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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
The Heroes of Icemist (SmallBeginnings 2)- Interlude update 2/21/2008!
- Thread starter Enk&D'Shai
- Start date
Rel
Liquid Awesome
I loved Ashrem as the sniper who kept losing targets to his too-successful allies. I've seen that happen in more than one combat in our group. Memorably when I was playing a Rogue who kept tumbling into flanking position only to have his target killed by a readied action from his ally. That process repeated at least three times before I could actually attack someone. 
Rel said:Memorably when I was playing a Rogue who kept tumbling into flanking position only to have his target killed by a readied action from his ally. That process repeated at least three times before I could actually attack someone.
This becomes a common theme for Ashrem (Not the readied action part though) and I suspect for most rogues. We often hear Fett shout.."I have the sneak attack ability and I will find a way to use it. Damn You."
Spider_Jerusalem
Explorer
Y'know what? I think that was the best post you guys have written since I started on these boards.
Ashrem's view of the proceedings (his senses 'drawing' his surroundings and poached kills) make the ensuing combat really engaging.
Cheers guys, you always inspire me, and often make me jealous.
Spider J
Ashrem's view of the proceedings (his senses 'drawing' his surroundings and poached kills) make the ensuing combat really engaging.
Cheers guys, you always inspire me, and often make me jealous.
Spider J
fett527
First Post
Spider_Jerusalem said:
You'll find Ashrem's acent ability becomes most useful. I really tried to remember (and keep reminding dshai527) to use it all the time since he should use it as much as sight and sound. He definitely relies on it as much as he does his eyes and ears. I always ask what I smell in advance of what do I see. Gives me a mental picture before we round a corner.
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Enk&D'Shai
First Post
Didn't we tell you? Early Tomorrow.
Hey Enk, have you ever noticed that our writing always seems to slow down in the summer?
You mean as opposed to the blistering pace we set during the winter?
Yeah, like the...
I was being sarcastic.
I know, I was ignoring you. Anyway, I've got an idea to give us some incentive to write more often.
You mean like Piratecat did over in his story hour where he promised one update per week for as many weeks as he got pieces of fan artwork?
...
That was your idea, wasn't it.
Not any more. Now its better. What we need to do is hold another contest.
But last time we gave away dice - my dice, and the rest of the bag wasn't happy about that. Remember how I couldn't make a saving throw to save my life after that?
Those weren't save vs. death spells. Petrification and polymorph, maybe, but not death.
Well I don't want a repeat of that either way. What else do you suggest as a prize?
We could give out your home phone number.
What?
That way they could call and listen as I beat you with your dice bag. Or maybe we could give a free gift certificate allowing them to mow my lawn for a month. Oh, I know! How about the rest of the Chocolate Twizzers from last gaming session?
How about we simply ship them a signed copy of Small Beginnings?
Only if we can use the other stuff too.
Alright, alright. The prize for this contest will be one (1) package of Chocolate Twizzlers (unopened), my home phone number (disconnected, circa 1983), a free gift certificate to mow D’Shai’s lawn (good from December 2005 to January 2006), and a signed, bound copy of Small Beginnings (Annotated). So what should the contest be?
Interpretive dance?
Let’s broaden it a bit, and make it more like a sweepstakes. Anyone who posts an illustration/short-story/sculpture/interpretive-dance/big-budget-movie-with-plenty-of-star-power-and-special-effects-from-ILM-or-WETA relating to or inspired by either of our story hours will be automatically entered into the drawing for our prize.
Sounds good. What if they want to enter more than once?
We’ll let them. One entry for one piece of artwork, any style. If they want to stuff the box, more power to them (you big cheaters!). Just make sure that you get all your entries in before 6PM on July 15th, 2005 EDT, because that’s when we’ll be doing the drawing.
And with that, here’s your Tip O’ the Day: Stick figures qualify as art as long as they make Enk&D’Shai laugh.
*****
Ander scratched his hairy chin while listening impatiently. “I still don’t see the harm in letting Ashrem do what needs to be done, Ander,” Theo rumbled. “His argument is stone solid. He’s still fresh, and…”
The woodsman interrupted, trying and failing to keep the annoyance from his voice, “I don’t like it. It’s just too dangerous. Those tattooed thugs were waiting for us to show up looking for Aurora, and we can’t risk anyone getting caught by them.”
“These gutter rats will not catch me,” Ashrem said forcefully. As if in agreement, the sky let loose a rumble; a heavy midnight rain followed a moment later. When the feloine continued, his words were accompanied by the patter of rain on stone. “I was trained as a Forward Scout, one of the elite. I am capable of gathering intelligence on any field of battle, even one as dank and crowded as this. I have evaded men, and orcs, and demons.” The scout locked eyes with his friend, “And I will evade this rabble as well.”
Ander sighed. “I’m not going to win this one, am I?” he said.
Theo clapped him on the shoulder. “No,” he chuckled. “You know we’re right.”
“Precisely.”
“Then go, but be careful,” he said. “It’s just too convenient that we got ambushed the first night we started looking for Aurora. I think whoever set those trident-palmed lowlifes is tied to this ‘magekiller’ business, and I don’t like the idea of someone capable of murdering a wizard being mixed up with all of this.”
The scout gave a single nod before pulling his beggar’s mask over his face and disappeared into the downpour. Ander watched for a moment, looking for a hint movement, but found neither sight nor sound of his friend in the courtyard surrounding the old stone mansion. “Sometimes I forget how good he is at that,” he said. “It’s like he’s at home in the shadows.”
“I’ve seen you do the same; remember the time you disappeared in Orloff’s Wood?” the priest said with a snicker.
“Let’s just hope Ashrem fares better than I did,” Ander answered with a smile. “Well, I guess we should go meet our host. Worm had some nice things to say about him.”
Theo pursed his lips as they walked. “It’s odd, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Worm making friends with someone living in a place like… what did he call this place?”
“The Keep.”
“That’s right, the Keep…” Theo trailed off for a moment as the pair entered the meticulously detailed foyer. “Can you see that young bull being friendly with the owner of this palace? Don’t get me wrong, I think he’s a good boy, but usually he sets people on edge: like having a herd of cattle in your garden. You don’t know when or how much, but sooner or later they’re going to trample something.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Ander chuckled, slapping the older man on the back. As the two men moved inward, the woodsman scanned the long and broad hallway. Palace is right, this is even nicer than Father’s winter lodge. I wonder what its like further in…
The woodman moved through the archway at the end of the foyer, half expecting to see their host on a throne. Instead he saw the broad back of an ogre. The beast sat on a huge divan facing away from the men, laugh a deep throated laugh. It glanced back over its shoulder and bellowed, “Come in! You’re just in time for dinner!”
Ander reacted immediately, bringing up his staff in a defensive position. “Theo! We’ve got trouble!”
Ander expected the beast to charge, but instead it placed a hand on its generous and finely dressed belly and let out a chuckle. “There, Wyrm, are you satisfied? Looks like this one is as quick to jump as you were.”
The young man glanced past the ogre to see Pack and Worm trying and failing to keep straight faces. “Ha!” said the half-orc through a half chewed mouthful, “you should see the look on your face!” Pack giggled uncontrollably, and looked to be ready to fall off his chair. Ander scowled at the two of them, but they seemed unaffected by it.
“You must be Grogger,” he said sheepishly, letting his staff fall back against his shoulder.
The ogre stood and extended a paw-like hand, “Good to make your acquaintance.” By the vine, but he’s big. No wonder Worm likes him. Ander accepted the ogre’s grip, feeling very much like a child, and Grogger proceeded to greet Theo in the same manner.
“You’re an ogre!” Theo finally said, as if still trying to grasp the concept.
“Half, actually. On my mother’s side.” Grogger grinned, showing off a gruesome set of fangs.
If I can deal with Balsag, I can deal with you. “Thanks for letting us stay here. I assume that Worm has told you that trouble seems to follow us around.”
“Don’t know about that and don’t care. Trouble I can handle.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “But if trouble happens in here, try not to break anything valuable.” He patted the woodsman on the shoulder, nearly dislocating it, and Ander bit back a yelp. “Oh, sorry about that. Still hurting from your run in the store?” Grogger asked.
“My what?”
“The trouble in the belfry. Pack told us about it.”
“Pack!” Ander said, “I thought you agreed not to tell anyone about that!”
“You said not to tell Worm about it, not Grogger!”
“Not to tell me about what?
“You’re little friend here had a run in with a bat. And lost. It was back at the burned out shell he and your brother were hiding in.”
Ander rolled his eyes as Worm began roaring with laughter that threatened to shake the walls. “You got beaten up,” the half-orc managed to say, “by a… a… bat!” The huge warrior sat heavily on the ground, holding his sides as he chortled. Pack joined him a few moments later.
The woodsman felt a hand on his shoulder. “We should take a look at you, just to make sure that you’re not actually hurt,” said Theo, stifling a chuckle of his own.
Ander gave them all a scowl. “It as a big bat! Ask Pack!” This caused another round of laughter. Finally, defeated, the young man sat down on the floor with a sulky sigh.
“Well, it was big,” he mumbled, “to me at least.”
***
Ander lay on a very comfortable sofa, fighting the sort of sleep caused by a full belly. Luckily he had assistance in his battle with the Lady of Sand: Worm lay sprawled on a couch opposite the woodsman, and his snore threatened to take the roof off. Theo sat quietly in the corner, alternately staring and picking at a broad plate of uneaten food. During dinner, the ranger had asked the older man about the meeting with his father-in-law. The answer had been short and noncommittal, and ever since the cleric had sat in preoccupied silence. I guess your family reunion didn’t go as well as hoped, my friend.
In the background, Pack’s voice cut through the din, barking questions at Grogger like a hound after a treed fox. “Who’s the guy in that painting? He must be important. Is that a King’s Medal on his shirt? Wow! Do they still make armor like that anymore? What does this symbol here mean? Can I have this? Why isn’t he smiling in this painting? Is this a tapestry of the first Demon War? Did you know that Tor and Ion were one country back in the first war? They didn’t split until... Hey, this tapestry shows the map before the Great Rending!”
Ander chuckled and sat up, catching the hapless half-ogre in mid-shrug. Pack wasn’t even looking at their host as the barrage continued. “Have you had a chance to answer any of his questions?” the young man asked.
“He’s not slowed down enough for me to get the chance,” Grogger mumbled.
Pack stopped in front of a partially open door, “Hey! You have a whole room filled with furniture and stuff. Can I go in there?”
“No!” woodsman and host replied in unison.
“Thanks!” Pack cried, already through the doorway.
Ander shook his head. “Sorry about Pack,” he said, “he’s just curious about things. He’ll keep his hands to himself, though.” I swear to Althos, Pack, if you touch anything I will tell your brother what really happened to his hand painted chess set!
“The little one is fine. It’s just a room of old heirlooms that came with the house. I have yet to unpack them since I moved in.”
“Huh,” said Ander, “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you: why here? It can’t be easy to live in the city being… being what you are.”
“You mean being part ogre?”
“Well, yes. I know Worm had a tough time of it back in Icemist. I can’t see it being any easier in the city. So why move here?”
“This place is my inheritance,” Grogger said. “When my father died thirty years ago, he gave it to me. It took me a while to move in.”
“Because of your blood?”
“Not completely. Politics played a hand in it too: the dukes didn’t like it when I showed up to claim the family estate. They never approved of my father, and didn’t approve of me either. So they blocked it for as long as they could. By the time I could actually set things right, Old City had pretty much fallen apart.”
Theo, his interest seemingly piqued for the first time since Ander’s questions about his visit, joined the conversation. “Excuse me, but we’re too far out in the hinterlands to get much news from the capital. Why have things gotten so bad in Old City? When I was a young man it was always a bit rough and tumble, but nothing like what I’ve seen today.”
“It was the demon wars.”
“Still? They ended almost ten years ago,” said Theo. Ander could hear a trace of bitterness in his voice.
“Seven,” answered Grogger, “but by then the damage had already been done. I don’t know how it was further east, but here in the west we had local lords raising private armies and hoarding food. And then when the King died near the end of the war things got worse.”
“How?” asked Ander, stifling a yawn.
Theo answered his question, “My guess is that the dukes didn’t like the idea of following the orders of a four year old.”
“More like they didn’t like the Regent, Chancellor Ridaguegh,” said the half-ogre. “Without him, I figure some of the more powerful dukes would have made a bid for the throne. If you ask me,” he said, “Tor’s very lucky Therolgold didn’t rip the kingdom apart the day after we declared victory.”
“I had heard about the trouble,” said Theo, “but never knew it was that bad. How did the Chancellor stop civil war?”
“He didn’t, really. It was Valiant. Right after he won the Battle of Broken Isle, he headed back west and carved out a kingdom for himself. Brought his whole army with him, too. Ion didn’t like it, but it’s not like they could stop him. Anyway, when Valiant marched an army right into Trennor’s Keep and took the mountain passes, I guess Therolgold realized that if he started a war that Valiant might march all the way to the capital.” Grogger scratched an itch behind his ear, “Since then, it’s been a sort of a three way stand off. From what I hear, though, that’s going to change. Ion’s on the move again.”
“Why?” asked the cleric.
“Plague and famine. Ion’s been hit hard, and they’ve been massing troops near Dalendale for almost a year now, making raids to take livestock and grain. Mark me, there’s going to be war before the end of summer.”
Ander nearly started from his seat. “But how? When I left to come north, we had plenty of food. How could this happen?”
“I don’t know,” Gragger replied. But from what I hear it’s been getting worse for the past couple years. Last week someone from one of those border towns told me the famine is spreading northward into Tor, and that Valencia closed its borders.”
“Which border town? Was it near the wine country?” asked the woodsman.
“Don’t know. He died before he could finish his story. Course that wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t tried putting a sword in my gut, but a body in need of news can’t be choosy about where he gets it from. Anyway, ever since news hit about Ion, the Chancellor’s been in a tight spot: if there’s war, either Therolgold or someone else is going to try for the crown, but the Chancellor can’t just pull troops from the border. So he abandoned Old City.”
“So the king’s guard is bought and paid for, while the poor rot.” The young man could hear the contempt in Theo’s voice as he spat the words. “Typical.”
Ander flopped back on the sofa and tried to digest the news, plagued by images of his brother and sisters on sickbeds, asking for their missing sibling. He closed his eyes as the two gray-hairs continued their quiet conversation, and finally drifted into a fitful sleep.
***
“Ander.” The voice was soft but the insistent tap on his shoulder rousing him from his sleep was not. “Ander, wake up. We need to talk.”
Ander opened his eyes to see Ashrem’s dark figure hunched over him, lit only by the faint glow of forgotten coals in the fireplace. “I’ll meet you outside.” The young man allowed himself a silent yawn as the scout’s form disappeared back down the hallway; then the woodsman quietly pulled on his boots and tiptoed behind him trying not to wake the cavalcade of snoring sleepers.
As he stepped into the bright courtyard, he shaded his eyes. We must have been more tired than I thought. It must be past breakfast already. “What did you find, Ash?”
“A few scraps of information, and a pair of choice morsels.” The feloine rubbed his head as if trying to calm a headache before he continued. “I believe I can explain why you have been falsely accused of murder, and I have discovered more substantial information concerning our original errand.”
“What?” Ander felt his pulse quicken, more at the thought of being on Aurora’s trail than at news of his innocence.
“I decided relatively early in the evening that the best course of action would be to shadow some of the Academy’s students and listen to their conversation. I found a quartet well in their cups, stumbling their way back to the Academy grounds, and heard one of them complain to his fellows that his mistress had been outbid, again, for the estate of the recently deceased master Kelanen. The buyer was a Sir Brandimere, and it appears that he has purchased every lot that has come available from the Academy since last winter.”
“Were do we find him?” Ander said, a bit louder than he had wanted.
“I took the liberty of arranging that bit of business with one of his chamberlain’s servants. We have been surreptitiously inserted into Sir Brandimere’s schedule and will be meeting with him over dinner tonight. I have been assured that he does not make his own appointments, so he will not be alarmed; in turn, I secured the meeting with a small bribe under the pretense that we challenge his holding from one of the auctions based on actual ownership of a handful of items.”
“Good, good,” Ander said. He could barely stop himself from jumping at the news like a dog with a new bone. “So where exactly are we going?”
“Sir Brandimere’s manor lies on the far edge of New City, and I believe…”
From behind him, Ander heard Pack’s voice, “We’re going to eat dinner with a knight? One of the Lords of the city? This is great!” he rambled, “I mean, you’ll all need new clothes, especially you Ashrem because its not like you can go into high society looking like a beggar from the streets but I think I remember seeing some curtains in one of the rooms that might…”
“Pack when did you…” started the woodsman.
“We all got up when we heard you sneaking around Ander,” Theo yawned, joining the trio.
Grogger and Worm also padded their way down the hallway. “Who’s your beggar friend?” the larger of the two said, “another mouth to feed? I hope he likes meat.”
“Thank you, but that will not be necessary,” said Ashrem. Ander noticed that Ashrem’s hand had strayed to the hilt of his sword, and shook his head ever so slightly no. The scout relaxed, kept an eye on the half-ogre. “I must go and find out more about this knight. I will meet you at the ferry. Good day.” Ashrem then turned walked away without a backward glance. Sorry, Ash. Meepo, Balsag, and now Grogger. One day you’re going to have to look past the skin. Not everyone’s a demon in disguise.
“Now what was this I heard about you going to a fancy dinner and needing something genteel to wear? Well, come on inside. I’ve got some trunks that I imagine the little one hasn’t opened yet full of clothes and things from my father. You’re welcome to whatever you need; it’s not like they’ll fit me any time soon!”
“Thank you, Grogger,” said Ander, “we’ll only take what we need.” Their host simply shrugged his shoulders and started back down the hall. “Pack,” he continued, “We’re going to need transportation, something we can move Ashrem in without too much suspicion. I need you to go out and get us some.”
“But Ander, I was going to help rummage through the trunks and look for stuff!”
“I know, Pack,” that’s why you’re going to get us a ride, “but you’re the best at haggling, and it’s not like we have a lot of money to use.”
“For once he’s right, Pack,” said Worm, “You’re the best one for the job. You’re good at getting a fair price, and you’re not wanted for murder.”
Ander glanced at Worm, who glared back at the woodsman. “Right,” he said carefully, “you’re not wanted for murders you didn’t commit.” He said it slowly with just a hint of stress on the three most important words.
Then Theo stepped into his line of sight and said, “Well, that’s settled. Worm, why don’t you go with him, just to make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble?” He patted the half-orc on the shoulder, “After last night, it’s a good idea for him not to be out there alone.”
Worm grunted, “C’mon, Pack, let’s get our things and go.”
The cleric turned to look at Ander, “Now let’s get something to eat and take a look at those trunks.”
*****
Hey Enk, have you ever noticed that our writing always seems to slow down in the summer?
You mean as opposed to the blistering pace we set during the winter?
Yeah, like the...
I was being sarcastic.
I know, I was ignoring you. Anyway, I've got an idea to give us some incentive to write more often.
You mean like Piratecat did over in his story hour where he promised one update per week for as many weeks as he got pieces of fan artwork?
...
That was your idea, wasn't it.
Not any more. Now its better. What we need to do is hold another contest.
But last time we gave away dice - my dice, and the rest of the bag wasn't happy about that. Remember how I couldn't make a saving throw to save my life after that?
Those weren't save vs. death spells. Petrification and polymorph, maybe, but not death.
Well I don't want a repeat of that either way. What else do you suggest as a prize?
We could give out your home phone number.
What?
That way they could call and listen as I beat you with your dice bag. Or maybe we could give a free gift certificate allowing them to mow my lawn for a month. Oh, I know! How about the rest of the Chocolate Twizzers from last gaming session?
How about we simply ship them a signed copy of Small Beginnings?
Only if we can use the other stuff too.
Alright, alright. The prize for this contest will be one (1) package of Chocolate Twizzlers (unopened), my home phone number (disconnected, circa 1983), a free gift certificate to mow D’Shai’s lawn (good from December 2005 to January 2006), and a signed, bound copy of Small Beginnings (Annotated). So what should the contest be?
Interpretive dance?
Let’s broaden it a bit, and make it more like a sweepstakes. Anyone who posts an illustration/short-story/sculpture/interpretive-dance/big-budget-movie-with-plenty-of-star-power-and-special-effects-from-ILM-or-WETA relating to or inspired by either of our story hours will be automatically entered into the drawing for our prize.
Sounds good. What if they want to enter more than once?
We’ll let them. One entry for one piece of artwork, any style. If they want to stuff the box, more power to them (you big cheaters!). Just make sure that you get all your entries in before 6PM on July 15th, 2005 EDT, because that’s when we’ll be doing the drawing.
And with that, here’s your Tip O’ the Day: Stick figures qualify as art as long as they make Enk&D’Shai laugh.
*****
Ander scratched his hairy chin while listening impatiently. “I still don’t see the harm in letting Ashrem do what needs to be done, Ander,” Theo rumbled. “His argument is stone solid. He’s still fresh, and…”
The woodsman interrupted, trying and failing to keep the annoyance from his voice, “I don’t like it. It’s just too dangerous. Those tattooed thugs were waiting for us to show up looking for Aurora, and we can’t risk anyone getting caught by them.”
“These gutter rats will not catch me,” Ashrem said forcefully. As if in agreement, the sky let loose a rumble; a heavy midnight rain followed a moment later. When the feloine continued, his words were accompanied by the patter of rain on stone. “I was trained as a Forward Scout, one of the elite. I am capable of gathering intelligence on any field of battle, even one as dank and crowded as this. I have evaded men, and orcs, and demons.” The scout locked eyes with his friend, “And I will evade this rabble as well.”
Ander sighed. “I’m not going to win this one, am I?” he said.
Theo clapped him on the shoulder. “No,” he chuckled. “You know we’re right.”
“Precisely.”
“Then go, but be careful,” he said. “It’s just too convenient that we got ambushed the first night we started looking for Aurora. I think whoever set those trident-palmed lowlifes is tied to this ‘magekiller’ business, and I don’t like the idea of someone capable of murdering a wizard being mixed up with all of this.”
The scout gave a single nod before pulling his beggar’s mask over his face and disappeared into the downpour. Ander watched for a moment, looking for a hint movement, but found neither sight nor sound of his friend in the courtyard surrounding the old stone mansion. “Sometimes I forget how good he is at that,” he said. “It’s like he’s at home in the shadows.”
“I’ve seen you do the same; remember the time you disappeared in Orloff’s Wood?” the priest said with a snicker.
“Let’s just hope Ashrem fares better than I did,” Ander answered with a smile. “Well, I guess we should go meet our host. Worm had some nice things to say about him.”
Theo pursed his lips as they walked. “It’s odd, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Worm making friends with someone living in a place like… what did he call this place?”
“The Keep.”
“That’s right, the Keep…” Theo trailed off for a moment as the pair entered the meticulously detailed foyer. “Can you see that young bull being friendly with the owner of this palace? Don’t get me wrong, I think he’s a good boy, but usually he sets people on edge: like having a herd of cattle in your garden. You don’t know when or how much, but sooner or later they’re going to trample something.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Ander chuckled, slapping the older man on the back. As the two men moved inward, the woodsman scanned the long and broad hallway. Palace is right, this is even nicer than Father’s winter lodge. I wonder what its like further in…
The woodman moved through the archway at the end of the foyer, half expecting to see their host on a throne. Instead he saw the broad back of an ogre. The beast sat on a huge divan facing away from the men, laugh a deep throated laugh. It glanced back over its shoulder and bellowed, “Come in! You’re just in time for dinner!”
Ander reacted immediately, bringing up his staff in a defensive position. “Theo! We’ve got trouble!”
Ander expected the beast to charge, but instead it placed a hand on its generous and finely dressed belly and let out a chuckle. “There, Wyrm, are you satisfied? Looks like this one is as quick to jump as you were.”
The young man glanced past the ogre to see Pack and Worm trying and failing to keep straight faces. “Ha!” said the half-orc through a half chewed mouthful, “you should see the look on your face!” Pack giggled uncontrollably, and looked to be ready to fall off his chair. Ander scowled at the two of them, but they seemed unaffected by it.
“You must be Grogger,” he said sheepishly, letting his staff fall back against his shoulder.
The ogre stood and extended a paw-like hand, “Good to make your acquaintance.” By the vine, but he’s big. No wonder Worm likes him. Ander accepted the ogre’s grip, feeling very much like a child, and Grogger proceeded to greet Theo in the same manner.
“You’re an ogre!” Theo finally said, as if still trying to grasp the concept.
“Half, actually. On my mother’s side.” Grogger grinned, showing off a gruesome set of fangs.
If I can deal with Balsag, I can deal with you. “Thanks for letting us stay here. I assume that Worm has told you that trouble seems to follow us around.”
“Don’t know about that and don’t care. Trouble I can handle.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “But if trouble happens in here, try not to break anything valuable.” He patted the woodsman on the shoulder, nearly dislocating it, and Ander bit back a yelp. “Oh, sorry about that. Still hurting from your run in the store?” Grogger asked.
“My what?”
“The trouble in the belfry. Pack told us about it.”
“Pack!” Ander said, “I thought you agreed not to tell anyone about that!”
“You said not to tell Worm about it, not Grogger!”
“Not to tell me about what?
“You’re little friend here had a run in with a bat. And lost. It was back at the burned out shell he and your brother were hiding in.”
Ander rolled his eyes as Worm began roaring with laughter that threatened to shake the walls. “You got beaten up,” the half-orc managed to say, “by a… a… bat!” The huge warrior sat heavily on the ground, holding his sides as he chortled. Pack joined him a few moments later.
The woodsman felt a hand on his shoulder. “We should take a look at you, just to make sure that you’re not actually hurt,” said Theo, stifling a chuckle of his own.
Ander gave them all a scowl. “It as a big bat! Ask Pack!” This caused another round of laughter. Finally, defeated, the young man sat down on the floor with a sulky sigh.
“Well, it was big,” he mumbled, “to me at least.”
***
Ander lay on a very comfortable sofa, fighting the sort of sleep caused by a full belly. Luckily he had assistance in his battle with the Lady of Sand: Worm lay sprawled on a couch opposite the woodsman, and his snore threatened to take the roof off. Theo sat quietly in the corner, alternately staring and picking at a broad plate of uneaten food. During dinner, the ranger had asked the older man about the meeting with his father-in-law. The answer had been short and noncommittal, and ever since the cleric had sat in preoccupied silence. I guess your family reunion didn’t go as well as hoped, my friend.
In the background, Pack’s voice cut through the din, barking questions at Grogger like a hound after a treed fox. “Who’s the guy in that painting? He must be important. Is that a King’s Medal on his shirt? Wow! Do they still make armor like that anymore? What does this symbol here mean? Can I have this? Why isn’t he smiling in this painting? Is this a tapestry of the first Demon War? Did you know that Tor and Ion were one country back in the first war? They didn’t split until... Hey, this tapestry shows the map before the Great Rending!”
Ander chuckled and sat up, catching the hapless half-ogre in mid-shrug. Pack wasn’t even looking at their host as the barrage continued. “Have you had a chance to answer any of his questions?” the young man asked.
“He’s not slowed down enough for me to get the chance,” Grogger mumbled.
Pack stopped in front of a partially open door, “Hey! You have a whole room filled with furniture and stuff. Can I go in there?”
“No!” woodsman and host replied in unison.
“Thanks!” Pack cried, already through the doorway.
Ander shook his head. “Sorry about Pack,” he said, “he’s just curious about things. He’ll keep his hands to himself, though.” I swear to Althos, Pack, if you touch anything I will tell your brother what really happened to his hand painted chess set!
“The little one is fine. It’s just a room of old heirlooms that came with the house. I have yet to unpack them since I moved in.”
“Huh,” said Ander, “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you: why here? It can’t be easy to live in the city being… being what you are.”
“You mean being part ogre?”
“Well, yes. I know Worm had a tough time of it back in Icemist. I can’t see it being any easier in the city. So why move here?”
“This place is my inheritance,” Grogger said. “When my father died thirty years ago, he gave it to me. It took me a while to move in.”
“Because of your blood?”
“Not completely. Politics played a hand in it too: the dukes didn’t like it when I showed up to claim the family estate. They never approved of my father, and didn’t approve of me either. So they blocked it for as long as they could. By the time I could actually set things right, Old City had pretty much fallen apart.”
Theo, his interest seemingly piqued for the first time since Ander’s questions about his visit, joined the conversation. “Excuse me, but we’re too far out in the hinterlands to get much news from the capital. Why have things gotten so bad in Old City? When I was a young man it was always a bit rough and tumble, but nothing like what I’ve seen today.”
“It was the demon wars.”
“Still? They ended almost ten years ago,” said Theo. Ander could hear a trace of bitterness in his voice.
“Seven,” answered Grogger, “but by then the damage had already been done. I don’t know how it was further east, but here in the west we had local lords raising private armies and hoarding food. And then when the King died near the end of the war things got worse.”
“How?” asked Ander, stifling a yawn.
Theo answered his question, “My guess is that the dukes didn’t like the idea of following the orders of a four year old.”
“More like they didn’t like the Regent, Chancellor Ridaguegh,” said the half-ogre. “Without him, I figure some of the more powerful dukes would have made a bid for the throne. If you ask me,” he said, “Tor’s very lucky Therolgold didn’t rip the kingdom apart the day after we declared victory.”
“I had heard about the trouble,” said Theo, “but never knew it was that bad. How did the Chancellor stop civil war?”
“He didn’t, really. It was Valiant. Right after he won the Battle of Broken Isle, he headed back west and carved out a kingdom for himself. Brought his whole army with him, too. Ion didn’t like it, but it’s not like they could stop him. Anyway, when Valiant marched an army right into Trennor’s Keep and took the mountain passes, I guess Therolgold realized that if he started a war that Valiant might march all the way to the capital.” Grogger scratched an itch behind his ear, “Since then, it’s been a sort of a three way stand off. From what I hear, though, that’s going to change. Ion’s on the move again.”
“Why?” asked the cleric.
“Plague and famine. Ion’s been hit hard, and they’ve been massing troops near Dalendale for almost a year now, making raids to take livestock and grain. Mark me, there’s going to be war before the end of summer.”
Ander nearly started from his seat. “But how? When I left to come north, we had plenty of food. How could this happen?”
“I don’t know,” Gragger replied. But from what I hear it’s been getting worse for the past couple years. Last week someone from one of those border towns told me the famine is spreading northward into Tor, and that Valencia closed its borders.”
“Which border town? Was it near the wine country?” asked the woodsman.
“Don’t know. He died before he could finish his story. Course that wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t tried putting a sword in my gut, but a body in need of news can’t be choosy about where he gets it from. Anyway, ever since news hit about Ion, the Chancellor’s been in a tight spot: if there’s war, either Therolgold or someone else is going to try for the crown, but the Chancellor can’t just pull troops from the border. So he abandoned Old City.”
“So the king’s guard is bought and paid for, while the poor rot.” The young man could hear the contempt in Theo’s voice as he spat the words. “Typical.”
Ander flopped back on the sofa and tried to digest the news, plagued by images of his brother and sisters on sickbeds, asking for their missing sibling. He closed his eyes as the two gray-hairs continued their quiet conversation, and finally drifted into a fitful sleep.
***
“Ander.” The voice was soft but the insistent tap on his shoulder rousing him from his sleep was not. “Ander, wake up. We need to talk.”
Ander opened his eyes to see Ashrem’s dark figure hunched over him, lit only by the faint glow of forgotten coals in the fireplace. “I’ll meet you outside.” The young man allowed himself a silent yawn as the scout’s form disappeared back down the hallway; then the woodsman quietly pulled on his boots and tiptoed behind him trying not to wake the cavalcade of snoring sleepers.
As he stepped into the bright courtyard, he shaded his eyes. We must have been more tired than I thought. It must be past breakfast already. “What did you find, Ash?”
“A few scraps of information, and a pair of choice morsels.” The feloine rubbed his head as if trying to calm a headache before he continued. “I believe I can explain why you have been falsely accused of murder, and I have discovered more substantial information concerning our original errand.”
“What?” Ander felt his pulse quicken, more at the thought of being on Aurora’s trail than at news of his innocence.
“I decided relatively early in the evening that the best course of action would be to shadow some of the Academy’s students and listen to their conversation. I found a quartet well in their cups, stumbling their way back to the Academy grounds, and heard one of them complain to his fellows that his mistress had been outbid, again, for the estate of the recently deceased master Kelanen. The buyer was a Sir Brandimere, and it appears that he has purchased every lot that has come available from the Academy since last winter.”
“Were do we find him?” Ander said, a bit louder than he had wanted.
“I took the liberty of arranging that bit of business with one of his chamberlain’s servants. We have been surreptitiously inserted into Sir Brandimere’s schedule and will be meeting with him over dinner tonight. I have been assured that he does not make his own appointments, so he will not be alarmed; in turn, I secured the meeting with a small bribe under the pretense that we challenge his holding from one of the auctions based on actual ownership of a handful of items.”
“Good, good,” Ander said. He could barely stop himself from jumping at the news like a dog with a new bone. “So where exactly are we going?”
“Sir Brandimere’s manor lies on the far edge of New City, and I believe…”
From behind him, Ander heard Pack’s voice, “We’re going to eat dinner with a knight? One of the Lords of the city? This is great!” he rambled, “I mean, you’ll all need new clothes, especially you Ashrem because its not like you can go into high society looking like a beggar from the streets but I think I remember seeing some curtains in one of the rooms that might…”
“Pack when did you…” started the woodsman.
“We all got up when we heard you sneaking around Ander,” Theo yawned, joining the trio.
Grogger and Worm also padded their way down the hallway. “Who’s your beggar friend?” the larger of the two said, “another mouth to feed? I hope he likes meat.”
“Thank you, but that will not be necessary,” said Ashrem. Ander noticed that Ashrem’s hand had strayed to the hilt of his sword, and shook his head ever so slightly no. The scout relaxed, kept an eye on the half-ogre. “I must go and find out more about this knight. I will meet you at the ferry. Good day.” Ashrem then turned walked away without a backward glance. Sorry, Ash. Meepo, Balsag, and now Grogger. One day you’re going to have to look past the skin. Not everyone’s a demon in disguise.
“Now what was this I heard about you going to a fancy dinner and needing something genteel to wear? Well, come on inside. I’ve got some trunks that I imagine the little one hasn’t opened yet full of clothes and things from my father. You’re welcome to whatever you need; it’s not like they’ll fit me any time soon!”
“Thank you, Grogger,” said Ander, “we’ll only take what we need.” Their host simply shrugged his shoulders and started back down the hall. “Pack,” he continued, “We’re going to need transportation, something we can move Ashrem in without too much suspicion. I need you to go out and get us some.”
“But Ander, I was going to help rummage through the trunks and look for stuff!”
“I know, Pack,” that’s why you’re going to get us a ride, “but you’re the best at haggling, and it’s not like we have a lot of money to use.”
“For once he’s right, Pack,” said Worm, “You’re the best one for the job. You’re good at getting a fair price, and you’re not wanted for murder.”
Ander glanced at Worm, who glared back at the woodsman. “Right,” he said carefully, “you’re not wanted for murders you didn’t commit.” He said it slowly with just a hint of stress on the three most important words.
Then Theo stepped into his line of sight and said, “Well, that’s settled. Worm, why don’t you go with him, just to make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble?” He patted the half-orc on the shoulder, “After last night, it’s a good idea for him not to be out there alone.”
Worm grunted, “C’mon, Pack, let’s get our things and go.”
The cleric turned to look at Ander, “Now let’s get something to eat and take a look at those trunks.”
*****
Bubbalicious
First Post
Enk&D'Shai said:
Maybe Enk would like something to give him immunity from badgerfication!!!
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