OoC:Connection down all day, sorry folks. Looks like the Bridge has at least half of the folks vote, so...
IC
Mounting quickly and riding downriver, in a little over an hour you come to the bridge that the Jasperfist Dwarves mentioned.
A sturdy enough looking affair, the bridge was awash with water, though only by an inch or two. Quickness of action was needed, before the waters rose any higher.
With Algram (who has big golashes on) leading his horse by foot, the rest of you cross mounted,keeping a steady hand upon the reigns,so as not to let the steeds bolt over the side of the bridge in panic.
<Riding checks all passed>
In a quarter of an hour,you are all across and on your way again, a light rain escalating into a full blown torrent just as the dim lights of some sort of house become visible in the gloom. Ahead, perched atop a hill in a field of grassland,lies a lodge of some sort. It looks perhaps 50 feet long and half that wide.
Urgan lets out an excited laugh, saying 'Thet be a Bainlunder Lodge, friends o the Stonepike Dwarves...They'll 'ave stew an beer,I reckon.
Bainlunders is a bit diff'rent, though. They'll not take payment fer their hospitality, not coin anyways. Some sort of gift, though...a trade of sorts.Figure what a dry roof and hearty food is worth to ye, and part accordingly.' Urging his pony forwards, Urgan leads the party up the hill.
Upon gaining the heights, you see that there is also a low barn, perhaps onlya dozen feet tall, but with room enough for horses and hay above.
As you gain the yard, the door opens and a large man dressed in voluminas furs stands in the doorway,a Battle Axe gripped tight.Seeing the Dwarves, he says <Dwarvish>' Hail,brothers of the Stones,what do ye seek this fine night, eh? And what news do ye bring from afar?'
Urgan answers 'Hail,brother upon the hill,from Stonepike do we come, and there we return. News is a dark thing, best spoke of under a roof and with good Bainlunder food in our bellies.
The man nods, satisfied with the answer and says something in an unknown tongue, wherupon three children (two teen boys and a younger girl) run out,laughing, to tae the tethers of the steeds as you all dismount, soaked and weary (especially Thurgan and Aranel, who seem to be perpetually cursed with saddle sores).
Once inside, you see the place to be cozy and very warm, heated by dried grasses and smelling of stew and breads. There are perhaps a dozen humans inside, a tall and fair people, although their hair is almost jet black, an oddity in this part of the world amongst humans. The frames of these folk are broad and their eyes are a pale green , for the most part.
Seeing you standing about, unsure of what to do, the man from the doorway says something to several of the women and an old fat man near the fire, who immediately begin to dole of bowls of thick stew (rabbit, from the smell) and small loaves of round bread, so hot that the butter that they pat upon it melts instantly upon contact.
Gesturing to several low tables, the man says 'I am Garunn, and this is my family.My wives, children and my father. As well, my two brothers are yonder,sewing.'
Indeed, two strapping men were further in, sewing what looked to be brocaded capes. It seemed that these folk all too a turn at various tasks, with none being deemed 'women's work', for example.
