Dandu
First Post
Fistbeard Beardfist and the Fountain of Unlikely Chance
Introduction
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Fistbeard Beardfist leaned back against a barrel of his homemade whiskey and stroked his long beard in contentment. The mountain was perfectly situated for brewing alcohol; there were clear streams of fresh spring water from the mountaintops, abundant oak forests below, and several human farming settlements whose main product was various types of grains. The forest elves were something of a nuisance, but the thin mountain air generally prevented them from coming up to bother him about his distillery.
"You know, you're here to guard this cave entrance so people don't find their way into the Ancestral Durance, not get blindingly drunk and beat up mountain orcs every other day."
No such luck today, it seemed. The form of the Reina Dawntracker strode into the cavern entrance and crushed his hopes of a peaceful afternoon.
"If this is about that avalanche," Fistbeard waved dismissively, "Thain Wulfgar probably set it off with a stray thunder-hammer."
"And what was he throwing the thunder-hammer at, if I may ask?" Reina asked, with a tone as pointed as her ears.
"I'm sorry, I think my memories of the event have suddenly been obscured due to the fact that I was very drunk at the time. Will that be all?"
"Unfortunately not." She drew a letter from the woven pouch on her belt and handed it to him. "It seems your services as a guide have been requested. The Guild of Essential Inscriptions wants you to sneak a party into the Ethosas monastery."
"Guild mages and Hextorites? Can I assume that the wizards have some sort of high priority mission, if they're calling in a favor from the Guardians of the Green?"
"Something about the monks activating an ancient relic; the mages were a little vague on some of the details since they just want us to infiltrate a small group."
"And you are asking me, despite the fact that I'm only an honorary Fist of the Forest? I've never felt so honored and expendable in my life."
"There's no use in arguing, Fistbeard." Reina drew another letter out of her pouch. "I didn't want to do this, but I thought you might be a little obstinate and asked Deepwarden Goldcutter for some support."
Fistbeard snatched the second letter, tore it open, and glanced over the single line it contained.
"Classic," he groaned.
"What did it say?"
"Do it, you anvil-dropping pansy. Signed, Rhes Goldcutter."[/sblock]
Chapter 1
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Three brass crowns bought a pint of beer at The Green Casque, but it came in a dirty mug and tasted like watered down camel urine. Fistbeard set the liquid disappointment down next to a plate of tasteless chicken and a loaf of stale, soggy bread with a decent helping of mold on it. Not for the first time, he wondered why the guild mage had chosen such a 'colorful' meeting place when any wizard worthy of the title would be able to afford better quarters.
He was not the only one who did not enjoy the food. A ferociously scarred half-orc several tables over smashed his mug against the table and drunkenly roared. "This food tastes like cardboard, the wine could be vinegar, and the barmaids are uglier than Moradin's altar boys."
"Not like you're the brightest vein of silver in the mine either," Fistbeard found himself shouting back as he drew himself up to his full and impressive height of something under five feet.
"And just what are you going to do about it, little man?" The half-orc yelled back, shoving his table aside and leaping to his feet. Fistbeard planted himself firmly on the ground and prepared to give a retort when he felt a cold hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sure master dwarf meant that the barmaids are too clean shaven for that," a snide voice interrupted. Fistbeard looked up and saw that a human with burning red eyes had appeared next to him. "Please return to enjoying your meal."
"What are you going to do about it if I don't?" The drunk snarled menacingly, flexing his muscles so hard that he threatened to burst his jerkin.
"Then I am afraid that I will be forced to ask you again," the stranger responded casually, shrugging his shoulders. There was a gentle, metallic rustling sound as he did so, hinting at a coat of chainmail underneath his garb. "Very politely."
The half-orc glowered before sitting down at someone else's table, viciously tearing into the occupant's bread as if it had grievously offended him.
"If you'll come with me, master dwarf, I think it's time we got down to business," the sinister man suggested, as he headed for the staircase. "Don't forget to leave a tip, the barmaids certainly aren't supporting themselves though other means."
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The man did not talk as he led Fistbeard up to the second story, nor was Fistbeard not inclined to make conversation. Men like him were not the type dwarfs typically cared to associate with for pleasure. Fistbeard followed at a distance, and watched as the human knocked twice on the door to room 208.
"Is that you, Iago?" What sounded suspiciously like a kobold yapped from inside, as the door opened a crack for visual inspection.
"No, 'tis the Nightlord, Bringer of Demise and Taxes," Iago replied dryly, shoving open the door and sweeping the small creature aside. "This way, master dwarf."
Fistbeard stepped in cautiously; kobolds were not high on his list of favored beings either.
"It is an honor to meet you, master Beardfist," a swarthy woman in the robes of a desert mage rose from the bed to greet him. "I am Zahrah Isa, Guildmage of the Guild of Essential Inscriptions. This is my retinue; Iago, my bodyguard, and Kotor, a professional thief."
"I've been exiled from all of the goblin khanates multiple times, under several different names." Kotor added proudly, wagging his tail.
"Indeed. As I was saying, it is a privilege to work with you on this; I believe you were specifically requested by my superiors for this assignment. I heard that they were impressed by your performance in the Dragon of the Witchwood incident."
"Oh that?" Fistbeard laughed. "Moradin's beard, you knock out one dragon with your facial hair and everyone thinks you're a hero. Don't get me wrong: I'm flattered that people still remember me for that, but I'm just like any other dwarf who has a fondness for beer and a mastery of beard based combat."
Zahrah smiled politely while Kotor listened with rapt attention. Iago stood in a corner and made a soft noise that carried overtones of skepticism and contempt.
"Then I'm sure you'll perform admirably." Zahrah strode over to the small table near the room's sole window and pulled out a chair for Fistbeard. "Please sit, we should brief you on the latest information about this mission."
As he sat down, Iago unfurled a map and spread it out on the table, weighing it down with a variety of weaponry.
"Now, the monastery Ethosas and its lands are autonomous, though it lies just within the borders of its patron, the Duchy of Cinnibar." Zahrah explained, tracing magical lines on the relevant areas of the map.
"Don't you mean Cinnabar?"
"The Duke is evil and an idiot. As I was saying, its location means that we can infiltrate without technically provoking a diplomatic incident. Teleportation is prevented by a wild magic zone, and aerial insertion is impossible due to frequent violent lightening storms."
"They certainly didn't build that monastery for comfort," Fistbeard noted, as the lines on the map formed symbols to indicate the various hazards in the area.
"Quite. As I was saying, the only route left to us is through the mountains. That's where you come in; since the rest of us are not what you'd typically call 'outdoors types', it will be your job to take us in."
"I'm sure that master dwarf could have guessed that while passed out in a pool of his own vomit," Iago interrupted impatiently. "Let's not further insult his intelligence and get to the point, shall we?"
Fistbeard bristled, but the look from Zahrah was chilling.
"Iago, I think you need to buy Kotor a drink downstairs. Now." Zahrah glared.
Iago gave a mocking salute, clicked his heels, and disappeared in a puff of sulfur and brimstone. Kotor gathered Iago's weapons and marched out cheerfully, licking his lips in anticipation.
"My apologies - he can be hard to work with at times, but I assure you that Iago is quite competent in his field of expertise, enough to make up for his pervasive 'motiveless malignity'."
"It's nothing," Fistbeard waved. "Better to build alliances, than grudges. Although I do think we could stand to skip forward a bit: what is the expected force disposition, what is your window of opportunity, and do you want to go above or below ground?"
"Straight to business, I see," Zahrah nodded approvingly. "Not the least bit curious about what we're trying to investigate?"
"Sticking your beard into places it doesn't belong is a good way to lose facial hair, as far as I'm concerned. Now, about those questions?"
Zahrah conjured up another scroll and laid it in front of them.
"As far as we could ascertain, there are patrols on most of the mountain paths, above and below ground. However, the Hextorites are not nearly as adept at underground operations as they are on land, so I was considering that approach. Guarding the passages from the Underdark seems to be a relatively low priority for them, as most of their enemies are as afraid of it as they are. I'd estimate light resistance if we went through that path."
"Seems reasonable. When do you want to be there?"
"While there's no specific time limit on this mission, the Guild would appreciate a swift resolution of the issue. I was thinking perhaps a week, if that is enough time to handle everything properly."
"Easily. I took part in the tunnel fighting around there at the battle of Mine 56 - it's the one you have marked in yellow - when I first joined the militia, and got promoted to Deepwarden Initiate because of it. Sneaking in that way will be like flattening a troll with hammer. If we gathered your team, we could start off right now." Fistbeard offered enthusiastically. "Probably get there sooner, too."
"I'm afraid not all of us are as energetic as you are, master Fistbeard," Zahrah declined politely. "Though we should probably get the others back before they burn down the inn."
Fistbeard got the vague feeling that Zahrah was speaking more out of experience than in jest.[/sblock]
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