In the Valus - The Heroes of Marchford (Chapter 14 Continues - 12/24/08)

[Funeris]

Chapter Somenumber: Minetown Continued

Magnus twisted his head, vomit splattering onto the ground. He had narrowly avoided the piece of parchment he had been scribbling upon all day. The mage grabbed his stomach and moaned.

“Don’t worry,” Motega joyfully replied. “The nausea will pass. Belladonna always has that effect. You’re lucky you survived mage.” The Rornman smiled wickedly.

“And why do you carry it with you?” The young wizard groaned in between another surge of bile and vomit.

“It always pays to be prepared,” Motega quietly replied, his grin fading.

The road along Raider’s Bay had carried the Heroes safely southward, toward Minetown. Surprisingly after the battle with the lycanthrope and the slaughter of the Roven, they had traveled unmolested. Aside from the occasional forest, the view had been open and gracious. There was even a pleasant breeze rolling over the crags blocking the bay. The green grasses confining the road swayed gently in the soft air.

Soon enough, the outskirts of buildings began to pop up. Most were small, wooden framed structures with thatched roofs. A few townsfolk were milling about their homes, but as the Heroes approached they scowled scuttling toward their doors. While the behavior was curious, it was not entirely unexpected. If the Culites were using Minetown as a base of operation, all outsiders would have been distrusted.

The party collectively sighed, trotting their horses deeper into the village. As they drew up to a fork, they slowed and stopped. All signs of life had vanished; people disappearing into their homes with a slam of a door and not even a second glance.

“Ideas?” Fitz questioned.

“The tavern,” the paladin replied, sure and confident about the decision.

“That flying halfling did mention something about a tavern and its halfling owner,” Motega agreed.

“I hate taverns,” Magnus complained. “You always meet the strangest people in them.” With a teasing glance at his compatriots, the mage trotted forward, searching for the tavern.

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Well, there's my third update for you Yeti. I have now update each of the story hours once since wednesday...all with approximately 4-500 words. (I even tied this one to Valus +20 with tavern references ) So there.

Happy b-day to me...happy b-day to me....



~Fune

 

[Fimmtiu]

Happy birthday, and keep them coming! It's good to see this excellent SH active again.

 

[Funeris]

Thank you thank you thank you.

Yeti says hi, everyone. I can't give you an update tonight...i'm about 10 ounces into the whiskey. But perhaps Sunday (Tomorrow's game day for Va/DC/Md).

So stay tuned. I'm glad I still have readers for this

~Fune

 

[Funeris]

Chapter Somenumber: Minetown Cont'd.

“This is it,” Motega grunted. He brushed his dark hair back from his eyes, wiping a bit of travel-dirt from his face.

“You’re the cleanest Rorn in existence, Mo,” Magnus prodded. “A little dirt won’t hurt. So,” the mage shoved the parchment he had been glancing over into his satchel, “I suppose we just walk in to this tavern—owned by a halfling—in a Culite-infested town and hope that we can discern some information. And more importantly, not get poisoned for our curiousity.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tobias replied. “What was the owner’s name again?”

“Whembly Burrfoot,” answered the priest. “At least, that’s what that flying halfling said.”

“Are we sure about we’re at the right tavern?” Tobias questioned. He glanced at the rickety sign, swaying slightly in the breeze. The indecipherable, at least to his level of intelligence, symbols were black and coarse, inscribed below a finer set of symbols with a dark ‘X’ across.

Motega glanced at the mage, waiting for an assurance. Tobias mimicked the look while Magnus smiled condescendingly.

“Yes this is—or at least was—the Whore’s Nag. But as you’ll note, the Whore’s Nag has been scratched out. Below it, well, it looks like some uneducated fool tried to write: Abe’s Bar and Inn. Of course, he spelled Inn wrong, and the ‘a’ in bar is backward, and …”

The Rornman interjected, “we get it, mage. The man doesn’t know how to spell or write—he’s so inferior to you.” Magnus’ face flushed crimson. “Let’s just go in and get this over with.” Tobias reached into his haversack, checking to assure the placement of something that might become vital and smiled. A plan, indeed.

Suddenly, a child popped his shaggy brown hair around the corner of the tavern, his beady eyes measuring the company. Tobias nodded his head, a gesture of acknowledgement, and the child hopped out to stand before the party. The youth bowed, low and awkwardly, rising to puff his chest out to twice its normal girth.

“Ello’ good sirs and welcome to Honest Abe’s Bar and Inn. If you’d like, we ‘ave stables in the rear where I can house yer steeds, for a normal rate.” He grinned, proud of his recitation.

“Don’t you mean nominal rate?” Magnus questioned and the child guffawed, insecurity upon his face. “And how much is this fee?”

“Greed is a path that leads to evil,” Tobias hissed. The paladin glanced at the child and smiled warmly. “Here you go. I believe this should cover it.” He tossed a small bag of coin—which the child caught deftly. His eyes opened wide in shock when he peered at the contents. “And of course,” Tobias stated cheerfully, “a well-earned tip for one so adept at his job.”

“Thank you very much, kind sirs.” The stableboy moved to gather the reins and stuck his tongue out at the mage. The party dismounted and steeled their selves for whatever they would find within ‘Honest’ Abe’s Bar and Inn.

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There's five hundred words exactly for you, Yeti--the Mad Mage. Not to mention all the other readers out there---See, I told you I'd update on Sunday

~Fune

 

[TheYeti1775]

Always making me look like an @ss....

Magnus was not that bad, was he????

I remember him as nothing but a saint. (Why's that sky darkening????)

 

[Funeris]

Chapter Somenumber: Minetown Continued

Its short...I know, I know. But I'm a bit out of it...doped up on Nyquil and Sudafed. And someone mentioned to me that they had read this...and it made me feel guilty for not updating in such a time. ...so here you go...

I'm so weak

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“Welcome, Welcome, Welcome!” bellowed a thin, balding man. He pushed a few strands of silvering hair from his eyes while hurrying toward the Heroes. “Have a seat,” he commanded as much as suggested, taking a dirt-clad rag and scrubbing down the largest table within the inn. Along the walls hung all manner of paraphernalia from broken swords to the heads of a variety of animals preserved perfectly after death and even ancient candelabras. A thick dust clung upon many of the tables speaking tales about neglect and a constant lack of patrons.

Tobias grunted, taking the center chair with a clear view toward the bar that stretched along the far wall. The Rornman and the mage both chose chairs with clear views through the dingy windows while Fitz chose the chair closest the aged man. The priest beamed at him.

“Now, what can I get for you folks?”

“Infor—” Motega started before Fitz cut him off, “We have traveled a long distance.” The priest shot a glare to silence the ranger. “What foods do you have readily available?”

“Ah, well I have the most delicious stew on this side of Raider’s Bay. And make no doubt,” he emphasized his statements by punctuating the air with his index finger, “it’s sure to cure what’ ails ya—‘specially if it’s exhaustion. I used to travel a bit back in my younger days…” the man rambled on for the better part of ten minutes, all in describing how he had been forced to create a powerful stew to keep one warm on cool winter days and awake on those tiring, endless nights and filled with energy for the near-endless wandering between adventures. Fitz nodded politely. Tobias cautiously watched the old man. Motega rubbed his brow and Magnus yawned, both of their attentions glued once again to the windows and the outside town. Not a soul passed in front of the windows.

“Well, that sounds positively delicious. I’ll have some of your stew,” the priest said. “And ale?” He tossed two golden coins toward the server.

“Yes, sir. The finest ale yer likely to find—if I may be so bold—in the entirety of Valusia.”

“Not likely,” grunted the Rorn.

“Well give me a mug then!” shouted Fitz to cover the derogatory comment.

“Of course—and your friends?” He turned to each member individually.

“The same,” stated Magnus.

“The same,” Motega grunted.

“I’m fine,” said Tobias coldly.

“Nothing at all, sir?” The old man’s eyebrows arched.

“I said, I’m fine,” repeated the paladin. Tobias grabbed a trail ration from his pack as well as his water-skin. He tore into the trail ration, without giving the man another glance.

“Well—that’ll be,” the old man began but Fitz silenced him by tossing a few more golden coins into his hand. The geezer coughed and sputtered before saying, “That should cover it.” He rushed back behind the bar and through an opening into the kitchen.

“What was all that about?” the priest demanded from Tobias.

The holy warrior shrugged, mumbling, “We’re in enemy territory. I’ll be twice damned if I’m going to eat anything that may be poisoned. Enjoy your meal, though.” He returned to finishing the ration.

“Are we even going to try to garner any information from this native?” Magnus queried.

“Sometimes, mage,” Fitz educated, “you have to soften them up first with pleasantries.” The Rorn grunted, the mage shook his head.

“I’d rather beat it out of him…” murmured Magnus.

“I have no doubt you would but that’s not always the most effective way,” the cleric admonished.

“We’re here to meet with a halfling, aren’t we?” asked Tobias. “He looks a little tall to be a halfling, let alone a halfling named Wembly. And this is the only tavern we’ve seen in the entire town. Which means, this must be the Whore’s Nag, or whatever the name of it was. I suspect foul play.”

The old man darted toward the table, steaming dishes of stew perched upon an old wooden tray. “Dinner is served,” he half-sang as he smiled at the group.

 

[TheYeti1775]

Always leaving me wanting more.

 

[Funeris]

Gah! We lost two pages. Damn it.

~Fune

 

[Funeris]

Chapter 11: Minetown (Continued)

“Are you sure,” Honest Abe queried again, “that I can’t offer you anything to eat or drink?”

Tobias slammed his waterskin onto the table, shaking his head very slowly.

“Ah fine.” The old man coughed to fill the awkward silence. Tobias’ eyes burned slowly through his flesh and into his soul. Abe’s hands pulled aimlessly at each other—nervously. Only the sound of clinking silverware and Motega’s slurping echoed within the empty tavern.

The paladin removed his eyes from the owner, confident that Abe had no more taint than any average man. “Not much of a business you have here.”

“What?!” Abe’s mouth dropped open.

“Well, I can’t testify for your food or drink,” the paladin admitted. He rubbed a finger along the back of his chair, lifting a layer of dust from its dark surface. “But, it doesn’t seem to me as if you have many customers. So, as I said, not much of a business you have here.”

Abe’s face flushed red, his lip trembling. “Now, look here. I’ve got a good business, an honest business here and I don’t need your disrespect.”

“No disrespect from me, ‘Honest’ Abe. I was just making a casual observation.”

“Times used to be different around here. Yeah, I’ve fallen on some hard times recently—not many travelers coming through. I still survive.”

“No doubt you do, Abe. But I was under the impression that there have been quite a number of visitors to this quaint sea-side town.” Tobias’ eyes flared again, peering through the barkeep’s soul. Abe flushed, taking a step back.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“And I think you’re lying.” Tobias shot a knowing glance toward Fitz, whose head was slowly falling into his hands; a look of exasperation marring his usually peaceful countenance.

“Fine,” whispered the cleric. His next words, pure and true, were quietly spoken. Fitz’s divine connection flared; a ring of light coalesced in the center of the table and expanded out past Abe before fading into nothing. The barkeep shook his balding head which had become suddenly, very dizzy.

Tobias glanced at Fitz, his thoughts confirmed by the priest’s downcast eyes. The spell had failed.

“Look here. I don’t need no traveling fools coming in here and casting spells left and right. You don’t need to cast a spell to see if I’m speaking the truth. For Morduk’s sake, I’m ‘Honest’ Abe. That’s not a title you earn by lying!”

“We don’t know you. We have to make sure,” spit Magnus.

“Not in my tavern you don’t! You can just get out now.”

“NO,” commanded the paladin. Tobias stood, his bulk dwarfing the barkeep. “We need information and you are going to give it to us. Where is Wembly?”

Abe stepped backward, a look of shock upon his face. Fitz slapped his own forehead in frustration.

 

[Funeris]

Chapter 11: Minetown (Continued)

“You can close your mouth, ‘Honest’ Abe.” Cynicism dripped from the paladin’s words as Abe reluctantly complied. “Now, where is Wembly? And what happened to the Whore’s Nag?”

“I…I…” the old man, looking as if he had just aged an additional decade, stuttered. He grasped a pitcher of water and sat amongst the heroes. Quickly he poured a drink, his hands aquiver. “I haven’t seen Wembly in nearly ten years…”

“What happened?” Tobias gripped the hilt of his sword, intimidating the barkeep just a little more.

“Wembly disappeared ten years ago…well, about ten years ago. I don’t know where to or why. She just vanished. And, after a time, when she didn’t return I just…just…”

“Stole her business?”

“No!” Abe cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “I was just holding it for her…in the event she ever returned.”

“And we should believe you because you’re ‘Honest’ Abe?” Tobias removed his hand from his hilt, crossing his arms over his chest to glare at the barkeep as an angry parent would a child.

“I swear…I don’t know anything else.”

“Fine. What can you tell us about the Culites that are here now?” Fitz’s hand reverberated again off his forehead. Shaking his head slightly, the priest rested it upon the table. His meal would remain unfinished. Motega and Magnus grinned slightly behind their drinks.

“Culites? I dunno…”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!!!” Tobias shoved the table, sliding it easily toward Abe and pressing him back, slightly. The Rorn and the mage set down their drinks, each drawing a dagger.

“I don’t know anything about the Culites! They come into town every now and then for supplies…that’s all. They take what they want—without paying. They’ve even taken people! And the Baronet won’t leave his manor…they’re the reason my business…I…I mean Wembly’s business is failing. They scare away the customers…the travelers.” The old man lowered his head, sobbing into his hands.

“Where are they now?” questioned Magnus, spinning the dagger on his palm.

Abe sighed as he looked up. “They spend most of their time in the mines to the north of the town.” Tobias sat again, a new tactic quickly forming in his mind. The paladin winked at Motega; the Rorn furrowed his brow. Reaching into his satchel, Tobias pulled out a medallion, which he then placed around his neck—Thyvron’s medallion; a Culite priests’ medallion.[1]

Abe’s eyes crossed in fear; Tobias just glared. “You…you…,” Abe stammered. “You work for them!”

Motega grinned as he turned on the barkeep. His quick Rorn reflexes snapped his hand out to grasp Abe hard on the shoulder. The dagger edged closer to the barkeep. “That’s right. Learn to hold your tongue Abe, or we might just have to remove it.” The Rorn grinned maliciously but then sheathed the blade. “Should we let him live?”

“He’s been warned, I think that’s enough,” Tobias decided. Motega sighed and grumbled, “Fine.”

“But…but…the questions…Wembly and…”

“Look, barkeep. We have contacts; we have information. Do not cross us.” Tobias stood. “Gentlemen, I believe its time to join our compatriots to the north.” The paladin led the party from the tavern.

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[1] - If you'll remember, Thyvron was a Culite that attacked us outside of Dun Moor. It was he and his posse that were responsible for ambushing and enslaving Caelyx. After we stomped them down (and nearly died in the process), Tobias took the Culite medallion (Thyvron was the only Culite priest--the others were hired goons). He had never intended to use it in this manner...and yet it did have some use.

This was one of my favorite moments of the game. Abe wasn't quite so honest as he claimed--and I could only go so far in my questioning. Remembering the medallion...Tobias pulled it out and strapped it around his neck. He allowed the rest of the party to talk for him (so he would not have to lie).

Unfortunately...this was so long ago (late 2004/early 2005) that my memory is fading. I can't remember exactly who said what...so...it seems quite abbreviated in this format. But I did remember the important points--Wembly vanished 10 years prior and the Culites were north within the mines.



~Fune