The Kingdom of Caer Sidi, June 24th, AE 420
The party has been up for quite some time; they plane shifted here in the early evening, although it appears to be around noon here. They decide to push forward and march through to the edge of the forest. The trees have parted to form a meandering but easy path, and they make good time for the next several hours. Twilight comes early here, and seems to last far, far too long, making it difficult to estimate time. A light rain begins to fall as darkness approaches.
In the failing light, they see the wall of a fortified town ahead. Torch light illuminates buildings on the inside, but the gate is closed. As they approach the gate, those who can read elvish see a sign directly over the archway:
Welcome to Everbright.
Guards walk the walls above, cloaks pulled up to ward off the rain. Reana steps ups and knocks on the gate, and a small window slides open. A cloaked figure looks out on them, and speaks in a gruff elvish.
“Gate’s closed after nightfall. How be ye, and what be ye business?”
“We’re travellers from the west, looking for shelter,” Reana replies. “We’re passing through on our way to Duke Alfric’s lands.”
The gatekeeper looks them over, and finally relents. As he opens the gate to let them in, they are surprised to realize that he is a hobgoblin! A quick look around reveals that the guards on the walls are orcs and hobgoblins as well.
“Good thing I got rid of that Goblinsticker sword,” Gavin whispoers to Corwin.
Brennen engages the hobgoblin gatekeeper in conversation.
“Where would you suggest we look for lodging?” he asks, brandishing a few silver pieces.
“Definitely not from around here,” the gatekeeper mumbles, cryptically. “Ye’ll probably be looking for lodging up on the High Street. I hear the Riven Sword is good lodgin’s, I wouldn’t know meself, bit over me head cost-wise.”
The party leaves the gate, and makes their way up the deserted streets towards the Riven Sword Inn. They whisper urgently amongst themselves, trying to figure out what to think about this place. When they reach the Riven Sword itself, they find that it is a pleasant looking establishment, run by a hobgoblin in a starched white shirt and slicked back hair. Aris goes up to him to arrange for rooms.
“Good evenin’ sirs! What can I do for you on this unpleasant evening?” the innkeeper says to the perplexed elf.
“We need rooms,” Aris responds.
“I have three left this evening, they’ll be two gold apiece.”
Aris relaxes a little bit. They had been concerned that the economic system here might be too different and that they might not have any suitable coinage. The innkeeper takes Aris’ coin, and looks it over closely.
“We’re not from these parts,” Aris offers by way of explanation. “We came from the forest west of here.”
“Broadleaf Forest?” the innkeeper reponds. “Hmm, I suppose there are Thendar out that way,” he replies, motioning to the humans in the group, Brennen, Gavin and Corwin.
“Thendar?” Aris asks Corwin after they get a moment alone.
Corwin has been reading the elvish novel in order to try and glean any customs and other information that might be hidden in its overdone prose.
“There is a character in the book called a ‘Thendar’,” Corwin says. “He’s not given much of a physical description, but he’s a wizard who advises and aids the hero on some of his quests. A generally helpful fellow.”
The bar area of the Inn is populated primarily by a variety of middle-class and upper-middle-class looking hobgoblins, well dressed and well-mannered. Jovah joins in a few games of chance for the express purpose of losing a few gold pieces and finding out what the coin systems is. He manages to exchange a few gold coins and gets back copper in exchange, at a rate of 10-1. No silver changes hands. Jovah tosses a couple silver into the pot, and gets a few raised eyebrows.
“Don’t use that ‘round these parts,” one of the hobgoblins says, and Jovah cheerfully picks his silver back up.
Aris returns to the innkeeper to ask a couple more questions.
“Have you seen any other Thendar in these parts recently?”
The hobgoblin scowls for a minute, thinking. “There were a couple that came through here a few days back. They went on to Duke Alfric’s castle.”
“I see,” Aris says.
He is about to ask another question, but is interrupted by the door slamming open in the rain. Out fo the darkness steps a figure in bronze full plate armor. He removes his helmet after getting inside. He is an elf, a high elf as far as Aris can tell. He shares the same complexion and dark hair color as the majority of high elves, at least. Following him into the room is another elf, this oine wearing bronze chain mail.
“Bronze chain mail?” Gavin says. “I wouldn’t have thought you could make chainmail out of bronze.”
The second elf appears to be a kind of squire to the first, and sets immediately to drying off the first elf’s armor. A third figure steps into the room. This one is an orc. He wears a bronze breastplate, and has a bow slung over his back, along with four massive suitaces and trunks. He is so loaded down with luggage he has to step sideways to get through the door. He also wears a bronze collar about his neck.
“Lord Evan!” the innkeeper exclaims in greetings. “What can I do for you?”
“Rooms,” the Elvish lord states bluntly. “We need two rooms for the night.”
“Uhh, sir, I’m afraid I just rented out the last rooms to these fine fellows…”
Lord Evan looks Aris up and down, and then looks around at the others.
“Well, just kick them out, then.”
“Uhh, pardon me sir,” the innkeeper says to Aris. “I’m very sorry and all… Perhaps… I’ll give you half off on the one room if you’ll give up the other two?”
Aris nods, and holds out his hand for his refund of five gold, attempting to make it very clear to Lord Evan who is being put out of a room.
“Glad to be of any help,” he says, with a hint of sarcasm.
“Good to see you know your place,” Lord Evan replies, and turns and heads upstairs to his rooms.
