Return to Ironstorm Mountain

[Raylis]

[sblock=Raylis]
Loud footsteps can be heard approaching before the door is unceremoniously wrenched open, a huge figure appearing in it's place. For a briefest of seconds the half-orc doesn't register you, then taking a step back he turns his frown down upon you. "Yes, what is you want?" he asks in a gruff manner, obviously rubbing sleep from his eyes.[/sblock]

Oskas frowns, a half-orc. He resists the urge to cut down the orc then and there...but this "man" was at the milita house and he must be in charge... "I need information from the halls. he says plainly looking up at the half-orc's face, "The way to get there, the status of the path and any information on the King and Expedition that you have.

 

[-SIN-]

[sblock=Raylis]
"First you might want to address yourself and state your business, and whilst you're at it you might want to change the manner of your speech, unless you want to spend a night in one of my cells?...", barks the half-orc[/sblock]

[sblock=james heard]
The dirt-covered children brighten up at your approach, enchanted by the rich colours of your clothes, amd somewhat bemused by the style. "We dunno ma'am, was like it since 'fore we was born. Heard stories though...", he pauses, looking at the decoration's that adorn you for a moment, "you must be real rich ma'am, I never seen people dress like you before, it looks funny, but I like it", he finishes, eyeing you imploringly.[/sblock]

 

[Raylis]

"I am Oskas Runehammer son of Falthic and Inna, grandson of Oskar, 1st divison lietenant of the Runehammer Clanhome Militia. My business is to reclaim Ironstorm Halls, see a King placed back on the throne, reunite the clans back into the halls and take my place as a Defender. the dwarf says, puncuating his point by showing his shield and the crest on it.

 

[James Heard]

[sblock=james heard]
The dirt-covered children brighten up at your approach, enchanted by the rich colours of your clothes, amd somewhat bemused by the style. "We dunno ma'am, was like it since 'fore we was born. Heard stories though...", he pauses, looking at the decoration's that adorn you for a moment, "you must be real rich ma'am, I never seen people dress like you before, it looks funny, but I like it", he finishes, eyeing you imploringly.[/sblock]

"I liked it too, that's why I hunted down the person who last owned it and cut them into tiny little pieces while they slept. Why this here," Adun waves at her hat, "Belonged to a man, belike he begged me not to kill his children. I did not, but I made sure to slice off their bits and sell them to orcish slavers, as they thought to steal my purse while I was making a fair trade. Because that's what I do, you see? I hunt down people, and when I'm through with them none hunt them any longer.

"You'd probably not guess my familiar watching over me, Adun sings out a small whistling sound and calls her companion who flies to her shoulder in utter silence (OOC: Move Silently +21). " But he does. Wide eyes, they say, that see into the very souls of men.

Adun holds out her hand.

"If you've got anything you want to explain, now's the time. For your sake and the for the sake of everyone you hold dear and holy."

I hate children. They're like freakish little halflings with less sense that wet their beds. Ugh.

 

[EvolutionKB]

Darmon

Darmon listens to the dirty man speech with interest. He then turns and begins as if he were speaking to someone standing next to him. "Cursed? Bet you would have liked to know that before you went down there, huh? Putting you to rest might be a little harder than expected, but I like a challenge."

After Darmon is finished speaking to empty air, he turns and says to the man, "If this town is made of thieves and brigands, no wonder people disappear and shops fail. Law returns and catches those that hide here, and businesses fail because people can't keep their dirty hands off merchandise."

 

[Ancient History]

Keirgan gets himself a pint at the bar and then looks disspassionately around. Are there any story tellers or bards beside the old man? Anyone of arcane interest? If so he will approach them. Otherwise he will speak to the bartender.

"So what is the prison the old man is talking about? How long has it been there?"

 

[Scribbler]

Torgga raises an eyebrow as she looks at the man. The "curse" sounds like raving and superstition, but something else caught her attention.

"Prison? How is the mountain used as a prison? And by who?"

 

[Mellubb]

"It is lack of faith and disregard for heritage that curses that mountain. We go to see it restored to its old glory!!"

 

[-SIN-]

The old man jumps at the word as it passes Darnon's lips, "Cursed! Aye, it's cursed.... G'won, raise your brow, smile an' laugh. Why not laugh when ye cann'e understand?", his head whipping round from face to face, reading every expression. "Law aint got naught to do with missin people, an' the shops don't break from robbers and thieves. Robbers and thieves don't kidnap and burn, and there aint no law in Tommerast, so make of that what you will!.... An' as fer lack of faith!? Pah! You think the ol' king and his troops were short on faith?... Don't be naive, lest you want to join them! It's cursed! All this land along with it! Didn'cha see the ruins, are you all as blind as you are naive?" he spits, once again pausing, allowing his feverous moment to pass.

....meanwhile at the bar, but within earshot.

The barman pauses from his work, replacing the cleaned mug on a shelf running along the back wall before turning to Keirgan, "Ain't much to tell really, sir. Was built at least a few hun'erd years ago, from the remains of a Dwarven watch tower. That's about all I know, history like. What goes on there I doubt any can tell ye. No-one ever comes back from Ironstorm prison, besides guards and the caravan master that is. From what I hear, only the most dangerous felons end up there; murderers, rapists, killers and worse. That's why no-one's allowed near it. Not that anyone would want to climb all that way to visit a prison anyhow..."

 

[-SIN-]

[sblock=James Heard]The grubby youth steps back, the imploring look replaced by one of disappointment. "I thought you looked like a real hero when I first saw ya. Now I know you aint no different from the rest of 'em. They're all nasty. Never do nothin' for no-one. Take what you want. Throw away what ya don't. Jus' last week Pa got robbed for our food, and what did fat Lumbach do? Nothin', that's what! But I bet he had food on his table that night! You're jus' the same!" storms the youth, battling to hold back tears. "I just wanted to be your friend!” the words seemingly push him over the edge; covering his face with filthy hands he begins to sob uncontrollably...[/sblock]

[sblock=Raylis]"Lumbach Horsefist", he says, indicating himself, "I Captain the guard and uphold any decisions made by our magistrate, Keln Throgmorton, including mutilations and executions.", he finishes bluntly, obviously not impressed with your introduction, which seemed overly flamouiant in the orc-blooded captains simple view. "Now, Ironstorm...." he lets the word hang in the air before going on, "Truth be told, I'm not the one to be talking to. Aye, I know yer Dwarf kin came from the halls, runnin' away from some terrifying foe. Aye, I know a brave king once tried reclaimin' it, never to be seen or heard of again, him nor the 200 brave men who accompanied him. But they's just stories. You prolly heard them yourself when you was a striplin'. No, if you want details, best seek Madra, she knows most things o' the like you're askin'. Hadaro Melboa might know somethin', though he's a wily one.", he says the last name with a touch of anger. "As fer the road, you be needin' no directions. Straight north is where ye head, along the northern road known as 'Gallows Way' to us locals, but from there on you're stuck. I's not seen it myself, but the road was torn asunder when the earths shifted, 'bout the time your kin fled. Anyhow, now a great cleft separates the road from the mountain, so you'd have to either climb it or find the other route..."[/sblock]