</p><p></p><p>“Sorry, Ned. What I meant to say, Artimas, is that were it not for our esteemed and congenial host Ned here, I would have eaten a sad and lonely meal.”</p><p></p><p>Art laughed at the playful banter and took his seat, ordering a hot cup of water and a bowl of oatmeal from the proprietor. He wolfed down the cereal before it could grow cold, then mixed his tea and leaned back to relax and enjoy the companionship. He chimed into the conversation from time to time, but primarily he focused on the pad before him and concentrated on finishing a portrait of his half-elven friend.</p><p></p><p>The tavern stayed quiet; due to the cold weather the regulars would not begin arriving until the late afternoon, if at all, and the companions were the only travelers currently staying at the inn. Ike and Welby returned after a while, Ike joining in the idle chatter, while Welby ordered his customary stack of pancakes and started digging in. </p><p></p><p>Shortly before noon the front door opened and admitted two strangers. When they removed their winter gear, the two newcomers were revealed to be a female dwarf with gold thread and jewels braided into her long, luxurious beard, and a tall, muscle-bound half-orc wearing a simple monk’s outfit. Everyone in the room merely gaped at this strange duo, and even the incessant chatter of Ned ceased momentarily. The half-orc stooped to whisper to the female, waving tree trunk arms in the direction of the friends’ table. She responded with a nod, and then the pair hesitantly approached.</p><p></p><p> *****</p><p></p><p>Quinn Hammerknell started having the dreams at the onset of winter. </p><p></p><p>At first the dream had been simple. She would see the land spread out below here as if she were standing on a tall peak or flying on the wings of a bird, and the shadow would spread over the land. Soon, even though the sun still shone bright in the air above her, the land below would appear cloaked in darkness except for a few bright motes of light which were overwhelmed and extinguished one at a time while she watched.</p><p></p><p>These dreams always left her feeling tired and chilled the next day, but she could not make sense of the vision and simply ignored it. The dreams persisted and evolved as snow began to layer the ground. She began to zoom in closer to the ground on her nightly flights, and she saw that the darkness was really a rolling mass of orcs, goblins, and the other evil races, lead by towering, terrifying behemoths of demonic visage. The lands they passed over remained dark, stained with rivers of blood. She would wake from these dreams in a cold sweat, heart pounding beneath her blankets.</p><p></p><p>The church elders could not explain the visions, but they did not try to deny their significance. “Quinn,” they told her, “we have long feared the return of the forgotten evils that destroyed the civilization of before. We fear that your dreams are a sign from great Dumathoin warning us that this indeed is coming to pass.”</p><p></p><p>“But why me?” she asked them. “Why has Dumathoin in his wisdom chosen me to receive his blessing? I am a mere novice; wouldn’t he have chosen one of the more experienced brethren?”</p><p></p><p>“You are right to question but do not try to understand. Your faith is the answer and should be all you require until great Dumathoin sees fit to reveal more. In the legends of the lost times it is foretold that when the shadow creeps once more across the land each of the good powers will select a champion to combat the darkness. Perhaps you have been selected as Dumathoin’s champion – we have always believed that you were a special daughter of the church.”</p><p></p><p>The dreams continued, always growing in scope and detail. Finally, the elders met and decided to send Quinn out into the world to find the meaning of the dreams. “Our course is clear,” they told her. “It is obvious to us now that the forgotten evils have entered or threaten to enter our world again. It is also clear to us that Dumathoin has selected you to perform some special task in the dark days that lie ahead of us. You are to go out into the world to try to find the purpose you have been given and fulfill it. Find the roots of the wickedness spreading through our land and pull them into the light, where they will wither and die.”</p><p></p><p>So Quinn left, accompanied only by her “adopted” brother and constant companion Grick, the half-orc monk. Once on the road, the visions altered, and now Quinn saw far off places and individuals, and felt she came to know these other people, and felt she needed to see these other places. Some of them it was her job to befriend and some she would need to thwart. It was all jumbled, surreal imagery she could not exactly make sense of, but she knew all would be made clear when the time was right.</p><p></p><p>The dreams led them slowly eastward, and finally one morning, into a small village nestled between a great forest and a steep range of craggy hills. Quinn and Grick strolled down the road leading into Travensburg, confident that their purpose, for now, lay in the sleepy village. </p><p></p><p>And now, in the Foaming Mug, she found herself face to face with three of the strangers who nightly filled her dreams.</p><p></p><p>“Your pardon, ma’am, is there something I can assist with?” came the friendly and polite question from the balding, bespectacled gentleman. Yes, here was the one with the hidden heart, the good man who lived in the shadows. And across from him the savage child, and next to him the forgotten one. She did not recognize the fourth, a half-orc like her Grick, but that hardly mattered. Here were the strangers who were meant to be here friends and traveling companions.</p><p></p><p>They were all staring at her and she realized she had not answered the question. “Yes, I’m sorry, its just that – well, I feel like I know you from somewhere. My name is Quinn Hammerknell, and this is my associate Grick. We hail from the fortress of Dun Akbar to the west. We came to Travensburg following a series of dreams I experience nightly.” </p><p></p><p>She described her dreams to them, adding the interpretations of the elders. The companions were silent until she finished, then Ike broke the spell, “Well, then, it seems the two of you will just have to join us.”</p><p></p><p> *****</p><p></p><p>They stayed in town for three more days, until Eli was fully recovered from his wounds and could travel again. Jack and the elf were introduced to the two newcomers, and while Eli seemed unimpressed, Jack was overjoyed to have another dwarf in the party, spending long hours with Quinn swapping tales by the fire. Ike and Welby met every morning to work on the finer points of stealth, after which Welby returned to the inn for his customary stacks of pancakes and Ike continued his surveillance of Traven’s manor. Artimas buried himself in his books and his sketchpad and the Crow convinced Ned to teach him how to cook.</p><p></p><p>Winter moved along outside, each day bringing them closer to the spring thaw. A couple of days were even warm enough to melt a good bit of the snow blanketing the ground. Finally, the day after Eli left his bed and joined them downstairs, they knew it was time to return. </p><p></p><p>On a crisp, sunny morning when the westerly breezes hinted of spring they returned to the cursed mines of Duernfast.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sniktch, post: 434711, member: 7704"] [b]Around town, part 2[/b] Filthy Ike woke up early in his room at the Foaming Mug and dressed quickly. He had plans with how to spend his time before they went back to the mines. His anger at Lord Travens had only grown during the last couple of days, and he planned to find a way to make the aristocrat pay for his callousness and snobbery. A half an hour later found him crouched in the branches of a thick fir tree, giving him an excellent view of the Lord’s manor while concealing him from casual view. He studied the house intently, looking to establish the early morning routine of the household and determine of an opportunity existed to break in. A rustling in the branches alerted him to the presence of another a few seconds before a small, agile form bundled in thick furs clambered up and sat on the branch next to his. Welby tossed a dead chicken over the limb he sat upon and began devouring another. “Welby, I’m trying to avoid notice!” Ike hissed. “No worry, Ike. No one see Welby. Chicken?” Ike turned down the offered hunk of raw meat. “So what do you want then? I don’t have time for games right now.” “Welby want be sneaky. Like you. You teach Welby?” The halfling focused his cherubic face upon Ike hopefully. “Is that it? Sure, Welby, I’ll teach you how to be stealthier. Meet me behind the inn tomorrow morning after your chicken run and I’ll show you all about it.” The small barbarian beamed happily at Ike for a minute before dropping back out of the tree and loping back toward the Inn. Ike shook his head in amusement and went back to studying the silent manor house. ***** Artimas had also risen early, but spent the first hours of his day in prayer to Arawn and deep in the study of his spellbooks. Finally, hunger roused him, so he grabbed his sketchbook and journeyed downstairs to break his fast. The Crow greeted him groggily, raising a steaming mug of tea in salute and motioning for Artimas to join him. “Morning, Art,” he mumbled amiably. “Glad to have the company. Eli isn’t quite well enough to get out of bed yet, and as you know, Jack stayed up most of the night, deep in his cups. Our furry barbarian and our friend the half-orc have, as usual, already headed out, leaving yours truly to eat a sad and lonely meal.” “You take that back, Royston!” Ned chimed in from behind the bar. “If my company means so little to ya, you can cook yer own breakfast from now on!” “Sorry, Ned. What I meant to say, Artimas, is that were it not for our esteemed and congenial host Ned here, I would have eaten a sad and lonely meal.” Art laughed at the playful banter and took his seat, ordering a hot cup of water and a bowl of oatmeal from the proprietor. He wolfed down the cereal before it could grow cold, then mixed his tea and leaned back to relax and enjoy the companionship. He chimed into the conversation from time to time, but primarily he focused on the pad before him and concentrated on finishing a portrait of his half-elven friend. The tavern stayed quiet; due to the cold weather the regulars would not begin arriving until the late afternoon, if at all, and the companions were the only travelers currently staying at the inn. Ike and Welby returned after a while, Ike joining in the idle chatter, while Welby ordered his customary stack of pancakes and started digging in. Shortly before noon the front door opened and admitted two strangers. When they removed their winter gear, the two newcomers were revealed to be a female dwarf with gold thread and jewels braided into her long, luxurious beard, and a tall, muscle-bound half-orc wearing a simple monk’s outfit. Everyone in the room merely gaped at this strange duo, and even the incessant chatter of Ned ceased momentarily. The half-orc stooped to whisper to the female, waving tree trunk arms in the direction of the friends’ table. She responded with a nod, and then the pair hesitantly approached. ***** Quinn Hammerknell started having the dreams at the onset of winter. At first the dream had been simple. She would see the land spread out below here as if she were standing on a tall peak or flying on the wings of a bird, and the shadow would spread over the land. Soon, even though the sun still shone bright in the air above her, the land below would appear cloaked in darkness except for a few bright motes of light which were overwhelmed and extinguished one at a time while she watched. These dreams always left her feeling tired and chilled the next day, but she could not make sense of the vision and simply ignored it. The dreams persisted and evolved as snow began to layer the ground. She began to zoom in closer to the ground on her nightly flights, and she saw that the darkness was really a rolling mass of orcs, goblins, and the other evil races, lead by towering, terrifying behemoths of demonic visage. The lands they passed over remained dark, stained with rivers of blood. She would wake from these dreams in a cold sweat, heart pounding beneath her blankets. The church elders could not explain the visions, but they did not try to deny their significance. “Quinn,” they told her, “we have long feared the return of the forgotten evils that destroyed the civilization of before. We fear that your dreams are a sign from great Dumathoin warning us that this indeed is coming to pass.” “But why me?” she asked them. “Why has Dumathoin in his wisdom chosen me to receive his blessing? I am a mere novice; wouldn’t he have chosen one of the more experienced brethren?” “You are right to question but do not try to understand. Your faith is the answer and should be all you require until great Dumathoin sees fit to reveal more. In the legends of the lost times it is foretold that when the shadow creeps once more across the land each of the good powers will select a champion to combat the darkness. Perhaps you have been selected as Dumathoin’s champion – we have always believed that you were a special daughter of the church.” The dreams continued, always growing in scope and detail. Finally, the elders met and decided to send Quinn out into the world to find the meaning of the dreams. “Our course is clear,” they told her. “It is obvious to us now that the forgotten evils have entered or threaten to enter our world again. It is also clear to us that Dumathoin has selected you to perform some special task in the dark days that lie ahead of us. You are to go out into the world to try to find the purpose you have been given and fulfill it. Find the roots of the wickedness spreading through our land and pull them into the light, where they will wither and die.” So Quinn left, accompanied only by her “adopted” brother and constant companion Grick, the half-orc monk. Once on the road, the visions altered, and now Quinn saw far off places and individuals, and felt she came to know these other people, and felt she needed to see these other places. Some of them it was her job to befriend and some she would need to thwart. It was all jumbled, surreal imagery she could not exactly make sense of, but she knew all would be made clear when the time was right. The dreams led them slowly eastward, and finally one morning, into a small village nestled between a great forest and a steep range of craggy hills. Quinn and Grick strolled down the road leading into Travensburg, confident that their purpose, for now, lay in the sleepy village. And now, in the Foaming Mug, she found herself face to face with three of the strangers who nightly filled her dreams. “Your pardon, ma’am, is there something I can assist with?” came the friendly and polite question from the balding, bespectacled gentleman. Yes, here was the one with the hidden heart, the good man who lived in the shadows. And across from him the savage child, and next to him the forgotten one. She did not recognize the fourth, a half-orc like her Grick, but that hardly mattered. Here were the strangers who were meant to be here friends and traveling companions. They were all staring at her and she realized she had not answered the question. “Yes, I’m sorry, its just that – well, I feel like I know you from somewhere. My name is Quinn Hammerknell, and this is my associate Grick. We hail from the fortress of Dun Akbar to the west. We came to Travensburg following a series of dreams I experience nightly.” She described her dreams to them, adding the interpretations of the elders. The companions were silent until she finished, then Ike broke the spell, “Well, then, it seems the two of you will just have to join us.” ***** They stayed in town for three more days, until Eli was fully recovered from his wounds and could travel again. Jack and the elf were introduced to the two newcomers, and while Eli seemed unimpressed, Jack was overjoyed to have another dwarf in the party, spending long hours with Quinn swapping tales by the fire. Ike and Welby met every morning to work on the finer points of stealth, after which Welby returned to the inn for his customary stacks of pancakes and Ike continued his surveillance of Traven’s manor. Artimas buried himself in his books and his sketchpad and the Crow convinced Ned to teach him how to cook. Winter moved along outside, each day bringing them closer to the spring thaw. A couple of days were even warm enough to melt a good bit of the snow blanketing the ground. Finally, the day after Eli left his bed and joined them downstairs, they knew it was time to return. On a crisp, sunny morning when the westerly breezes hinted of spring they returned to the cursed mines of Duernfast. [/QUOTE]
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