Café de Nuit

ewancummins wrote:

Varrus the Ethical wrote:House of Atli

Roald leans forward, listening as closely as a pupil studying from master.

He smiles. "So if I take away enough of Carlion's assets, his ability to rule is weakened. As is his ability to wage war. It's just a matter of finding those assets, and I think I know who to ask. Much appreciated Atli. Carlion made a fierce mistake crossing you. I'm glad to be on your good side."

"No problem. Glad to help."

The dwarf leans back, his chair creaking.

"Now, about the barge..."

Roald leans back. "Of course. As we agreed, you get half the loot off the barge, plus a third of any ransom I'm able to extract out of Carlion for it. Have you had a chance to tour the vessel?"

Varrus the Ethical wrote:

ewancummins wrote:

Varrus the Ethical wrote:House of Atli

Roald leans forward, listening as closely as a pupil studying from master.

He smiles. "So if I take away enough of Carlion's assets, his ability to rule is weakened. As is his ability to wage war. It's just a matter of finding those assets, and I think I know who to ask. Much appreciated Atli. Carlion made a fierce mistake crossing you. I'm glad to be on your good side."

"No problem. Glad to help."

The dwarf leans back, his chair creaking.

"Now, about the barge..."

Roald leans back. "Of course. As we agreed, you get half the loot off the barge, plus a third of any ransom I'm able to extract out of Carlion for it. Have you had a chance to tour the vessel?"

''No, not yet. Why don't we do that now? I want a look at the moveable items, the stuff that will bring the gold at auction."

House of Atli

ewancummins wrote:


''No, not yet. Why don't we do that now? I want a look at the moveable items, the stuff that will bring the gold at auction."

Roald stands and smiles. "A find idea, then. I just hope you don't mind crowds. Carlion's pleasure barge has become quite the attraction for the people of Haes."

Varrus the Ethical wrote:House of Atli

ewancummins wrote:


''No, not yet. Why don't we do that now? I want a look at the moveable items, the stuff that will bring the gold at auction."

Roald stands and smiles. "A find idea, then. I just hope you don't mind crowds. Carlion's pleasure barge has become quite the attraction for the people of Haes."

"Not surprised.
I hear it has gilded railings."

The Dwarf calls in one of his human underlings, issues some simple directives about minding the shop, and gets up to leave with Roald...

RENN, COMMAND TENT



While Renn's father speaks with Cormac, Sir Ranald comes into the tent and seeks Renn out.

"Captain Renn, I'd like to volunteer as one of the scouts, unless you have other duties in mind for me. I can bring Gunnar and our picked band of hunters.''

ON THE ROAD, LORD FILBERT

ewancummins wrote: The villagers ask about the war in Tuornen, if the cross-mountain trade will be much affected by goblin raids, and if 'those damned elves' have become involved in the fighting.
Several of the local people seem to be a bit confused as to who rules Tuornen. Some of them had thought that Duke Gilgaed was still alive, until they heard from Filbert's lips that this was not so.
A scarred, rough looking man with a long black beard raises a cup of ale and says, “I told you fellows it was true. Duke Gilaged killed by treachery! Though he did not pledge fealty to our great lord, still he was a goodly neighbor. My son, home from border duty, speaks well of the Tuors and their courage against the Manslayer’s elves.”
Talk turns to elf troubles in the eastern border provinces, in the shadow of the Seamists that separate Tuornen from Boeruine.


…after leaving Alfcrost


After taking a fork onto the main road that leads from the forest verge to the seacoast, Filbert meets a waggoner and three riders, all headed the same way: west.

Black puffs of coal dust fly from the seams of heavy burlap sacks in the back of the wagon whenever the wheels roll through a pothole or over a bump in the rough stone road.

After a big bump sends a coal-sack tumbling out the back, the stout , thick armed graybeard who drives the wagon halts his horses with a command, gets out, goes round the back, and tosses the sack into its place with a grunt.

The riders tarry a bit, watching but not helping.

“Time was the roads were better kept”, the old gray wagon driver remarks to no-one in particular. “Time was everything was better. When we had an Emperor.”

One of the three riders, a young and pretty maid dressed in a blue cloak and green kirtle, laughs lightly.
“What’s that you say, Goodman Henryk? You can’t recall such a time; ‘twas nearly as long before your birth as before mine.”

The two swordsmen in leather jacks who ride behind the woman chuckle.

The old driver looks sideways at the damosel and makes reply,
“Aye, true, my lady. Beg your pardon if my grumbling gives you trouble. I’m just an old man.”

The old driver turns his attention to Filbert. He squints at the Halfling.
“You, there, boy, you want to ride up on the buckboard with me, give your pony a rest? My horses are strong, and you probably weigh less than one of these coal-sacks.”

Filbert listens the old man talking, his words have intrigued him.

"Yes of course good idea."

With the man's help Filbert gets to the buck board and studies the man, he seems fairly old but still capable of reasoning. After a brief moment of silence Filbert asks:

"Mr Henryk, if I may ask, how do you know how was the situation at the Emperor's time and what do you think has changed when the Duke got this area? In few words how can things get better for you here? "

LORD FILBERT


"Eh?"

Henryk takes a closer look at his passenger.

"Oh! You're one of those Halflings."

The old man urges his horses on and the wagon starts to roll forward.

"Now, you were asking about Emperors and Dukes and such. Well, we haven't had an Emperor in a long time. Must have been...ahhh...."


The pretty golden-haired maiden, riding alongside the wagon, interjects-
"About five hundred years, Goodman Henryk."

The driver nods.
"Right she is, five hundred years. But we have had an Archduke, well, always. And we always will. Gods be good, our lord will make himself the new Emperor and end all this tangle of lords fighting each other."

Gorgon's Crown

Torthur nods at his first opponent of the evening. "Bring it all, cuz I thinks I's gonna make but a meal outta ya."

The man, partially drunk, rushes the dwarf arms flailing. Torthur steps aside and boots him in the seat of his pants, making the man fall to the floor. "That all ye've got? Pity, I were lookin forward ter a little exercise." He stands back from the man, giving hi a chance to stand up. The man is red faced and angry by the looks of it. He moves closer to Torthur this time, cautious. He now holds his hands out fingers open, nodding at the dwarf. Torthur grins and does the same. Soon, both have hands entwined. The dwarf admired the man's courage but after the first few seconds, realizes this foe won't last all too long.

He grunts for added effect, making the m an bend at the power of his knuckles bending the mans hands backwards painfully. He moves back a little, pulling the man with him and down. His foot flies up, and connects with the man's forehead, knocking him out. Torthur holds on to the man so he doesn't fall and break his neck. He looks at the crowd. "Awright, give im a seat an make sure e's awright. Lora, get im an ale on me."

He looks around, grinning. "Who be next?"

FOERDE

LATER IN THE MORNING

Riding with the Grandmaster, Foerde spots a man (or maybe a big goblin...) crouched under a bent tree on a windy hilltop about a bowshot to the south.
The figure might be watching Foerde's people. Whoever the stranger is, he vanishes down the back of the hill a moment after Foerde spots him.

ewancummins wrote:FOERDE

LATER IN THE MORNING

Riding with the Grandmaster, Foerde spots a man (or maybe a big goblin...) crouched under a bent tree on a windy hilltop about a bowshot to the south.
The figure might be watching Foerde's people. Whoever the stranger is, he vanishes down the back of the hill a moment after Foerde spots him.

Foerde raises a closed fist signaling the spears and the rest of the party to halt. "We've been spotted, it could of been a man or big goblin." He says Fhylie while pointing out the hill where he saw the figure.

He scans the hilltops and surrounding area for other possible dangers as well as safer routes..

COMMAND TENT

"Aye," he nods, "Goblins are a blight to the land. Followers o' Aeric are trained to fight them wherever they are found. I'll pursue 'em till I see 'em all dead, an' their slaves freed."

ewancummins wrote:RENN, COMMAND TENT



While Renn's father speaks with Cormac, Sir Ranald comes into the tent and seeks Renn out.

"Captain Renn, I'd like to volunteer as one of the scouts, unless you have other duties in mind for me. I can bring Gunnar and our picked band of hunters.''

Renn nods. "It'll be good to have you and your men along. And you as well, Cormac."

"Now the question is, just how far ahead should we scout? I think that must depend on how many we're able to recruit for this mission. If there are but a few of us, we'd likely do well to stay nearer to the main force, so that we're not cut off in a mountain ambush. With a larger scouting force, we may be able to operate more independently."

Turning to the druid, he asks, "What can we expect when we reach the Abbey? You fought your battle near there, yes? It looks like they flee in that direction now."

THE SCOUTS







Cormac has the opportunity to repeat the tale of the Battle of the Broken Bell…

Not long afterward

The scouts ride out the crude palisade about the camp, going north over the green, sun dappled little hills dotted with tree stumps. An east wind sends wildflower petals spinning through the warm, perfumed air. Clouds of midge-flies lift and tumble away from the banks of little streams fed by the late rainfall. The riders’ horses shake their manes and whicker at the tiny insects. Now and again a thrush calls, but otherwise the countryside remains strangely silent apart from the scouts and their steeds and the rush of the wind.

…
Cormac spots the tracks in the meadow before the others notice them; wolf paws bigger than the prints of any ordinary beast, a few muddy hoof prints from big horses, and smudges of boot heels pressed in the trampled grass. These tracks converge with others to form a sort of muddy road headed north. Judging by the trail sign, the scouts have come across at least a considerable chunk of the retreating enemy forces; anything from two score to a couple of hundred wargs, goblins, and Alamiens.

…

Creeping up the steep, thinly wooded side of a hill, to investigate the noises that Safana heard on the breeze, Renn discovers a great motley camp covering much of a broad vale. A narrow, rushy stream flows more or less west to east between the base of the hill on which Renn lies watching and the outskirts of the campsite. He counts over two hundred enemies; Black Tower soldiers cleaning their gear or tending their horses, goblins of all sizes sleeping or squabbling, great black wolves sprawled the shade of small trees.

Foliage near Renn shakes and presently a gray-skinned little goblin walks right past the Count’s son, not seeming to notice him where he lies under a bush. The goblin starts towards the crest of the hill, where it might be able to see Renn’s companions on the far side, but pauses a moment to drink what smells like curdled milk from a leather sack.

Renn squirms out from under the shrub, sliding downhill like a snake in the damp grass. He makes very little noise, or at least the goblin sentry doesn’t seem to notice him.
…

Returned to the logging camp

Back in the logging camp, Renn and the other scouts deliver a report to Count Robin and Duke Devlin.

Based on what the scouts have found, the Tuor force could reach the enemy camp in less than three hours, using a shortcut through the hills known to Renn. Going any faster might flag or lame some or many of the horses, weakening the heavy cavalry’s power to move and strike.

tarlyn wrote:Gorgon's Crown

Torthur nods at his first opponent of the evening. "Bring it all, cuz I thinks I's gonna make but a meal outta ya."

The man, partially drunk, rushes the dwarf arms flailing. Torthur steps aside and boots him in the seat of his pants, making the man fall to the floor. "That all ye've got? Pity, I were lookin forward ter a little exercise." He stands back from the man, giving hi a chance to stand up. The man is red faced and angry by the looks of it. He moves closer to Torthur this time, cautious. He now holds his hands out fingers open, nodding at the dwarf. Torthur grins and does the same. Soon, both have hands entwined. The dwarf admired the man's courage but after the first few seconds, realizes this foe won't last all too long.

He grunts for added effect, making the m an bend at the power of his knuckles bending the mans hands backwards painfully. He moves back a little, pulling the man with him and down. His foot flies up, and connects with the man's forehead, knocking him out. Torthur holds on to the man so he doesn't fall and break his neck. He looks at the crowd. "Awright, give im a seat an make sure e's awright. Lora, get im an ale on me."

He looks around, grinning. "Who be next?"

A grossly fat man with a face that looks like the fairies beat him with a magic wand of ugliness gets up from his creaking stool.

He slurs a beer-soaked challenge, ''I be neshhht, Mishter Dorf.''

HAES, RIVERSIDE WHARF


...

Atli finishes his inspection of the pleasure barge.

The dwarf tells Roald,

''It looks like Duke Carilon's lackeys moved many of the smaller valuables off the boat, but those big painted panels, silk hangings, wine casks, and dry goods-- we could auction all that and raise a goodly sum of gold."