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Sniktch's Story Hour - City of the Spider Queen (Updated 04/25)
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<blockquote data-quote="Sniktch" data-source="post: 400180" data-attributes="member: 7704"><p><strong>The meeting with Lord Bryson</strong></p><p></p><p>Artimas awoke with a faintly throbbing headache. Good lord, was he hung over? He almost never drank anything stronger than herbal tea, he couldn’t imagine why he felt so bad now. Oh yes, of course, the wine. They had found that bottle of wine, almost 500 years old, and he had been unable to resist. Well, certainly the others felt worse than he.</p><p></p><p>He rose slowly from bed, glancing at the open spellbook on the small desk. It would be no use to try to study now, he would have to wait until his mind cleared a little. Stumbling toward the chair, he grabbed his long robe and began to pull it on. At least he had had the sense to undress before collapsing last night. The robes reeked faintly of wine and sweat, but his clean clothes were in the wagon. He could wait to change. He ran his hands twice through his hair, sweeping it back from his eyes, placed his spectacles on the bridge of his nose, and exited the small room. The smell of eggs and ham wafted through the floorboards, making him slightly ill. He caught his breath and turned the small ring on his right index finger. Ah, well, at least he did not have to try to eat, the magic of the ring saved him that indignity. </p><p></p><p>“Ah, you are awake at last, and the first too. I was growing worried – we need to depart soon.” Startled, Artimas turned and beheld a slender figure rising from a chair in the hallway. A sullen elf with cropped black hair wearing non-descript leathers stepped forward, speaking to him. “The horses have been ready for an hour.”</p><p></p><p>“Horses? Depart? What are you talking about?” Artimas had a vague memory of the elf joining their revel last night, of a discussion, an agreement, but he could not remember now.</p><p></p><p>“We spoke of this last night, don’t you remember? Were you really so drunk that you don’t remember?” A slight sneer as the elf spoke. He was obviously trying to hide his distaste. “You agreed to come with me to meet Lord Bryson and speak of the drow activity on his lands.”</p><p></p><p>Behind the elf, a small bald figure suddenly emerged from the shadows, startling them both. Welby slipped around the elf and stepped close to Artimas, whispering, “It’s true. Malobar works for Bryson. He asked us to come. We agreed. I will go. The others sleep still. I will wake them.” Turning, the halfling stepped back into the shadows and disappeared.</p><p></p><p>Artimas turned back to the elf, Malobar. “It does seem we have an arrangement. Come downstairs with me and I will buy you breakfast while we wait for the others. They probably won’t be long, except for Grick.”</p><p></p><p>It would be a little over an hour before they set out, Artimas being correct about the time needed to rouse the sleeping half-orc. Before they left, he was re-acquainted with the discussion of the night before. Drow had surfaced and made a couple of raids against the farming community surrounding the Broken Hills. This was the first sighting of dark elves in this area for over a hundred years, and the lord of the barony was understandably concerned. He wanted a group of seasoned adventurers to try to track the drow back to their lair and discover what had roused them. </p><p></p><p>The trip back to Lord Bryson’s plantation was pleasant and uneventful. The long winter had released at last the land from her grip, and the land was thick with the first lush carpet of spring. Artimas let the horses run at their own pace, pulling the wagon along behind them, enjoying the cool air as it tickled his cheeks and tugged at his whiskers. Soon enough the journey ended and they stood before the beautiful stone manor house. Malobar knocked at the door and they were greeted by Lord Bryson himself, a huge bear of a man with curly black hair whose eyes lit at the sight of the solemn elf before him. “Greetings, Malobar! It is good fortune that you were able to return so quickly, for the drow have not been silent this past week. Indeed, there was a raid just two nights ago, and I would have them ended. But we will not discuss this here. Come!” He gestured for them to follow. “Let us go the parlor, and there speak of the task at hand in comfort, at least.”</p><p></p><p>Following the great lord as he strode away, they soon came to a pleasant room with great glass windows facing the northern hills and great cushioned couches turned to face outside. Lord Bryson waited for them to be comfortable and for introductions to be made before speaking. “I am sure Malobar has explained the reason I have sent for you – “</p><p></p><p>The harsh tones of Stumpwater Jack cut him off, drawing a vicious glare from the elf. “Aye, he did. Said you got some black weeds that need pulling! Just point us the way and we’ll take care of it.” Jack patted the long oaken handle of his axe affectionately. “I’m not much fer talking about it, and me axe is anxious to get to work.”</p><p></p><p>Malobar started to respond but Lord Bryson cut him off with a wave and a shrug. “Yes, very well then. My scouts have traced the raiders back to an ancient burial site in the Broken Hills known as the Dorien Crypts. These have been long rumored to be haunted, but I have never had trouble from that direction before and thus saw little point in investigating, so I know little about them. There must be an entrance to the Underdark, though, hidden under the hill, that the raiders are using to gain access to the lands. The task I would have you perform is simple – track the raiders back to their home and make sure that my people never face this danger again.”</p><p></p><p>“And what incentive would we have to carry out your wishes?” asked Artimas.</p><p></p><p>Malobar whirled upon him, “You dare address Lord Bryson in such – “</p><p></p><p>Lord Bryson cut him off, “Now, Malobar, I do not blame their asking, and was prepared for it. I am ready to pay you five thousand gold nobles to accept this task, and I am also willing to equip you well from the library of clerical scrolls we keep in the manor chapel.”</p><p></p><p>Artimas turned and saw the others nodding. It was a fair offer. He turned back to Lord Bryson. “Agreed. If you will supply us with a map or directions to the crypt, we will depart in the morning.”</p><p></p><p>“I will do slightly better than that, Artimas, I will send Malobar with you. Malobar, you must show these bold heroes to the crypts, and stay with them and help them in any way you can.”</p><p></p><p>Malobar nodded, “As you wish, my lord.”</p><p></p><p>That night the companions talked long into the night, unable to sleep, facing the old familiar butterflies once more. Finally after the long winter of inactivity, they were going to face the unknown once again. Tomorrow their adventure would begin.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sniktch, post: 400180, member: 7704"] [b]The meeting with Lord Bryson[/b] Artimas awoke with a faintly throbbing headache. Good lord, was he hung over? He almost never drank anything stronger than herbal tea, he couldn’t imagine why he felt so bad now. Oh yes, of course, the wine. They had found that bottle of wine, almost 500 years old, and he had been unable to resist. Well, certainly the others felt worse than he. He rose slowly from bed, glancing at the open spellbook on the small desk. It would be no use to try to study now, he would have to wait until his mind cleared a little. Stumbling toward the chair, he grabbed his long robe and began to pull it on. At least he had had the sense to undress before collapsing last night. The robes reeked faintly of wine and sweat, but his clean clothes were in the wagon. He could wait to change. He ran his hands twice through his hair, sweeping it back from his eyes, placed his spectacles on the bridge of his nose, and exited the small room. The smell of eggs and ham wafted through the floorboards, making him slightly ill. He caught his breath and turned the small ring on his right index finger. Ah, well, at least he did not have to try to eat, the magic of the ring saved him that indignity. “Ah, you are awake at last, and the first too. I was growing worried – we need to depart soon.” Startled, Artimas turned and beheld a slender figure rising from a chair in the hallway. A sullen elf with cropped black hair wearing non-descript leathers stepped forward, speaking to him. “The horses have been ready for an hour.” “Horses? Depart? What are you talking about?” Artimas had a vague memory of the elf joining their revel last night, of a discussion, an agreement, but he could not remember now. “We spoke of this last night, don’t you remember? Were you really so drunk that you don’t remember?” A slight sneer as the elf spoke. He was obviously trying to hide his distaste. “You agreed to come with me to meet Lord Bryson and speak of the drow activity on his lands.” Behind the elf, a small bald figure suddenly emerged from the shadows, startling them both. Welby slipped around the elf and stepped close to Artimas, whispering, “It’s true. Malobar works for Bryson. He asked us to come. We agreed. I will go. The others sleep still. I will wake them.” Turning, the halfling stepped back into the shadows and disappeared. Artimas turned back to the elf, Malobar. “It does seem we have an arrangement. Come downstairs with me and I will buy you breakfast while we wait for the others. They probably won’t be long, except for Grick.” It would be a little over an hour before they set out, Artimas being correct about the time needed to rouse the sleeping half-orc. Before they left, he was re-acquainted with the discussion of the night before. Drow had surfaced and made a couple of raids against the farming community surrounding the Broken Hills. This was the first sighting of dark elves in this area for over a hundred years, and the lord of the barony was understandably concerned. He wanted a group of seasoned adventurers to try to track the drow back to their lair and discover what had roused them. The trip back to Lord Bryson’s plantation was pleasant and uneventful. The long winter had released at last the land from her grip, and the land was thick with the first lush carpet of spring. Artimas let the horses run at their own pace, pulling the wagon along behind them, enjoying the cool air as it tickled his cheeks and tugged at his whiskers. Soon enough the journey ended and they stood before the beautiful stone manor house. Malobar knocked at the door and they were greeted by Lord Bryson himself, a huge bear of a man with curly black hair whose eyes lit at the sight of the solemn elf before him. “Greetings, Malobar! It is good fortune that you were able to return so quickly, for the drow have not been silent this past week. Indeed, there was a raid just two nights ago, and I would have them ended. But we will not discuss this here. Come!” He gestured for them to follow. “Let us go the parlor, and there speak of the task at hand in comfort, at least.” Following the great lord as he strode away, they soon came to a pleasant room with great glass windows facing the northern hills and great cushioned couches turned to face outside. Lord Bryson waited for them to be comfortable and for introductions to be made before speaking. “I am sure Malobar has explained the reason I have sent for you – “ The harsh tones of Stumpwater Jack cut him off, drawing a vicious glare from the elf. “Aye, he did. Said you got some black weeds that need pulling! Just point us the way and we’ll take care of it.” Jack patted the long oaken handle of his axe affectionately. “I’m not much fer talking about it, and me axe is anxious to get to work.” Malobar started to respond but Lord Bryson cut him off with a wave and a shrug. “Yes, very well then. My scouts have traced the raiders back to an ancient burial site in the Broken Hills known as the Dorien Crypts. These have been long rumored to be haunted, but I have never had trouble from that direction before and thus saw little point in investigating, so I know little about them. There must be an entrance to the Underdark, though, hidden under the hill, that the raiders are using to gain access to the lands. The task I would have you perform is simple – track the raiders back to their home and make sure that my people never face this danger again.” “And what incentive would we have to carry out your wishes?” asked Artimas. Malobar whirled upon him, “You dare address Lord Bryson in such – “ Lord Bryson cut him off, “Now, Malobar, I do not blame their asking, and was prepared for it. I am ready to pay you five thousand gold nobles to accept this task, and I am also willing to equip you well from the library of clerical scrolls we keep in the manor chapel.” Artimas turned and saw the others nodding. It was a fair offer. He turned back to Lord Bryson. “Agreed. If you will supply us with a map or directions to the crypt, we will depart in the morning.” “I will do slightly better than that, Artimas, I will send Malobar with you. Malobar, you must show these bold heroes to the crypts, and stay with them and help them in any way you can.” Malobar nodded, “As you wish, my lord.” That night the companions talked long into the night, unable to sleep, facing the old familiar butterflies once more. Finally after the long winter of inactivity, they were going to face the unknown once again. Tomorrow their adventure would begin. [/QUOTE]
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