Day Four
Village of Briarsgate
Late afternoon. Wednesday, October 19th, 576 CY
Chilly, misty, threatening rain
The Grey Mouser notices no new graves in the
Cemetery (
west of 4).
Upon reaching the first crossroads in the village of Briarsgate, your group begins to make plans and then abruptly disbands, heading in five directions at once!
Long Bo the Druid looks into the open door of the stone, spartan
Constable's Quarters (
2).
"Can we help you, old man?" asks the tallest of three men inside, not unkindly. They had been talking softly among themselves but stopped at the Druid's appearance.
"How do you do? I am Magistrate Ruskadel," continues the tall man in banded mail with sharply intelligent eyes:
"This is Chief Constable Donavan Allard," he says, introducing a sullen warrior in plate mail:
"And Constable Hulbar Onfre," he says, indicating a pale, blotchy, older man in banded armor:
Both men make some more or less appropriate greeting.
All three wear long swords.
The Magistrate asks,
"You are a stranger here, are you not?"
"What brings you to our little town? And, pray tell, how might we be of service?" he asks politely, his mouth smiling beneath those piercing, observant eyes that seemed always to be watching.
Telkis the Gnome goes looking for a mole, in two senses of the word. Turning west, he sees the other side of the briar wall, for which the village is named, abloom with blood red roses.
He tramps out into the middle of the
Pasture (
west of 1), sending sheep scattering, and taps the edge of the molehill.
“What the?!” he hears from within, in Molish.
“I’ll be. It’s a Gnome! Wait here. I’ll handle this!”
Then a mole pops up.
“I’m called Thompkins. What do you want, knocking on my house like that?!”
Telkis politely asks after its health, and the quality of the grubs and worms in the area. Then after the requisite formalities, he asks if it's noticed any unusual vibrations from the big folk lately, or any other unusual occurrences. As the gnome makes his inquiries, the venerable, 4-year-old grandfather mole scrutinizes him with a skeptical squint and scowl.
When Telkis finishes talking, the crotchety old mole says,
“Listen, Sonny! It’s true I’ve been here a while. But I make it my job to avoid the big folk! And I never venture beyond this meadow! But with that said, even we can tell that over the past year, things have changed. Something’s different. The Farmer isn’t the same. I can see it in his eye. But I don’t know what it is.
"Criminy! Now you’ve gone and done it. Here he comes!”
Thompkins jumps back down his hole and Telkis sees a farmer approaching, with his three grown sons and a dog. They have pitchforks and other deadly farming tools, not held in a threatening way but held just the same.
“Can I help you, Mister?” calls out the old farmer from a distance of 30 feet.
Hoom Feethos bids farewell to his traveling companions and strolls to the
Moneychanger (
7).
He finds that the moneychanger is also the jeweler. His name is painted on the sign over the door:
“F. A. Praetorius, proprietor.” Hoom recognizes the name but the small stone building is shut tight by doors and shutters of heavy wood, reinforced with iron bands.
Hoom sees that every other shoppe on this road is open for business.
Then he hears Pelias shouting...
Grothnak and Pelias stand in a
Crossroad (
near 6) and Pelias loudly pronounces:
"Citizens of Briarsgate! We feel privileged to walk your streets and have the company of you fine people! I understand your wariness of us - we are an odd collection of beings to be sure, and we appear to have come to you from an inhospitable wood! Alas, we fought evil in that wood just the previous day, and I pledge to you that if you be of good nature, we are your friends. Might there be somebody of authority we can speak to, my dear fellows?"
The nearby townsfolk are stunned silent for a moment.
Different emotions play across the faces that stare back at the young paladin. Astonishment. Skepticism. Scorn. Disbelief. Mistrust. Derision. Fear. Anger. Hope.
They look among themselves before venturing to answer this stranger. Some walk away. Quickly.
Finally,
“I expect it’s the Chief Constable you’ll be wantin’,” says a skeptical villager with a sack of oats on his back, nodding West.
“Or the Magistrate,” says a mistrusting farmer quietly.
“Or p'raps the Lord Mayor,” says a disbelieving merchant in a shop apron, jerking his thumb Eastward down the main road.
The Grey Mouser, Ingrid and Vodarte enter the
Golden Grain Inn (
6) just before Pelias makes his plea.
The common room of the inn is a warm, pleasant place with several barrels of ale tapped behind the bar.
But the customers, mostly farmers and locals by the looks of them, grow silent at your entrance. They turn and appraise you strangers with wary, suspicious eyes.
A gentleman approaches you.
“Welcome. I’m Bertram Beswill, the innkeeper here."
"I'm afraid you’ll have to forgive us. We don’t get many strangers lately,” he smiles wistfully for a moment. Then:
“Where are my manners? What can I do for you, please?”
Bertram evinced a soft-spoken sensitivity and intelligence that was more befitting a scholar than an innkeeper. Perhaps he had studied as a younger man?
At the innkeeper's welcome, the locals slowly return to their own conversations.
Status:
Elden Vodarte, Human Ranger 2: AC 3, HP 20/20
The Grey Mouser, Half-Elf Magic-User/Thief 1/2: AC 4, HP 10/10, Spells: 1/1 1st lvl
Grothnak Uthglukh, Half-Orc Fighter 2: AC 4, HP 13/17
Hoom Feethos, Elven Magic-User/Thief 1/2: AC 3, HP 6/8, Spells: 1/1 1st lvl
Ingrid Esthof, Human Cleric 3: AC 3(1), HP 14/16, Spells: 3/4 1st lvl and 3/3 2nd lvl
Long Bo, Human Druid 2: AC 6, HP 15/15, Spells: 4/4 1st lvl and 1/2 2nd lvl
Pelias Blanchflower, Human Paladin 2: AC 2, HP 18/19
Telkis Brassfang, Gnome Fighter 2: AC 0, HP 15/19
Magic:
Protection from Evil (Pelias): -2 to AC and +2 to saving throws against evil, in a 10 foot radius around Pelias.
Partial Map of Briarsgate
