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Message: <blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 1061718" data-attributes="member: 2292">Friday, September 22nd, continuedWith the Gauntian menace purged from their Abbey, the people of Haggash begin to celebrate like they’ve never celebrated before.  Weak ale is brought in from the Inn of the Welcome Arms, one of the villages aging sheep is killed and roasted, and for a few moments everyone in town attempts to smile.  The four adventurers do their best to accept the village’s gratitude with good grace, but all of them are itching to be back on the road towards Hommlet.  Or, at the very least, escape the endless succession of pockmarked faces that stop past to grovel and praise them.  Later, in the relative quiet of their room in the Inn, they finally get a chance to examine the spoils of the day and discuss the mysteries that the Abbey and Haggash have raised.  “By the Holy Cudgel those people are persistent,” Geoffrey grumbles.  “They wanted you to stay and be sheriff,” Halgo comments blandly.  “You know the old rule – save one of these fleck-mark towns and you’re responsible for it for a year and a day in the eyes of the people.”“You’d think they’d at least offer us a reward if they wanted us to stay.”“First – wanted you to stay, not us.  No-one wants a half-orc and a kobold in the militia, and these people are actually backwards enough they think dwarves can’t be wizards,” Halgo corrects.  “Secondly, they did give us a reward.  See the thirty pieces of copper in the threadbare pouch?    The soiled one that looks like it belonged to those rat-things?  ”He points at the small cluster of items and coins on the bed before him.  Geoffrey nods.“Well, the rat things carried silver.  I think we just wiped out the town treasury.  For a moment I even contemplated letting them keep it, it must be hard moving up to a dinky one-horse town if adventurers keep saving your hides, but I figured thirty copper may be just enough to buy us the ale we need to cope with this day.” Geoffrey sighs.“At least Desol had the healing potions,” he says.  “And we got the spell book,” Halgo points out.  “Wands, scrolls and spells will always come in handy.”“Yip confused,” Yip comments.  “Thought we were doing job?  Why things matter?”“We are,” Geoffrey says.  “But our mandate is to look like adventurers.  Adventurers take rewards, so we do the same.  Besides, we’ll be using these to do the churches business.”Yip nods, satisfied.  Something in the small kobolds soul sings at the very thought of such ownership, having something to call his own.  There’s always the possibility of trading the metal disks for more ale, and that’s nothing to be argued with.“The only thing that bothers me,” Halgo says, “is what happened to that orb and what that symbol means.  It worries me when something that powerful sits around without anyone knowing it was there.  It’s never a good sign.”“Blarth just happy Desol not mad,” Blarth says. “He’s the ancestral caretaker of the Abbey,” Halgo grumbles.  “Him not knowing about the orb at all just make things worse.”“Not much we can do about it here,” Geoffrey shrugs.  “We’ll turn the information over to Y’Dey when we get to Hommlet and search the archives for the symbol.  Sooner or later we’ll turn something up.”Saturday, September 23rd – Monday, October 16thAfter Haggash, arriving in Hommlet at Sunset is a welcome relief.  The trails of smoke rising up over the sparse forest and the smell of cooking food lingering on the breeze is enough to set everyone salivating, and even the sparse fare of the Temple is a treat compared to the overcooked lamb and weak ale of Haggash.  There are elder priests in attendance when the group arrives, sixteen clerics who served the Church as traveling Justicars or High Priests in the larger churches.  The copper bell has taken pride of place over the alter in preparation to the rituals necessary to bind magic into its being, but the tale of it’s delivery are more than enough to bring a slight flush to Geoffrey’s cheeks when Y’Dey tells it over dinner.The Copperheads see very little of each other in the days to follow.  Almost as soon as they arrive, one of the High Justicars commandeers Yip and begins using him as a messenger, sending the fast-moving kobold to nearby towns for days on end before finally sending him north to Petrev.  Geoffrey is quickly consumed in the planning and creation of the warding bell, serving as an aid to the clerics focused on its creation rather than contributing his own skills, but kept busy nonetheless.  Even in the weeks after the Bell’s completion he’s kept busy as Y’Dey puts him through his paces, consistently testing his skills in spell casting, combat and theology.  The testing is hard, often more rigorous than Geoffrey can bare, but as the weeks pass he learns to adapt.  His timing becomes faster, more exact.  He learns greater control over the divine energies that flow through him.  Halgo is lost to his art, moving out of the temple to take quarters at Hommlet’s inn while he studies the various spells and arcane items he took from the Gauntian’s corpse.  He cites the Spartan living conditions in the temple as his reason for moving away, but in truth there is a certain trepidation in looking at the Gauntian’s art.  Even as he starts memorizing some of the strange enhancements, he knows that there is a tinge of evil to some of the craft he’s memorizing.  Such spells are in the minority, however, and he’s pleased to discover a fair number of divinations and illusions among the Guantians necromancy.Blarth leads groups of Hommlet’s militia into the woods by day and whiles away the evenings at the local taverns.  Restlessness comes to him first, the vague dissatisfaction of a militia soldiers tasks leading him towards more hours at the tavern, and as the weeks wear on even that starts to wear thin.  As the second week of October begins, he lingers around Halgo’s room and Geoffrey’s training more often, eager for some clue about when they can move on.  When none is given, he returns to the taproom of the Welcome Wench and stares at the dragon’s skull hanging over the hearth.  “If Blarth kill dragon for Drakkar one day.” he muses, sipping at his ninth ale, “Drakkar be pleased with Blarth.  Blarth give Drakkar head, Drakkar give Blarth back father.  Blarth make Drakkar proud.  Blarth not puny.  Drakkar not puny.  Very much alike.”The last week passes slowly for the Half-orc, slower still when Halgo finishes his studies and begins joining him in the Taproom.  They wait, impatiently, for some sign of Yip’s return or Geoffrey being released from the rigor of his training.</blockquote>

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