"I think we gave far worse than we got." Road follows Cormac, trying to ignore the aches from all the blows his armor stopped, but did not completely absorb. "And thank you, by the way, for helping Reese. I feared the worst when I saw him fall."
Cormac shrugs. "Hopefully someone'll still be alive to do the same fer me when the time comes."
He drops to the back of the group, doing what he can to disguise their trail in the snow.
"Of course," Benn mutters, "It would be a damned shame if we ever knew what the hell was actually going on."
As the party the cave mouth in the rocks, hunting horns blare and shouts ring out. Looking back, Roald and his friends see two elves on their track, less than a bow shot distant.
But more elves search the pass and the mountainsides round about. And now those other bands respond to the hunter's cries and horn signals.
Roald and his human comrades count over thirty coming from several directions at once. The elves carry no torches.
But the Bard can see better than the others. She loses count after sixty. They have the party almost totally encircled, or will in a few more minutes. True elves move much faster in these conditions than humans without snowshoes or skis.
The party may have enough time to rush into the cave mouth.
Or...
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
"An outlaw that gets paid to cover, he should be a high rank officer I presume so he can have access to many documents, locations etc. I bet he is a wealthy man by now if any gang pays him. Anyway, any idea when Terem will be back? Otherwise I can return later."
''He's off to see his doxy. She's too expensive for him, really. Doesn't like to slum it here with us."
Milo jerks his thumb towards the sleeping man.
"We could leave Ossel here to finish his nap, and take a walk around the neighborhood. There's lot to see."
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
The dwarf leaves and Domenica and Gimp head for the Gorgon's Crown.
Later, at The sign of The Gorgon's Crown
Domenica finds the public house without much trouble.
As she enters, she notices signs of recent construction in the common room; unpainted timbers, fresh-looking plaster, and sawdust. It’s half-deserted and poorly lit. The boy waiting tables seems chipper enough, though. Domenica smells a musty animal odor.
The young server approaches, dusts his hands on his apron, and says, "How can I help you, lady?"
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
At first, Roald is eager at the chance to kill more elves, but as the number of elves in his sight grow, his survival instinct begins to quench his bloodthirst.
"So, about that cave," he says, drawing his bow to shoot at the elf trackers.
"Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it."
Once it becomes clear that they are surrounded, Renn begins eyeing the cave mouth. "I don't mind killing, but I've got a thing or two against getting stabbed myself. Let's make for the cave--and quick!"
"You said I killed you--haunt me, then!...Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!” -Wuthering Heights
tarlyn wrote:"Ah, yes," a few silver coins find their way into his hands, "I am looking for Torthur. Do tell, lad, he is here, no?"
She peers around the establishment, looking for a dwarf and of all things, a bear.
THE GORGON'S CROWN
The lad's eyes grow wide at the sight of the coins. He takes the money and leads Domenica out of the common area and down a kitchen staircase, into a darkened cellar chamber.
The musty smell thickens as she descends into the murky cellar. Something or someone snores. A metallic rasp sounds from deeper in the underground room. Sparks fly in the gloom. Snores give way to growls.Footsteps accompanied by a tapping sound echoes in the room, and a reddish light appears before Domenica.
The light increases, showing a squat, shaggy dwarf coming towards her with a brazier of glowing coals held in one hand. A closer look shows that he wears a peg-leg prosthetic, wood tipped with a bronze cap.The dwarf’s clothing looks moth-eaten and soiled. He stinks like sour beer, rotten cheese, and something like wet dog.
The dwarf says, “What do you want?”
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Milo leads Filbert out of the Three Penny and for a walk down a shady lane where the roofs of houses on either side of the street almost touch. The gaunt man fills the Halfling in on various details of the buildings, the goods and services available, where noisy dogs live, and so on. Most people listening in would only hear a friendly local showing a stranger around and giving mundane, perhaps boring, information.
But Milo slips in phrases with double meanings, and makes certain subtle gestures, the secret code of professional thieves.
The cant varies from region to region, but Filbert has spent long enough in this country to pick up what the man insinuates. Opportunities await them both, over the river. Steal there, fence here. The Watch in both cities will be too busy dealing with security for the ducal wedding and all the things leading up to it.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Temerlan easily outperforms all the amateurs. But one of the participants, a handsome young man who has obviously had some theatrical training and experience, gives him a bigger challenge.
In this scene, Dalton confronts his half-brother Berric, the younger and trueborn son of the Duke of Alamie. Both men are in love the same woman, Lanelle Flaertes.
Now Dalton tries to convince Lanelle to remain in Haes with him, and sever ties with the Duke's heir.
Temerlan competitor, Joram, delivers a technically skillful performance.
Temerlan has nothing to go on but the lines on the paper the writer thrust into his hands moments before. Without experience of local acting techniques and styles, beyond what he's seen today, he delivers a rougher performance. Rougher, but also empathic and unconventional. The crowd claps louder for him.
The playwright gives them both more lines to read.
Soon Wyllem Reed makes the call.
"Temerlan, you have Dalton's part."
He turns to the other actor. "You're quite good Joram. I hope that you will consider playing Berric."
Joram remains silent a moment.
He looks at Temerlan and says, "Alright, I'll do it."
THE PORT OF LOFTON
MIDDAY
Temerlan and Safana sit in the prow of the big rowboat as the oarsmen roll it over the frigid, swift current and towards the waterfront opposite Haes.
They see the famous bluffs rising high above the narrow docks and weirs that run along the eastern bank. And atop the heights appear the outer walls and tower-tops of Lofton proper. Wooden stairways built against the river-cliff and twisting roads that incline upwards connect the lower port area with the elevated and walled town.
The pilot of the boat calls out to workers on the walkways as the boat gets closer.
Men throw out mooring lines.
The oarsmen lean back when the boat rests alongside the pier, puffing frosty fog out as they catch their breaths.
The boat pilot tells Safana and Temerlan.
"Enjoy your day. You can catch a ride back with us before dark. We won't be going up into the walls. Just trade down here. There's a safe grogshop for us foreigners, hard by the foot of the bluffs."
The man points up the heights to the city walls.
"Mind you don't get shut in at night, and if you do, don't go strolling after dark. Lofton alleymen will take more than your coin purse."
On the docks behind the pilot, the boatmen have gathered round and are retelling the story of Temerlan out-performing Joram, one of the better actors at the auditions yesterday.
Some of them call out lines from memory, getting the words mostly right.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
tarlyn wrote:"Ah, yes," a few silver coins find their way into his hands, "I am looking for Torthur. Do tell, lad, he is here, no?"
She peers around the establishment, looking for a dwarf and of all things, a bear.
THE GORGON'S CROWN
The lad's eyes grow wide at the sight of the coins. He takes the money and leads Domenica out of the common area and down a kitchen staircase, into a darkened cellar chamber.
The musty smell thickens as she descends into the murky cellar. Something or someone snores. A metallic rasp sounds from deeper in the underground room. Sparks fly in the gloom. Snores give way to growls.Footsteps accompanied by a tapping sound echoes in the room, and a reddish light appears before Domenica.
The light increases, showing a squat, shaggy dwarf coming towards her with a brazier of glowing coals held in one hand. A closer look shows that he wears a peg-leg prosthetic, wood tipped with a bronze cap.The dwarf’s clothing looks moth-eaten and soiled. He stinks like sour beer, rotten cheese, and something like wet dog.
The dwarf says, “What do you want?”
Any conversation between Atli and Domenica is in the dwarf tongue
Domenica crinkles her nose at the stench. She's smelt worst, for sure.
Speaking to Torthur "I am Domenica and this is my associate, Gimp. Atli has referred me to you, so here I am. I seek information or anything else you may be able to provide me."
She goes on to explain everything she remembers about her encounter at the Inn.
"This is for you" , she says as she shows him a pouch, shaking it so coins can be heard shaking. She hands it over in a non-threatening manner, smiling the whole time.
"I am looking for any information about a plot to ruin the Ducal wedding or even assassinate the Duke, if you may."
The whole time she is looking him in the eye, with respect.
tarlyn wrote:"Ah, yes," a few silver coins find their way into his hands, "I am looking for Torthur. Do tell, lad, he is here, no?"
She peers around the establishment, looking for a dwarf and of all things, a bear.
THE GORGON'S CROWN
The lad's eyes grow wide at the sight of the coins. He takes the money and leads Domenica out of the common area and down a kitchen staircase, into a darkened cellar chamber.
The musty smell thickens as she descends into the murky cellar. Something or someone snores. A metallic rasp sounds from deeper in the underground room. Sparks fly in the gloom. Snores give way to growls.Footsteps accompanied by a tapping sound echoes in the room, and a reddish light appears before Domenica.
The light increases, showing a squat, shaggy dwarf coming towards her with a brazier of glowing coals held in one hand. A closer look shows that he wears a peg-leg prosthetic, wood tipped with a bronze cap.The dwarf’s clothing looks moth-eaten and soiled. He stinks like sour beer, rotten cheese, and something like wet dog.
The dwarf says, “What do you want?”
Any conversation between Atli and Domenica is in the dwarf tongue
Domenica crinkles her nose at the stench. She's smelt worst, for sure.
Speaking to Torthur "I am Domenica and this is my associate, Gimp. Atli has referred me to you, so here I am. I seek information or anything else you may be able to provide me."
She goes on to explain everything she remembers about her encounter at the Inn.
"This is for you" , she says as she shows him a pouch, shaking it so coins can be heard shaking. She hands it over in a non-threatening manner, smiling the whole time.
"I am looking for any information about a plot to ruin the Ducal wedding or even assassinate the Duke, if you may."
The whole time she is looking him in the eye, with respect.
''Assawahtus? Devlin, what ye call your dook? Oh, you mean kill him?"
Torthur belches and then shakes his head.
"No! I never said I wanted to kill him. I just wanted a fair fight, till one of us got knocked down and out. People say I got a grudge against him, yeah? They say it's because he tossed me out of that meetin'?" He laughs. "He wasn't brave enough to do the tossin' himself. He had to call all his soldiers."
Torthur spits on the floor.
''His brother's the better of the pair.''
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
