I hope all my faithful readers out there (I can't remember if there are 5 or 6 of you
) are content to read all of the goings on in town for the next few posts. Chronologically, the party only spent about two weeks in Glynden, but during that time, an incredible amount of important stuff happened. It didn't involve any combat (well, hardly any) but a great deal of crucial information was revealed from all kinds of different sources, both expected and unexpected.
If you are reading my Story Hour for the action, you would do better to go elsewhere for a bit (I personally recomment Dr. Midnight's Story Hour). But if you want to see a giant tangle of plot threads get dumped into the party's lap and watch them try to figure out where to start trying to unravel it, stay tuned.
Distrust, Betrayal and Oathbreaking Part 2: Homecoming
The journey back to Glynden moved at a good pace considering how heavy their load was. All of them seemed anxious to get home didn’t mind travelling into the evening a bit. The days grew longer as winter released its icy grip on the northlands and that too allowed a bit more daylight to travel in.
The group mostly journeyed in silence. This was unsurprising considering that the majority of them were somewhat loners to begin with. Rhys was the only one of the bunch who was generally more gregarious. But he too remained quiet and pensive, spending his long waking hours deep in thought about his new form and what impact it was to have on his life.
In the evenings, all were tired and the conversations were short and mostly concerning mundane details such as what they would eat (Speaks had no trouble providing them sustenance in the form of Goodberries but the Dwarf especially wanted something a bit more substantial to eat). None of the group had the energy or inclination to hare off trying to hunt, so they resolved to push on as quickly as possible in order that they might get back to Glynden (and a nice juicy steak) as soon as possible.
When the conversation did stray from the topic of dinner (or lack thereof), it mostly came to rest on the fate of the treasure they carried. Further examination of the silver bars had revealed that all were stamped with a stylized “AS” mark. This was a clear indication that they had been mined and minted at the Aquae Sulis smelting works by those who dwelled there before they were killed or put to flight by the Gnolls and Barbarians.
What was not so clear was what implications this had for the further dispensation of the bars. Raven was firmly of the belief that the bars should be turned over to the Glynden Council to determine their rightful ownership. Speaks felt on the other hand that had the party not paid in blood for them, the bars would have remained buried beneath the smelting works for who knows how long. The town was gaining the use of the mine once again and that should be plenty enough treasure to satisfy them.
Having had some small amount of contact with the miners of Glynden, Rhys could say for certain that the bars would have been considered property of the mine had they been rescued just a few short weeks or months after the town fell. But six years had passed since the conquering of Aquae Sulis and he was far from certain as to what attitude the town would hold about them now. Scar had little opinion on the matter for the time being. Ultimately it was determined that the bars would be handed over to the Council and they would decide the matter.
As the afternoon grew late on the third day of their trek, they began to see familiar landmarks and knew that they would make it to town by dark. Rhys seemed more uneasy than ever and when they stopped for a brief rest, he spoke to Speaks. He explained that he still wasn’t sure how his family and friends (especially Isabeau) would react to his new form. He wanted a bit more time to mull things over before he was confronted with that meeting and asked if he could camp out at Speaks’ wolf cave outside town. Speaks agreed to this and Rhys parted with the company. No one noted that he walked with a slight limp, almost as though a five pound silver bar was tucked down his pants leg.
An hour later, they rolled their carts up to the gates of Glynden just as the bell sounded. They passed through the gate and into the street and courtyard beyond. A crowd began to gather immediately as people recognized Speaks With Stone (after he returned to human form from that of a pony). The muttering of the crowd became somewhat of a concerned rumble as it started to be noted who his companions were and who was missing.
Kyndalyn soon approached and spoke to the party. He asked about Krase and Rhys. With a voice heavy with remorse, Speaks briefly explained that Krase hadn’t made it and that Rhys was “alive, but having some difficulties at the moment that make him reluctant to return to town”.
At precisely that moment, Krase’s father pushed through the crowd to where the group stood. “Where’s Krase? Where is my son?” His voice already quivered with worry and anticipation of the bad news.
Speaks, feeling more uncomfortable than ever at having to be the spokesperson for the group, quietly replied, “He died a heroic death, fighting the Gnolls in Aquae Sulis. He died fighting their greatest champion.”
Krase’s father stood dumbstruck at the news, confused, angry and silent. Speaks held forth a bundle of things from which protruded the twin hilts of Krase’s short swords and Hawk’s Wrath, the finely crafted bow given to Krase by the Allmani in recognition of his dutiful service during the Winter War. Krase’s father accepted the bundle numbly. The crowd had grown quiet and the sound of Krase’s mother, weeping could plainly be heard.
That sound seemed to snap Krase’s father from his catatonic stare. “Damn that father of mine and his bloody Dwarven friend! Damn those foolish tales of adventure they put in his head! Why couldn’t he just stay in town and learn a trade instead of poking around the Western Wilds where he was bound to be killed someday! Well, that day has come. Now his mother and I won’t have to lie awake at night wondering if he’s coming home. Because he isn’t. Ever.” With that, the man turned his back on the party. He collected his wife from the group of women who had gathered to support her. Together, they staggered back to the tannery, forever wounded.
There were more rumblings from the crowd but the incident with Krase’s father had left many of them without words. They began to slowly scatter to spread the news: Glynden’s greatest hero since Kyndalyn the Elder and Farinmail was dead.
Kyndalyn the Younger returned his attention to Speaks. “Perhaps it would be best if I gather the Council and you can speak to all of us at once. I’ll send riders to the Castellans to summon them. We’ll meet tonight at Nan’s if that is all right with you.”
Speaks responded, “It is. We also…bring this silver. We are unsure if it should belong to us or to the town or to the previous miners of Aquae Sulis. We will leave it to the Council to decide.”
Kyndalyn eyed the pair of carts laden with silver bars. “I’ll put it under guard until the Council meets with you, yes?”
Speaks nodded his head in assent. Kyndalyn quickly detailed a handful of guards to roll the carts out of the marketplace and over to the barracks.
As the crowd dispersed, the group could now see that the market, usually vacant this time of year, contained several wagons and tents. Speaks immediately recognized the lead wagon as belonging to the jovial elven merchant, Tadius Silvanus. In years prior, Tadius had always traveled with only one wagon but apparently he had decided to expand his operation.
Accompanying the larger number of wagons were they type of rugged men who typically hired themselves out as guards on the dangerous road from Oar. As Speaks gaze swept across the group of mercenaries, an approaching female figure caught his eye and brought a smile to his lips.
"Hello big brother! Your beard is so long, I barely recognized you!" spoke the young woman.
"Tarsheeva! It is so good to see you!" Speaks embraced his little sister. It had been years since he had seen her back in Oar. "Are you one of the guards Tadius has hired to guard his new train of wagons?"
"One of the guards? Yes! I'm the captain of these guards!" Tarsheeva spoke with pride.
"Captain? You've done well for yourself, little sister!"
"Not so little as I once was," replied Tarsheeva. And she spoke the truth. As they embraced, Speaks could tell that his once slight and wiry sister had grown into a strong young warrior. The broadsword hanging at her belt wasn't fancy but the pommel had plenty of the scratches that come from much practice and use.
Speaks briefly introduced Tarsheeva to his companions and then they decided to part ways for a few hours until their scheduled meeting with the Council at Nan's. Scar returned to the abbey of St. Cuthbert to check in with Father Tomas. Raven went to Nan's and secured a room for himself for the next couple of weeks.
Speaks and Tarsheeva spent some time getting reacquainted. They sat on the tail of one of Tadius' wagons and caught up on the last few years. Tarsheeva had gone from being one of the Temple Guard (Speaks' and Tarsheeva's mother is a priestess of some standing in the Church of Obad'Hai) to becoming a caravan guard for the wagon trains that ran between Oar and the small towns that dotted the northern coast of the Crescent Sea. She had even spent some time as a merchant marine, serving on a trade ship between Oar and Emor. It was then that she assembled the handful of men that formed the core of her mercenary group of caravan guards. Her natural magnetism and cool head under stress made her their improbable choice as leader.
As her group began looking for a contract with one of the local merchants in Oar, she caught wind of Tadius who was seeking a group to guard his wagons on the road to Glynden. He was paying abnormally well so she jumped at the chance to take the contract, especially since it would take her to Glynden where her big brother was currently living.
Tarsheeva also brought greetings from their mother. As Tarsheeva had been leaving Oar, their mother had seemed edgy and stressed. She had mentioned something about "foul portents" or "ill omens" and warned Tarsheeva to be extremely careful on her trip to the Northlands.
(Speaks' mother had wanted him to follow in her footsteps within the Church of Obad'Hai when he was young. His affinity for nature was obvious even then. But Speaks [his name was Quintus back then] was still traumatized by the death of his father at the hands of some mysterious "bloodshadows" and he didn't always get along well with strangers. His mother had him tested and admitted to the order of Druids who helped him develop his link with nature in a less organized structure than the Church.)
As they spoke, Tadius appeared and cheerfully greeted Speaks. He had already heard the rumors about the death of Krase and offered his condolences. Speaks thanked him and then asked if he would mind paying a visit out to his place in the woods to speak to Rhys. He revealed little to Tadius except for the fact that he thought that Rhys could use Tadius' wisdom at the moment. Tadius gladly agreed and it was decided that both he and Tarsheeva would come with Speaks back to his woodland home that evening after the meeting with the council.
NEXT: Distrust, Betrayal and Oathbreaking Part 3: Rumblings
And don't ask about my mood.
