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Date:
Year of Wild Magic, 14 Present Reckoning, 20th of Eleasias
Location: Waterdeep - South Ward
Time: Late afternoon to dawn on the 21st of Eleasias
It is just under two hours when everyone finally makes back to the
appointed meeting at the Adventurers Guild in Virgins' Square, with
first Na'tally and Amershaine arriving and then shortly after the
rest, having stopped briefly to gather trail rations for Bedwin
after being pointed in the right direction by a helpful merchant.
Inside you see steady activity near the post boards as several
individuals stand and read or have read to them, the notices posted.
Seeing you all gathering back out front of the guildhouse, Blazidon
steps out front of the building and says bluntly, "Thought you all
were gone by now. Heading out in the morn' or have you yet more to
look after?" he scratches his bearded cheek, his good eye seeming to
continuously slide back to Mehet and away again.
With a look toward Amershaine, Na'tally says, "Well, that's just it.
I'd like to wait till morning before we leave the city. My uncle has
a contact that might be able to help us out in the Mere. Some sort
of scout or ranger that's familiar with the area."
She looks at the others. "There are plenty of places to stay. I
can't remember who's a native and who isn't, but I'll be happy to
offer suggestions."
At that moment, Harly drops out of the sky in a flutter of wings,
landing awkwardly near Na'tally's feet. The big bird cocks his head
sideways, eyeing the assembly, then opens his mouth wide. A moment
later, the bird snaps his beak shut, without saying anything.
Na'tally breathes a silent sigh of relief.
Then, the bird defecates right there, hops to the side, and caws
out, <Let's blow this shithole!> in orcish. Na'tally groans.
"Harly, damn you! Scoot!" The mage flicks her toe at the bird, who
takes to the air, cackling happily, taking up a circling pattern
above the group.
Na'tally, blushing, mumbles, "ah, sorry about that."
Marise raises an eyebrow at the young human's embarrassment, "I
dinnae understand, what'd he say? As fer stayin' tha night ..."
Marise shrugs her shoulders. "I kin always find a room."
"Aye," Bedwin adds, "There's places in tha city that cater fer dwur.
Mornin's fine by me."
"So tomorrow morning here at the Guild?" Jakihm asks, his face a
curious mix of excitement and disappointment. Upon getting his
answer, he heads off on his own.
"Hmmm. I've already collected my gear and my pony and was ready to
go today." Tinem says with a disappointed expression. "But, I
certainly don't intend to go it alone, so I guess if you are all
staying the night, I'll stay too. But, only tonight. I'm ready to
take my leave of Waterdeep."
"Where are you all staying?" he asks of the group. "Do you know if
they have room for one more?"
"I was stayin' at the Drippin' Dagger. Mebbe I can catch the innkeep
an see if'n he can give me the same room. If'n we can't get rooms,
doesn't this piece o'parchment allow us ta stay at the guildhouse?
I'm thinkin' the one-eyed warrior said somethin' 'bout that." Marise
says as she pets Me'Linde's soft muzzle. She looks disappointed, "I
was ready ta go today though, but I'm with tha' gnome. If'n part of
us stay, all of us stay."
Having kept her council until now Alemnia speaks up bluntly, "yes I
agree, if one of us stays overnight all should stay, but if the
reason we are staying is the consideration of whether we are going
to hire a guide, perhaps we should establish who is the least bit
willing to pay out for such to establish whether it is worth
remaining for this meeting. I must say that I, for one, am not."
Tinem gives Alemnia a quizzical look. "Ummm, while I'm anxious to
leave this city, I'm willing to wait one night if it makes our task
easier. A guide into the Mere might be well worth any cost, if any.
Perhaps he would join our band rather than ask for a set fee? So, I
say we spend the night and see. Besides, the day's almost over and
we'd not make it very far tonight anyway."
Na'tally shakes her head at the talk of cost. "I didn't think about
that." She looks irritated. "Knowing my uncle though, he'll likely
pay the man and have him say he
WANTS to join us..."
"Regardless," the mage continues, "we should wait and see. None of
us know the Mere." She shrugs.
Na'tally looks about. "If any of you like to join me, I'm thinking
of heading on over to the House of Good Spirits. They've fine food
and drink, and I'm sure they'll have some space available. If not,
there are other places nearby." Na'tally nods to those that are
heading off on their own.
With a nod to those remaining, Amershaine mounts his horse. "I will
return here at daybreak," he throws over his shoulder as he turns
Oakshield to leave.
It is agreed, with some grumbling from some, to stay the night in
Waterdeep and continue in the morning after having a look at this
supposed tracker that Na'tally's uncle is supposedly sending for.
More than one person wonders just what this is going to cost them in
both time and money.
With the matter settled each agrees to meet on the morn at the
guildhouse, with Jakihm heading his own way to Tymora's Temple and
the terse Amershaine simply states he'll return at daybreak and
turns his mount away.
At Na'tally's suggestion the rest head for the House of Good Spirits
off the northwest side of the Rising Ride. The place seems to be a
ramshackle of warehouses that has been cobbled and patched together
but seems to be in good repair as things go. Inside the place has
little business at the moment being early afternoon but in no time
rooms are procured for all and your gear is stashed as you settle
down to good drink and conversation as you try to each find out a
little more about those who may very well hold your lives, and you
theirs, in hand.
Na'tally, pulling forth a piece of parchment and ink, writes a
letter to her Uncle Vander telling him of your decision to stay a
further day until daybreak the next morn when you will all gather at
the Adventurers Guildhouse before departing for the Mere of Dead
Men. Finishing the letter she hands it to one of the staff of the
House of Good Spirits, along with several silver and before long you
see that a small dirty urchin shows up at the front of the
establishment and is given coin and the letter before he rushes
forth in a flurry of dirty limbs.
As the afternoon turns to evening, and the evening to night, the
House of Good Spirits almost crowds to overflow as the ale, sluth
and zzar flow into eager cups with roast boar, stews and saltbread
melts making their ways to your table and others as singing and
rough housing continues. More than one eyes your odd little group
who has taken up most of a corner, with Mehet drawing the most
obvious attention and more than one offer to dance or drink, some
even making even bolder attentions known but it is quickly taken
care of through either a quick laugh or the protests of her
companions which none seem to tangle with.
As one point a man stands and raises a tankard hollering, "To the
Flying Flagons!" and in but a moments notice as if it is a common
toast, a roaring song his belted out by the patrons and staff alike
who hold up their own cups.
"And no one will stand there to hear our reply,
And no one will come there to see heroes die ...
Oh, raise flagons high
And swords to the sky
For guild and adventure
Die well when you die!"
More than one brawl is started during the night, but most are taken
outside to the street quickly, though one such disturbance is
finally broken up by several burly bouncers who take knots and lay
them upside of outraged brawlers who are then dragged away to lay in
a corner undisturbed.
Before long, each of you beg your pardon for sleep and the early day
to come and with much merry making and drinking behind you, make
your way to your rooms and the bed that awaits you though it is some
time before some can find the peace of sleep as the drinking and
cajoling continues down below.
It is sometime before dawn when you are awakened by a knock on your
door, a tired member of staff waking you as requested for your
agreed meeting with the others at the Adventurers Guild. With sleep
still in your eyes you quickly gather your belongings and splash
water on your face to hasten the process of waking up.
Within a half hour you find yourselves gathered outside at the
stables, the brisk morning air coming from the harbor chilling the
early morn. Saddling your horses, with Bedwin needing a quick
refresher on the task, you quickly get underway.
Just as the dawn breaks over Waterdeep you make it into Virgins'
Square and find Amershaine and Jakihm have already arrived and are
waiting outside the closed doors of the guildhouse. With hushed
voices morning greetings are exchanged and queries about the tracker
are asked though with no answers to be given.
The sound of hooves striking cobblestone echo through the morning
air as the sounds of city stirring just begin. Approaching from a
side street is a mounted man, behind him another mount is tethered
and packed with supplies. Riding up to your group the man stops
about ten feet away and throws back the hood of his cloak and
appraises each of you.
At a glance he is a rather unassuming man of medium height and build
with dusky skin and shoulder long black hair. He wears brown leather
jerkins and a loose fitting black shirt. Over his shoulders hangs a
gray hooded traveling cloak. From his belt hang two small pouches
and a large broad dagger with a heavy basket hilt. His boots are
sturdy and well worn, they look like they have seen miles upon miles
of dusty roads and muddy forest trails
Taking a closer look upon Torstag, the first thing one would notice
are his eyes: Large blue almond shaped eyes with a sprinkle of
golden flecks. At first they seem strangely out of place in his
weather-beaten dusky face, but then you notice his slightly pointy
ears and delicate, almost frail build. The loose fitting black shirt
is covering (and muffling) a light chain shirt worn over a padded
leather vest, making him appear much more heavyset than he actually
is.
"You would be Na'tally?" he asks with a strong Tethyrian accent as
he glances at Na'tally and her familiar Harly.
Nodding, Na'tally shifts slightly in the saddle and says, "You're my
uncle's guide?" There is a bit of distrust evident in her voice, a
remnant of the suppositions of the
others the previous day, as well as of her own misgivings.
Harly, holding to a perilous perch on the saddle bags behind
Na'tally, eyes the newcomer. Whatever the bird might think though,
it holds it's tongue.
"Vander of Quilhearst Tower hired me that much is correct," Torstag
says softly, "But since it seems that it is you and not your uncle
who are going into the Mere I'll be your guide"
He watches the diverse group gathered in front of him, silently
assessing each of you. He nods approvingly to the large halfelven
warrior before his eyes settle on Na'tally again:
"Torstag Elveneyes at your service"
After a brief moment of silence he casually remarks: "Words came
from the Godseyes yestereve, that yet another group of adventurers
has perished in the Mere", while carefully watching the group for
their reactions.
Alemnia's eyes crease slightly, perhaps in amusement - but if so
there is no other sign. "Your point being?"
Frowning a bit Torstag says “The Mereish a dangerous place, jusht
want to make sure you know what you’re getting into” then he shrugs
his shoulders slightly and continues “If you’re heeding the Godseyes
call, then we’ll be probably be going after prey that can only be
brought down by a hungry pack”
Amershaine returns the approving nod. "Well met. I hight Amershaine
Ragingwolf, ranger of Meilikki," the half-elf offers in a lilting,
flowing tongue some recognize as elven.
“Praise to the lady of the forests” Torstag offers, stumbling a bit
on the words, his elvish is clearly not as flowing as that of
Amershaine. “As for my self, I stalk the paths of the lone wolf,
Fenmarel Mestarine. As I said to your companion: some prey can only
be brought down by a hungry pack, and I will be honored to hunt with
one of the lady’s followers” With each word, his mastery of the
tongue seems better, as if he is remembering a language long unused
or speaking one not fully mastered.
Tinem gives a toothy grin and extends his hand warmly to Torstag. "Tinem
is my name! Glad to have you with us." he says enthusiastically as
he makes a final adjustment to Daisy's saddlebags and climbs aboard
his pony. He looks towards the rising sun. "Perhaps we should start
on our way and let our friend begin earning his wages!" Tinem adds
with a playful tone.
At first Torstag seems slightly surprised at the enthusiastic
greeting from the little fellow, then he quickly dismounts and
accept the extended hand with a curious smile, before nodding in
agreement “Aye, lets get moving while the dayish still young”
Na'tally nods, easing her horse about. "Let's do this then." She
nods her head, and Harly drops from the horse, his wings snapping
open to arrest his fall and then beating hard to gain altitude. In
moments, the bird is circling high above the party.
Having taken a moment to look over their new companion, Bedwin steps
forward to stand beside Tinem and also offers his outstretched hand.
"Bedwin Hafnurson, son of Hafnur Greybeard," he says in a deep,
rumbling voice. "While we share the road my Axe
is yours."
Having greeted the newcomer, Bedwin turns and, with some difficulty,
mounts his pony. Ready to depart, he turns to look down the road
they will soon be traveling.
Taking the outstretched hand, Torstag ponders on the wording of the
dwarf’s greeting
“I thank you Bedwin Hafnurson”, he emphasizes the name as if
carefully memorizing it, “I am honored at the trust you show to a
stranger, I will do my utmost to ensure that the road we share will
not be one of snares and unspotted ambushes”
Fearing that some ritual reply might be in order he continues “You
must excuse me my manners, I have not met many of the stout folk”
with that remark he turn to his horse and pulls something out from a
bundle behind his saddle. It is a longsword in a simple leather
scabbard, the sword is plain and unremarkable except for an “H”-like
insignia near the hilt “My sword shall not betray you”.
A broad grin breaks out on Bedwin's face and he gives a slight bow
from the waist, his armor creaking as he does so. Straightening, he
gives Torstag a firm nod and says, "Ye'll do laddie. Welcome ta tha
group."
Marise Stands near Me'Linde's head and watches the exchanges with
the newcomer. She merely shakes her head at his baiting reference to
the death of another group of adventurers. Finally she nods a
decision to herself and moves forward to Torstag, "Well-Met,
Torstag. Glad ta have a scout who knows a bit about the area. I'm
Marise Deepax, formerly of Citadel Adbar." She indicates her warpony
with a nod of her head, "That beauty is Me'Linde." She extends a
gauntleted hand to greet the scout.
After greeting Marise, Torstag looks approvingly at the pony: ”Take
good care of her! A good mount can save you from more trouble than
your blade.” Then as an afterthought he mutters softly to himself:
”Just don’t forget… that once you have ridden with them knights…
once you have ridden with them knights, itish hard to walk among the
grunts”
Addressing the remaining persons he continues, “Shall we do the
introductions as we ride? The first day’s ride will in all
likelihood be as peaceful as a stroll on the seawall”. In spite of
his own words, Torstag straps his swordbelt on. From a long bundle
on the packhorse he retrieves an unstrung longbow as well as a
quiver of arrows and secures both behind his saddle, before mounting
his horse.
"Well met, Torstag follower of the lone wolf. I'm Azenon, fist of
the Firelord," he says with a slight nod of his head, as he sits
atop Inferno and nudges him closer to Torstag and his mount. "I'm
glad you are here. Your knowledge of the mere and your skill with
sword and bow are much appreciated." With his well worn smirk
disappearing and the look of seriousness coming over his young face,
Azenon continues, "As long as I draw breath my wand and spells will
be yours."
“Those are brave words from one so young” Torstag states without a
trace of mockery or insult, “your confidence and courage do you much
honor”. A sad smile forms on Torstag’s lips; he is looking straight
at Azenon but his eyes seeing something far away. “Mark my wo…” He
starts, but then he shakes his head slightly “Nahh itish no good, I
must be sounding just like her…and I never listened anyway” The sad
smile turns into a bitter frown “You don’t have to prove yourself
kid, staying alive is hard enough”
Jakihm snaps out of his daze with a snort and looks around quickly,
seemingly getting his bearings. "Huh, wha, oh, well, met, Torstag,"
Jakihm says in a friendly tone. "Sorry 'bout that. Long night with
no sleep...too excited I guess." He swings up into the saddle of his
horse, Luck.
Noting the symbols of Tymora prominently displayed on the young
Waterdhavian Torstag asks: ”Some lucky girl kept you awake?” and
continues in a friendly, though slightly mocking tone ”or did the
Lady compel you to bless every game of chance played in the
harborside taverns”
"Now *those* would adventures to brag about!" Jakihm says with a
chuckle. "Nah, just a bit of nerves. I've spent a fair amount of
time in dangerous places, but they always been in or under Waterdeep.
This will be my first time outside her walls.
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