The Elmwood
Role Play Boards => Fantasy => Topic started by: Maxx on
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The Opium Wars had been over for fifteen years but the damage caused by twenty years of fighting was not easily erased. Equally, the victors had left changes on not just the population and the landscape but also on the society of the vanquished. Where once slaves were unheard of, now they were, if not exactly common then at least no longer noteworthy. What was noteworthy was the slave caravans, caged wagons or sometimes even just chain gangs, moving steadily northward, always northward.
There were stories, wild speculations as to what happened to the slaves when they reached the conquering north. They ranged from human sacrifice and cannibalism to death camps where the slaves died chained to their tools. No one knew for certain and, if they did, their mundane stories were quickly forgotten amidst the more gruesome tales which were far more interesting.
The war had also literally left its mark on the face of the southern population; where dark hair and dark eyes had once been universal, now fair hair and pale eyes were widespread. Such features could be either a blessing or a curse, depending on how much an area had suffered at the hands of the north.
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"Oy! Looky over der! Izzat an 'halfie?" The voice was deep but slurred and it held an accent that screamed 'Northern'. It also screamed 'I'm drunk and trying to whisper. Brandon ignored it. He'd gotten quite lucky with the trading he'd done and didn't want to ruin his high spirits by interacting with a bunch of drunken hooligans.
"Nah you daft bugger. That's a full on elf."
"She's pretty."
"I don' think it's a woman."
"He's pretty then. Hey, do think if we bobbed his ears, people would think he was a halfie? We're a little short this run." Brandon paused, a feeling a dread washing over him. It was late, the streets were mostly empty and two slavers were trying to decide if they could pass him of as a half-breed. In the south, half heritage wasn't an issue. In the north....
In the north half-breeds had no rights whatsoever and could be enslaved at a whim, by nearly anyone, unless they had documentation proving that they were already free. Of course that meant that they would have had to have been enslaved in the first place.
"Looks like he's got a bit of coin on him, from the way he dresses. Somebody might miss him."
"Nah. Not many elves around here. He's from out of town."
"You mean nobody would miss him."
"Even without bobbing his ears, we could probably make some money off him, even if it is just from going through his pockets."
Brandon turned to face them. He'd left his staff at the inn but that didn't mean he was defenseless. No one would have called him an archmage, except perhaps in mockery, but he was far from an unschooled apprentice.
"Gentlemen," he said, "if you intend to ambush an elf, you might want to consider that their hearing is superior to that of humans. I heard every word you said and I would advise against attempting anything foolish."
One of the slavers looked at the other. "Wha'd he say?"
Brandon sighed. "I said I heard what you were planning and I'm warning you not to try it."
The two slavers looked at each other for a moment. One of them grinned. The other nodded. "Sorry there, sir," the first one said. "No harm, no foul, eh?"
Brandon wasn't fooled. In addition to superior hearing, elves possessed superior night vision, and he could see that the speaker had pulled a blackjack from behind his back and his companion was freeing a length of rope that was, no doubt, a lasso.
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Ariana was out prowling the streets like she did most nights. Not looking for trouble or anything like that, just getting some fresh air and stretching her legs a bit. This night started like most any other, she left the house she shared with a Gnomish couple in the Gnomes enclave and slipped into the shadows. She made her way down towards the market square, hoping to catch one or two of the shops or stalls open even at the late hour, although it was doubtful anyone would be willing to still be around this far after the sun had set. Just as she stepped out of an alley but still well within the shadows provided by the buildings, Ariana heard voices off to her left.
Quietly but quickly she slipped through the shadows, heading toward where the voices were coming from. As she got closer she could see a rather comely Elf being accosted by two men, obviously slavers, and just as obviously drunk. They were definitely not going to just pass by after throwing a few racial slurs, not from what she had just heard them say. Oy! Looky over der! Izzat an 'halfie?...Nah you daft bugger. That's a full on elf... do think if we bobbed his ears, people would think he was a halfie? We're a little short this run.
Most people would have turned and gone the other way, or retreated back down the alley, but Ariana was not most people.
She stepped into a small pool of light, out of sight of the slavers but in full view of the Elf. "Why do idiots always drink to excess and then think it okay to accost innocent people on the street?" she said in Gnomish while tapping her quarterstaff on the ground.
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Brandon couldn't understand what the woman was saying, although he was fairly certain from the nasal tone of the language she was using that she was speaking in Gnomish. The slavers clearly didn't know who she was or what she was saying because they kept looking back and forth between her and him. He smiled and replied, speaking Elven but making his words more nasal, so that it would sound similar to the Gnomish the woman was using.
Hopefully she wouldn't take his tone as an attempt at mockery.
"Probably because they are drinking to excess and don't realize how dangerous what they are doing can be. With luck they can learn their lesson with little more than a swollen head and bruised pride." There was no guarantee that the woman spoke Elven but then he was hoping the slavers didn't understand either language so that they might think that he and the woman were communicating.
"Wha'd he say?"
"I dunno. Wha'd she say?"
"I dunno."
"She don't look like a halfie. You think we can make her ears more pointy? She don't speak a real language so she won't be able to tell anyone that she's free until it's too late."
"Nah. Somebody might miss her. Hey lady! This is a private matter. You go on out of here. Ain't any of your business."
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Ariana hung her head while sighing sadly and shaking it back and forth a couple of times. Not only was she shaking her head at the stupidity of the two men before her, but hopefully, to tell the Elf that she didn't understand what he had said. Looking back at the two slavers she took two steps forward and slipped into a fighting stance, all the while swearing up a black storm in Gnomish. When the men told her that what was happening was none of her business she spoke again.
"I am making it my business," she exclaimed in Common, not taking her eyes off the men. Ariana then continued to mutter Gnomish curses under her breath. She cursed the two idiots before her, the war that made all this possible, the city guard for not having the stones to interfere with the slavers, and just about everything else she could think of.
Knowing that she really would be better off just leaving things alone, she sighed again and waited to see what would happen next.
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"She's not leaving."
Brandon cleared his throat to get the slavers' attention. "Perhaps that is a sign that you should be the ones to leave. Drunk as you are, you still cannot miss that she is an Akilan staff master. Their dialect is quite unmistakable. I've had the pleasure seeing one fight only once in my life. He took on six men on horseback and when the dust settled all the men and two of the horses were dead. Do you really think you two stand a chance?"
He was throwing them a line of utter bullshit of course, hoping they were too drunk to realize it. There was no such thing as an Akilan staff master.
The two men looked back at Ariana.
"She looks like she wants to kick our asses."
"We don't have our horses."
"That's good! She can't kill them if they aren't here."
"Yeah but she can still kill us."
"Maybe we should run in opposite directions. That way she can only kill one of us." There was a silent nod between the two and suddenly they were sprinting in opposite directions.
Brandon let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, stranger. Your welcome interference has saved the tips of my ears from unwelcome attention. May I offer you a drink or a meal to reward you?"
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Ariana was doing her best not to laugh when the Elf described her as an 'Akilan Staff Master.' While she didn't relish the idea of getting into a fight with the two slavers she would, nonetheless, if it meant trying to keep another innocent from the Northern slave markets. When the two drunken fools split and started running in opposite directions she let out a soft sigh of relief.
She took a moment to get a better look at the Elf before her. He stood a few inches shorter than herself and looked to be a few pounds lighter as well, although it was difficult to truly tell with those of Elven heritage.
"I am glad that everything turned out as it did sir. I truly did not relish the idea of getting into a fight with those oafs." Slipping out of her fighting stance, Ariana gave the Elf a small smile. "There is no need of rewarding me sir. If the damned city guard would have the stones to do their jobs my interference would have been unnecessary." She let out another soft sigh and turned to head back the way she had come.
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"He probably could have handled that himself." The words were in Gnomish, the tone nasal enough that it could only be a Gnome speaking. "He's a mage. I've sen him at the guild. Likely didn't want to set fire to half the city to deal with two idiots."
He was a little short for a Gnome and he had a shock of hair so orange it almost looked like his head was on fire. Green eyes flashed in the night. "You speak a better Gnome than some Gnomes I know. You've spent time with my people. I was wondering, would you happen to know a fellow by the name of Pinkerton Stout? Goes by Pinky or maybe Wolf-Kin?"
There was more than casual curiosity in the question. Whoever Pinkerton Stout was, he was important to this redheaded Gnome in the night.
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Ariana was a little startled by the Gnome. She hadn't notice him when she approached the area, if he was already here, nor approaching if he wasn't. Part of that could probably be attributed to the fact that a lot of her attention was on the confrontation before her and not her surroundings and part could probably be attributed to the fact that a large number of Gnomes were naturally soft in there walks. Tilting her head slightly she gave the Gnome before her a brilliant smile.
"Well met sir Mage," at least she was pretty sure he was a mage from his mentioning the mages guild. "While I appreciate the compliment on my Gnomish I seriously doubt that I speak it all that well." She spoke in Gnomish though, as she almost always did when conversing with someone who was Gnome. "The name Pinkerton Stout is not familiar to my ears sir Mage but if you would like to accompany me back to the Gnomish enclave here in town someone there may know the name."
Ariana was fairly certain that the Gnome before her was not a local. He did not look familiar and she had met most if not all of the Gnomes in town at some point. That and the very slight difference in his tonal inflections marked him as an outsider to her eyes.
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The Gnome grinned. "An introduction to the locals would be indeed welcome," he said, extending a hand. "The name is Keystone Stout, although I usually go by Falstaff. Pinkerton is my younger brother. We had a falling out when I believed the words of another over my own kin. I've since learned the truth and I'm looking to apologize, if he doesn't spit in my face."
When he extended his hand, his cloak moved aside just a little, revealing an embroidered badge that showed they stylized head of a snarling wolf picked out in red thread against a black background.
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The emblem meant nothing to Ariana but it was clearly significant to Keystone. Perhaps it had some connection to one of the names he'd given for his brother; Wolf-Kin.
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Ariana grasped the proffered hand, "Ariana Ravenguard at your service sir." She held her hand out in a slight sweeping gesture indicating the alley she had been heading towards. "The fastest way back is down the back alleys of town. They will take us within spitting distance of the enclaves border and we are less likely to attract unwanted attention if we try to keep to the shadows." She wasn't worried about the cities usually denizens who skulked through the alleys or made their homes there. Those souls would be less likely to bother them than the watch or potentially, other slavers whom prowled the better lit areas of the city. Ariana had learned rather quickly that it was usually safer to use the alleys after sunset than the main streets, frequently they were even safer during daylight hours as well.
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If making his way to the gnome enclave through the back alleys of an unfamiliar town was something he considered dangerous, Keystone gave no sign. He nodded and allowed Ariana to lead. His feet made no sound as they traveled through the dim passages and he easily evaded any obstacles. His night vision, she knew, was far better than hers.
Soon, the low wall that marked the edge of the Gnome enclave loomed in the darkness ahead of them. Barely more than a fence, it wasn't a true barricade but rather a marker to indicate the extend of the Gnomish neighbourhood. Most of the races clustered together but only the Gnomes delineated their territory with such elaborate markers.
"Alloo the gate!" Keystone called out. "Rather than kin guiding a friend, it's a friend guiding kin. I'm new here. Home is the banks of the Oxbow River and I'd be happy with food and drink and a warm place by the fire." It was a variation on the standard custom of announcing yourself and any companions with you. There were almost as many different versions as there were Gnomes.
"Alloo the traveler!" came the reply. "We know that tall drink of water and claim her as our own. If she brings you, you'd be welcome even if you were an elf."
Keystone laughed. "I'm afraid you missed that one," he said. "Likely he realized he'd have been better off drinking with Dwarves."
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Ariana laughed at the exchange. She recognized the voice from the gate but couldn't put a name or face to it at the moment and that bothered her some. Shaking off the unwelcome feeling she led Keystone through the gate and into the Gnomes territory, heading for the small cottage she shared with her guardians.
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"So who's you're friend then?" asked one of Ariana's guardians. He'd happened upon them just inside the gate and had invited Keystone to join them for a meal. Hobbits were famous for their cooking but for hospitality, they couldn't hold a candle to a Gnome.
"Keystone Stout, from the Oxbow River. I'm looking for kin. His name is Pinkerton. Goes by Pinky for obvious reasons. He's my brother and we parted in anger. I'm looking to mend things."
Rufus Longstocking sucked air through his teeth. He was tall for a Gnome and thick enough around the middle to be mistaken for a Dwarf in bad light. "Bad blood between kin is a terrible thing," he said. "Seems the name rings a bell but stone me if I can't think of where or when I heard it. We'll talk over a meal and a pint or three and hopefully it will come to me."
"I'd appreciate it if you did," Keystone said. "I've been on his heels for three months and the trail went cold a fortnight ago. If I've missed a fork in the road, I'll need to backtrack and it's likely to be another season before I get close again."
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Ariana gave Rufus a quick hug upon their meeting, much to the chagrin of the Gnome. She let him lead them all home and kept quiet on the short walk there. Once inside and after shucking off her cloak and boots and leaning her staff against the wall next to where she had hung her cloak on a hook embedded in the wall. Waiting for a lull in the conversation she turned to address Keystone.
"Pardon me for asking sir Mage but have you asked about your brother at the Mages Guild? Or any of the other guilds here in town? I thought that if he were affiliated with a guild than some word may be found there even if they have no direct knowledge of him themselves."
She took a sip of her tea and leaned back against the wall she was sitting against.
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"You'll find Pinky a far more solitary sort than most," Keystone said. "He's not the type to frequent guilds, although he might have spent some time with the brewers. A dab hand at making ale, my brother is. Always looking for a better brew or for ways to improve his own."
"There's a few brewers in the enclave," Rufus volunteered. "I dare say they'll have closed their doors by this hour but they'll be open in the morning, after first light. You might find answers there."
"I'd be of a mind to check with them in the morning then," Keystone said. "Care to act as a guide for me, Ariana? I could use the company and the introduction and Rufus looks like a busy man."
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"It would be my honor Sir Mage. The best time to meet with the Brewers would be an hour after first light. They will have opened their shops by then but won't have gotten to busy to stop work and chat for a few minutes, all but one that is. There is one that is down right the surliest Gnome I have ever met but more than likely he will be the one to have word of your brother if any of them do. I would suggest visiting him last as more than likely he will try to send us to the others rather than talk with us. If we have already talked with the rest he will have no excuse not to engage us, especially if I order a barrel or two of his best ale for Master Rufus."
She gave Rufus a bright smile and her eyes brimmed with love as she looked at him.
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"So it's decided," Rufus said. "You'll go to the brewers tomorrow morning, after a hearty breakfast. You'll stay the night, of course. I've been looking for an excuse to bring out a bottle of the good stuff...."
Keystone smiled. He knew that they would talk no further of his problems. The rest of the night would be filled with tales and jokes and riddles and a great deal of drinking. Likely he'd be hung over in the morning but a slender chance to find his brother was better than no chance.
At least I won't need to find an inn.
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--Elsewhere--
"You'll need a bedroll. And a tent to keep you dry from the rain. And an extra blanket, in case the rain gets through the tent and your bedroll gets wet. Remember only to fill your waterskin from running water. Fill your belt pouch with rocks and keep your money rolled up in your bedroll. And you'll need a good cooking pot-"
"That will be quite enough, Philippa."
The young woman flushed a deep crimson. "Your eminence-"
The temple's high priestess raised a hand. "Peace, Philippa. There is no need for fancy titles here. No need for all the added provisions or last minute lessons either. You'll burden her with more than a mule could carry. Now say your goodbyes and run along. I'm sure you can find other duties that need your attention."
Philippa departed but not until after three tearful hugs. The high priestess smiled.
"She is such an emotional soul," she said. "So much love to give those in need." She gave Wymsin a warm and benevolent smile, full of love and understanding. "Do forgive her for all the weight she added to your shoulders, both physical and emotional. She means well. She is just young and does not understand that sometimes when we try to help, we can actually hinder."
The high priestess motioned for Wymsin to follow her as she walked through the temple, towards the exit. "You know you are always welcome to return. We just want you to experience what the world has to offer. You may find a place you feel that you belong, even more than here. Only time will tell. Let Selene guide your heart. You will know your place when you find it."
She stopped and placed a hand on either of Wymsin's shoulder. "Are you ready to begin the greatest adventure of all?" she asked. She knew the answer but still wanted to hear the young acolyte say it. This was a moment for both fear and excitement in equal measure, especially for one who had spent so much of her life inside the temple walls.
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Wymsin nodded as she brushed a long strand of her chestnut colored hair off her brow and pressed her lips together as she thought about her answer. "Like the moon and its changing states, I see this more as a passing phase and less of an adventure. "
She really didn't want to leave the safety of the church and her bretherin, but the time to do so was more than over due. Living in the church offered certain protections against the people who found half elves to be less than desirable. Out on her own what would come of her? She was small and dainty, but clever and never quit. Being a member of the Clergy would likely protect her from most things as she was a servant of the divine, and not a mundane half elf. She looked to her high priestess and added "It is selfish to want to stay. I am sure along my journey there will be many people that could use aid or guidance. I will do my best to share Selene's grace and goodness. And when I can I will write to let you know how things are progressing."
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"A passing phase?" The high priestess chuckled. "A poetic turn of phrase, I must admit. You must learn, Wymsin or you will never grow. You must experience before you can learn. Do you want to be a low functionary of the temple or do you want to be all that Selene's favour will allow you to be?"
It was, of course a rhetorical question.
"You will always find Selene's temples to be a place of refuge for you. As you know, we do not refuse our own and few others for that matter. Whether it is shelter from a storm or for advice or counsel, you will not be turned away from Selene's door. Who knows? You may find a place sorely in need of your wisdom and find a home there as well. Now, before you go, I have a gift for you. Petro made it for you."
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Petro had been dropped off on the temple's doorstep just as Wymsin had but where she had been hale, he had been barely clinging to life. Ugly, misshapen and blind, the temple had despaired of his survival. Survive he had, however and inside that twisted form had thrived a soul that shone with Selene's grace. His voice practically vibrated with her power and even as an acolyte he gained renown for his metalwork. Selene, he said, was his eyes when he was crafting. To be given a holy symbol crafted by him was considered an honour.
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Wymsin's face lit up as she accepted the holy symbol. She looked down at it in her hands feeling the coolness of the silver and gold. "It is beautiful. Please let Petro know how thankful I am for crafting this for me. Thank you as well HighPriestess for bestowing such a gift." She slipped the holy symbol over her head and tucked the wooden holy symbol underneath her robe. She fingered the symbol again feeling a cool tingle over her fingers as she smiled. SHe could feel the divine blessing it carried as well as the love and care that went into making it.
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Ariana enjoyed the company of both Rufus and Keystone for a couple of more hours before excusing herself. She would have usually stayed and enjoyed the talk and ale but if she was going to be acting as a guide for Keystone and making introductions on Rufus' behalf she would need all of her wits about her in the morning. She said her goodnights and headed to her bed.
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It was as Ariana had predicted; the brewers proved evasive in their answers until Keystone was made to sample their wares. He was still feeling the effects of the night before, so it fell to her to be the sober one, literally. In the end, she was proven right in her assessment of who would provide the most useful information.
Tannen Faster was tall for a gnome and stout as well. Equally unlike typical gnomes, he was gruff and bordered on rude. Ariana had been forced to intervene when Tannen called Keystone a 'pansy-ass mage' and Keystone responded by calling the brewer 'Tannen Dwarfson'. It had almost come to blows.
In the end, Keystone had invoked the power of family to get the surly gnome to admit that he remembered Pinkerton and had an idea as to the direction he had taken when he'd departed. It had taken the power of money (furthering Keystone's opinion that the gnome was a dwarf in disguise) to get the information out of him. Keystone had been forced to buy several kegs of Tannen's best ale, as well as agree to help escort a shipment heading north. That was in addition to the two kegs Ariana had purchased for Rufus.
Many of the temple residents had turned out to wish Wymsin well, some giving her small trinkets as remembrances and others to provide her with messages to be delivered to towns that would be along the route of the caravan she'd been assigned to as a healer and advisor. The high priestess, the last to wish her well, gave Wymsin a small pouch.
"Money is needed to live in the world," she said. "Do not demand payment for the gifts that come from Selene but do not refuse payment if it is offered. Do not be afraid to demand payment for those skills you possess, even if it is only to pay for the materials you use. You will learn how to strike a balance between thrift and generosity. No go, my child and know Selene's blessing goes with you."
"Alright, who's walking, who's riding and who doesn't have a clue? You! With the cart full of ale barrels! Yes, you. Who did you think I was talking to? Do you have someone riding beside you? No? Well you do now! There you go, healer. No need to worry about curing your own blistered feet. Just because we have short legs doesn't mean we can't out walk you. Who's next? Anybody else need to ride? Come on people, we were supposed to be rolling before the roads got clogged and I'm seeing wagons already!"
The gnomish teamster was in full cry and, despite his insistence that they were doomed by the slow start, the wagons were all rolling long before most were on the road. Wymsin had been assigned a seat beside a gnome who looked vaguely hung over. Ariana had been given a position as a roving guard and occasional scout. During one of her patrols along the length of the wagon train, she heard a chuckle.
"I thought you looked familiar. Thank you again for you help the other night." Ariana turned to see a familiar elf waving in greeting. "A paid guard? That explains so much. I never did get to reward you for your help. Perhaps I can think of something along the way."
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Wymsin was thankful for the gifts and the farewells. Her heart ached with joy and sadness over the fact that she would not be seeing her fellow clergy members for some time.
It was already dawn the sky was full of vibrant pinks and oranges. The sun had broken over the horizon of the seaside capital. The streets we starting to fill with early risers and the sight of merchants setting up stalls and stands for the day were well underway.
With a back back on her back and a bedroll and one man tent tethered just underneath it the young priestess made her way through the streets suppressing a yawn. The clergy of Selene were night owls and this was the part of the day where they wound down and got ready to retire for the day. In normal fashion she would normally be seeing bed well before the sun was high in the sky.
Traveling through the day would prove to be challenging but with the fact that there was a wagon train going with her, there would be an opportunity to potentially grab a nap on one of the wagons.
Lost somewhat in her thoughts she ruminated about the adventures and how the road trip would be uneventful.
'Come on people, we were supposed to be rolling before the roads got clogged and I'm seeing wagons already!"
Wymsin heard the shouts and the organized chaos as people were trying to get ready. She made her way over to the gnomish man on the cart who looked hungover and smoothed out her dark blue clerical robes before she Greeted him. "Blessing and Greetings to you good sir. I am Reverend Wymsin from the Temple of Selene and was told by our High Priestess that your group of Merchants were kind enough to let me come along. " She offered him a warm smile and a hand to shake.
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Ariana was not at all surprised with how the morning went. She was familiar enough with how Gnomes operated in general but the brewers always seemed to be in a class by themselves even amongst their own kind. The fact that Tanner Faster and Keystone almost came to blows did surprise her some however. She had known the master brewer would be difficult to deal with, he always was after all, but she had not known him to be so inhospitable before this. An agreement was finally reached, after she had to seperate the two to keep fists and who knows what else from flying. Keystone agreed to act as a guard for one of Tanner's shipments going north and Ariana volunteered to aid as well.
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Ariana made another pass along the caravan as it finished loading and everyone took their rightful places. She ran a practiced eye over the tack of each team and the loads in each wagon, an old habit from her days traveling with her father. Seeing nothing out of place and knowing that the head teamster had everything well in hand she turned her mount and headed back towards the head of the caravan. Hearing a chuckle off to her left and a somewhat familiar voice address her, Ariana turned to her left and saw the elf from the street sat upon another horse.
She gave him a faint smile and nod in greeting. "Well met again sir. There is truly no need of a reward sir. I was happy to aid a traveler in need, I just wish that there wasn't such a great need is all," she let out a soft sigh. "If you are truly set on repaying me than let us make sure that this shipment makes it to its destination with as little trouble as possible."
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The bleary eyed gnome squinted at Wymsin. "You're up early," he said. "Makes up for me being up late." He yawned. "I'm not really a merchant. I just got shafted into buying a bunch of ale kegs in order to get some information. I'm looking for my brother Pinkerton Stout. Name doesn't ring any bells, by any chance? Not sure what faith he followed but he might have stopped for a blessing or directions on his way north. Mad for the stars, my brother."
There was an odd level of concern in the seemingly casual question and the fact that he opened the with it indicated how important the search for his brother was to him. He eventually took her hand and shook it. "Keystone Stout, also known as Falstaff Wolf-kin, from the Oxbow River. Pinky sometimes calls himself Wolf-kin as well. He might have been wearing this symbol but likely not in red." He opened his cloak to reveal a carefully embroidered badge depicting a snarling wolf head.
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The elf patted the wagon he was riding. Under a protective tarp, a number of bolts of cloth were visible. "I have every reason to protect this caravan," he said. "It's protecting my investment. I bring glass to the capital and take cloth back with me."
He leaned closer. "I have a bolt of silk buried close to the bottom. If you're interested, I can make you something." He with a flourish he produced a sewing kit. "I'm nothing if not versatile and, if I do say so myself, I'm quite skilled."
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Wymsin listened intently to the Wagon Driver. She wracked her brain as hard as she could. There was a small portion of the ghetto in the city where most of the gnomes lived no larger than small city block. While people came and went to her temple for blessings rather frequently, she did not find the name to be familiar at all. "I haven't slept yet so its more a case of me being up late. Im sorry but I do not recall your brother passing by." She paused as she tried to empathize the situation. "it must be hard not knowing where he is currently. " She opened her back pack as she took a seat beside the teamster and pulled out lacquered wooden box as she slid the top off, inside it contained a lovingly packed meal for her to eat on the road. It consisted of cheese pickled vegetables rice and some smoked fish. She offered gnome a pickle. "Pickles are good for hangovers you should have one it will make you feel better. " she explained as she offered the brinned vegetable "Do you prefer Keystone or Falstaff when being addressed?"
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"Keystone will do," the gnome answered. "Gratitude for the pickle. Falstaff is more a professional conceit, a name I gave myself. It refers more to my ability as a sorcerer. I'm a wizard, you see. I've no skill at divination, mind you, so I have no idea whether I'm on a fool's quest or not."
The wagon train was making its way down the road at a steady pace. By Keystone's reckoning, it would take them several days to reach the next town. He would likely be stuck with his passenger until then. He hoped she wasn't going to be too much of a talker.
"If you're up late, feel free to have a nap," he said. "I think the animals should be able to follow the wagon ahead of us, so if we both grab a nap, I doubt we'll wander too far off the road."
-
Ariana gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. "If you wish to make me something I will not try to dissuade you good sir, but it truly is not necessary. Just be aware that I have no need for some fancy dress or ball gown. And anything made of silk would not last long on the road not to mention being a target for every rogue and bandit that laid eyes on it." The wind made a slight shift and she pulled her cloak a little tighter around herself. "If you will pardon me good sir, I need to make my way back to the front of the caravan." With that Ariana put heel to horse and rode towards the lead wagon at a slow trot.
-
The caravan made good time and the roads were mercifully free of much traffic. Travelers on foot were frequent but other carts were rare. Those that were on the road grudgingly gave way to the merchant's wares and most held their tongues. The caravan master was more than happy to trade bards with those ones that didn't.
He called a halt to their travels an hour before sunset, a place that was clearly a way station. There was a well and a fire pit but little else in the way of amenities. A few minutes of shouting had the wagons squared away and the beginnings of meal preparation underway.
The elf with the wagon full of cloth, who had finally given his name as Brandon, had offered to take over the cooking chores, in order to free teamsters and caravan guards for more important tasks. Everyone had chipped in something and shortly after sunset, a fine stew was bubbling away on the fire.
Somewhere along the line Brandon had discovered what Keystone already knew; there were two mages traveling with the caravan. Some of the others demanded a show but when the elf declines, the gnome was more than willing to show off his powers. After a quarter of an hour of oohs and ahs, he tapped one of his ale kegs and poured out a measure for any who wanted it.
"First one is free, everything else you pay for," he said, sipping his own ale. "And now that I've entertained all of you, all of you must now entertain me. It is stories I'm wanting, as payment for my display of prestidigitation and legerdemain."
-
Ariana made her rounds of the camp perimeter one last time before heading to the fire, a warm meal and a mug of tea. She would have taken Keystone up on his offer of a mug of ale but knew she needed to keep her wits about her while on the road even though most of the other guards availed themselves of his generosity. Not really knowing any stories other than the one of her father's death, she let out a deep sigh and looked at Keystone with a sad look in her eyes. "I truly know only one story Master Keystone. It is not a very pleasant one and I am hesitant to speak it." The sadness in her eyes was also plainly evident in her voice as she spoke.
-
"Then perhaps we should hear from another and you will learn a few new stories that are not so sad and hard to tell," the Gnome answered. "I would certainly not press you to speak when it clearly causes you pain."
"I think, then, that I can venture a tale," said the caravan master. Now that the wagons had been settled for the night, he had calmed considerably. "We were coming to a town in the north and, being new to town, asked a man walking into town if, in exchange for a ride, he would guide us to the market and point out some of the towns better features. He eagerly agreed and climbed aboard. 'See that bridge we're going to cross?' he says. 'I built that bridge with my own two hands, using wood I cut from my own property, otherwise we'd be using the ford ten miles west of here. But they don't call me Fergus the bridge builder.'. Half a mile further on, we see a temple. 'See that roof? I put that roof on after a fire destroyed the last one, using wood I cut from my own property. But they don't call me Fergus the roofer.'. By this time we're into the town and we're passing a well. 'I dowsed that water and dug that well, when we had a drought and the river as nothing but a trickle and the old well ran dry. But they don't call me Fergus the dowser.'. Finally my curiosity got the better of me and I had to ask, 'What is it they call you then?'. He looks me straight in the eye and says 'Michael'."
-
Ariana all but spit out her sip of tea with the end of the caravan masters tale. Her face was a little red from laughter and she coughed a bit with the small amount of tea that had made its way down the wrong way. She had always enjoyed the company on Gnomes and tonight was no exception. After a couple of more stories had been shared she excused herself and checked the perimeter, the horses and wagons one more time. She knew that most would just eat, drink and tumble into bed after putting up at what was most obviously a well used way point but her father had taught her not to trust even those spots that seemed safe. All was well and she returned to the fire and her companions.