The Tavern - Tales of the Flickering Light
The Tavern - Tales of the Flickering Light
This thread will be made up of various stories told about the adventures of the A Flickering Light campaign in the voices of the characters themselves. This is the place to look if you just want to see what they've all been up to without wading through thread after thread of Action posts. Stay tuned! One story will be posted per Adventure.
Re: The Tavern - Tales of the Flickering Light
The public house at Estwatch is, at this time of day, customarily without much patronage. The landlord often spends this time cleaning cups and plates, or having the floor washed with nettle water. Occasionally a client or two will huddle in the corner for a time, but otherwise the place is vacant.
It is at this quiet time in the tavern that Raizenbrayne, Who is Unforeseen will find himself sitting at a table just opposite the drinking barrels. He will be sipping on some diluted wine as he waits for the other members of his party to finish their business in town. Presently, the landlord Garick—a man of many means and personalities—will have just tossed a pail of soapy water across the floor nearby, and after ordering his worker to sweep, will come to sit himself across from the young wizard, his own cup in hand.
Garick will comment on Raizenbrayne's ragged demeanour, and tell him that a good night's rest in a warm bed would do him service. Raizenbrayne will laugh, and thank Garick, but inform him politely that he has no plans to stay in town tonight, and last night he was occupied at the flophouse down the road. 'Bah!' Garick will say. 'A night there's not worth the price of admission.' At this point, Raizenbrayne's injured pride will get the best of him, and he will speak up a retort of his own. 'Perhaps if your good baron were more giving in his rewards, I might have the mind to sleep in an overcharging institution such as yours. Would you care to make up the difference?' 'Tch,' the bruiseless Garick will reply, 'It is bad form to lampoon the baron in here. But there's no reason to be sore, I would have offered you a slight discount as a friend of Agrom and solver of Damring's mystery. Besides, you must have gold spilling from your every pore after that expedition.'
It is here that Raizenbrayne, Who is Unforeseen will erupt in a way his mentor, had he seen it, would have said is unbecoming of wizards. 'Nothing! That is what we have yielded in our expedition: nothing! Would I look in this state if I had more than two bits to my name?' Garick will smile sympathetically and wait for Raizenbrayne to finish gulping his wine in frustration, for he will have seen then that the wizard would confide in him about their secret adventure at Damring. 'Harlan had his grasp on that beautiful amulet, there right in the palm of his hand. You should have seen it. We had found it in a crow's hideaway. It glowed so elegantly, it was nearly illuminant. That trinket alone could have bought us the whole town, but no: it is lost, beneath the submerged nest of some great reptilian demon who now has the taste of wizard's and halfling's flesh in its mouth.'
'That is bad luck, indeed'—here Garick will interject with practiced precision, coaxing more from his companion at the table—'but surely there were more treasures to be had elsewhere? Damring is large ruin, I hear.' Raizenbrayne will then have to clutch at the weak and damaged ribs on his left side after snorting too enthusiastically. 'Yes, but all gone as well. If those lucid crows had picked anything else of value, it does not matter. All of it has fallen into the lair of the reptile. There was another collector of things at the fortress, some ugly little kobold who fancied himself the priest of a long-silent god. Your good friend Agrom was nearly killed by that treacherous runt—twice—and in return he tossed him into the water to meet the reptile. Now he will never tell us where he might have hid away the rest of Damring's secrets. And the orb! The whole purpose of the journey, all in shatters there on the ground. What will I tell the elders at the wizard's guild now? They were relying on that—.'
Raizenbrayne is usually quite capable of knowing when he is divulging too much of his own secrets, but this time it will be the bemused Garick's raised eyebrow that warns him to stay his tongue. 'Well, at any rate, it is gone. It can be recreated, but to do so would require a knowledge of and commitment to advanced demonology, which I have no interest in touching. In all, the god who haunts that place has gone mad, the demon Kinrender has escaped from the confines of the orb and taints the region once again, and now orcs once again swarm the forest. We return from these inviting hosts broken and bruised, and with all of this to show for our efforts: a pretty sword, a book of dead religion, and a cursed halfling.' One of Raizenbrayne's habits is to try draining the last drops of liquid from his cup after it is already empty, as he enjoys the brief dramatic pause it lends to his monologues. 'And I have been poisoned, which your illustrious town healer was nonplused to cure.'
The conversation will not be a very long one overall, but eventually Garick will have to begin averting his attention to the trickle of patrons wandering in from the market for luncheon. 'It is a tragic narrative you give. You will have to excuse my impertinence at leaving you so promptly, but as you see, I have custom. But tell me, for I am interested: what do you all plan to do next?' At that, the young wizard will look into his cup, slowly rotating to watch the single last drop of wine rolling along the bottom. A smack of the lips then a sigh, and he will stand up to gather his things, tossing a coin onto the table. 'Return, of course.'
It is at this quiet time in the tavern that Raizenbrayne, Who is Unforeseen will find himself sitting at a table just opposite the drinking barrels. He will be sipping on some diluted wine as he waits for the other members of his party to finish their business in town. Presently, the landlord Garick—a man of many means and personalities—will have just tossed a pail of soapy water across the floor nearby, and after ordering his worker to sweep, will come to sit himself across from the young wizard, his own cup in hand.
Garick will comment on Raizenbrayne's ragged demeanour, and tell him that a good night's rest in a warm bed would do him service. Raizenbrayne will laugh, and thank Garick, but inform him politely that he has no plans to stay in town tonight, and last night he was occupied at the flophouse down the road. 'Bah!' Garick will say. 'A night there's not worth the price of admission.' At this point, Raizenbrayne's injured pride will get the best of him, and he will speak up a retort of his own. 'Perhaps if your good baron were more giving in his rewards, I might have the mind to sleep in an overcharging institution such as yours. Would you care to make up the difference?' 'Tch,' the bruiseless Garick will reply, 'It is bad form to lampoon the baron in here. But there's no reason to be sore, I would have offered you a slight discount as a friend of Agrom and solver of Damring's mystery. Besides, you must have gold spilling from your every pore after that expedition.'
It is here that Raizenbrayne, Who is Unforeseen will erupt in a way his mentor, had he seen it, would have said is unbecoming of wizards. 'Nothing! That is what we have yielded in our expedition: nothing! Would I look in this state if I had more than two bits to my name?' Garick will smile sympathetically and wait for Raizenbrayne to finish gulping his wine in frustration, for he will have seen then that the wizard would confide in him about their secret adventure at Damring. 'Harlan had his grasp on that beautiful amulet, there right in the palm of his hand. You should have seen it. We had found it in a crow's hideaway. It glowed so elegantly, it was nearly illuminant. That trinket alone could have bought us the whole town, but no: it is lost, beneath the submerged nest of some great reptilian demon who now has the taste of wizard's and halfling's flesh in its mouth.'
'That is bad luck, indeed'—here Garick will interject with practiced precision, coaxing more from his companion at the table—'but surely there were more treasures to be had elsewhere? Damring is large ruin, I hear.' Raizenbrayne will then have to clutch at the weak and damaged ribs on his left side after snorting too enthusiastically. 'Yes, but all gone as well. If those lucid crows had picked anything else of value, it does not matter. All of it has fallen into the lair of the reptile. There was another collector of things at the fortress, some ugly little kobold who fancied himself the priest of a long-silent god. Your good friend Agrom was nearly killed by that treacherous runt—twice—and in return he tossed him into the water to meet the reptile. Now he will never tell us where he might have hid away the rest of Damring's secrets. And the orb! The whole purpose of the journey, all in shatters there on the ground. What will I tell the elders at the wizard's guild now? They were relying on that—.'
Raizenbrayne is usually quite capable of knowing when he is divulging too much of his own secrets, but this time it will be the bemused Garick's raised eyebrow that warns him to stay his tongue. 'Well, at any rate, it is gone. It can be recreated, but to do so would require a knowledge of and commitment to advanced demonology, which I have no interest in touching. In all, the god who haunts that place has gone mad, the demon Kinrender has escaped from the confines of the orb and taints the region once again, and now orcs once again swarm the forest. We return from these inviting hosts broken and bruised, and with all of this to show for our efforts: a pretty sword, a book of dead religion, and a cursed halfling.' One of Raizenbrayne's habits is to try draining the last drops of liquid from his cup after it is already empty, as he enjoys the brief dramatic pause it lends to his monologues. 'And I have been poisoned, which your illustrious town healer was nonplused to cure.'
The conversation will not be a very long one overall, but eventually Garick will have to begin averting his attention to the trickle of patrons wandering in from the market for luncheon. 'It is a tragic narrative you give. You will have to excuse my impertinence at leaving you so promptly, but as you see, I have custom. But tell me, for I am interested: what do you all plan to do next?' At that, the young wizard will look into his cup, slowly rotating to watch the single last drop of wine rolling along the bottom. A smack of the lips then a sigh, and he will stand up to gather his things, tossing a coin onto the table. 'Return, of course.'