Chapter 0: The Gathering

[ybn1197]

Late that night, after the jailors have retired from the main hall of the dungeons, Grim hears a stirring in the cell next to his.

"Hey, boy," calls a voice, familiar after weeks of confinement. It belongs to Striborg, who was imprisoned for murdering a high-ranking officer of the King's Guard with poison. The King claims political motives; Striborg, in the middle of the night, claims not to have been responsible, but the act itself seems indifferent to him, as though it were an inevitability. "Hey boy," he calls again. "I think I might have missed my chance tonight. Thinking about it, I'd like to take this job on. If you vouch for me with the guard in the morning, I'd love to accompany you out the gates. I've no interest in a pardon, and even less interest in dying in the moor to the south. But I'd love to split a cache I've hidden out in the forest with you in thanks before I disappear for good. Sound like a deal?"

Grim sits silently for a moment, the cogs in his head spinning as he thinks over the proposition. "I don't agree with your offer Striborg; there is no profit in it for me. I vouch for you and you get set free. That's your profit. Then you split at the first chance and I am left with the others, my word worth even less since I vouched for you and you have left us. No, I think not. I have committed my crimes, but my word still means something if only to me."

[Sol]

Unther is pleased at Crabath's fighting skill and finds their mock battle invigorating. For several hours, they take barely a break, allowing steel to clank and clang in the training hall where they ultimately draw a small gaggle of spectators. Unther's bracers take many an incoming swing, suffering hardly ever a scratch. At the end, Unther disarms Crabanth with a flourish, saying nothing, but indicating his victory with a sort of good humored "hmmm" sound. He sheathes his own weapon, a longsword, and shakes the other dwarf's hand.

He signals one of the attendants of the hall to bring him a pair of canteens. He offers one to his friend before dousing his head and beard, shaking it off, and then drinking deep.

[Zorroroaster]

"Listen," he begins, haltingly. "I--I haven't really any family here, and you've been kind to me, helping me with difficult tasks and showing me some useful techniques--" That's right, Nai Tnam reflected, he had done those things. He smiled at the thought, almost as if in appreciation of the good works of another. The young man continued speaking, so he attempted to refocus his attention there. "--no family left, except my sister, and she's set to be married soon. I thought, I could come and perhaps make a name for myself as a guard for you, or a porter, or something. You know how hard-working I am. I can swing an axe, and my father had some armor I could bring along..."

He sits and ponders Lorik's request for some time, absentmindedly chewing on his bread. He is lost in thought long enough that the boy starts to become fidgety. He clears his throat.

"I will tell you something of me that I've not told anyone, for it is something you need to know should you choose to...accompany me," he begins. "It is well enough known down here that I have certain...abilities, gifts usually associated with the devout. When I close my eyes at night, I feel a presence around me, speaking to me. It asks things of me and grants me power, yet I do not know what forces I serve." He voice crackles with emotion. "I do not even know my own God, let alone myself! Hear this: you will not serve me, for I don't know who I myself serve. You may accompany me, but you will not serve me. I cannot have that on my conscience."

He pauses, to make sure the boy understands what he's saying. "I believe that our decisions are made with our hearts, in a place much deeper than reason or logic can go. We do what we do because we must. Everything else is either justification, or excuse. If you wish to join with me, I welcome you as a brother and will do my best to shelter and protect you. You must believe that you do this simply because it is necessary, not because you wish to ''make a name' for yourself."

"Heaven knows, boy. A name is something I cannot give you."

[hedgeknight]

Listening to his king issue the edict against the Black Druid, Dell waits and sees who will step forward, as is his habit; something his uncle taught him about being cautious when in unfamiliar territory.
When it appeared no one else would volunteer, he drew his sword and stepped forward with a bow.
"I am Dell Redsword and I offer myself and my sword in pledge to this venture, my king."

Apologies for the late arrival fellers; DM, if this post is out of place, please remove it and put it where it belongs.

[Keehnelf]

Just fine where it is. I'll do another post in a bit to get you caught up with the others. Be sure to round out your inventory (including weapons) using the rules in the character thread--don't worry about money.

[Keehnelf]

Grim sits silently for a moment, the cogs in his head spinning as he thinks over the proposition. "I don't agree with your offer Striborg; there is no profit in it for me. I vouch for you and you get set free. That's your profit. Then you split at the first chance and I am left with the others, my word worth even less since I vouched for you and you have left us. No, I think not. I have committed my crimes, but my word still means something if only to me."

There's silence for a long time, twenty minutes at least, punctuated only by the slow pacing of Striborg's bare feet along the stone floor of his cell. "Well," his voice, breathy and excited, breaks in at last. "Would you consider taking off with me? I know a path through the swamp to a settlement of gnomes that have a few dwarves. We could trek that way, leave all this druid nonsense behind, and retire a pair of rich dwarves. What do you say?"

[Keehnelf]

He sits and ponders Lorik's request for some time, absentmindedly chewing on his bread. He is lost in thought long enough that the boy starts to become fidgety. He clears his throat.

"I will tell you something of me that I've not told anyone, for it is something you need to know should you choose to...accompany me," he begins. "It is well enough known down here that I have certain...abilities, gifts usually associated with the devout. When I close my eyes at night, I feel a presence around me, speaking to me. It asks things of me and grants me power, yet I do not know what forces I serve." He voice crackles with emotion. "I do not even know my own God, let alone myself! Hear this: you will not serve me, for I don't know who I myself serve. You may accompany me, but you will not serve me. I cannot have that on my conscience."

He pauses, to make sure the boy understands what he's saying. "I believe that our decisions are made with our hearts, in a place much deeper than reason or logic can go. We do what we do because we must. Everything else is either justification, or excuse. If you wish to join with me, I welcome you as a brother and will do my best to shelter and protect you. You must believe that you do this simply because it is necessary, not because you wish to ''make a name' for yourself."

"Heaven knows, boy. A name is something I cannot give you."

Lorik begins nodding even while he is listening. "Aye, I know. I've known there was something special about you. And I'd be more than glad to do this thing. Yes, of course it's the right thing. But it's also a good thing for my future, your future. I mean--I said, making a name for myself, but really I mean...doing something. Being somebody, other than just a junior apprentice who gets kicked around and can't get anything quite right without a lot of help. Someday I'd like to have children, and I want them to be proud of me." He looks up, eyes shining.

[Zorroroaster]

He looks away, unaccustomed to the emotions that suddenly surface within him.

"Your faith in me moves me, son. You follow your heart's decisions, and they will lead you to the truth. Let us strive to be of service and help for any in our party who need it."

He holds out his hand and offers it to Lorik.

[Zhym]

n the Hall of Sigils the next day, Fjirn finds himself unaccountably surrounded by a throng of the younger Rune Caster apprentices. Half are smiling uncomfortably, the other half a mixture of self-serious and visibly nervous. "Fjirn, we've got a proposition for you," says the tallest of the bunch, a promising acolyte from a family of smiths by the name of Barmand Thunderhammer. "Everyone here knows that you were selected to go on this trip because you're set to succeed Uliff when he removes the mantle of Chief Seer. We've been discussing amongst ourselves, and we think one of us should accompany you. It wouldn't mean anything, officially of course, but it would certainly resolve some disputes we've had as a group about who you think might be worth grooming to replace you once you've had your tenure as Seer. We will abide by your decision, but we will not take 'no' for an answer." He crosses his arms and shifts his weight back and forth uncomfortably in a fashion not dissimilar to what the others are doing, waiting for a response.

Fjirn raises himself to his full height—which, being a dwarf, admittedly isn't all that impressive. But they say that authority adds a few inches, and among this crowd, Fjirn has it.

"Young Thunderhammer," he says with a dead serious face, "you well know that if my answer is 'no,' then that is the answer you will accept." His stern visage softens, and one eye twitches. A dwarf might go so far as to call a wink, if that dwarf were particularly bold and nearsighted. "But I happen to agree that I could use an assistant on this trip."

He grows serious again. "I caution you, however, not to read too much into my choice of who should accompany me. Perhaps, as you speculate, I will select the one of you who I believe will succeed me." He pauses a moment to let the subtle change from "replace" sink in to the young apprentices. "But perhaps I would leave my most trusted apprentice here, where he would surely be needed, and instead take with me someone over whom I felt the need to keep a watchful eye. Or perhaps I believe that the mission will end poorly, in which case I might take an apprentice whose loss would be least dearly felt? There are many reasons why I might choose someone to join me in this mission; do not presume that it implies favor."

"I will consider your request and make my decision tonight. Now, I'm sure you all have studying that you should be doing?"

Is there a list of apprentices Fjirn can choose from?

[Keehnelf]

Barmand Thunderhammer - excels scholastically, knows that he's better than most
Vecyris Ironmane - eldest daughter of a minor noble family, studious and hard-working but not especially bright or intuitive
Orrod Foecleaver - the only non-soldier of a very large family, has all the fight of one but was forced into a "respectable occupation" by his somewhat more pacifistic mother
Dane Ramshear - very bright, but not fastidious, prone to outbursts of inspiration that he follows somewhat recklessly. Perhaps the most talented overall
Ingrith Holdmettle - highly intuitive, understands the connections between book-learning and the importance of tradition/religion. Probably a better cleric than a rune caster, but committed to high standards.

These are the main choices that stand out.

[ybn1197]

There's silence for a long time, twenty minutes at least, punctuated only by the slow pacing of Striborg's bare feet along the stone floor of his cell. "Well," his voice, breathy and excited, breaks in at last. "Would you consider taking off with me? I know a path through the swamp to a settlement of gnomes that have a few dwarves. We could trek that way, leave all this druid nonsense behind, and retire a pair of rich dwarves. What do you say?"

Grim crouches down, his back to the wall of his cell. He shakes his head side to side as if Striborg could see him. "Let me think on that. I doubt they are just going to set me free without some kind of compulsion on me to do the 'right' thing. Let me find out what I can, and if they are ignorant enough to just let me walk out of here free, then I will take you along with me."

[Keehnelf]

"Aye, that's the ticket! I knew he had some fight in him yet!" Stirborg laughs a long while, quietly, perhaps feeling relieved to get out of the damnable dungeons at long last.

---

In the morning, Uliff, the King's chief rune seer, comes to the dungeon to discuss Grim's situation. "My son, I have spoken with our lord the King about your participation in this expedition. He has expressed to me privately that this urge of yours represents a true desire to repent of your earlier crimes and make a life of positive contribution to our clan going forward.

"He takes these matters very seriously of late. He has offered you not only a full pardon but a full share in the rewards that will be given to others who are not also under the compulsion of the King's Law. This, of course, depends upon you completing your mission with the dignity befitting a Firedeep Dwarf, as judged by the assigned leader of the expedition, Fjirn Fjirnsson.

"There are several days left before the departure. Is there anything I can do for you to aid you in your preparations?"

[ybn1197]

Grim humbly gets up off his sleeping mat and approaches the elder dwarf, stopping in front of him and grasping the bars of his cell. "Aye. Not all had the presence of heart and spirit to step forward in the hall last night. My 'neighbor' has found a change of heart and wishes to accompany us on this expedition."

[KingOfCowards]

Gideon will take the opportunity to approach his sister, Myrna, about her request. Better to with meet her on his terms rather than her own.
In as gruff a voice as he can muster, Gideon begins his line of questioning, "Father tells me that you want to accompany the heroes who are being sent to slay the Black Druid. This is no game, you understand? These are well-trained warriors going on this mission, better than myself, and much better than you. If I'm to allow you to come with us, you're going to have to listen to me, as I'm likely to be responsible ye. I won't accept any insolence from you either. It's very likely this group could fail, and we'll all be in our graves that much earlier than the rest. But your survival and the group's may depend on doing what I say. If you cannot agree to these terms, you're more than welcome to stay here with Father."

[Keehnelf]

Listening to his king issue the edict against the Black Druid, Dell waits and sees who will step forward, as is his habit; something his uncle taught him about being cautious when in unfamiliar territory.
When it appeared no one else would volunteer, he drew his sword and stepped forward with a bow.
"I am Dell Redsword and I offer myself and my sword in pledge to this venture, my king."

Apologies for the late arrival fellers; DM, if this post is out of place, please remove it and put it where it belongs.

After the King has made his final statements and retreated for the evening, a pair of young King's Guard that Dell has worked with in the past approach him, smiling. They are both young, hardly older than Dell himself, and one nudges him in the shoulder as they step alongside him. "Shades of my ancestors," says, the taller of the two, a carefree-seeming fellow by the name of Darlith, "that was a big-balls move and no doubt. I always figured you'd meet your end chasing a six-figure paycheck, not as a martyr to that thrice-blasted druid." He chuckles, but it is clear that there's concern behind his jest. The other, a flame-haired young dwarf with a long, silky beard by the name of Voranz, just nods along, smile not quite so broad, hands clasped behind his back.

[hedgeknight]

After the King has made his final statements and retreated for the evening, a pair of young King's Guard that Dell has worked with in the past approach him, smiling. They are both young, hardly older than Dell himself, and one nudges him in the shoulder as they step alongside him. "Shades of my ancestors," says, the taller of the two, a carefree-seeming fellow by the name of Darlith, "that was a big-balls move and no doubt. I always figured you'd meet your end chasing a six-figure paycheck, not as a martyr to that thrice-blasted druid." He chuckles, but it is clear that there's concern behind his jest. The other, a flame-haired young dwarf with a long, silky beard by the name of Voranz, just nods along, smile not quite so broad, hands clasped behind his back.

"I'm not worried about the Black Druid, my friend. After chasing gold for years, I just want to...ya know...be a part of something. If the gods will it, I'll return and tell ya all about it. Unless...ya wanna go with me? The three of us! Mayhap the King will let you go...to defend the kingdom and all. Eh?"
He slaps Voranz on the shoulder and nods vigorously.

[Keehnelf]

Voranz takes the slap but just chuckles uneasily, while Darlith erupts into another round of laughter. "Oh my, that's good. In all honesty, I do hope you come back in one piece, but...you know, King's Guard is a pretty easy situation these days, apart from the odd miscreant like the fellow that poisoned Jalbert--"

"Striborg." cuts in Voranz, eyes steely.

"Yeah, that's the one. Striborg. Evil as the day is long--seems like Jalbert was only the beginning. What he was really after was a chance to get to the King. Just glad he was caught before he could carry it out." Darlith just shakes his head. Voranz, having taken a step back at the unexpected contact, does not indicate agreement or disagreement. His eyes are steely and dark.

"Anyhow," continues the jovial guard, realizing dark talk is not what his friend needs on the eve of a departure on a potential suicide mission. "None of that sort of thing where you're going, just a job and a goal and then a big payday. We'll have a big bout of drinking on Sun's Dawning out of your earnings!" He chortles again and them fades back into the crowd as quickly as he came. Voranz is left standing there before Dell, a scrunched look on his face.

"Good luck," he says, before turning to go.

[Sol]

Following his bout with Crabath, and after having made plans for meeting him later, Unther returns to his home where he begins packing for the journey and otherwise makes preparations for his departure. After returning from the great war to the west, Unther had fancied keeping this home for the rest of his days, perhaps never to see dark times again. He knew now that, for a man of the sword such as himself, that it had been only a dream.

Unther turns the key over to his nephew. "I will be gone tomorrow," says the elder Dwarf, "And I know not when I shall return, or if I shall. But I intend to! So keep this place well until my return, use it as you will, but keep it neat - do not allow a victorious hero to return to any less."

Unther had never married, and today, that seemed a fortunate thing since he knew not if he would ever return. Unther packs his gear and finds it to be heavy but necessary. He packs food and drink, knowing that when it is gone, they will be drinking from puddles and eating whatever is raw that they can find in the field. He takes a flagon of wine, but then thinks twice, and leaves it behind. That bottle is a bottle of illusions. And he can afford none of those anymore.

Last, of course, he considers the bracers. He takes a few hours to work on them at his own work table, a joy that he knows he will not have on the mission. When he has indulged in this all he can, he packs his jeweler's tools and some picks and locks into a small wooden box which, expertly, he fits into his backpack, finding room even though it is overfull.

[Zhym]

Fjirn sits in his quarters considering the candidates he might bring with him on the King's mission.

Barmand Thunderhammer is smart, but a little arrogant. Taking him on a quest of this importance would not improve his humility. But perhaps humility can be taught. Vecyris has a bright future, because industry is often more critical than skill to success. But where Fjirn is going, skill will be paramount. She would be more useful back here. Orrod is strong and worthy, but the expedition party will have enough fighting men as it is. Dane—what about Dane? There is so much potential in that one, but also so much recklessness. Could he learn control? Is this quest the place to teach it to him? And then there's Ingrith. A rune caster apprentice with clerical training would be quite helpful. We could use as much favor from the gods as we can get, thinks Fjirn. But is he dedicated to the Order?

It's either Barmand, Dane, or Ingrith, Fjirn knows. But which?

He visits Barmand first. "Young Thunderhammer, you are the most academically accomplished of my students, though I need not tell you that. And as your boldness earlier today shows, you have the potential to lead the Order some day." Seeing a look of smug satisfaction start to come over Barmand's face, Fjirn holds up a hand. "But I will not be bringing you on this journey. Ullif needs you here. You will take my place as his chief assistant while I am away. I urge you to see this as another learning opportunity in your promising career. Ullif has much to teach."

He visits the others in turn, giving each gentle words of encouragement that nonetheless carry the message, "You have not been selected."

Finally, he visits Ingrith. "Your understanding of the traditions and religion of our people serves you well," he begins. "In the quest we have been given, we will need both in abundance. Please join me on our journey."

[Keehnelf]

Barmand responds as expected--a bit indignant at first, but softening to the praise he hears in Fjirn's words . Perhaps a bit of relief on not being selected for a potentially dangerous mission.

The rest show a mixture of relief and upset that they are not the ones, always inquiring who would be chosen, though Fjirn does not say until he's had a chance to speak to Ingrith directly.

Ingrith, for her part, remains stoic when given the news, nodding throughout, though her cheeks show a bit of red under her ruddy complexion. She says, simply, "Duty is everything to our people, and knowing one's duty comes from our traditions. I will do my best to fulfill what our people, and you, expect of me." She then takes her leave to make the necessary preparations.