CHAPTER ONE: It all starts, oddly enough, in a tavern...

[Gelatinous Q]

Ratikhill, 576 CY
The seventh and final day of Brewfest

Background
Typically, a raucous, highly anticipated event, this year’s Feast of Wenta has been strangely subdued in the frontier town of Ratikhill. True, living in the shadow of the Kalman Pass — once an essential trade route with the south, now little more than a thoroughfare for the marauding hordes of Bone March — has inured the town’s citizens to a certain native pensiveness, an expectation that the other boot may drop at any moment. But even by normal standards, the mood here is sour.

The preceding summer has seen a rash of ill omens throughout the countryside — failed crops, weird borealae, portentous births. In Optwall, blight has ravaged much of the village’s grain crops and stores. And in the coastal village of Fadric, a dead tide comprised of thousands of desiccated crabs rolled ashore with Celene’s new moon in Goodmonth. Nor, if reports are to be believed, are the portents confined to Ratik. Pestilence is rumored to have swept the Pale and the capital city of Wintershiven is under quarantine. Also: whispers of a peasant revolt in the making in the northern counties of North Province, where famine and disease have taken root in the last several months. And once again, the humanoid armies to the south are mobilizing. Just two weeks ago, the Baron’s men turned back a large detachment of orcs and hobgoblins in the Kalman Pass, taking grievous losses in the process. How quickly the jubilant mood that followed last year’s Fruztii-aided victories in Bone March has dissipated!

Today’s weather matches the gloomy spirit of the times, dawning clear and bright until a low pressure system blew in from the southeast in mid-morning. Now lodged firmly against the Rakers, the downpour hasn’t abated for six solid hours. The foul weather is what’s driven you into The Marble Harpy, a tavern a mere stone’s throw from Ratikhill’s Marner Gate, earlier than usual. A week in town and you’ve yet to find work, all prospective employers seeking a more seasoned crew. Your finances dwindle by the day. Autumn begins tomorrow and with it the certainty of a long, lean winter to follow.

Your locale
Most travelers in Ratikhill will recognize The Marble Harpy on sight — understandable, as a life-sized, finely detailed marble harpy sits perched above the tavern’s entrance, a crudely stenciled signboard clutched in its claws. Inside, patrons find the sort of place where the haunches of ham draped from the rafters taste more of pipe smoke than the smokehouse. Nonetheless, it is spotless and amicable, and the proprietor, one Hagedorn Grisbie and his wife, Ysolde, are renowned for their hospitality and honest, nourishing fare.

[Gelatinous Q]

As the evenings revels continue, you notice that two of the soldiers who had gone upstairs earlier have re-emerged and now, garbed in plain clothes, hover by the staircase, apparently taking measure of the patronage and occasionally exchanging observations. Eventually, the older of the two — about 50ish, judging from his graying hair, drooping moustache and the creases around his eyes — tall and sturdily built, strides toward the two tables where sit Savik and Gordon at one, Ulf, Bran and Iomhar at the other. (Glogs stands at the bar just behind them.)

“Gentlemen,” he begins. “You’ll pardon my intrusion — likewise my presumption that you’re sellswords who are wanting for work. That is, if these old eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.” He lets out a wistful sort of laugh, then gestures toward the chair next to Gordon. “I wonder if I might sit for a moment and speak with you about a matter of no small import.” Again, gesturing toward the chair: “May I?”

[emirikol57]

Ulfronde finishes off his ale and signals for another. The gnome then fixes the curl in his mustache before responding to the older soldier; Well my good man, the ale is good and I currently have no pressing matters to attend to.

[Argennian]

When Savik sees the two soldiers looking them over and talking amongst themselves, he's instantly alert and suspicious. He keeps a feigned impartial expression on his visage as he pretends not to take more than a cursory notice. He motions to Gordon with his eyes as he passes him a cup of tea.

As both soldiers approach and the older of the two offers his speech and asks to be seated, Savik looks him and the other one over closely, attempting to gauge their true bent and intent.

When his fellow patron the gnome casually responds, Savik stands slowly, looking the older man straight in the eye. After a brief pause, the elf averts his gaze and offers them both a respectful nod, gesturing to the empty seat with his free hand while his other rests upon the tabletop. "Please, be seated and continue with your... story."

[Alethan]

"Yes, yes, do join us," Bran warmly replies.

[onlyme]

Maclyr just nods, smiles, and sets his ale aside. He's in.

[Nuke66]

Gordon doesn't miss much with his eyes, and sees the situation transpire before it happens. He smoothly reaches for the chair next to him and slides it out answering the soldier's query. "I'd be happy to have you join us if you are buying the drinks, since, as you have said I am wanting for some gainful employment at the moment."

He is not very suspicious in here, even though the moods is a bit sour, and typical soldiers are rather law-abiding folk. Not waiting for an answer, Gordon waves the serving wench over.

[Gelatinous Q]

“Thank you kindly, gentlemen,” the veteran says, seating himself next to Gordon. “It has been a long, wearying day. At my age, this sort of weather just settles in your bones.” He politely waves off Ysolde as she attempts to serve him an ale. “Nay, none for me, landlady.

"Lads, let me be brief. My name is Ollenstask — Zaillo Ollenstask — and my comrades and I serve a patroness of considerable wealth and power whose holding lies about eight leagues west of where we sit. I am, in fact, the captain of her guard. She wishes to sponsor an expeditionary group much like your own to assist in the retrieval of an item of some value to her.

“Here’s the rub: milady has given me no detail as to what the item in question is, nor what its salvage might entail. If I may be frank, she’s been more damnably secretive on this topic than I have ever known her to be! She has, however, been very specific about a price: 500 gold imperials to the party that successfully locates the item and delivers it to her in the agreed-upon timeframe, some of which will be payable in advance. So you can see, her intent is quite serious.

“I’m afraid there’s little more I can divulge at the moment. Due to the secrecy with which she’s treated this commission, I’m hesitant to even reveal milady’s name in mixed company, though you may have recognized her standard when we arrived. Should you choose to ride with us tomorrow for her stronghold, she will instruct you more fully as to what it is you seek. We ride at dawn.”

Savik notices that Captain Ollenstask’s associate keeps a sharp eye on the room while his commanding officer is speaking, at one point intercepting a drunkard approaching your tables, brusquely turning him in the direction from which he came.

[Nuke66]

Gordon listens to the captain finish his story, releasing a low whistle when he hears 500 gold.

"Well good man, that is a lot to digest in a moment or two, I am sure we will want to ponder this a bit. Though, off the top of my head, I'd say it doesn't hurt to hear the lady out"

[Argennian]

As he and his fellow patrons hear the guard captain's telling of his mistress' proposal, Savik's visage remains blank and unchanged. He looks around the group gathered, to gauge reactions, as the wheels in his mind begin to spin fanatically. Perhaps this was a fortune of fate to be here at the Marble Harpy on the this cold, rainy eve? Or perhaps it's an invitation to more danger and dread than he or any of his now-apparent fellow searchers realize at present? Either way, the wood elf takes a long drag off his pipe and after Gordon says his piece, responds in kind.

"I, too, am interested in hearing more of this from your mistress. Better we hear all of the details before we can truly measure the risks involved. Tell me, good captain, how many other groups or individuals have been approached in regards to this... errand?"

[emirikol57]

Ulfronde takes a swig out of his tankard. I agree, what harm can come from hearing your mistress out?
Ulfronde also thinks about his near empty coin purse.....

[Alethan]

Bran looks up at the ceiling for a moment, weighing his options and saying a silent prayer of guidance to Clanggedin.

After a few seconds, his battle axe, which had been propped up against the table, falls to the floor, its handle pointing at Ollenstask.

"That was fast," he murmurs to himself as he reaches to his chest to touch his iron pendant of crossed battle axes. He quickly reaches down and picks his axe back up to lean it against the table once more.

Then, in a louder voice, "Aye, that does sound like a proposition worth investigating, though I might add," he looks around at the number of people gathered, "splitting 600 crowns between six people is a more tempting offer."

[Opabinia]

Glogs listens to the talk between Ollenstask and the party and drinks his ale. When his cup is emptied, he wipes it out with a clean cloth he keeps for this purpose, ties the cup by its handle to a leather thong on his pack, and approaches the table. "Sir," he says to Ollenstask, "your Lady requires sinew and steel for such an undertaking. I come off two years duty in the border guard and am fully-equipped. You'd be remiss in your duty not to include me in the party."

He shifts his pole to the crook of his other arm. "If I may be so bold as to say so. Sir."

[Gelatinous Q]

Captain Ollenstask grins broadly. “This is a relief, men,” he says. “We’ve turned out every public house, watering hole and wayside inn between Aurichold, Loegrimm and Tassin’s Wood. ‘Struth, I’d begun to despair of ever finding the likes of you — a little peace and prosperity always does thin the ranks of the adventuring class, I suppose. I could’ve saved myself so much time in the saddle had I come to Ratikhill first.

“In answer to your question, master elf, we’ve spoken with four or five other groups regarding this matter, only one of whom rose to the challenge. They rode with us from Aurichold and had an audience with our mistress, but she found them … wanting. She was right about that, too, for they cleared out that very same night, but not before pilfering from our storehouse.

He turns to Bran. “As to haggling over your fee, squire, that will have to be taken up with milady. Your request doesn’t sound unreasonable to me, but I don’t hold the purse-strings either!

“If we are in agreement, gentlemen, and you have no other questions to put to me, I will see you just outside the Marner Gate at dawn. We’ll have fresh horses for you. The ride will take the better part of the day, and I expect you to have your wits about you —“

At this point, Ollenstask is interrupted by a general uproar across the barroom. The hurdy-gurdy player, a bleary-eyed wretch with more gaps in his mouth than teeth and a rat’s nest of hair atop his head, has climbed atop the bar to much hooting and hollering.

“Friends,” he rasps, “I’ll thank ye for your kind indulgence while I dedicate my next song to our most esteemed guests.”

Some nervous laughter. Ysolde tugs at his leg and scolds, “Boddenthwaite! Come down from there this instant!”

Instead, he pumps out the opening bars of another shanty and starts to bellow:
Who brings woe and calls it custom?
Who calls down curses so sweetly blest?
Who’d charm the breeches off St. Cuthbert?
Hail to the whore o’ the west!

At this apparent provocation, Ollenstask’s subordinate fairly flies toward the singer; only an unexpectedly adroit horse-collar from the Captain keeps him from reaching his target.

“Why you impudent whoreson! Keep singing, you dissembling, tallow-faced coward!” the soldier spits as he struggles against Ollenstask’s grasp. “I’ll have your snow-white liver on the end of my blade ere you finish the second verse!”

“Hold, Dalthellan,” says Ollenstask. “’Tis only a song, nothing more.” After a few moments, he relaxes his grip and Dalthellan retreats, sulking, upstairs. In the ruckus, the bard has fallen over in a fit of laughter that by the sound of it may well soon turn to retching.

“You’ll forgive Sergeant Dalthellan,” Ollenstask remarks as if nothing particularly out of the ordinary just took place. “A good man, but a choleric temper. Now, where were we?”

[Alethan]

Bran pushes his tankard to the center of the table and replies, "I believe we were all turning in to be well-rested for a long ride in the morning!"

With that, he stands, retrieves his axe, pays Ysolde for a double room for the evening (Character sheet updated), and retires.

After he breaks fast before the sun rise in the morning (sausage and mash, Character sheet updated), Bran will be found waiting at the gate.

[onlyme]

Maclyr expected and took the hint. No more ale this dreary eve. He offers his share of a double room. He looks at his potential adventuring partners and says, I don't have the funds to waste, so if any of you want to split the fare, might as well. I would rather kill you now if you try to steal or worse, than to have to in some damned death trap.

With that, he waits for a taker and wipes some dried blood off his dagger. Dawn can't come early enough for his financial health...

[Opabinia]

Maclyr expected and took the hint. No more ale this dreary eve. He offers his share of a double room. He looks at his potential adventuring partners and says, I don't have the funds to waste, so if any of you want to split the fare, might as well. I would rather kill you now if you try to steal or worse, than to have to in some damned death trap.

With that, he waits for a taker and wipes some dried blood off his dagger. Dawn can't come early enough for his financial health...

Glogs will stand for a share of a double, assuming you aren't lousy.

Updated character sheet for price of half a double room and a plate of ham, cheese, and bread (hold the plate).

[onlyme]

Maclyr doesn't waste time falling asleep. Those two cups of ale and the steady rain win out over any distrust of Glogs.

The next morning he finds himself at the gate just before dawn. . He is well fed, rested and eager for adventure.


changed char sheet to account for split room and ham platter

[Argennian]

Savik nods to the guard captain after he says his piece and offers him another respectful nod. "A good evening to you then, sir. I will be at the gate, as well."

Once the captain has followed his hot-headed sergeant upstairs to bed, Savik will take his time finishing his tea and evening smoke, asking Gordon half-elven if he would like to share a room there.

After things settle down a bit, Savik will make his way over to the bar. He would like to casually pose some questions to both the Grisbies and the impromptu tavern-singer about what they know or have heard about the captain's mistress. Being new to this place, he'd like to get an idea of how she's viewed by the common folk.

[emirikol57]

Ulfronde enjoys another 2-3 tankards of the exceptional ale. He then pays for a single bed and ham/cheese/bread for breakfast. ( sheet updated)

When an opportunity arises, Ulfronde will thanks Hagedorn for the good drink.

Ulfronde makes sure he is just outside of the Marner Gate before dawn.