Fort Blackstone - The Adventure Begins!

[Tamerlaine]

For the last few days since leaving the flatlands behind you’ve been making your way upwards along the winding road that leads west through the mountains. Each of you have your reasons for leaving the more more civilized lands, some known to everyone in the group and perhaps some kept secret. You all know each other, well or not, and have kept together with the goal of fame and fortune as the catalyst that binds your brotherhood. The mountains, wild, mysterious and dangerous, beckons to those brave or foolish to explore its summits and valleys.

You’ve reached the point where the air is cool and crisp. Soon there is a light dusting of snow on the ground and you pull your cloaks tighter about yourselves for warmth. The evening sun is beginning its inexorable descent and the shadows began to lengthen. You moan at the idea of spending another night beside the road huddled around a fire eating hard bread when suddenly one of you cries out, a finger thrust out, pointing off into the distance. There! A tiny pennant floating lazily in the breeze atop what must be the battlements of a tower.

Your stride becomes brisker. There the smell of woodsmoke coming with the breeze. Slowly a trio of dark stone towers an a matching wall comes into view. As you come closer, a sharp eye can see a few men-at-arms standing at the large two-doored gate and at the battlements above. One of the two doors has been swung shut and the soldiers manning the entrance appear to be disinterested (save for a couple of cautious crossbowmen above) as you finally approach.

There are two men with polearms wearing black studded leather and helmets. A third steps out from the doorway, a rather large rotund man in scalemail, helmet and sword. He wears a black cloak and a wide matching sash under his belt. At his side is a reed-thin man in black robes with a sullen, bookish face and a dusting of hairs on a weak chin. He's unarmed; a sheaf of papers, inkwell and quill are his tools. The large man holds up a gauntleted hand, his face ruddy with a rather impressive walrus mustache.

“Hold there!” His voice is booming and deep, his thick jowls jiggling with each word. He casts his eyes to the darkening light before taking in each of you. His tired eyes seems to have taken your measure and divined your intentions. “You’ve made it just in time. Another minute and you’d be stuck outside the walls tonight. The gates close right before last light and open for nothing. There are things out there...” His eyes flicker beyond you and to the heights around, as if remembering something, something not pleasant.

“Well then, I’m Sergeant Engrald and welcome to Fort Blackstone.” His smile is polite but his eyes show disinterest. “Scribe Donis here will take your names and purpose of your visit. A tax of a silver coin for each head will gain you entrance. Since you don’t have a wagon, there’s no need of playing the extra tax.”

[spanningtree]

Grenda - Elf

Approaching the gate, Grenda pulls her hood a bit lower: Well met Sergeant Engrald... Scribe Donis. I am Grenda, I'll let my friends introduce themselves. Handing a silver piece over: Our business here is not business, but to find a bed and meal... maybe follow up with exploring the local lands. May I ask who is the lord of the fort?

OCC: 1sp deducted.

[rossik]

"My name is Igneos Firefingers, sir", say the mage with a flamboyant gesture. After handing the silver, he gives a extra one to the captain "my good sir, can you tell us more about those outside dangers ?"

[alver]

Cedric

"A silver? Sheesh," a tiny halfling in a leather jacket rolls his eyes. Seeing the others cough up the money, he follows suit. "Cedric Noakes. Uh you got a tavern or something in there?"

[tarlyn]

Norzak

An armored dwarf approaches the gate, arriving at the same time as the others.

"A silver ter git in? Dunt knows bout a Inn, but dere a place ta drink inside? Me legs aint as long a 'umans

t'why I gitted here so late!,"


Even as he hands over a silver, he looks at the other people trying to gain access at the same time he is.

Frowning, the dwarf realizes he should have perhaps given his name as the others have.

"Me name be Norzak, Norzak Rockbuster at yer service."

[Pulpatoon]

"Aldredus," says the thin man in the brocaded jacket, patting himself down, looking for a coin in his pockets. Realizing he doesn't have any loose change, he turns away from the gatekeeper and hunches over. With the sort of obvious furtiveness that will probably draw the attention of every pickpocket in a three-block radius, he draws a purse attached to a cord from under his tunic and counts out a couple silver coins. "Everyone good?," he asks his traveling companions. "Anyone need help paying the toll?"

Deducting 1 sp.

[Tamerlaine]

Grenda - Elf

Approaching the gate, Grenda pulls her hood a bit lower: Well met Sergeant Engrald... Scribe Donis. I am Grenda, I'll let my friends introduce themselves. Handing a silver piece over: Our business here is not business, but to find a bed and meal... maybe follow up with exploring the local lands. May I ask who is the lord of the fort?

Dons the Scribe takes the elf's coin, dips the nib of the quill in a small inkwell and starts writing. Engrald nods at seeing the silver pass hands before answering. "You've come late. Ye can find a meal but rooms may be all taken up fer the night. As fer the lord of the fort, that'd be Ser Storstig, cousin of the Duke. A hard but firm commander. All of you best observe the laws. 'Tis a wild place up here and Ser Storstig enforces the peace with a heavy hand."

"My name is Igneos Firefingers, sir", say the mage with a flamboyant gesture. After handing the silver, he gives a extra one to the captain "my good sir, can you tell us more about those outside dangers ?"

Engrald blinks at the mage's flourishing gesture and slowly takes the mage's coin with suspicion. "Thank you, good sir. Very generous of you. Well, there are the mountain cats. Bears and wolves of course. The rare ogre and troll. I've heard tell of an owlbear. Now there's been talk of...well, cannibals if you can believe that sort of thing. Fah! Just tall tales."

Cedric

"A silver? Sheesh," a tiny halfling in a leather jacket rolls his eyes. Seeing the others cough up the money, he follows suit. "Cedric Noakes. Uh you got a tavern or something in there?"

"Wot? Where's that from?" The Sergeant glances about and then down. "A wee'un, eh? Don't see many of you small folk up here. Aye, there's a few taprooms, a tavern and an inn. The inn's yer best bet fer a good meal and rooms with comfy beds and clean sheets. 'Tis called the Vulgar Harpy, ye can't miss the sign."

Norzak"Me name be Norzak, Norzak Rockbuster at yer service."

"Well met, Norzak and welcome to Fort Blackstone. Always pleased to see yer kind about."

Watching the poor attempt by Aldredus at being surreptitious with his money, the sergeant banged the hardwood rod of his position against the edge of the door. "Come along, man! Quickly now!"

Once the coin was handed over, Engrald looks over the group. "Everyone pay up? Donis, did everyone pay the tax? The gate needs to be closed. I've got me missus to attend to, that and a pipe by the fire." The sergeant is scolding now, clearly impatient to get the gate closed and be off.

[spanningtree]

Grenda - Elf

Grenda nods to the scribe and seargeant as she makes her way through the gate and into the fort. Best to secure a room in the tavern before the sun bids farewell... Vulgar Harpy did he say?

[alver]

Cedric

Not one to argue with officers of the law, the halfling hurries through the gates. He wanders on alongside the elf, trying to spot the sign of the inn.

[Rusty Tincanne]

A man of average height and build, wearing chainmail with a muddy, brown cloak over it, walks up to the scribe, a silver piece in his hand. I'm Parson Paul Paulson, here to do the work of the gods. Is it the custom of this town to tax a man of the cloth?

If the scrib and Sargent insist, he will pay with a small amount of grumbling, anxious to be out of the cannibal-infested wilderness. Either way, he helps to find the local inn.If like a bed of straw tonight, at the least.

[Pulpatoon]

Aldredus: "The Vulgar Harpy? It sounds... vibrant, doesn't it? Colorful. Like the bruises and contusions one is likely to pick up there. Still, needs as must."

Aldredus intends to arrange lodging for the night, and then go looking for information on the area—in particular, maps or guides to sites of adventure and treasure.

[tarlyn]

Norzak

The dwarf shrugs and follows everyone, not having really paid too much attention to the conversation. He is hoping they do find a

place so he can drink his fill and arm wrestle.

[Tamerlaine]

Once past the gate, the intrepid group make their way into the interior of the fort. As the fort straddles the mountain pass at a narrow point, the straight lane is wide and cobbled with stone. Everything else appears crammed together as houses, shoppes, and street vendors choke the narrow streets and alleys some no wider than a man’s shoulders. The wide lane appears to be where the caravans pass through or stop to load or unload goods.

Lanterns are being lit along the wide avenue as you approach a large sign hanging above a red door. The sign bears the faded caricature of that monstrous beast the inn is named for; a lewd and carnal figure painted in such a manner as to put a blush to most good folk. Stepping under the broad wood beam of the lintel, you are greeted by a cornucopia of sights and smells. Lit lamps and candles are everywhere, giving the interior a warm glow. The smell of sawdust, mulled wine and pipe smoke assail the nostrils while the din of conversation, shouting, laughing and singing tickle the ears. Trestles line the walls while tables take up the space between. A roasting pig over a crackling fire dominates the large stone hearth. Off to one corner is a handsome young man with golden curls, singing a bawdy song while playing a lute.

As you seat yourselves a looming shadow falls across your table. A very, very tall man wearing a stained apron stands there, the face seemingly locked into a perpetual scowl. It is clear that this man was once muscular in his prime, but the vagaries of time and age has reduced him to a pair of narrow shoulders and growing gut. He’s bald save for some dark hair around the ears and a pair of thick eyebrows. Then there’s the mirthless eyes, a large broken nose and a rather thick bushy moustache.

“Welcome to the Vulgar Harpy, gents. I’m Laston and this is my place. I’ve got ale, wine, and beer. I’ve even got a true Dwarven stout. If you’re hungry, dinner is roast pig, taters, bread and cheese.

[Pulpatoon]

Aldredus: "I could definitely put myself outside a large meal. Beer and dinner, sir. The gate-keeper pointed us to you, so I assume you see most of the travelers passing through here. Do you see many adventurers and treasure seekers?"

[tarlyn]

Norzak

"Dwarven Stout, eh? Bringa me one 'o dem an yer plate of grub. Er,,,, kin me an me companions fin' us a place ter lay our heads fer tha night?""

Stomach rumbling, the dwarf realizes he is quite hungry and it's always a good time to drink a pint, especially a dwarvish stout!

[Rusty Tincanne]

Parson Paul walks in and smiles at the merriment. This is his type of church. When Norzak has finished ordering, he chimes in. Thanks Laston. I'll do the same. A plate of the pig with the trimmings, but with a cup of wine to wash it down. He tries to find a table big enough for the entire party.

[alver]

Cedric is visibly startled by the sullen giant appearing at their table. "W-wine, sir!", he squeaks. Hearing Aldredus mention adventurers, he starts twisting on his seat, trying to see if any other patrons look like adventurers or treasure seekers.

[spanningtree]

Grenda

The meal sounds divine, I will have have the same...

[rossik]

Pig and beer seems fine!
Say, my good man, what does this place feels for adventurers?

[Tamerlaine]

Aldredus: "Do you see many adventurers and treasure seekers?"

There's a sudden resignation to Laston's eyes. He divines the nature of the group seated at the large trestle. They aren't the first and they wouldn't be the last his eyes suggest.

"Aye, I do. Many have come through during my lifetime seeking the mines of Khunmar. When I was but a young idiot I took up my Da's axe and made a group much like yourselves take me on, sick as I was tending to the inn. What sheer 'effing folly it were. Eight of us there was, only two of us got out alive. Just 'effing barely."

Laston then sighed. "A band left 'ere over a fortnight ago. Red Roynar and his new recruits. Green as spring grass. Haven't heard nor seen sight of any of them since."

Norzak - The stout is as good as any you've ever tasted and made my the hand of tallfolks! How can this be? And the Mines of Khunmar! You know of this place. A smaller mountain holdfast, it is called Dhondaruhm in the dwarven tongue and you are distantly related to the clan that lived there. You know the holdfast to be a place of great sadness, besieged and taken over a century ago when the Lich Queen's army of undead and foul creatures came south. But the hardy dwarves of Dhondaruhm under King Arndur Shimmerhand held the mountain passes, slowly giving up ground and finally retreating to their holdfast. Trying to buy time for his people to escape, the great King Shimmerhand and his carls held what is now called the Bridge of Sorrows in an epic battle that lasted a whole day. But it was for naught and in an act of ignominy, the Ogre king lifted Shimmerhand's broken body and tossed it over the side of the bridge in front of his carls before all were slaughtered.