20th day of Fellnight:
The group not wanting to draw to much attention to themselves asked for direction to the Swinging Sword Inn and made a show of telling Endrith they would return tomorrow to pick up the stuff they had ordered and apologising for the lateness of their arrival.
Garet noticed that although the town was quite that someone was watching them from the shadows. He did not say anything. Arriving at the Swinging Sword Inn (2) started a bedlam of activity. The proprietor, Kaylessa Irkle, her family had run the inn for a few years now, a human originally from Waterdeep. Servants ran to take horses to the stables; rooms were offered and more importantly a hot bath. Once the group had sorted themselves out Kaylessa promised a hearty meal with good ale or wine.
Aramil and Bandur agreed to share, so too Aerie and Garet. Karion and Grog took single rooms whilst Anor settled for the common room to sleep in.
They departed to their separate rooms as they had a few hours before the evening meal. Garet wanted to get his thoughts settled and formulate a plan for after tea. First he wanted to see if anyone was paying attention to them in the common area when they went for their meal.
As Aramil opened the door and ushered Bandur into the room
he waited for Bandur to choose his bed for the night. ‘Do you mind if I don’t have the one next to the
window he asked? Aramil was happy with either one. The room was by all standards pretty
typical of most inn rooms. The room was adequately, though sparsely furnished,
two single beds each with a small bed side table, furnished with a candleholder
and single candle. Wardrobe and washstand, the jug for washing water, filled
stood underneath the stand. One wardrobe should the occupants wish to hang clothes up. A table and chair
stood along the wall next to the wardrobe.
By the time Aramil had unpacked the few things he wanted
from his bag of holding Bandur was already prepared for his ‘polishing’ regime.
Aramil cast an eye over the tools of this most expert workman. Four small tins
laid out on the little table, each neatly inscribed: Oil, Lubricant,
Wax, and lastly Polish. The four polishing cloths placed neatly
beside each tin. A fifth much smoother cloth laid neatly folded by his side.
Bandur looked up at Aramil and said.
Bandur: “Now then young lad, you asked me to share the room
with you as you had questions you wished to ask me, so ask away;”
Aramil looked at Bandur, not quite so sure how to start the
conversation, he had thought about how and what questions to ask when the time
came. Aramil began.
Aramil: “Dear Bandur, I am very grateful that you give me
your time. I know I am young and very new to so much in life. I think you can
see the recent episode has caused me physical pain, as well as feeling very
unfairly treated. In the last year I
have met with six dwarves. None of whom have behaved in anything like the
manner I was taught to expect in my basic introductions in lessons on races and
creeds while at the Blackstaff Tower during my training. If I may explain?”
Bandur sat listening, looked up smiled, nodded at Aramil,
then returned head down to his polishing.
Aramil: “The first Dwarf I met was Gudrun Rockseeker. Because of circumstances I took his task as I
needed coin. I had little to do with him, but he was clearly a friendly sort,
expert miner and stone mason.”
Bandur snorted.
Bandur: “Gudrun and his brother are
both the same. In Gudruns own words ‘Entrepreneur Extraordinaire’. Pah. After
what they can get. But that is only a poor Shield Dwarfs opinion of two Gold
Dwarfs. Go on, apologies for interrupting”.
Aramil: “The next was Daugrin Stoneshield, owner of the
Forge Inn on the road north from Waterdeep to Neverwinter. He was at first
rather grouchy, I put that down to the general perception of how Dwarves and
Elves receive each other. However, after talking to him having mentioned my
exploits with Gudrun his attitude changed significantly. I showed him a wind-up
musical box that my father had given my mother at some stage after one of his
many expeditions away from home. Daugrin
said that it was commissioned by High King Orm Mountainsbane.”
Bandur: “There you go, another Gold
Dwarf, some kin of Fargrims I expect same clan.”
Aramil: “Then I met no others until my thankful release from
captivity by my current companions including your good self and Fargrim. No offense meant but from what I have seen
you and Fargrim could not be more different in manner or from what I have
experienced attitude either.”
Bandur: “No explanations needed,
Shield Dwarf…. Gold Dwarf.”
Aramil: “More recently another conundrum, Bruldenthar who I
believe is your cousin?”
Bandur, paused his polishing, looked up at Aramil, nodded
said nothing and returned head down to his polishing. Aramil continued.
Aramil: “Lastly the Delegate Rhundorth. And it is with him
that I have much problem and personal grievance. Unlike your cousin who was
both grateful for his release and even more so for the return of his historic
tombs. Rhundorth displayed neither gratitude for his release and near certain
death, but within seconds of his release, an unprovoked attack upon me. Even after he was corrected about his
mistaken ill-judged belief, he has not apologised in a manner accepted by
Elves. He must know that if I had not identified him, he would have been left
to die. Frankly I wish I had left him there to die. Surely if he is anything
worthy of the position of a diplomat or delegate he should have known
better. And as for his ‘show off
egotistical display’ in the great hall with Garett, it didn’t help him when he
was captured did it? Why should I be
considered to be the wrong party in all this, it was me who was harmed not him?”
Aramil now red faced with anger, just thinking about the
incident all over again just made him even more angry.
Bandur: “Finished now have you, feel better for that do you?
Now calm down and think, what do you actually want to know?”
Aramil, paused, deep breath, exhaled, and continued.
Aramil: “Sorry Bandur, it is just so unfair.”
Bandur (with a smile): “Welcome to the real world”.
Aramil continued:
Aramil: “I just don’t understand how am I supposed to behave toward so many different groups, ‘clan’ is I believe the correct collective for your good selves is it not? How am I supposed to know which clan has what beliefs and what they feel is acceptable behaviour and what is not? How do I recognise one clan from another, it seems impossible to me? How can me being offered to punch him, be considered in any way satisfactory and sufficient retribution for what he did to me? Why can’t he just say thank you for saving his life, sorry for making a wrong judgement call based on his wrong perception and offer a handshake. Why can’t he just admit he was wrong?”
Bandur stopped his polishing, placed the polishing cloth down,
neatly folded once more by the appropriate tin. Looked up at Aramil, smiled,
and replied;……
Bandur: “Firstly, and I’m going to be blunt
here lad, you’ve got to get that High Elf chip off your shoulder. High Elf, you
ain’t. Elf, you ain’t. Your half of nothing and half of bugger all else. To
humans you’re an Elf, to Elves you’re a human. To a Dwarf you ain’t neither.
Get over it.”
Aramil stared eyes wide open at Bandur’s
bluntness.
Bandur: “Secondly to a Dwarf clan is everything. Followed by King. Followed by bugger all else. I’m 51 years of age, young for a Dwarf. I was 44 when the War of the Silver Marches begun.
Drow minions of Quenthel Baenre incited
the Frost Giant of the Shinning White and two white dragons, Arauthator and Aurbangras, to all with the Orcs of the Kingdom of Many-Arrows, where the warmonger Hartusk had gained
the power."
Bandur had tears in his eyes as he continued.
“Nesme was destroyed and Sundabar, on the surface, was conquered. All dwarfholds in the area— Citadel Adbar, Felbarr and Mithril Hall—and later also Silverymoon were besieged.
During the Battle of the Cold Vale, Bromm, one of the twin kings of Citadel Adbar, was tricked by the half-drow Doum'wielle Armgo and beheaded by Hartusk.
At last, in the spring of 1485 DR, Bruenor managed to unite all the dwarven forces to retake the River Surbrin bridge from the forces of Many-Arrows. I stood side by side with a Dwarf fighter from Mirabar, Rhundorth was his name. I have never seen such a fury in a Dwarf before. He didn’t just kill, he slaughtered and relished in it. He had lost his father, 2 brothers and an uncle at the Battle of Cold Vale. Even then he was a mighty Dwarven warrior.”
Aramil: “So, did you win?”
Bandur: “If winnings what you call it, then yes we won. If you want to learn more it's all in this Dwarven Tome we got, it's entitled 'A History of the Northern Dwarfholds During the War of the Silver Marches'.”
Aramil was still silent, Bandur realised he was waiting for answers to his other questions.
Bandur: “Now for Rhundorth to let
you punch him is a Mirabaran Dwarf way of saying sorry. He hit you, you hit
him. End of. Now how you recognise different clans, you can’t. Don’t even try.
And don’t ask a Dwarf if he’s this clan or that, you’ll just…. well, you’ll
upset them. Accept them for what they are as they accept you for what you are.
Now Karion is a good example, he’s
Wood Elf, they will accept most races, well friendly races, on face value. Take
awhile for them to really trust you. But if you don’t do anything to them, they
wont do anything to you. Dwarves will fight at the drop of a hat. Especially
the prickly Gold Dwarf kind. Northern Dwarves, that’s us Shield Dwarves are
reserved until we get to know you. I know you. I trust you, Rhundorth thought you had betrayed the Delegation with your patron. Now he knows differently. But a Dwarf
of Rhundorths reputation ain’t going to openly apologise, he would consider
that a sign of weakness. So, he gave you the chance of showing your worth by
hitting him, the harder the better and in public. But you declined his offer, a
more than generous offer if you ask me. By accepting and standing still you
proved to him your worth. Now he considers you, well he considers you ……well
you can draw your own picture.”
Aramil sat in silent thought.
Bandur: “Now you take Garet, he’s a
half-elf. Quiet, unassuming just gets on with it. His actions speak louder than
words. He’s careful around others, chooses his words wisely. His Wood Elf half
shines through. He could be part Dwarf.”
Bandur started laughing heartily and
slapped Aramil on the back.
Bandur: “Don’t take this to heart
lad but take heed, it may save your life one day”.
Bandur went back to polishing and
cleaning his weapons and reading the Dwarven Tome on the bed before him.
No sooner had Garet and Aerie entered their room than the air shimmered and Fabien and Zindra appeared beside them. Garet realised he had the central pendent and this was to be expected.
They both brought Fabien and Zindra up to speed and a plan was hatched. For neither Fabien nor Zindra had been seen entering the Inn.
Garet quietly left the room and came back shortly after. Aerie would go tell the others what was happening, whilst Garet led Fabien and Zindra into the room next door, which was unoccupied. He slid the latches on the window and they all slipped out into the area at the side of the inn. Whilst Zindra and Fabien made a drunken spectacle of themselves, walking down the road, Garet slipped over the road and into the shadows of the large building opposite.
He was sure that on the other side of the building was the person or persons, he had a premonition of, were watching the inn. Sure enough he could see a cloaked figure crouching down in the shadows. Two swift blows of his sticks and he hoisted the bulky cloak but not very heavy figure over his shoulder and back to the inn the way he had come. By this time Zindra and Fabien had entered the inn and were asking for rooms. A quiet and subdued Aramil was sitting at the table with the others. Garet appeared from the direction of the rooms and told Aerie that she needed t come with him, now. Such was the urgency in his voice she did so.
Throughout the next hour or two Bandur insisted he should buy the drinks and he took with him, 1 by 1 when buying the drinks the others save Aramil. Aramil was still very quiet and drinking his usual non-alcoholic beverage, at this inn it was goats milk and honey.
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Aerie was astonished to find a young lad laying on the bed in their room. He couldn't be more than 10 years old. He had a bloody wound on the back of his head. Aerie healed him and was soothing him with a soft Elvish song when his eyes opened in abject terror. But he clamed, for Aerie had cast a zone of truth around the bed and was very gentle with the lad. She started asking questions and after a suitable bribe of 4 gold pieces the lad told them all he knew.
The lad was called Braelen Hatherhand. He told them he was paid to watch for travellers stopping at the Swinging Sword Inn by the owner of the Helm at Highsun, the other inn across the road. Owned by Garlen Harlathurl.
When asked if he knew anything about the believers, where they met he was more forthcoming.
The Believers are a secret group
made up of some of the most important people in town of Red Larch.
Grund: Male Half-orc (Whome he deosn't like as he has hit me a few times.
Baragustas Harbuckler: Male Human
Aerego
Bethendur: Male Human
Albaeri Mellikho: Female human
Elak Dornen: Male Human
Ilmeth Waelvur: Male Human
Marlandro Gaelkur: Male Human
Ulhro Luruth: Male Human
Rotharr Hatherhand: Male Human (The lads father)
They meet, not often, but definitely on a full moon night. They meet under Waelvur's Wagonworks, on the crossroads. They have a cellar round the back near some old broken wagons and he gets paid 2cp's to watch the cellar door. He's not seen everyone go as some are already there when his father goes and some arrive afterwards. He didn't want them to hurt his father and Garet and Aerie promised they would try not to. They gave the lad the 4 gold pieces and let him out of the same window Garet hoisted him in through.
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Sticking to the plan Karion made a show that he was going to see his horse and the others were ok. He left the Inn and as he approached the stables stepped into the shadows. Sure he hadn't been followed he took out the owl feathers and rubbed them together. His form slowly changed into that of an owl and he took off to spy the town. He flew over the quarries and the town but there was no movement. Suddenly he saw a young boy climbing out of a side window of the inn. He swooped lower as the young lad ran over the road then looped north. The lad was quick. Karion lost him amongst a group of houses opposite the northern quarry.
He did one more circuit then headed back. As he re-entered the inn Aerie and Garet were back at the table. Garet filled the group in on the information they had got out of the young lad. Karion told them he had seen the lad and followed him but lost him in the north of town.
As Fabien and Zindra needed horses they asked the bar tender the best place to procure such mounts. They were told that only Waelvur would have any horses this late in the season.
Another plan was quickly debated. They would proceed to Waelvur's Wagonworks on the pretence of purchasing mounts and take it from there.
Bandur was looking downhearted, Aramil was still very quiet. Bandur looked up:
Bandur: ' Look, I've been reading this Dwarven Tome. It's a history of the War of the Silver Marches. My interest you might ask?, Well I fought in that war but that's another story. (Bandur turned to Aramil). Sorry to pour more oil on the fire but the tome has a piece in about your father, Lord Lorimer Fandin, correct?'
Aramil looked up and nodded.
Bandur: ' It ain't all good my friend, so I'll keep it short.......... (read the War of the Silver Marches post for the tale).'
Aramil did not sleep that night. Bandur snored his way through the night holding on tight to his favourite polishing and rubbing cloth (which was just an old sock!)
(TBC)
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