The party spent an uneasy night in the
mouth of Wave Echo Cave, eager for some fresh air after what seemed like an
eternity underground.
Xylon and Radegast took the late-night
watches in case the Black Spider and his minions returned, and then settled
down to meditate.
The party awoke to the alluring aroma of a
Full Dwarven Breakfast being cooked by the Rockseeker brothers. Gundren and
Nundro had knocked together a wooden table and had set it with plates and
platters piled high with cured meats straight from the griddle, eggs, hash
browns and biscuits. Each place setting had a frothy mug of ale in front of it,
and a reserve keg was within reach.
The dwarves had piled the scraps nearby and
invited Who to take care of business. The owlbear was uncharacteristically
subdued as it hoovered up the bacon grease and potato skins.
Varien thanked the Rockseekers for their
hospitality.
“Aye, well, it’s the least we could do,
given all that you did to rid Wave Echo Cave of the Black Spider and his
minions,” Gundren said. “Now, let’s eat – the last of the beer-battered bacon
is frying up now!”
Bob and Alec politely refused the beer and
beer-bacon. Radegast eagerly scooped up the meat from the brothers’ plates and
added it to the growing pile on her own trencher.
“Right, it’s omelets for you then!” Nundro
said, flipping folded eggs onto their plates.
The cavern echoed with the sounds of
cutlery scraping on dishes for a time.
Gundren let out a satisfied belch and wiped
egg from his beard. Unbuckling his belt a notch or two, he reclined on his camp
chair. “Now then, lads and lassie, I’ve one or two things to talk to you about
before you strike out for Phandalin,” he said. “I can’t have ye waggin’ yer
tongues around town that the Rockseeker Brothers have discovered the location
of Wave Echo Cave – at least not yet. Our operation needs time and talent
before we go hanging out our shingle.”
“Of course the Miner’s Exchange will soon
learn of our activities here, after all my brother’s already registered a claim
with them, but it won’t do to spread rumours about what we’ve discovered, even
if the rumours are true!” Nundro added.
“If you need to tell anyone about where we
are, just call it the ‘Rockseeker Dig’ and they’ll know what you mean,” Gundren
nodded and eyed the party. “So can we count on yer discretion?”
The adventurers nodded. Radegast mimed
sewing her lips shut.
“Aye, wonderful!” Gundren said. “Now, to a
bit of related business!” He revealed a pair of oilcloth packets tied up with
dwarven runes lettered across the seals. “In the interest of gathering those we
can trust to restart the dig here in the mines, I’ll have need to engage your
services as couriers to post these parcels for me.”
Radegast nonchalantly deciphered the
Dwarven runes on the first packet she could see.
“This one needs to go to Neverwinter, to my
cousin Gort Rockfist.” Gundren said, “and this one needs to go to the Phandalin
Miner’s Exchange.” He looked thoughtful. “I suppose ye could post this first
parcel to Neverwinter from the Exchange, but I’ll pay ye a bonus if ye deliver
it in person.”
“I will be happy to deliver these for you,”
Radegast said. “I’ve actually never been to Neverwinter!”
“Make sure you get a receipt!” Gundren
said.
“Wait, what about those jewels in the
statue’s eyes?” Theryn asked.
“Statue’s booby trapped,” Xylon said in
between bites of biscuit.
“Rightly so,” Gundren said. “Oldest trick
in the dwarven book, lads and lass. Drop a glamour on a couple of pieces of
glass and let some greedy orcs bring the roof down on their stupid heads!” He
laughed and clinked glasses with his brother.
“Speaking of orcs,” Radegast said. “You’ll
be needing some manpower to get this mine up and running. What about partnering
up with some local Orcs who are looking for gainful employment.”
Gundren sobered up. “That a joke lassie?”
“Um, no?” Radegast said.
“You were deep in the mine, yeah?” Gundren
said. “Did you catch a glimpse of those corpses that lay pretty much
everywhere?”
“Well, yes.” Radegast said.
“Then you’ll be understanding why I’m not
itching to hire any green-skinned piggies to work me mines!” Gundren said. “Now,
off with ye!”
“Yes,” Bob said. “Let’s go see if Phandalin
is still standing.”
Battered and bloodied from their
experiences in Wave Echo Cave, the party untied their mounts and loaded up.
Radegast looked at her new traveling
companions and noted their disheveled appearance, covered as they were in
layers of mine dust, ash, and cobwebs. She looked down at herself, blanched,
and used prestidigitation to clean
herself off.
The caravan of horses, mules, and Owlbear
set out for Phandalin to the west.
The Sword Mountains soon gave way to
foothills, which gave way to the rolling farmland on the outskirts of
Phandalin. Bob breathed a prayer of relief that their trip had gone without
incident.
Before they got to the edge of town, Erwen
turned to the rest of the party. “I’ll take Who the long way around so people
don’t get upset again.” He frowned. “I think Who picked up a nasty bug from
those spiders in the cave – something doesn’t smell right. I’d better take care
of him for the time being.”
“I think you’ll be taking care of someone
else when you get to the Alderleaf farm,” Xylon snickered.
Erwen blushed and led Who off towards the
farm.
The party found the cart track that led to
Phandalin’s main street.
Radegast took in the sight of Phandalin and
was not generally impressed with what she saw, having been born in Evereska and
schooled in Silverymoon. Phandalin was a far cry from the mythal-swaddled
vistas of her youth.
She could tell straight away that the town
had been sacked by villains before, and sacked hard right in the sack at that –
the general state of decay of what at one time had been a stone perimeter wall
filled her with growing dismay as she considered the threats that loomed over
the village.
“Sure, feeling bad for us humans?” Alec
asked the half-elf.
“Hardly, since humans can make amazing
walls when they put their minds to it,” Radegast said. She stepped over a
scattering of bricks. “But this wall here? I can walk right over it!”
As they entered town, Bob saw among the
townfolk the familiar face of Mirna Dendrar, dressed in widow’s clothing, a
look of forlorn hope on her tear-streaked face. She watched as the party drew
nearer.
Bob sighed and slid from his saddle. He
approached the widow.
“Well?” Mirna’s voice was a strained
whisper.
Bob tried to look consoling. “I have good
news and bad news, Mrs. Dendrar. We have put a stop to the Black Spider’s
activities, but I'm sorry to report that he did manage to escape our clutches.
We will do our very best to stop him once and for all.”
Mirna nodded slowly, blinking away tears.
“I wish you the best,” she whispered.
Bob nodded. “And don’t you worry, we will
visit Thundertree and be back with your family heirloom soon.”
The party continued on.
“I have business to attend to in town,”
Theryn said to his companions. “I will meet you back at the Stonehill Inn.”
“Yeah, Xylon has some business to attend to
as well I think,” Bob said with a grin.
Xylon shuddered and tramped off to the inn
to look for Elsa. Alec shrugged and tagged along.
“I’ll check in on Sildar at the
Townmaster’s Hall,” Varien said. “He’ll want to hear the latest news about the
Rockseekers.”
“I think I’d like to meet this Townmaster,”
Radegast said.
“I’ll accompany you,” Bob said, not
trusting Radegast in the slightest.
Theryn made his way to the Lionshield
Coster and flagged down the proprietress Linene Graywind.
“Yes, what can I do for you?” Graywind said
sharply.
“What do you make of this?” Theryn asked,
pulled the jade frog statue from his carrybag.
Linene arched a finely-plucked eyebrow.
“I’d say you’ve got yourself a fine paperweight there,” she said. “Trinkets
like that are pleasing to the eye, but this is a place stocked with
practicalities – I can’t move pieces of pretty in a place like Phandalin, if
you understand my meaning.”
Theryn frowned, sizing the woman up.
“Fine,” he sighed. “Thank you for your time.”
Graywind had already moved on to another
customer.
Theryn glared at her retreating backside
and left the shop and headed to the Townmaster’s Hall.
Varien, Radegast and Bob entered the
Townmaster’s Hall.
Sildar was reclining in the Townmaster’s
chair while Harbin Wester was fuming at a side table behind a stack of
paperwork.
“Ah, you’ve returned!” he said as Theryn
joined the party. “Welcome back to Phandalin, my friends. What news from the
Sword Mountains?”
Wary of spilling too many beans, Varien
said “We reunited Gundren with his brother Nundro.”
“Excellent,” Sildar said. “I hope all is
well with the Rockseeker brothers.”
“Well, challenges arose and were overcome,”
Theryn said. “For the most part, most hands are accounted for.”
“And what of this Black Spider?” Sildar
asked.
“What do you know about the Black Spider?”
Theryn said defensively.
“Only what you’ve already told me,” Sildar
said.
“I see,” Theryn replied.
“So, what is going on with your town’s
defensive walls?” Radegast asked.
Sildar’s eyes widened and he smiled. “I
don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.”
“I’m Radegast De’ath,” Radegast said. “And
I think we need to have a conversation about your town’s defenses.”
“All in good time, my dear,” Sildar said.
He took note of the lute slung across the bard’s shoulders. “You are a minstrel
then, are you?”
“Well, I’ve been known to strum,” Radegast
said. “In fact, I’m kind of a big deal.”
“Splendid!” Sildar said. “Do stop by the Stonehill Inn, as they are always
looking for talent to raise the spirits of our townspeople.”
“Do they cover meals?” Radegast asked.
Sildar chuckled. “You’ll have to ask Toblen Stonehill about that.”
Radegast forced a smile. “Well, be that as
it may, I think you should consider making some improvements to your town’s
defenses.”
“Yes, your companions have made mention of
that necessity before,” Sildar said. He turned to the Townmaster. “Wester, you
were drawing up some contingency plans, I believe?”
Wester grimaced.
“Plans are a good start,” Radegast said,
“but what about action? You could have men out there digging a ditch and piling
up the embankments, and then cut timbers to create a palisade.”
“Now, now, let’s not put the cart before
the horse,” Sildar said with a smile. “Phandalin isn’t exactly awash in siege
engineers and men-at-arms, as you will plainly see as you walk around town.”
“It doesn’t take special skills to dig a
ditch and raise a rampart,” Radegast protested.
“Madam,” Sildar said sternly. “The people
of Phandalin are engaged in a daily struggle to put food on their tables, keep
their children warm, and their granaries full. We don’t have a surplus of
able-bodied men to set aside their ploughshares and pickaxes and just start in on
building walls, not without clear evidence that the town is under threat.”
Radegast let out a sharp sigh.
“We will need hard evidence of a clear and
present danger posed to us by the orcs before we talk fortifications,” Sildar
said. “That’s why you should check out these disturbances at Wyvern Tor and
collect the 100 gold reward that’s outstanding.”
“Shouldn’t that be 400 gold?” Theryn asked.
“Now now, if I keep handing you sacks of
coin you will bankrupt this town,” Sildar chided.
Harbin Wester looked pained at the mention
of money.
“What if you were to organize a town
meeting while we conduct a reconnaissance operation in the mountains, and
return with more information?” Bob asked.
“A splendid idea,” Sildar said, ushering
the party out. He turned to the paladin. “Varien, could I speak with you a
moment?”
“At least get a survey done!” Radegast said
on her way out the door. “Get the ball rolling, for heaven’s sake!” Then she
remembered Gundren’s mail, and headed towards the Miner’s Exchange.
As the door closed behind Radegast, Sildar
turned and stared pointedly at Townmaster Wester until he took the hint and
stomped off to the basement, muttering.
“So, what do you need to talk to me about
so privately then?” Varien asked.
Sildar sighed and sat down in the
Townmaster’s chair. "These are trying times, Varien. Trying times
indeed," Sildar said. "If civilization is to survive, it must unite
against the dark forces that threaten it, wouldn't you agree?"
"I absolutely do,” Varien said. “What
are you trying to grab at?"
Sildar leaned forward. "You have
proven yourself to be a man of action in the face of evil, and I'd wager that
your friends think somewhat highly of you."
Varien stood silently, waiting for Sildar
to get to his point.
“The Lord's Alliance could use a man like
you on their side, who thinks the best defence is a strong offence,” Sildar
said. "Especially here in the North, where even the tamed lands remain
wild."
Varien set his jaw. "I have nothing to
offer this alliance of Lords,” he said brusquely. “If they truly believe we
need to attack against the terrors in the night then they can offer us their
men."
Sildar looked taken aback. "Bold
words," he said. "The Lord's Alliance has held back the terrors of
the night for a century, but they can only do that with the help of bold men
like you. You have more to offer than you might think at first."
"I'm familiar with how wars are
fought,” Varien said. “Lords pay bold men a wage to fight for them, and win
their battles. Forgive my skepticism Sildar, but I don't seek to fight the
Lords' battles; I'm here to fight the
battle, and the battle never ends." He nodded in what he thought was the
direction of Neverwinter. "I'll
take what help can be found, but if I get caught up in their bureaucracy I'll
just be chained to their desires." He puffed out his chest. "All I
desire is divine justice."
Sildar got to his feet and paced before
Varien. "It sounds like your skepticism is well-earned, my young friend.
Tell me though, what makes your battle separate from those fights that threaten
all along the Sword Coast?"
Varien smirked. "I'm free. I have the
liberty to fight the darkness on every front I can, when and where I choose."
He shook his head. “I have nothing against the bold men that fight the Lords'
fight, but it is not my yoke to carry."
Sildar stood before Varien and nodded
slowly. "I see where you are coming from, for I once stood where you are
standing now.” His eyes hardened. “You may, however, find as your journeys
continue, that there is strength to be found in solidarity, not
solitar...ity." Sildar smiled, as if the matter was forgotten. "I
have kept you from your companions long enough. Go forth and fight the good
fight."
"Thanks for the offer though,” Varien
smiled back as he moved to the door. As he pulled the door open, he turned.
"Back to my discussion of choice though Sildar, my companions are right in
that you have a choice too. You are free to choose liberty or death. Protect
the people of Phandalin."
Varien left before Sildar could respond.
The Stonehill Inn was in the throes of the
lunch rush. Xylon and Alec sat at the bar, as the wizard glanced furtively
around the barroom looking in vain for Elsa.
Toblen Stonehill dropped off a platter of
pizza and two mugs of ale. Alec pushed the mug over to Xylon’s place at the
bar.
He couldn’t help but overhear a heated
discussion that was taking place between two disheveled miners sitting at a
table behind them.
“I’m telling you Lanar, I saw that nugget
first,” one man was saying angrily.
The miner called Lanar sneered. “Seeing
ain’t taking, you know. I had my mitts on that lump first.”
“C’mon Lanar, c’mon!” his companion
protested. “You ain’t being fair!”
“Excuse me,” Xylon said to the proprietor.
“Is Elsa working today?”
Toblen shook his head. “No, she left a note
saying that she was attending a friend’s wedding in Halfway, a hamlet to the
south. She should be back soon.” He wiped sweat from his shiny bald pate. “I
hope she’s back soon, anyway – my wife doesn’t like having to pull double duty
while Elsa’s away!”
Xylon nodded and blinked back tears of
frustration.
Alec picked up a slice of pizza and sniffed
it. “What’s this?” he asked.
“Ah, a recent innovation of mine,” Toblen
said. “You start with a bit of flatbread, brush some olive oil and tomato paste
onto it, sprinkle fresh cheese overtop and load it up with vegetables and meat
as you like it.” He winked. “I call it pizza because,”
“Because you eat it one pizza at a time,
yes, yes, great sales pitch,” Xylon said, taking a long pull at his mug.
Undaunted, Toblen continued. “Yes, well,
it’s been our best seller three days running now.”
Alec shrugged and opened his mouth to take
a bite.
There was a scraping of chair legs on the
wooden floor from behind the fighter.
“I said c’mon, Lanar!” the miner shouted,
shoving Lanar.
Lanar stumbled back and bumped into the
seated Alec.
Alec fumbled the pizza slice, which tumbled
to the floor and landed cheesy side down.
“It’s still good, it’s still good,” Alec said.
Then someone stepped on it.
Alec’s vision went red.
He balled up a fist and punched Lanar.
“Ow!” Lanar shouted as he doubled over.
“What the hell was that for?”
Xylon stayed in his seat and took another
long drink.
Lanar’s companion swung a fist at Alec. The
trained fighter easily ducked the wild swing, and then grabbed Lanar in a
headlock.
“Hey!” Lanar shouted. “What the hell are
you doing? Who are you?”
Lanar’s companion hammered his fists down
on Alec’s armored back to no avail as the fighter swung Lanar around and let
him fly head over heels across the barroom.
“Hey now!” Toblen shouted. “Take this
outside at once before you break something!”
Lanar tumbled and came to rest suddenly
against a chair upon which was seated a mountain of a man, who was in the
process of draining a glass of beer. The bump sent sudsy foam spilling down the
front of his tunic.
The man stood up. And up. And up.
Alec grinned. “Now we’re talking.”
Radegast waited patiently in the queue
inside the Phandalin Miner’s Exchange, humming an Elven song of stoicism until
she was at the counter, across from which stood a cunning-looking human female.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes you can,” Radegast said. “I’m here on
behalf of Gundren Rockseeker. Do you know him?”
“Dwarven prospector, recently registered a
claim in the Sword Mountains, yes I know him,” the postmaster said. “How is old
Gundren?”
“Oh he’s, well, fine, actually,” Radegast
said. “Separated from his brothers but reunited recently.”
“Excellent,” the postmaster said. “What can
I do for Mr. Rockseeker?”
Radegast produced one of Gundren’s packets.
“He asked me to deliver this missive to the Phandalin Miner’s Exchange, so here
I am, delivering it, to you.”
The postmaster offered a strained smile.
“Thank you for delivering this package to me,” she said.
“Could I ask for a receipt?” Radegast said.
“Certainly.” The postmaster picked up a
quill pen and scrap of parchment, signed it with a flourish, and handed it
over.
“Have a nice day!” Radegast chirped.
“And you as well,” the postmaster said.
Radegast opened a door to leave.
“Ma’am, that’s the supply closet,” the
postmaster said sharply.
“Of course!” Radegast slammed the closet
shut and walked in the other direction towards the exit.
Bob had left the Townmaster’s Hall and
headed directly to the seamstress shop.
“Yes?” The seamstress said as he entered.
She eyed Bob’s garment warily. “Those stitches should still be holding fast,
unless you’ve gone and done some roughhousing since you were last here.”
“Everything’s fine with my robes, thank
you,” Bob said. “Actually I had a question about the maker’s mark here.” He
turned up the collar and showed the seamstress the logo. “What do you know
about House Talmost?”
“Ah yes, House Talmost,” the seamstress
said. “They are a famous noble house of Waterdeep, known as furriers and
weavers up and down the Sword Coast. Their garments sometimes make it into
shops in Neverwinter, but it’s rare to come across them in a place like
Phandalin. It actually was an honour to hem such a finely made garment.”
“Ah yes, and where is this Waterdeep?” Bob
asked. “I’m not from around here.”
“Well, Waterdeep’s not from around here,
either!” the seamstress said. “It’s a good 200 miles south of here.”
“I see,” Bob said. “Thank you for the
information!”
Theryn left the Townmaster’s Hall and
headed to the Stonehill Inn, looking to get a drink.
As he approached, he heard the sound of
breaking glass and saw Alec fly through the inn’s front window and land in the
street.
A mountain of a man stepped through the
empty windowframe, rolling up his sleeves over biceps as thick as Theryn’s
thighs.
“Whatcha gonna do when I run wild on you?”
the man-mountain was shouting at Alec, who looked amused, even while covered in
shards of glass. “I’ve been saying my prayers and eating my vitamins, and I
swear I am going to break you clean in half!”
Theryn sighed and quickened his step.
Alec propped himself up on his elbows and
laughed heartily. “That’s the spirit!” he shouted.
“Spirit this!” The man-mountain balled up
his fists.
Theryn’s quarterstaff arced through the air
and smashed the man’s nose, which burst like an overripe strawberry.
“Holy gods!” the man shouted, stumbling
sideways, beefy hands covering his shattered snout.
“Do you want more?” Theryn asked.
“No!” the man-mountain blubbered as he ran
away.
Alec looked up at the monk. “Say something
insightful.”
Theryn looked down at the fighter. “Never
send a rabbit to kill a fox.” Then he relaxed. “See that thing with the staff?
You don’t even know!”
The sound of breaking crockery inside the inn got the
monk’s attention. “Huh?”
“Guess everyone’s in a fighting mood
today,” Alec said.
Theryn stepped through the inn’s doors. The
barroom was in disarray as half a dozen miners and farmers traded blows while
other patrons backed away, trying to keep their drinks from spilling on one
another. At the bar, Xylon sat, still drinking.
Toblen frantically waved his arms. “Stop it
everyone, just stop it!”
Theryn jumped atop the nearest table and
swept his quarterstaff through the air, the sound of an eagle screaming
suddenly quieting the crowd.
“If you’ll stop fighting, the next round of
beer is on me!” Theryn said.
The crowd let out a hearty cheer.
Toblen mouthed “thank you” to Theryn from
across the room. Then he stared daggers at Alec.
Xylon reached into his pockets and
scattered some silver across the bar without looking up.
Bob and Radegast arrived at the inn
simultaneously.
Bob surveyed the damage. “Aww, we missed a
bar fight? Drat!”
Radegast shrugged and headed for the bar.
“Miss? Miss!” A voice called to her as she
walked through the mess.
She turned to see a pleasant-looking half
elf with silver hair sitting at a table, a bushel of apples at his side.
“A silver for a song, if you please!” the
half-elf said, ringing a coin off the tabletop.
“Throw in some apples for me and my friends
and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Radegast said.
The half-elf grinned and tossed half a
dozen apples into the air. “Do you take requests?”
“It’s your silver, sir!” Radegast said.
“You get to call the tune.”
“Excellent,” the half-elf said with a
twinkle in his eye. “I’m wondering if you would play ‘A Song of Other Times and
Places’ for me.”
Radegast felt her blood run cold. “A Song
of Other Times and Places” was Order of the Gauntlet code for “give me a report
of your recent dealings in song form.” Clearly this half-elf was a member of
the Order.
“Uh, certainly. Let me just…” Radegast
struggled to unsling her lute. “Let me just tune up here quickly.” She found a
chair that hadn’t been too badly smashed and sat upon it, tuning her instrument
while her mind raced. She cleared her throat and strummed an awkward chord.
All eyes were on her, and she felt
something she hadn’t felt in a long time – stage fright.
“So, I don’t remember the first couple of
lines,” Radegast said. “But then it goes secret
tunnel, secret tunnel, through the mountain, secret secret secret secret
tunnel! Yeah!”
There was the sound of a slow clap from the
stunned room.
“Wait,” Radegast said. “There’s another
rendition called Tunnel of Secrets ,
and there’s a wraith, and a battle. It’s pretty awesome.”
Her lute broke a string.
“Your song was bad and you should feel
bad!” someone murmured.
The half-elf smiled knowingly and kicked a
chair out from the table, gesturing for Radegast to join him.
“Sorry about that,” Radegast said. “It’s
just that usually it’s the other way around!”
“How so?” the half-elf asked.
“Well, normally I’m a librarian and I ask
questions about what information people are looking for, that sort of thing.”
“Okay,” the half-elf said. “Here’s some
information for you. My name is Daran Edermath, late of the Dragon Coast but
now enjoying a well-deserved retirement here at my orchard in Phandalin. By the
way, have yourself an apple.”
“A pleasure,” Radegast said, picking up an
apple.
“You sing an interesting song,” Edermath
said.
“Well, not much has happened to me lately,”
Radegast said. “But there was a delve, and a wraith.”
Edermath seemed to buy that. “Good to
know.”
“Perhaps I could ask you to sing ‘A Song of
New Places’?” Radegast said.
Edermath smiled. “Well, my singing voice is
rusty, because as you say, usually it’s the other way around.” He leaned forward.
“But if you’re looking for new material, might I suggest Old Owl Well to the
northeast?”
Radegast nodded.
“There, the ruins of an old watchtower,
raised during the time of Ancient Netheril, watches over the Triboar Trail,”
Edermath said. “I’ve heard that there are ill dealings afoot there –
prospectors being run off by undead, and rumours of someone digging around in
the depths of the tower. I worry that dangerous magic might lie dormant there,
waiting for the right person, or more importantly, the wrong person, to awaken
it.”
Radegast was grateful Varien wasn’t within
earshot.
“To modernize the old hymn, perhaps I could
add something about orcs?” Radegast asked.
Edermath nodded. “You might append a few
bars to the final stanza of that song.”
Radegast smiled. “Then perhaps I will
entertain you with another song when we return to Phandalin.”
Edermath nodded and bit into an apple. “I
look forward to it.”
The party, including Varien, gathered and Radegast shared what
she had learned from Daran Edermath about Old Owl Well.
“He told you about that?” Xylon asked.
“Guess it’s not much of a secret then.”
“We should prepare for a trip into the
mountains,” Radegast said. “I’ll pick up a mountaineering kit and a new cloak.”
“I’ll get some rations,” Bob said. “But we
should look in on Erwen and Who.”
The party traveled to the Alderleaf Farm and knocked on the barn door.
Erwen opened it. “Who’s sick,” he said
sadly. “He’s molting like anything." Erwen held up a fistful of feathers. "I’ve prepared a poultice but it’s going to
need time to take effect. I should probably stay behind until he’s better.”
“That’s fine,” Varien said. “We are heading
to check out Wyvern Tor in the mountains to the northeast."
Bob reached out to give Who a reassuring
pat.
Who reared up, snarling, and tried to bit
the sorcerer. Instead, his beak latched onto one of his forelimbs, which he
proceeded to gnaw upon stupidly.
“You should go,” Erwen said pointedly to
Bob.
“My bad,” mumbled Bob.
Theryn led the party into the rugged
foothills at the foot of the Sword Mountains while Radegast brushed up on her
Orc mythology.
They set up camp after a day’s journey over
the steep hills and through narrow valleys.
Midday on the second day, rainclouds moved
in and began to thoroughly drench each member of the party, save for Radegast,
who was sporting a new cloak.
“Should we take shelter or press on?”
Theryn asked.
“It’s time to kick ass,” Alec replied. The
rest of the party nodded assent.
“Fair enough,” Theryn said. They continued
into the downpour as the sky grew ever darker.
Many rain-soaked hours passed.
Then the party could make out the faint
smell of smoke hanging in the air.
Tying off their mounts, the adventurers
ascended a rugged ridge on the lower slopes of a hill. At the top of the ridge,
they peered over without revealing themselves.
The rocky peak of Wyvern Tor rose high into
the sky. Before them was a deep ravine, and fifty yards away they could see the
gaping maw of a cave mouth. A torch pounded into the ground at the cave
guttered in the rain and wind.
Hunkered down near a boulder was a single
orc keeping watch.
“Let’s see if we can get some intel from
this one,” Theryn whispered. He began creeping down the slopes of the ridge.
Radegast followed behind, an arrow ready in her bow to take the sentry out if
Theryn failed to subdue him.
The lone sentry grunted to himself as he
stood watch.
Theryn kept to the shadows, his progress
aided by the driving rain. The monk stepped behind the muscle-bound orc and he
let loose a stunning strike with his quarterstaff.
There was a solid cracking sound as his
staff made contact, and the sentry’s eyes rolled back into his head as he
slumped to the ground.
Theryn dragged the sentry out of sight of
the cave mouth. Radegast rushed up and used her rope to tie the stunned orc up
in a series of intricate knots.
Rain fell in sheets across the crags.
Radegast held out the hem of her cloak
until a puddle of rainwater had formed on it, and then dumped it onto the dazed
orc’s face.
The orc spluttered.
“Wake up, little piggy!” Radegast said in
Orcish.
Theryn leaned over the prostrate orc. “How
many of there are you?”
The orc’s eyes rolled as it shook its head,
trying to come to his senses. Then they narrowed at Theryn.
“Go flauk
yourself,” the orc muttered. “Gruumsh give me strength,” he said, testing his
bonds.
“Gruumsh? I’d be more worried about how
most displeased Lady Luthic is going to be given your failure to protect the
cave,” Radegast said sharply.
“Gruumsh will still welcome me with an open
fist,” the orc said.
“And as for Gruumsh, well, you’ve been
cheated out of a proud warrior’s death now,” Radegast said, indicating the
orc’s bonds. “I don’t think he’s going to be happy to see you in the
afterlife.”
The orc struggled against the ropes. “I
will show you how an orc dies!”
“There there,” Radegast patted the orc’s
shoulder. “You will have a chance to go out on your own two feet if you give us
information about you and your friends.”
“Where did a whelp like you learn our
tongue?” The orc grunted.
“From stories about good little piggies,”
Radegast sneered.
“Lies…” the orc said. “Do your worst. The
Many-Arrows will avenge me!”
“Oh, Many-Arrows?” Radegast asked. “How
many?”
“More than you can count,” the orc smiled,
showing his sharp tusk-like teeth to Radegast and Theryn.
Radegast turned to Theryn and spoke in
Dwarvish. “Time to play some mind games with this orc. We can’t threaten this
one with death – he will welcome it as an honorable end. But if it’s one thing
that strikes fear into the heart of every orc it’s being weak, incapacitated,
or otherwise useless. Let’s threaten him with having to live the rest of his
life as a cripple and see what he gives us.”
Theryn nodded.
Radegast switched back to Orcish. “So, my
little piggy, what part of your body do you find the most useful?”
The orc squirmed against the ropes.
“Whatever you do to me, my brothers will do double to you.”
Radegast leaned in. “We’re going to send
you back to your brothers with a begging bowl, little pig. There will be no
honorable death for you, just a life of begging for scraps from your betters.
Maybe inside that cave we’ll find some braver orcs willing to trade information
for a worthy death, eh?”
“Go ahead,” the orc said, a little
uncertainly. “My brothers will welcome you with open arms.”
Theryn picked up the orc’s discarded axe.
“Maybe I should use this blade on you, carve you up like the bacon I had for
breakfast yesterday.” He dropped the axe near the orc’s head. The orc flinched.
“Actually I have a better idea,” Radegast
said. She drew back her bow and sent an arrow through the orc’s left kneecap.
The orc gritted his teeth, but a piggish
squeal still escaped.
“Scratch one kneecap,” Radegast said. “Now
you’re trussed up and crippled like a pig ready for the butcher’s blade. But it
gets better.” She turned to Theryn. “Now we’re going to tell his friends that
we caught him with his pants down with Xylon’s elven sister.”
“No, don’t tell them that!” the orc cried.
“Then how many of you are there?” Radegast
said.
“S-six…” the orc hissed through clenched
teeth.
“Six?” Radegast was taken aback. “How bad did you think my math skills were, earlier?”
“Even with six, if you go in there you go
to your doom,” the orc said, regaining some of his courage.
“And why’s that?”
“Because Brughor Axe-Biter is hungry.”
Radegast laughed. “What kind of a name is
‘Axe-Biter’? Does he like, chew on axes to keep them sharp, or what?”
The orc looked away, embarrassed. “I
follow…I follow Brughor. Just Brughor.”
“Are we going to get anything else useful
out of this one?” Theryn asked in Dwarvish.
“I think he’s told us all he’s going to,”
Radegast replied. She turned to the orc.
“Well, good little piggy, are you going to
beg for a clean death now?” Radegast asked.
“A warrior does not beg,” the orc spat.
“Tell you what, you can follow in your
leader Brughor’s footsteps.” Radegast picked up the axe and wedged it in the orc’s mouth.
“Bite down on that and you can tell Gruumsh you died holding your axe.”
“Urgh,” the orc said, his mouth around the
axe blade.
"You look ridiculous." Radegast said as she fired an arrow into the orc’s
head. The sentry slumped back, dead.
Radegast smiled at Theryn and indicated the cave. “Now,
let’s do this thing, shall we?”