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.
 


©2003 Nathan Caroland, All rights reserved.