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Lazybones's Keep on the Shadowfell/Thunderspire Labyrinth
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4910926" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 78</p><p></p><p></p><p>It was quiet in the Seven-Pillared Hall. </p><p></p><p>Much of the earlier tensions that had suffused the settlement had faded. The Grimmerzhul were laying very low, keeping to the peace mandated by the Mages of Saruun. But even so, there was still much less casual traffic than had been evident when Jaron had first arrived. It seemed like such a long time ago, but when he tallied the days in his mind, he realized that it had only been a little more than a week since he had followed Vhael and the others into that dark tunnel embedded in the flank of Thunderspire. </p><p></p><p>The halfling sat on a low rise that overlooked the sweeping stream that bisected the Hall. The Halfmoon Inn was just a stone’s throw behind him; he knew better than to go off very far on his own, knew that for all their outward acceptance of the new status quo the Grimmerzhul would be all too happy to get their hands on him again. There was considerable activity in the open courtyard behind the inn, where his companions were preparing for their journey. But he’d needed a few minutes to himself, so after checking to make sure that Beetle wasn’t getting into trouble, he’d come over here to sit down and watch the water. </p><p></p><p>He was tired, but didn’t feel like more sleep. Indeed, that’s about all he’d done since their return from the Well of Demons, sleep and eat. The Halfmoons had been more than welcoming, their earlier gratitude redoubled when they’d returned the emaciated and weakened Rendil to his kin. </p><p></p><p>That mystery hadn’t been fully resolved, but he doubted he’d ever learn more than he had. The Mages were a conundrum, barely known even to the long-time residents of the Hall. When he’d been rescued, Rendil had told them that he’d been captured by the Grimmerzhul a few days before Jaron had left the Seven-Pillared Hall, seeking Mara. Jaron had asked a few questions, but the answers hadn’t done much to clear anything up, so he’d let the matter drop. </p><p> </p><p>Yarine was starting to recover, although she could still only walk for a few dozen paces on her own before exhaustion overcame her. But she was alive, and the gratitude that shone in her eyes when she looked at Jaron energized him every time he saw her. The other halflings from Fairhollow were in better shape, and good food and rest had done much to restore what had been taken from them by their ordeal. But Jaron was grateful for the fact that they wouldn’t all have to walk back to Fallcrest, or to Fairhollow from there.</p><p></p><p>He looked back over his shoulder, at the preparations going on behind the inn. The tiefling merchant stood off to the side, watching as his men helped to load up the two mule-drawn carts with supplies from the inn. The halflings from Fairhollow, finally presented with an activity they knew something about, were helping them, while Mara was adjusting sacks in the back of one of the carts to fashion a seat for Yarine. Vhael’s body, he knew, had already been stored; he knew which cart carried the dragonborn’s body from Gral, who hadn’t moved more than a few feet from it since they’d started loading. He also saw Carzen, walking toward him. </p><p></p><p>“Time to go?”</p><p></p><p>Carzen glanced back over his shoulder. Jaron noticed that his eyes lingered on Mara for a bit longer than they had on anything else. “Nah, it’ll be another ten minutes or so, if not longer. I thought you had the right idea, shirking work over here.” He grinned as he sat down next to Jaron. </p><p></p><p>“The merchant might get the wrong idea.”</p><p></p><p>“Bah. He’s getting the services of two trained, veteran fighters all the way to Fallcrest. Heroes that destroyed the infamous Bloodreavers, and a band of demon-worshipping gnolls, to boot. I don’t think he’ll be complaining.”</p><p></p><p>“Mara’s helping out.”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, but she has a work ethic, whereas I am an effete nobleman’s get.” He smiled, but Jaron saw that he glanced back again, followed the quick look to its target.</p><p></p><p>“I wonder where Mara will go once she gets to Fallcrest?” Jaron asked </p><p></p><p>“Not my concern,” Carzen replied, but Jaron had noted the slight hesitation before his reply. </p><p></p><p>“What of your fate? I suppose your father will be appreciative of your accomplishments on this mission.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe,” he said, in a way that made it seem dubious indeed. </p><p></p><p>“Well, I guess people like us don’t really do it for the accolades,” Jaron said. “And I suppose, if I were interested in commerce, that the contacts we’ve made here could be useful, knowledge that could be valuable in the right hands.”</p><p></p><p>“I’m just a soldier,” Carzen said, but as he rubbed his chin, his expression was thoughtful. After a moment, he shot a look at Jaron. “You know, there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, Jaron.”</p><p></p><p>“I’m just a farmer,” he said, with a grin. </p><p></p><p>Carzen smiled back. “You know, you and Beetle could stay in Fallcrest. Lots of opportunities there for someone with a keen eye and a sharp wit. I might even know someone who could help get you set up.”</p><p></p><p>Jaron shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m village folk, at heart. I don’t regret getting out into the bigger world, seeing what’s there, but Fairhollow is my home, and its people are my people.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, they’re lucky to have you. Beetle too. Where is he, anyway?”</p><p></p><p>“Around,” Jaron said. “He’ll be here when it’s time to leave. I’ve given up trying to keep him under control. He is who he is.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, we wouldn’t have done this without him. It’s been… interesting.”</p><p></p><p>“That it has been.” He looked up as the pitch of noise from the caravan shifted slightly, growing more frenetic. “Looks like they’re getting ready to leave.” </p><p></p><p>Carzen rose, and offered a hand to Jaron, to help him up. “I won’t be sorry to leave this place… but I don’t think I’ll soon forget it, either.”</p><p></p><p>Jaron nodded. “There are certain events in a man’s life that change him, for good or for ill.”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t suppose I know yet which it will be, yet.” They made their way back toward the caravan. Carzen’s eyes returned to Mara, who was helping Yarine get settled in the cart. The other halflings had gathered around, adjusting their packs. They all carried slings and daggers now, and walking staves provided by the Halfmoons. Rendil was there as well, chatting amiably, although they could also see Erra Halfmoon standing in the back doorway of the inn, watching everything with a hawk’s eyes. </p><p></p><p>“I think you’ll find out the answer to that when you get back,” Jaron finally said. “Often times a man needs to return to his old life to learn just how much he’s changed.”</p><p></p><p>Carzen nodded. His expression remained thoughtful as they rejoined the others, and they helped with the final packing and preparation of gear. Beetle appeared as they were setting out, just as Jaron had promised; the ranger pointedly ignored the bulging pockets of the other halfling. There were a lot of farewells, then some last-minute adjustments as the company set out, the mules finally giving way after some token protest, the carts creaking faintly as their wheels started into motion. Lamps were lit, while Gral, perched on the seat of the cart bearing the body of K’rol Vhael, lifted his staff, brightening their way with a globe of soft white light. It shone like a beacon as the group set out, returning to the Labyrinth one last time. It remained visible as the caravan crossed the Hall, then dwindled as the exit tunnel swallowed them up, finally diminishing to a point that eventually disappeared.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 4910926, member: 143"] Chapter 78 It was quiet in the Seven-Pillared Hall. Much of the earlier tensions that had suffused the settlement had faded. The Grimmerzhul were laying very low, keeping to the peace mandated by the Mages of Saruun. But even so, there was still much less casual traffic than had been evident when Jaron had first arrived. It seemed like such a long time ago, but when he tallied the days in his mind, he realized that it had only been a little more than a week since he had followed Vhael and the others into that dark tunnel embedded in the flank of Thunderspire. The halfling sat on a low rise that overlooked the sweeping stream that bisected the Hall. The Halfmoon Inn was just a stone’s throw behind him; he knew better than to go off very far on his own, knew that for all their outward acceptance of the new status quo the Grimmerzhul would be all too happy to get their hands on him again. There was considerable activity in the open courtyard behind the inn, where his companions were preparing for their journey. But he’d needed a few minutes to himself, so after checking to make sure that Beetle wasn’t getting into trouble, he’d come over here to sit down and watch the water. He was tired, but didn’t feel like more sleep. Indeed, that’s about all he’d done since their return from the Well of Demons, sleep and eat. The Halfmoons had been more than welcoming, their earlier gratitude redoubled when they’d returned the emaciated and weakened Rendil to his kin. That mystery hadn’t been fully resolved, but he doubted he’d ever learn more than he had. The Mages were a conundrum, barely known even to the long-time residents of the Hall. When he’d been rescued, Rendil had told them that he’d been captured by the Grimmerzhul a few days before Jaron had left the Seven-Pillared Hall, seeking Mara. Jaron had asked a few questions, but the answers hadn’t done much to clear anything up, so he’d let the matter drop. Yarine was starting to recover, although she could still only walk for a few dozen paces on her own before exhaustion overcame her. But she was alive, and the gratitude that shone in her eyes when she looked at Jaron energized him every time he saw her. The other halflings from Fairhollow were in better shape, and good food and rest had done much to restore what had been taken from them by their ordeal. But Jaron was grateful for the fact that they wouldn’t all have to walk back to Fallcrest, or to Fairhollow from there. He looked back over his shoulder, at the preparations going on behind the inn. The tiefling merchant stood off to the side, watching as his men helped to load up the two mule-drawn carts with supplies from the inn. The halflings from Fairhollow, finally presented with an activity they knew something about, were helping them, while Mara was adjusting sacks in the back of one of the carts to fashion a seat for Yarine. Vhael’s body, he knew, had already been stored; he knew which cart carried the dragonborn’s body from Gral, who hadn’t moved more than a few feet from it since they’d started loading. He also saw Carzen, walking toward him. “Time to go?” Carzen glanced back over his shoulder. Jaron noticed that his eyes lingered on Mara for a bit longer than they had on anything else. “Nah, it’ll be another ten minutes or so, if not longer. I thought you had the right idea, shirking work over here.” He grinned as he sat down next to Jaron. “The merchant might get the wrong idea.” “Bah. He’s getting the services of two trained, veteran fighters all the way to Fallcrest. Heroes that destroyed the infamous Bloodreavers, and a band of demon-worshipping gnolls, to boot. I don’t think he’ll be complaining.” “Mara’s helping out.” “Yeah, but she has a work ethic, whereas I am an effete nobleman’s get.” He smiled, but Jaron saw that he glanced back again, followed the quick look to its target. “I wonder where Mara will go once she gets to Fallcrest?” Jaron asked “Not my concern,” Carzen replied, but Jaron had noted the slight hesitation before his reply. “What of your fate? I suppose your father will be appreciative of your accomplishments on this mission.” “Maybe,” he said, in a way that made it seem dubious indeed. “Well, I guess people like us don’t really do it for the accolades,” Jaron said. “And I suppose, if I were interested in commerce, that the contacts we’ve made here could be useful, knowledge that could be valuable in the right hands.” “I’m just a soldier,” Carzen said, but as he rubbed his chin, his expression was thoughtful. After a moment, he shot a look at Jaron. “You know, there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, Jaron.” “I’m just a farmer,” he said, with a grin. Carzen smiled back. “You know, you and Beetle could stay in Fallcrest. Lots of opportunities there for someone with a keen eye and a sharp wit. I might even know someone who could help get you set up.” Jaron shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m village folk, at heart. I don’t regret getting out into the bigger world, seeing what’s there, but Fairhollow is my home, and its people are my people.” “Well, they’re lucky to have you. Beetle too. Where is he, anyway?” “Around,” Jaron said. “He’ll be here when it’s time to leave. I’ve given up trying to keep him under control. He is who he is.” “Well, we wouldn’t have done this without him. It’s been… interesting.” “That it has been.” He looked up as the pitch of noise from the caravan shifted slightly, growing more frenetic. “Looks like they’re getting ready to leave.” Carzen rose, and offered a hand to Jaron, to help him up. “I won’t be sorry to leave this place… but I don’t think I’ll soon forget it, either.” Jaron nodded. “There are certain events in a man’s life that change him, for good or for ill.” “I don’t suppose I know yet which it will be, yet.” They made their way back toward the caravan. Carzen’s eyes returned to Mara, who was helping Yarine get settled in the cart. The other halflings had gathered around, adjusting their packs. They all carried slings and daggers now, and walking staves provided by the Halfmoons. Rendil was there as well, chatting amiably, although they could also see Erra Halfmoon standing in the back doorway of the inn, watching everything with a hawk’s eyes. “I think you’ll find out the answer to that when you get back,” Jaron finally said. “Often times a man needs to return to his old life to learn just how much he’s changed.” Carzen nodded. His expression remained thoughtful as they rejoined the others, and they helped with the final packing and preparation of gear. Beetle appeared as they were setting out, just as Jaron had promised; the ranger pointedly ignored the bulging pockets of the other halfling. There were a lot of farewells, then some last-minute adjustments as the company set out, the mules finally giving way after some token protest, the carts creaking faintly as their wheels started into motion. Lamps were lit, while Gral, perched on the seat of the cart bearing the body of K’rol Vhael, lifted his staff, brightening their way with a globe of soft white light. It shone like a beacon as the group set out, returning to the Labyrinth one last time. It remained visible as the caravan crossed the Hall, then dwindled as the exit tunnel swallowed them up, finally diminishing to a point that eventually disappeared. [/QUOTE]
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