Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 211
the Eye of the Storm
Ernie stares up at the centaur standing above him. He looks a bit sheepish.
“The storm is mad at you,” he says. Mercury frowns.
“And what cause did I give the storm to be angry?”
“I don’t think you did,” says Ernie, coloring. “But…uh…”
“The storm thinks we’re connected to you somehow,” says Aravis. “We came through its territory.”
“You came from the… fascinating!” says Mercury. “You’ll have to review our map for accuracy!”
Dranko perks up. “You have a map? Sure! We’d love to get a look at it.”
The centaur takes a moment just looking down at Dranko, Ernie and Aravis, sizing them up. He starts up a conversation along the same lines as did the woman – where did they come from, what are their intentions, that sort of thing. When the three from the Company state that they not only came into this maze of planar bits on purpose, but also have an idea of who’s behind it, Mercury’s eyes go wide with interest. Either from hope, or trust, or some combination of the two, he bids that the three of them be set loose.
Aravis clears his throat as he gets to his feet.
“And now that we’ve gained your trust…well, we didn’t trust you, either. There are more than just the three of us.”
“And do any of your friends have hostile intent towards us?” asks Mercury, starting intently at the wizard.
“No. But we couldn’t risk exposing the whole group, in case you had hostile intent.”
“I’m just the cannon fodder,” adds Dranko.
Mercury grins at them.
“You must adventure for a living,” he says.
“Not so much a living as a calling,” says Aravis.
“And we wish it would stop calling!” pipes up Ernie.
“We can always use more of your type here,” says Mercury. “And it sounds like you have a particularly interesting story to tell. So, where are the rest of you.”
The others have congregated nearby, and now they drop their invisibility spells. Morningstar wafts gently down from above.
“Ah,” says Mercury. ”Experienced adventurers.”
Dranko and Ernie suggest that some additional defenses might be good, to protect against the kind of incursion the party managed. Aravis realizes that no matter what the defenders do, there will always be a way around it unless they’re prepared to just wall the portal up. He says as much.
Mercury nods. “Yes, the only sure way would be to block off the Way entirely, but of course we dare not do that.”
This comment piques the party’s curiosity, given the orcs’ terror when Kibi briefly blocked a portal with a wall of force.
“We’ve heard that before,” says Aravis. But no one follows up on the subject, and the conversation meanders to other things as they head away from the portal. Of the many people who came running at the bell, a dozen or so walk back in a crowd around them, chattering. The Company can only understand Mercury, except for Kibi who still is under the effect of tongues. The dwarf listens in on some of the talk, and finds that (no surprise) they are the topic of conversation. The folk wonder where the party truly came from, and how powerful they are.
“They look like strong adventurers,” says one. “It’s always good to get their type, to help defend the Inn.”
The terrain is not as lush as the storm world, or as forested as Green Valley, but it’s pleasant enough. The party spies a small herd of cows on a nearby hill, and a farmer waves down at them. The sun looks more like their own than many they’ve seen, and the air is cool and fragrant with new flowers. Ernie figures it’s late spring.
“Are you getting older?” he asks Mercury.
“No, and neither are you, I suspect. But you’ll still be hungry. When we get back, we’ll get you something to eat, and there are plenty of rooms.”
“It’ll be nice to eat something someone else has cooked,” admits Ernie.
“We have an excellent cook!” Mercury says, beaming. “Her name is Spinnizia. She’s been with us seven years or so.”
“I’m a cook too!” says Ernie, unable to help himself. “And I have a bunch of spices to share.”
“I’m sure Spinnizia will appreciate talking with someone else who’s a master of the art. As for the spices, that will be for you and her to discuss. Though once you’ve had some food and drink yourselves, we can all have a good chat about other matters. I’m sure Aristus and Gloriana will be eager to question you about your origins. If you really know what’s causing all of this… well, that’s very exciting!”
“We’re pretty sure we know who, if not exactly what," says Morningstar. Then, because she’s curious, she asks, “How many of you are adventurers?
“If I use the term loosely, maybe… fifteen? There are the three of us who founded the place, and some others have come through over the years. They come and go.”
Dranko smiles and fails to resist the opportunity to boast. “The last time we saw that many together, it was when we fought the dragon during the war.”
“You fought a dragon!” exclaims Mercury, though whether he’s truly impressed or just trying to make Dranko feel good, no one knows for sure.
“Yeah. It was insane,” adds Dranko.
“I’m sure you’ll have many good stories to entertain the common room,” says Mercury.
“How long have you been here?” asks Ernie.
“Fourteen years.”
“You sick of it yet?” asks Dranko.
“Sometimes. How long have you been here?”
“Just a couple of months,” answers Dranko. “And most of that was spent training.”
“Where do people here come from?” asks Ernie.
“There are two main avenues -- some come from the Formian areas, and some come from the Demonic Slices. You’re the first to come through the Way from the Slice with the storm.”
“And against whom do you defend your inn?” asks Kibi. “Demons, then?”
“We’ve had numerous encounters over the years. Twice it was Demons. Fortunately they are discomfited by the distance from their home Slices.”
“Why do you call them ‘Slices?’” asks Ernie.
“Aristus calls them that. It seems like what they are – slices of worlds, patched together.”
“I like it!” says Ernie. “It makes me think of food.” Then, blushing a bit: “okay, I admit, everything makes me think of food.”
There’s a good laugh all around. The group is cresting a final hill, following a cleared footpath that winds its way up via gentle switchbacks. When they reach its top and start to descend the far side, they get their first glimpse of the inn. It’s huge, as large as a lord’s mansion, if not bigger. From this distance and vantage, the Company can see that there’s an original structure at its center that was probably a smaller original building. It’s been added to and expanded in various haphazard architectural styles. It almost looks like a tiny little town with all its buildings mashed together. The last light of the setting sun illuminates it across a flat grassy field, and cheery lights burn in its dozens of windows.
“We’re never going to leave it one piece,” mutters Aravis, shaking his head.
“With that many wings, we’d never destroy all of it!” says Dranko.
“I hope you don’t destroy any of it!” exclaims Mercury.
“Oh, it’s never on purpose,” says Dranko.
“And it’s never our fault,” adds Aravis.
“Don’t you think I know how it is?” laughs Mercury. “I’ve spent most of my adult life adventuring.”
“Did you destroy any inns?” asks Grey Wolf.
“Well, it depends on how you define ‘destroy.’”
“I like this guy!” exclaims Dranko.
For the rest of the walk down the hill, the Company regales their host with the tale of how the furniture in a Kivian tavern came to life and attacked them. There is laughter, and knowing grins, and Mercury asks for all the details of the statue that came to life, and the animated coach that ran over poor Grey Wolf. Telling tales to a fellow campaigner, the Company for the first time since Green Valley is truly at ease.
There are plenty of people milling around the vicinity of the inn; they’re doing chores, carrying farming implements, rolling barrels, leading livestock on ropes, that sort of thing. Many are human, and many are not. Most stop to stare at the Company, but typically this is followed by a wave and a smile. Kibi’s nose tells him that a small building across a small street from the larger inn is a distillery. Mercury pokes his head into the door.
“How are we doing in there?” he calls.
“Still a couple of days before the next batch is done,” a gruff voice answers, again in that translated Charagan common. “Gonna be good stuff, though, when it’s finished.”
“Good, good,” answers Mercury. “We have nine more guests arriving, and a stout lot they are by the look of them. They’re going to be thirsty!”
The voice inside laughs a hearty laugh.
A minute later the Company stands at the wide wooden doors of the sprawling inn. A large painted sign above the doors names the place “Eye of the Storm.” Inside is an enormous commons – the entire original inn, in fact. It’s nearly a hundred feet on a side, supported by thick wooden beams. Dozens of people roam around it, or sit at tables eating and drinking. The smells of good food wafts from a kitchen at the back – meats, potatoes, garlic, savory vegetables.
Kibi pinches himself.
“Am I dreaming?”
Once the Company is seated Mercury trots off to find his friends Aristus and Gloriana. Dranko sees that there is a large piece of yellow parchment tacked to the far wall, but before he can even rise to go take a look, a huge creature comes ducking (literally) out of a nearby side-door. It’s over eight feet tall, with short brown fur covering its body and two huge curved horns jutting from its bull’s head.
“A minotaur!” breathes Ernie.
It comes stomping right over to them, rattling the mugs on their table.
“Hey there!” bellows the minotaur. “You must be the new guys!” He winks at Morningstar. “And the new gal!” he adds. “Nice to see ya!”
“I’m Ernie! What’s your name?”
“I’m Horny.”
Before Dranko can even comment, the minotaur says, “Nooooooo jokes about it, either.”
“We’re going to get along great!” says Dranko, grinning widely.
“Why would we joke about it?” asks Aravis innocently.
Horny looks down at Aravis and starts laughing uproariously, as if the wizard has just made the funniest joke imaginable. He reaches out to shake Aravis’s hand, but pulls back suddenly as he sees the star-field eye-sockets.
“Woooooaaaaa!” he exclaims. “And who are you?”
“I’m Aravis.”
“Aravis, is it safe to shake your hand?”
“I don’t know. I don’t shake my hand.”
“HA! I’ll take my chances. Put ‘er there!”
Crunch! Horny’s handshake is finger-bruisingly vigorous. Many hands are crushed in the minotaur’s powerful grip. Ernie makes a point of squeezing back, prompting Horny to comment.
“Whoa! You pack a lot in that little package, don’t ya?”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Horny,” says Ernie, just a big smugly.
With the introductions out of the way, Horny leans over the table and clears his throat.
“Now. While you’re here, here are the rules. Just one rule, actually. The rule is: don’t piss me off, or I’ll kick your ass outta here. Got that?”
“What sorts of things would make you mad?” asks Ernie.
“Just use your head. If you think something will tick me off, it probably will.”
“Is this your inn?” asks Kibi.
“My inn? Hell no!” says Horny. “It’s Mercury’s inn. His, and Gloriana’s, and Aristus’s.”
“A word of advice,” says Aravis, grinning. He points at Dranko. “Save yourself the trouble and just kick him out right now.”
“All right!” roars Horny. He tromps around the table to where Dranko is sitting, but instead of throwing the half-orc out, he asks, “What do you say to that? You gonna sit there and take that from your pal there? Heh heh heh.”
Dranko shrugs his shoulders, then quick as lightning un-slings his whip and lashes out, yanking Aravis’s chair out from under him. Aravis barely leaps up in time to avoid falling over.
“What the hell is that thing?” asks Horny. “Looks like my tail!”
“He’s very good with it,” says Ernie. “He very seldom puts his own eye out.”
Food and drink is brought to the Company in great quantities. Horny informs them that the Inn doesn’t use money; the party will be expected to pay for room and board with services, helping out around the inn with chores, and (most likely) being assigned to guard duty at one of the Ways. In between bites of surprisingly good bread, Ernie asks:
“Where are you from, Mr. Horny?”
“I’m from a place called Perrik. Nice place. Least, it was.”
“What happened to it?” asks Dranko.
“Well, I’m sure it’s still just fine,” says Horny. “But my little piece of it got bitten off. Made my way through the Formian territory ‘til I got here.”
“Formians?” asks Grey Wolf.
“Ants,” says Horny. “Crazy things. Kind of like Mercury, but instead of being a man and a horse, they’re like… well, mostly ant, but with a straight-up torso like you guys.”
“That’s just wrong,” Dranko sympathizes.
“Tell me about it! They’re freaky! You don’t want to piss ‘em off, though. I mean, I could pulverize one or two of ‘em, but there’re a lot of em. And they’re pretty strong. You know how a normal ant can carry around a crumb the size of itself? Imagine if the ant was as big as you!”
Horny looks back at Aravis, and abruptly changes the subject,
“What is that, anyway.”
“It’s a magical artifact,” Aravis explains simply.
“Right. Well, don’t set it off in here.”
Aravis nods.
“Now, if you fine people will excuse me, I got some other chores to do. There are rooms for you upstairs, one for each of you if you want. It’s been a light month, and people are leaving more or less at the same rate they’re showing up. Lots of people choose to stay, and others get restless and go off, to try to find out what’s going on. Usually through the ‘Gate of No Return’ – it’s like roulette – but some go into the demon slices. Well, nice to meet ya!”
As he turns to go, Ernie asks one more question.
“Mr. Horny, have you ever seen anyone wearing clothing with black circles on them?”
“Not that I remember,” says Horny.
“What about orcs?” asks Kibi. “Have you had trouble with the orcs?”
“Orcs?” asks Horny, scratching his head. Then: “Oh! You must be talking about the orcish hub. No, we ain’t seen any orcs. They’d never make it this far. The Storm would eat ‘em, right?”
And laughing at this last image, Horny stomps away, leaving the Company with plates full of food, mugs full of ale, and heads full of a hundred questions.
…to be continued…
I have to disagree with PCat that the last game was "not their finest moment." Thanks to some quick thinking on the part of the PCs, they saved the lives of hundreds of innocents under some pretty extreme pressure.
